Dad was a ghost, my friend was Wolverine and these memories will surely haunt my dreams

I saw Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope (the original Star Wars movie, for those unaware (Dude. Do you even Star Wars?!?) ) in the theater with my father.

I was 5 years old and I fell asleep. I remember crying the next day when I woke up…I was upset about not even making it halfway through the movie. But my dad took me again to see it and that was a big deal. A really big deal! Trips to the theater weren’t common and going to see a movie twice wasn’t an option I knew existed. Going alone with my father was unheard of and I only remember doing it one other time in my life and that was to see this gem. All I remember about THAT experience was thinking “this definitely wasn’t worth the popcorn!” and wishing I would fall asleep.

Sitting in the theater, watching Star Wars, I asked my dad “who’s the bad guy?” and if we’d seen him yet. This was a common question from me…there was always a “good guy” and a “bad guy” in the movies I watched with my father (and in John Wayne movies there was what would become my favorite type of hero, the chaotic good “Bad Good Guy”) and I was always worried I had missed something in a movie. I clearly remember him whispering “You’ll know him when you see him, Kiddo…” with a touch of excitement in his voice and DAMN if he wasn’t right!

Thirty-five years later I watched my own children’s faces when Darth Vader made his first appearance and I was thrilled at the wonder and fear I saw there, knowing that three little hearts and heads were hooked, just as I had been. In that moment, as a parent, I felt more connected to my father than I ever had before despite him not being in my life for 24 years by that time.

I saw The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi in the theaters as well, with both my parents and all (or most) of my siblings. At the time, the excitement of seeing the continuation of the story on a big screen while we were on vacation was also a big deal. I felt part of something big and just genuinely happy.

Through the years, the memories of those experiences became more cherished and valuable…that nostalgic air creeping in, tinting those finite experiences with a bittersweet pall, realizing just how lucky I was to have had no idea what lay ahead. I had the freedom to enjoy those moments without weight in my heart and not a care in the world. Hindsight gives those memories more importance than they would have garnered on their own, but being aware of that doesn’t lessen the impact.

As I grew up the reasons I loved Star Wars changed…developed, matured and deepened, it is a deeply rooted emotional thing for me, but the foundation of that love would always be a simple memory of sharing something with my father that could have been mundane and forgettable but wasn’t.

-Rainy day slacking ❤


(And can I just say how amazing a thing the internet is?? For years I have tried to remember what the hell that crappy other movie I saw with my dad was…I only remembered that it had something to do with Noah, but was an archeology movie and not religious, had a lot of boring (to a kid) talking and desert…less than two minutes on Google and I was not only able to find out the name, but was able to see footage and finally understand why my father wanted to see that movie. The man loved B movies, thematic cheese, and nothing piqued his interest more than a good conspiracy theory…The Search For Noah’s Ark probably satisfied all of those interests for him. I’m going to watch the movie again…hopefully it won’t inspire another post 😉 )


From Another Galaxy My Heart’s At Zero Gravity

I am a fan of Star Wars.

There. I admitted it. For the few of you who know me personally, that statement is probably accompanied by an exasperated sigh and possibly a mumbled “We GET it. Star Wars is your thing. Let it GO already!” But for the rest of my Frazzled Followers  (<3) I don't believe I've made that fact known, so it's a necessary preface for what I'm about to delve into. So, me? Star Wars. Big time. Take my word for it.


I’ve never really written about Star Wars before. Not here. Not anywhere other than on Twitter and Facebook and that has just been professions of love and funny meme sharing. I’m pretty sure the only mention of Star Wars I’ve made here is using some of the quotes in my lovely post about using movie quotes to express my feelings and that time I wrote about the first time anyone called me “Sith”


I didn’t purposely omit Start Wars from my blog conversations, it just happened. Mainly because I’ve never felt knowledgeable enough to write commentary on the subject, there is an internet full of nerds who do so and they are way more qualified than I (please, before the hate mail starts flowing in, know that I think nerds are mad sexy!)


The absence of Star Wars on this egotistical homage to myself I call a blog is changing. Right now. I’ve been writing again. A lot. And while everything is ending up in my Draft/Trash folder, Star Wars seems to be a recurring theme, so I’m going to stop fighting it and run with it.


I’ve been quite honest about the reasons I write and made it painfully clear in my Bastards post that it’s just my thing. I’m happier when I’m writing and I’m all out of balance when I’m not.

So, Frazzled Followers (<3), this post marks the beginning of a new era. Star Wars. It's a thing. And I'm going to put my own spin on it…because, that's just the way I do things and I'm the boss here 😘


Stay tuned…

-Still slacking, but with a goal this time 😉

All The Leaves Are Brown, And The Sky Is Gray

It’s that time of year again! As of 2 am this morning, this is my most popular post…my fall garland has been competing with my Badass Pumpkin Topiary and I’ haven’t made something new in months! That’s not actually true, but I haven’t made anything that inspired me to blog about it. You know how it is…slacker. And I’m ok with that! In any case, I’m enjoying the Autumn season more than I have in recent years and I’m reblogging this deco mesh garland because I’m putting it out on my porch today. I’m amazed by just how popular it has been…thank you!
-Forever slacking ❤

The Frazzled Slacker



Not entirely true, but enough so that my mind is fully on Autumn.

And with thoughts of Autumn, I tend to go through the house like a mad woman putting amber hues everywhere I can.

This year I’m hitting my new front porch and I wanted something I’ve been seeing everywhere online but have yet to see anywhere local. Door Garlands.

Yes, I know, I’m not your typical door garland-y type, but now that I have a door people actually SEE I felt like doing something new.

This post isn’t so much a DIY tutorial as it is a LOOK WHAT I MADE, MA! Mainly because there are so many tutorials out there that are fantastic (wouldn’t this be a great place to post links to aforementioned tutorial blogs? Sorry, my bad), I really don’t have anything new to add to the conversation, other than this: THIS WAS SO EASY!!

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And The White Knight Is Talking Backwards

Stream of consciousness. For those who don’t know what that is, reliable old Merriam-Webster defines it as:

“the continuous unedited chronological flow of conscious experience through the mind”

THAT’S the shit right THERE!

I’m of the belief that every action the mind seeks out beyond meeting basic needs is with the goal of hitting Stream of Consciousness. Unconsciously, of course 😉

Drugs. Sex. Religious pursuits. Adrenaline fueled/inducing acts of daring. All things that aim to “connect” a person with something greater than the self they sit with day in and day out. The things humans seek out in an effort to “feel alive”, all have the ability to bring a person closer to clearer, higher level, thinking. The higher the level of thinking, the more fluid the stream of consciousness. Or so I like to think.

What I find perplexing is that so many people shy away from their own unconscious thoughts. Even if they pursue enlightenment through activities intended to bring them closer to their true selves. We all try so hard to be in control of every aspect of our existence, to speak and think clearly and make sure that our thoughts and words never offend anyone that we often push away free-flowing thought and in effect, genuine emotion.



Some people over-correct and become brash “I tell it like it IS! I say what I WANT and fuck y’all Sheep that get offended! Wooooohoooo!” versions of themselves in an effort to sit honestly with their truth. This often rears itself as a stereotype-bashing rant that edges (if not dives head first) right into the pool of ignorance.


Each of those leanings seem in direct juxtaposition to anything even remotely “higher level”.


I wonder if the Awkward Folks of our world might be closer to true enlightenment of self. Perhaps those among us that can have a thought and let it out into the world without prettying it up for popular consumption, despite feeling vulnerable and uneasy at doing so, without attaching it to a “position”, maybe they’re onto something.

Maybe, blathering on about an idea or feeling without questioning why it exists is a much needed boost to our existence rather than a detriment. Maybe conversational trips down rabbit holes should be viewed as welcome respite rather than killers of our overly -metered time.


Maybe I’m just creating a theory to shore up my reality and I’m tired of making excuses for how my mind and mouth works. Maybe I’m exhausted from trying to cull my thoughts to the limiting confines of social acceptability. Maybe I dig talking/writing in a way that doesn’t have a defined agenda and maybe I enjoy taking the trip and viewing the unexpected scenery it affords me.


And maybe I’m an egotistical asshole who is more concerned with entertaining herself than anyone else.


And maybe, just maybe, even though I know I’m supposed to (and often do) apologize for the winding path I take to a point, I like it that way.


-Slacker? Yes.

My Silver Lining

I’ve never done this before, but I’ve been mentally blocked up and need to get things rolling again. I haven’t put anything out here this year. At all. You know this, Frazzled Followers (even after 3 years it still feels strange to be able to say I have “followers”…thank you for that! <3) and we've all seen others writing projects fall by the wayside like so much roadkill, but I'm trying to rally.

So, something different. This song. I heard it a few months back and for the first time in a very long time, I identified with a piece of music on multiple levels. It keeps coming up and it keeps feeling spot on. I'm not going to try to nail down why, because we all know what a rambling trip down the rabbit hole THAT can be and I’m just not ready for that. I feel like it says things I've been thinking and if I wasn't such a slacker and had a personal mission statement, I'd probably STILL be a slacker and just adopt these lyrics as mine.

-still slacking (Sort of.)

My Silver Lining
By First Aid Kit

I don't want to wait anymore I'm tired of looking for answers
Take me some place where there's music and there's laughter
I don't know if I'm scared of dying but I'm scared of living too fast, too slow
Regret, remorse, hold on, oh no I've got to go
There's no starting over, no new beginnings, time races on
And you've just gotta keep on keeping on
Gotta keep on going, looking straight out on the road
Can't worry 'bout what's behind you or what's coming for you further up the road
I try not to hold on to what is gone, I try to do right what is wrong
I try to keep on keeping on
Yeah I just keep on keeping on

I hear a voice calling
Calling out for me
These shackles I've made in an attempt to be free
Be it for reason, be it for love
I won't take the easy road

I've woken up in a hotel room, my worries as big as the moon
Having no idea who or what or where I am
Something good comes with the bad
A song's never just sad
There's hope, there's a silver lining
Show me my silver lining
Show me my silver lining

I hear a voice calling
Calling out for me
These shackles I've made in an attempt to be free
Be it for reason, be it for love
I won't take the easy road

I won't take the easy road
The easy road, the easy road

I won't take the easy road
The easy road, the easy road

Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on
Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on
Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on
Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on

Whether You Sparkle or Bling, Don’t Matter it’s the Same Thing (no, really, it’s the same thing!)

You’d think after 2 years and being pinned 3659 times on Pinterest (!!!!) I’d be used to the popularity of my Badass Pumpkin Topiary (yep, that’s the official name. I make the rules up in here. Deal. With. It.) but no, it still surprises me that year round this thing is garnering attention.


I reposted this one year ago today on a whim and got great feedback from people who had made one (or two! Go G.L.P, you impress me, big time!) So I’ve decided to make 7/27 “Badass Pumpkin Topiary Day” (anyone from back in the day catch the significance of those numbers? Yeah, look at me tossing in an Easter egg! It was purely coincidental last year, but now that I know, I’m owning it! ).

Yeah, it’s a repost, and yeah, that’s lame because I’m only as good as the last big thing I’ve done, but I’m cool with that. Because not everyone can do badass AND awesome. And this thing? Right here? It’s both. We all know it. (and I’m a slacker, but that’s besides the point 😉 )

-Slack 🙂

I’ve Got Friends In All The Right Places

A few months back I was feeling butt-hurt because a friend from way back had pushed their way back into my life, made themselves comfortable and then with no warning or explanation, decided to vacate just as abruptly in a very douchey manner.

I beat myself up over it. I took it very personally. I was so mad at myself for believing in them, someone notorious for their vices and success at conning everyone around them, for lending an ear and shoulder, for getting involved. I was pissed at myself for being wrong about them. I felt like a sucker. I was mad that I wasn’t strong enough to instantly feel indifference for them. I felt weak and that never sits well with me.

While writing always helps me deal, I’ve hesitated to write about what I was going through because I’ve had way too much venom in my fingertips to do anything but berate them for their flaws. While I do so enjoy a good evisceration (I really, really do!), I couldn’t allow myself a public outlet because at one time that person was the closest friend I had.

It’s taken me a long time to get to the point where I don’t feel anger or hurt when I think of them and I feel comfortable writing because I’ve done my contemplation and moved on, made new mistakes and even made a few new friends. I’d love to say I don’t feel anything, but I have this stupid honesty thing going on that prevents me from saying that. I do feel something when I think of them. I feel pity. I feel sad for them and that’s as close to nothingness as I’ll ever come because they’ve been part of my heart.

I’m not angry at myself anymore, after thinking about it for some time, I’ve come to realize that my hurt feelings don’t make me weak. The pain I felt wasn’t a result of some flaw I possess. The paltry dishonest reasons that were delivered to me at a later date weren’t a reflection on who I am. Every single action, every turn of phrase, was a view into the cowardice that resides in a terrified soul who feels they can “fake it until they make it”. Hoping that in some small way, by telling me what they thought I wanted to hear, they could keep the facade up.

Until the very end, I simply accepted every lie they dished out, allowing them to forgive themselves for being an asshat. With experience, and dare I say, age, I’ve realized there’s no glory in calling bullshit on a bullshitter. I knew the bravado was false and some actions were motivated by pure selfishness. I knew their bucket was not just riddled with holes, but rotted through in parts.

I also knew that letting them think I believed everything, showing them that someone trusted them and still cared for them despite their inherent need to behave so dishonorably could help them. I knew that sometimes it only takes one person to believe in you for you to change your life. Offering that up to someone who needs it so desperately wasn’t a mistake.

I also know that it’s a tremendous amount of pressure, having someone believe in you. I know how easy it is to stay the same because changing is so damn hard. I know all of that and can understand, even if I don’t respect it.

Now, with many months of perspective on my side, I am able to see those aren’t weaknesses. I’m not a fool for believing in a friend when they needed it. My ego can survive being tossed aside, I’ve got good friends and they are there for me through everything a friend is needed for. I’ll certainly survive without a faux friend and I’ve realized that what I thought made me weak was actually my greatest strength.

My heart being open enough to be hurt isn’t a negative. It’s the most important positive I have. I won’t close myself off because of this and I don’t feel defeated. My success in my eyes is measured by how much I can care, how much I can love the people in my life, and how much I still want to. That part of me hasn’t changed at all. I won’t say I will be more careful about who I let close to me. And I won’t say I’ll try harder next time to prevent getting hurt.
And I’m ok with that, Frazzled Followers, because in the span of time, in this broken world, I think that being open to real and truth, even if it kicks you in the face, is all that really matters.

-Happily Slacking Through 2014 ❤

Shared from WordPress

Frazzled Followers, I’ve been out of commission for months. Please pretend my excuses are as eloquent as Bob’s Over at My Not So Humble Opinion and refrain from picturing me spending my time wearing string-tie bell-bottom butterfly-covered sweats and a Penn State sweatshirt, sitting on pillows on the floor, eating Cocoa Pebbles and Cheez Doodles in the interim. Please also count this against my quota (even when we all know this is “phoning it in”). I miss you all…for real ❤

But I ain’t turning back to living that old life no more


Does anyone else have a “Happy Song”? You know, the song that instantly makes you feel good? I have one that is extra special, more so than all the other songs that bring about good feelings for me because it instantly relaxes me. It can pull me out of my deep-thinking, OCD-esque, worry place like nothing else in the world.

It is the first song I ever called “My Happy Song”. I love it especially so because it isn’t necessarily associated with a person, place, or even time in my life, the way most other favorite songs are. No bittersweet sentimentality. No sappy heart string tugs, just a song that became my little mental vacation.

I remember the EXACT moment my happy song came into my life. I was sitting in a nice bar with my Favorite Frazzled Friend, as we often did. On this particular night it was too cold to sit outside. No matter where we went, “Outside” was our preferred location. Outside is where we would sip and smoke and have deep conversations about seemingly topical philosophical  concepts, music, books, and ideas.

We would regale each other with tales of our various youthful exploits, so different in nature; mine meandering across different states of stark contrast, his charmingly all-American (to me, at least), filled with envious stability and Left Coast.

Our conversations, while seemingly better fitted for wing-back chairs alongside a fire in a study filled with books, were perfectly comfortable no matter the setting. I would point out how pompous we were, friendly to all, but often feeling slightly superior, enjoying the mental flexing we afforded each other, making jokes about Sherlock Holmes pipes and elbow patches.

They were good times, there was a little bit of kismet at work in our friendship developing and we were aware enough to value it.

So inside we sat on that night, past the whiteboard sign that extolled “PLEASE SEAT YOURSELF!” (on which I never failed to erase the second “S” in a faux ironic juvenile fit), bemoaning the uncharacteristic crowded room and subpar band playing 38 Special songs. The guitarist trying to emulate Stevie Ray Vaughn. Poorly. Ever so poorly.

We grabbed a table and tried to talk but the music was loud and loud doesn’t work for deep. We ruminated over the contrast in population compared to any other given night. We had grown accustomed to being the only patrons and had, as a result, developed something of an ominous belief that we were the kiss of death upon places serving libations. Our regular presence seemed the precursor to businesses shuttering their windows and heading for more prosperous ventures. That is laughable, but not untrue.

Our friendship started at a successful wine bar that was perfectly located between our homes. The night we wandered in for the first time, the owner had placed a sign on the bar informing the wine-seeking world they had exactly 3 days to enjoy the locale for they were going out of business.

From that point on, we had been party to no less than 5 other favored establishments closing down. The one we sat in, our favorite, even if only by default, was on it’s 2nd owner and 3rd reincarnation in just the few short weeks we had been frequenting it.

In retrospect I believe this all bespoke of the economy and it’s decline rather than our personal effect, but one can never be too certain about such questionable outcomes.

So that night, we despised the crowd but felt it was good for the place and we tried to tough it out. We lasted about 20 minutes before deciding to head elsewhere for more peaceful, befitting surroundings. As we readied to leave, Favorite Frazzled Friend looked up in surprise and said “I know this song!”

While a statement such as that from FFF wasn’t shocking in and of itself; he possessed a tremendous varied musical knowledge, it was that statement combined with the fact that I personally did not know the song that brought surprise to both our faces. Not even vaguely did I recognize any part of the song. And then we left.

A few nights later we sat on my front porch. The weather was much warmer and we marveled over what we both concurred is the beauty of a Central Carolina winter: No matter what weather you were experiencing, it wouldn’t last longer than a few days, no weather ever became unbearable.

So we sat and enjoyed the agreeable temps, drinks in hand, ideas in head but no conversation at the ready. Amongst Favorite Frazzled Friend’s many skills my favorite has always been his keen ability to determine exactly what any given situation needs. This night he declared it was music. In all fairness, music was his go to, but it was the type of music he picked for each situation that truly showcased his talent.

After a quick and rousing round of Name That Tune (where I kicked ass, as is the norm 😉 ) he put on a song that instantly seemed familiar yet I honestly didn’t know. It seemed almost sad, yet promising and true. It was mellow and relaxing but fun and engaging, telling a story through lyrics but also in melody. I loved it instantly.

He reminded me that it was “that song from that night at that place” and I knew exactly what he was talking about. We so enjoyed utilizing our SAT-ready vocabularies, one-upping each other and pseudo showing off, that the beauty of our best conversations came from pure laziness and understanding with minimal descriptives in a way only good friends can do well. He told me the title and the band name and I promptly forgot.

For the first few months I forgot the song even existed. I would be pleasantly surprised and fall in love with it all over again when Favorite Frazzled Friend would put it on at just the right moment, when I was feeling meh or inching into melancholy or just needed to chill.

For quite some time I would never remember the name or the band but could remember enough to request “That song that makes me happy”. And in the way only a great friend can do, Favorite Frazzled Friend knew exactly what I was talking about and had it at the ready.

Eventually I knew the song name, knew the band, downloaded the song, and shoved it down the throats and ears of everyone around me. It took on a life of its own as my go-to song and never failed to bring a smile.

Now, 4 years later, I’ve heard the song 100’s of time, witnessed it covered (and butchered) and found that I may have been the only person in these parts who wasn’t familiar with the song for years before (blame my Northern roots, it’s a bluegrass song about North Carolina) but my happiness quotient was never diminished. I still love the song and never tire of singing along to it, I automatically smile when I hear the intro.

While I do, from time to time such as this, fondly remember who and how the song was introduced to me, it isn’t a song that specifically reminds me of our friendship or even that time in my life. Our friendship has endured and grown through the years, maturing, as all successful friendships must and has many a song firmly bookmarking each stage.

This song, while a big part of my life, serves only as a small reminder to the highbrow vice-fueled minutes we shared in the span of our friendship. It doesn’t really remind me of anything other than being able to let go for a few minutes, forget responsibilities and just get lost in the moment of music.

That’s why, above any other piece of music, no matter how poignant, it’s “My Happy Song”.

-Forever Slacking 😉

All In All We’re Just Another (Faux) Brick In The Wall (Faux Tile Backsplash)

Every SINGLE day since I published this post more than 2 years ago it has had at least 5 views per day (best day viewings? 1538 views).  I thought I would republish and shamelessly pander to those who like what I do more than what I say 😉

<a href="“>Faux Tiled Backsplash


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