Knowing that I will soon sell my yellow brick house and move to more senior-manageable housing is alternatively sad and exciting. This morning I feel the leave-taking more keenly, and cry a little as I sort through and discard the many, many photographs that I took of my yard as I planted it with trees, shrubs, flowers, and herbs for over a decade. Here are two photographs of the pretty, edible, common mallow that I grew in my yard. Caption: Common Mallow Is Uncommonly Pretty And Edible by Annmarie Throckmorton 2009 Caption: Common Mallow And Irises Over Stepping Stones Placed And Planted by Annmarie Throckmorton 2009

I want to preface the following anecdote by saying that there are many, many kind, loving people living in Bloomington, Illinois; and I enjoy interacting with them. I telephoned the Water and Refuse Department for the City of Bloomington this week with a couple of follow-up questions about the auto deduction bill payment plan I had just setup online. I got a surly fellow by the name of Tim. Tim refused to give me the Water and Refuse Department number so that I could call back later, and he instead transferred me to somebody's voice mail. I called Tim back asking for the direct number, we were quarreling within seconds, and I sputtered "You're so Illinois." because I have lived here eleven

Recently the media has been derisively catcalling feminists as if they should be held accountable for 21st century social ills regarding women, as if they should have fixed it all before now. My pun is intended, NOW is the National Organization for Women*, a 20th century organization working for the advancement of women in society since 1966. In response, as my avatar AdroitWaterBear, I posted to One America News Network, July 25, 2019 the following: OAN Reporter. Stop dumping on feminists (many of whom are now elderly-in their sixties and seventies), because in the mid-twentieth century that braying jacka$$ Rush Limbaugh got het up on drugs and harangued them nationwide by calling them "fe

I was young, now I am old, what is becoming of me? Transduced*. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... Transduce. To convert (something, such as energy or a message) into another form. Caption: Transduced At Death by Annmarie Throckmorton 2019

Father liked to tease mother. One of his jokes was to announce, "She eats like a bird." Then he would bellow out, "Ha, ha, ha, all of the time!" He enjoyed his joke without ever noticing that while it amused her, it also annoyed my mother. He refused to diet but she struggled to stay on a slimming diet for most of her adult life. When she could resist a bag of chips, she snacked on a saucer of crackers and cheese, or a little bit of celery and cottage cheese, or some other nibbles. She snacked every few hours to keep her hunger pangs at bay. "Ha, ha, ha, all of the time!" My father had such fun with his corny jokes that he got away with them. He was never on a diet and he became quit

Caption: Calling Innocent Old White People Racist—screen capture of post by Annmarie Throckmorton 2019 Note: many old people today are of the American "Baby Boomer" generation, a cohort known for much social protest to secure equal rights for people of all colors, humane treatment for animals of all sorts, and cleanliness for the environment worldwide; so to suddenly call them racist is a cruel return for their love and efforts.

I know from personal experience that, even worse than physical torture is the feeling that: I did not, could not do what needed to be done to protect my loved ones from harm. But how does one protect the world when one is not a god? This feeling of failure to protect brought me to prolonged tears yesterday, as I listened to English professional conspiracy theorist and philosopher David Icke vlog on about how plants are conscious, how plants have feelings of fear and sadness, how plants live in families. Well then, what will vegans eat? And will not the tenderhearted Jains* of India find it difficult to pull rice away from its family? I too love plants, I always have. And thinking about t

Caption: The Companionship Of Humanity Is Overrated. by Annmarie Throckmorton 2019

In the early part of the 21st century, a cannabis/marijuana-THC* false positive on one's medical record is detrimental and indelible. The following recounts what happened when the Midwest Center for Sleep Medicine placed such a false positive in my medical records on November 23, 2011. SUMMARY STATEMENT: complaint about false positive cannabis/marijuana-THC*. RE: overnight sleep test & next day nap study, at Midwest Center for Sleep Medicine on November, 23 2011, ordered by Dr. Burr, pulmonologist and co-owner of Midwest Center for Sleep Medicine Because (1) the “specimen analysis was performed without chain of custody handling” as stated on the BroMenn lab report, (2) THC false-positive

Like a coin, this story of when I had a sleepover at a sleep apnea clinic has two sides to it. For today I am going to tell it on the face of it, the obverse side, which is to me the amusing side of it. I will leave the reverse side of this experience, the tail of the coin (pun intended) of what happened to me after I fell asleep in this sleep apnea clinic for another post. In 2013 a sleep apnea study in a clinic cost about $3K, plus equipment ≈ $4K. I felt this was exorbitant and I also believed that my breathing difficulties were caused by allergies because my nose is always stuffy when I live in the Midwest and my breathing is clear as a bell when I live near the ocean, due to lack of

When I rented my first apartment in an old neighborhood of Minneapolis, Minnesota, I was so happy to have my own sanctuary that I dusted every morning before work. Dusting made me feel that I had set things in order before I walked to the hospital where I had my second job in life as a nursing aide. I did not have any furniture other than a mattress box set on a metal frame that the previous tenant had left behind and a short, raggedy sofa which I had salvaged from trash set out along a street, but my living room had beautiful wainscoting which I diligently dusted. The wooden paneling that lined the lower part of my living room walls was a nice rich mahogany that gleamed under my care. My

Technique To Resist Shame. A technique to resist shame is to, in the privacy of one's home or mind, self-denigrate with all the curses and vile name-calling which one fears or has experienced, so as to take ownership of them, to become impervious to them. Weep your imprecations, rage scream them, snarl them viciously, make them real. However, pay attention to managing your emotions rather than to the word content, and limit this exercise to just a few minutes. Once is enough for this exercise. Subsequently when someone denigrates you, you have already called yourself similar or worse and you can manage your emotions to calmly decide which response you wish to feel. Technique To Comfort A

After my monthly roundtrip to Chicago, it takes me several days to recover my wits and physical abilities, such as I still have them. To distract myself while idle, I finished the portrait of a young man who did some yard work for me a few years ago. I wish I still had his contact information so that I could give him his portrait. I chose brilliant colors to convey the excitement one feels at beginning of life. Caption: At The Beginning Of His Life by Annmarie Throckmorton 2009

As I was driving out of Chicago today, frazzled and worn from business machinations, I was disconcerted to see two men in conservative gray, skinny slim fit suits walking along with brightly colored backpacks slung casually over their broad shoulders. I think of men in suits with briefcases; and I was surprised, unsettled, then tickled to see them wearing backpacks. Doubtless they were on their way to the gym for a lunchtime workout. I tried to paint a picture of this, but I only got as far as the initial disconcertment in my mind's eye. Caption: Disconcerted In My Mind's Eye By Men In Skinny Suits With Backpacks by Annmarie Throckmorton 2019

It is funny how memories work. While watching a Nicolas Cage movie recently, entitled Next, I remembered an incident in Las Vegas when someone set off the fire alarms in the casino-hotel where I was staying. The movie Next panned from the hotel foyer out underneath the grand high arches of the front entrance; and I remembered with a chill that I had stood on that very spot beneath those hotel entrance arches just a few decades ago. It was about 3 AM in the morning when the hotel fire alarms went off and my friend did not want to get up out of sleep. But I convinced him by heading out myself and he trailed along after me. He was only somewhat persuaded that it was better to be troubled by

I was very excited to buy my first car and I chose a joyously purple one. To save the money I lived in my parents' house for most of my twentieth year, and I rode a flimsy moped to work through all sorts of frightening traffic and bad weather. When I had the money saved, I did a little research then walked into the dealership with a bundle of cash in my purse. At the time I had no credit cards. I did not even have a bank account. I told the salesman which car I wanted; and I put the cash down. They were impressed. I did not even know that I could, should bargain to lower the price. I paid the sticker price. I drove over to my paternal grandmother's apartment to show her my prize. M

In 1983, my first computer was a Commodore 64, an 8-bit brick-like computer with 64 kilobytes of RAM and a keyboard on top, upon which I began all of my graduate studies work, research, statistics, data storage, and word processing of reports. My graduate advisor insisted on selling his old Commodore 64 to me, and later I found out that he had charged me almost the price of a new computer. Professor Wen Li was a thoroughly dishonest man and good at hiding it. The tiny jerry-rigged monitor he sold to me showed only a single row of characters, the rest of what I was doing I had to keep in my head as I worked. I already knew how to do this from working with the LCD display typewriter which

As we walked along a beautiful beach on the Pacific Ocean my taciturn acquaintance mentioned to me out of the blue that he loathed all people over 5 feet 5 inches tall*, adding that they should not exist. So as not to spook or provoke him I mildly commented, "I am over 5'5" tall, I am 5'6"" He muttered unpleasantly, "Yeah, I know." I looked over his slight 5'5" frame and I knew that I would never see him again. But I wondered why he felt that way, so before I left him I asked him to explain. He groused and made mean faces then he briefly stated that tall people use up too much of the world's resources, and there is no "need" for anyone to be taller than 5'5" tall. He said that he had r

Comments I posted on "Rapinoe's Advice For President Trump | The News & Why It Matters Ep. 327 " by BlazeTV, July 11, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=leVxExE3JNU&t=696s AdroitWaterBear With my own two eyes, the women's soccer team did not "drop" the American flag, they threw it to the ground to avoid having that symbol of our country's pride in their victory photo. Shows they were playing only for themselves, not our country. nomda ploom What did you see? AdroitWaterBear Rapinoe pushed/gestured to get American flag out of camera view for group victory jump photo without it, athlete holding the flag tried to throw flag aside to the ground but she got tangled in flag and trampled it a

Caption: Tardis-Aliens who are us from our future would explain why they are harsh, dismissive, but not harmful. by Annmarie Throckmorton 2019