Thursday, August 31, 2006

Steal-A-Meme

I liked the idea Bucky Four Eyes had for stealing a meme, so I got this one from her:
TECH-OLOGY:

Number of contacts in your cell phone?200 – give or take a few that I haven’t deleted yet.

Number of contacts in your email address book?

407 – but again, there are quite a few I need to delete.

What is the wallpaper on your computer?
This dandelion picture, taken by my best friend. What is your screensaver on your computer?
A quote that scrolls. It says: "Do what you feel in your heart to be right. You'll be criticized anyway." ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

Are there naked pictures saved on your computer?

No

How many landline phones do you have in your home?

None

How many televisions are in your home?

One

What kitchen appliance do you use the least?

Electric can opener. But I don’t understand toaster ovens. They are a big waste of counter space in my opinion.

What is the format of the radio station you listen to most?

I listen to XM Radio – and bounce from genre to genre.


BI-OLOGY:

What do you consider to be your best physical attribute?
When I asked Eddie, he said, “Your breasts." I have to agree.

Are you right handed or left handed?

Right

Have you had anything removed from your body?

No

Would you like to?

Yes, but not against my will.

Which of your five senses do you think is keenest?

I think my best sense is that of smell. Often, I’ll say to Eddie “Eww, what is that?” and he says, “What?”
“That. Don’t you smell it?”
“No, I don’t smell anything.”

Although, we have that same conversation regarding thing I hear...primarily annoying noises: “What is that noise?”
“What noise?”
“That.”
“What?”
“THAT”“I don’t hear anything.”
It’s so bad sometimes, that I will follow the sound until I locate exactly what’s making it and then CRUSH whatever it is like an evil little bug.

When was the last time you had a cavity?

I don’t know, when I was eight?

What is the heaviest item you lift regularly?

Myself.

MISC-OLOGY:

If it were possible, would you like to know the day you're going to die?
It would be good to know so you can start ticking things off a that list titled, “Things I Want To Do Before I Die”

If you could change your first name, what would you change it to?

I’ve never wanted to change my name, but if I did, it would have to be to something extremely unusual.

How do you express your artistic side?

Writing, Cooking and coming up with inventions that everyone just “has to have.” I think Ed is tired of hearing me say, “You know what people really need? I’m going to invent a way to….”

What color do you think you look best in?

I like black, but people always tell me Red or Fuschia.

How long do you think you could last in a medium security prison?

As long as I needed to be there. I can make friends anywhere.

Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?

Of course. Other than bugs, that fly in literally right under your nose, I’ve swallowed a few things that I wouldn't have if I had listened to my mother when she said “Don’t put that in your mouth; you’ll swallow it!”

If we weren't bound by society's conventions, do you have a relative you would make a pass at?

Not really.

How often do you go to church?

Usually only for weddings or christenings – hopefully all the marrying and babymaking in my family is done.

Have you ever saved someone's life?

No

Has someone ever saved yours?

Literally saved me from dying? No. Saved my ass? Plenty of times.


DARE-OLOGY:
For this last section, if you would do it for less or more money, indicate how much.

Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000?
Hell, yeah.

Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?

Sure. I actually have some lesbian friends who might pay me more than that!

Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000?

I think I might do it for a million, but otherwise, I like my fingers.

Would you never blog again for $50,000?

I don’t think so, because as much as I would like the fifty grand, the feeling of being so controlled would bother me more.

Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?

With some airbrushing or strategically placed chiffon scarves….yes.

Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?

No freakin’ way. But I might do it for $100,000.

Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000?

Not just any person picked at random, no. But if I got to pick the person.... OK, I probably wouldn't actually be able to do it.

Would you shave your head and get your entire body waxed for $5,000?

Hell, yeah. At least if I hated the results, I'd have money to buy a wig. And hats.

Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000?

I wish someone would make me this offer; I barely watch it now.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

You Couldn't Pay Me Enough

I don't think there is any compensation that would be great enough for me to wear any of these things to do a job.

1. Any sort of "costume" type of uniform: Like the kind of Swiss Miss uniform you might find if you worked at a Dutch pancake house, or that striped yellow, red and blue uniform they wear at Hot Dog On A Stick or even something as basic as suspenders (with all those buttons and crap on them) like the kind you see on the people at T.G.I. Friday's. I could never be that "peppy" for a job.

2. Heels and a hard hat (unless Eddie asked me to!)

3. Cleats


4. Rubber gloves (There are too many disgusting reasons these may be needed....I don't even want to think about it.)

5. A paper hat or a hair net

6. Orange shorts, pantyhose and white scrunchie socks (didn't those socks go out of style in 1985?)

7. A referee uniform (unless I actually was a referee)

8. Knee Pads

9. Anything made of asbestos

10. Pasties (again, unless Eddie asked)

Monday, August 28, 2006

If You're Going To Rescue Me, Bring Sandwiches

Eddie and I recently went to see World Trade Center, the movie. Very disappointing, unless you're interested in two hours of Nicolas Cage and his co-star talking to each other, in the dark, covered in dust and rubble. My advice is not to waste your money. Do NOT pay to see this movie! Have a date take you, sneak into the theatre or download it illegally from the internet. Or, better yet, just mail me your eight dollars and I'll mail you back a picture of rubble.

Among the many scenes we found to be ridiculous, this one stood out:

A lone Marine decided he is going to help the people trapped in the buildings. On his own accord, without direction, a commanding officer or even another troop he starts walking among the rubble, calling out "United States Marine! If you hear me, tap or call out!"

Over an over, as he walked the piles of rubble, he called out, "United States Marine! If you hear me, tap or call out!"

Our question was this: Do you really think it mattered that he was a United States Marine?

I wouldn't care if the guy was yelling, "This is Nick! From the corner deli! If you hear me, tap or call out!"

I don't really think I would have waited to hear the voice of a United States Marine before answering; I think I'd be yelling back, "Nick! Down here! I hope you brought sandwiches!!"

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Trouser Snakes On A Plane

Eddie and I were talking this morning about all the stuff they don't let you bring on planes anymore.

I said, "You know, people are going to TRY to smuggle a snake on a plane now that that stupid movie Snakes On A Plane is out. You're definitely going to get some moron who might be smart enough not to put it in their carry on, yet will try to smuggle it on the plane in their pants or something."

He said, "You can't smuggle a snake in your pants."

I said, "Oh really? I've known guys who smuggle snakes in their pants everyday."

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Heading South With One Wayward Goose

I guess these guys are headed South for the winter. See how nice and lined up everyone is? And see the one flying off to the side? That would be me.

Friday, August 25, 2006

You Oughta Be In Pictures

Last night, I was sitting in a truck stop, reading a book, talking on the phone and waiting for Ed to finish up whatever he was doing with the truck.

I am dirty from tarping the load (ugh, work), I'm sweating my ass off (no air conditioning in the truck - it broke) and I smelled like a homeless man's armpit (from working, being dirty and having no A/C in the truck).

My sweaty mop of hair is on the top of my head, being held out of my eyes by four grandma like bobby pins as I try to cool off with a icy diet coke.

As I'm talking to my best friend on the phone, this frail little old lady in a wheelchair is deposited next to my table by one of her family members. I glance over and give her a little smile.

She says to me, "I like your purse. Where did you get that?"

I say, "Target."

"Oh, it's lovely."

"Thank you."

I continue my conversation on the phone when she speaks again. "Do they sell lottery tickets here?"

"I don't know," I answer "I haven't seen a sign anywhere. Maybe in the travel store." She seems satisfied with that answer. I go back to my phone call.

Again, I hear her voice, "Are you on TV?"

Thinking she might be confused with newfangled technology like cell phones that have little screens on them and possibly mistook my phone for a tiny TV, I answered "No, I"m on the phone."

So she says, "No. Are you on TV??" as if I were some star hiding out at a truck stop, sporting bad hair and a smelly t-shirt to throw off the paparazzi.

I laughed and said with a smile, "Ohhh. No, I'm not on TV, but that would be nice, wouldn't it?" She nodded and smiled as if she agreed.

Chuckling to myself, I thought, either her vision is failing her, she watches a lot of reality television or she doesn't get out much. And exactly which TV show did she envision me on anyway??

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Steel City Glow

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania getting a glimpse of its pretty night-time self in the river.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Asking Too Much

Someone recently sent me the words to an Ani DiFranco song called Asking Too Much. To me, they say so much. Here they are:


i want somebody who sees the pointlessness and still keeps their purpose in mind.

i want somebody who has a tortured soul some of the time.

i want somebody who will either put out for me or put me out of misery. or maybe just put it all to words and make me say, you know i never heard it put that way. make me say, what did you just say?

i want somebody who can hold my interest. hold it and never let it fall. someone who can flatten me with a kiss that hits like a fist or a sentence, that stops me like a brick wall. because if you hear me talking, listen to what i'm not saying.

if you hear me playing guitar, listen to what i'm not playing. and don't ask me to put words to all the spaces between notes. in fact, if you have to ask, forget it. do, and you'll regret it.

i'm tired of being the interesting one. i'm tired of having fun for two. just lay yourself on the line, and i might lay myself down by you.

but don't sit behind your eyes and wait for me to surprise you. i want somebody who can make me scream until it's funny. give me a run for my money.

i want someone who can twist me up in knots. tell me, for the woman who has everything, what have you got?

i want someone who's not afraid of me or anyone else. in other words, i want someone who's not afraid of themself. do you think i'm asking too much?

Monday, August 21, 2006

Training Day

Last week, I started my actual driver training in the truck with Ed. He's teaching me to drive.

Oh, the joy.

So far, these are the training issues I've had "issues" with:

1. When he speaks, it's so slowly, I want to drive a dagger into my skull. Usually, he'll start his "instructions" just as I put my foot on the clutch, getting ready to go. Now, if you have ever driven a truck or anything with a heavy clutch, you will know how difficult it is to engage it and keep it engaged for a long period of time. Usually, my thigh is trembling by the time he gets to "...ok. (pause) now you're going to (pause) put the truck into (pause) second gear...." Ahhhhhh!!!

2. He speaks softly. Not soft like a girl, but soft like a southerner; low and direct. The problem with this? I can't hear him. Why? Because there is a 470 horsepower diesel engine under my ass that vibrates the truck constantly and becomes a white noise machine, drowning out any sound that does not rise above its power. I have instructed him, if during training he doesn't speak louder, I will not answer him. If I don't hear the question fully and completely, I am just not answering. Period.

3. He tends to give directions such "turn over there," or "go that way" or "make sure your trailer is backing up in that direction..." with hand motions, instead of directional instructions like "go right. back the trailer to the left. turn at the end of this street." Um, hello? I can't LOOK at your hands! I have to look at the road, the tachometer, the speedometer and every other damned ometer on this thing. How can I possibly follow your hands AND watch what I'm doing?? Stop it.

4. If I hear him say, one more time, "Oh, it's easy. Just blah, blah, blah...." I'm going to blow a gasket. It's easy because you've been doing it for ten years; I've been doing it for ten minutes. It's not "easy" for me yet.

5. Using words like torque, engine speed, rpm's, power take-off, trans-axle and clutch brake are lost on me. Completely. Stop using them.

On the good side: He's patient, safe and knows what he's doing. He is meticulous in his approach to driving defensively, load securement, and truck operation. I know that all aspects of operating this vehicle safely, first and foremost, will be covered by him. And because of that, I will be a good driver.

I think the only thing he has not accounted for would be his own safety.

From me.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

You Know You're In A Hotel That Doesn't Have A Star Rating...

...when the person before you was such a quality, high class, seasoned traveler, that they wrote on the LAMPSHADE when they couldn't find a piece of scrap paper.

* Poor picture quality due to camera phone. Sorry!

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Who My Baby Daddy?

After watching Jerry Springer this week (Don't ask. The TV had rabbit ears and it was the only station that came in clearly...) I had to wonder, as I usually do, WHERE do they find these people?

9 shows, 11 men later...Will I find the father today? is the tagline on this particular show.

The show featured several women who were trying to find the father of their children.

One woman, who had been on the show before, was once again trying to determine the paternity of her daughter. They tested ELEVEN men. ELEVEN. One of them being her husband (who was not the father), her husband's cousin (who was also not the father) and eight other men (who also turned out to not have fathered the child) and now, the last one to be tested....Man Number Eleven.....oh, the suspense....I can't wait....she is so sure he's the father..... We (me and the whole audience) all want to know. Is he?? Isn't he??

Oh, shit! No way dawg! The eleventh man is NOT the father. Holy crap.

I guess any problems I thought I had with my life just became really, really small.

Thank God I don't have to worry about any baby....let alone a baby daddy.

Because You Never Know When You're Going To Need A Roman Candle

I just passed a twenty-four hour fireworks stand in Tennessee. Now I know it's the South, and people in the South have numerous quirks that cannot be understood by the majority of people in not only the country, but the world; but selling fireworks around the clock? Is that really necessary?

I have never found myself sitting around with friends, enjoying a late night latte or watching a movie from Blockbuster, when all of sudden I blurted out, "Hey! You know what would be really cool right now?? Fireworks! You know, a few sparklers, maybe a rocket or two and oh yeah, how about that kind that sprays out in a really cool burst of color??"

Not gonna happen.

But in the South, Bubba would be the first one to pop the top of his Budweiser and declare that he needed a Roman Candle to go along with it.

"...and daggum, isn't that thar fireworks stand in Woodchuck County open twenty four hours a day???"


Thursday, August 17, 2006

Bringing The Good Stuff

The CB crackles, "How about that driver in the white Freightliner? You got a copy?"

"Thanks for the info, driver, 'preciate it," you hear another trucker respond.

Or in the repair shop, you might catch someone saying, "Hey there driver. You the one with the yellow Pete being worked on?"

These are just some of the ways you'll hear a truck driver addressed. Solely by the moniker of Driver. Oh, you'll hear a few more choice names if you have the CB cranked up, but for the most part, you are a driver out here on the road. One of many. You never hear a real name and don't often hear any clever "handles" like the ones on TV shows like BJ and The Bear years ago.

When I got my CDL a few months ago, I joined the ranks of over three million truck drivers in this country and I was so excited! At that point, I just had the license, but now I have actually driven the truck. Today was my first day of driving on the road with Ed!! As a driver.

Brave man he was, sitting in the passenger seat while I took the position behind the wheel. Of course, since he owns this truck, I don't reckon he'll be instructing me to do anything that is going to cause it any harm and I am starting with the basics; you know, all that shifting and lane changing and squeezing through underpasses and all.

I am looking forward to learning from Ed and the other driver friends I've made out here on the road. Ed has over ten years of experience and an exemplary safety record and if I learned nothing else in the past two years I've been in this truck, it is how important being safe is. Ed takes it very seriously, as will I, now that I have a great responsibility to myself and others on the road.

I also look forward to being a part of an industry that keeps the country rolling. Something I didn't give much thought to before I got out here was where I got all my stuff. Now I know. So next time you're out shopping or looking around at all the stuff you have, I hope that after reading this, you'll remember that Trucks Bring It.

And I'm one of those "drivers" bringing it to you!

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Follow Your Heart

"Do what you feel in your heart to be right. You'll be criticized anyway." ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

L.E.A.P.

LOVE FEROCIOUSLY

This is most likely the best way to love. Ferociously, with all your heart. Unafraid of being hurt or judged. Letting it all hang out. Sharing everything you have with one special person or many cherished friends. When you have someone in your life that you feel this way about, let them know how you feel. Show them. Tell them repeatedly. Act on it daily. Allow them in. No holds barred. Exposed and raw. Give them all of yourself and welcome all they are. Ferociously.

EXLPORE RELENTLESSLY

I take this literally; the exploring part. I travel, but I love to just explore. Everything. Ask questions. Investigate what you don't know. Discover new talents. Analyze your thoughts. Delve into life's little nooks and crannies. Pick apart someone's mind. See as much through travel as you can. Read everything you can get your hands on. Talk to people, young and old. Learn something new everyday if possible. Be relentless in your exploration.

ACT NOW

Sometimes while you're deciding on what to do, the opportunity passes. Many times, you'll have another chance, but other times it is something that may have slipped away forever. All the more reason to act now. If you grab what you want when you have the chance, you can always let go if you decide it's not what you thought it to be. But what happens if you let it slip away? Do you live thinking about what could have been? What if? There really is no time like the present. You only get one life. Act now and live it to the fullest.


PLUNGE IN

When you DO decide to pursue something once you have made a decision, you must plunge. Completely. No halfsies. All or nothing. Like diving into water; immerse yourself. Get in deep. Penetrate the surface. Let it envelop you. Swirl around in it. Feel it touch every inch of your skin. Bathe. Bask. Float. Relax. But first, you must plunge.

Monday, August 14, 2006

Remembering Those In Heaven

"Often we wonder in our grief what is gained by our belief?

Although night, and morning we pray, still our joys are swept away.

And loved ones we would keep, with the dead are called to sleep.

None is wise enough to say why the wicked seem to stay, and the beautiful and good leave before we think they should.

But if death seemed always just, soon in God we’d cease to trust.

If for evil, death were meant as a bitter punishment; should the wicked only die, then heaven we seek on high.

Having none we long to see would a fearful religion be.

It is only by belief we are comforted in grief; it is only by our trust that the God we love is just.

That we bear divinely planned. Grief’s we cannot understand.”

~ Edgar A. Guest (British born American Poet whose sentimental verses were widely read. 1881-1959)

* Photo courtesy of my best friend.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Six Flags Of Horror Fly Over Texas

Today I was taken, against my will, to Six Flags Over Texas. Miraculously, I survived. Therefore, the story of the most the horrendous day of my life will follow. I have never been more aggravated or more miserable in a single day than in this one. And how utterly appropriate that it all happened in the state I despise the most; Texas.

The day began for me by waking at five thirty to get ready for a mandatory trucking-related class I had to attend. After sitting through a class so boring, it made me want to shove pencils in my eyes, my boyfriend decided we were going to Six Flags to have some fun. "Fun" was the very word he used. To describe rides. In an amusement park.

I hate rides. And I hate amusement parks.

I thought he was joking. He was SO not.

After arriving and finding a spot to park, we began the death march toward the front gate. At $45.00 a person, I found this a very expensive way to ruin a day. Thankfully, I had the mind to ask the girl at the ticket window to give me a discount. Any discount. She responded with a very lovely offer of $45.00 for both of us. Ed was excited that I saved him money! I told him that at least now I wouldn't have to feel so bad for what I knew was going to be a barrage of complaints he was going to hear. I got in for free, therefore, I'd be able to say to him, "Well, at least you didn't have to pay for me."

I won't detail all the rides we went on, but let's just say the meandering through the park of various amusements began at the Sombrero ride. Yes, sombreros. Spinning sombreros. This is where I promptly text messaged my best friend saying, "It's 9000 degrees and I'm on a fucking spinning sombrero at Six Flags". She knows me for twenty years so I knew she'd feel my pain.

This is also where I told Ed that he clearly needed a younger girlfriend. If this was his idea of fun, then he really should be dating someone younger than me. Perhaps he needed to find a cute, bubbly, fifteen year old.

With map in hand, in the oppressive heat that was strangling the very life out of me, Ed was determined to hit every major ride in the park. The first one, a bobsled sort of ride, was absolutely horrible and I am convinced I left it with a back injury. I guess I'm going to have to re-think my Olympic bobsled dreams.

With my fresh back injury hindering my walking ability, we made our way over to the famous Texas Giant. Deemed the #1 wooden roller coaster in the world (by masochists), we waited in line to give it a whirl. Looking up at this big, wooden monstrosity was enough to deter someone from riding. It looked like kindling. Oh, how I wished I had a match.

Getting into the seat proved to be the first unpleasant task. You think airline seats are small? You should have sat in this. It was like sitting in a child's high chair. Granted, I'm not a tiny girl, but still....I barely squeezed myself into it.

Then, it began. The rocking, the rickety, the clackety-clacking of the wood, and the squeaking and creaking as it climbed the first hill, before beginning its descent into hell. The ride was so fast and so violent, I thought I was going to be thrown from the rail car. I might have been, if my ass wasn't wedged into it so tightly! I knew at that moment, that the day was going to go downhill even faster than the ride did.

I felt horrible. My stomach was churning and my body was killing me. I think I had bruises on every portion of flesh that came in contact with wood. I quickly recalled why I hadn't been to an amusement park since I was twelve.

Here's my idea of what I could have done to experience the Texas Giant without paying the forty five dollar admission fee:

Go to Home Depot and buy a two by four. Then, drive into the stark heat of the desert and have someone beat the SHIT out of me with that two by four. Make sure they don't let up on the beating for at least three minutes. Hit each arm, hit my thighs, hit my hips, crack it over my back a few times and while they're at it, make sure I'm staring directly into the sun so that I feel the heat warming the blood that is building up in my skull. When the beating has ceased, shake me violently forward, almost snapping my neck but not, and then bring the whole scenario to a screeching halt by forcing me back into an upright position.


So, forget actually going on the roller coaster. Just beat the shit out of the people who want to ride it. Same thing. Same experience. Same results.

Between the hellish inferno-like heat, the lines, the screaming children, the humidity, the noise, and the rotting garbage smell in the park, the only thing that could have made this day more miserable would be to have had root canal surgery between rides...without anesthesia.

Ed narrowly escaped losing me as a girlfriend today. Even after I expressed the discomfort, nausea, and delirium that I was experiencing as a result of the over one hundred degree weather, he still wanted me to finish out the day by joining him on the last few rides in the park. Since I was trying to do something he thought was fun, since he always does things I think are fun, I felt my only choice was to continue on.

I don't really know why I agreed, but I guess I just wanted the day to be over with and my choice at that point was to either argue with him in the heat for half an hour or go on a three minute ride and try to contain my vomit in the napkin I strategically hid in my cleavage. I chose the ride and figured if I did decide to vomit, I would just turn my head slightly toward him and thank him for taking me to the park by covering him in a spray of my lunch. I've already done this once before in my life, the throwing-up-on-a-ride part. Not a pretty sight. Or smell.

As we drove home, he cheerily expressed how he thought it would be "fun" to hit as many amusement parks as we could in our travels across the country. The next on his list, he said, is Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio. I informed him that I will NEVER be going to another amusement park in my life. Ever.

In the meantime, we are going to try to synchronize our definition of "fun." If, by the end of that conversation, he doesn't clearly understand that it will never include amusement park rides that make me want to vomit, I might just be writing the next post about my new boyfriend.

Either that, or I'll be online finding him a young girlfriend to join him on the rollercoasters while I stay home drinking iced lattes!

Friday, August 11, 2006

Amarillo May Smell Like Cow Shit, But They Have Some Pretty Tasty Steaks

This week, Ed and I had a very unique dining experience; we went to the The Big Texan Steak Ranch in Amarillo, Texas for lunch. It's a place we've passed many times, seeing the billboards that line the highway enticing you to come in for a free meal, but just have never been to.

The free meal? A 72 oz. steak. Free, if you can eat it within an hour, that is. "Contestants/Diners" have to consume a shrimp cocktail, salad, baked potato, bread and a 72-oz. steak. If you can do it in less than 60 minutes, the meal is yours for free; if not, you better have $72 to hand over to the waitress.

Ed and I opted for the demure 9 oz. Ribeye, which was amazingly flavorful and worth every cent he paid for it, but we probably could have eaten another few ounces. It was definitely just one of those quirky western places that you have to go to once in your life just so you can say you've "been there."

Well, now we've "been there." And, we plan on going back.

So if you can take the smell of cow shit while driving through town to get a good meal, you really should give it a shot.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

The Roaring Twenties

Today is my mother's birthday. To commemorate the day, I dug up a picture of her when she was twenty years old.

Happy Birthday, Mommy!

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Taking A Lesson From An Eleven Year Old

Yesterday, I was reading a Dear Abby column where she was talking about how she firmly believes children are able to feel love for each other. Her column was in response to a letter a mother wrote, who thought it was inappropriate for her 11-year-old son to tell his girlfriend that he loves her.

Several people wrote in with their opinions of such young love. This is my favorite:

Dear Abby,

I am now 91. You gave that mother the right advice. I wish someone had told my mother the same. She scoffed at my "puppy love," but it has endured.

Eighty years ago I fell in love with Margaret Ruprect back in Dubuque, Iowa. I can still remember her golden hair shining in the sun and her laughter. I only got to kiss her once, but I'll never, ever forget her. If she's still living, I hope she sees this letter and knows I still love her.

Bob C.
Atascadero, CA

Well. If that shouldn't teach us all a lesson. Even at ninety-one, this man is open to finding love. It is sought after and needed, whether you're eleven or nearing the end of your life. Perhaps when found, it shouldn't be let go.

Knowing this man still has feelings for a woman he kissed once, eighty years ago, I'd say his story is a pretty good example of the power of love; even the pure, innocent love that a child can feel. Typically, I'd be the first to say Oh, they're too young to know what love really is but as an adult, I often find that we push away the feelings of love we sometimes have for someone because we are trying to be "practical" or "realistic" or making sure something is "perfect" before we even get into it.

Maybe we should just let it be what it is. Pure. There. Available. Waiting to be found.

Just don't let it wait eighty years.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

You Do The Math

This is precisely why we don't get fuel in California. Our tanks hold three hundred gallons. If you don't have to, or don't live here, why would you buy fuel here??

Oh, and another little tidbit, the state of California is predicting up to a 20-cent gas price hike due to the closure of the Prudhoe Bay oil field. Lovely, just lovely.

Why don't they just figure out a way to make vehicles run on diamond dust?

Monday, August 07, 2006

The Land Of Fruits, Nuts And Flakes

We recently stopped at Casa de Fruta in California, which has the best selection of produce, nuts, candies, etc. that I have ever seen. I was so tempted to buy a little bit of everything and even ship some stuff to my friends and family in other parts of the country!!


We taste tested dried fruits, nuts, jellies, wine; what a selection of tasty treats. If you did enough sampling, you could have a little bit of everything and leave with a full belly after cruising through the produce stand and candy section and an empty wallet after hitting the gift shop.

We did a little bit of both.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

Holy Cow!

Driving through Wyoming this week, I happened to find myself staring out the window at all the cows; which got me thinking...

How is it possibly that we have enough cows to provide all the beef we consume? I have seen cows all over the United States, yet with the millions of people we have and all of the beef needed, I don't see how it works out that we have enough full grown cows to provide us with all of it.

Think about it. McDonald's serves billions of hamburgers a year. BILLIONS. Then we have Wendy's, Burger King, In and Out Burger, Jack In The Box, Sonic, Backyard Burger, Fuddruckers, Hooters, Chili's, TGIFriday's, Red Robin, etc. And that's only burger joints.

What about all the steak places? Outback Steakhouse, Texas Roadhouse, Sizzler, Longhorn Steakhouse, Cattle Baron's, McMahon's Steakhouse, Ruth's Chris, McCormick & Schmidt, Applebee's, etc.

These are only a handful of places that I can think of off the top of my head. There are hundreds of other places that sell beef products. Las Vegas alone has thousands of buffet lines snaking around casinos with people waiting for beef to be carved right onto their plates!

It just seems impossible that we have that many cows ready to become food for us. Ed and I pondered about this for a while and just didn't think it seemed feasible. And let's not forget about my favorite form of cow, the baby kind; otherwise known as veal. Milk fed is my preference. How many of those do we have crusing around the pastures?

So what do you think? How many hamburgers do you think one can get out of a cow??

Saturday, August 05, 2006

Text Me

Is it good from what you've read?

Remember, Ant was skinny, bald and in SPANDEX when I met him, sober. LOL Relax!

I don't know. I am not feeling good now.

Absolutely hands down! There has never been anyone that is even in the same league as you!! I am going to have to touch myself now.

I LOVE GW.

And I Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love.
Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. You!

U are good luck.

In africa call me later.

I have barely begun but I love everything by her. But its a romance novel.

I'm laughing out loud, and THIS is one of the many reasons I love you!

Hell NO! And he thinks he's dying. LOL!!!

Please. He must have fucking 50 lives for all the times he thought he was dying!

Friday, August 04, 2006

Crab Infested Thoughts

I've been a little crabby this week and am finding it hard to organize my thoughts. Hopefully, next week will be better since I have the weekend to get my shit together.

Here's to less crab in the coming week!

Thursday, August 03, 2006

The Chicks Of Dixie

I recently saw the new video by the Dixie Chicks for their song, Not Ready To Make Nice. This song, recently released, is in response to all the shit they got for a comment made by Natalie Maines while in concert in Europe a few years ago.

Personally, I applaud them for not backing down. For not cowering and skulking with their tail between their legs. They pointedly said they are supportive of our troops. Men and women putting their lives on the line to ensure our freedoms; speech being one of those freedoms.

Blindly following a leader one does not believe in is not required to live in this country. If you want to blindly follow a leader, ask no questions, stay uneducated about what is really going on and being led into a world where you have no say and no choice, then there are plenty of countries for you to choose from. Go live there.


But until you do, it really isn't necessary to make nice.


Not Ready To Make Nice

Forgive, sounds good.
Forget, I'm not sure I could.
They say time heals everything,
But I'm still waiting

I'm through, with doubt,
There's nothing left for me to figure out,
I've paid a price, and I'll keep paying

I'm not ready to make nice,
I'm not ready to back down,
I'm still mad as hell
And I don't have time
To go round and round and round
It's too late to make it right
I probably wouldn't if I could
Cause I'm mad as hell
Can't bring myself to do what it is
You think I should

I know you said
Why can't you just get over it,
It turned my whole world around
and i kind of like it

I made by bed, and I sleep like a baby,
With no regrets and I don't mind saying,
It's a sad sad story
That a mother will teach her daughter
that she ought to hate a perfect stranger.
And how in the world
Can the words that I said
Send somebody so over the edge
That they'd write me a letter
Saying that I better shut up and sing
Or my life will be over

I'm not ready to make nice,
I'm not ready to back down,
I'm still mad as hell
And I don't have time
To go round and round and round
It's too late to make it right
I probably wouldn't if I could
Cause I'm mad as hell
Can't bring myself to do what it is
You think I should

I'm not ready to make nice,
I'm not ready to back down,
I'm still mad as hell
And I don't have time
To go round and round and round
It's too late to make it right
I probably wouldn't if I could
Cause I'm mad as hell
Can't bring myself to do what it is
You think I should

Forgive, sounds good.
Forget, I'm not sure I could.
They say time heals everything,
But I'm still waiting

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Doors Opening And Closing

All endings are also beginnings.
We just don't know it at the time.
~ Mitch Albom

I came across this quote the other day and thought it was very appropriate for this period of time since I've been pondering about my own life. Doors opening and closing really is what it is all about. Ending one thing and moving on to another. Finishing up one task and starting something else. Where will it all take me?

As I embark on a new career, I feel a little unsettled because I don't know what will come of it. Will it take me where I think I want to go? Will it provide me with the freedom and money that I want? I see an opportunity for these things, in addition to making new friends, so that excites me, yet I still wonder what the future holds.

We never know what's going to happen when one thing ends. We fear it a little bit, don't want to be out of our comfort zone, but if you really think about it, how did everything turn out once something ended? What was the beginning of the next phase in your life?

When we leave a job, we never know where the next one will bring us. When we end a relationship, the next one may just be just what we needed at that time. When a friend doesn't return your call and you drift apart, it sometimes leads you to another friend who offers so much more.

There is a great amount of fear in the unknown. Excitement and risk yes, but still a bit of fear. I have several friends whose relationships just ended and of the three, each has had a different outcome. One has met her soulmate and is head over heels in love, another is playing the field and having a ball and the third is concentrating on herself.

For me, I know that right now, I can't see what the endings and beginnings mean. As a good friend recently told me, "It will be known in time."

And time is something I have plenty of right now. It's just the waiting that kills me.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Can You Hear My Happiness?

My nephew loves to snuggle up next to you on the couch when watching TV or a movie. He will take your arms and wrap them around him like a human blanket as he burrows into any nook in your body he can find; it’s like he wants to become part of you to enhance his comfort.

This week, he was all cuddled up next to my mother on the couch when he turned to her and said, "Nana, I hear your heart and it sounds happy."

She responded with, "My heart is always happy when I am around you."

And he said, "I know. I can hear it through your chest."


Now if that isn't the best sound in the world, I just don't know what is.