Buggin' Out

Two Amish horse and buggies parked at Eash Sales in Shipshewana, Indiana.

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1 YEAR AGO: Hangin’ Out With Ray Stoker Jr.
2 YEARS AGO: Sunset On The Move
3 YEARS AGO: Happy Easter

How A Book Defies Its Cover

This woman, Susan Boyle, a 47-year-old virgin living from Scotland who lives with her cat, sang "I Dreamed A Dream" from Les Miserables on Britain's Got Talent. She had me on the edge of my seat, my body just filling with joy. One theater producer said, "Vocally it is one of the best versions of the song I've ever heard." This YouTube clip is a little bit longer, showing more of a lead-in before she takes the stage. I loved seeing the audience and their reaction and then the judges, and how their faces spoke volumes. Of course, as usual, I just LOVE Simon. I love all kinds of music and I love to feel something when I hear a song or watch a performance.

This is one of those performances. It moved me. If Paul Potts, the first winner of Britain's Got Talent is any example, then it looks like Susan Boyle may be destined for the same fate.  

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1 YEAR AGO: How To Up Your Chances For A Sweet Monkey Lovin’ Romp
2 YEARS AGO: Activities Director
3 YEARS AGO: Ah, But It Is SO Worth It

Vantage Point

This horse is part of a group of Wild Horses monument that graces a hilltop in Vantage, Washington, just off of Interstate 90, overlooking the Columbia River.

Accessible only from the eastbound side of the interstate, it's easily missed as we've passed by it at least fifty times without even knowing it was there.

I don't know how I missed sixteen iron horses on the hill, but I guess it's because most of the time I'm looking down at the bridge crossing the river while at the same time keeping at eye on the edge of the pavement.

I have no desire to go careening into the gorge.


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1 YEAR AGO: Cape Cahd Hahba
2 YEARS AGO: Waxing Brilliant
3 YEARS AGO: Seven! Seven! Seven! Seven! Seveeeeennnn!

A Fishy Pishy Is Never Dishy

I was laying in bed the other night thinking about what we used to call our private parts when we were little. I know, sort of an odd thought to be having, but I think it was on my mind because my mother had just told me a story about my middle nephew "adjusting his cup" while getting dressed for his baseball game. She said, "He was playing with his pishy for so long, I was wondering what the hell he was adjusting. He's eight."

We always said pishy (rhymes with dishy) when referring to our "private" area - whether boy or girl. I don't know where it came from or who came up with it, but my entire family said it, from grandparents to aunts to mothers to cousins to siblings. "Watch out for your pishy" my mother would say as we climbed on the monkey bars, "Don't hurt your pishy" to my brother, as he swung one leg over the center bar of his bicycle. Of course, we were also told that we were not to show our pishy to anyone and no one was to see it or touch it either. (Boy, I'm glad I no longer have to follow that rule!)

It ran through both sides of our family, the pishy thing, with both my mother and father. Although my father, he said "peeshy". Peeshy with a very long "e" sound. But then again my father also said "wrastler" when he meant wrestler, "teet" when he meant teeth, and "mout" when he intended to say mouth. My nephews still giggle remembering Grandpa Sal and how he used to tell them their "teet were in their mout." He must have gotten that from his father who said terlet (toilet), olive earl (olive oil) and Terdy-terd street (Thirty-third Street). It must be a Bronx thing.

When I moved out to Arizona, my Mexican-born, gay friend Marco would call me "Pescada", which means "fish" in Spanish. The only reason I point out his being gay is because the pescada thing is how he identified women; as people with vaginas, who in his mind, were "fishy". Although he loved me and the term was used as an endearment (go figure), he also liked (really liked) men. He would alsways say "pescada" with a bit of a sneer, like someone describing a food they dislike. I think he wanted to make it very clear that women were SO not what he was interested in. Well, duh.

So now I'm thinking our "pishy" word may have come about in a similar manner, since "fish" in Italian is said "pesci". Pretty close, huh? Although when we used it, it was so disconnected from that word. We didn't think of it like that, still don't, and we used it for both boys and girls.

If you have kids, you can't have helped but notice how your vocabulary changes. My friend Vicki uses a similar version of "pishy" with her kids, over the years having morphed it into just one word - rina. It started out as pishy, then went to pish-a-rina, then got shortened to rina and on some days, it's even shorter yet - ree. And, it's also sort of come to mean both your privates (rina) or, having to pee (do rina, ree).

Talking about this whole thing makes me think about the words I hate hearing people use to describe going to the bathroom. They are used mostly with children, but still rub my ears the wrong way when I hear them. I absolutely HATE the term, "make". "Do you have to make?" What the hell is that???

The other one I hate is "potty". It's one thing when you refer to the actual toilet as a potty, when talking to a child (even though that still makes me cringe since it's such a childish term), but when you ask your child if he has to "make potty", "go to the potty" or "do potty", I think, "Why don't you just teach them what the toilet is actually called??" It's even worse when I hear an adult ask where the potty is or say, "I have to go potty." It takes all I have to hold my tongue and not tell them they sound like an idiot.

Now you might ask what's the difference between saying "go rina" and "go to the potty". Well, I guess nothing really. I suppose they are both terms that you can use with children going to the bathroom, but the difference with Vicki (or me, when I'm around them) using the terms they made up, is that her children know that it's actually called a toilet, not a potty and they know that the term we coined for going to the bathroom is a word that morphed out of goofiness and fun. They would never, in public or at school or at another person's home say, "I have to go rina." The would ask to use the bathroom or ladies room or rest room - whatever the correct term is.

And if you're an adult saying that you have to "go potty" or "go make" (believe me, I've heard it) or "use the little girls room", I think you need to take a look in your pants to see if you're wearing big girl panties. Because if you are, it's time to stop using that childish term. It's not cute, it's not endearing, it's just stupid.

So do I dare ask what you used to (or still) call your privates or what you say when you have to use the bathroom? And what have you taught your kids?

And please try not to say anything that will make me want to vomit in the potty.


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1 YEAR AGO: A Dash Of Ignorance Makes For A Tasty Treat
2 YEARS AGO: Before The Luck Ran Out
3 YEARS AGO: Five Guys I'm In Love With This Week

Shaved, Slivered, Sliced, Grated, Chunked And Best Of All, In Meatballs

One of my favorite cheeses in the world (my world, since I haven't tasted every cheese in the world) is Locatelli brand Pecorina Romano. It's the cheese of my childhood. You could say I grew up on it.

As a kid, we never used anything else. In fact, I never even knew anything else existed since I never saw another type of grated cheese in our house. For that matter, I never saw another type of cheese used by any of my family. And I never knew it was Pecorina Romano - to me, it was just Locatelli. And if you know what that means, you know what that means. It's good stuff.

When on the table, it was grated into tiny slivers, served in a little bowl with a teeny spoon. Never served in a cheese shaker, and never in that weird grainy form. We always used it on our macaroni, but we also put it in soups and used it in our cooking. I can't imagine making my grandmother's meatballs without several handfuls of Locatelli. Yes, handfuls.

The unfortunate thing is, you can't find it everywhere; but since I was up in New York last weekend, I got a big chunk of it. It was $12.99 a pound and worth every penny. I never flinch at the price because honestly, I don't even look at the price.

I was too impatient to wait for something to use it on, so several times this week I found myself standing in the kitchen with a thick slice of it in my hand. It made my mouth so happy to taste its sharp, salty flavor.

Eddie and I had ravioli for Easter dinner and the sprinkling of freshly slivered Locatelli brought back so many memories.

Now if only I had those meatballs...


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1 YEAR AGO: Too Small For America?
2 YEARS AGO: Waiting For A Beautiful Balsamic Splash
3 YEARS AGO: Five Guys I’m In Love With This Week

Easter Preparation Takes Its Toll

This is a short text message conversation I had with my best friend today:

ME: What are you doing?

VICKI: Dying eggs! Shit, they don't bottle enough wine for this!!

ME: Ummm, I don't think you're supposed to be dying them in wine.


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1 YEAR AGO: Eddie In Blue Friday
2 YEARS AGO: The Man Filter
3 YEARS AGO: There Is Still A Chance

Eddie Forces A Smile Friday

"Will you please just give me a smile??!!" I asked.

THIS is what I get.


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1 YEAR AGO: A, B, C, D, DD: No Matter What The Letter, The Trauma Is The Same
2 YEARS AGO: How To Watch American Idol The Right Way
3 YEARS AGO: Dings And Ho’s

Some Like It Hot

While sitting around Seattle waiting for Ed to load the truck, I made a pot of my father's chili. Ed hasn't had it yet and I thought it would be a nice meal for the rainy day we were experiencing (What?? Rain in Seattle?). Up above is the picture as it cooked, down below is the recipe if you'd like to try it.


Sal’s Chili

THE STORY
My father owned a hot dog cart in New York for 16 years. One of the most requested items he sold was the chili topping for his hot dogs. Its most identifying characteristic was its heat. That was my father’s “thing” with the chili – making it super freaking hot. People came to his cart specifically for this hot chili, even bringing friends along to try it.

He always made sure to tell everyone straight out that it was EXTREMELY hot. He'd even offer samples to people who weren't sure they'd like it or thought it might be too hot. After tasting it, many people would pass, especially women. Men would square their shoulders and puff out their chests, showing their manly ability to eat anything, and just order away. Often they would be seen with their jaws hung open, huffing air and downing a cold soda moments after their first bite, giving relief to their mouth.

You can adjust the heat to your preference and it’ll be just as good. I usually figure, when I make it for most people, one habanero pepper per pound of meat. If I were making it for my hot dog cart, I’d add more. Also, when my father and I made it for our hot dog carts, we did NOT add kidney beans. I only add kidney beans if I’m planning to serve it in a bowl, as a meal (with cornbread on the side!). As a meal, it’s best not to be so hot but on a hot dog, the fire just adds to the experience!

THE INGREDIENTS
2 lbs. Chop Meat (80-85% lean – some fat in the chili makes it taste better)
1 large onion (diced)
9 cloves of garlic (minced)
3 habanero peppers (minced)
3 jalapeno peppers (diced – you can use 3 fresh or you can use jarred – just dice)
1 can dark red kidney beans
2 cans diced or whole tomatoes
1 can tomato paste
1 tablespoon of sugar
Salt & Pepper
Olive Oil

THE PROCESS
1. In a large stock pot, coat the bottom of the pan with olive oil and start to brown the chop meat. I do one pound at a time and I break the meat up with a wooden spoon into little pieces, leaving a few chunks in the mix. You don’t have to fully cook it because it will cook more later, but make sure it’s browned.

2. While the meat is browning, prepare the garlic, onion, habaneros and jalapenos and set aside. NOTE: When handling habaneros, it’s best to use gloves. I wear thin, latex gloves for this. Even touching the outside of the pepper and getting its oil on your hands can result in burning your eyes or lips or whatever if you happen to rub your eye or touch your mouth after handling the pepper. Once you cut them open and expose the seeds, be just as careful with that. Be aware not to rub your face or mouth or eyes until you are done handling the peppers.

3. When the meat is close to done, take the meat out and put it into a bowl on the side. Leave the fat from the meat in the bottom of the stock pot.

4. Now in that stock pot, using the fat from the meat, sauté your garlic and onions. Do NOT burn these, cook only until they are sizzling and translucent.

5. Once that is done, put the meat back in the pot and add your cans of tomatoes and tomato paste. If you’re using whole tomatoes, crush them with your hand as you put them in the pot. Use the larger tomato can to add one can of water to the pot.

6. Now add your habaneros and jalapenos. The reason I dice the jalapenos and mince the habaneros is because of the habaneros heat. If you get too big a piece of habanero in your spoonful of chili, it’s too hot. Mincing it allows the heat to disperse through the entire pot of chili.

7. Add a tablespoon of sugar (a little more if you like it sweet – I do) and salt and pepper. Usually, as with everything I make since I don’t measure, is just to sprinkle a light layer of seasoning across the whole pot. Then I stir it all in.

8. Bring the whole pot to a boil (it won’t really boil like water, but it will bubble) and keep stirring so it doesn’t stick to the pot.

9. Cook a minimum of one hour, more if you want it to be thicker. The longer you cook, the more reduced it will become and the thicker the chili will be.

10. Enjoy!

Click HERE for the printable version of the recipe.


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1 YEAR AGO: The Desert Blooms With Irritants
2 YEARS AGO: Squeeze Me?
3 YEARS AGO: Relationship Deal Breakers

Pink In Tacoma

I spent the early morning hours with coffee and a blueberry scone at the Barnes and Noble in Tacoma, Washington. When I left and was walking back to the truck, I spied an entire tree blooming in the sunshine. This little beauty stood still long enough for me to snap its picture.

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1 YEAR AGO: Not The Kind Of Flower You Pick
2 YEARS AGO: Exclusive Holiday Visitation
3 YEARS AGO: Basket Of Knowledge

Unwatchable

I know there are those of you out there who will probably praise the movie Watchmen. I don't know who you people are. And you know what? I don't want to know who you people are. I hope never to meet you or be sucked into a conversation by you.

I don't even want to know why you liked the movie. Well, that's not entirely true. I would actually like to know why you liked it, just to see if I can identify all of you by some like characteristic so I'll know who to stay very far away from. Perhaps you all have an earlobe that hangs low on one side, or the third finger of your left hand is an inch shorter than all the others or maybe you wear t-shirts that say "I Like Stupid Movies".

Finding out why you liked the movie would mean I'd have to talk to you about it and likely, you'd recount your favorite part or line or character, and then I would have to risk having an aneurysm all over again. That I can't do because I already lost three hours of my life this week. Three hours that I'll likely never make up. Three hours of time that will never be erased from my brain, images seared into it that will take years and years to forget. I might even need therapy.

There are not enough words in the English language (or all languages combined) to express the level of SUCK this movie rose to. I don't even want to type the string of expletives I used to describe what I thought about it, the time I wasted and the fact that I sat through the entire thing, because if I did, this post would not only be NSFW (not safe for work), it would also be NSFS (not safe for sailors).

Once again though, I chose to accompany my very cute, very loving boyfriend to a movie of his choice. Why, you ask? Why did I do this once again, after I've done it in the past and regretted my decision? I wish I could say it was because I'm a dumbass and didn't intelligently think it out. But that's not true.

I did think it out (albeit for a split second). I did it because honestly, he does SO much for me. I initially said no, knowing I would hate it, but then he asked me again. So I gave in. I thought, Okay, it's got Jeffrey Dean Morgan in it. I loved him in Grey's Anatomy and PS I Love You. He's really cute. How bad can it be?

That phrase, "how bad can it be?", should never be uttered. Because if you're even thinking about how bad it could be, then something is definitely telling you to stay away.

LISTEN TO YOUR INNER VOICE.

Because not everyone has the t-shirt.


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1 YEAR AGO: Nesting
2 YEARS AGO: The Quickest Way To Get Ready For A Nap
3 YEARS AGO: One Stop Shopping

Waiting For The Storm In Ohio

Storm clouds hovering over farmland in Ottawa, Ohio.

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1 YEAR AGO: Sprawl
2 YEARS AGO: Moonlighting
3 YEARS AGO: Spring Breath Escapes Through Two Lips

Straight Out Of The Box

Me, Sunday morning, right after I got ready for "work".

Not quite the straight out of bed shot, but it is straight out of the camera; no adjustments, no Photoshop, nothing but cropping. The background is a little dark because I didn't use a flash, just the light from above the kitchen sink. As you can see, I'm standing directly under it.

Criminy, I say! Looking at the creases on my forehead, I might have to be getting those Botox injections sooner than I anticipated!

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1 YEAR AGO: Unreal Ideal
2 YEARS AGO: Stealing Isn’t Always A Bad Thing
3 YEARS AGO: 04 05 06

Petal Tips Of Spring And New Life

Today I saw my twin cousins, a boy and a girl, for the very first time. At just a smidge over five pounds each and smaller than a loaf of Italian bread, they were delicious. Not in the Italian bread way, in the yummy baby way. I cried when handed the first one to hold.

It's impossible not to know there is something out there so much greater than us when you see two beautiful babies cradled in your hands. These tulips with their variegated colors bleeding into each other, also a product of a power greater than us, are almost as beautiful, but not nearly as amazing.

Looking at those babies, I just can't believe my cousin and his wife made them. They MADE a person. I mean, I know all about the birds and the bees and all that, but every time I see a newborn, I'm just in awe. I couldn't stop looking at them. And at only two weeks old, it's nice to think they were actually looking back at me, but I know they were just seeing a big, blobby shadow hovering over them.

Which I guess means their eyesight is pretty good.

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1 YEAR AGO: Eddie In Hawaiian Garb Friday
2 YEARS AGO: New Floridork?
3 YEARS AGO: Boogie Down Bronx

Eddie At The Glacier Friday

Here we have a picture of my Eddie filling our drinking water jugs for the truck. We keep about six gallons in the truck; three of these small gallon jugs and then one big three gallon jug. Did you know water weighs about 8.35 pounds?

I suppose the average person doesn't really need to know how much water weighs, but in the truck, every gallon counts. Because the truck has a legal weight cap; 80,000 pounds.

Now a few gallons of water shouldn't make much difference you'd think when you have 80,000 pounds of weight to play with, but when you have a 40 gallon water tank, 7 gallons of flush water and 6 gallons of drinking water, you're carrying approximately 442 pounds of extra weight. That can make or break you at the scale house.

So, in addition to figuring how many gallons of fuel we have (diesel fuel weighs about 7.3 pounds per gallon, resulting in 1,606 pounds when our tanks are full), we also need to know how much water weight we're carrying.

See - neurotic women aren't the only one who worry about carrying extra water weight; truck drivers do it too.

"Hey buddy, do my ankles look swollen to you? I think I may be retaining water."


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1 YEAR AGO: When Having A UTI Is A Cause For A Celebration
2 YEARS AGO: They Should Give Academy Awards For Good Hair
3 YEARS AGO: One, Two, Three, Floor

E Pluribus Unum

As Ed and I ate dinner at the port in Jersey City, New Jersey (not by choice, we were stuck there due to gross incompetence on the parts of many people whose fingers were in the pie of our load) we watched a little television to accompany my fine cooking.

As we channel surfed, we found several languages represented in the local stations. Italian (Raitalia TV), Korean (KBS World), Spanish (Univision and others) and we think some other Asian channel we couldn't identify.

New York truly embodies E pluribus unum; Latin for "Out of Many, One." It's in the collage of faces and the symphony of voices. Everyone fits and everyone adds something unique with their instrument. Even within the confines of the trucking industry, you will notice it; especially at the ports. In one afternoon, you'll see everything from a Punjabi Sikh with a turban, to a Jamaican Rasta with dreadlocks, to a tiny Chinaman so slight you think he'd be better suited to be a jockey than a truck driver.

When I was younger, there was a kid from Honduras who worked at our family restaurant. He learned most of the English he knew from watching television, which is probably the reason why every time he opened his mouth, he sounded like either a commercial or a sitcom. But he learned. And he prospered. And he was very, very happy to participate in the American life he created, even if he did it in broken English. The mixture of his Spanish and English was part of his charm. I wonder if I would become more charming if I sat around watching Raitalia TV? Forse.

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1 YEAR AGO: The Dance In Their Heads, Hands And Feet
2 YEARS AGO: The Love Buffet
3 YEARS AGO: Whadya Think This Is, The Waldorf?

Shouting From The Rooftops

Well, not really a rooftop, more like a cushy passenger seat. Anyhoo, I always love a good web site find. I'm a bit of an Internet junkie and since I spend so much time online, I often stumble across a great site or someone passes it on to me. Once I know about it, I have to immediately notify everyone in my inner circle and of course, you lucky readers! (Half of whom are already in my inner circle. Ahem.)

So, here are a few of my favorites. Some of them are helpful in the trucking aspect, but others are just plain 'ol useful.

Weatherbase: This is just fun. Planning a vacation? Don't know where you want to go? Plug in your information and preferences and get some ideas.

Hazelmail: Love postcards? Don't love the ones that they sell in tourist shops? Make your own! And Hazel will send it for you.

Goodreads: Sometimes a pain in the ass to update, especially if you're a voracious reader (uh, like Michelle), but it's a cool way to keep up with friends and what they're reading, in addition to getting suggestions.

U.S. Naval Observatory: We use this when we're running an over-dimensional load and you're only allowed to travel during daylight hours. Most loads that require this type of permit allow you to start driving a half-hour before sunrise to a half-hour after sunset. So this helps to know when twilight begins and ends.

Tastebook: I'm not sure you know this, but I love Oprah. Moreover, I love Oprah's Favorite Things. So when I saw this in last year's Christmas issue of my Oprah magazine, I thought wow, what a genius idea! Oprah always finds the coolest stuff. You can make your own cookbook by combining youre own recipes with those from friends and family. No more recipes written on the back of paper plates or saved in your email in-box. And now I won't have to sneak into Garnett's house in the middle of the night and steal the highly valued box of her mother's recipes. She just saved me from a life in the big house!

Tiny URL: This one is great. If you don't know about it, you should. Ever want to send a friend a link but it has more letters than War and Peace? Use Tiny URL. So small, you can text it.

RefDesk: I love this site for too many reasons to list. Go there.

VRBO: Vacation Rentals By Owner. Want to go on vacation but don't want to stay in a hotel? Find people here who rent their personal homes, vacation homes, city apartments, beach cottages, etc. There are locations all over the globe!

Festivals.com: Have a free weekend but don't know what you want to do? Check out this web site for all sorts of festivals and events going on all over the country. You can search by category, keywords, zip code, dates. Don't be surprised if you see an festival you never even knew existed!

Coin Laundry Association: This site comes in very handy for us. I don't like doing my laundry at the truck stop - most of the time, they don't have enough machines and I'm don't want to be sitting there enduring the glare of a driver that needs to wash his coveralls and a few pairs of socks while I'm folding my sixth load. This site allows me to plug in a zipcode and find a place with all the washers my little heart desires!

MoMA Store: The Museum of Modern Art store has some of the most unique items I've ever seen. Need to transport a banana? They have a way. Get lost on the way to the kitchen for a midnight snack? never again. And when a whole scissor is just too much for the job? There's this. I'm sure you can find something here and think how cool you'll be giving a gift that someone can't go to the local Walmart and find themselves. You can thank me later.

And finally, something so delicious I just couldn't pass it up:

Bacolicious: In the mood for a slice of bacon? How about slapping that bacon on a web site to send your friend? What? You've never considered it? Well it's about time to start. Click on the link, follow the directions and slap some bacon on someone!


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As this is the first of the month (and no, this is not an April Fool's joke) I am going to add a new feature to my posts. At the end of each one, I'll be linking to posts from years past. It will allow you to see what was going on in years past and you'll be able to delve into the archives a little at a time, without having to start from the very beginning. Click to enjoy!

1 YEAR AGO: View From Fifteen
2 YEARS AGO: The Sun Before The Storm
3 YEARS AGO: This Is No Joke
4 YEARS AGO: There is no four yet because I started my blog in May 2005. So next month, you'll start seeing the "4 Years Ago" category.

I'll Get You My Pretty

I hate all cigarette smokers.

Well, unless you are my friends (Hags) or family (you know who you are).

Being a non-smoker all of my life, I find cigarette smoke to be very offensive. I know smokers will say to stay away from places with smokers, and for the most part I do. I don't like to go to bars, you will rarely find me in a pool hall, and if I have to be in a casino, I'm in the non-smokers room if they have one. If they don't, I shower Silkwood Style as soon as I get back to my hotel room.

But now they have electronic cigarettes. You heard me right. Electronic.

Boy, they're determined to get people smoking no matter how they do it, aren't they? Granted it doesn't produce the second hand smoke, which I like, and they claim it doesn't have the harmful tars and carcinogens of traditional cigarettes, but oddly, it still has the nicotine. Which is the highly addictive substance cigarettes contain.

Since I'm not a smoker, I'm not sure if this is going to be appealing. I mean, that's like me licking a plastic replica of a donut that tastes like my favorite Boston Cream donut from Dunkin', but doesn't deliver all the calories.

I'm not really sure that's gonna cut it.

No Need To Do Anything Drastic; There Will Always Be Re-Runs

In all its fifteen years, I've only seen a few episode of ER, but you'd have to be living under a rock to not know the series is coming to an end. Everyone knows the major players, even if they aren't weekly watchers.

For weeks now, I've been seeing the commercials advertising its final episode, and every time I see one, I'm on the verge of tears. I find myself saying, I didn't have a chance to watch! Wait! I don't want it to end! I don't want these people to go away! Tell me it isn't sooooooooooooooo. And I'm not even a fan!

Yet, it's happening. I can only imagine the many wrists that are going to be slit when that show ends. I have a feeling the ER's across America might be busy that night. That's kinda weird, huh?

I really hope these people have lined up something else to fill their Thursday nights.

If The Life Expectancy Of A White Male Is Over Seventy Five Years, You Have Plenty Of Time When You're Ten

Tonight Ed and I are sitting in Buttonwillow, California waiting to deliver our load tomorrow morning. He's working on our taxes, I'm doing something less "work" related...

Every month, I write a newsletter for my oldest nephew, who is ten years old. It's typically five pages and I include a "Place of The Month" category where I take a whole page to describe a place we've been in detail, along with any interesting facts or information about it. I always include pictures I've taken if I have them. Another category is called "Side Trip" which is just a column where I highlight something small about another place we've been - for instance, last month I did Venice Beach, California. One of the things I knew my nephew would be interested in was the fact that it was the place where Carroll Shelby opened his first Shelby manufacturing plant in 1964. It was at this location that he converted a stock Ford Mustang into a "gutsy, incredibly fast street-legal race car".

I have a column that highlights events of the month like holidays and birthdays, a column with trivia and jokes and a column titled "Ed Says" where Ed and I collaborate on a topic of the month. So far we've done "saving money", "practicing to improve your skills" and "being organized".

As I was working on this month's newsletter, I asked Ed for a topic idea for his column. He said, "How about cleanliness?" I was like, "Uh, NO. My sister-in-law is the cleanest person I know. You could smish food into her carpet and eat it; I don't think my nephews need ANY tips on how to stay clean."

So then he said, "Well, how about 'Life is Short'?"

I said, "Life is short? Baby, he's ten. Life is not short when you're ten."


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In the spirit of extending life, I'd like to wish a very Happy Birthday to my dear friend Nikki, who turned 34 today! Please visit her new blog to read about her and her amazing search and rescue dog, TBAA.

When You Need Your Hump Fixed, This Is The Place

Quartzsite, Arizona.

Eddie My Little Ex-Marine Friday

We hauled some freight over to Edwards Air Force Base in California and Ed was like a little kid looking at all the planes and equipment - he even went to the museum!

Copter

Edwards Air Force Base. Edwards, California.

A Peek Behind The Sacred Pantry Door

I was inspired to do this post by the Highway Hags five part Truckin Cribs tour. Of course, they showed you a whole lot more of their truck (which I might do in the future), but for right now I'm giving you a quick tour of my fabulous pantry. I know, who really gives shit, right? Well, too bad - this is what you get today.

When we got the truck, we had two hanging clothes closets, but with all the room I have I decided I just didn't need them. I asked Ed to make one of them into a pantry. So he put two shelves in, creating three separate areas for me to pack with goodies. The very top shelf, which you can’t see, holds my pots and some miscellaneous items. The two main shelves hold the good stuff.

I’ve highlighted 10 items that we always have on hand, but in the background, were you to dig a little deeper, you’d find peanut butter, grape soda (childhood favorite!), canned veggies, oatmeal, tuna, salsa, Mint Milano cookies, sugar, crushed tomatoes, soup, spices....I could probably whip up anything in thirty minutes - if I don't have it, I'm never far from the store!

Now for the tour...

1. At least 14 boxes of Barilla pasta – I can never run low for fear of going into withdrawals. I think Ed is sick of having macaroni for dinner, but this is what I grew up on!

2. Bottle of Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup – a necessity for late night chocolate milk but also good for a chocolate fix if there is nothing else available – a little squirt in the mouth is like an intravenous feed.

3. Extra Virgin Olive Oil or EVOO as Rachael Ray likes to say. Another staple – wouldn’t be able to run my kitchen without it.

4. Ed’s necessary bag of chips. I never grew up eating chips – but he’s a white boy and apparently, white people have chips on the side of their sandwich. The only side we might have with our sandwich would be another meatball.

5. Our instant coffee selections for when we don’t want to brew a pot of regular or use the espresso machine. Folgers for Ed (they really do have flavor crystals!) and my favorite, General Foods International Italian Cappuccino.

6. Balsamic Vinegar – a salad staple for me, but great for making a balsamic reduction for chicken or pork and excellent on strawberries.

7. Crystal Light – if I must to drink water (ICK) it has to have something in it. We’re into the Strawberry/Banana/Orange right now (which really just tastes like strawberry) but I have too many favorite flavors to name.

8. You can’t see the box, but it’s Pillsbury Devil’s Food Cake mix. For when I must have a freshly baked cake.

9. Potatoes (duh) that are actually FROM Idaho! Bet you couldn’t tell that by just looking at them, could you? And yes, they really DO taste better.

10. Drinking water. We fill up the tank in the truck but only use that for showers and dishwashing. For coffee and drink mixes, I use the bottled stuff. Refills are only .35 a gallon at Walmart. Can’t beat that. Well, if you're paying for water that is.

A Bevy Of Pavo Cristatus

From what I found out via Google, Pavo Cristatus is the species name for this bird, commonly known as Indian Peafowl or the Blue Peafowl. What I didn't know is that only the males are actually called a Peacock. The female is a peahen and the babies are peachicks. A group of them are called a bevy.

Well yesterday at Murray Family Farms in Mettler, California, I got to see a bevy of them. I don't think I've seen anything so gorgeous. His iridescence reminded me of the photo of a Drake I took last year, but the richness of his colors blew that duck right out of the water!

There were at least ten of these blue peafowl, along with a few peahens roaming around as well. None of them displayed their plumes in true peacock "fan" fashion, but I did get to see them spread behind one of them as he took a little rest from being all beautiful. It's a little hard to see him through the fencing, but his "train" of tailfeathers was at least three feet long!

Come closer my friends and get a better look:

First The Poultry, Now This

Here we have another interesting item. Sort of like yesterday's bird, only yellow:

I picked it up and smelled it; citrusy. Skin like a lemon. Fingers like a mutant. No real fruit in it, just a big lump of rind is what it looked like. I had no idea what it was until I asked the girl that worked there.

 "Buddha's Hand," she said as she walked past me.

"Budatan?" I said. ""Buddha's HAND." she enunciated. That's the name of it.

 I won't say I think I know everything about cooking, but I was pretty sure I'd seen all there was to see in the regular grocery stores and farmer's markets of the United States.

I know other countries have exotic fruits, vegetables and food items that I don't know a thing about, but to see this at Murray Family Farms and be able to reach out and touch it without having to fly thousands of miles to China to do so, was kind of cool.

 Even if it did feel like I was holding hands with a mutant.

What The Hell Is This?

OK, this is a pretty creepy picture. I know it's a close up, but it doesn't get any better looking if you take a step back. Colorful for sure. Unusual, yes. Uncomfortable looking, definitely.

Now I know there are a lot of country folk out there who probably know what this is. I'm thinking a rooster or chicken, which just seems obvious to me, but what kind? And why the red growths like that? Do all of this type of bird have those? Is it a disease? Is it the Elephant Bird?

I know the Hags probably know, because not only are they brilliant, but they are also country girls. Please help. Also, please let me know if you knew what it was from the first picture, before you Googled.

Here's another shot just in case you wanted to see more of him/her/it:

They Gots Lots Of Soul

Today we passed a building in California that said UBF Soul Factory on the sign.

Ed said, "I wonder what they do at a soul factory?"

I snapped my fingers to show him that not only do I have rhythm, but I also have soul. I could work there.

Then he said, "Do you think there are a bunch of people standing around in there saying 'Hey hey my brotha. Heellll yeahhh.'?"

Eddie Is He Wearing Trousers?? Friday

It's been a while since I've done a Palm Sketch post, so here's one from when Eddie and I were playing hangman.

The stick figure with the pants on was a dead giveaway but Ed still couldn't figure it out! I'll cut him a break though since practically not a soul uses the word "trouser" anymore.

Truckers Are So Sensitive

This comic comes from my favorite cartoonist of all time, Hilary Price, of Rhymes With Orange. If you haven't checked out her site yet, please do so immediately.

I have spent hours combing through her archives and favorites and always find something to laugh at. She's just a genius.

And for the record, I'd haul Brie over I-beams any day of the week.

CTRL Freak

Wishing You All A Happy Lá Fhéile Pádraig

Even though there has been no evidence of snakes even existing in Ireland, this still made me chuckle.


** Lá Fhéile Pádraig = St. Patrick's Day

Busy Week

Oh Lord, this has been a busy week. Two team loads have keep us driving and sleeping and I have to say, I don't like it one little bit!

So, nothing really interesting going on to post about but I'm hoping to get some pictures while we're in Florida since it's always so colorful and sunny down there. I dislike the sun and its heat immensely, but I do like what it does for photos, so I'll deal.

Tomorrow is St. Patty's day and although I've NEVER in my life worn green in celebration of it - I'm Italian, I don't do the St. Patrick's Day thing - I've decided to don my green and white striped top tomorrow since it's the only thing I have with that color in it.

And, since I don't have any juicy tidbits to share, tomorrow I'll be posting a cartoon I found on the Internet regarding St. Patrick. No, Greg, I did NOT know about the snake thing.

The First Bit Of Spring

Tree buds on Main Street in some little town in northeast Kansas. Spring is a comin'! Spring is a comin'!

The Last Bit Of Winter

The "blizzard" aftermath in Fargo, North Dakota. I still don't know what all the fuss was about....a storm is a comin'! a storm is a comin'!

Eddie Monsignor Starbucks Friday

Eddie wearing my neck pillow on his head and Starbucks' newest (awesome!) invention, the Splash Stick, on his face. It's obvious that he gets great joy doing things that he knows will make me laugh. Even better, he holds the pose long enough for a photo!

Crossing Over To The White Side

I used to be able to say, "I've never used jarred sauce", as in Ragu, Prego, etc. Unfortunately, I can no longer utter those words.

Since being in the truck, I've made vodka sauce and marinara from scratch as I always have, but I've also resorted to buying a few pasta sauces in a jar. So far my favorites are from Bertolli. I've tried Tomato & Basil (fresh, slightly chunky and you can taste the basil as if you added it yourself), Mushroom Alfredo with Portobello Mushrooms (nice mushroom flavor and the cream was not too thick or cheesy), Italian Sausage, Garlic & Romano and the Five Cheese with Asiago and Fontina Cheeses (ohhhh, so delicious!). Barilla makes some also, which I thought I'd try because I always buy their pasta; the Three Cheese is the first one I tried and it wasn't too bad.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, my sister-in-law ROCKS the lasagna. Surprisingly, she does it using a jarred sauce. Tonight I called to tell her that I've found some decent jarred sauces and wanted to share the brand names with her. She was all, "Ohhhh, so you've finally crossed over to the white side, huh?" The "white side" being a reference to her being a white girl and not an Italian.

Believe me, she's held up pretty damn well in an Italian family. She was the first white girl in the family since my brother was the first one to marry a non-Italian. She bore the brunt hearing more times than one can count, "What? You use jarred sauce???"

She's since shut us up on many occassions by making macaroni and cheese so rich it'll land you in a hospital, linguini with white clam sauce that puts my stepfather under a spell and the aforementioned lasagna. She's pretty safe though; since she's not Italian, no one will be smacking her in the side of the head with a soppressata upon learning of her jarred sauce usage.

When I first told my brother about the sauces I've discovered, he said "The Italian Police don't care about some wayward Italian making a jarred sauce in her truck. It's not likely that they'll find you." He hesitated, then said, "But I wouldn't tell anyone about it if I were you."

I told my sister-in-law to keep it to herself, that I'd "come out" in due time. I've already come out to my mother and now that my brother knows I'll slowly tell others in the family as I come to trust they won't crucify me upon hearing it.

I never thought I'd say this, but thank God my father has already passed. His heart would have never been able to handle this revelation.

Finally...A Bib That Is Both Functional And Accurate

I don't think I've ever eaten a meal that hasn't found its way to my chest. I've tried everything; extending my neck further over the plate, watching the food on my fork depart my plate and travel to my mouth and have even tried to shake the culprits that jump on my shirt from the fork before they even have a chance to dance on my ample chest area. It never works.

Eddie always tells me I should be wearing a bib; I think I might have to agree. The problem is I want something stylish, that I can coordinate with my outfits, or maybe something clear that won't be obvious to fellow diners. But as you might imagine, there aren't many bibs available for adults.

Today we went to Culver’s and Eddie saw this bib hanging near the condiments area and decided that I just had to have it. If you've never been to Culver's, you are truly missing out. The full name of the restaurant is Culver's ButterBurgers & Frozen Custard. I don't know if they actually put butter on their burgers, but whatever they do, it's the most delicious thing I've ever tasted. They only have locations in seventeen states, so if there is one near you, I suggest you get your Fatty McButterpants over there to try 'em out.

We were in South Dakota when we got "Culverized" and tomorrow we hit our very favorite ribs place in all the nation, Space Aliens Grill and Bar in Fargo, North Dakota. We've been doing so well with making meals in the truck that Eddie thought it was time for a break and figured we'd hit two of our favorites while we were up here.

And the bib? I'm keeping it. How could I not wear something that says, "I'm as cute as a Butter Burger is delicious."

Because I am, you know.

No Hothouse In Sight

Another orchid photo taken at the Franklin Park Conservatory in Columbus, Ohio.

This delicate orchid, which needs a nice warm, water drenched climate to thrive in, would never survive the below zero temperatures Eddie and I are basking in up in Fargo, North Dakota.

Currently it's 12 below zero, but with the wind chill they are saying it feels like 28 below; and it does. No worries though, it's supposed to warm up tomorrow morning. To 3.

Yes, 3 above zero.

Life's A Planet Beach

Since we've gotten the truck, we find ourselves watching whatever we're able to pick up with the digital antenna. We recently watched the Miss Planet Beach International Pageant. No, there wasn't anything else on.

We didn't have to sit through the whole pageant, but we did catch it in time to see the finalists and listen to their reasons for wanting to win the pageant, represent Planet Beach and have the opportunity to win a $100,000 modeling contract and a chance to run their own franchise.

Here are some of the reasons the girls gave for why they would be the best choice to represent Planet Beach:

I like to smile.

I use the product. You're entering a tanning booth spa contest and you tan? Nooooooooo.

When I heard about the contest, I entered it. That's a great place to start.

I like to go outside the box. This was our favorite.

Pretty girl? Modeling?? SO outside the box.

Box, tanning booth; same difference.

No Lifeguard On Duty

Lifeguard shacks overlooking the Pacific Ocean in Southern California.

You Never Know When You Might Need It

Today we met some other truck drivers and sat around for a few hours talking when one husband and wife team began to talk about how they were packin'; both of them had handguns on their person.

I don't really care if someone owns a gun, I just don't really see the need for it. Like Ed said, he's been out here almost thirteen years, in all kinds of neigborhoods and situations, and never found himself in a scenario where a gun was needed.

Then the husband said, "Well, you never need a gun until you need one."

What the hell kind of stupid fucking response is that???

So I guess I should carry a parachute in a backpack, a pack of flares on my hip and a bottle of Cipro just in case I come across an envelope containing Anthrax?

THINK before you speak, people. THINK.

PS: Although, a gun may be pretty handy were I to come across a Komodo Dragon. I don't think the parachute would do me much good in that situation. Unless of course, I encountered it on a cliff....

Eddie Adds Culture To His Day

Ed in New York, on the street in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. August 2004.

Trucking Superhero And Sidekick

I took the Photoshop "colored pencil" tool to a picture of my cousin Ro and I, taken on the night we were in Nyack, NY having dinner with them. We kind of look like comic book characters.

Well, if there were comic books about truckers and their cousins. And what's with my Home Alone expression??

Talk About Making Good Use Of Your Time

Ed decided to finally try and take a shower in the truck while it was moving. He's such a risk-taker! A man on the go! An efficiency trendsetter, if you will.

I was merrily driving along when I heard him shout, "Try and stay on the road! I don't want to have to tell the story about what happened from my hospital bed."

There I was, naked and blinded by the shampoo in my eyes, when all of a sudden...

I'll Get To It As Soon As I'm Done Churning The Butter, Dear.

While researching information for the oversized load we are hauling next week, I came across a section in the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation guidebook that said the following:

The Vehicle Code defines an “Implement of Husbandry” as farm equipment that meets all of the following criteria:

1. Is equipped with pneumatic tires except if prohibited by religious beliefs.
2. Is infrequently operated or moved upon highways.
3. Is used in agriculture for any of the following purposes: a) performance of agriculture production or harvesting activities for the farmer’s agricultural operations; or b) transportation of agricultural products or agricultural supplies for the benefit of the farmer’s agricultural operations.

The term also includes earthmoving equipment and any other vehicle determined by the department to be an implement of husbandry.

I know that "husbandry" is a term that dates back to the 14th century, but hearing it always makes me laugh; especially when it's the term animal husbandry. Though it's old fashioned and has nothing to do with people, it just sounds like a plan for a wild night of sex.

The archaic term reminds me of a conversation Ed and I have almost every single night about something equally archaic. Since I'm in charge of cooking all our meals and making sure he's well fed, he is often in charge of putting ice in our glasses and getting us something to drink. We keep the ice in a big Ziploc bag and sometimes it freezes into a big Ziploced block. When that happens, Ed yells at me for allowing it to freeze solid instead of periodically shaking the bag as it freezes to keep the pieces loose. I always tell him to bang the bag of ice either on the floor, the steps out the back door, or if it's really tough to break up, take it outside and drop it on the asphalt.

And every single night he says to me, "Well, we need an ice pick."

I ask you, my dear readers, WHO in the year or our Lord two thousand nine, has an ice pick?? Except maybe a person who plans on stabbing someone. Other than that, do you know anyone, anyone who needs or uses an ice pick???

Because if you do, will you please get it for me and send it to my house so I can satisfy my Medieval Man the next time he asks for one? I'm sure once he has one, he'll be even more excited to get on with his duties of animal husbandry.

Snagged

Ocotillo plant. Tucson, Arizona

The Hags Hit The Big Time

My blog friends over at at Highway Hags are famous!

They were recently contacted by a radio show producer to be part of a segment on what kind of effect the states have on trucking - you know, crossing through them and abiding by their laws, etc.

Go on over there to hear Hedon's interview. She's in the first segment of the show. When you get to the page, just click on the red arrow below the photo of the states and start listening!