I awoke this morning to several hours of jackhammers chiseling away at pavement up the street, I did not even look out of my window to see where or why. Because I am poor I have lived in high-traffic, intense human activity all of my adult life, over half a century, usually near a freeway and shopping center. With it has come the poisonous stench of vehicle gases, deafening traffic noise, visual distractions, and very little privacy. I have usually lived next to one continuously moving construction site or another, because I am too poor to live somewhere nicer, quieter, cleaner, healthier. There are billions like me on this Earth. Caption: Bricked Into A Lifelong Construction Site By Pov


During the time that Mother lived in my home with me, she had a habit of hiding her fingernails from me, but even glimpses showed me that they were dirty and ragged. So after she repeatedly refused to let me trim them for her, I made an appointment for her at a nail salon. We did not have extra money, and this was something I had never budgeted for myself, but I did not want her to be unkempt or to suffer an infected hangnail. Mother walked into the nail saloon docilely enough, and I told the staff to just give her a nice soak in the bubbles and trim the nails fairly short. I went to the other side of the room to get my first in life ever professional pedicure. I had barely sat down for

my app alerts for ISS Detector and Iridium 57

One of the sparkly bits of joy in my life is the app on my Kindle Fire HD8 that gives me a five-minute alert whenever either space vehicle (ISS or Iridium) is going to pass overhead, meaning literally to pass over the sky above me. This is an ever renewing thrill for me. Caption: my Kindle Fire HD8 App alerts for ISS Detector and Iridium 57 ISS = International Space Station Iridium 57 = “The Iridium satellite constellation provides L-band voice and data coverage to satellite phones, pagers and integrated transceivers over the entire Earth surface.” Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iridium_satellite_constellation


Working nonstop this past week on my late father’s horrific, nightmare nursing home neglect loss of leg lawsuit, I met a deadline last night and sought reward but had only the energy to bathe and put myself to bed. Then in hypnagogia, at the onset of sleep, in that half awake yet half dreaming state, my inner dreamcatcher caught a pleasant little dream for me. So I got up and went out alone to graze at a nice buffet, while I watched well-dressed, happy people for a few hours. I watched families with toddlers, children, teenagers in energetic, jostling groups, sweetheart couples dating, older couples pleased to be out and about at a pleasant feast. I too was pleased. This past decade my d

I made the effort to get there.

I cannot find the wind-blurred photographs that I took of the windmill farm at Ka Lae, Hawaii which is the southernmost point in the country of the United States of America; and I threw away the photographs that I took on an awful trip with a friend to Key West, Florida (he was drinking and horrible). Here is a free domain image and an attributed image that show those points of interest. It took me a lot of effort to get there to see them in person. Caption: The southernmost point in the continental USA is Key West, Florida-free domain photo. Caption: The southernmost point in the country of USA is Ka Lae , Hawaii. Source: https://quirkytravelguy.com/southernmost-point-united-states-haw

The Eternal Optimist

A Letter To My Inner Child Who Is The Eternal Optimist (I wrote this letter to myself, when I was well into my most difficult life task of caring for my parents in their last years.) Do not despair Precious Child, but take delight in creating your dreams, and Know that you can depend upon me to help you, always and unfailingly. I am your loving mind, a wise inner parent, a strong adult protector, and I am always here to protect, encourage and applaud you. You can always depend upon me. Written with love, Annmarie Throckmorton, M.A. Caption: A Letter To My Inner Child Who Is The Eternal Optimist by Annmarie Throckmorton 2012

Coming Unraveled

I remember white cotton twine, it came perfectly wound up into a ball. I used it for everything from hanging pictures, wrapping packages, playing with the cat, tying up a roast, to tying up homemade soaps, rugs, upholstery, and whatnot. We used to call it string. Once you got a knot in your string it was really, really difficult to untangle it. Under the burden of my late father’s loss of leg due to nursing home neglect lawsuit, I feel like a ball of string coming unraveled. No knots yet. Caption: Coming Unraveled by Annmarie Throckmorton 2018

A Smile Would Not Help

Once a week it is my habit to take a moment to scrutinize my physical self from head to toe, and in particular to look into a lighted, magnifying face mirror, to see what physical onslaughts of age might be dealt with, and which must simply be endured. I will be a septuagenarian in half a year. I never thought that I would be frightened of old age, but I am. Caption: Put On Any Smile You Like, Old Age Is Still Ugly self-portrait by Annmarie Throckmorton 2018

Picking Fruit

While I was waiting to be assigned to a country for my Peace Corps volunteer service, because the country of my initial assignment had undergone a frightful coup and they were taking volunteers out instead of in, I went to California to visit a girlfriend. To earn some money and to pass the time while she was working, I applied to the California state employment agency for a temporary job placement. On the wall I noticed a list of harvest jobs that was very interesting to me. I had read about European students* who worked seasonally in the fields to help bring in the harvest. It seemed like a wholesome thing to do, down-to-earth! I have always loved being outside in nature, and I though

It’s Instinct

A heavy male lion was sitting like a sphinx in the hot African desert sun. As I recall he was lounging along a river bank so it was probably pretty humid too. One of the lionesses in his pride sashayed by, wafting her scented tail at him. It was a casual, yet seductive walk, her hips and shoulders swaying sexually. Anyone could see what was on her feline mind. The male lion took no notice, he did not shake his thick, black, dusty mane, he did not lift a massive paw out of the sand. The aroused lioness sashayed by again, parading her sexy self before him. He seemed to take even less notice than before. The lioness turned abruptly, walked directly up to him, and smacked him in the face

Mock The Monarchy

Like most Americans, I am very much in opposition to constitutionally enshrined hereditary rulers, like Queen Elizabeth II. I am an ardent supporter of democratic democracy. My hope is that one day our American republic reaches that full potential. I did some irreverent tweeting this past week, as my avatar AdroitWaterBear, because I was shocked, insulted, and agitated by the diapered baby blimp of President Trump that was allowed to fly over London during our American President Trump’s meetings in England regarding Brexit, NATO, Soviet geopolitical developments, and more. The blimp was a silly but highly irritating distraction, the media went crazy for it. AdroitWaterBear Tweets The Quee

Triggered By Bicycles

Whenever I see a woman riding a bicycle, or even when I see a bicycle for that matter, I feel a spontaneous flush of horror remembering how some men in a truck drove alongside of me when I was a young woman riding a bicycle, and one of the men leaned out of the window, and he grabbed my ass with his fingers pushing in, and he pulled me along with the truck. The men were laughing hysterically, and they did not care if I fell at truck speed, which is too much for a young woman on a bicycle. I never rode a bicycle again. I told a girlfriend, a competent professional woman, what had happened to me. She said that after men in a car threw a cup of urine on her while she was riding a bicycle, sh

Emotional Juxtaposition

Metaphor for life on Earth: a flaming torch wall sconce juxtapositioned above a fuel tank. Caption: Emotional Juxtaposition Of Flame And Fuel Tank Placard: “ULTRA LOW SULFUR DIESEL FUEL ONLY” by Annmarie Throckmorton 2018

Straw Man Attack

The following are comments, between myself AdroitWaterBear and someone with an avatar named True Believer, on the interview that Margaret Sanger* gave to Mike Wallace in 1957, during which Mr. Wallace performs straw men attacks on the elderly Mrs. Sanger, instead of discussing her advocacy for birth control. During this interview Mr. Wallace pretended that Mrs. Sanger had espoused certain views on abortion, population control, the Catholic Church, and morality. After setting up these strawmen, he attacked them with derision and scorn for Mrs. Sanger, even though she repeatedly stated that she had no such views. (For a much lesser version of the straw man argument, see the comment exchange

Loading Up Or Down?

When I first went online in the early 1980’s, I was immediately thrilled and delighted with the internet. I would dial up via telephone for access, and I usually got through on the first couple of tries. The information on the amber screen of my first computer intrigued me. The code I entered to get my data was only modestly challenging, which was satisfying. The results were predictable, and I really like predictable. However, there was an oddness about the direction of the interaction that puzzled me. When I wanted data, it was “downloaded” to me. This is counter-intuitive. A human being is always superior to a database, if for no other reason than we create and control database, w

Coupon Compensation

On the one hand, it is very nice to received compensation coupons from a company when I report a defective product to them. On the other hand, I seem to be doing more and more complaining about defective products, way too much in fact. This is the 21st century. Factory systems were first developed at the beginning of the Industrial Revolution in the late 18th century, over two hundred years ago. There has been plenty of time for the food industry to debug the factories wherein they cook, bake, can, seal, sack, and box our food. Whatever happened to quality control* within the company? I do not work for these companies, and my time is worth more than a handful of coupons, no matter how

On Becoming A Woman

My advise is: If you want the very best, the finest life that a woman can live, when in doubt, live a little while longer before speaking that harsh word or committing that rash, unkind act. Restraint and forbearance, these are good qualities. One of the challenges of becoming a woman is learning to live life on your own terms, and to do that you must see life clearly, without wishful thinking, or anger, or group-think. Do not let yourself be shoved into something you do not want. Learn to hold back, to give yourself time to see for yourself, to judge for yourself. That is the guideline that I followed when challenged by the deepest waves of life. I held my head up, kicked off the sharks,

I Scaled The Peak

I have climbed a lot of low hills just walking along in life, I have even climbed some low mountains just for fun, but I am proudest of the mountain that I climbed last because it was a true mountain and I did it in my fifties, pushing through with a congenital cardiac defect, an arrhythmia that I have had all of my life, which causes palpitations, dizziness or feeling light-headed, shortness of breath, chest discomfort which is a euphemism for stabbing pains, weakness, fatigue, and feeling very tired. I am used to feeling very tired, I have always just ignored the feeling, and had fun anyway. And, having had these problems all of my life, I know a lot of other workarounds too, like stoppi

A Pussy, A Meteorite, And An Ivory Handled Knife

Around the time that I started elementary school, I was sitting in my front yard, which was on a corner of a quiet street somewhere in the Midwest. I was inspecting the grass, the differently shaped plants growing in amongst the blades of grass, the stones and dirt underneath it all, and the various bugs crawling about over it all. I was always enthralled by nature and intrigued in particular by the little bits of life that live so closely to people. Quietly, suddenly a much older boy sat down beside me and said, “Let me see your pussy.” I knew by his tone that something was wrong with him and that something was wrong with what he was saying, but I had absolutely no idea what. I did not

Don’t Call Me Father

Just before the end of his life I showed my father a DNA paternity test that convinced him that I am without question his child. Anyone looking at our hands or personalities would have known this. In fact, throughout my life people had commented that they could see the similarities in our personalities, both a good and a bad thing in that steady thought processes are good, too much natural reticence is bad. Still, throughout my life when I addressed my father as “Father” because that is who he was to me, he would snap at me, “Don’t call me that.” I attributed it to his being sensitive to the word itself, because he was the child of a single mother who had only vague claims to having been

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