I was contacted by a woman regarding this graphic that was created by her and her team - she found me by searching for blogs and posts about traffic. She wanted to know my opinion. Well, I suppose some of these items apply to truck drivers, although it seems most of the information is regarding the general motoring public. I personally don't mind traffic, I find the people-watching from my vantage point pretty interesting. What I do like that I found among all this information, is the 135-degree reclining seat. Now I might just be into one of those! Check out all the stats here.
This is one of my favorite songs on Whitney Houston's I Look To You album. I'm posting it for a few of my friends who've been struggling and who've had some difficult changes in their lives. This is for you Kim, Melissa and Marie!
I Didn't Know My Own Strength
Lost touch with my soul I had nowhere to turn I had nowhere to go Lost sight of my dream Thought it would be the end of me
I thought I'd never make it through I had no hope to hold on to I, I thought I would break
I didn't know my own strength And I crashed down And I tumbled But I did not crumble I got through all the pain I didn't know my own strength
Survived my darkest hour My faith kept me alive I picked myself back up Hold my head up high I was not built to break I didn't know my own strength
Found hope in my heart I found the light to life my way out of the dark Found all that I need here inside of me
I thought I'd never find my way I thought I'd never lift that weight I thought I would break
I didn't know my own strength And I crashed down And I tumbled But I did not crumble I got through all the pain I didn't know my own strength
Survived my darkest hour My faith kept me alive I picked myself back up Hold my head up high I was not built to break I didn't know my own strength
There were so many times I wondered How I'd get through the night I thought I took all that I could take
I didn't know my own strength And I crashed down And I tumbled But I did not crumble I got through all the pain I didn't know my own strength
My faith kept me alive I picked myself back up I hold my head up high I was not built to break I didn't know my own strength
I was not built to break, no, no I got to know my own strength
"Yeah, the one with the girl that was murdered at the beginning." I said. "Mystic River."
"And Kevin Bacon..." she said.
"Right, and the boys were molested or something when they were young." I said. "By a priest, I think."
"No, it was a cop." she said.
"Well, whatever. It was Mystic River." I said.
"No, that's not it." my mother said, convinced I was wrong.
"Yes, there was that one scene where the boy was looking back, out of the car window as it drove away. Remember? I'm telling you, it's Mystic River." I said.
"No. Sean Penn was in it." she said.
"I think you guys are talking about two different movies." my brother said.
"No, we're talking about the same one." I said.
"I don't think so." my brother said, unconvinced.
After a few minutes of silence, my mother blurted out, "Mystic River! That's the name of it."
"I just said that!" I said.
"When?" she said.
"Ma. Seriously?? I just said it THREE times." I said.
"I thought you said Mr. Criver." she said.
My brother and I looked at her like she was crazy.
"You thought I said Mr. Criver?" I said.
"Yeah." she said.
"Really?"
"Yes." she said.
"OK, so when you heard "Mr. Criver" three times, didn't you search your brain and know that there's not a movie called Mr. Criver and maybe I was saying MISS-TIC River?" I said.
"Well, no." she said. "I was too busy trying to figure out who Mr. Criver was."
And that is pretty much how most holiday gatherings go with my family.
That's right, I'm a truck driver but I'm not very good at backing up the rig. Before you judge me, let me explain.
We hardly do any backing up. Really.
We pull a platform trailer - a 48' aluminum flatbed with a spread axle. At most of the shippers and receivers we go to, all that is required of us is to show up in the yard or facility and typically, they come to us. When we get to a shipper, we position ourselves where they request, and then a forklift or crane will load the freight. Then we strap, or chain, or tarp, and go on our way. The process is reversed at the other end.
In my defense, when I was practicing in trucking school way back in 2006, I did have to park a van trailer in a "hole" - an imaginary dock set up on the school grounds - as part of my training in order to pass my test. They taught us how to park the trailer from a 45 degree angle - the trick was making sure the tandem axles on the trailer pivoted at just the right point. After a while I got the hang of it and it felt kind of easy.
Then I got into our truck and tried to back up our trailer, which has a spread axle. First, there is no pivoting on a spread. When backing up, the spread axle actually pushes the back end of the trailer where you don't want it to go, making it difficult to swoop it right into the spot the way you want it to go. And it's difficult to start at a 45 degree angle. Ed has this little trick, where he pulls up at slight angle to the spot he wants to get into and then just gently guides the trailer in. Unless it's a tight or oddball spot, he doesn't even need any pullups. I've tried doing it his way, but just can't. And if I were to try to pivot on the tires, Ed would have my head on a platter. Damaging tires is not on the list of things he tolerates.
When I do park, I try to find a pull-thru or a big open parallel parking spot. That, I can handle. Even a slightly snug parallel spot in a rest area is easier for me to tackle than backing into a tight spot in a truckstop. In the truckstop, there's so much to look at - the trucks on either side (especially your blind side), the trucks parked in the row in front of you, and the assholes that insist on driving behind you when you're trying to back up. Oh, and cars. Sometimes there are cars. I'd rather drive to the next truckstop or rest area than deal with all of that.
Thing is, in addition to not backing regularly in the course of a normal work week, I also don't practice in our off time. I don't need any help finding things to do other than practicing my backing. I am always envious though, when I see other people doing it. Oh, there are lots of guys who will drive around looking for a spot to pull straight into, or try to back into a spot and just can't make it. I've seen people just give up and leave the truckstop altogether. In that case, I know we have a spot for the night if we need one, because if there's a spot that no one else has been able to utilize, Ed can get us into it. I'll even wake him up if I have to, as I've yet to see a spot he can't get squeezed into.
I feel being able to back up masterfully, and not just into the easy spots, will make me an even more awesome driver. Especially as a woman driver. In a car, I can get in anywhere, I've even parallel parked for boyfriends or other people I've been with when they couldn't get into a spot. I am the queen of the tight New York City parking spot. But in a big rig? I don't have it down yet. And when I hear about some of the jams my driver friends get themselves into, especially GiGi, I'm totally amazed. She pulls into a lot of docks and driveways that I wouldn't even attempt. I'm in awe.
If there's anything that would make me feel like a completely accomplished driver, backing up flawlessly would be it. I don't want to just be able to back into a spot when the parking lot is wide open, I want to do it when it's packed and there are only a few spots left. I want to know I can tackle those spots without a hitch.
What's funny about this is a story my mother always told about my grandfather. My mother has three sisters, and when they learned to drive my grandfather taught them how to drive in reverse first. He said if they could do that, they could do anything. And they did.
I took this from the passenger side of the truck while it was moving. I am using the Hipstamatic app on my iPhone. Within that app, you can choose which "film", "lens" and "flash" style you want. The same shot using different options comes out completely different. Very cool.
This was taken in Ranger, Texas which is located approximately 125 miles west of Dallas, on Interstate 20.
This video was sent to me by my mother. Her friend's niece is the mother of quads (and a five year old) and this is her singing on the video, getting the children to follow her voice into the bedroom for their nap. I'd never heard this song before and have been humming it ever since I watched the video. Then I started to look around for the lyrics to the song and other versions of it. I found a version I liked by Paul Potts (which I bought from iTunes), and then this video where the song is sung by Andrea Bocelli.
Just beautiful.
I'd follow the singer of that song anywhere if there's a nap waiting at the other end of it.
Today while sitting around the company terminal in Grand Prairie, Texas, Ed and I decided we might as well go get our DOT physicals done. By law, we have to get them done every two years. I had been a little hesitant because my normally perfect blood pressure of 120/80 had been a little high.
In order to get a two-year medical card, you can't be over 140 on the top number or 90 on the bottom number. I had been monitoring my own blood pressure in the truck for over a month, with a blood pressure machine my mother lent me. I even have an Excel spreadsheet, averaging the readings over time. Needless to say, it was the only thing on my mind that morning.
For a fat chick, I'm pretty damn healthy. I don't take any medications, my blood sugar is always good (my mother is diabetic and has pricked my finger many times to take my blood sugar), I rarely get sick, I don't have any physical limitations or issues (save recent intermittent joint pain in my left ring finger), don't have high cholestrol, rarely get sick and have never had high blood pressure. That's more than I can say for some of my thinner, younger and exercising friends and family members.
Anyway, got a little sidetracked there, but it'll tie back in later, I promise. So Ed and I went to the clinic a few miles from the terminal, signed in, and sat in the very full waiting room with the rest of the crowd. Everyone in there was waiting on the same thing - a DOT physical. It looked like we'd be there all day. Ed was called in, but was back out within minutes - they had taken his blood pressure, did his eye exam, height and weight, etc. They sent him back out until an exam room was ready.
Then the sky started to get dark. A storm was coming in for sure. But it wasn't just a storm, which we found out when someone changed the channel from ESPN to the Weather Channel. It was a tornado. Actually, several tornadoes. So as we sat there, we were watching this on the local news:
About twenty minutes into watching this, the manager of the facility came out into the waiting room and asked everyone to please come back into the interior of the building. So the group got up and filed into the hallway inside the clinic. The waiting room was all glass and it was clear they wanted everyone to get to a safer location.
The tornado sirens were going off and the manager had a weather radio pressed up against his ear. I guess this is a normal April in Dallas, as most of the people seemed more irritated that they were just standing there, rather than worrying about the four tornadoes that were touching down all around us. Just then, the nurse called my name. Great.
As she ushered me to the back, I joked about it being a bad time to get a blood pressure reading, that since I wasn't from this area, the whole tornado thing was a little unsettling. She took my height and weight, asked me to read the eye chart, and handed me a cup for the pee test. After I got the all clear on that, she sat me down to take my blood pressure. Uncharacteristically, I was a little freaked out at what the results might be. And with good reason.
When the cuff expelled all its air, I turned my head to the nurse and she blurted out my blood pressure.
"What??" I said. "That's got to be wrong."
"Yeah, it is a little high," she laughed. "Don't worry, we'll take it again later." Damn right we take it again later. Thankfully, the second reading was much better. Down around my regular neck of the blood pressure woods. The doctor loved me - he said I was sufficiently flexible, he discovered I actually did have a heart, and my hearing was spot on - he passed me with flying colors.
After the physicals were over, we naturally went to for a bite to eat. On our way to the nearby restaurants, we passed a lot of debris from the storm. Fences were down, roofs were torn off, trees were uprooted, car windows were broken, even WalMart was temporarily closed due to damage. The restaurant we ate at lost a good amount of their roof tiles and the scaffolding from an area of the mall where they were doing renovation was strewn across the parking lot. It looked like a tornado went through!
After everything died down, we got online and saw a few pictures. One of the most amazing was this one, of the local Schneider trucking yard:
A a trucker friend of ours drives for this company and said that as far as she knew, there were no fatalities but she wasn't sure if anyone was hurt. The carnage is really unbelievable. Loaded trailers on the road aren't very stable in the wind, these empty ones were just thrown around like toothpicks. You can see more here:
Ed and I were so fortunate to have not been in the path of these tornadoes. I always kid about how we seem to always escape the natural disasters of the country - mudslides, earthquakes, Nor'easters, tornadoes - and how I always wish we could see just one. Well today I was glad that we (narrowly) escaped the path of destruction. I don't know what I would have done if we were on the interstate and I saw that funnel cloud coming toward us. It's not like trucks move fast to begin with, and unlike cars, we can't just pull a u-ey and head in the opposite direction.
And had not been at the clinic, we would have been sitting in our truck not watching the Weather Channel, that's for sure. We wouldn't have even known it was coming. I'm sure one of us just would have commented on the darkening sky, the wind and the suddenly pounding rain, but not even considering where it came from.
There was definitely more than luck on our side today.
This bridge on Highway 60 takes you from Ashland, Kentucky to Highway 52 in Ironton, Ohio. There are two bridges here, crossing the Ohio River - the one heading east (this one) is blue and the one crossing the river in the other direction is green.
Certainly makes giving directions easier, "If you're on the green bridge, you're going the wrong way..."
I can't remember where I snapped the picture of this Mail Pouch barn - I think it was Ohio - but it coulda been Kentucky. Either way, they're a pretty cool sighting as there aren't many of them left.
I took this picture in rural Greenup County, Kentucky, located in the far north-east tip of the state, in the range of mountains known as the Appalachians. This place was tucked so far up in the hills, on a tiny, winding, two-lane road, that I had to drive 35 mph for almost the entire thirty miles in from the main highway.
I took the picture to get the price of gas. I'm guessing the station has been closed for quite some time, as the price on the sign reads $1.69 per gallon. And that's for super-unleaded.
Even though I lived in Kentucky for a while, I've never spent any time in the eastern part of the state, especially not up in the hills, where everyone is probably kin with one another. I've always been a bit fascinated by Appalachia and have always wanted to explore. And many years ago I learned about the Blue Fugates, which has fueled that interest even more.
Riding the narrow roads through the hills brings to mind every hillbilly stereotype imaginable, many not far from the truth. I didn't see any moonshine stills, but I don't reckon they're too much out in the open anyway. Probably hidden out back behind the barn.
On our way out, Ed was telling me about the brief conversation he had with a few of the local guys working the job site where we unloaded. Then he turned to me and said, "You know...if you lived here, you'd be the smartest person around for 100 miles."
I've seen plenty of teams in trucks before but none as cute as this - and I'm not a dog lover. In fact, I don't even like dogs. But when I saw these two, I had to snap a picture. I whistled, they both came to the window, and then looked right over at the truck while I took their picture.
They sort of look like an old couple, don't they, him with the grayish beard and all? A very alert old couple, but one that's clearly comfortable together. Their body language is perfectly in sync.
So last night I was driving while Ed was in the back preparing for bed. I was on Interstate 10 in Beaumont, Texas and it was almost 8:30pm. It was dark and I was traveling in the center lane of three.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a white pickup come up on the driver side of the truck. It caught my eye because it was keeping pace with me, kind of lingering. Usually, most people - especially asshole pickup drivers, and almost always asshole pickup truck drivers in Texas - can't wait to get away from or around a big truck. They hate being behind or near something so slow. But this guy was just hovering.
I looked over and although I couldn't really see in his truck because it was semi-dark, I thought he had his shirt off. I also thought I saw his hand is in his lap. Then it occured to me that he may have been masturbating!
So I took another quick look, seeing he definitely didn't have a shirt on. I could see he was wearing glasses, that he was kinda fat (not flabby fat, just the hard, barrel belly kind of fat), and that he seemed to be around 38-45 years old.
I yelled back to the sleeper to tell Ed to look out the window on the driver's side, "Check out this guy in the white pickup. I think he's naked. Or shirtless. Something. And I think he's jacking off."
Ed moves like a glacier, so by the time he looked, the guy had fallen back, crossed behind the trailer and started to approach in the right lane. I yelled again to Ed, "Baby! Look out the kitchen window. The guy in the white pickup. Tell me if you can see anything. I swear I think he's naked."
Here's a still shot of the pickup truck approaching on the passenger side, taken from the truck video camera:
Ed waited for him to get near the window, while I glanced at the side view mirror, waiting for him to get closer to the front of the truck. That's when I heard Ed say, "Yep. He's naked."
"Totally naked??"
"Yep. And he's got his dick in his hand, totally jerking off."
"Are you serious?? You can SEE his dick?? And he's really naked?"
"Yep. Big fat guy. Naked as a jay bird. Jerking off." he says.
Oh. My. God! The pickup then got close to the passenger window, and when I looked over, I saw the top of his head and could see he was looking over at the truck, but I couldn't see his face.
Ed was asking where my camera was, but I told him to forget it because it was dark and the guy was falling back again anyway, now almost to the back of the trailer.
"He's slowing down. Almost to the back of the trailer now." I said.
Ed told me to slow down, but I didn't want to be obvious, and I certainly didn't want this guy to think I was into looking at him, but I was looking because I wanted to see if he was really, truly, driving down the road with no clothes on.
I moved over to to right lane now, and he was coming up on my left. I said to Ed, "I'm gonna light him."
"No, don't." Ed said.
I wanted to shine the spotlight into his pickup to a) get a better look and b) try to embarrass him. Which when you think about it, probably wasn't going to be possible since he was already driving through Beaumont, on a busy interstate, buck naked.
I got the spotlight in position and waited for him to pull up next to me. Once he was in position and started to hover again, I quickly looked over to judge his position and then flicked the spotlight on.
Right into the cab of his pickup. Right. On. His. Dick.
He was most definitely, absolutely COMPLETELY naked. You'd think a guy who does this would just unzip his pants, or just pull his pants down, leaving his shirt on. Maybe pulled up a bit for full exposure. But this guy decided to go Full Monty.
He just had his dick in his hand (or penis...who knows what the preferred way of calling it is in a story like this), stroking it proudly, and flicking the head of it in my direction.
I was flabbergasted. Yelling, "Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" to Ed. So many thoughts were flying through my head, and then I saw him starting to fall back again. I switched off the spotlight and watched him go behind the trailer, then veer off to the right getting off an exit.
So my thoughts were...
How often does he do this?
How did he know it'd be a woman driver when he sidled up next to me, naked? Or did he not care what gender the driver was.
Who is he? He didn't look seedy...he was just a regular looking guy and his truck was a newer model.
Why??
And then a good question my friend Vicki pointed out when I told her...
Did he get into the car naked or did he take all his clothes off in the car - either before driving or while driving?
I'm sure veteran drivers have seen things like this many times, but it still amazes me that it happens. The only other incident like this one, which also happened while I was driving, involved a woman.
When I relayed the story to my mother, her first thought when I told her I spotlighted the guy was, "What if he follows you?"
"Mom, he's not going to follow me."
"Well maybe he'll just wait for you to stop. Then he'll get you." I tell you, she watches too much TV.
"Ma, we just filled up with fuel, it's a team run, and we're only stopping to switch out. He's going to have to jerk off for the next seven hours if he's planning to follow me until I stop."
And law enforcement is worried about people texting?? I'd say this is the epitome of distracted driving.
I've been a Corvette fan since birth and have been wanting to go here for years, but just haven't had a chance since we're rarely in Kentucky.
I'd love to own one, but my Corvette days are probably behind me - I'll probably have a walker before I have a Corvette. I guess I'll just have to settle for a visit to the museum and manufacturing plant.
I don't know much that makes me happier than musicals. Any show with music in it, is usually an automatic hit for me. I also like shows that feature unknown singers, like American Idol, America's Got Talent, and the only one I currently watch; The Voice. I'm amazed by the talent. Just amazed. This week CeeLo even cried.
But my real favorite on Monday night stars a former American Idol, Katherine McPhee. She stars in Smash, a musical drama that follows the lives of a group of theater types - producers, directors, writers, actors, dancers, singers - as they put together a musical based on the life of Marilyn Monroe.
I'm a total sucker for talent, so as long as there are smash performances, I'll be watching. What a great way to start my week.
I've been driving through South Texas for the last week admiring the blue bonnets. They always remind me of one of my favorite Dixie Chicks songs, Cowboy Take Me Away. The song begins with the following lyrics:
I said I wanna touch the earth I wanna break it in my hands I wanna grow something wild and unruly I wanna sleep on the hard ground in the comfort of your arms On a pillow of blue bonnets in a blanket made of stars
It's an old song, and every time I have heard those lines, I've wanted to find a cowboy to lie in a pillow of blue bonnets with. Well, I have Ed now and since he's from Dallas, I consider him as close to a cowboy as I'm getting; and nightly we lay on memory foam, not blue bonnets, but maybe someday.
In addition to the beautiful fields of blue bonnets in the area, I found something else. Maybe even more delicious than a cowboy. Czech kolaches. Cream cheese Czech kolaches.
I found them at Frank's Restaurant in Schulenberg, Texas - a family run place for over 80 years. I bought a package and squirreled them back to the truck for dessert. They were baked at Weikel’s Bakery in nearby La Grange and delivered fresh that morning - delicately sweet and delicious, a dollop of sweet cream cheese surrounded by a pillow of pastry.
I've driven by signs advertising kolaches hundreds of times in Texas, but crazy as it may sound, never stopped to try one. Schulenberg has a history of German and Czechoslovakian settlers, and is known for local bakeries specializing in kolaches, so stopping to admire the blue bonnets turned out to be a tasty little stop-off.
And I'm having a really hard time deciding which is more appealing - a pillow of blue bonnets, or a pillow of pastry.
Sweet is not how one should describe a grown woman. The second I hear the words, "She's so sweet." come out of someone's mouth, my immediate thought is, Ugh. I'd probably hate her. She's probably one of those manipulative bitches who gets what she wants by appearing to be "sweet" but is likely the furthest thing from it.
I usually never like someone who has been described as sweet. Well, unless they're a little girl under the age of six. After that, a girl can be kind, precocious, sassy, adorable, delightful, animated, happy, whatever...but no longer sweet.
To me, "sweet" is fake, and I don't like fake. I don't like that uncomfortable smile that people plaster on their face, the one where their lips move but their eyes don't smile. The polite smile. The I-hate-you-but-I'm-going-to-smile-anyway smile. I think it's because our society puts a lot of stock in nice. Nice is prized. Nice is preferred. Nice is expected. Nice is what everyone wants to be seen as. Even if they're not.
I'm a big believer in "actions speak louder than words". I may be bossy, I may say things people don't love hearing, I may even piss you off. In fact, I'm sure I will piss you off (at some point). But when it comes to my showing you that I have your back, that I love you, that I'm there for you, that I really care, you will know it. Because I actually DO, in actions, what I say I'll do. What you need me to do. What the right thing is to do.
Saying please and thank you is right. Bringing something (wine, flowers, dessert, etc.) to someone's house when you're invited for dinner is right. Offering someone something to drink when they're in your home is right. Holding the door open for a woman, the elderly, anyone really, is right. Asking someone who you don't really like so much to stay for dinner, because they're the friend or family member of someone you love, is right. Sending a sympathy card? Right.
It's simple. It's the things you learned as a kid. You know what they are. And you know when you're wrong. You might ignore the nagging in the back of your mind, because you want to do what you want, think you have the right to do what you want. And you do have that right, but it doesn't mean it'll be the right thing to do.
I have met several people with sweet exteriors; people who are truly selfish, self-centered within. People who can't be bothered to put themselves out for their own family, let alone others. People who don't want to be inconvenienced. People who keep secrets and don't share any details of their lives but then expect you to understand them and accept them, when they haven't given you anything to understand. When they haven't shared one teensy little bit of themselves. They're users. They know how to be nice when they need or want something. And because they come across as "nice" and "sweet", if you were to refuse, you'd be the one who looks unreasonable.
I don't value nice. I don't fall for sweet. I see you for who you really are.
And if someone says to me, "Oh, so-and-so is so nice, isn't she?"
Today I went for a walk with Ed while we were waiting for the shop to do an electrical system check on the truck - the voltage meter was spiking and Ed wanted to know why. I wasn't too keen on walking because a) I fucking hate to walk and b) I fucking hate the heat. And we are in South Texas, where the heat is constant and brutal. And by brutal, I mean anything over sixty-five degrees.
And today was well over sixty-five. Today, my friends, was well over eighty degrees - that's way too much mercury for me. Ed tricked me by saying it "wasn't that bad" and there was "a breeze". I should have known better, but I figured I would just go and get it over with and maybe he'd stop bothering me. He also said, "They'll be done with the truck by the time we get back."
Well, if you know anything about trucking, you know that the repair shop is NEVER done when they tell you it's going to be done, that was an out and out lie. So we walked. A little over thirty minutes, around the truckstop. The scenery was less than inviting. I saw a ramshackle taco shop, a hotel that had a room designated for "massages", and several pee bottles. One of them was actually a pee gallon. Who pees that much in a bottle and then throws it out the window? Pigs.
I took the photo above on our walk. The tiny pink flowers were sprouting up next to a chain link fence enclosing a yard of abandoned equipment. Perhaps the urine helps the flowers flourish. That was about as good as it got. I was a raging bitch by the time I got back to the truck. First, the shop wasn't done. Second, my head was sopping wet. Third, I lost thirty minutes of my day that I won't get back. And last, I needed a shower but couldn't take one in the truck because the yahoos in the shop were still standing around looking at each other, trying to figure out what was wrong.
Ed suggested I take a shower in the truckstop. I think it's been a couple of years since I've had to do that - I don't even remember the last time - so I packed up my bag and headed in with Ed. Using his UltraOne card, he got me a "Platinum Shower", a phrase which was also emblazoned on the door when I got there.
It was not platinum anything. There were two towels, a washcloth and a bath mat. Towels they apparently think people want to buy according to the sticker on the mirror. They were less than luxurious. The shower was cramped and on the "un" side of clean. There was a new fan (the old ones are usually caked with dust) which was nice, but it was just blowing around humid air.
The water was intermittenly hot and cold, which would have been a problem if I had the water any hotter, but since I don't like a scalding shower the blasts of cold water were nice. I can't say I felt better afterwards, though. By the time I blew my hair dry, I was hot again and my face was beet red.
I put my makeup on, opened the door, and gathered my things. I went to the restaurant to meet Ed. He wasn't there, so I sat at the counter and had a Diet Coke. Within minutes, a guy a few seats down started flirting with me. I chatted back to be nice, but as soon as Ed walked up, the guy put his face down in his plate and didn't say another word to me. Ed left to pay for the truck repair and texted me when he was done. On my way out, another guy, an older gentleman, gave me the once over. Twice. He even held the door open for me, smiling with a twinkle in his eye. But as soon as he saw me walk towards our truck, which Ed had waiting for me right outside the door, he quickly scurried off.
So although I was sweating like a sow less than an hour earlier, I must've been pretty cute after my shower. It gave me a little ego boost, but nothing can take the place of the ice cold air conditioning in the truck that my baby had cranked up for me, in anticipation of my arrival. Just one more reason I love my guy.
The truck had an alternator problem, which was all fixed and partially paid for with the UltraOne points we accumulate every time we get fuel. It only cost us $300.00 out of pocket. Total score. We drove off to look for a comfortable spot in the parking lot, and hunkered down in the truck for the evening. We just did three back-to-back loads and we're off until Monday.
My friend is looking for a job. She's also looking to move. Currently, she lives in Arizona, and although she loves the weather, she wants a change and she's ready to go anywhere and do anything.
I've suggested my all time favorite place - Nashville. I've given the "it's got four seasons, there's an airport minutes away from where I envision you living, there's a beautiful private university and medical research center smack in the middle of town, the housing is inexpensive, there are beautiful lakes and mountains, and the people are super-nice" pitch, but she's still on the fence. Her focus is a little skewed right now, as she recently lost her job, but she's got ideas for her future and there are places they can happen. Personally, I hate Arizona, so I'll never be suggesting that she stay there. The job market is miserable, the pay is abysmal when you do get a job, and I personally don't know how anyone really wants to live in such an ugly, arid wasteland.
I've also suggested Asheville, North Carolina; Louisville, KY; and anywhere in New York state, preferably the Catskill or Adirondack mountain area. She's mentioned California (too expensive), Denver, and Florida. The real problem with this is no matter where she's goes, she'll be doing it blind - most of the places she's considering, she's never been to. When you have limited funds, it's hard to go check these places out.
I've advised her to take the Find Your Spot quiz, which through a series of questions helps determine the best place to live based on your preferences. I've taken the quiz in the past, and it gave me a list of places I'd like living, most of them being right on target with my likes and dislikes.
I find moving and/or changes to be very exciting. I've never been concerned about finding a place to live or worried about getting a job and she's much the same way - she's done it before (as a single mom!) successfully and said she's never had any fear. But now that's she's older, doubt is creeping in.
I know she'll find her target soon and will be on her way to building a brand new life. I've tried to sell the truck driving life to her, but she's not biting yet. Maybe when her son goes off to college and the nest is empty, she'll break out and become a wild adventurer!
And I'll be right there to help her along - I may not be all that "wild", but I have been a few places.
It's rare that we pick up freight at a place where hard hats are required, but every once in a while, we come across one. They want the hard hat, safety vest, safety goggles, steel-toed boots. Since all of that stuff is stored in the sidebox, it's a pain in the ass to dig out.
Since I don't usually do any of the loading unless Ed needs my help, I didn't have to dig anything out, and this place only required the hardhat and safety goggles, so it wasn't too difficult to find those two things.
I love the way Ed looks when he puts his hard hat on, so construction-site-sexy. And I'm also glad he does all the hard, hard-hat work on loads on a day like today, when the air is hot and steamy.
ShopRite is one of my favorite grocery stores to visit when I'm back in New York. It's not that they have the best stuff - they pale in comparison to a Wegmans - but they're familiar. They are the grocery store of my childhood. The one with the Can-Can sales.
There are only a few grocery chains that I'll shop at throughout the country, and I stick to mostly the major ones in the area, but some are better than others. Wegmans has to be my all time favorite, but when I'm in Ohio I shop in Meijer, in California I go to Ralph's or Stater Bros., in Nashville I pop into Kroger and in Florida I like Publix.
I don't do discount grocery stores and I wouldn't set foot in a Food Lion. I've been in a Piggly-Wiggly, but once was enough. How can you not go into a store named Piggly-Wiggly? I prefer to stick to stores that sell beautiful produce, have a cheese department to die for, good meats and a large international foods aisle.
I'm a bit of a food snob when it comes to certain things and I just won't settle for less. If they don't have it, I'll do without. And some of these places are non-negotiable, regardless of time of day because of what's available to me - if I'm anywhere near Columbus, Ohio you can bet I'll be stopping at Meijer to get my favorite cottage cheese. It could be three in the morning, I will waltz in there in my pajama bottoms and stock up on five containers minimum. OK, let's be realistic - I would likely sweet talk Ed into going in, but whatever.
I live for the twenty-four hour grocery store. And nothing beats shopping when there are no crowds.
I personally don't mind traffic, I find the people-watching from my vantage point pretty interesting. What I do like that I found among all this information, is the 135-degree reclining seat. Now I might just be into one of those! Check out all the stats here.
I personally don't mind traffic, I find the people-watching from my vantage point pretty interesting. What I do like that I found among all this information, is the 135-degree reclining seat. Now I might just be into one of those! Check out all the stats here.
