Courage

 

You will not go through this alone.

When the winds blow hard,

And the waves crash down,

Know that your hand is in mine.

My heart is carefully wrapped around yours.

You will not fail. You will not fall.

And if you stumble,

My arms will catch you.

My strength will hold you up until

You have recovered your own.

If the roads seem impassible,

And the rains blind your way,

Turn and look into my eyes.

You will find unfathomable love,

Joyous faith, immovable confidence,

All for you. You may take them as your own.

There will be trying times where you may want to quite.

They will come...they will pass.

Remember, you will not be conquered by this.

The shadows shall have no victory.

You are strong. You are beautiful. You are brave.

And you are not alone.

I cannot fight this battle for you.

But I can fight it with you.

We are in this together, you and I.

You are a warrior.

You are a conqueror.

Courage.

(Author Unknown)

What Kind of Closet is That?

 

If asked what my dream house would look like, one of the very basic requirements would be a huge walk-in closet. I love to organize, and I like every piece of clothing, purses, scarves and shoes to have their very own cubbies.

My last house in Virginia had such a closet. It had space for hanging clothes, shelves, a storage area, and next to that more space for hanging clothes. It was in that area that I turned into a small private office. That was some closet! I loved hanging out there. What privacy and solitude I experienced.

Up to that point in my life, I thought of closets as places to store things in and not a place to come out of. But come out I did, because at age 49, I realized I was gay and had been my entire life. It was a real shock to me since I had been dating since I was 19. Plus, I had two ex-husbands and was married at the time to future ex-husband number three.

Let me tell you, coming out in Northern Virginia was quite an experience. I had people tell me it was a phase that I would soon tire of and that I was acting out to get attention. And the way they described my coming out was, “Sharon? She changed horses in mid-stream.” or “Sharon’s going through a mid-life crisis, probably due to menopause.” Oh please! 

 The reason I came out was because I finally met a person who treated me as the wonderful, loving, funny, attractive, creative creature that I was. She didn’t try to mold me into someone I wasn’t, and she understood what made me tick. 

The men in my life were always demanding me to be someone I wasn’t. To them I wasn’t thin enough, attractive enough, well-educated enough and so forth. Also, I did not have breasts to their liking. All I ever wanted from a man was to be appreciated for who I was, and not for what they wanted me to be.

During my years married, I read a lot of romantic novels to keep me content and in my place. The plot line was always the same - the heroine would find a man who immensely annoyed her, but due to a maze of inspired-by-evil events, he rescues her. At the end of the story, he becomes her prince charming, and they live happily ever after. 

Unfortunately, in real life, as we all know, it isn’t that simple. The problem was I couldn’t be someone I wasn’t and never could be. Once I had that epiphany, my life changed for the better.

Being a Lesbian at any age isn’t easy nor is it without its trauma-filled moments. Try getting a divorce from a white male, and a Republican to boot in a Southern State. A big oops! One finds out very quickly who really are the open-minded liberals and the ones who pretend to be….and never were.

 Another one of life’s lessons learned: you fill up your closet with lots of stuff so one can hide from the world about who you really are. It gets so crowded in there that you need to come out, just to be able to breathe and be your true self.

Note: I came out in 2003 and in 2004 married my person. This December it will be 19 years!

 

Me & the Horizontal Slide

 

In July of 2021, I was in Albany, New York looking for a house to buy. My real estate agent knew I was not familiar with the area. She said “New York drivers (NYDs) are very aggressive. And the only way not to be involved in a car accident is to be aggressive back.”

What did I get myself into? I found out that NYDs have an intense desire to drive recklessly. They are insane. It’s like they are all driving without having their first cup of coffee causing them to be very angry and taking it out on out-of-state drivers. Which would be me.

My car had an New Hampshire license plate, because that is where I lived at the time, that said, “Live Free or Die.” Well, NYDs took those words very seriously and were ruthless with me.

"Threading the needle" is when a driver weaves in and around cars. Well, NYDs do that daily. Did I mention NYDs are crazy?

Well, I found another evasive form of driving that seems to be popular with NYDs. I decided to call it the “Horizontal Slide.” This is the act of changing lanes by just sliding over. It’s amazing to witness it. Unfortunately, not a fun experience if you are in the way of a slider. Which I was.

I was driving on I-787 when my agent gasped loudly. I saw a car sliding over to our lane (toward the passenger side of the car).

As I am doing some serious defensive moves to try not to get us killed, I’m thinking, “Wow! This is going to really hurt a lot.” Not a single image of my life passed before my eyes, which really says a lot about my life.

Thankfully, the car to my immediate left backed off so that I could move into its lane and not slide directly into it. I lived, only to experience crazier NYDs later that day.

As Taylor Swift would say, “Welcome to New York.” Yup!!!

Me & Saving the Day

Since I’ve moved to Albany in October, I have noticed that the people have been wonderful, helpful and kind to me. Of course, they would be – if you saw a woman standing in the street waving you down (happened in  “Me & Getting Lost - Chapter 1”).

The other thing I’ve noticed is there have been four car accidents on our little block of ten houses since October. Our young neighbors, who have lived here for two years, don’t understand why all of a sudden there are multiple accidents. Well…things seem to happen when we are around. Think of us as a potential sitcom called the “Black Cloud.” It always seems to be hanging around us.

So last Saturday, I was out in the front yard, doing some gardening and had just stepped into the house when I heard that familiar sound of two cars slamming into one another. I turned around saw one car touching a tree on our grassy boulevard. I couldn’t see the other at that point.

I dialed “911” on our landline (yes, I’m one of those people). I explained there had been a car accident and gave the street location. I was asked questions that I couldn’t answer. How many cars, how many people involved and were any of them hurt? I explained about the sound one hears when two cars slam into one another. The 911 operator thanked me for calling and that help was on the way.

I walked over to the other side of our boulevard to let people know that 911 had been called. I saw two people dressed like they were going to an event. They were. They were headed to the nearby Temple to attend a bar mitzvah. Their car was totaled and as you might expect, the airbags had deployed.

There were a number of people at the site, and I thought some of them were involved in the accident. No, they were neighbors like me, coming to help. One brought water and folding chairs for the people in the accident to sit on.

Come to find out, the two people in the car that was resting on the tree, were still in the car. I never saw them in all the excitement. At one point, I did see a stretcher near the passenger side.

One of the neighbors whom I recently met (Sarah), was standing with the couple and was very upset. I found out she had been stopped at the stop sign when Sam and Martha’s car was hit. Their car swung around and missed Sarah’s car by mere inches.

Sam & Martha had driven up from Long Island to attend the bar mitzvah. They now had no car and were stranded. I volunteered to take them to the Temple, but the service was almost over. They now needed a car to get to their hotel and then head back to Long Island the next day.

Sam was talking to the insurance company’s customer service rep about getting a rental car from Enterprise (the insurance company had a contract with). In the meantime, one of my neighbors was moving their belongings into my car. We found that the Enterprise located downtown was going to close at noon, it was now 11:40. Off we go.

Martha had Waze and was guiding me downtown. I was following her instructions and we were doing great until I missed the street we were supposed to turn on. I turned around in someone’s driveway.

Things got crazy. I ended up by my nemesis “The Egg” and I knew I was truly lost (see previous posting “Me & Getting Lost”). I made another turn, and the road was blocked off by the police for some type of an event, I made another turn and ended up crossing the Hudson River to Rensselaer. Don’t ask.

Sam called Enterprise to let them know we were on our way but had ended up on the wrong side of the river. At this point, the Enterprise Customer Rep checked and said he didn’t have a car registered in Sam’s name. The only other option was to go to the Albany Airport where another Enterprise was located.

Okay folks, here’s where it got really dicey. I knew how to get to the Albany Airport from my house. I have PTSD from my various failed trips into the City of Albany. So off we go, passing the intersection where the accident occurred and where my house was.

We made it to the Airport. Only to find that Enterprise doesn’t handle insurance-related rental cars and even if they did, all their cars were rented out for the next three days. Yikes.

Sam went off to talk to Budget Rental. They too don’t deal with the insurance-related rentals. At this point, it didn’t matter, they needed a car to get back home to Long Island.

One thing Martha kept saying was how kind I was to help them out. Why wouldn’t I? I would like to think if I were in a situation like theirs, someone would do the same to help me.

I’m grateful that I live in the neighborhood that I do. A number of people came to their aid which is the way it should be. People helping one another, being kind to each other. In today’s world we need so much more of that kindness.

Me & the Creepy Crawlers

 

OMG! I’m from Nebraska so that translates to “Oh My Gosh.” We have centipedes in our house! We’ve killed four in the past two weeks. They are approximately 3 inches in length, by my estimation. I haven’t had the opportunity to measure them, and I don’t plan to.

I know absolutely nothing about centipedes. I went out to the Internet. The information I found there was just frightening.

They can range from under 1 inch to 7 inches long. What the hell?!?! They prefer dark, damp places and wet climates. We have a damp, wet basement which is one of their favorite hide outs. I’m doomed!!! I’m moving to the North Pole.

They have the ability to bite! They will bite if picked up – that’s not going to happen in my household. EVER! Also, if you step on one, they will bite. I’m going to start wearing my Wellies in the house. And, if you make them angry, they will run straight at you. What?!?!?

I checked with my neighbors. Wet basements are a fact of life in this area and obviously so are centipedes. One neighbor said, “Very common, welcome to the neighborhood. No!!!

One neighbor doesn’t have centipedes; she has silverfish instead. I looked them up on the Internet. Very prehistoric looking. I hope they aren’t living in our basement as well. Because if they are, I’m moving.

Here’s the kicker. The female centipede can lay between 35 to 100 eggs at a time. And a common house centipede can have a life expectancy of up to 5 years. OMG, what universe am I living in?

My suggestion to the City of Albany is to change their logo to make Albany the “Centipede Capital of New York State.” That would definitely bring in more tourists!

Me & Water

So…water has followed me everywhere I’ve lived, beginning when I was four years old. At the time, we lived at the Kadena Air Force Base in Okinawa, Japan. Point of interest: the island of Okinawa can get hit with seven or eight typhoons a year, while the mainland may only get hit by two or three.

I spent a portion of my childhood standing on our couch with water lapping at my toes due to typhoons. Where we lived on the Base, the drainage system, designed for large amounts of storm water to flow through, would get clogged. My father would have to wade out and dislodge whatever was blocking the system. The water moved at such a force that we didn’t know we had a clog until the living room filled up with water.

Many years later, I lived in Washington, D.C., in an “English Basement” whatever that means. In reality, it was a basement with tiny windows and an even tinier living space. The owner had recently had some work done on the back stairway. The construction company had moved a pipe which unfortunately allowed muddy water to drain through the pipe to our below grade entrance. Well…it clogged up and I came home to a very wet “English Basement.”

Years later, a house we owned in New England, had water issues as well. Getting the drift of this story line now?

When we were doing our home inspection here in Albany, there was a tiny amount of water in the basement. When asked, the owner said that water appeared now and then over the five years she had lived there, but it was not a big deal. It went away with the use of a dehumidifier.

Two weeks after moving into our house it rained and there wasn’t a lot of water, but I wouldn’t describe it as “a tiny amount of water” either. I had to move our unpacked moving boxes away from the water, which was disconcerting.

I had hired a handyman to do some work around our house. He told me he had experience in masonry work, so I had him patch the area where the water was coming in. All he did was make matters worse, and with the next big rain, the wet area increased in size. The end result of his attempting to fix our “wet basement” is that I had to hire someone with real masonry experience to correct the situation. Oh, the price of home ownership.

Side Bar: Recently, a house near us had a serious basement issue. The entire rear wall collapsed in the middle of the night. The house had to be demolished later that day with all the owner’s belongings (furniture, appliances, etc.) because the foundation was dangerously unsafe. What I’m having to pay for fixing our basement isn’t a big deal after all. Especially if it means we won’t be awakened in the night with the rear wall of our basement gone.

Oh, by the way, does Albany ever get typhons?

Me & Albany, NY

Every time I’ve mentioned that we’ve moved from New Hampshire (previously we had lived in Massachusetts), folks here in Albany, ask why? They are confused, because there are many New Yorkers that want to, or are moving, out of the state due to high property and state taxes. By the way, New Hampshire doesn’t have state taxes, but the property taxes are higher than in many parts of New York State.

I explain that we found an affordable house in the City of Albany. Where in today’s world of the Pandemic and bidding wars, it was such a gift to find a house that was worth the asking price without gouging one’s pocketbook.

There are so many stores and opportunities to visit other small towns and businesses around Albany, like Amsterdam, NY. In one direction on the train, you can get to New York City, and the other direction, one can head toward Montreal. How cool is that?

We are situated between two hospitals. A nearby airport services many hubs on the East Coast. We are near two major malls. One has a Macy’s and a Christmas Tree Shop. What more could one want?

Where we were living in western New Hampshire, we had access to a Kohl’s and a Walmart. While living there I had to shop online to buy clothes and other items. I like shopping in person even if it's just checking out items that are pretty to look at.

By the way, I’m now officially a New Yorker, and that is a long way from when I was a Cornhusker from Nebraska.

Me & DMV

I was lucky when we moved to Albany, NY in October of 2021. There were so many people to notify or not of our move and it all fell into place. Resulting in little or no stress. Yeah!

Not so when trying to register our car. Little did I know that it was going to take weeks. The staff at DMV were extremely kind to me. You would be too after seeing me on five different occasions. Unfortunately, the rules within the system were not flexible and that is where things became dicey.

In New York State, a car owner physically possesses their car’s title, even though they may have a loan out on it. In New Hampshire, you don’t get the title unless you have paid off the loan. Which makes sense. The title becomes a type of collateral, so the bank is assured that their loan will be re-paid. Obviously, that’s not how it works in New York State.

I was told to contact the bank holding our loan and have them send a certified copy of title and a letter of permission faxed to the New York State DMV. I was given a fax number to use.

My first problem was reaching the appropriate person at my credit union in New Hampshire who could send the documents to New York State. Getting to a Customer Service Representative was a real challenge.

The first time I called, I was number 37 in the holding queue. I thought I’d call later. And I did. At that point, I was number 132 in line. Yes, you did not misread what I wrote. One hundred and thirty-one people were ahead of me. What?!?!?!

I needed those documents, so I put the phone on speaker for two hours and six minutes and played computer games. And, then voila - I got my first human. I explained the situation and what I needed to get our car registered in New York State. I was forwarded to a wonderful young woman (I’ll call her Jane) in their records department.

Jane gathered the information needed and I gave her the fax number to send the documents to. Two days later I started calling DMV to find out the status. They had not received the documents. The number I was given by DMV was not an active number.

I emailed Jane. She resent the documents to the new DMV fax number I was given. Two days later, I checked on the status of the second sent fax and that one couldn’t be found either.

At this point, I’m wondering if I would always be driving with New Hampshire plates. BTW, the clock was ticking. New York State has a deadline for vehicle registration for residents.

Good news. While checking on the status of the second fax, I found a person who stated that the department needed notarized certified copy of the documents. The faxed ones wouldn’t count. Why was I even given a fax number if that was the case?

I emailed Jane again. On October 25th, she sent the certified originals to me at our new address in Albany. Ten days later, they still had not arrived.

I emailed Jane again. She got permission from her supervisor to FedEx the two originals to me. With them in hand, I went back to DMV for my fifth and final visit.

Goodbye New Hampshire! Hello New York State!

Me & Getting Lost - Chapter 1

The last two towns I’ve lived in had populations of 64,000 and 14,000. Albany has a population of approximately 315,000. That’s a lot of people. How do they get around?

It takes three interstates and a state highway (that feels like an interstate)! OMG!!! Is that necessary? In an earlier story, I mentioned New York Drivers (NYDs) are intense, with regard to their driving skills. I now know why. They are trying to get away from each other.

My first month here in the City of Albany, I got misplaced (aka lost) every single time I went out. A 10-minute trip would end up taking 35 minutes or more. Though I did make a lot of friends.

For you who do not know me, I’m shameless. You should see me hand out my cards to complete strangers with my blog address on it. My stopping complete strangers for assistance isn’t a surprise.

For the first six weeks of my residency in the City of Albany, I had New Hampshire plates. Thank goodness. I would roll down my car window and wave down people at stoplights. I would tell drivers that I was from out of state and lost, which was true.

One time, I got misplaced (aka lost) in a residential area, trying to find the access ramp to I-787. I pulled over and stood in the middle of the road and waved a driver down. Yes, that’s me, the crazy woman literally blocking the road and waving her arms. The couple was very nice about my intrusion into their morning routine and helped me out.

I’ve found that there are many gas stations and churches on or near corners in the City of Albany. I was using one as my landmark for the turnoff to the road that would lead me home. Unfortunately, I had not noticed that there were two churches about three hundred feet apart so I didn’t turn where I should have. I kept driving toward downtown Albany. I know this because it has tall buildings. The streets at this point are all one-way and I just didn’t know which way to turn.

I called Mary and she was talking me through by looking at the map on her laptop. The problem was I would just have passed the street she would want me to turn on. I ended up going around “The Egg” more times than I wanted to.

What is “The Egg” you are wondering? It’s a performing arts venue building near the State Capital. I don’t know why so many people think it looks like an egg. To me it looks like a mushroom with half of its top sheared off or a spaceship. Go Google it to see for yourself.

I made a wrong turn and ended up going north on I-787. What?!?!?! I got off the next exit and guess where I ended up? At “The Egg” again! I had given up on Mary’s assistance and by now I was on my own.

I decided I would take a residential street and hope for the best. I did this and saw a young woman delivering a Domino’s Pizza (she had the sign on her car). She couldn’t get across the street, too much traffic, so I pulled over and parked my car. Then I stepped out in the road and stopped traffic by waving my arms. Yup, that’s me, the crazy lady from Nebraska. At this point, the Domino Pizza woman got across the street. I asked her how to get out of this area. She didn’t know, but a woman walking nearby did. It was hard to tell this woman’s age as she was very skinny and was missing a few teeth.

Every time I tell this story to the locals, they just gasp. It seems that the street I was on, South Pearl, is part of an area where illegal drugs are regularly trafficked. Oops! I will point out, that it was broad daylight. And the woman was extremely helpful. I followed her instructions and got to an area that looked familiar.

There are so many more “I’m Lost” stories. I’m now using my trusty paper road map. I’ve given up on using a GPS. All it ever did was to direct me to drive on one of the many interstates/state highways, (which I strongly dislike), to get to my destination.

Here’s a list of my fears while driving on those roads:

· 18-wheelers passing me;

· High winds pushing me off the road or into another car, or an 18-wheeler;

· Road signs showing that the road is going down to one lane. Yet there are drivers who don’t read those signs until the last moment;

· Concrete Jersey barriers;

· Drivers threading the needle and I’m the “eye” part of the needle.

Yesterday I had an errand, it required using State Highway 85, I-87 and I-90. I did reach my destination, but not without a lot of anxiety and sheer fear. That list above? All those happened within minutes of each other. OMG!!! 

Me & Getting Lost - Chapter 2

 

Damn it! I got lost trying to get to the Department of General Services to pick up mulch for my Earth Machine, a city-supplied composter. And what do I see ahead? The Egg! What is it with me and that darn Egg?

I had been using a GPS App on my iPhone and I had been doing well hearing the instructions and then all of sudden the voice faded out so I had to guess what direction I should go. I made a left-hand turn and there was “The Egg” in front of me. Oh My Gosh. Why? Why? Why?

The voice picked up and gave me directions to get back to the correct street. Yeah, I saw the Hudson River Bridge that I’m supposed to go under. Hallelujah! I know where I am.

Okay, I arrived at Richard J. Conners Blvd. where the Department of General Services is located. One drives to a check-in area where your Driver’s License is checked to make sure you are a city resident. When I drove up, she said, “I remember you!” What is it about me that make me so memorable?

After a lovely chat, I got my mulch and off I went. Only made it about 2 miles and I got lost again! Almost ended up at the I-787 ramp! No!!! I saw a side-street and made a hard right turn. Finally made it to a familiar street.

As I was passing by “The Egg," I waved, finally heading home in the right direction.

Throwback Thursday - "The Bank Robbery"

 

Happy Thursday, this is one of my first attempts at writing a fictional story. Originally posted in 2019. Enjoy!

Damn it! I’m running late to my dentist appointment. I have no time to be part of a bank robbery. What were these people thinking? Holding up a bank at 10:30 a.m. on a Wednesday morning? Didn’t they know people had plans? 

They insisted that we all lie down on the floor and not move. I’m wearing a short-sleeved shirt and capris and lying on a cold stone floor is extremely uncomfortable. Is this really necessary? Couldn’t they have planned this at a better time such as during the winter when I would be wearing a warm coat with leggings and boots?

Plus, I was told to keep my head down and not move. Are you kidding me? Did I mention the damn floor is freezing? I’m so cold, I’m shaking. I must tell the bank staff that their cleaning crew is not doing a thorough enough job. There are dust bunnies everywhere.

I just don’t believe this! One of the bank robbers is wearing a pair of Keds designed by Taylor Swift. They are classy with a figure of a cat’s head on the heel of the shoe, and they are very pricey. Could she be robbing the bank to help pay for her shoe fetish? 

I just realized why this situation seems so odd. All three robbers are female. How unusual. Should I mention to the one robber that her socks are two different shades of red? Think she’d be offended?

They are now asking for all our jewelry, money, and cell phones. The one wearing purple high tops is gathering all of our possessions. What about robbing the bank instead of us? Isn’t that the whole purpose of a bank robbery?

The alarm just started going off and that is making all three very jittery. Did I mention they were carrying guns? I hope they are NRA members and have had lessons on the proper technique of holding and using firearms. As we all know, guns can be very dangerous in the hands of someone who doesn’t know what the hell they are doing. I pray that they have some type of experience and don’t start shooting because the damned alarm is making them so nervous.

Finally, after three hours something finally happens. All of a sudden, they are asking us to stand in a tight circle facing outward and to slowly start walking out the front door. Hey, don’t they know there is a squad of men with loaded guns right outside the door? I don’t know about anyone else, but I don’t want to be considered a moving target. Well, I guess I have no choice at this point. I’m not the one holding a loaded gun. I do what I’m told.

Just as the last of us squeezes out the doorway, a string of firecrackers goes off.  One of the robbers had set them off. We all go running in different directions, screaming our heads off, causing quite a disruption which is what our three wanted. In all of the confusion, they got away.

Afterwards, the police were taking descriptions of the robbers. I was able to tell the officer that one of the robbers was wearing black Doc Martins and had a husky voice. The one wearing Taylor Swift’s Keds had a whiny-baby sounding voice. And, the one in the purple high tops with the red socks had a very southern accent and had a slight limp.

The fact that the robbers were female made national news. Other than that, they were never found after taking all of our jewelry and the money from the bank. They did leave our cell phones behind so at least I’m still functional. Unfortunately, I’m missing a lot of bling.

P.S. – I was in the grocery store recently and looked over at this nicely dressed young woman wearing a pair of Taylor Swift Keds – could she have been one of the three bank robbers? I will never know.

The End!

Throwback Thursday from 2019

I wrote this back in 2019.

What Came First: Writer's Block or PTSD?

I have wanted to be published for many years. The problem was, I’d had writer’s block for over 36 of those years. Back when I was 17, I was a student in Mr. H’s English class at Lincoln East High School in Lincoln, Nebraska. He was also the coach for one of our athletic teams, but I don’t remember which one. 

One of our assignments was to describe something in vivid detail. For my story, I chose Toby, my mother’s Newfoundland dog. Well, Mr. H. used my work to point out that I anthropomorphized my character. And he did so with a relish. Though he didn’t name who the student was, he looked directly at me during his entire tirade.

To say I was humiliated was an understatement. It was bad enough that I tried to hide from everyone in a school where the population was over 2,000.  I especially tried to hide from the football and basketball teams. They loved to grab my books and throw them in the trash can on a regular basis, and that was minor compared to the other things that they succeeded in doing. 

That experience in Mr. H’s English class, caused me to slip even farther down the rabbit hole, which isn’t healthy, especially for a 17-year old with no viable-support system.

Flash forward, I am now 65-years old. As of today, there have been over 67,000 views on my blog! My plan is to post every Sunday between 2 p.m. and 11:59 p.m.

The very insecure little girl in me is so thrilled. I’ve had many readers’ mention how much they have enjoyed my postings and that they look forward to reading more! What do you think of that, Mr. H?

The Alphabet of Living Right -- Found this off of a Hallmark Card

 

·        Appreciate yourself

·        Bounce on the bed

·        Create a poem

·        Declare world peace

·        Explode a myth

·        Flabbergast a neighbor

·        Get up late

·        Help yourself to seconds

·        Imagine it and do it

·        Jump at the chance

·        Kindle a flame

·        Leave your troubles behind

·        Meet someone new

·        Nourish your soul

·        Opt for ice cream

·        Play all day

·        Quench your desires

·        Revel at random

·        Sing loudly, smile widely

·        Touch the sky

·        Uncork the champagne

·        Vamoose

·        Watch what you want

·        X - ercise your right not to

·        Yearn for the best

·        Zip, zap, zing, and zone out