It Ain't Easy Being Indian
Ricey Wild
Saturday, December 19 2009
Written by Ricey Wild,
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Ah! December! I like to reflect upon significant events in my life this past year. I also puzzle over insignificant and meaningless happenings, just for the fun of it. Like the time I...well, there is only so much space in my column to share.

If you are sorta interested to know, I have a FaceBook page. I do post occasionally but have not yet mastered the art of posting things about me and my life that any of my  “FRIENDS” care about. I try hard to be witty but all anyone cares about is Farmville, Mafia Wars and other goofy games that make no sense to me.


It ain’t easy being indian
Sunday, December 06 2009
Written by Ricey Wild,
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Last month I had to run for my life from a burning building carrying two hefty cats in their carriers in my bare feet on cold gravelly pavement. Later that same day I was grooving to the legendary B.B King who worked his magic with Lucille at the Disco Duck Danceteria at the Risky Raccoon Kasino & Hotel. I know! A friend got me hooked up with backstage passes; in this case bus passes to meet B.B himself. Bonus! I may have a new dad!

I know! Say, just hypothetically that one moment you are me, salivating at the rich, sweet smell of ribs cooking while watching the football game at your Mom’s apartment. Half-time comes and your Mom goes to check on her laundry. She comes hurtling back in yelling “Fire! Get the cats!” So I did. I tackled Ringo and Sirus, po’ things! I don’t remember grabbing my jacket or purse, I did, but not my shoes. It’s cold where I live too! I will never forget the sight of thick black smoke thundering down the hallway. My pup Mitzi led the way out. Smart dog.

It ain't easy being Indian
Thursday, October 29 2009
Written by Ricey Wild,
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Way back in the olden days when I was but a wee girl I watched a Dracula movie starring Bela Lugosi. I was traumatized, totally. That night and many years of nights thereafter I bunched my blankets up around my neck before being able to sleep so a vampire would have a pretty tough time trying to suck up my blood. It must have worked since I haven’t melted in direct sunlight ...yet.

The reason I bring that story up is at a recent Rezberry Open Meeting people were calling for blood, and lots of it. A whole lot of enrolled Rezberrians’ blood was illegally drained from them and they want it back.
CinderCat is a killer Cat!
Tuesday, August 25 2009
Written by Ricey Wild,
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CinderCat is a Killer cat. Fortunately for my household, aka my wigwam’s inhabitants, our food caches are not yet empty (thank you USDA).

Despite that, CinderCat, whom I accidentally adopted six years ago, proudly dragged home some game meat in his fangs. In this case it was a scrawny little chipmunk. Apparently he thinks all we need is more nutritious rodential diversity to achieve a healthy, balanced diet. His current available cuisine is either too dry and crunchy which is unsatisfying, and the canned stuff, though delicious, is ‘processed beyond recognition as actual acceptable consumable nutrition’, his words.

Yet, Cinder unrepentantly loves his ‘dollops’, which is milk-ishy half and half, but "hey"! Everyone has their weakness. Mine is buckets of Popeye’s red beans and rice. And then there’s...well I have only so much space. 

It aint easy being indian
Friday, July 24 2009
Written by Ricey Wild,
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I just have to share a very spooky moment I recently experienced. It was morning, I absent-ly looked in to my hall mirror and saw Kim Jong-II, big as life. He had red, beady eyes, with dark shadows as if he were ill and his hair stood straight up, real scary-like. What was the North Korean dictator doing, showing up in my mirror? His eyes widened and he squeaked something unintelligible. I don’t know Korean. Then I focused. The image in the mirror!

Moi. Ricey Wild. I looked like the taller twin sister of Kim Jong-II, sans coke bottle glasses. It is very difficult for me to communicate my utter shock and horror at my reflection. I would have passed out had I not begun to laugh and laugh. I laughed so long and so hard I was gasping, almost gagging, for breath.
It’s a good thing I have a highly developed sense of humor. And irony? My mirror used to be my friend. But like some friends do, it turned on me – viciously pointing out all my faults and shortcomings in glaring detail.

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