rambling rosemarie

Dear God, It's me, Rosemarie. I'd say something clever like, "I guess you're wondering why I am writing" but your omnipotence sort of makes that a silly way to start things out, doesn't it? It seems a bit odd to begin a letter with adoration that you, Almighty God, deserve. Perhaps I could have a do-over? Dear Almighty and Most High God; Creator of all that is and ever will be; God of Abraham, Isaac and Moses; The One who provided manna in the wilderness and split the Red Sea; The God who turns the hearts of men and who provides the only way of salvation through His Son, Jesus Christ our Lord; God of the insignificant likes of even me, Yeah, while that salutation is a more fitting way to address You, it doesn't roll off the tongue that easily and I haven't begun to scratch the surface. The more I start to list the more I realize I am leaving out. What's really overwhelming to me is the invitation I have as a believer to address you in a fa

I hate to be the one to tell you this but it appears that Kristen Stewart is an adulteress. The Twilight star has proven that money and fame don't necessarily coincide with contentment and integrity. Or good acting for that matter, but that's only my opinion. In what Stewart apologizes for as a " momentary indiscretion " she admits to having an affair with Rupert Sanders, the director of the Snow White movie she stars in...which I don't remember the entire title of ... and if it weren't for the fact that every news outlet seems to think her infidelity to Robert Pattinson is front page, hot scoop material, I wouldn't remember Kristen Stewart. I don't know why our culture is so fixated on sin that it isn't enough to wallow in your own but we seem intent to be groupies for others who are swimming in the cesspool. A momentary indiscretion. There are so many things wrong with that statement. The brash Rosemarie wants to say if it's only taki

This morning I was watching Good Morning America, which is my habit each morning since terrorists targeted the World Trade Center. It's a habit I can't seem to break and one that makes me crazy because of what passes for journalism these days. Today I got up and walked away from the TV and took my coffee with me, a sure sign I had no intention of actually watching the program. The folks at ABC decided to make an entertainment event on the tragedy in Colorado again. They ask the stupidest questions of people. "What were you thinking when you saw the gunman?" "What did your hero say to you as he was leading you out of the theater?" "What were you thinking when you used your body tho shield you daughter?" It makes me want to scream and throw things and rather than risk the loss of my television, I left and went to my office. I was surfing Face Book and grumbling to myself when one of my friends posted an article with an eye catching title.

I hate what passes for journalism today. I meant to say despise. No, wait...loathe. Really, really dislike. Argh! It makes my skin crawl. I understand all the reasons that it has become what it is, a gladiatorial entertainment grab at our pocketbooks, but that doesn't make it right. Something terrible happened in Colorado. Something that is unspeakably sad and it is right that we as a nation should be made aware. It is wrong that it should be the focus of the majority of newscasts for the entire day. A horrible thing happened, a man believed to be responsible is in custody; that much we should all know. What the survivors saw, what the alleged perpetrator had for breakfast and how his mom feels are things that should not be focused on ad nauseam. It can only go downhill when you focus on entertaining instead of informing. I like the folks at Good Morning America. I am rooting for Robin Roberts as she battles for good health. I think George Stephanopoulus is charming

After weeks of dry heat we've been treated to a week of steady rain. We needed it. My lawn was the brownest I have ever seen it so the week of rain is bringing it back to life. During the dry spell most of my neighbors lost their gardens. The heat of the sun and the abundance of rabbits turned victory gardens into dust bowls. In Kentucky, people depend on God to send the rain to keep their vegetable gardens alive long enough to harvest. I cheated. I used a soaker hose to keep my three tomato plants, egg plant, bell pepper and chard alive. I couldn't afford to water every day but I did water enough to keep them growing. I was very happy to have the rain come but I knew that it would cause me some gardener's grief and not just in the plethora of weeds that would ensue. I have always had veggies growing in a garden and in California they grew with little or no fuss. You stick them in the ground and know that every couple of days you will probably have to turn the hose on

It is time to return to important things. Here is a video that in two minutes provides more edifying information than I have produced in my lifetime. I love my gay family and friends. Your sins are no more worthy of death than mine. I love ya'll enough to tell you the truth.

It's back again. Ever have a friend who comes to visit uninvited? One that you feel guilty every time you see because you realize you don't really care for their company but don't have the guts to send them packing? Even though they feel like coarse sandpaper on sunburned skin, there's something oddly comfortable in being annoyed by them?  That's how I feel about this prickly disposition of mine.  It's back and I hate the way I love it. I literally feel like my blood has gone acidic to the point of blistering me from the inside out. Creepy tingling skin, acerbic wit and sarcasm... lots and lots of sarcasm with a dollop of delusion. I am convinced few are clever enough to keep up with me.  I am charged and fusing thoughts with words like an arc welder fuses metal.  I like word humor... but is it really funny? Comic relief at the expense of others?  The sad part is, I am really funny when I am like this.  I want to shout at people, "Don't laugh! You'

I have been sitting at my computer screen for much longer than I care to admit. I have been staring at it and it has been daring me to write something.  Anything. Even if it is wrong.  Even though it will not be read.  Forget about it being edifying. Don't even try for mildly entertaining. Just write. Get it out. Emotions without expression are poison to your soul. Vomit verbiage until you've purged. Go ahead and write about how much you miss your dog after putting him to sleep yesterday.  Describe how soft and silky his cheeks were and how not knowing you were taking him to his death, he put his chin on his bed and gazed contentedly at you as you waited for the vet to come out. All the while you stroked his head and ears trying to remember forever the contours.  Try to articulate what it feels like to know that the one creature on the planet that preferred your company to anything or anyone else trusted you as you put him out of his misery when he didn't know he was mise

The trouble with the high and low moments in your life are the impression they leave on those around you. People are afflicted with a strange idea of relationship.  We are like magnets that are only attracted to peaks and valleys. We gather for crises, we gather for celebration. We hold hands in anticipation of a life coming into the word and we hold hands and pray as someone we love is taking their last breath.  The best and the worst. That's when people show up with inadequate expressions of sentiments they may or may not truly have... but they fit the occasion. They are the expected thing to hear or say even when there really isn't a place to park your honest emotions. It's an incomplete picture. We play connect the dots between birthdays, weddings, funerals, accidents, great new jobs and wonderful vacations. We decide for ourselves what order the dots should be in and what picture they will make. We're wrong most of the time. People are more than their extremes. O