Overnight Open Thread (3-10-2016)

Because reasons.

20 Minutes of Eva Longoria Sewing, While Talking About Sewing

I'm mildly ashamed to admit that I know what a serger is. I blame a woman. And society.

Bookworm on the Death of her Mother

We are responsible for our own happiness. A point I've hammered home relentlessly every time I've spent extended time with my Mom is that we are responsible for our own happiness. My mother, bless her heart, wanted me to be responsible for her happiness, and I couldn't do that. I could give to her and be there for her up to a point.  After that point, though, my time was used up and my emotional well was dry.

Faced with the burden of "you're the only thing that makes me happy," I too often ran away. That meant that I didn't have that lunch with her or take her on the shopping trips she loved so much. I knew then that I'd feel guilty when she died, and I do feel guilty, but the reality was that I kept drawing lines lest I get sucked into her overwhelming unhappiness.

My mother certainly had reason to be unhappy. Her parents had a miserable marriage and, when they divorced, left her to raise her sister in a home with minimal money. She and her sister spent almost four years in a Japanese concentration camp. After surviving WWII, they were pitched into the Israeli War of Independence. Then, when life was settling down, my Dad got restless and dragged her to America, when she would have been perfectly happy staying in Israel.

Despite spending the largest part of her life in America, Mom always felt like a foreigner. My Dad, a good man, wasn't a good breadwinner, and my mother chafed endlessly under the restrictions of genteel poverty and, as she got older, the fear of a truly penurious old age. The fact that, when old age came it was not penurious but, thanks to her scrimping and saving, comfortable (though not lavish) couldn't assuage those deep fears. A mixture of serious health problems and acute hypochondria magnified her fears. No wonder my Mom was always miserable. . . .

Except that . . . Mom could have seen her life through a very different prism. It was a life of epic adventures, triumph over adversity, the love of family and friends, and a financially pretty-darn-secure old age, with the best medical care available in a country that offers the best medical care in the world. Yes, bad things happened, and yes, she had pain, but she always landed on her feet to great applause.

Mom was born in the age of Flappers and died in the time of smart phones. She lived in Europe, America, and the Far East. She saw empires rise and fall. She had a knack for making friends. She had children and grandchildren who loved and respected her. If only she could have appreciated the happiness spread before her.

David Attenborough Being Awesome

Listen To David Bowie's Isolated Vocals For Ziggy Stardust

Recorded in November 1971. As a kid I always heard the lyric in the song as 'Making love with his eagle' which led to a lot of questions on my part.

Building the H&K G3

Enjoy the groovilicious 60s music and German manufacturing techniques and classic battle rifles.

And for $900 you can get yourself a G3 clone here. Or a CETME for just $700 (which is 96% the same as a G3).

'Doctor Anal' Loses His License

Yahoo group. That is all.

Tonight's post brought to you by selfies 1920s-style:

Notice: Posted by permission of AceCorp LLC. Do not taunt happy-fun ball. Or taunt. Whatevs I get paid the same either way. And you probably won't be missed much anyway. Hell we barely even mention Buzzion anymore.

posted by Maetenloch at 11:21 PM

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