Published

I found out today that one of the photos (above) I submitted to a "Kodak On The Road Moment" contest is going to be published in the March issue of the Pilot Challenge magazine.

It's a publication put out monthly by the Pilot Travel Centers, a truck stop chain that we frequent all over the country.

Not only is my photo going to appear in the magazine, but it took first place and I won a digital camera!!! What a fun way to start out the new year!

My first published photo. Whadya think about that, Greggie??

Getting Wet In The Next County

I don't drink, so it doesn't really matter much to me, but I can't believe I lived 34 years before finding out what a dry county was.

I grew up in New York, and although they may exist there, I had never heard of it. I only learned about dry counties when I moved to Kentucky and was trying to cook one weekend and needed some wine for the meal I was making. I left everything on the stove and ran into town to pick up a bottle of wine.

When I got to the store, I asked one of the cashiers where the alcohol section was and she pointed me to the opposite corner of the store. When I made my way over there, I realized she sent me to the area that sells rubbing alcohol. I went back to explain to her that I needed wine, not rubbing alcohol.

"Ohhhh. We don't sell that."

"You don't sell wine??"

"No."

"Well, who does?"

She rattled off some place I never heard of, followed by the words "in the next county."

"The next county???"

"Yes, ma'am. This is a dry county. No one here sells wine."

I thought I had moved to Mars.

I realized after living there for a while that the funny thing about the whole dry-county-trying-to-keep-the-residents-sober-and-Christian-like-and-cut-down-on-alcohol-related-accidents is, most people wind up making their beer runs drunk. To the next county.

So instead of someone running to the corner store for more beer on a Friday night, they're piling their drunk redneck asses into their pickup truck with the rebel flag emblem in the window and driving to the next county.

Can't beat the intelligence of redneck lawmakers.

James Cameron For $79.99 A Night

Last night, Eddie and I were lounging around in a hotel room somewhere on the Eastern seaboard, which was the perfect location for the movie we were watching; Titanic. I didn't like the movie much the first time around, but since I have a blossoming new love for Leonardo DiCaprio, I watched it again, keeping a close eye on his boyish good looks.

We missed the beginning, but I didn't really care. Whether you see the beginning or not, you still know it ends with a sinking ship.

Well, just as that ship was sinking, the water gushing in and filling the lower decks where my beloved Leo was traveling (who puts a hottie like that in steerage??), I started to hear running water. I ignored it for a minute, but it got so loud that Ed looked over at me and said, "What's that?" which prompted me to lower the volume on the 'ol sinking ship movie.

It was water; not just the sound of water. We got up to investigate and found water gushing from the ceiling in the bathroom. Ice cold water. Lovely. Just as I was getting all comfy in bed, dabbing the tears I was shedding for my dying Leo, James Cameron is yelling "Cue the water!" in my room. WTF?

Moving rooms in the cold dark of night is a real pain in the ass once you're in your jammies but at least now I can say that the movie, the second time around, was so real I actually felt like I was in one of those staterooms.

Well, minus all the dying and stuff.

Silly Boys

(Photo courtesy of the What On Earth catalog.)

My cousin just gave me this t-shirt. I kinda dig it. And like my trainer said, "Men might learn quicker, but women make better drivers."

Yay for girls!

Finding Your Way

I get a newsletter every month from one of my favorite websites, Changing Course, and there is a line on the home page of that site that states, "As far as I'm concerned, life is too short to spend toiling at a job that pays the bills but doesn't feed your spirit."

I am a firm believer in that statement, except I usually say something like "life is too short to do a job that sucks."

I have always been one to seek a job that I like, not just take a job to pay bills. This has led to many short lived jobs; like the one my brother got me at a carpet distributor that led me to quit by lunch time. My brother wasn't too thrilled to find out that I quit by leaving a note telling them I was never coming back, but I wasn't too thrilled to be sitting across from a woman who's voice could have cut diamonds. I knew it wasn't for me.

Same thing when I did a temp job at a lawyers office. I was relegated to a back storage room that they converted into a makeshift office area. The office smelled like stale beer, the carpet was disgusting, there were no windows and the guy who was my boss was constantly foaming at the corners of his mouth like a rabid dog. Nope. Couldn't do it. Called the temp agency and told them I was going to lunch and not coming back if they didn't find me a different position starting the next day.

I am now doing a job that I wish I found 20 years ago, as I would have been retired already. The travel, the money, the freedom and the unstructured environment couldn't be more my style. I love every minute of every day. I don't think I've ever said that about another job I've had, and I've had some pretty good jobs. But since I am now self-employed, everything is different for me. I don't have to ask anyone for a day off, I don't have to be to work at any particular time, I don't have to meet any deadlines for fear of losing my job and I don't have to deal with the lady at the next cubicle who wears perfume that would gag a goat.

The joy I feel doing what I do is far surpassed by the joy my best friend feels doing what she does. For years, she has been volunteering at her children's schools, putting in more time and effort than I have at most jobs I got paid for. She did it for free. It brought her joy.

Although a conversation didn't pass where I said she should get paid for her time, she always waved my words off with the flick of a hand, stating how she loves it and wouldn't care if she ever got a dime for it. The teachers at the school love her. The kids LOVE her. The parents love her. She looks into the little faces of five year olds who say "Miss Vicki, I love you" on a daily basis. That was enough of a paycheck for her.

But a recent development in her life now has her doing the same thing and getting paid for it. She is now employed doing the very thing she loves. And although she'd still do it for free, she isn't. She wouldn't notice if they pulled the paycheck right out from under her nose; she'd still be doing it. I am thrilled for her. The glee in her voice, the lively tone and the bursting joy I can hear in her tone makes me wish I could be there to see her glow in person.

She has found her calling. Her right livelihood. A job, that she doesn't even see as a job, tailored so precisely for her that the fit is perfection. Her work has meaning. And she doesn't for one minute do it for the money.

Christopher Morley, an American journalist, novelist and poet said, "There is only one success - to be able to spend your life in your own way."

I believe she has found her way.

You Gotta Be In It To Win It

I wanted to be like the luckiest guy in Georgia; so I bought a lottery ticket. In Georgia.

Obviously, Georgia isn't any luckier a state than anywhere else in the country, but I figured if this guy could win more than once, my odds might be pretty good.

No luck. I went to the website to check on the winning numbers and as usual, I didn't have even one.

Who wins these things? I mean, I know people win because we hear about it on TV and read about it - especially in the local paper where it happened, but what the freak?? Why don't I ever win?

I should have better odds than most people because I can buy a lottery ticket in every state I travel through. Although, I don't do that. Perhaps I should because as an old lottery advertisement once said, You Gotta Be In It To Win It.

I'm going to get right on that and buy tickets at every place I stop. After all, what's a dollar when the chances of winning millions are just a scratch away??

Florida Fro

There Are Never Enough Hours In The Day To Do Anything When You Have A Baby

Since it's been a while since we last talked, I called my cousin Ro last night and finally had a chance to catch up with her.

I told her of everything we were up to; where we were, how my driving test went, where our next load is picking up, our plans for a Bahamavention in the form of a cruise and when I think I'll be heading her way so we can finally exchange Christmas presents.

I asked the usual questions. What have you been up to lately? How was Girls Night Out? Has it been cold there? Are you still taking classes? Have you done any work on the house? Did you go skiing this season? How's your man?

You know, regular conversation. Everyday stuff. Things I probably already know the answers to but ask anyway because I like to stay connected and in the moment by knowing what's going on.

She responded with her usual rhetoric about how she's tired when she gets home from work, stuff that needs to go in the attic is piling up in the living room, the remodeling is in perpetual limbo since a family member is doing the work and they have to work around his schedule, blah blah blah. She sounded exasperated and frustrated. I just wanted to fly up there and help her with all her organizational and remodeling needs!

Then, in the same weary tone, she said "It's just so hard to get everything done. You know, with the baby and all."

Confused, I said, "Baby??"

"Yeah. Stephanie next door had her baby. A boy. He's so cute. Well, we've been trying to help her out and it's just been so much. We watched the dog for her and you know how he is."

I said, "You crack me up. You're the only person I know who uses someone else's baby as an excuse for not having enough time to do anything!"

She laughed and protested, as if dog sitting has been all consuming. I know the dog and he is quite a handful, but still. At least I can always count on her to make me laugh!

Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta run. Someone's baby is crying.

When You Just Can't Decide Between Dinner And Breakfast

While in Lithonia, Georgia, we came across a new place to dine; Gladys Knight and Ron Winans Chicken & Waffles. Everyone has heard of Gladys Knight and for those who don't know the late Ron Winans, he is part of the multi award winning musical dynasty, The Winans Family; often referred to as the first family of Gospel.

We were greeted at the door by a dreadlock adorned young man who made us laugh before we even got to our table, setting the tone for the rest of the meal. It was a warm and welcoming atmosphere, making you feel as if you were dining among family, instead of being in a room full of strangers. The upbeat vibe seemed to blanket the whole place, evidenced by the room full of laughing and smiling patrons.

Eddie ordered the Chicken and Waffles (see picture) and I ordered Uncle Ron's Southern Fried Chicken, which came with yams, fried corn and a sweet little piece of cornbread.

I like the concept of not having to make a decision between breakfast or dinner. Having both on one plate seems to end that debate nicely.

Snowball In Hell

(Photos courtesy of my friend Greggie)

Last night it snowed in Tucson, Arizona. Here are the pictures to prove it.

So the next time someone tells you that you don't have a "snowball's chance in hell" to do something, ignore them.

We now have photographic proof that a snowball can be made and does have a chance; in hell.

Shalom

In Miami Beach, a Hasidic man takes a rest on a park bench.

Click here to read more about common questions (and misunderstandings) about Hasidic garb, customs, mannerisms, roles of men and women, etc.

The Benefits Of Dating A White Boy

Since it's still winter, I see no need to shave my legs.

We've been in Florida for the last week and if you've been watching the news (which I know you have, since everyone is wondering when the next ice storm is gonna hit) you might just know that down here, it's been hovering slightly above eighty degrees.

Despite the warmth, I still see no need to shave my legs, especially since I'm wearing capri pants and not shorts.

Yesterday, as I was sliding out of the truck, my capri pant leg scrunched up a few inches, baring the unshaven leg. Eddie was standing there watching me climb out, so I sarcastically said, "So, are you lovin' my hairy legs, or what?"

He said with a smile, "It's so mediterranean."

Boy, these white bread Southern boys just fall for anything exotic, don't they?

South Beach Blue

The Perfect Neapolitan Slice

Eddie's lunch at Fratelli La Bufala in Miami's South Beach. The waiter sounded like he was shipped in directly from Napoli and the sauce was like my grandmother used to make.

Squisito!

Double Team

It's official! We're a bona fide team!

I passed all my driving tests last week and we took our first team load the day after we were done.

Now Eddie can actually get some sleep; while I drive, that is.

God bless his trusting soul.

A Little Taste Of Miami Beach

Open 24 Hours

Seated on the bench in front you can see Harold, the 73 year old Jamaican man I met in the laundromat at midnight.

Isn't this a great idea?

The twenty-four hour laundromat, not the seventy-three year old Jamaican.

Ft. Lauderdale Storm

Miami International

Eddie McSteamy Friday

Eddie's new haircut and trimmed beard. I suggested the different beard style for him and I'm thinkin' he slightly resembles Eric Dane from Grey's Anatomy.

He's definitely MY McSteamy!