Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember that during my first year at SCC that living on the 7th floor of the girls' dorm were two persons named Candy, Candy Bennett and Candy Higgins, and one named Candi, although maybe that sounded like a three to you. Perhaps that is another reason to believe that you probably get all of your wrong information from that trailer trash Gail Lee, yet another person who probably could not spell my name correctly if her life depended upon it, not that I am counting, but I am particular about how my name is spelled by persons who are filling out  forms for social security and Medicare, bank accounts, passports, etc. Yes, that does matter. 

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I had not really thought of it that way, but why should I be making myself so freely available to be used as a stepping-stone by those Arab people who bought the land? Perhaps my exit from the scene would change that game somehow, I am not sure how, but that would be yet another reason to go offshore and leave the Texas oil business for the OPEC people to figure out, because we get nothing from that state of things anyway, other than to be harassed continually. The Texas oil business is much too complicated for the average tax-paying U.S. citizen to figure out. You would need a wallet the size of Saudi Arabia to actually do something about that. 

And some of these things are based on something my grandmother said in days gone by, but anyway, things change. 

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it may seem superfluous to mention that my name is spelled with an i at the end, and not a y, so that it becomes apparent that the Beaumont play, "The Laws of Candy," has nothing to do with me, my name being Candi, not Candy. Besides which, if you had read the family history book, you would know that my great-grandfather's cousin lived somewhere in the vicinity of Beaumont, Texas, not in Louisiana, a swamp inhabited by strange Duck people who I never met anyway. So that seems to me to qualify as a silly tempest in a teapot, not really something to do something about. But I digress. 

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I sort of understand what you mean; did you not notice how these ambitious political people bark at me as if I were their slave property? They spend four years of high school playing tricks behind my back and yelling obscenities continuously, and then they expect me to do something about that? So thanks for your political service, but it is now probably time for you to go home and stop harassing private citizens such as myself. The gravy train only goes so far and then it is on to the next thing. Work work work!  

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember years ago hearing that Bobby had left the United States because he felt that he could not be happy here, that he could only be happy down there. Ok, fine. I did not think very much about that at the time, but the Gozo link may give a very different view of that point, one that was not possible to think of until quite recently.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, so amaziing, in the 8th grade I did such a good job on my Hallowwen box, so artistically rendered, that little 5th grader Cindy Bell accused me of being a demonic witch. Thanks. So why am I wasting all of this energy on useless Halloween projects that get me nowhere? So amazing how those little brats have no concern for my soul. They build a wall of curses because that is what they do, they do not actually think about anything, they just go with the group. And am I who they say I am or am I who God says I am? I have to choose a different path for my own sake. 

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I was not just a little bit annoyed with them for criticizing my mother's (or perhaps some other realtive's) oratorical display of patriotic fervor. So what if my mother thinks that this is the greatest nation on the planet and not embarrassed to say so in front of everyone? How is that a a problem?