Monday, 28 September 2009

Quit Bugging Me

I always considered myself not the most emulate cleaner.

I have seen worse.

I have also seen more women who have dedicated their life to the fight of filth.

I have nothing against them. My mother was one of them. I also seen too many hours waisted on trying to have the spotless house at all times. Time we could have gone out to play, we could have gone to the local harvest fair, or just down to the beach, but the house was not clean enough for her.

She would have been disgusted if she lived long enough to see me now.

It was actually her death at what I considered a relatively young age, 57, that woke me up that maybe I should spend what little time I have left enjoying life. Since cleaning did not give me pleasure in anyway but I don't like a smelly sink nor bugs, I do it begrudgingly but only at a minimum.

Oh, and there is that habit she hated: I throw almost nothing away.

Collections of papers from important days in my life. I am glad to say those are a bit out of control. Mental note, let's change it to taking out a clipping with the date, the most interesting story in each paper to represent these days of my life. I can do that on a rainy day where I have nothing else to do. Honestly I have said this to myself for years. I should explain in southern California there are very little rainy days. I spend most of them cleaning house, which leaves little times for my important day clippings scrap book. Always on a back burner, as they say. I will get to it , maybe when I move to Washington. I understand it rains quite a bit up there.

Well my collections are more than that, there are the frogs. I miss the rain and the frogs I used to chase as a child in the south. There was a lot more rain there too, but I am not moving back. But it is funny when you collect things like frogs, or pigs, or angels or even Disney memorabilia, every one you know gives you one for your birthday or Christmas or when ever. You get over run with them. It is no longer your collection. They wanted to be special. So you keep them. You would hate for them to come over and know you got ride of their frog and therefor getting ride of your connection to them. I have kept them all. Even from the people who are no longer in my life and the only good memory of them is their frog. I keep them.

I had a book case full of them. But that got over run quickly. When my daughter opened her wings and flew away I made her room the frog room. She came back once, she was upset that everything was not how she left it. I told her it was unrealistic to believe that time stops for those you leave behind. She said she understood that part but she thought it should have taken more than a day to do it. I do remember it rained the day she left.

That was my last big rainy day projects.

Where was I going with this? Yes. I wanted to explain I am not a messy person who keeps plates of food all over the house or cat messes on my floor. The box never smells for long. The first whiff and I change the box. My little furry children want for nothing. I have two. One white, Sol, and one black, Luna. I have a blog about them with pictures and videos. I photos shop the clutter out of the background. I find people can be so judgemental on line. They remind me of my mother. If my mother had the Internet she would have been one of the women, when not cleaning on line. When not on line cooking and cleaning. None of them leaving there house for anything but church and food shopping. All other shopping are done on line. That reminds me I have to track that package from Amazon, I think they delivered it to the people across the street, again. They keep telling me to walk over and ask for it back. I keep trying to explain across the street is a meth house. Some people are just that safe to knock on the door and asking for entry. I wonder if they have meth houses in India? Maybe next time I should say they are gang lords or terrorist. No, than I would sound crazy, maybe I do already.

Back on track. So the other day I came home from my daily stroll around the neighbourhood and say hundreds of flies. House flies, not those pesky fruit flies. I had a melt down moment. I shut the door. I hurried to the hardware store and bought 2 packages of the fly strips. 6 should be enough. I went back in, opened the fly-strip , put one over the sink. But that wasn't doing much. SO I opened one up and just swung it around. I was a fly hunter. So proud I caught 47. Yes I counted. I threw that strip away and repeated my actions. Hunting them with the flypaper roll. One more filled and tossed I opened another and left it on the light. Darkness had come and I tired. I had got the majority and they were all centralized to the kitchen. I am safe for now. I left the light on to attract them to the fly paper. I will deal with this tomorrow I told myself as I went to bed.

The next morning I woke and decide to get to the bottom of this. I made sure the sinks were spotless. I did find a maggot or two. I little freak moment but boiling hot water would kill anything squirming there. This must be the source. Some food they could digest I forget to clean for a few days. There are but 3 flies buzzing around. It is quite normal for any house. By night time and after my evening stroll there was hundreds again.

I shut the door and repeated my trek to the hardware store for fly strips. I repeated my massacre of flied from the night before. I bought a flyswatter this time too... fly paper roll in one hand swatter in the other. I was a sight in my house coat, I caught the sight reflected in the window. I laughed to myself. What a crazy lady my neighbours must think I am, now would be the best time to get my Amazon package back from the meth lab across the street. They wouldn't deny a crazy old lady with a flyswatter.

I got most of them, replaced the old ones that were full above the sink and on the light. I boiled water and put it down both drains.

Now this was driving me nuts. Where could they be coming from. As I thought about this looking at my ceiling in bed ans noticed a maggot on my ceiling! Smush. I looked around and saw 3 more on my walls. Now I am grossed out. This has gone beyond an annoyance. Have I gotten more filthy than I allowed myself to believe. I smell for a dead mouse my furry children might have left. You can usually smell those. No, no smells out of the ordinary.

Maybe food got some where at night. I will have to do a more intense cleaning. tomorrow.

Next morning I woke. By the time of my stroll I had cleaned my kitchen spotless. every piece of food from the fridge that was even going to turn soon got thrown out. There. Now there is no food that could attract them. This should do it. After my walk I was horrified to see a clean kitchen with hundreds of flies. Got more filmstrips from the hardware store, I am now telling them I live on a farm and have horses. I get 5 packages this time.

I repeat the killing spree and hope this was just fies laying in wait from something I already got rid of and this was it. As I go to sleep that night I see more maggots. Squish squish squish. I will clean my dinning room tomorrow.

As they say on the shampoo bottle, rinse and repeat. I cleaned the dinning room spotless, with the same result after my evening stroll. Tomorrow the living room.

Squish squish squish.

Waking I decided that is it! I tackle my papers of important days. I get every dust bunny. It is spotless, even polished. My mother would be proud!

Evening stroll time. I open the door with caution and there they are gain. AHHHHHHH!

I repeat... I have enough strips for a few more days of this before I have to go back and talk about my horse Sol and Luna. Squish squish squish.


I sleep.

I wake up and tackle the bathroom and frog room. Now all but one room is spotless. The house looks almost as clean as when I moved in.

Evening stroll time. I close my eyes as I walk in. I sigh as I open them. Yup, they are back. I have now killed about a thousand of them. This is not possible. There is only one room left. The room I have been squishing the maggots in, it must be there. Something Luna or Sol killed. Squish squish squish. I will deal with this tomorrow.

I woke up and got right to it. I must say my room is the messiest. it is the only place no-one but me sees. It has not seen a broom in a long time. I clean and clean. I was the walls. I finally go on my nightly walk. And come back to the same. I don't get this. I will have to call a bug person. At least my house is clean enough to have them in.

Squish squish squish. The only thing I haven't done is move my bed. I did sweep the broom under, as the bed is very heavy for me. It used to not be as heavy for me, but I am older now. Tomorrow I will take the bed apart,that must be were what ever the cats killed is.

The next morning after breakfast I get to work striping the bed and inspecting and vacuuming the mattress as I move everything. Just in case, as disgusting as the thought is something crawled up and died in my mattresses. Nothing in the mattresses and box spring. It must be in the far corner under the bed.

As I move the box spring off the frame and place it along side the mattress I am taken aback. I gasp. I bump into someone as I step back.

"How else was I going to get you to clean this mess?"

I turn around to see my mother.

"I would have no daughter of mine be found in a messy house!"

I look back under the bed and see myself with maggots coming our of my nose and mouth. "How did I die?"

" It doesn't matter, you are dead and your house is clean and your daughter need not be embarrassed. That is all that matters." My mother said. "Do you want to stick around for the funeral or leave now?"

Sunday, 28 June 2009

musical biscuit

SKA

Ska (pronounced /ˈskɑː/, Jamaican [skja]) is a music genre that originated in Jamaica in the late 1950s, and was the precursor to rocksteady and reggae.[1] Ska combined elements of Caribbean mento and calypso with American jazz and rhythm and blues. It is characterized by a walking bass line accented with rhythms on the offbeat.

Music historians typically divide the history of ska into three periods: the original Jamaican scene of the 1960s (First Wave), the English 2 Tone ska revival of the late 1970s (Second Wave) and the third wave ska movement, which started in the 1980s (Third Wave).
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I can think of soemthing else ,other than rowing those rude boys are doing.

Rude boy, rudeboy, rudie, rudi or rudy were common terms for juvenile delinquents and criminals in 1960s Jamaica, and have since been used in other contexts.[1][2] During the late-1970s 2 Tone ska revival in England, the terms rude boy, rude girl and other variations were often used to describe fans of that genre, and this new definition continued to be used in the third wave ska subculture. In the United Kingdom in the 2000s, the terms rude boy and rude girl have become slang which mainly refer to people (largely youths) who are involved in street culture, similar to Gangsta or Badman.



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The first rude boys in the 1960s were associated with the poorer sections of Kingston, Jamaica, where ska, then rocksteady were the most popular forms of music. They dressed in the latest fashions at dancehalls and on the streets. Many of these rude boys started wearing sharp suits, thin ties, and pork pie or Trilby hats; inspired by United States gangster movies, jazz musicians and soul music artists. In that time period, disaffected unemployed Jamaican youths sometimes found temporary employment from sound system operators to disrupt competitors' dances (leading to the term dancehall crasher). This — and other street violence — became an integral part of the rude boy lifestyle, and gave rise to a culture of political gang violence in Jamaica. As the Jamaican diaspora grew in the United Kingdom during the 1960s, rude boy music and fashion, as well as the gang mentality, became a strong influence on the skinhead subculture





Skinheads, originally, come out of the same *working class* culture
as ska. Just look at early Sixties pictures of Bob Marley, Peter Tosh
and Bunny Wailer -- they have no hair! Skinhead culture spread more
widely in the late Sixties as more and more Jamaicans went to the UK
and influenced the White youth culture there. These old UK bald-heads
were rude boys. Yesterday's and today's skinhead fashion has a legacy
from Black Jamaica. Since the first skinheads were trying to look like
shave-head rude boys, it makes all those Nazi skinhead types seem pretty
ignorant, eh? It's a good thing they are in the minority.