Hangin' in a hallway in Half Moon Bay .
Friday, November 09, 2007
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
How Many Times Do You Have To Burn Your Hand Before You Stop Touching The Hot Stove?
I'm SO very tired of hearing the sob stories from people who chose the wrong path in life. People who wind up in dead end jobs, women who consistently date the wrong guy, morons who commit ridiculous acts like this and specifically, people who wind up in jail and think they are owed some sort of special treatment.
If you hate your job or don't like making minimum wage, do something about it. Go to school, learn a trade or perfect a skill. If you want to be chosen for a job, don't show up in a backwards baseball cap and baggy jeans to fill out the application; the person you hand that application to might be the one making the decision on whether or not to employ you. If you are going on a job interview, dress like you're going on a job interview. Take a shower. Comb your hair. Wear a skirt. LOOK like you want a job. LOOK like you take pride in your appearance. LOOK like you are going to add something to the company rather than being their next problem.
If every guy you date turns out to be a loser, maybe it's time to take a look at the choices you make in that department. Are you always attracted to the same type? Do you never date outside of that type? I have a friend that complains that she can't find a nice guy, yet she won't consider a second date with a guy because he wore a flowered Hawaiian shirt on the first. You're going to judge a guy based on his shirt?? How do you know he's not the one who is going to treat you like you deserve? You never even gave him a chance. She's a good catch. She's smart and funny and attractive and responsible. She deserves a great guy. But she's just picky. Well, maybe if you stop being so picky and give someone a chance to really show you who they are, you'd find a nice guy. It's just a thought.
That mother that left the kid to die in her car? She should not only be jailed, but she should be sterilized and never allowed to have another child in her life. WHO forgets their kid in the car? WHO??? I don't understand how people like this are allowed to even have children. My friend Greg used to say that people have to take a test to get a driver's license, but any moron can have a kid. How true. I can't even express how I feel about people who don't treat their children well. People who have no business having children at all. People who should have had their children taken away from them YEARS ago. It's not a matter of "opinion" and who's right and who's wrong. If there is ANY person who thinks it's okay to leave a child in a hot car for SEVEN hours while you work your shift at Hooter's, they need to have their head examined. There are NO good reasons or excuses for this. You should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law and pay for your negligence.
And speaking of paying for your crimes; what's up with those people who think that inmates should have rights? People in jail deserve what they get. Whether it's bad food, limited access to television, no free time, no cigarettes or cable or access to college educations. You are IN JAIL. That's what being IN JAIL means. If you were so concerned about your freedoms, perhaps you should have considered not doing whatever it was that got you INTO jail in the first place. You don't have choices. You can't demand cable. You can't complain that the food you eat isn't as good as what you get at home. You cannot get an education.
These are the things you GAVE UP when you chose to commit the crime that put you IN JAIL in the first place. This chaps my ass more than almost anything (well, except for child molesters) and gets me in such a tizzy that if I had the power to put everyone on a chain gang and feed them all bologna sandwiches, I would.
Yeah, yeah, I suppose there is are some people who have been wrongfully incarcerated, and oh well, sorry for you, but I'm not talking about those people. I'm talking about people who COMMIT CRIMES; who knowingly and willingly commit crimes and then expect to have cushy surroundings when they get to jail. It's JAIL. See, that's supposed to be a deterrent. I'm not in jail. I know what is right and wrong, legal and illegal. And I don't do the illegal stuff because I don't want to be IN JAIL. It's that simple.
If you are IN JAIL, you should have NO RIGHTS. NONE. You are incarcerated. CONFINED. Not allowed to have and do and be certain things. No, you shouldn't have the right to a free education when people out in the world who haven't committed crimes don't have that same right. You shouldn't get to watch TV and work out and go to the library and enjoy social hour in the courtyard. You are IN JAIL. You should be used for free labor. You should be put to work for the good of the society.
If you continue to do the same thing, over and over again, don't expect any type of sympathy from me. You'd have to be crazy to think you'll get it.
If you hate your job or don't like making minimum wage, do something about it. Go to school, learn a trade or perfect a skill. If you want to be chosen for a job, don't show up in a backwards baseball cap and baggy jeans to fill out the application; the person you hand that application to might be the one making the decision on whether or not to employ you. If you are going on a job interview, dress like you're going on a job interview. Take a shower. Comb your hair. Wear a skirt. LOOK like you want a job. LOOK like you take pride in your appearance. LOOK like you are going to add something to the company rather than being their next problem.
If every guy you date turns out to be a loser, maybe it's time to take a look at the choices you make in that department. Are you always attracted to the same type? Do you never date outside of that type? I have a friend that complains that she can't find a nice guy, yet she won't consider a second date with a guy because he wore a flowered Hawaiian shirt on the first. You're going to judge a guy based on his shirt?? How do you know he's not the one who is going to treat you like you deserve? You never even gave him a chance. She's a good catch. She's smart and funny and attractive and responsible. She deserves a great guy. But she's just picky. Well, maybe if you stop being so picky and give someone a chance to really show you who they are, you'd find a nice guy. It's just a thought.
That mother that left the kid to die in her car? She should not only be jailed, but she should be sterilized and never allowed to have another child in her life. WHO forgets their kid in the car? WHO??? I don't understand how people like this are allowed to even have children. My friend Greg used to say that people have to take a test to get a driver's license, but any moron can have a kid. How true. I can't even express how I feel about people who don't treat their children well. People who have no business having children at all. People who should have had their children taken away from them YEARS ago. It's not a matter of "opinion" and who's right and who's wrong. If there is ANY person who thinks it's okay to leave a child in a hot car for SEVEN hours while you work your shift at Hooter's, they need to have their head examined. There are NO good reasons or excuses for this. You should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law and pay for your negligence.
And speaking of paying for your crimes; what's up with those people who think that inmates should have rights? People in jail deserve what they get. Whether it's bad food, limited access to television, no free time, no cigarettes or cable or access to college educations. You are IN JAIL. That's what being IN JAIL means. If you were so concerned about your freedoms, perhaps you should have considered not doing whatever it was that got you INTO jail in the first place. You don't have choices. You can't demand cable. You can't complain that the food you eat isn't as good as what you get at home. You cannot get an education.
These are the things you GAVE UP when you chose to commit the crime that put you IN JAIL in the first place. This chaps my ass more than almost anything (well, except for child molesters) and gets me in such a tizzy that if I had the power to put everyone on a chain gang and feed them all bologna sandwiches, I would.
Yeah, yeah, I suppose there is are some people who have been wrongfully incarcerated, and oh well, sorry for you, but I'm not talking about those people. I'm talking about people who COMMIT CRIMES; who knowingly and willingly commit crimes and then expect to have cushy surroundings when they get to jail. It's JAIL. See, that's supposed to be a deterrent. I'm not in jail. I know what is right and wrong, legal and illegal. And I don't do the illegal stuff because I don't want to be IN JAIL. It's that simple.
If you are IN JAIL, you should have NO RIGHTS. NONE. You are incarcerated. CONFINED. Not allowed to have and do and be certain things. No, you shouldn't have the right to a free education when people out in the world who haven't committed crimes don't have that same right. You shouldn't get to watch TV and work out and go to the library and enjoy social hour in the courtyard. You are IN JAIL. You should be used for free labor. You should be put to work for the good of the society.
If you continue to do the same thing, over and over again, don't expect any type of sympathy from me. You'd have to be crazy to think you'll get it.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Monday, November 05, 2007
Green Acres Is The Place To Be, Solar Living Is The Life For Me
Ed and I recently visited the Solar Living Institute in Hopland, California. Dedicated to environmental education, they teach you how you can help the environment by reducing waste in every area of your life.
They teach living "green" in their seminars on straw bale home construction, making bio-diesel, using energy efficient lighting, water purification systems, installing solar panels on your home, using composting toilets, etc.
Ed is very interested in all aspects of this kind of living and with some things, I'm right there with him, but I definitely draw the line at these.
They teach living "green" in their seminars on straw bale home construction, making bio-diesel, using energy efficient lighting, water purification systems, installing solar panels on your home, using composting toilets, etc.
Ed is very interested in all aspects of this kind of living and with some things, I'm right there with him, but I definitely draw the line at these.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Ahhhh....Ahhhhh.....Aw Shit!
While driving California Route 1, up the California coast this weekend, we stopped to take pictures of the ocean and beautiful coastal scenery. I let Ed loose with my camera and this is what he captured - a surfer, just seconds before he wiped out.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Belated Greetings From The Great Pumpkin Pile
This was supposed to be my Halloween post, but I forgot! Asheville, North Carolina.
Friday, November 02, 2007
Big Teeth And Dancing Just Don't Mix
My mother has a love/hate relationship with reality TV, but she is getting the hang of watching it as she is now hooked on Dancing With The Stars.
This week, as she was watching, she had me on the other end of the phone, telling me how annoyed she is that Marie Osmond was still safe.
“Why, don’t you like her?
“I’ve never liked her; or the Osmond Family, for that matter.”
“Really?” I said, as she continued heaping verbal praise on those she does like (Helio and Juilliane) and wishing broken ankles on those she doesn’t (Marie Osmond and Jane Seymour).
“God no. I’ve always hated the Osmonds. They just have too many teeth.”
“Too many teeth??”
“Yeah, like beavers. They have huge, bucky beaver teeth.”
I wonder what she'd have to say if she saw those plastic surgery pictures?
This week, as she was watching, she had me on the other end of the phone, telling me how annoyed she is that Marie Osmond was still safe.
“Why, don’t you like her?
“I’ve never liked her; or the Osmond Family, for that matter.”
“Really?” I said, as she continued heaping verbal praise on those she does like (Helio and Juilliane) and wishing broken ankles on those she doesn’t (Marie Osmond and Jane Seymour).
“God no. I’ve always hated the Osmonds. They just have too many teeth.”
“Too many teeth??”
“Yeah, like beavers. They have huge, bucky beaver teeth.”
I wonder what she'd have to say if she saw those plastic surgery pictures?
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Where Defacing Rocks Are A Work Of Art
These rocks can be found along the thirty mile approach road to Fort Irwin, located about an hour north of Barstow, California in the Mojave Desert. Quite in the middle of nowhere.
It's no wonder they're known for their excellent desert training - the only thing they have in abundance out there is wide open space and sand.
Here is a close of up the rock pile. The paintings depict unit insignias and slogans from all over the country and out here in the desert, it's the most colorful thing you will see.
Here is a close of up the rock pile. The paintings depict unit insignias and slogans from all over the country and out here in the desert, it's the most colorful thing you will see.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Isn't He Comcastic?
Last week, my mother was watching my four year old nephew Jake and as usual, any day with the him is an adventure.
He loves to watch TV; specifically commercials. Why, no one knows. But he’ll often blurt out as my mother is flipping through channels, “Leave it there, Nana! I like this one.”
So this week, while my mother was slicing tomatoes in the kitchen and he was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for her to put together some lunch, she hears him talking and turns to listen to what he’s saying.
“I am Comcast.”
“What?” my mother says to him.
“I am Comcast.”
She sat down at the table next to him to watch the commercial with him.
“I am Comcast.”
Each time, he put the emphasis on a different word, similar to the commercial, which shows different people saying “I Am Comcast” to depict the diversity of the customers they reach.
"You like this commercial?" my mother asks.
"Yeah, Nana, it's one of my favorites."
When I called my brother to tell him what my mother just told me, he said that sometimes he’ll hear Jake walking through the house singing the Nationwide Insurance song. Nationwide is on your side….
This kid is Madison Avenue’s dream demographic.
He loves to watch TV; specifically commercials. Why, no one knows. But he’ll often blurt out as my mother is flipping through channels, “Leave it there, Nana! I like this one.”
So this week, while my mother was slicing tomatoes in the kitchen and he was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for her to put together some lunch, she hears him talking and turns to listen to what he’s saying.
“I am Comcast.”
“What?” my mother says to him.
“I am Comcast.”
She sat down at the table next to him to watch the commercial with him.
“I am Comcast.”
Each time, he put the emphasis on a different word, similar to the commercial, which shows different people saying “I Am Comcast” to depict the diversity of the customers they reach.
"You like this commercial?" my mother asks.
"Yeah, Nana, it's one of my favorites."
When I called my brother to tell him what my mother just told me, he said that sometimes he’ll hear Jake walking through the house singing the Nationwide Insurance song. Nationwide is on your side….
This kid is Madison Avenue’s dream demographic.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
HMMWVs
High Mobility Multi-purpose Wheeled Vehicle. Humvees.
We picked these up at the AM General plant in Mishawaka, Indiana and hauled them to Fort Irwin, CA. They had HUNDREDS of these vehicles scattered around the facility, painted in both the desert sand color and the army greem camoflauge color.
They weigh 6 tons (12,000 pounds) each, are plated with 2" steel, have 3" glass in the windows, run on eight-cylinder diesel engines, are equipped with air conditioning inside (a new feature) and boast a fire suppression system that releases at the touch of a button, the same stuff they put in fire extinguishers, just in case there is a fire inside the vehicle. They have a cool turret on top and Ed said they can drop them from helicopters with parachutes attached so they can hit the ground running. Pretty amazing.
Everywhere we went along our two thousand mile route, people stopped and stared.
We had one guy who pulled up next to us and was taking pictures. And this was even before he saw the total cuteness of me staring out the teeny window:
We picked these up at the AM General plant in Mishawaka, Indiana and hauled them to Fort Irwin, CA. They had HUNDREDS of these vehicles scattered around the facility, painted in both the desert sand color and the army greem camoflauge color.
They weigh 6 tons (12,000 pounds) each, are plated with 2" steel, have 3" glass in the windows, run on eight-cylinder diesel engines, are equipped with air conditioning inside (a new feature) and boast a fire suppression system that releases at the touch of a button, the same stuff they put in fire extinguishers, just in case there is a fire inside the vehicle. They have a cool turret on top and Ed said they can drop them from helicopters with parachutes attached so they can hit the ground running. Pretty amazing.
Everywhere we went along our two thousand mile route, people stopped and stared.
We had one guy who pulled up next to us and was taking pictures. And this was even before he saw the total cuteness of me staring out the teeny window:
Monday, October 29, 2007
The Bridges And A Cowboy
This weekend, we visited Madison County, Iowa; the birthplace of John Wayne and home to the bridges made famous in Robert James Waller’s novel, The Bridges Of Madison County.The picture above and below are of Cedar Bridge, which graces the cover of Waller's novel.
The town of Winterset was also in the movie, as it was filmed on location, and as we drove through town, we saw several places featured in the movie. There are six bridges left today, but we only visited this one due to the size of the truck and how hard it is to maneuver small spaces. At least now I can say I saw a bridge in Madison County; and also the birthplace of a cowboy named Marion.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures
Twenty three minutes after midnight, in a hotel room in Ogallala, Nebraska, I got a craving for a crunchy chip. Since the vending machine was practically right outside our door, I decided to venture out myself, rather than asking Ed to go, which is what I normally do.
When hanging out at a hotel, I'm typically clad in a tank top, shorts and slipper socks; and since I'm lounging, I'm also braless. Well, except for the "built-in" shelf bra in the tank top...you girls know the kind I mean.
So here I am, in the hallway, getting a Diet Coke and a bag of Doritos; a chip I don't even necessarily like, but it was the lesser of all the evils in the vending machine. I put my quarters in the slot, punch H-3, the buttons that correspond with my treat, and wait.
Nothing.
The chips are stuck in the coil. Just one edge of the bag, but still stuck. So I give the machine a little jiggle. Nothing.
I bang the heel of my hand on the glass. Nothing.
I pull the machine slightly forward and give it a little shake. Nothing.
Since it's so late, I don't want to make too much noise, but I want my chips, dammit. I shake the machine more violently now. Still nothing. There is no way I'm walking all the way down to the front desk braless, in socks and with unshaven legs to ask for my seventy-five cents back.
So I go back to the room and get Ed, knowing that he's going to give me the evil eye and not want to get out of bed where he was cozily watching TV, to go into the hallway and help me. I tell him my chips are stuck and I need him to shake the machine. Surprisingly, he agrees.
We decide that if we put another seventy-five cents in the machine and choose the bag of chips one row over, they will graze my bag on the way out of their row and help mine to fall from the evil grip of the vending machine. Great idea, but it doesn't work. Because guess what? That bag gets stuck too.
So now I'm down a $1.50 and I still have no freakin' Doritos. Ed starts shaking the machine; lightly at first, gently back and forth and then with a bit more force, pulling it away from the wall, leaning it so far forward that I can no longer see the items through the glass. I'm still worried about the noise, looking around to make sure no one sees or hears us and found the coast still clear.
Oh, did I mention that Ed is in his underwear? Yup. No shirt, no shoes, no socks; just checkered boxer shorts and wild, pre-sleep hair.
The noise was getting louder and I was on the verge of giving up, when one bag dropped! Another quick look around, more banging and shaking and the other bag drops. Just as we turn to go back to the room, we see the front desk clerk peering down the hallway at us. We pretend we don't see him and scurry back to the room with our loot.
I laughed to myself when I imagined the scene that poor kid witnessed; two out of shape truck drivers, in their underwear, shaking food out of the vending machine at midnight.
If it were not for my fabulous new lipgloss, it might have been a very ugly scene.
When hanging out at a hotel, I'm typically clad in a tank top, shorts and slipper socks; and since I'm lounging, I'm also braless. Well, except for the "built-in" shelf bra in the tank top...you girls know the kind I mean.
So here I am, in the hallway, getting a Diet Coke and a bag of Doritos; a chip I don't even necessarily like, but it was the lesser of all the evils in the vending machine. I put my quarters in the slot, punch H-3, the buttons that correspond with my treat, and wait.
Nothing.
The chips are stuck in the coil. Just one edge of the bag, but still stuck. So I give the machine a little jiggle. Nothing.
I bang the heel of my hand on the glass. Nothing.
I pull the machine slightly forward and give it a little shake. Nothing.
Since it's so late, I don't want to make too much noise, but I want my chips, dammit. I shake the machine more violently now. Still nothing. There is no way I'm walking all the way down to the front desk braless, in socks and with unshaven legs to ask for my seventy-five cents back.
So I go back to the room and get Ed, knowing that he's going to give me the evil eye and not want to get out of bed where he was cozily watching TV, to go into the hallway and help me. I tell him my chips are stuck and I need him to shake the machine. Surprisingly, he agrees.
We decide that if we put another seventy-five cents in the machine and choose the bag of chips one row over, they will graze my bag on the way out of their row and help mine to fall from the evil grip of the vending machine. Great idea, but it doesn't work. Because guess what? That bag gets stuck too.
So now I'm down a $1.50 and I still have no freakin' Doritos. Ed starts shaking the machine; lightly at first, gently back and forth and then with a bit more force, pulling it away from the wall, leaning it so far forward that I can no longer see the items through the glass. I'm still worried about the noise, looking around to make sure no one sees or hears us and found the coast still clear.
Oh, did I mention that Ed is in his underwear? Yup. No shirt, no shoes, no socks; just checkered boxer shorts and wild, pre-sleep hair.
The noise was getting louder and I was on the verge of giving up, when one bag dropped! Another quick look around, more banging and shaking and the other bag drops. Just as we turn to go back to the room, we see the front desk clerk peering down the hallway at us. We pretend we don't see him and scurry back to the room with our loot.
I laughed to myself when I imagined the scene that poor kid witnessed; two out of shape truck drivers, in their underwear, shaking food out of the vending machine at midnight.
If it were not for my fabulous new lipgloss, it might have been a very ugly scene.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Eddie Fresh From A Nap Friday
Fresh from a nap. Isn't he cute when he wakes up??
** Have I posted this photo before? I am old now, I don't remember. If so, let me know and I'll pull a fresh one out of the Eddie vault. Thanks!
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
California Burning With Need
Watching the coverage of the California fires on CNN this week, got me thinking. As I listened to people being interviewed at the scene of the fires, I was continuously surprised by how many of them didn’t want to leave their homes. They just refused to go; they wanted to stay and protect their belongings.
Their belongings?? Seeing how devastating the flames were, how it engulfed such a large area and how it was spreading at such a high rate of speed, I think I would have asked a few questions of those future displaced people. Questions like, are you out of your mind? You want to risk your life to save a HOUSE?? A house. And things?? Stuff? Items which, for the most part, can be replaced? I have never been in a fire, and I hope I never am, and I do understand the loss of possessions which often represent a life and an identity can be devastating, but I don’t think more devastating than losing life itself.
It made me ask myself what my most treasured possession is and what I would save from a fire. What would I choose to take? Do I even have a treasured possession? How hard would my choice be? Do I take pictures? My grandfather’s guitar? My father’s ring? My mother’s wedding dress? My baby book? My journals, which include my diaries from grade school?
Man, oh man, I just don’t know. The thing about my life now, is this: Everything I need on a daily basis is with me in the truck, so if I had to save something from the truck, it would probably be my computer. Other than that, there isn't anything else in the truck that I would miss if it went up in a fiery ball of flames.
As for the stuff that’s not in the truck, depending on how much time I have, I think I would definitely try to take my grandfather’s guitar and as many photo albums as I could carry. Other stuff could really be replaced, and most of my digital photos have been backed up, but childhood photos and those that lay out my family history in living color (or black and white as it were) are the ones that I’d would really like to have.
I have been very fortunate to have never been in a situation like the people in California are; living in shelters and with family or friends, watching their neighborhood and watching their homes being destroyed. I do hope in some small way, they can learn a valuable lesson from this; realizing that things really don’t matter, people do.
And I wouldn’t care one iota about the stuff flaming before my very eyes, because I would know then, as I do now, is that I have everything I already need.
Their belongings?? Seeing how devastating the flames were, how it engulfed such a large area and how it was spreading at such a high rate of speed, I think I would have asked a few questions of those future displaced people. Questions like, are you out of your mind? You want to risk your life to save a HOUSE?? A house. And things?? Stuff? Items which, for the most part, can be replaced? I have never been in a fire, and I hope I never am, and I do understand the loss of possessions which often represent a life and an identity can be devastating, but I don’t think more devastating than losing life itself.
It made me ask myself what my most treasured possession is and what I would save from a fire. What would I choose to take? Do I even have a treasured possession? How hard would my choice be? Do I take pictures? My grandfather’s guitar? My father’s ring? My mother’s wedding dress? My baby book? My journals, which include my diaries from grade school?
Man, oh man, I just don’t know. The thing about my life now, is this: Everything I need on a daily basis is with me in the truck, so if I had to save something from the truck, it would probably be my computer. Other than that, there isn't anything else in the truck that I would miss if it went up in a fiery ball of flames.
As for the stuff that’s not in the truck, depending on how much time I have, I think I would definitely try to take my grandfather’s guitar and as many photo albums as I could carry. Other stuff could really be replaced, and most of my digital photos have been backed up, but childhood photos and those that lay out my family history in living color (or black and white as it were) are the ones that I’d would really like to have.
I have been very fortunate to have never been in a situation like the people in California are; living in shelters and with family or friends, watching their neighborhood and watching their homes being destroyed. I do hope in some small way, they can learn a valuable lesson from this; realizing that things really don’t matter, people do.
And I wouldn’t care one iota about the stuff flaming before my very eyes, because I would know then, as I do now, is that I have everything I already need.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
Sunday, October 21, 2007
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