Hitchcockesque

When You Can't See The View Because The Hooters Are In The Way

Today I saw a billboard on I-635 in Garland, TX for a new restaurant called Twin Peaks.

Please tell me they're kidding.

The tag line is "Eats. Drinks. Scenic Views."

Since Texas, being a relatively flat state, has no peaks to speak of, we know the "eats and drinks" aren't the draw here. The concept is about as pathetic as a guy trying to tell you with a straight face that he goes to Hooter's for the wings. Uh huh.

On second hand, maybe I should get in on this dining establishment phenomenon; except mine will have a twist.

I'm going to call it Johnson's. "The place to go for great food, cold drinks and a HARD time."

The Department Of Mindless Vegetables

Is there a federal mandate that requires The Department of Motor Vehicle to staff their offices with lifeless, rude, incompetent people?

I imagine the hiring process to be one where applicants are given a series of tasks to complete and the one who finishes last and with the most errors, gets the job. Oh, and if they have an expression of disgust on their face the whole time, they get extra pay or something. The key is to show the interviewer how they are able to appear as if they are so absolutely horrified should a customer actually expect them to do their job; and if their body language indicates that they have better things to do than their job and that you are a mere interruption keeping them from taking their lunch break, I am sure that particular person will be hired on right away; probably as a supervisor.

This details my most recent experience with DMV:

After waiting two hours for my test and paperwork to be processed, I was told that the photo processing machine wasn't working and I would have to either wait, come back or go to another office, just ten miles away, to have them print my license. OK, a little inconvenient, but not horrible.

When I got to the other office, their first response was "Sorry, we can't do that here." I had the absolute balls to question the woman who gave me that response. And when I asked why, she told me "Cause my supervisor said so." (neck roll) OK, great. Let me speak to your Supervisor. (eye roll and big sigh)

Well, when they realized they actually could do it; (but really didn't want to), I was told I would have to take a number, fill out another form (identical to the one I was holding in my hand) and wait. Possibly another two hours. "Sorry, that's policy." she said, with a bwah ha ha ha ha, I hold all the power tone.

Being told that I had to wait again to have them push the "print" button was like being told you can't get breakfast at McDonald's because it's 11:02 am and they stop serving breakfast at 11. I stood at the counter watching the woman print out everyone else's license knowing she could do the same with mine. The information was in the computer, she just had to bring my face up on the screen and print it. But noooooo. I needed a number for that.

The rude supervisor, who I was apparently inconveniencing, contacted the first office telling them, "I doan know whah y'all be sending dem people over here, we done got enough people waitin' here, linin' the walls and sitting everywhere up in here already." as if I wasn't even standing there. I guess I should have felt bad for her that after having waited two hours at the other office, I had the absolute nerve to come over to her office and bother her to do her job.

She learned during her phone call that the original office had their machine up and running, so I went back there to have them print out my license. Good God. By now, my ordeal was going into its fourth hour. FOUR. Although I have never in my life been to a motor vehicle office that was both friendly and efficient, these two offices in Memphis, TN had to be the worst by far.

I think comparing them to vegetables might be insulting.

To the vegetable, of course.

Aten HUT!!

Someone is very good at their job. Aligning garbage pails like this is surely evidence that said person must have been in the military; I'm sure you could bounce a quarter off their sheets, too. Hoo-rah!

Don't We All?

* Picture of Happy Bunny backpack taken at the Five Below store in Wilmington, DE with my trusty little camera phone.

Eddie Acts Like A Five Year Old Friday

Text Me

Text messages I have sent and received:

Can you fall in love with someone you never met?

Undernourished camels do not have humps.

No. Bring me some toilet paper so I can make a turban and some hand towels with red lipstick smeared all over them so I can make my Osama costume.

Sex offenders not allowed costumes, no candy giving, no yard displays.

Yeah, but the ambassador to the restroom construction/remodel told me that the woman’s is being re-done. Whew! I can die now!

OK you loon, when you get here.

This room has lots of table space and a circular desk.

It really struck me how much I miss chatting every other hour.

Bitch ola.

That was fast! Your check is filled out and ready to go.

I was. Now I am done. They don’t have any Hostess products.

Why don’t you come in here when you get up after you greet the day.

Dork!

Pahtootie!! What are you doing?

Ewwww – Assmunchausen syndrome.

Dance you fool!!

Meet me at the showers.

Is she Kuntry?

I hate when the door crack is so big people can see in.

Maybe. I will loon when I get there.

Two grape sodas with a big cup of ice please!

No, dork. But I knew this guy who always blamed Sprites.

Not Falling For Winter Yet

There are still some brave ones out there, hanging on till the very last minute.

A Fine Cargo Of Experiences And Memories

"A man's age is something impressive, it sums up his life: maturity reached slowly and against many obstacles, illnesses cured, griefs and despairs overcome, and unconscious risks taken; maturity formed through so many desires, hopes, regrets, forgotten things, loves. A man's age represents a fine cargo of experiences and memories." ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (Wartime Writings 1939-1944, translated from French by Norah Purcell)

Today my step-father turned eighty-five. Happy 85th Franchi!

It's All In The Cards

I got a lovely email the other day from a reader in Canada (oh, how I love Canada and the Canadians!!), who sent this picture saying "every time I sit and play this children's game with my five year old daughter this card reminds me totally of you."

She likened it to my profile pic and noticed the similarity in an illustrated, cartoony sort of way. I just love it, although I don't know if I look as cool as Carmen does in her sunglasses and flippy hair, but we are both sporting cute little barrettes.

When I was younger and all my friends were getting married, I used to joke that they were going to put my picture on the cards they use for the game of Old Maid.

I don't know what this game is, but I'm thinking it's way better than Old Maid!

The Queen Is Bleak

Taken at a train yard in Queens, New York.

We Would All Go Down Together

At the end of this post you'll fing the lyrics for "Goodnight Saigon," a song by Billy Joel. Every time I hear this song, I think of our soldiers and I picture a slideshow of faces; the faces of the fallen. I am most disturbed by the young ones.

Although this song was written for the soldiers of Vietnam, the music is haunting and it makes me feel like crying when I hear it, knowing that people are dying for me.

In honor of Veteran's Day, I'd like to thank all of our very brave (former and present) members of the Armed Forces who keep our country safe. I hope our administration does the right thing and brings you home soon.

The original video I posted was disabled by Sony so click to here to listen to "Goodnight Saigon" and follow along with the lyrics:



We met as soul mates
On Parris Island
We left as inmates
From an asylum
And we were sharp
As sharp as knives
And we were so gung ho
To lay down our lives
We came in spastic
Like tameless horses
We left in plastic
As numbered corpses
And we learned fast
To travel light
Our arms were heavy
But our bellies were tight
We had no home front
We had no soft soap
They sent us Playboy
They gave us Bob Hope
We dug in deep
And shot on sight
And prayed to Jesus Christ
With all our might
We had no cameras
To shoot the landscape
We passed the hash pipe
And played our Doors tapes
And it was dark
So dark at night
And we held on to each other
Like brother to brother
We promised our mothers we'd write
And we would all go down together
We said we'd all go down together
Remember Charlie
Remember Baker
They left their childhood
On every acre
And who was wrong?
And who was right?
It didn't matter in the thick of the fight
We held the day
In the palm
Of our hand
They ruled the night
And the night
Seemed to last as long as six weeks
On Parris Island
We held the coastline
They held the highlands
And they were sharp
As sharp as knives
They heard the hum of our motors
They counted the rotors
And waited for us to arrive
And we would all go down together
We said we'd all go down together
Yes we would all go down together

Dining In Lancaster County

This is a diner in Lancaster County, PA that Eddie and I sometimes frequent. Click on photo to see the picture in full.

The Italian Death March

I come from an extremely social background. I have tons of friends and an intensely gregarious family who are prone to large gatherings; an invite to dinner can mean several hours set aside for eating alone. Being embraced by the family is a goal all of us children have had for our significant others and/or friends. My stepfather is the hardest nut to crack; so if he likes you, you're in. And he just LOOOOOVVVEEES Eddie.

Ditto for my three nephews; the way they came flying out of the house and soaring into his lap the day we visited, was all the evidence I needed. My mother said that my youngest nephew, who is three and a half, factors Ed into all of his play scenarios. "Nana. I'm going to play outside and dig. When I'm digging up all the dirt, Eddie is going to run the backhoe, okay?" or "Nana. Next time we make pastini do you think we can make some more extra for Eddie?" or "Nana. When is Aunt Sleen coming home? Is Eddie coming too?" and "When Eddie gets here, can he play on the compooter with me?"

Eddie doesn't come from a very social family, so this is all new to him. Like my sister-in-law when she finally settled in to the family, he's gotten past the deer in the headlights look. He now knows that when aunts, uncles, cousins, my closest friends or my Mom kiss him the minute he walks in the door, it's a good thing. And when he gets a kiss and hug goodbye, sometimes several since it usually takes at least an hour to actually say goodbye, that's also a good thing. Now he's not stiff when the arms fly around him for a big hug; he actually hugs back. Every once in a while, when departing from a family visit, I hear him say "love you too!" in response to whoever last professed their love to him.

He is really realizing how extremely important the social aspect is to me. To us. I couldn't survive without it. I love how we are all in each others business and how we love to know what's going on in each others lives. At any given moment, Eddie and I have a place to go for a meal - between my mother in Arizona, my best friend in Nashville and my three Aunts in New York, we can get a smokin' great meal at several points along the way. Same thing for a place to lay our heads, if needed.

There is not a day that passes that I don't talk to one of my friends or someone in my family. Eddie is so aware of the desperate need for us to connect that just the other day he said, "So I guess the worst thing you can do to an Italian is take away all of their friends, huh?"

I never thought of it that way, but yeah, it would be. I would probably consider it a fate worse than death.

Convexly Jackson

A country road in Jackson, Tennessee glistens in the rain.

Just When You Thought There Wasn't Another Ounce Of Fun To Be Had Or Another Drop Of Information To Be Remembered, It Doubles And Triples

Today I took a test to add the Doubles and Triples endorsement to my CDL. This means I will be qualified to drive the vehicles seen in the photos below. Well....qualified might be a little too strong of a word; let's just say licensed.



One website reported, "triple-trailer trucks can operate in 16 U.S. states (Alaska, Arizona, Colorado, Idaho, Indiana Toll Road, Kansas Turnpike, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, North Dakota, Ohio Turnpike, Oklahoma, Oregon, South Dakota, and Utah) and in Manitoba, Canada. In all these locations, triples share a common denominator: they have the best safety record of any vehicle on the highways. This is not the exception, but the rule, according to official state records. For example, after a thorough review of their experience with triples, the Oregon Public Utility Commission announced that triple-trailer trucks were three times safer than other vehicles on the road."

And more importantly, according the Big Dogs, the Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration, in their 2004 Large Truck Crash Overview report, "...doubles (truck tractors pulling a semi-trailer and a full trailer) were only 3% of trucks involved in both fatal and nonfatal crashes and triples (tractors pulling three trailers) accounted for less than 0.5% of all trucks involved."

Well. My mother will certainly be happy to hear that.

My New Favorite Song

Through Glass by Stone Sour - just click and listen.

Hail To Our Beautiful Maine Coon Mascot

This is my mother's cat, Paydee. She is demonstrating, in fine form, exactly what Eddie and I have been doing for the last four days while visiting our parents in Arizona and New Mexico. "The Paidster," as the grandchildren call her, likes to eat and sleep; she spends most of her day trying to find a place to nap.

Hence the reason she is our mascot.

Ed's parents have a dog, a cute little Jack-A-Poo (Jack Russell/Poodle mix) named Mischa. Mischa has the boundless energy of a five year old with A.D.D. who has clearly missed several doses of Ritalin. If you don't pay close attention to her when she's not in her little doggy cage, you might catch her out of the corner of your eye, coming straight for your face like a flying squirrel with her tongue hanging out of her mouth and her little doggy claws ready to embrace your head while she licks the wax out of your ear.

Hence the reason she is not our mascot.

Contemplating Flight

Working Man

Eddie, text messaging me while waiting for our train wheels to be unloaded.

Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay

The Bay Bridge in San Francisco, California.

One Idiot At A Time

When I was a little girl, my Grandfather used to recite a saying in Italian that included the words "non parlate" (you don't speak) and "gallina" (hen).

Even though gallina means "hen," he always used the word "chicken" when translating it into English and in full, it roughly meant "don't talk until the chicken pees." Since chickens don't pee, he was essentially saying "keep your mouth shut, we don't want to hear from you."

When growing up, we learned a lot of Italian this way; by dissecting what the adults were saying when speaking it in front of us. They would often use Italian when they didn't want us to know what they were talking about or when wanting to curse or impart some sort of wisdom that they thought just sounded better than it did in English.

As far as their style of Italian, it was never the “formal” or "proper" Italian; they always used the local dialects from Bari or Naples, where the family comes from. Often, one side of the family wouldn't know what the other was saying and one word could cause a war if it didn’t come across right.

In instances like that, where a disagreement occurred or everyone started talking at once, my Grandfather would say, "One idiot at a time. I'll go first."

Going first is fine, I guess…

As long as you're not waiting for the chicken to pee before you begin speaking.

Trick Or Treating With All Ten Toes

Eddie said if I ever propped my feet up on him again, I'd lose a toe.

She's Still Learning

My friend Kim posed the following question to me today in email:

"Tomorrow Ty has a football game at the base of Mt. Lemmon at 7 but we have to be there by 5:30. Would you like to come with me???? We would have fun."

I responded with,

"Um, no, I would not like to go to a KID's football game with you - that's combining two things I hate - children and sports. Why would I want to do that???"

I might as well have added,

"Why don't you just invite me to a smokers only bible study hosted by Bill O'Reilly, held in the middle of July in Death Valley, California? Oh, and maybe you can serve souse sandwiches. Ooo, that would be fun."

What Happens When Time Falls Into The Wrong Hands

Isn't this guy adorable?

OK, so I'm not much of a big deal animal lover - in fact, if this cutie was any bigger, I might have clubbed him and turned him into a fur coat, but since he would have barely made a respectable hat, I let him go. He was a city groundhog, from Chicago, so I guess he was used to people around which is most likely why I, at two feet away, didn't deter him from his acorn nibbling. He was so engrossed in his find, he didn't notice me snapping his picture. If only he knew what having his picture taken was going to lead to.

Which bring me to Ed.

Since I've been driving more, it allows Ed a whole lot more time to putz around on the computer. And when he has all that time on his hands, he tends to get creative. And by creative, I mean dabbling in projects worthy of old MAD magazines and bad sci-fi movies.

And with that time, this is what he did to my perfectly adorable groundhog:

This Could Be The Day You Have A Date With Destiny

My friend Lynn and I were recently talking about what makes people leave the house looking like crap. You know who you are.

It all started with me telling her about my hair and how I'm at a frustrating in-between stage. It's going from my short summer cut, to a little bit longer style. I really liked the short hair, as it was easy to style and I could make it look cute in an instant. Now, it's pulled up on the top of my head in a butterfly bobby pin, with a poof that is not exactly what I envisioned when I began styling it this morning. It's just eh, not really that great.

Lynn said, "Less than perfect?"

I responded, "Exactly. And I hate less than perfect."

"It's just lazy," she said.

I agree with that completely. When you don't take time to fix yourself up, it's lazy. My situation this morning with the hair is not laziness, since I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to get it to do something, but still - it's less than perfect.

I don't understand how people go out of their house without taking the time to do something with themselves. Men can almost be forgiven since they can throw on a ball cap or sport the unshaven look in a rugged, handsome manner.

But women? This is not the time to be lazy, ladies. As my grandmother used to say, "You never know who you're going to meet." I've heard her voice in my head my entire life saying that, and I've always made sure I left the house looking presentable. Even more famous than my tiny Italian grandmother would be Coco Chanel, who said, " “I don't understand how a woman can leave the house without fixing herself up a little - if only out of politeness. And then, you never know, maybe that's the day she has a date with destiny. And it's best to be as pretty as possible for destiny.”
Four of my biggest pet peeves are:

1. Women who pull their hair back into a sloppy ponytail...tufts or lumps are sticking out in what should otherwise be a smooth span of hair, pulled into a nice ponytail holder or barrette.

2. Unwashed, greasy hair. No excuse.

3. No makeup. Unless you are Heidi Klum or 17 years old with a peaches and cream complexion, you need some makeup. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Mascara and lipgloss can even save the Camilla Parker-Bowles' of the world from looking completely hideous.

4. Sloppy Clothing. Torn, stained, baggy, pilly, mismatched or out of style. Throw away the leggings from the 80's and get rid of your boyfriend's dingy gray drawstring sweatpants with the hole in the knee. They don't look good.

I am just not a big fan of the "I'm just running out to the store, nobody's going to see me" mentality. Inevitably, you see someone you know. And most likely, it's someone who you wish would have seen you in a better light; your boyfriend's ex-girlfriend, your husbands ex-wife, or the guy from the video store you've been scoping out and flirting with. Whoever it is, you're going to wish you could disappear the moment you run into them.

So the lesson is this: Take a little extra time to get ready when you go out. Pull your hair back neatly or put on a baseball cap. Wear mascara and lipgloss. Do not wear the t-shirt with the stain on it because you think "no one is going to see me and besides, it's only Home Depot," and do not wear anything you wouldn't want to be photographed in.

Remember: Today could be your date with destiny. You'll want to be looking your best for that.

Alabama's Greatest Showplace

The Saenger Theatre in downtown Mobile, Alabama.

Forever Yours

Forever.

The word paralyzes me.

Anything that I have to think of as being "forever" makes me want to run. It's really unrealistic, because most of these things are not forever, just typically require long term committment. That's the part that makes me uncomfortable.

Getting a college degree? OMG, I don't want to be a dental hygeniest forever.

Moving in with a boyfriend? I can't imagine dating a guy who works at ABC Construction forever.

Signing a contract at work? Hell no, I don't want to be involved with this project forever.

Buying a house? That means I have to live in this town forever?

Dieting? I don't want to be eating cottage cheese and carrot sticks forever.

Having kids? Shit. Those things you have to take care of forever.

I think that's why I like the lifestyle I have so much; nothing is forever.

But lately, Eddie and I have been talking about buying a house or property somewhere, to establish our little homestead. The options we have are overwhelming and the idea of settling somewhere makes me think I'll be there forever. And what if I change my mind, which is something I do often.

My friend said that I have to start thinking about what I want to do, commit to it and just do it. Even the thought of that is giving me hives. I have to decide on something? Shit. She knows I'm a Libra; we're very indecisive. In my mind, I have forever to decide.

Hmm...in that respect, maybe forever isn't such a bad thing.

At Your Service

This morning, my friend Lynn called me to come to her rescue; she wanted to know if I was on the computer and if I was, can I please help her find a place that sells cowboy hats.

I'm on the road. In Oklahoma.

She lives in Nashville.
Hellooooo???
She knows I'm always on this damn computer and because of that, she knew I'd be the one able to help her find this information in a matter of seconds, so she called with her request.

You know, this isn't the first time I've come to her rescue. I think I'm going to start charging her.


*Photo of mystery cowgirl taken on the beach in Cape Cod, MA

Walking Into Another World

Today while waiting to unload in Washington, DC, I went for a walk. I had mapped out the shortest route to the nearest Starbuck's and headed out while Ed sat in the truck. After crossing several of The District's alphabet soup of streets, I quickly crossed H and I Streets and wound up on K Street, smack in the center of Chinatown.

Gazing up at the Friendship Arch, the largest such archway in the world, erected to celebrate the friendship between Washington, DC and its sister city of Bejing, China, I knew I had come to a crossroads. As one would expect in such an international setting, a Starbucks rose before my very eyes, complete with the name scrawled in Asian lettering:

As I leisurely sipped my latte and munched on my Maple Oat Nut scone, I listened to conversations and honking horns as I stood on the corner, watching everyone scurry around me. My walk had been invigorating and the people gazing was a treat.

I arrived back at the truck refreshed and happy, as I had gotten in a walk consisting of about three miles and got to snap some pictures as well. Ed, on the other hand, was still waiting for the truck to be unloaded.

Since I had a captive audience, I showed him my pictures and told him of my little adventure; including the unusual discussion I had about travel with a toothless old woman on the street who stopped me specifically to ask, "what exactly are you taking pictures of?"

Red Fish, Blue Fish. One Fish, Two Fish.

Normally, I do not write about politics. I rarely even talk about them; mostly because I find them to be an incredibly stupid waste of time. I don’t believe in the term “non-partisan” and really don’t even believe that voting counts for much anymore. But, I am tired of hearing from the monumental pile of shit that’s running our country these days - the conservative, Republicans who seem to think their way is the “right” way.

Um, hello? Are you people paying attention to what’s going on in your camp? Do you read your own newspapers? The Mark Foley scandal? Rush Limbaugh, with his three failed marriages and drug addiction? The Sara Evans divorce announcement? Who, by the way I love – but she’s included here because of her husband and his touting of family values, marriage vows and Christianity as reasons for keeping his family together and his life clean. I’ve had enough of the hypocrisy.

In an article I was recently reading, it opened with, “If the blue states are sinkholes of moral decay, as right-wing pundits insist, how come red states lead the nation in violent crime, divorce, illegitimacy, and incarceration, among other evils?” Hmmm. Interesting.

Imagine our surprise when Ed and I, after spending some time in Indiana (red state) searching for a home and/or property to buy, found out that the town we were looking at, according to our research and the help of the National Sex Offender Public Registry, produced 136 registered sex offenders. In one zip code. I can only imagine where all the unregistered ones are hiding.

In addition to that, after talking with the waitress at the local “kountry kitchen” type dining establishment, we found out not much was being done about it. She said that she waits on the local cops daily and the most they do, when finding these pedophiles and sex offenders hanging out at the local park “watching” the kids, is pick them up and take them right back to their homes, which doesn’t seem to do much good since they wind up back at the park within hours.

And this is in America’s heartland, in the center of the pool of righteous red that covers our nation. I did another search, compiling the zip codes I lived in while residing in New York, Seattle and Los Angeles and came up with only 71 hits. In five different zip codes. In towns surrounding metro urban areas, one of which was Hollywood. So it’s extremely unsettling to think that the town with the beautiful, tree lined streets in the heartland of America didn’t measure up in that very important respect.

Although I am extremely critical and just as opinionated, I really don’t care what you do in the privacy of your own home or in your life. I have no problem with gay people (getting married or otherwise), I don’t care if you want to dress up in costumes and role play, I couldn't care less if you suck oxygen from tanks for health reasons, don’t eat pork for religious reasons or practice Wicca for personal reasons; I might think it’s strange, but ultimately I do not care.

But when it comes to children (even though I don’t have any) being hunted by sexual predators, I have a problem. With all the random crime people are subject to these days, where they fear going to the post office, grocery store or school, adding sexual (or any other) crimes against children or teens and worrying about whether I'm going to be abducted and raped going out to get the mail, is not something I really want to deal with.

So when I hear a hypocritical political figure telling me that the place I choose to live or the choices I make aren’t morally upstanding or in some way show that liberal, Democratic people are the cause of the fall of a society, I first laugh and second, wish they would do more research before letting the lies spew from their mouths.

Here are some of the statistics the article produced. I’ve highlighted the red and blue states respectively:

10 states with the highest incarceration rates in 2003:
LA, MS, TX, OK, AL, SC, GA, MO, AZ, DE

10 states with the highest female incarceration rates in 2003:
MS, OK, LA, TX, MT, ID, AZ, AL, NV, CO

10 states with the highest number of executions in 2004:
TX, OH, OK, VA, NC, SC, AL, FL, GA, NV

15 states with the highest rates of death by firearms in 2003:
AK, LA, NM, WY, NV, AL, MS, MT, AZ, AR, SC, TN, WV, GA, KY

15 states with the highest rates of suicide in 2003:
WY, AK, NV, MT, NM, ID, OR, CO, UT, AZ, WV, OK, AR, SD, KY

11 states with the highest grossing gamily markets:
NV, NJ, MS, IN, LA, IL, MO, MI, IA, CO, SD

10 states with the highest divorce rates in 2004:
NV, AR, WY, ID, WV, AL, KY, OK, TN, FL

10 states with the highest illegitimacy rates in 2003:
NM, LA, MS, DE, AZ, SC, FL, NV, GA, AR

15 states with the highest percentage of obesity:
MS, AL, WV, TN, LA, AR, KY, TX, IN, MI, OH, SC, MO, OK, GA

10 “smartest” states 2004-05:
VT, CT, MA, NJ, ME, MN, VA, WI, MT, NY

Obviously, people with different ways of thinking reside in all of these states, but when an entire region seems to go in one direction, and it's a direction people were steered into by "twenty-plus years of conservative propoganda" as the article states, you start to wonder.

Perhaps there is a good reason the color red typically signifies danger.

Laundromats And Grocery Stores Aren't The Only Places To Hunt For Men

Eddie and I visited Cabela's today in Wheeling, West Virginia. This store, featuring outdoor merchandise, has a 175,000 square foot showroom!!

In addition to all the fishing, hunting, camping and outdoor gear you can think of, they also had several displays of animals that made a little visit to the taxidermist before they were put on display. Both educational and quite entertaining, the animals are museum quality - absolutely fantastic specimens, set up in realistic re-creations of their natural habitats. I was quite impressed.

If you're not interested in looking at those animals, there are several others you ladies might be interested in. I noticed that the male to female ratio was quite high. The men outnumbered the women at least 10 to 1.

So girls, listen up....if you don't have your own Eddie, like I do, you might want to check out the local outdoor super store to find a handsome, virile, manly man for your very own.

The only problem I forsee is being a sportsman's widow once hunting season comes; which isn't really too much of a problem, it'll actually give you more time to get your camouflage camisole ready for when your man comes home!

Ten Reasons Today

Ten reasons I love my Eddie:

10. He always wakes me up with sweet kisses.

9. He listens to all my celebrity gossip updates and tries very hard not to roll his eyes.

8. He is a great kisser. GREAT. GREAT. GREAT.

7. He massages my feet, back and hands, even if I don't ask.

6. He thinks I'm beautiful, sexy and fun.

5. He is patient, loving, kind, honest, generous, loyal, smart and respectful.

4. He is handsome, with a great head of hair and the twinkliest blue eyes I have ever gazed into.

3. He is a great driver, doesn't panic in emergencies and always makes me feel safe on the road.

2. He will snake the truck into the teeniest parking lot just to get me an iced latte.

and the number one reason I love Eddie today...

1. He loves me.

Fight The Moth

Ed and I were laying in bed the other night, talking about our day, pondering the houses we had found online, discussing the latest movie we saw, etc.

He was busting my chops, teasing me about something when I said to him, "You know, you are really lucky to be in bed with me right now. There are people who would be line up to be in your position. You would have to fight them off."

He said, "Fight the moth??"

And this is precisely why I have fodder for discussion when I'm talking to my girlfriends about men and the ginormous communication gaps we have to endure.

Photograph It If You Think You May Never See It Again

Photo taken by my nephew, just moments before he ate them.

Everyone Is Doing It

My mother always seems to make some "discovery" while she's out and about and thinks that because she just saw it, that it just became popular.

Recent example: While out with a friend at a local dining establishment, they came across fruit smoothees. So on our next phonecall, she went on and on about how delicious they were and how "...they're so popular these days, everyone's doing it."

Uh, Mom, hate to break it to you but fruit smoothees have been around since the days when Jane Fonda was still making work out videos. On Beta.

It just amuses me that she's into something that "everyone's doing" when she was, for so many years, the advocate of "just because everyone's doing it, doesn't mean you have to do it too."

Oh how her tune changes when she finds something like a tasty fruit smoothee to jump on the band wagon about.

Zig Zag Wisconsin Color

Sometimes Identity Theft Can SAVE You Money

So, Ed gets a call today from the Fraud Department at his credit card company, saying there has been some unusually high activity on his card, which alerted them to possible fraud.

They explain that they noticed several out of state purchases, some totaling more than $100 in one transaction. Ed is asked to verify some information to assure the customer service rep that he is who he states he is and when done, she begins going through the charges she said were posted this week.

She starts to rattle them off:

$33.00 at Chili’s…

Yep.

$9.00 at Dunkin’ Donuts….

Yep.

$199.52 at Travel Centers of America…

Yep – oil change.

$14.00 at Starbucks…

Yep.

$19.68 at Waldenbooks...

Umm Hmm.

$18.08 at the Flying J...

Yep.

$56.35 at The Outback….

Yep.

$27.42 at Bob Evan’s….

Yep.

$14.00 at Barnes and Noble….

Uh huh.

$137.39 at Interstate Connections…

Yep – wireless headset I’m talking to you on right now.

$9.00 again at Dunkin’ Donuts….

Yep, that's mine.

$632.00 at Travel Centers of America...

Yep, fuel.

$3.59 at Walgreen's...

Yep.

$23.01 at Sbarro’s….

Yep, me again.

At this point, I’m laughing thinking that this woman must think all he does is travel around the country, eat and just buy random stuff. Come to think of it, I guess that is what we do.

He gets these calls every once in a while since he has a fraud alert option on his account. Being all over the country flashing your debit card can be cause for concern; I guess all it takes is one unsavory person to get your account number and it could turn into a huge mess. But for us, it’s a lot easier (and safer) than carrying cash everywhere.

In any case, it’s still amusing to hear the person on the other end of the phone rattling off dollar amounts and cities that we’ve been to; often naming several states in one day.

We’d probably actually welcome someone stealing our card; there is no doubt that a thief would spend less than we do. After all, how many identity thieves do you know that use $50,000 a year in fuel??

Perfectly Apropos For Bush's Home State

Dive The Sky

Today while out and about, looking for property to buy, Eddie and I apparently came across the Skydiving Mecca of Wayne County, Indiana.

Among the many places we looked at, we were searching for a particular piece of seven acres for sale but couldn't find it. Armed only with an aerial photo, we decided to stop into the local airport, figuring these people if anyone, know aerial. We thought they might recognize the parcel since they probably fly over it all the time.

We stepped into the hangar where everyone was congregating, armed with the photo and our questions. We were greeted right away and directed into the office for more information. Everyone in the place was SO nice; and fun!!! The owner, a vivacious, cute little blond, has been in the skydiving business her whole life, going back as far as the 1940's when her grandfather owned a local airport. Her Dad was into skydiving and as she said, she was "born into it."

They spent a crazy amount of time helping us find this piece of land; they had out their laptops, downloaded Google Earth to check the aerials and called upon other people in their outfit to weigh in with their knowledge of the area. We felt like we were taking up so much of their time and it got to the point where I felt like they were going too far out of their way to be polite, but they kept saying it wasn't a problem and that they weren't busy that afternoon, so they didn't mind at all helping out. I was thinking, man, if they give that much attention to strangers, imagine how they treat their skydive clients!

This whole group of people were so warm and down to earth, even inviting us to come back and join them for a few beers at the end of their day, that I might even consider jumping out of a plane just to hang out with them!

OK, maybe that's a little extreme, but Eddie and I will definitely be visiting this place again. Maybe we can talk them into a little trade; "I'll give you a ride in my truck if you give me a ride in your plane..."

Paraskevidekatriaphobia

Blue Light Special

Recently, we came across one of the very few K-Marts left in the country and popped in to browse and pee. This is how I found Eddie when I came out of the ladies room:

Apparently, while I was peeing, he was browsing. Do you see why he can't be left alone too long??

Individuality

“Different fields, different grasshoppers; different seas, different fish.” ~ Indonesian Proverb

My Sentiments Exactly

Excerpt from Bella Tuscany by Frances Mayes (author of Under The Tuscan Sun):

"...I've begun to descend into what I've come to call traveller's melancholy, a profound displacement that occasionally seizes me for a few hours when I am in a foreign country. The pleasure of being the observer suddenly flips over into a disembodied anxiety. During its grip, I go silent. I dwell on the fact that most of those I love have no idea where I am and my absence among them is unremarkable; they continue their days indifferent to the lack of my presence. Then an immense longing for home comes over me. I imagine my bed with a stack of books - probably travel books - on the table, the combed afternoon sunlight coming through the curved windows, my cat Sister leaping up with her claws catching the yellow blanket. Why am I here where I don't belong? What is this alien place? I feel I'm in a strange afterlife, a haint blowing with the winds. I suspect the subtext to this displacement is the dread of death. Who and where are you when you are no one?"

A Good Hot Cup Is Desperately Needed

"Tea is drunk to forget the din of the world." ~T'ien Yiheng

* photo taken at the same coffee shop Eddie encountered the crazy person.

Playing In A Dream Near You

Last night, Eddie and I went to see The Departed, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, Jack Nicholson, Mark Wahlberg, Alec Baldwin and Martin Sheen. What a freakin' great movie!! We loved it.

It was over two hours long but I could have easily sat and watched Leo for another two. I have never been a fan of Leonardo, specifically because of the Titanic debacle, which I hated. Yeah, I know, it's the biggest grossing movie of all time and it made him a star, blah blah blah, whatever. I don't even know what those actual facts are, but in that movie, he was a skinny BOY. In this movie, he's a man. With crow's feet. And a goatee. And a leather jacket.In this movie; I am here to tell you - I am in LOVE with his face. Look at him. LOOK. I told Eddie that after the movie, I was dumping him and calling Leonardo. He laughed at me and as we sat in Barnes and Noble after the movie, Ed said, "Well look what we have here. You. Me. Drinking coffee at Barnes and Noble. And Leonardo is nowhere to be found....."

OK, I get the point. Leo is SO out of my league. I have no chance. Ever.

But then, it gets dark.

I lay my head on my pillow.

I drift off to sleep.

I dream.

And Leonardo is there.

A Bag Full Of Dicks

Oh, look. Dick's Hamburgers has a cock on its sign. How very subliminal.



Spotted in Spokane, Washington.

The Infinite Wisdom Of A Grandfather

My Aunt was telling me a story the other day about how her son was trying to scurry around last Sunday to get his girlfriend back home after she had spent the weekend with him. She inquired as to why he was rushing her home and he gave her the vague answer of, "I got things to do."

Turns out the "thing" he had to do was watch football.

My Aunt, in her innate understanding of her son, gave a response laced with humor by saying, "Oh, so you got a little sex, now you're ready to watch football, eh? That reminds me of something your grandfather used to say: 'After sex, women should turn into something useful; like a chair.'"

I had to smile hearing that. It reminded me of how my grandfather always had something colorful to say and usually didn't pull any punches when offering his opinion or assessment of a situation.

I guess he learned early on, after having four girls, that he had to get right to the point or he might lose his audience in the flurry of taking turns in the bathroom, bickering with their sisters, fighting over boys and getting ready for dates.

I'm going to pick out my upholstery pattern now; see you all in the furniture showroom!

Gambling Under The Big Sky

Neon palm trees in Billings, Montana. And you thought all the glitz was confined to Las Vegas.

Home On The Range: It's Not Just The Place Where The Deer And Antelope Play

Traveling on Interstate 94, just past Bismarck, North Dakota, you can't help but see a giant cow on a hillside. On a clear day, you can see her from five miles away. And no, it's not a figment of your imagination; it's Salem Sue.

Located in New Salem, North Dakota, Sue is a permanent part of the landscape. My picture doesn't do her justice, but if you want to read more about Salem Sue, just click here. That's where I found this little ditty:

Her presence shows that New Salem grows

With milk-producers' yields;

We've got the cow, world's largest cow

That looks across our fields.

If you want to know even more and see some close up shots of Sue, you can do that by clicking here.

After leaving Sue, continuing westward on I-94, on the Enchanted Highway, you will find what the 2002 Guinness World Book lists as the World’s Largest Scrap Metal Sculpture; Geese In Flight.
.

With all the land available out here in North Dakota, I suppose most things must be done on a grand scale. Otherwise, all you'd have to look at would be bison, deer, cows, horses and a few antelope.

And how boring are real animals when you can see GIANT SIZED fake ones??

The Answer Will Be Revealed In Nine Months

Eddie and I met a guy this week at one of the truck stops, named Melvin. He must have thought I looked like a person with a sympathetic ear (clearly, he was not lucid) because he started to talk to me about his life and the abundance of problems in it.

In addition to the low wages he made, the truck that he didn't own, the guy he worked for that he didn't really like and the felony/misdemeanor warrant out in his name, it seems his forty-five year old girlfriend called him that morning to give him the good news; she's pregnant.

The bad news? She doesn't know whose it is. Nice guy that Melvin seemed to be, he told her that he would do the right thing and since they were together, even if it wasn't his, he'd raise it as his own. Seems that the woman's ex-husband, the father of her two youngest children (4 yrs and 1 yr) is living in the house she shares with Melvin because the guy lost his license and can't drive, which in turn means he can't hold a job and I suppose that he's just plain down on his luck. So, to help him out, Melvin and the girlfriend decided to let the ex-husband live with them. Did I mention this is the girlfriend's tenth child? TENTH.

As a result, when Melvin and his girlfriend got into a recent tiff, she turned to the ex-husband and apparently got pregnant; but she's not really sure if it was that time that did it, or if it was the time she was with Melvin, last time he was home. Hence, the confusion.

The thing that amused me about this whole unfortunate situation is that Melvin kept telling me that he wanted her to take a "maternity test" to find out if the baby was his. I didn't have the heart to tell Melvin that the mother of the child was not in question, it was the father they are unsure of; which is why they need a PAternity test, not a MAternity test.

Perhaps Melvin shouldn't be having any children if he can't be sure who the mother is. And perhaps at forty-five, this woman should stop the baby making, especially when one of the known fathers has no job and the other suspected father doesn't know the difference between maternity and paternity.

The only thing that might ease 'ol Melvin's mind is if the kid comes out with flaming red hair; then he would be a spitting image of Melvin and no testing will be needed.

In any case, he's still going to have to wait the nine months.

Would I Be Cheesy If I Said I Wanted To Drive THIS Rig??

While in Wisconsin, I came across this truck. Man, if Eddie ever kicks me to the curb, I'm going to work for this company.

I would LOVE to drive around in a truck that looks like cheese!! I wonder if they give their employees free cheese?

I love cheese. <~~~~ in homage to Jim Gaffigan.

The Other Side Of The Tracks

View of The Sears Tower in Chicago, taken from the Amtrak train yard located between South Loop and Chinatown.

*It's the really tall building on the left, Mom.

Fish And Loaves Of Bread Are Not The Only Things He Is Generous With

I saw this painted on the side of a truck. I didn't realize that Jesus loaned things to swingers. Did I miss that in the Bible??

Holy Mother Of Pearl

I saw this at Target and I want it. It's a large, beautiful, faux mother-of-pearl disc thingy; if only I had a place to put it. Beware - someone might just be getting this for a gift this year.

How To Tell Your Parents You Don't Have A Roommate

This is an IM conversation I had with a friend of mine recently. After getting out of a nine year relationship, she has begun to date again. We were discussing the new girl coming up for the weekend and then coming back to meet her parents. You'd think after nine years, her parents would be on to her.

MY FRIEND: she's here today and tomorrow

ME: oh reeeaaaaallly? omg...so she's coming up again?

MY FRIEND: yes, and then she's comin' back next Tuesday and Wednesday

ME: wow wow wow, nice!

MY FRIEND: to meet the parental units

ME: WHAT???????

MY FRIEND: so we'll see...don't want to wear her out

ME: She's meeting your parents??? Shut UP.

MY FRIEND: yes, she's meeting the parents. lol I told you I liked her

ME: ok - what do they know? that she's a girlfriend?

MY FRIEND: OH NO

ME: or are you, at FORTY, playing the "a friend" game?

MY FRIEND: just a friend so far...

ME: because that is LAME

MY FRIEND: LOL

ME: oh, c'mon, serious?

MY FRIEND: Gram is not ready, and I'm a LESBIAN

ME: do you think your parents fell off the turnip truck yesterday??

MY FRIEND: yes, I hope they did

ME: Don't they KNOW you're a lesbian???? Maybe it's time you tell them.

MY FRIEND: yes, they do know

ME: break the news to 'em

MY FRIEND: they've known forever

ME: I know, but you're acting like the don't KNOW

MY FRIEND: lol. so yeah, good point

ME: criminy!

MY FRIEND: okay, I guess I need to tell them that I'm dating her

ME: What are you going to tell them next? She's my "friend" and we might be "roommates" someday...

MY FRIEND: LMAO

MY FRIEND: asshole!!!!

ME: ...but we only have one bed.

ME: WTF?????

Ohhh, Paaablo

"I don't love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as one loves certain dark things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul." ~ Pablo Neruda

Company On The Prairie

Since it's obvious that my brother was with me on that fateful wagon train ride into the wild west, I thought I'd use his photo from that day to mark his birthday.

Wide eyed, with a smart crew cut to streamline his head, he clearly took the casual route to dressing back then. Not that it's much different now; he still favors casual. On any given day, you'll find him garbed in clothing emblazoned with his company logo. Well excuuuuuuse me, Mr. Picture of Success! Who woulda thunk way back on the wagon train.

Well, actually, most of us did. If you needed something, Michael was the one to do it. Wagon wheel broken? Not to worry, he'll fix it. Need firewood? Done. Horses need shoeing? He'd forge new ones out of whatever steel was handy. And our wagon? Oh, it was the envy of the colony; tricked out with anything fancy that bartering could buy. We were the only ones to have "custom" wheels on our wagon. And I'll tell you what, they were not easy to come by; unless of course, you had a friend who worked at WagonWorld.

I am blessed to have been able to take this journey through life with my baby (although more responsible) brother by my side. There is never a day that I don't think about him or wish to hear his voice. All of my best memories were ones that included him; even if it did take a bribe of Bubble Yum and Sweet Tarts.

Happy Birthday Scobble Head! I look forward to the next journey. And yes, I have plenty of Bubble Yum.

Color Ring

A Wicked Good Time

Last night, Eddie and I went into New York City for dinner and to see a Broadway play. We took the train into Grand Central Terminal and then walked to Rockefeller Center for dinner at the Rock Center Cafe. We had a nice view of the famous Rockefeller Center ice skating rink and golden Prometheus statue. After dinner, we walked a few blocks to The Gershwin Theater to see Wicked: The Untold Story of The Witches Of OZ. The show was very interesting, a movie come to life. I was especially impressed by the performers voices and the costumes. I'm amazed that these people do this as their job and then go home every night and probably eat a bowl of cereal while watching re-runs of Friends just like I do. Amazing. Even though no recording devices were allowed in the theater, I managed to snap a quick, blurry picture during the finale of the show.
Eddie slept during the train ride back, waking just in time to take in a late night grilled cheese at the local diner. We went right to bed after that since we would need our sleep to spend today at my Aunt's house in what turned out to be a little surprise birthday party for me. My Aunt Joya and Aunt Michele decided that my last year in this decade should be celebrated with actual people as witnesses. So, Aunt Joya cooked up a storm, serving us a mini-feast and Aunt Michele shined with her fantastic baking skills, as usual. And a party was had by all. Now it's time to get serious (yeah, like that will ever happen) and gear up for a whole new year! So, here's to thirty-nine; the age I will now be, whenever asked, for the rest of my days.

The Birthday Wagon Train Takes Off Today

“The age of a woman doesn't mean a thing. The best tunes are played on the oldest fiddles.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Today is my birthday and I chose this picture to commemorate it, since to me, it has a very nomadic feel. I look as if I just stepped off a wagon train after traversing across the wild, wild west for months on end with my family, who of course, were heading to California during the gold rush, hoping to get rich and make a better life for the family. With my dark eyes and hair, I could even be the little Indian girl they picked up along the way and tried to civilize by putting me in a "modern" dress.

If I were traveling cross country in a covered wagon, you must know that I would have argued, bitched and complained about not wanting to go because it would have been hot, dusty and bumpy. And most likely, I only went because my mother promised me a new dress for my birthday; I wouldn't have wanted to be the laughingstock of the wagon train wearing the Laura Ingalls contraption I have on in this picture.

In the real world of my childhood, we never made it too far out of the Bronx and here I am, thirty-nine years later still waiting for that damn new dress and ironically, still on a wagon train of sorts, traversing the country.

This is the last year in my thirties. I have one year until I turn forty and dammit, I plan on making it a good one. I have done a lot in the past two years; more traveling than I've ever done in my life, experiencing things that some people don't get to do in a lifetime and I am truly blessed to have had such fortune.

But now, with forty looming on the horizon, I have to be more focused on making the last year in my thirties a memorable one. Come forty, I'll have to be all grown up and shit. So, I'll be going into my thirty-ninth year behind the wheel of a truck, driving across the country, steering myself where I want. Freedom is something I've always enjoyed but now, I have the tools to take that freedom to another level.

I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing right now (well, okay, except sitting on a beach somewhere counting my millions, in increments of $100 bills), but I feel like I should have a plan. So, I have concocted a loose plan of sorts which involves lots of traveling, making of money and memories and very little of settling - down or otherwise.

I will be doing less of what I don't want and more of what I do. I will be spending time with the people who mean the most to me with those I like and love being my top priority; my family, my closest and dearest friends and My Eddie.

This year is going to start off on a Wicked note and I'm very much looking forward to being on the wagon train that is taking me there. See you all on the prairie!