Thursday, December 03, 2009

Dear Miss Mermaid Averts Disaster, Again...

I'm in the USA right now.

I had to mail off a super important small package to a sailing friend in Florida. I had finally found the parts I needed to mail, the bubble wrap to protect them, and I had previously picked up the free US Postal Service box to pack it all in.

Their fancy free boxes are like exotic cake boxes and require 5 thumbs and 12 fingers to assemble. Somehow I managed to get the bubble wrapped contents, ensconced in the box, fold up the flat cardboard into the desire box-like shape, (after only 5 tries) peel off the tape strip, which was thoughtfully attached to the box, and stick the whole mess together.

Surprisingly, it looked very neat and professionally done (in under two hours). I put the correct address on it and it was imperative I get it in the mail immediately, despite the storm raging outside.

By the way, I'm camping out at a friend's house until I become un-homeless. My friend yelled "WAIT! I have an envelope for you to mail too!"

I waited another 20 minutes while he got his check, envelope and postage ready. He couldn't find the address to the place where he has mailed a check to for the past 6 years, so I had a delay while he searched the Internet and finally called someone located in India who told him in broken English, the correct US address.

Apparently customer service for many companies has strangely moved to India, presumably because the wages are cheaper and the lawsuits non-existent.

Go figure.

The storm was decidedly worse with a tornado warning, 30-40 mile per hour winds and driving rains. Luckily the post office was only a mile away and they had a drive-through. With the box addressed and stamped plus ditto for the envelope, I thought I could brave the torrential mess and make it back alive.


I was nearly killed!

It was one of those things where folks would have scratched their heads and wondered "WHY was Dear Miss Mermaid run over flat in the middle of a six lane highway during a storm, wearing pajamas?"

I am sure it would have puzzled them for eons.

OK, it wasn't exactly pajamas, (but I do sleep in them) and therefore think them inappropriate for outside wear. My friend had gifted me with sweat pants and a sweat shirt one day when I was shaking from the cold uncontrollably. They make great pajamas and house wear. I see folks out and about in their sweat pants and sweat shirt, but somehow, I just didn't have the nerve to do that.

Until today.

I was all snuggled up in my oversized sweat pants and sweat shirt, plus some fur lined moccasins shod on my feet (mermaids grow feet if they are too far from the ocean too long) and I thought if I dashed out to the clunker of a junker (my latest mode of transport) and only drove straight to the post office drive-through and back, all would be fine and no one would know.

THANK GOODNESS, I decided to put on a long Trench Coat.

Just in case.

Besides my clunker of a junker takes a long time to heat up, and I didn't want to be cold, even for a short ride. This trench coat is long and toasty warm and somewhat impervious to water. The sleeves are a little too long, but as long as my fingers can grip the steering wheel, I was happy for the warm wrists.

So I battled the elements, the chilling rains coming down by the bucketfuls, and prayed the tornado warnings were meant for everybody but me, and set out to drive the one mile to the post office, which included two traffic lights and two turns. After 22 years of driving on the left, I chant to myself "drive on the right, drive on the right" as I go down the road.

Which by the way, did you hear about the tornado that flattened the avocado trees, then tore up the tomato patch and devastated the potato crop? They called it the avocado potato tomato tornado", as it flung tomatoes, dirt laden potatoes, and unripened avocados all over town. (If you're bored, try saying "avocado potato tomato tornado" as fast as you can ten times!)


I was so proud that I remembered to go through the sneaky entrance-only and not the exit. You can't see the sneaky entrance-only, to the post office until it's too late and many end up entering the exit-only. I know because when I went to pick up my free box, I ended up in the exit-only, but no one was there to scold me, so I snuck right in and parked before anyone could yell at me.

But on this wet and showery day, I sailed right through the entrance-only, headed for the exit-only where the drive-through mail boxes are located and all was going well until I stopped at the drive by mail box.

It was high. I mean real high! I mean if I had been driving a huge 18 wheel tractor trailer, then I might have been able to reach the drive through mail box easily. It was pouring rain as I reversed and then drove forward again, skimming the heavy concrete curb, to line up with the box again. It was taller than my clunker of a junker! I listened to the window hiss as the electric motor let it down, and I stretched my arm until I thought it would pop right out of my socket, and I was able to dump the small box and the letter down the chute to the mail box.

I was immensely proud of this feat, in spite of the fact, a gallon of water had just run down the sleeve of my trench coat and deposited icy cold water into my armpit, when a sudden gale came out of nowhere and snatched the letter right out of the mail chute and sent it flying in front of my windshield, then deposited it somewhere in front of my clunker of a junker.

I gasped!


I couldn't just leave it there and go back and tell my friend "Sorry, your check and envelope blew away in the storm, and therefore wasn't mailed at all!"

Even worse, I might have to make a SECOND trip out into this deluge to make good on my errand, once I peeled my friend off the ceiling and got them to write a new check, find an envelope, call India for the address, and OOOPS, I just recalled, we had used their very last stamp on the errant envelope, so this just would not do at all. That would mean I would have to go get dressed so I could go inside the post office and buy another stamp. Tsk tsk tsk.

I put the clunker of a junker into neutral, yanked up the hand brake, made sure it wasn't moving forward or backwards, then tried to climb out of the car. The door hit the mailbox and only gave me a sliver to squish my body, sweat suit and trench coat through, but I made it, then I had to shut the door and walk sideways like a crab and finally I spy THE ENVELOPE in front of the clunker of a junker, inches from a massive rain puddle.

I bent over to retrieve the envelope, the engine still running, and praying silently my clunker of a junker wouldn't suddenly disengage the handbrake and mow me down, when as I swear my fingers were less than an inch from the envelope, a gust of wind picked it up and flung it out into the six lane highway in front of us.

By now, a frigid river of rain was running inside the collar of the trench coat and down my back, slowly filling up my furry moccasins. I watched with profound horror, as a car ran right over the envelope and tossed it into the median.

Now the median on this particular highway is actually what I call a "free for all" as cars and trucks can pull into the median to make left turns, or pull half way across the highway and wait in the median, until they get into a proper lane of traffic going their way. I noticed the envelope had tire treads across the back of it.

As the gullywasher continued around me in near 40 F degree weather, I darted and dashed between cars and trucks and found myself in the median, bending over, once again, to retrieve this g**d*** envelope.

I hear the screech of brakes and look up as the grill of some new exotic car slides to a stop just inches from me bent over and hovering in the median. By now, my hair is soaked, my furry moccasins are rain laden and my throat closes up and my heart stops and I get VERY dizzy. The driver of the sleek car that nearly killed me looks like something out of a bad fright movie.

Like a drunken sailor, I weave and stumble my way back through traffic, stuff the envelope into the mail chute while noting there are three cars patiently waiting behind my parked one so they can use the mail chute too.

I slither sideways between the mail box and my car, open the door and note with disdain, I have left the window down, so the interior of my clunker of a junker is just soaked, and I manage to squeeze myself between the narrow opening and back into my car seat.

I can't breathe, my head is spinning, and my heart has now jump started and is racing away faster than a reggae beat. Everything spins out of control. I sit, dripping and frozen in my clunker of a junker, waiting for air to enter my lungs before I just pass right out.

Someone behind me honks, but there is just nothing I can do. I need AIR. They beep again and I wonder why don't they just call 911 and announce a dead mermaid is blocking the mail chute?

Seconds or minutes, I don't know, I eased off the hand brake, and let the car roll to the edge of the six lane highway and stop again. Maybe this will appease the honker.

I will my lungs to OPEN up and let some air in. Finally, the the air comes, the dizziness leaves and though my heart is still pounding pretty heavily, I see an opening in traffic, so I enter the six lane highway and make it back to my friend's house in a dream like state.

At their driveway, I park and sit and watch the windows steam up. Finally I work up my nerve to brace the icy cold waterfall from the clouds and make a run for their house door.

I rapidly head for their bathroom, hang up my trench coat in the shower, put a towel around my soaked hair, and then head for their living room to stand over the heating vent and try to thaw out. I slip out of my soaked shoes and was sliding on socks when my friend walks into the room.

"What took you so long?"

"Did you mail my envelope?"

Wednesday, December 02, 2009

Shopping at Goodwill

Goodwill receives a "kind" donation: $1,500 worth of pot

By Sarah Gilbert
Dec 1st 2009

It seemed like an innocent enough donation. A Marietta, Ohio Goodwill store received a large galvanized metal water jug with a spout -- perfect to hold lemonade during some long-ago summer picnic. Yet, the jug, which was donated anonymously, wasn't holding a refreshing drink; instead, it was filled with a heady cargo of marijuana.

The weed, bagged and labeled according to weight (i.e.; 124 grams) carries a street value of $1,500, local police said, and was about a year old; leading them to conclude that the stash had been accidentally abandoned.

The police, in their thigh-slapping funny way, are asking for the anonymous donor to come forward. "If anybody would like to come in and claim this 'cooler,' which is probably an antique, we would love to have them come in and we'll be more than happy to try and get that cooler returned to them," Marietta Police Capt. Jeff Waite told Charleston, West Virginia news station WSAZ.

Unless the original owner of the pot forgot where he (or she) had stashed his, well, stash, I doubt the donor knew what was inside the ancient-looking jug; so it's unlikely the perpetrator will come forward.

Or maybe this is fodder for some slapstick home-for-Christmas movie, with Judd Apatow cast as the ne'er-do-well grandson who comes back from basic training only to discover that his grandmother has donated his beloved pot to Goodwill. Already I'm imagining the scene in the Marietta thrift store when he tries to recover his drugs by buying the jug...


Hey, I'm off to the Goodwill in Ohio, I want to buy that cooler and herb, and help that Charity out!


Thursday, November 26, 2009

20% Off Dear Miss Mermaid Calendars and Designs


The folks who handle printing and shipping of Dear Miss Mermaid's 2010 Calendars (six to choose from) are offering TODAY only, 20% off ay purchases made from Dear Miss Mermaid's Treasure Chest. Calendars make a great gift for yourself and others. Everything at the Treasure Chest is 20% off today, so take a look around. You can preview the calendar pages and inspect the spectacular pictures before hand. All

Use coupon code FEAST4ME

Dear Miss Mermaid wants you to be HAPPY with your purchases and offers this;

Satisfaction Guarantee

100% Money Back Guarantee

Shop from home with the comfort of knowing that your order is backed by a 100% Money Back Guarantee. This 30-Day Guarantee gives you plenty of time to check items for color, high-quality, and size for yourself, family and friends.


A Thanksgiving Feast At The Rock Café

A Thanksgiving Feast
At The Rock Café
Virgin Gorda
British Virgin Islands

The Classic Soup
Carrots, pumpkin, orange and ginger zest
November Salad
Fresh baby spinach, green apples, crispy bacon,
dressed with delicious lemon/Dijon vinagrette
Herb-Roasted Turkey
With Pacific Northwest stuffing
The ultimate potatoes au gratin
and sweet peppers “Peperonata”
Rich Rustic Apple Tarte

Complimentary glass of :
Pinot Bianco Fornitz – Italy, 2008
Cabernet Fornitz – Italy, 2008


Price per person: $55.00

Menu a la carte & fresh lobster also available



For Reservation: +1-284-495-5482

Happy Turkey Day!

A big thank you for a beautiful Jacquie Lawson card from my gentle readers, Linda and Jack. I am sharing it with you here, ENJOY!

Check out my bikini Turkey recipe, complete with more pics!

Some of my other recipes:

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Happy Thanksgiving

A big thank you to Jim who sent me this card I wish to share with you all!

A Friend Is Like A Good Bra

A Friend Is Like A Good Bra.. .
Hard to Find...
Always Lifts You Up...
Never Lets You Down, or Leaves You Hanging,
And Is Always Close To Your Heart!


Subject: Ladies Public Restrooms

When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place.

Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.

You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!

The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty.

You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance."

In this position your aging, toneless(Gosh, I should have gone to the gym!) thigh muscles begin to shake.

You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance".

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That will have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work.

The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet.

"Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious,tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT.

It is wet of course.

You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper- not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try.

You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get".

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes.

The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.

At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat.

You're e-x-h-a-u-s-t-e-d.

You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.

You are no longer able to smile politely to them.

A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly,"Here, you just might need this".

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom.

Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse, and hand you Kleenex under the door!

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Keep Dear Miss Mermaid Writing

Dear Miss Mermaid is fervently working on 3 more books, yes 3! But the only way to keep her writing is to support her tuna addiction by buying her books or calendars or graphic designs available on various products including apparel and housewares. Otherwise Dear Miss Mermaid has to go get an outside job flipping burgers or something to support her writing addiction. Your support gets more books out on the market sooner and for this, she is eternally grateful!

Save yourself time, gas and stress, shop from your computer for Christmas, wrap and tag your gifts, and call it a "done deal!"

For Christmas gifts you have several bargains to choose from on buying Dear Miss Mermaid's latest book "Hurricanes and Hangovers (and other tall tales and loose lies from the coconut telegraph)"

It makes a GREAT gift for anyone who likes to laugh! One size fits all!

Buy 2 or more books from Amazon and get FREE SHIPPING

Buy direct from Dear Miss Mermaid through Amazon and get $1 off (pay $14.99 instead of $15.99 for the book, this is for you folks that are feeling the pinch and need a break)

Get a copy SIGNED BY THE AUTHOR and shipped by Dear Miss Mermaid through Amazon for $17.99 (the extra $2 goes towards the hospital bills, see the July and August blog links at bottom of page for hospital details)

ALL order ship WORLDWIDE!

Also note that, once you use any of these links to enter Amazon, anything else you buy at Amazon (the same day) provides Dear Miss Mermaid a small referral commission.

Shop for 2010 Calendars designed by Dear Miss Mermaid and on sale through CafePress.Com/DearMissMermaid . Choose from six designs that include stunning photographs, a different one for each month. You can even preview all the photos before buying. All calendars ship worldwide, as do the numerous other products available there too.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Bet This Pilot Needs New Undies Now

Bad Bad Parrot!

The old ones are the best !!!

John received an older parrot as a gift. The parrot had a bad attitude and an even worse vocabulary.

Every word out of the bird's mouth was rude, obnoxious and laced with profanity. John tried and tried to change the bird's attitude by consistently saying only polite words, playing soft music and anything else he could think of to 'clean up' the bird's vocabulary.

Finally John was fed up and he yelled at the parrot. The parrot yelled back. John shook the parrot and the parrot got angrier and even more rude. In desperation, John threw up his hand, grabbed the bird and put him in the freezer. For a few minutes the parrot squawked and kicked and screamed. Then suddenly there was total quiet. Not a peep was heard for over a minute.

Fearing that he'd hurt the parrot, John quickly opened the door to the freezer. The parrot calmly stepped out onto John's outstretched arms and said "I believe I may have offended you with my rude language and actions. I'm sincerely remorseful for my inappropriate transgressions and I fully intend to do everything I can to correct my rude and unforgivable behavior."

John was stunned at the change in the bird's attitude.

As he was about to ask the parrot what had made such a dramatic change in his behavior, the bird spoke-up, very softly, "May I please ask what that turkey did?"


Hilarious Cat and Cop Video

The cat tried everything to keep this cop from writing a ticket!

Painful Times

Sometimes the waves of pain hit. I can't think, my mind is filled with pain. Due to the numerous harmful effects of prescription pain killers, I avoid them unless I am screaming uncontrollably.

I have bottles of the stuff, and I try to leave it in the bottle. Many cause kidney and liver damages, so I don't want to add insult to injury, if at all possible.

But sometimes the hurt is overwhelming and all I can do is stop what I am doing and focus on breathing exercises and chanting until the physical annoyance subsides. Sometimes this makes me incredibly sleepy and sleep is a great way to ease pain too. But if you are out in public, this can pose a serious problem.

Once the pain is gone, I get on with life! I am grateful to be alive today and tremendously thankful for the times I am pain free.

I recently got stuck in the back of a large discount store. I was suddenly in so much pain, my head was swimming and I was fighting the urge to just scream out loud! I frantically looked around the huge store for a place to sit and was trying to make my way to the restrooms and sit there if need be, though it's not that comfy, if you don't really need the toilet, as many public bathrooms don't have a place to sit except the toilet.

Thank goodness I had a rolling buggy cat with me, as I was leaning heavily on it while I searched for a place to rest before I just passed right out.

The angels must have been watching me and carefully steered me to the only place to sit in the entire humongous store: a cheap dining set that was on display. I quickly pulled out a chair and sat down. I began my breathing exercises and inner chanting, until the pain subsided.

Years ago, I spent a small fortune with a legitimate hypnotist who taught me a great deal about pain management. I won't go into the whole detail here, but basically, I focus on an object and think of a very pleasant area (it's the same place each time) while I silently chant over and over until the pain is gone.

It works, but it takes time and focusing, hence staring at one object and clearing out the brain. Thinking of the pleasant place, brings on a flood of good feelings, while I chant to myself silently over and over, which also clears the brain. Basically, I am telling my brain to cease all functions except eliminating the pain. The brain is a powerful tool that many of us woefully under use. By trying to chase out all other thoughts, I then try to channel all my brain power into eliminating the pain.

It's not easy, but it works!

After awhile, in the store, consciousness came back to me and I became aware that other shoppers were passing by me with strange looks pointed at me, which embarrassed me. I grew up in the old south and blush at the tiniest indiscretion.

I needed to rest a few more minutes, to regather my strength to get out of the store and into the car and home again. Well at least to my temporary home, where I could rest without worry.

I began studying the table, rubbing my hands on it. I pulled out pen and paper and pretended to scribble down notes. I squeezed the padding of the chairs and made a scribble and so on. Now the shoppers were ignoring me. Then I discovered on a pole behind me was the computer price checker thingy. So I slid my chair over and began pulling things out of my cart and beeping them through, whenever a shopper appeared on my aisle.

An employee never turned up, thankfully, but if they had, I would have had to tell them the truth, I was feeling quite ill and just needed to sit for a few minutes. I noticed all their other furniture, sofas, chairs and so on, were on high shelves, so you could look at them but not sit on them. I can't imagine buying sitting furniture and not being able to sit on it first, but I guess that's how the discount stores do it. I don't know, I wasn't shopping for furniture.

So today, I started on my projects and then keep getting interrupted by the pain, but I stop, do my thing, and the pain goes away, then I go back to work.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Big Favor to Ask my Readers

If you have read my book, please think about posting a Review at Amazon. I can not post my own reviews, so while I greatly appreciate any reviews you email me directly with, I'm not allowed to post them at Amazon, only you can.

To post a review, click on the advertisement. Thank you VERY much!


I haven't written much at all about what's happened to Dear Miss Mermaid...

She set off traveling 6 or 7 weeks ago. She had one of her trusted buddies with her; a cat who has resided with her for about 9 years. They were planning to acquire and old used motorhome and go on a book tour (promoting and selling books and finishing up the next book).

In sailor terms:
She set sail and on the final leg of the first day's journey, the mermaid's cat of 9 years, escaped. He is presumed alive and living among pirates. DMM detoured and searched fervently then she ended up marooned far inland, about 60 miles from where the cat vanished, also inland.

To find the putty-tat, she bought a wreck of a car (which was not the original intended mode of travel) and began traveling back to the area searching for the errant feline to no avail. Yes, it's a running wreck, banged up and only 20 years old, but the engine runs great.

DMM became seriously ill again, and further physical searches for the pussy cat temporarily ceased although a few neighborhood posters were put up, the neighborhood is very rural with few places to post at all.

Meanwhile, to aid in finding the errant cat, DMM offered a reward, utilized an automated fee-paid phone call alert service, attempted to hire a cat tracker, posted numerous Internet ads, bought newspaper ads in 8 newspapers, posted neighborhood posters and mailed out 1,000 custom printed postcards offering a reward for the kitty cat.

And still no critter.

Meanwhile, a very sad and lonely DMM continues to be marooned, on a friend's sofa, while she recuperates, looks for the missing feline and contemplates her future. Previously, a friend donated two stuffed kitties to keep her company in the hospital, and they are still keeping stoic company with her now.

None of this was in the original plans, when DMM set out. Searching for the beloved cat, has turned out to be expensive and practically eliminated the traveling kitty (funding) as well.

You plan one thing, then something else entirely different happens.

I guess that's called life.

DMM is working on plan B, that life might have to go on, even with the cat missing in action and this has been one tough pill to swallow that Dear Miss Mermaid just spits right back up. She refuses to give up hope or searching for the lost cat. 51 days and counting.

ON SALE, Ships Worldwide:

Designs by Dear Miss Mermaid including 2010 Calendars (Numerous novelty gifts to choose from.)

Thursday, November 19, 2009

No Email for Dear Miss Mermaid!

I haven't been able to access my email or computer for a few days now. First AOL started randomly crashing, then my laptop computer crashed. Granted it is old technology, for economic reasons, I need to slug away with it as long as possible. I can't just rush out and buy a new computer, when I have all these medical bills looming heavily over my head.

I've always paid my bills, but this medical nightmare has really thrown a monkey wrench into things. Income went down, bills went up and suddenly things are a mess.

Also, I was working part-time for a company that saw my sudden hospitalization as a reason not to pay me my back earnings. Shame on them! I continue to try to collect, and they continue to try to dodge me.

Sooooooooo.......... if you read my blogs and wonder why I haven't been able to update, it's because some of my blogs are email driven and some are not. Either way I need a computer to write.

I am trying to uninstall AOL and the install their new 9.5 version and see if that helps. My current version doesn't seem to work at all, possibly because my computer crashed a lot lately.

Oh my goodness, please don't force me into widows Vista. I've worked with it and found it horrible and don't wish to work with it again.

Where is Dear Miss Mermaid?

Where in the world is Dear Miss Mermaid?

This picture gives you a HINT!,autumn, fall, leaves,walnut

How to Get your Email Under Control Again

Again, just checking mail. Been busy but sorry I missed so much. I'm changing my address for email, 350 emails in my box!!! I have no time but to delete, but I go through one by one, given the time.

How to Get your Email Under Control Again by Dear Miss Mermaid

There are many legitimate reasons to have multiple email addresses, and this presorts your email so you know which accounts have the stuff you want to read and which accounts you can just hit the delete all when you open them.

My list of six email accounts are sorted something like this:

Trusted friends and relatives
Junk & Other Website Requirements
Bulletin Board, Chat Room, Networking Sites
Mail Order Confirmations

Many sites want your email address before you can use the free site. In reality, many are simply asking you for your email so they can automatically subscribe you to their newsletters, and many unscrupulous sites sell and give away your address, and soon you have hundreds if not thousands of emails you never wanted.

Before I sign up on a website, I open up my junk email, delete everything, then sign up for the website, I wait for the email confirmation or whatever I have to do to gain entry to the site. Now these folks don't have my REAL email address, they only have my junk email address.

Elsewhere, I make a note of log-in names and password if need be, if I plan to visit the site again.

Changing your REAL email address is a true pain in the elbow and you invariably lose contact with folks you would actually like to hear from. So have several email addresses for various uses and your email will become presorted and controllable.

Many websites insist you sign up with your email name to access their site. This can be rather frustrating, but always use your "Junk email" name. Then you can retrieve whatever password or link they send you to enable you to access the site. Any more junk they choose to send you ends up there and not in your REAL email address. Use your real email address for trusted friends and relatives.

Now, open up your real mail and sort it quickly before you start reading anything. YOu may still have to use "report spam" and email those pecky folks that forward everything under the sun to you.

Use your "report spam" button for the spammers on all accounts, when you have time. This helps the rest of the world and spam sorting programs figure out who is sending all this unwated spam.

Delete the "forwards" unless you were expecting a "forward"

Email the people who forward stuff, you never read, and ask them to please remove you from their forward list. Some people use your email address found on "forwards" to send you even more junk. It can quickly spiral out of control. If the person refuses to stop sending you forwards, then write and tell them you have changed your email address ad give them your junk email address. Block their address from your real email, if they never send you personal or useful emails anyhow.

Having my email presorted, has worked wonders. I know where to find my business email, here again, only used for business. If folks start filling it up with forwards, I send them a nice note, and if that doesn't stop the forwards and crap, then I block their email. True business professionals, will not abuse your business email. For the most part, my business email is easy to navigate. Ditto for my real email for trusted friends and relatives, folks that actually write me a personal note and that I want to correspond with.

I love opening my junk email, laughing out loud at the 2116 emails from the past few days, selecting all and reporting spam or deleting them.

By having several email accounts, for specific reason, I am able to plow through my important emails rather quickly.

I am a picky consumer, and do not randomly shop for junk. Sometimes I resort to mail-order to get the just-perfect thing I desire. I might be picky about size or color or something. Much of my life I have lived in space challenged places where I had no room for junk anyhow, so my few purchases had to be well chosen for durbility, size, aethtics and so on. Living on a boat, owning something, meant having a place to store it safely too, so I am often picky about measurements, weight and so on.

I have a specail email account just for my mail orders, so I can recive invoices, confirmations or correspond about the product if there is a problem. Most reputable businesses let you opt-out of the newsletters and sale papers and so on. If they come to abuse my account to heavily, it's easy to close it our and open up a new email account. Next time I mail-order, I can give them the new email address.

20% Off Dear Miss Mermaid Calendars and Designs

Follow this link and use code 20EARLYBIRD, today only November 19th to buy 2010 Calendars or other products designed by Dear Miss Mermaid.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Press Two For English

I came to America and is English still the national language? Seems like everywhere I call, some computer type voice answers and tells me to press one for English!

Good grief.

I expected and encountered this sometimes overseas, where people from various countries may be reaching the same call center, but in America?

Are these calls actually being routed overseas and they have no idea who is calling so therefore they have to give us a list of languages? Are Americans no longer expected to be able to speak English? I thought that's why Puerto Ricans get English classes at school, because they are Americans and should at least know the language of the mother country, even if they do continue to speak only Spanish out of cultural pride.

Why not expand on this whole language concept? Here's Dear Miss Mermaid's take on it:

You have reached out automated dis-service:
Press One if you're Lonely
Press Two for English
Para Espanol, Oprima Numero Tres
Slap dat Fo' fo' Ebonics or ax fo' da brutha or sista
Press Five for Southern and if ya fixin' to hang up, ya'll come back, ya hear?
Press Six for sign language, if you are deaf
Press Seven if you're lucky
Press Eight for braille
Press Nine if you are mute
Press Zero if you have Alzheimer's
Press Ten if you are Blond
Press Pound for a game of Tic-Tac-Toe while you wait
Press Four Twenty if you are stoned (and forgot why you called)
Pres Six Six Six for the devil
Press Star to curse the system
Press Sixty-Nine for Sex
Press Eighty-Six if you are out of it
Press N.O. for Cajun Music while you wait
Press Nine One One if this phone system is killing you
Press Bubba for Rednecks and don't be pressin' no more numbas or dis phone whip your ass
To hear this recording again; hang up and redial...

Speaking of Manners...

During one of her daily classes, a teacher trying to teach good manners, asked her students the following question:

" Michael, if you were on a date having dinner witha nice young lady, how would you tell her that you have to go to the bathroom?"

Michael said: "Just a minute, I have to go pee."

The teacher responded saying: " That would be rude and impolite. What about you Sherman, how would you say it?"

Sherman said: " I am sorry, but I really need to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

" That's better, but it's still not very nice to say the word bathroom at the dinner table"

" And you, little Johnny, can you use your brain for once and show us your good manners?"

Johnny said: " I would say....Darling, may I please be excused for a moment? I have to shake hands with a very dear friend of mine, whom I hope to introduce you to after dinner."

Speaking of Heaven... (this story was told to me)

I was testing the children in my Sunday school class to see if they understood the concept of getting to heaven.

I asked them, 'If I sold my house and my car, had a big garage sale and gave all my money to the church;

Would that get me into Heaven?'

'NO!' the children answered.

'If I cleaned the church every day, mowed the yard, and kept everything neat and tidy, would that get me into Heaven?'

Again, the answer was, 'NO!'

By now I was starting to smile.

Hey, this was fun!

'Well, then, if I was kind to animals and gave candy to all the children, and loved my husband, would that get me into Heaven?'

I asked them again.

Again, they all answered, 'NO!'

I was just bursting with pride for them.

'Well,' I continued, 'then how can I get into Heaven?'
A five-year-old boy shouted out,


The American Medical Association has weighed in on the new Universal
Health Plan.

Allergists voted to scratch it, but
the Dermatologists advised not to make any rash moves.
The Gastroenterologists had sort of a gut feeling about it, but
the Neurologists thought the Administration had a lot of nerve.
The Obstetricians felt they were all laboring under a misconception.
Ophthalmologists considered the idea shortsighted.
Pathologists yelled, "Over my dead body!" while
the Pediatricians said, 'Oh, Grow up!'
The Psychiatrists thought the whole idea was madness, while
the Radiologists could see right through it.
Surgeons decided to wash their hands of the whole thing.
The Internists thought it was a bitter pill to swallow, and
the Plastic Surgeons said, "This puts a whole new face on the matter."
The Podiatrists thought it was a step forward, but
the Urologists were pissed off at the whole idea.
The Anesthesiologists thought the whole idea was a gas, and
the Cardiologists didn't have the heart to say no.
In the end, the Proctologists won out, leaving the entire decision up to the assholes in Washington.

And Now for Today's Naughty Joke...

A chicken farmer went to a local bar, sat next to a woman and ordered a glass of champagne.

The woman perked up and said, 'How about that? I just ordered a glass of champagne, too!'

'What a coincidence' the farmer said. 'This is a special day for me. I am celebrating.'

'This is a special day for me too, I am also celebrating,' said the woman.

'What a coincidence!' said the farmer.

As they clinked glasses he added, 'What are you celebrating?'

'My husband and I have been trying to have a child and today my gynecologist told me that I am pregnant!'

'What a coincidence!' said the man.

'I'm a chicken farmer and for years all of my hens were infertile, but today they are all laying fertilized eggs.'

'That's great!' said the woman, 'How did your chickens become fertile ?'

'I used a different cock,' he replied.

The woman smiled, clinked his glass and said, 'What a coincidence'.

(Now I think I've about mananged to insult most everybody, but have a great day anyhow!)

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Freedom is NORML

Despite indisputable scientific evidence that alcohol, tobacco, and prescription painkillers—all regulated and legal—are far more dangerous than marijuana to the health and well-being of society, marijuana is illegal. This double-standard is contributing to the pain and suffering of hundreds of thousands of individuals by denying them access to effective and safe treatment of their medical condition.
NORML=National Organization to Reform Marijuana Laws

See this design on T-shirts, Bags, Hats and other things

First U.S. Marijuana Cafe Opens for Business in Portland

By Tom Johansmeyer
Nov 15th 2009 at 10:15AM

Cancel your flight to Amsterdam – the U.S. just got its first marijuana cafe on Friday. Located in Portland, Ore., the Cannabis Cafe shows how attitudes have changed since the Obama administration moved into the White House. A month ago, President Barack Obama told federal attorneys to ease off medical marijuana prosecutions.

The widening use of medicinal marijuana has forced governments into a tenuous legal balancing act, according to a Reuters report. Some states passed legislation to allow it, starting with California in 1996. Nonetheless, a federal ban remains in place. The operation of businesses like the Cannabis Cafe, as well as marijuana establishments in California, has been possible as long as federal authorities have chosen not to pursue them. Unlike the shops in California, though, the Portland establishment is the first in the U.S. where certified medical marijuana users can both acquire and consume their marijuana, as long as they stay out of public view.

Madeline Martinez, executive director of the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws in Oregon, says that the Cannabis Club "represents personal freedom, finally, for our members." NORML supports legislation to legalize marijuana.

"Our plans go beyond serving food and marijuana," Martinez continues. "We hope to have classes, seminars, even a Cannabis Community College, based here to help people learn about growing and other uses for cannabis."

The Food is For Sale, but the Pot is Free

The Cannabis Cafe's new home is a two-story building with an interesting past. Once upon a time, it was occupied by a speakeasy, and later, an adult entertainment club called Rumpspankers. The Cannabis Cafe is a private club, but any Oregon resident who is a member of NORML and has an official medical marijuana card can gain entry.

Members pay $25 a month for use of the cafe, which has a capacity of 100. The product offered is not sold. Rather, it's provided free over the counter from the "budtenders" employed by the establishment. Food, of course, is available for purchase, but the club doesn't have a liquor license. (Why bother?)

The potential market for the Cannabis Cafe is small, but likely committed. Approximately 21,000 patients are registered to use medical marijuana in Oregon, with doctors prescribing the drug for a wide range of illnesses, among them Alzheimer's, diabetes, multiple sclerosis and Tourette's syndrome.

Eric Solomon, the proprietor, says he still just runs a coffee shop and events venue, as he did before he converted it to the current format, but he says, "now it will be cannabis-themed." Film festivals and dances are expected for the second floor ballroom, not to mentioned marijuana-themed weddings.

Neighboring businesses have mixed feelings about the new cafe, but they are hopeful that it will benefit them, too. David Bell, who works at a nearby boutique, is "withholding judgment." He notes, "There's no precedent for it. We don't know what to expect. But it would great if it brought some customers into our store."


I bet tourism to Portland just jumped by leaps and bounds!

For Piano Lovers Only

Another Message in a Bottle

Washed up Ashore, in a bottle from Gulfport, Mississippi:

Hi Miss Mermaid,
Thanks for being concerned about us here where Katrina hit.
Ida is making her presence known now with gusty winds and blowing rain.I
don't know how bad it is along the waterfront but I'm sure there's some
tidal fooding occuring.I'm about 5 miles inland and its stormy right
I trust you are doing well and that you are healthy now.Glad that the
Virgin Islands escaped any run-ins with the tropical systems this year.
Take care. :)


INCREDIBLE Mikey, Ida came to where I am holed up in South Carolina, dumping torrential icy cold rains on us with hugh gusty winds that sent the turning leaves on a wild roller coaster ride high above the garden.

By the way... nice web page!


What has 3 arms and 3 legs?

A couple of dancers, as shown here.

An incredible performance! Bravo!


Saturday, November 14, 2009

Follow Your Dreams!

I can do it! I can do it!

Some are dreamers and others are dreamers and doers. It's very hard to pursue a dream. If you share your dreams with the wrong individuals, they will shoot arrows and daggers and basically do most anything to convince you your dream is ridiculous and nothing more than idle thought.

So, if you REALLY want to follow your dreams, keep your mouth shut. If you think someone will be 99% positive, then take the risk, share your dream with them. They will hopefully be not only positive, but might even have creative ideas to make your dream a reality sooner, rather than later.

If you are dead wrong, and they start to shoot holes in your dream, then change the conversation and tell them no further. You don't need all that negativity dragging you down.

It's the claw.

Many folks simply cannot tolerate that anybody else could possibly do anything that they would like to do and for whatever reason can't or won't. So they attempt to hook their big claw into you, as they see you spiraling upwards, they do their best to drag you back down, where they feel you belong.

It's TRUE. Misery loves company.

Those unfortunate souls that can't or won't find their own happiness, often want you to be just as miserable as they are. How DARE you to be any happier.

Tsk Tsk Tsk.

I once dated someone quite wealthy. At first, I had no idea he was anything more than just a tourist, who wanted to learn to sail. He booked me and my boat and off we went for 3 days and 2 nights of sailing lessons around the Virgin Islands.

Suddenly, while teaching sailing, one on one, he either fell in love with my boat or sailing or me or all three. He wanted to sail off into sunset with me on my newly refitted sailboat. I had sweated and toiled for a few years to take this hurricane ravaged wreck and make her like new again. My work had paid off. I was plenty tired of working and more than ready to sail off into the sunset myself, and enjoy a cruising lifestyle.

But, at the time I was juggling several freelance jobs, as after spending a goodly sum on my boat, I didn't have a cruising kitty. So I was slogging away working, throwing money at the savings account, trying to get to where I could just take off for awhile.

Awhile to me was a few years, in case I liked cruising and I was pretty sure I would. Besides, you need a little pocket change when you have to re-enter the work force, until you get resettled.

We talked endlessly about taking off on my boat and cruising around the Caribbean. He wanted a budget, and when I laid out what I thought was a generous budget for two, he snorted and said, in a low voice "I make about that much per hour, when I work."

I jokingly said "Well,then if you have a week's pay set aside, we can go cruising for 3 or 4 years!"

He promised we would do just that.


One day soon.

But first he had to take care of loose ends with his career, and his property. I figured I had heard the last of him, and had merely enjoyed a fairy tale weekend that was not to be repeated.

He surprised me. He kept booking my boat and me for sailing lessons. Sometimes for a few days, sometimes for a whole week. We had a blast running around the Virgin Islands. Then at some point his visits became less frequent and he replaced this with numerous letters and cards.

Then cell phones appeared in the islands, and I immediately secured one and mailed him a letter with my new phone number.

He called one day and complained it was hard to hear me. I said "It's probably the wind, it's blowing about 35 knots and I'm sailing to Jost Van Dyke."

"You're sailing? Now? As we speak?"

"Yes, I put the cell phone in the cockpit before I set sail, and I'm sitting at the helm with the jib and main up, sailing for Goats Van Dyke."

I had now changed Jost to Goats, because he preferred calling Jost Van Dyke; Goats Van Dyke.

He burst out laughing and said he wished he was there.

The next time he called, I was sitting alone, at anchor in Cane Garden Bay. He asked what I was doing, and I told him I was sailing to Anegada and it was a broad reach with slight winds, just a lazy day of sailing in the sunshine. He was quite envious. In a few weeks,he flew in and off we went sailing.

He returned to work, thousands of miles away and kept on calling. If it was daylight in the Caribbean, I always professed to be sailing to somewhere. I think throughout his numerous phone calls and my little lies, we sailed by phone to every anchorage throughout the Virgin Islands. I thought he would jump on our dream sooner, rather than later. My cell phone at that time wouldn't extend beyong the Virgin Islands, so I kept my destinations to the local islands.

Once he called while I was working ashore and rather than admit I wasn't sailing, I told him it was blowing like stink and I had to tack the boat and couldn't talk right now, then quickly hung up. Another time the phone rang in a noisy bar and I told him the truth: that I had just anchored and come ashore for lunch. Sometimes he called while I was sailing but many times he called while I wasn't, so I just lied.

For the next seven years we kept up this charade until one day I called him up and said "You are never going to go cruising with me, are you. "

There was silence while he thought about it.

We often had these pregnant pauses in our conversation. So I waited in silence on the phone until finally he said, "Not now, but soon."

Soon, never happened. I knew when I hung up the phone that soon would never come. He was a dreamer. Safe in his dreams, he didn't have to step outside and do anything unsafe; such as follow his dreams.

We still stay in touch, strangely enough. We rarely ever see each other anymore, but whatever the initial attraction was, it's still there, it has never dissolved. We can talk on the phone for hours, but usually we are interrupted by his work.

I've often wondered, what could have been. But in the interim, I've lead an exciting life and moved forward with my own dreams, though oddly, I never did go long term cruising for years. I did fall into a compromise, that at the time, made me plenty happy and I still got to do loads of sailing and messing about in boats. Maybe I didn't work hard enough chasing my own dream, but I figure I just changed my dreams.

I am forever grateful, I spent many years at sea, even though I remained single and solo for much of it.

I've often wondered what could have been...

And I've never once fessed up to him, that on many phone calls, I wasn't sailing after all.

Do two wrongs make a right? Probably knot.

Heartbreaking Pain

One thing I have noticed, is that pain just eats away my life. Whole hours and days can vanish into never-never land when I am in pain.

Coming back to America, after 22 years in the Caribbean is such a culture shock. I might as well have sailed to Mars! Sure, I have visited here a few times, but not many, and not for long. All my adult life I have been self-employed or worked under contract for a given time or job. So, I am not accustomed to a steady regular annual vacation.

Many Americans living overseas make regular treks back to America or at least make the annual journey. I just never did that. I don't really like schedules much at all, preferring a great deal of latitude in timing. I find alarm clocks completely annoying and refuse to use one. I just tell my body what time I need to get up, and I generally try to get to bed i time to have enough sleep, so that I wake up at the appointed time, without the alarm clock.

I can easily destroy an alarm clock. I've noticed a few hotels have the annoying habit of giving you a wake up call, whether you want one or not! I find this very disturbing. I recently had to check into a motel. I became ill about 60 miles from my temporary home. I just could not make the hour in driving in my condition. It was dark and getting late, so sleeping in my car didn't seem like a good option, plus it was about 40 F degrees and I had only a borrowed jacket and no blankets with me. The nice motel that was advertising super cheap room rates on their changeable sign, of course had sold out of the cheap rooms and only had rooms that cost more than double. I think it was a bait and switch routine, as their parking lot was nearly empty. Maybe they only had one cheap room to sell and the rest were all more than double.

I ended up at what looked like an older motel that had a makeover, so I stopped their next and found the room rate to be quite reasonable. I should have asked to see the room first. Apparently they had fixed up the outside of the motel, with fresh paint and new door veneers. Walking into my room, it was clear he makeover stopped there. My room was tiny, about 8 by 8 feet, with a decrepit bathroom that was built in 1950 something. The room was frightfully cold and took about an hour to warm up. Although they has thrown in a microwave and refrigerator, that was the only thing in the room that wasn't circa 50's besides the small TV which didn't work until I reprogrammed it for them.

It looked like a crowd of drunks had a previously had a brawl in the room. The door was heavily mangled with clear evidence that the locks and safety chains had been ripped apart repeatedly. The door has patches on it and appeared to have been kicked a good bit. The toilet seat was held on by one screw, so if you weren't careful, you and the seat could slide right into the floor.

The built-in soap dishes that previously graced the tiles, looked like they had been smashed off with the force of a heavy mallet. The mirror backing was peeling off, and you cold only see a small part of your face in the center of the mirror.

The bed seemed to have fresh linens, but I've had fluffier pancakes than the pathetic pillows provided. The clock radio was bolted to the side table, as was the telephone, leaving virtually no room for anything else. Strangely, the room came with a nice chair that seemed clearly out of place, given the run down shape of the rest of the room. It has to be the most depressing motel I have ever been in. I was too tired to complain or try to find anything better, as I was in a very small town.

Once the heat warmed up, I kicked off my shoes and laid on top of the bedspread. I rolled up the borrow jacket, then placed the flat pillows on top of that. I chanted to myself until the pain went away as I drifted into deep heavy sleep.

Next thing I knew, the damn phone was ringing. I tried to ignore it but it just kept ringing endlessly. No one knew where I was, who on earth would be calling me? I tried to ignore it, but on about the 48th ring I finally picked it up and slammed it back down, without even speaking. I rolled over and fought with the jacket and pillows to get comfy again.

Incredibly, the phone started ringing again. I slammed it back down again, I just wanted to rest. But, unbelievably, the phone rang for the 3rd time. This time, clearly agitated, I picked up the phone ad quite uncharacteristically, I yelled "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

A voice with a thick accent informed me this was my wake up call. I said "I did NOT ask for a wakeup call!"

"But it time to check out or you must come pay for another night."

I said "It's only 9am!" as I eyed the bolted down alarm clock.

"Yes, but check-out is 11am and you must come pay for another night by 10am, if you wish to stay."

I think I answered obscenely with something like "Hell no!" and slammed the phone down again for good measure.

Clearly, this motel, was not expecting repeat business.

Back in July, I happened to stay in a very nice hotel, that happened to be nearly empty. Incredibly, they did the same, thing, only the call was automated. For some foolish reason, I then called the front desk, to tell them I had NOT asked for a wake up call and didn't appreciate getting one when I was dead tired and to please deactivate the thing. The desk clerk, basically went through a similar routine, that they gave everyone who didn't order a wakeup call, a complimentary wakeup call, so they could check out on time. I said "You've got to be kidding me! It's not even time for me to check out YET!"

He said he had to schedule his cleaning crew and it was imperative I check out on time. Before I could say anything, he hung up! I got up and threw open the curtains to allow some natural sunlight in the room. I could see, the parking lot in my section of rooms, was completely empty. When I left the hotel, I drove all around the parking lot. It had 2 cars in it, same as the night before, when I checked in and got lost trying to find my room.

I read bout the hotels and motels grumbling for business but I wonder why some don't improve their customer service and put an end to unsolicited wakeup calls.

Back to the pain, it;s subsided some now. Writing might be a pain relief...