Hot Monkey Sex

Source

Today I was scrolling through Instagram and noticing the many pictures of snowy locales - scenic mountains, ski resorts, cabins in the woods, almost all of the Canadian posts - and telling Ed how I just love the snow.  

Then I came to a picture of a beach on Bali.  I said to Ed, "I'm looking at all these pictures of snow and then I come across this picture, and you know what?  This just doesn't appeal to me at all.  Boing.  Beach and water.  Nothing else.  I'd rather be at any of those places with snow than on that beach."  

Scroll.  Scroll.  Scroll.

"Ooh!  He's cute."  I stop on the photo above and show it to Ed. 

"I might go there if I could see that little guy.  He's in Sumatra."

"Is that where they have that hot monkey sex?" Ed said.

"What??" I said.

"Hot monkey sex.  Sumatra," he said.

"No. No. Noo.  That's not Sumatra." I said.  "You're thinking of Kama Sutra."

He started laughing at himself.

"Kama.  Sutra." I said.

"Oh."




~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2016: Early Warning
2015: Palm Trees And Ocean
2014: Good Morning, Newport
2013: One Very Happy Sloth
2012: Overnight In Ohio
2011: If It Ain’t Sweet, It Ain’t Southern Made
2010: Portland Bound
2009: Dear Blog Santa
2008: The Trees Help Guide The Way
2007: Just In Time For The Holidays
2006: Eddie Leans On A Barrio Door Friday
2005: Glowing Reminders

It Might Take A Minute

Ed and I were cleaning up the cab one day after we had takeout for lunch.

"Hand me your cup and garbage," Ed said.

"What about all your wrappers?" I said.

"You can't reach those?" he said.  "Seriously??"  I was strapped in my seat and could only move so far without unbuckling.

"No, I can't reach them," I said.  "Whadya think, I have snake arms??"

"No one has snake arms." he deadpanned.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 
2016: Couple In Selfies
2015: From The Top
2014: If Your Name Is Tinsley, You Probably Use A Fountain Pen
2013: British Invasion
2012: Splendid Fantasy Road Trip
2011: Hard To Get Close To
2010: Lunch In Fossombrone
2009: Taking Carving To A Whole New Level
2008: Is There Enough Yellow In THIS One For Ya?
2007: I Didn’t Realize Railway Workers Were So Frisky
2006: Individuality
2005: Text Me

A Royal Goodbye

photo source

I often call Ed "sweet pea".

Yesterday he left early to go golfing with his dad and when we woke up I said, "Good morning, sweet pea."

He said, "Why do you always call me sweet pea?"

"I don't know," I said.  "I guess because you're sweet, like uh...a pea?"

"Why don't you ever call me a wasabi pea?" he said.

"I don't know.  Who thinks to call someone a wasabi pea??  I guess I could.  You could be spicy.  But 'sweet pea' is cuter." I said.

He took a shower and got dressed, and before leaving leaned over my side of the bed and said, "Goodbye, penis."

I said, "What?"

And he just started laughing.  I said, "Did you just call me penis?"

He was laughing so hard he couldn't talk.  He sputtered out, "Penis.  You know, pee-nis."

"What??" I said.  Now we were both laughing.

"You know, like "your highness".  But I was saying PEA-ness." he said.

"OK, well, that really didn't come across as you intended, goofball."

He leaned over again and kissed me goodbye and said he'd see me later.

He was still chuckling as he left the room.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2016: Passing Time
2015: The Vast Nothingness
2014: An Amish Gathering
2013: Personalized
2012: Fire On The Island
2011: Harborside Education
2010: Yo, Vin!
2009: Sweeter Words Have Never Been Spoken
2008: More Proof I Ate At A Sushi Place
2007: North Sally Port
2006: Holy Cow!
2005: Wishing

All Tatted Up

This is a real live text from my mother telling me that she's considering getting her eyebrows tattooed.

I'm concerned.  She said her nail girl can do them for her.

Her nail girl? Her nail girl can barely do nails let alone tattoo eyebrows.

I'm seriously afraid she'll go to someone inexperienced and wind up looking like this, or this, or God forbid, this.  

This is how it starts, with an idea and a misspelled text.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2016: Trapping Tourists Since 1965
2015: Selfie In 53
2014: Storm Warning
2013: Another Home Run By Big Ed
2012: A Window On New Mexico
2011: My Man Makes A Mad Meal
2010: Less Is Not More In All Cases
2009: Grain Gone By
2008: The Absolute Beauty Of It
2007: Not Only Did He Pray, He Posed
2006: Camera Phone Coolness
2005: Life Is A Salt Shaker

After I Stop Laughing

Ed asked me today if I'd go camping.

After I stopped laughing, I thought "Did he just meet me yesterday?".

I have only camped once if you can even call it that.  I don't think it was considered "real" camping because there were port-a-potties, but I know I slept in a tent.  For one night, with three other people.  

It was in Central Arizona, at Apache Lake, over twenty years ago.  The only thing I remember is that I felt as if I were sleeping in a zip lock baggie, suffocating from the heat.  I also slept on a rock all night, and I can tell you it was no Princess and the Pea scenario.  Never again.

I can't imagine I'd be very interested in camping at this age.  I like comfort and luxury and air conditioning way too much. I've had to dismantle air conditioning units in hotel rooms to override the thermostat.  You know they rig them, right?  That's probably the only gadget I have mastered and I learned how to do that years ago.  I can't stand a warm hotel room, can you imagine what I'd be like in a tent??

I don't even want to utter a maybe because I don't want to be held to it, but I could possibly consider it if the weather circumstances were favorable.  Which essentially means around 65 degrees.  It's going to take a lot of thought and even more convincing. 

I don't even think even Glamping is going to cut it for me.

Who knows what will happen, though.  Ed has me getting a motorcycle endorsement "just in case" I want to ride someday.  It's going to be a real feat for him to break through the anti-camping barrier.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2016: Manly Ribs
2015: My Brush With Nature
2014: Dear Summer,
2013: I Wrote This After A Day Of Doing Nothing, Sitting On My Ass, While I Watched TV  
2012: The Beautiful Strangler
2011: Art Enables Us To Find Ourselves And Lose Ourselves At The Same Time
2010: Even God Can’t Help Men
2009: My President’s House
2008: Don’t Give Up Hope If You Just Don’t Know What You Want To Be When You Grow Up, You Have Choices
2007: Alright, Mr. DeMille, I’m Ready For My Close Up
2006: Stone Magnolia
2005: Fitty Nine!!!

A Creator's Paradise

Bisbee, Arizona is a very artsy town - "artsy-fartsy" as my mother would say.  If you're looking for eclectic, you've found it.  Lots of galleries in town, but mostly it's the art on the residences, buildings, front yards, and even cars.

I saw these cars and was so busy taking the picture, I said to Ed, "Did you see that one?  It had owls all over it."

"Yeah, I saw it." he said.

"It's an owl car." I said.

"An owl car?" he said.

"Yeah."

"How do you know?" he said.

"It's got owls all over it.  Like, everywhere.  Even on the sides." I said.

"It says owl car on the license plate." he said.

"Really?  Oh." I said.

"Yeah, you didn't see it?  I thought that's why you called it an owl car." he said.

"No, it has owls on it.  That's why I called it an owl car.  I didn't even see the plate."

"Oh."

"Seriously, I didn't see it." I laughed.

Really, I didn't even see it.  But damn, if anyone is going to have OWL CAR on their license plate, that's the car to put it on.  And this is the place for it to be.

Bisbee.  A paradise for creative people.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2016: The Naked Truth
2015: True Civilization
2014: Late Afternoon In South Dakota
2013: Farm To Market
2012: Providence Silhouette
2011: We Got Fatter But We Lost Weight
2010: Stripping, Vitamins, And Cheesecake
2009: Ocean Front Crowd
2008: He Wouldn’t Recommend His Wife To Anyone He Knows
2007: Spring Has Sprung In My Hotel Room
2006: High School Hottie
2005: Sorry, no post on this day. The blog didn’t start until May 2005!

The Party Is Over

Three years ago I bought a pair of pajamas to lounge in while on a trip to Montreal with friends.  I needed something presentable to wear in mixed company.  I settled on a pair of fun pajamas - mixed drinks all over the pants, paired with a lime green top emblazoned with a margarita glass - because of the design, Ed calls them my "party pants".

I like to be comfortable when I'm hanging around.  And with this job, we often hang around a lot.  As soon as we get home we "slip into something more comfortable" to wear around the house (or truck, if we're on the road).  We never sit around in the clothes we wore for the day.

Recently I was going through Ed's stack of lounge-wear and found that the hole I'd been repairing in his Guinness pants had gotten inexplicably larger.  So large that he refused to wear them.  Likely, they'd have to be thrown away.  We mourned.  They're his favorite pants and super-soft from years of washing, but this time the hole was just too big to stitch up.

When he came out of the bedroom in a different pair, he made an announcement that made me laugh.  It pretty much sums up the amount of time we spend in this type of clothing.

He said, "We're the only people I know who wear out pajamas."

Time to shop for new party pants.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2015:  They've Mastered Chocolate, Cheese, And Watches. Maybe They Should Tackle Trucking.
2014: This Is What Sweeping Looks Like
2013: This Takes Fresh Chicken To A Whole New Level
2012: Exemplary Exemplar Prints
2011: Hurricane? What Hurricane?
2010: The Summer Of 1947
2009: From Pablo Neruda To Mother Goose
2008: Almost Two Beautiful To Eat On
2007: Sweatin’ Eddie Friday
2006: Steel City Glow
2005: Bravo, Bravo

Piquing Interest

"Pastrami has arrived at Wienerschnitzel and Culver's is having a big sale on North Atlantic Cod sandwiches!"

This is the announcement my mother just shouted from the kitchen.

While she was making toast.

I'm not really sure what constitutes a "big sale" on cod, but clearly it was something she felt she needed to mention to us.

When we come home, she always questions us, or makes comments about, the food locations we may or may not have visited throughout the country.

"Have you ever had Long John Silver's?"

"What do you think of the Angus Burger at McDonald's?"

"I heard the the fried chicken at Popeye's is better than KFC.  Is that true?"

"Boy, the roast beef sandwich at Arby's looks good.  Have you ever had it?"

"Which do you like better, onion rings from Burger King or the tater tots from Sonic?"

She is Madison Avenue's dream television viewer.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2016: Piquing Interest

2015: Not Your Average Hula Girls
2014: Some Links Are Sexier Than Others
2013: Who Says I'm Spoiled?
2012: So That’s How It’s Done
2011: Sunny Bright Yellow Moments Ahead
2010: Loaded
2009: C’mon, Just Do It Already!
2008: Counterproductive
2007: If You Need A Reason To Cook More Often, I Think I Have One
2006: Warning: May Contain Traces Of Nuts
2005: Sorry, no post on this day. The blog didn’t start until May 2005!

The Oedipus Driving Complex

About two weeks ago I fell off my flip-flop and twisted my left foot. I know, it's like a half-inch off the ground, but the injury was worse than when I fell off the snow tube and hurt my thumb. My ankle was swollen.

The top of the foot and ankle were just puffy enough to leave an imprint from a pressed finger.  Pitting edema. The swelling is almost completely gone now.  I'm the only one that notices the slight fullness. Ed thinks it looks fine. I still have a little pain around the ankle that feels like a bruise, as if someone punched me in the foot.  I'm considering a quick visit to Urgent Care.

Yesterday after reading about ankle injuries online and telling Ed I think I'm dying because my foot hurts, I said to him, "Would you still love me if I only had one leg?"

"Sure," he said, "but we'd have to get an automatic."

Classic Ed.  My foot is 96-hours from amputation and all Ed cares about is whether or not I can still drive.



* Oedipus means "swollen foot" in Ancient Greek

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2014: Summer At Percy Priest
2013: Heat And Humidity Abundant, Wind Nowhere To Be Found
2012: Delicious Eats And Healthy Treats
2011: Special Seasoning
2010: Two Truck Drivers, A Writer And A Photographer Walk Into A Bar
2009: Taking The Express To The Heartland
2008: TIT-illating Sights On The Road
2007: I’ve Been Everywhere Sunday
2006: Embracing Your Inner Bike Riding Hussy
2005: It Takes A Village To Wake A Child

Have Another Piece Of Cake

So, let me tell you what I've been thinking...

I watch more than a fair amount of TV.  Mostly happy and creative stuff (Project Runway, Modern Family, HGTV, Cooking Channel) and musical stuff (Glee, Smash before it was canceled, Nashville) and dramas (Grey's Anatomy, Scandal, Downton Abbey) and smart stuff (History Channel, Discovery Channel, How Things Are Made). 

There are only a few shows I watch that involve killing or stuff that can be construed as "evil" - The Bridge, Tyrant, and Criminal Minds.  I LOVE The Bridge and Tyrant and I've seen every episode of Criminal Minds mostly because my mother is addicted and whenever we're around, she's watching it.

I don't watch Criminal Minds on a regular basis, but last night I was waiting for Nashville to come on so I watched the newest episode.  It was about some guy who abducted women, cut their limbs off to sell them, then dumped the torsos in the woods.  Lovely.

Anyway...

Ed turned to me and said, "They never take the fat ones."

His comment was based on a conversation we've had several times.  Something I brought up in the past, about how fat people are never abducted.  Or kidnapped, human trafficked, sold online, or lured into pole dancing, for that matter.

I mean, I suppose they might be.  But I've never seen it.  It's never in the news.  

It's never on TV shows based loosely on true stories, like Law & Order.  Dun Dun.

It's never on TV shows that are pure fiction.

I've never seen a story (TV or otherwise) where the serial killer targets fat people, man or woman.

I'm not saying I want to see a rash of crimes against the corpulent.  I hope it never becomes a thing.  There are already crimes that take place against those carrying extra weight - they get passed over for jobs, they make less money when they do get them, they are bullied in school, they are ridiculed on TV and advertisements.

And on Criminal Minds, famous for their serial killers - usually sick bastards perpetrating the most disturbing crimes one could imagine - they've never even had a story line where they abduct the fat ones. They don't take their body parts.  They don't carve messages in their foreheads.  They don't lure them into the woods.  Nuthin'.

Which, for us fatties, is the best news ever.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 
2013: I Was Searching For Leather Goods And Found Something To Dream About
2012: Tomatoes Under Glass
2011: The Best Seat In The House
2010: Countdown To Pisa
2009: Eddie Goes Waaaay South Friday
2008: Port Of Long Beach
2007: Layers Of History
2006: Would I Be Cheesy If I Said I Wanted To Drive THIS Rig??
2005: Paper Glow

Ed Drops A Bomb

Today I was talking to Ed, telling him about a 60 Minutes podcast I was listening to that covered the story on how North Carolina was almost nuked in the early sixties during a military accident.  The government withheld the information at the time.

I went through the entire story, how the plane carrying the bomb broke apart and the bombs fell to the ground, and if they had gone off, the devastation would have been worse than Hiroshima and reached as far north as New York. 

He then said, "I don't know what they're going to do about that."

"Who's 'they'?" I said.

"North Korea." he said.

"Who the fuck is talking about North Korea??"

"You were." he said.

"Not North Korea.  North Carolina."

He started laughing.  "Oh." he said.

"Oh my God," I said.  "What is wrong with you??"

"I wasn't listening." he said.

"No shit.  God, I cannot believe you.  You weren't listening to any of it??"

"Well, I heard you say something about a podcast.  But then I stopped listening." he said.

Bomb dropped.  Typical guy.

Well, I guess not so typical since he admitted to not listening.  Now I can't even really be pissed at him.  We're supposed to be happy when they're honest, right?

Shit.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2013: Guarding The Life Of My Eddie
2012: Crash Test Dummy
2011: No Fudd Found Near This Fountain
2010: The Very Thoughtful Man
2009: SPAM: Not The E-mail Kind
2008: How Casting A Memory Begins With A Fish
2007: A Weekend At The End Of The Rainbow
2006: If I Were In People Magazine
2005: Free Mudflap

More Important Than Taxes

I hate video games.  All video games.  Well, except for Pac-Man, Asteroids, Pong and Tetris.  But I haven't played any of those in more than thirty years, so they kinda don't count.

The ones I dislike are the kinds that swallow time.  The interactive, first-person-shooter, go on an adventure like Indiana Jones through an ancient tomb, become a soldier without actually going to war, drive rice burners through the streets of L.A. types. They're all-consuming and when one is playing them, the walls could crumble down around them and they'd just step over the rubble and continue into the next room looking for the zombies or soldiers or whatever the hell they're shooting at.  

Yesterday Ed's phone rang but he was busy and didn't answer it.  Then my phone rang - same number - so I answered it.  It was our accountant.

She said she had just tried to call Ed but it went to voicemail.  I said, "Oh, I know.  He's right here but he was in the middle of something important and couldn't reach the phone in time.  Let me put him on the line."  He was sitting literally two feet from me.

The important thing he was in the middle of?

Playing a fucking video game.

That's right, people.  I covered for my 15-year-old-in-a-39-year-old-body boyfriend.

I know, I rock.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2013:  Stadium Seating
2012: Where Ed Was Found Roaming The Aisles
2011: If You Happen To Have A Few Hundred Million Lying Around, Have I Got A Deal For You
2010: Another Day At The Port
2009: Buggin’ Out
2008: Hangin’ Out With Ray Stoker Jr.
2007: Sunset On The Move
2006: Happy Easter
2005: Sorry, no post on this day. The blog didn’t start until May 2005!

What A Guy Will Do To Get Out Of Watching Girl TV

Yesterday, my handsome boyfriend claimed his rightful spot on the wallpaper of my iPad, and today he did all the laundry.

Hey!  What the hell is going on here??  I do the laundry.  He helps, but it's my job.  It's like my only real job.  But I didn't want to do it.  I wanted to wait and do it over the weekend, but he was so eager to get it done.  I was feeling guilty and said I'd help, but he said, "No, that's okay.  I want to do it."

Who am I to argue?  I let him go.  After he was gone for a little while, I sent a text.  The throwing the clothes in the machine isn't the labor intensive part, it's the folding that takes the most time.

Just sit and relax.  Isn't that sweet??

I was getting a little suspicious though, that he was so eager.  Of course, I didn't have too much to worry about since he was in the truck stop, but sometimes the women there are so excited to see someone in their thirties walk in, and not some guy over sixty wearing a dirty ball cap and greasy t-shirt, that they go a little crazy when my Eddie's around.  I've seen a few heads turn, but I haven't had to bitch slap anyone yet.

He likes to pull my leg though.

Personally, I find it even more suspicious that he chose the exact moment Grey's Anatomy was going to start to be doing laundry.  And there was so much of it he missed Scandal too.  Hmmmm.

Once the laundry is done though, I'm so happy, because it means I don't have to move the laundry bag from one spot to another in the truck to keep it out of the way.  Now there's an idea - I think our next truck is going to have a hamper cabinet.

I have the. best. guy. ever.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2013: Up And Over The Green Mountains Of Vermont
2012: Perhaps She’s A Closet Road Warrior
2011: Fifty-Five Years And Counting
2010: Humor That Needs A Humidifier
2009: Eddie Is He Wearing Trousers?? Friday
2008: Soon To Be Yummy Snack Food
2007: This Is What I’ve Been Doing Lately
2006: 1-800-PRODUCT SATISFACTION
2005: Sorry, no post on this day. The blog didn’t start until May 2005!

It's So EXHAUSTing Being Right All The Time

A few weeks ago when we were home, I walked into the kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks.  "Eww.  What's that smell??"  I said.

Ed was making breakfast and he was just getting ready to fry up some bacon.  I picked up the package, smelled it, and said, "That's bad."

"No it's not." he said.

"Yes it is.  It smells disgusting."

He looked at the date and said, "It can't be bad.  It's not even past the date yet."

"Well, it is.  I wouldn't eat it,"  I said.  "But you do what you want."  And I walked away.

He cooked it anyway.  After taking one bite, he realized it was bad.  And because he cooked his eggs in the bacon grease, he had to throw away his entire breakfast.

When I walked through the kitchen and saw his breakfast heaped in the garbage, I had to say it.

"I told you."

Personally, I would have rather he just listened to me and got rid of the bacon right away.  I knew it was bad.  My sniffer told me.  I mean, why would I want him to go through the lengthy process of making breakfast, to possibly eat something that was going to make him sick?  But, sometimes you just can't tell someone what to do.

Even though I try on a regular basis.  Bossiness is - according to others, not me - one of my less desirable personality traits.

Which brings me to the latest sniffing tale.

For several months I've been telling Ed I smell exhaust.  

I didn't know where it was coming from or what was causing it, but I knew I was smelling it.

"That happens when you turn on the defroster," he said.  "It sucks in exhaust from the other cars."

"Um, no.  I've been using the defroster on this truck for almost five years and it has not smelled like exhaust."

"Well, you don't know what you're talking about." he said.

"Well, I know you're not supposed to get asphyxiated when you defrost your windows.  I know that's not supposed to happen."

"It's in your head." he said.

"Um, no...it's in my nose.  I.  Smell.  Exhaust.  IN my nose.  It's coming from somewhere, and it's making me nauseous."

So he looked for it.  Couldn't find anything.  Or maybe it just didn't present itself when he looked.  But as soon as he started driving, if I were sitting up front with him, I'd smell it.

"There it is again.  I don't know how you don't smell that.  It's so strong."

"You're too sensitive." he said.

"I don't know why you're not taking this seriously.  You know how I am with smells.  I can sniff out anything.  You're the one who calls me a bloodhound.  You joked about renting me out to Border Patrol.  Remember??"

Fast forward to this week.  Yesterday we took the truck in for repair.  We had to get new mufflers because the weld on one of them broke.  But that wasn't where the exhaust I was smelling came from - because this weld thing was a new problem.

This afternoon Ed came back from the shop.  I was standing in the kitchen making cookies, and he came in the sliding door with mail in his hand.  He approached slowly and said in a serious tone, "I have something to tell you."  Oh crap.

Then I saw him looking a little sheepish.  Shifting.  I swear he was kicking a patch of imaginary dirt with the toe of his shoe on the other side of the counter.  

He shuffled from one foot to the other and said, "So, uh, I was at the shop.  And the guy said he was checking out the system and he found...um, under the passenger side of the truck...there was a loose clamp.  It was way up underneath.  He said that it was so loose, he's surprised it didn't come off."

"Uh, huh." I said.  "And?"

"Well...it seems there was a leak."

"So I was right?" I said.

"Well..."

"Sounds like the exhaust I was smelling was probably coming from there, huh?" I said.

"Well, I told the guy that my girlfriend kept telling me she was smelling exhaust, and I kept telling her she didn't know what she was talking about, and now I have to go home and tell her she was right.  And the guy said, 'Yeah, I hate that.'"

"So does this mean you'll listen to me in the future when I tell you I hear something not right, or I smell something funny?"  I said.

"Yeah."

"So where's my apology?" I said.

"That was it."

OK.  I'll take that.  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2013: A Marriage Of Two Loves
2012: I Love A Man Wearing A Damn Good Looking Workboot
2011: MMXI At Full Throttle
2010: Maybe There’s A Reason Ed Never Lets Me Out Of The Truck
2009: Napolitos
2008: Pull Up A Chair
2007: The Story Of The Uppity Barista: Otherwise Known As A Texan Gittin’ Above His Raisin’
2006: Rock, Paper, Eddie
2005: Sorry, no post on this day. The blog didn’t start until May 2005!

When The Awkward Silence Comes BEFORE The Conversation

"I've tried that number several times, Ma'am.  There doesn't seem to be anyone on the other end of the line."

My mother takes "awkward silence" on the phone to a whole new level.

She's got this new thing she's doing when I call (and when others call too).

When she answers the phone, she just stays silent.  Doesn't say a word.  Just picks up the handset and waits.

ring...ring...ring...ring...ring...ring...ring...ring

I hear the phone being picked up, then nothing.  Well, except her breathing. 

And the TV.

And the bells and dings and whistles coming from the Pogo game she's playing on her iPad, which I know is perched on her lap. 

So I wait.

...

...

...

...

...

Then I can't take it anymore. 

"Ma!!"  I'm annoyed and the conversation hasn't even begun.

"Yes?" she said.

"WHAT are you doing??  Why don't you say hello when you answer the phone?"  I said.

"Why didn't you say hello?" she said.

"Because I called YOU and when you pick up the phone, you're supposed to say hello.  Or at least say something.  Grunt, even." I said.

"Well, you could have said hello." she said.  I'm getting more aggravated by the minute.

"That's not how it works," I said.  "The person answering the phone is supposed to answer it with a greeting of some sort.  Usually, it's hello."

She has no good reason for doing this.  I think she assumes the person calling will just hang up.  It's her way of not having her slew of evening TV shows interrupted. 

It's beyond frustrating.

The other thing she does is answer the phone like a feeble, crotchety, wobbly-voiced old lady.

"Huuuullllloooo?" she says, sounding small and frail.

"Ma!  What the hell??  Why are you answering like you're dying??"

"Well..."

"No, seriously.  WHAT are you doing?  Why are you answering the phone like that??" I said.

"I figure if someone thinks I'm old, they won't bother me." she said.

"First, you are old.  Second, do you really think acting like a frail old lady, who can barely hold the phone in her tiny gnarled hand, and who doesn't have enough air in her lungs to even say hello, is a good thing to project?  Why don't you just give them your address and tell them to come rob you because you can't fight back, you're so feeble??"

"They don't know how old I am." she counters.

"No, they don't.  But when you make it sound like you're a fucking hundred years old, hobbling around your house on a walker, dragging your bad leg behind you, you're sending a message that's not accurate.  You should answer the phone like you're a 300 pound lumberjack, getting ready to take down a forest with the cord of your phone."  I said.

"Ma?"

...

...

"Ma?!  Are you there?"

"Yes."

Oh, dear God.  And she's not even old old yet.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2012: Relax And Enjoy The Ride
2011: Goats Make Good Pizza…And You Don’t Even Get Onion Breath From It
2010: When Medieval Equals Pretty
2009: A Great Celebration Of Abundance
2008: Dormers Of Sweetgrass
2007: Old Power
2006: At Your Service
2005: Clothing Identification 101

An Extremely Fishy Climate

As we were leaving Port Townsend Sunday I was talking to Ed about the climate of the area, something I read about on Wikipedia. 

This is the blurb I was intending to tell him about:

"Port Townsend has a moderate Mediterranean climate with chilly, though not severe, and damp winters and warm, dry summers."

So I'm babbling on about the area and the weather and how it's not so bad, and although it's 60 degrees it doesn't feel too cold because there is moisture in the air, blah blah blah.

"I was reading that the climate up here is Mediterranean...chilly and...oh, what was it?  Hold on, let me look it up."  I couldn't remember what I had read earlier in the day, so I got on the iPad to look it up.

In the moment it took me to pause and look it up, Ed said, "Mediterranean chili has fish in it, right?"

He was serious.

I abruptly stopped what I was doing.  Took a deep breath.  Found my calmest voice (because I really wanted to scream) and said, "Baby.  I'm going to point something out right now, and I'm not doing it to start a fight, but I want to show you exactly how much you don't listen to what I'm saying.  I don't even think I can come up with a better example than the one that just took place."

"What?" he said.

"You just asked me if Mediterranean chili has fish in it." I said. 

I waited, thinking he was going to realize his mistake.

"Yeah, so?" he said. "Does it?"

"Oh.  My.  GOD.  I wasn't even talking about fucking chili!  Is that what you thought I was talking about?  What exactly did you hear??" I said.

"I don't know, something about chili.  Mediterranean chili," he said.  "I was listening."

"Ed." I said.  "You were not listening.  I was not ever, nor am I now talking about chili.  I was talking about the climate here in Port Townsend.  I was trying to remember what Wikipedia said about it, which was that it was Mediterranean....then I paused, to say chilly, and...and then I couldn't remember what the rest of it was so I was looking it up.  That's when you asked me if Mediterranean chili had fish in it."
 
"Well, you said Mediterranean chili." he said.

"I said, Mediterranean, then chilly.  There was a pause in there.  I was describing the climate as Mediterranean....chilly and damp is where I was going next.  Like saying, 'The climate in Arizona is desert-like....'  pause  'hot and arid'.  There was more coming after the chilly part.  Chilly as in weather, not chili as in the food."  I said.

His eyes crinkled up and he started to laugh at himself.

"And I'm supposed to think you listen to me?" I said.

"Well, I do most of the time."  he said.

Most of the time.  This reminded me of when he told me that I talk too much and it's hard to remember everything I say.

Classic Ed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2012: This I Love
2011: Wooden Shoes, Tulips, And Now This?
2010: Universal AND Contagious
2009: Ed Smiles With The Pasties Girl Friday
2008: Who Needs A Man When You Have A Kindle??
2007: Phone Calls And Fellatio
2006: Color Ring
2005: We Go All Out!

And Then The Rains Came

We are still working on the bike mounting project.  It's evolved something like seven times already.  We picked up the bikes today - after we bought them yesterday, we left them at the shop so they could put the fenders and racks on (and my bell!). 

We rode around a bit, went to the hardware store, then back to the truck to figure out what we were going to do.  We were in the bike shop parking lot but needed a bigger selection of stuff, so we decided to just put the bikes in the sleeper and head over to the Home Depot we'd been parked at for the last few days.  After getting what we needed in the store, we decided to go for another ride before working on getting the bikes mounted.   

It was still hot - we're in Texas, after all - and I was already sweaty, so I figured I may as well get some wind on me to cool me off.  That's the thing about humidity, compared to somewhere dry like Arizona.  In Arizona, the air is hot.  Like a blow dryer.  Arid.  An oven.  So even when the air is moving, it's still hot.  Hot wind.  It's miserable.

But in a place where it's humid, even though it's hot, once you get that wind going - whether by a fan, a bike ride, or an open car window - the air is cool.  It's cooler wind.  Until you stop moving.  Then you're drenched from the humidity again.

Speaking of drenched... 

After our ride, we started working on the bikes again.  Almost two hours in and the sky was getting black.  I kept saying to Ed, "It's gonna rain."  Then, "Wow.  There's a lot of lightning.  And thunder.  It's really gonna rain."  He said, "And?"  So we kept working, against my better judgement.

I started picking up all the stuff around the bikes - the straps, velcro, chains, rubber tubing, bike locks, lights, etc. - and put them in the truck.  I had a feeling that the sky was going to just open up.  Then I felt drops.

"I feel drops!" I said to Ed.

"Well, I don't feel 'em."  he said.

"That's cause you're moving and I'm standing still.  Oooh, there's another one.  It's gonna rain." I said.

"So you're telling me it's raining over there, on you, but not over here on me?" he said.  We were forty feet apart.

"I'm telling you I feel drops.  Just hurry up, we've gotta get the bikes under the tarp."  I said.  I swear, I'd make the best damn drill sargeant the military has ever seen.  I am bossy AND loud.

"Ed!  Drops!!  I feel drops!!  It's going to rain any second now.  WHAT are you doing??  Get the bikes, c'mon!"  I said.

We unrolled the felt pads, Ed standing on the trailer, me on the ground.  I picked up his bike and handed it up to him on the trailer.  The drops were steady now, but small.

We put another felt pad on top of that bike, then I handed him the other bike.  He placed that one on top and we unrolled the other felt on top of it.  The drops were getting bigger.

Then we put the tarp on, frantically trying to cover all edges, and the sky opened up.  Torrential rain.  Biblical rain.

I ran to get my umbrella, which turned out to be mostly useless.  We ran to get bungees, Ed opening the side box, me holding the umbrella over our heads.  Our backs and legs were getting wet.  My feet were completely underwater, my leather ballerinas sucking up water. 

We finished as a bright flash lit up the sky.  The bikes were covered.  Dry.

We were SOAKING WET. 

We got back in the truck, peeled off our clothes, twisted the water out of our shirts and my capri pants, put our soaked shoes on paper towels up front.  And it was still raining.  We were clearly done for the day.

We've been here nine days already, and probably won't leave until Monday or Tuesday.  We'll ride more this weekend and finish mounting our bikes.  I think we've almost got it figured out.

Our biggest issue at this point is a bike cover to keep the road schmutz off the bikes.  We have an idea, I just don't know how it's going to work yet. 

Tomorrow is another day. 

And for once I'm hoping it'll be sunny and dry.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2012: When You Need To Point Out Which One Is Herb
2011: A Road Diverged In The Wood And I Lived To Tell About It
2010: I’m A Researchin’ Fool
2009: The Closest I’ll Ever Come
2008: Who Is He Kidding?
2007: The Captain Of My Vessel
2006: Baking Is Fun!
2005: Sticks And Stones