Category Archives: Living in Florida

Lord of the Flies author loves Women: True!

Snopes Reports!

There is no doubt that Golding spoke these words, perhaps more than once.

A clip preserved on YouTube, in which Golding discusses the origins and meaning of Lord of the Flies, captures him making that pronouncement, specifically in answer to the question of why his dystopian novel featured boys rather than girls:

Girls say to me, very reasonably, ‘why isn’t it a bunch of girls? Why did you write this about a bunch of boys?’ Well, my reply is I was once a little boy — I have been a brother, a father, I am going to be a grandfather.

I have never been a sister, or a mother, or a grandmother. That’s one answer. Another answer is of course to say that if you, as it were, scaled down human beings, scaled down society, if you land with a group of little boys, they are more like a scaled-down version of society than a group of little girls would be.

Don’t ask me why, and this is a terrible thing to say because I’m going to be chased from hell to breakfast by all the women who talk about equality — this is nothing to do with equality at all.

I think women are foolish to pretend they are equal to men, they are far superior and always have been. But one thing you can’t do with them is take a bunch of them and boil them down, so to speak, into a set of little girls who would then become a kind of image of civilisation, of society. The other thing is &mdashl why aren’t they little boys AND little girls?

Well, if they’d been little boys and little girls, we being who we are, sex would have raised its lovely head, and I didn’t want this to be about sex.

Sex is too trivial a thing to get in with a story like this, which was about the problem of evil and the problem of how people are to live together in a society, not just as lovers or man and wife.

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Your Favorite Christmas Carol? Here’s Mine

Aloha   and 

Mele MELE Kalikimaka is the word to say
On a bright Hawaiian Christmas day
That’s the island greeting that we send to you
From the land where palm trees sway

Here we know that Christmas will be green and bright
The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night
Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii’s way
To say Merry Christmas to you

Mele Kalikimaka is the word to say
On a bright Hawaiian Christmas day
That’s the island greeting that we send to you
From the land where palm trees sway

Here we know that Christmas will be green and bright
The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night
Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii’s way
To say Merry Christmas to you

Here we know that Christmas will be green and bright
The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night
Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii’s way
To say Merry Christmas to you

Mele Kalikimaka is the word to say
On a bright Hawaiian Christmas day
That’s the island greeting that we send to you
From the land where palm trees sway

Here we know that Christmas will be green and bright
The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night
Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii’s way
To say Merry Christmas
A very Merry Christmas
A very, very, Merry,Merry Christmas to you

Songwriters
R. ALEX ANDERSON

Mele Kalikimaka (Hawaiian Christmas Song) – YouTube
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hEvGKUXW0iI

Moving out of state and together? At 50?

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Open Up Your Golden Gate….

To move in or not to move in: that was the question

Sherry (admits to “over 50”) and Claude (62) met online. They exchanged four e-mails, enjoyed two lengthy phone calls, and on the first date, both were very carefully falling in love.

They both like opera, Mountain Winery concerts, old San Francisco, traveling to Santa Fe for the opera, Carmel-by-the-Sea, Wine Tasting events, and visiting National Parks.  She likes fiction. He likes nonfiction.  He loves butter, cream, and eggs.  She’s more of an advocate for quinoa, vegetables, and exploring the aisles of Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods. He cooks – she prefers dining out.

They were around same age, had been through painful divorces, had launched their kids, were finishing up careers and both were seriously thinking about retirement. He has a condo in San Francisco on Nob Hill, a doorman, spectacular views of both bridges; rarely drives – walks everywhere, and knows San Francisco like the back of his hand. His office is one of the top floors of the towering Bank of America on California Street.

She lives in a tiny cottage in Redwood City- with a charming garden, a hot tub – there is no lawn to mow, no big home to maintain, just sunny weather, parking galore, and she has privacy, solitude, and a huge deck for entertaining –which she does with great frequency. She belongs to a book club, a Pilate’s class, and volunteers at film festivals and the Museum – he says she has ‘a Rolodex full of girlfriends.’

She works from home for three very delightful and demanding clients in Atherton.

A Moving Experience:  On their one-year anniversary, they drove north on Highway 101 to the Victorian village of Ferndale and explored the area and the beautiful redwood parks.  Over crab cocktails at VI Restaurant he suggested she move into his spacious condo in San Francisco.  He had a second bedroom that could easily be made into her office or study.  He listed the many positive aspects of living in San Francisco – such an exciting location and – more importantly- of living together. She was thinking of the whipping winds and fog rolling in, parking challenges, the din of the neighborhood, the claustrophobic feeling of being so close to your neighbors, no garden…her mental list of “cons” grew incrementally. She was very happy with their arrangement. They were together all weekend and one or two nights a week. Two of her 50-ish friends had ‘living situations’ with beaus – they kept separate residences and saw one another frequently. The couples said they embraced their privacy and alone time and claimed they were very happy with the arrangements. She pondered.

Moving in together and moving away?  Then his boss offered him a position in Miami, Florida as VP of his department.  The assignment would be for 18 months with the caveat that he would return to San Francisco six times a year for meetings. The offer was a promotion with great benefits – and would most likely be his last position with the company. Thrilled at the prospect, he called and invited her to join him on this new adventure. She had been to Florida several times and liked the beaches, Art Deco architecture and Cuban Food, As she started thinking about the humidity, the traffic, the density, the severe summer weather, and the distance from her family and her friends her mood changed. Her best friend said, “Go for it! It’s only for a year or so and you’ll come back here every few months. Just do it. Candace, her neighbor – an Eileen Fisher model, 65, tango dancer with a shock of silver hair said, “Men? I go dancing once a week.  I just want to be in the arms of a man for one hour –and then go home to my cats and I’m happy.”  Another cat woman?

She was dizzy with input from her myriad friends and her love for this man – who was kind, thoughtful and more spiritual than anyone she had ever met.

 Things fall into place Her best friend from Albuquerque took an artist in residence gig at the Oakland Museum and needed a place to stay – voila: the perfect house sitter. 

She told her clients of her plans. She heard a lot of “Oh! no! What will we do?” comments punctuated with hugs and “Please don’t go.” requests.  She had a best friends meeting and they balked at the news… They asked if she wasn’t  little too quick to make a decision of this  importance. Her “Besties” were friends for decades who knew Mr Right and had googled him diligently. They urged her to slow down…not to throw the baby out with the bathwater and go to FLorida to visit – not live. A Bi-coastal relationship would be the perfect test.

Testing 1,2,3,

After one exhausting visit to Miami and the environs – the traffic, the heat, the miles and miles of strip malls, the infamous Seniors – worst drivers in the state and alarming stories about alligators and high rate of crime was enough to have her go for the BiCoastal Route

She would remain in California and he would fly home every couple of weeks.

Time would test the strength of their relationship.

 

 

 

Millionaire Paul Ryan – angry at old people – to kill Medicare?

Psst…Paul Ryan – ain’t no altar boy.

Paul Ryan, 42, was born into one of the most prominent families in Janesville, Wis.     He is the son of a very successful attorney and the grandson of the top federal prosecutor for the western region of the state.

Ryan grew up in a expansive Colonial house on a large wooded lot, and his extended clan includes investment managers, corporate executives and owners of major construction companies.                                    

He lived a very comfortable life.

He is worth $7.6 million

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Is millionaire Paul Ryan is angry at his parents, grand parents

and his in-laws? Or, just all old people?

 

Paul Ryan, 42, was born into one of the most prominent families in Janesville, Wis.    

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In the year after his father’s death, Ryan’s grandmother set up the Ryan-Hutter Investment Partnership, with assets of up to half a million dollars, according to the congressman’s 2011 financial disclosure.

Ryan continues as the general partner running the entity for the family.

By the time Ryan had entered Congress in 1999 at the age of 28 and filed his first disclosure statement, he reported assets between $167,000 and $1.3 million, owned a home and had three rental units.

* 



articles.latimes.com › Collections › Paul Ryan

US Dollars Money Currency Economy Paper currency paper notes 100 dollars bundle

Esquire Magazine: Ryan Wealth http://www.esquire.com/news-politics/politics/a15319/paul-ryan-family-wealth-11644997/

Mr. Ryan reported two tax-deferred college savings plans, with a combined value of between $150,000 and $300,000.

He also reported two investment partnerships worth, in total, between $350,000 and $750,000, mostly containing shares of stock in well-known companies, including Apple, Goodrich, Kraft Foods, Visa and Whole Foods.

Both partnerships were formed by Mr. Ryan and other family members to manage assets left by his grandparents and an aunt.

Mrs. Ryan has reported receiving a trust after her mother died in 2010 that is valued between $1 million and $5 million, according to a letter Mr. Ryan filed with his latest financial disclosure.

Mrs. Ryan also has longstanding interests in several mining and oil exploration investments in Oklahoma and Texas managed by her father, Dan Little, a lawyer in Oklahoma whose clients include oil and gas companies.

Those investments generated as much as $150,000 in income last year.

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Of the Ryans’ maximum estimated assets of $7.6 million,

 

Janna’s holdings account for about $6.5 million.

She is the daughter of Dan and Prudence Little, two lawyers in Madill, Okla., who over the years have overseen a vast network of land and oil and gas mineral rights in the Red River area straddling southern Oklahoma and northern Texas.

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Seniors Retired after 50 yr careers Living on Social Security / Medicare…

Why is he so vindictive? Does he have a long list of “his parents didn’t buy him the bike he wanted, he got punished for bad grades, or he caught caught cheating and stealing from the collection basket?”

Paul Ryan is so out of touch.

He wants to delete Medicare.

Ryan can drop the altar boy facade. He  is a classic “Thou doth protest too much” attack dog politician with ulterior motives.

U.S. President-elect Donald Trump (L) meets with Speaker of the House Paul Ryan (R-WI) (C) and Vice-President elect Mike Pence on Capitol Hill in Washington, U.S., November 10, 2016. REUTERS/Joshua Roberts

Protest

Wacko woman in FL rants

Lizzie Porter (R)  – of Florida has an axe to grind…she has been known to be uncompromising  and belligerent.

votefraud

Lizzie

This Florida Lawmaker says,

We’ve been told to listen to children and do what they ask. Are there any children on this floor? Are they making laws? Do we allow children to tell us we should pass a law that says no homework? No. The adults make the laws.”

When do we drain the Swamp?

 

 

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via Daily Prompt: Uncompromising

Is Harold really God’s gift to women?

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Whether it is bluff or bravado, Bachelor (again) and bon vivant, Harold H. quickly dismisses his three divorces, and announces he’s looking for a  woman who understands him.  

He is the kind a man  who measures success by the size of a wallet and bank account. Both of his are substantial. What he is lacking are social graces, compassion, and sensitivity. Some have compared him to the proverbial bull in a China shop. He is simply clueless as to the number people he alienates with his brash bragging.

Mind you, there are plenty of women who are attracted to him and his wealth  like a fly to honey. Harold H. will tell you, quite frankly, he’s looking for a “type.” He only dates tall,  blondes, generally 20 years his junior. His first three wives were petite, Mediterranean, homemaker types.

He thought he had a gold mine when he met Trixie- she was from Texas, was bold and brassy and seem to find old Harold H attractive. She loved to go to expensive restaurants, she knew how to feign interest to a man who was wining and dining her- especially when there was a potential for gifts in little blue boxes.

Trixie could drink most men under the table (years of practice) and she had a “frisky” side the Harold H found very attractive. Each week, he surprised Trixie with a piece of jewelry. He knew for a fact that most women faint over gifts from the jewelry store. His relationship with Trixie buoyed his confidence. People stopped and stared when they walked down the street or walked into restaurants. He liked that.

What Harold H never expected was that Trixie’s old boyfriend would reappear and she would drop him like a hot potato.

Trixie called him to say was going to return her jewelry drawer full of trinkets from Harold H- he said, “Hey, babe, fuhgeddaboudit!” He closed the Trixie chapter and was back on the Union Street prowl that night. 

Next!

 

 

 

 

 

via Daily Prompt: Present

Late to the party, you lose,

There is an unspoken rule in my trendy neighborhood: your must arrive before 8:00am to score a table at Peet’s, Starbuck’s or the trendy, French bistro Pan Pain.

We have coffee shops galore in the’hood – but there is no where to sit  after a certain hour. Everyone scoots into a table, inserts ear buds or Bose, plugs in their laptop and – in a very territorial way – starts clicking away. No lie, yesterday, I heard a woman answer her phone, “Law Offices.” Then she announced, he was “Not in” she offered to take a message. 

 

This gives a new meaning to play on words: Nomad is an island…

 

After a dreadful night of non-sleep, I zombie-walked over to Peet’s- looking for the I.V. Hook Up of double lattes for a caffeine boost.  The joint was full of “This is my office – Back Off!” peeps. There was an Apple Army of them- all in regulation vintage T-shirts, ripped jeans, and expensive shoes. 

 

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All I wanted was “My Coffee,” get very caffeinated and feel the barnicles of no sleep fall from my body.

There wasn’t a bench a chair, a stool, or single spot available. Now I could have wedged myself between two anti-social clickers madly attacking their keyboards – the cacaphony would have killed me.

So once again, late to the game, no room at the inn, I got my Super-cuppa-to-go and roamed the streets. C’est la guerre.

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via Daily Prompt: Tardy