I am bored spitless and about to pass out from inactivity. Finished my book, dammit. Nothing is worse than finishing the book hours before you are finished waiting. Wonder if the gift shop has any books that I could stomach?
And Mr. Couth the Caveman is grating on my last. fricken'. nerve.
Up until now I have been highly entertained by Mr. Couth the Caveman. He's loud. He's proud. And he's an idiot. His father is in ICU for some as-yet undiagnosed disease/infection. Mr. CtC and 12 to 57 of his immediate family members are here around the clock, taking turns infecting the ICU with red-necked germs. Right at the moment, there is a rousing roundtable discourse on the subject of who the hell thought it was a good idea to bring Daddy's glasses. There is the "it's good to be prepared/he might need them" camp versus the "what the hell is he gonna be reading/he ain't even conscious" camp.
Mr. CtC was wearing a faded read t-shirt emblazoned with a cartoon caveman when I saw him yesterday. It was highly fitting, I thought. While we, and several members of my parent's church, were here waiting on the surgery yesterday morning, a debate raged over what could be the cause of the patriarch's mysterious illness.
Jane, a nice, quiet, church lady who shares my love of one-liners and eavesdropping, and I were both almost injured by this debate. It seems we were both eavesdropping when someone mentioned something akin to Oedipus. Our eyes locked over the table and we tried not to gape open-mouthed at their group. See, Mr. CtC is one of those people who has had or knows all about any disease known to man or beast. I thought I would pass out from suppressed mirth when he said:
"Oedipus syndrome! Oh yeah, I had that once!"
I am not making this up, people. I swear to God his next statement was:
"It was such a violent case, the doctor's couldn't do a thing with me. Hell, I thought I'd never get over that. That Oedipus syndrome is some kind of bad, let me tell ya whut!"
I thought I was gonna hurt myself bad, trying not to roll on the floor. Jane seemed to be similarly affected.
This morning when we arrived, Mr. CtC was here again, sporting another faded red t-shirt, sans caveman. I side stepped him, no small feat requiring more walking than you might think, as I headed for the stairwell. I smiled as I went past. He needed no more encouragement and started speaking.
"Tired of waiting on these elevators are ya? Me too. They're too damn slow. They got six of 'em and only twos of 'em are workin', I tell ya whut." He was now following me down the stairwell. I was saved from replying by the ringing of his cell phone. He said:
(You know this isn't going to be good. Why are you still reading?)
(Look away, I tell ya! Look away!)
"Howdy! Yeah, he's doin' a little better this mornin'. He ain't ate nuthin' but he still managed to drop a deuce on 'em!"
Yup. How long did it take YOU to figure out what he meant by that?
This is why I'm in the waiting room. Thanks for all your prayers.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Friday Cemetery Blogging
I went on a blogger blind date last Saturday! My first one ever! Dogblogger came to Big Flat City to teach a couple of workshops at a big church there. I drove down from Fake Cow County and we got to meet for lunch.
I picked her up at the big ol' church, where I got to engage in a few minutes of my favorite spectator sport - people watching. Then we went down the street to 2 Story Restaurant and ate healthy, life-sustaining food. We ordered based only on fulfilling our calculated nutritional needs, taking no heed of taste or desirability. Yeah. Cause that's the kind of people we are.
*koff, koff*
Ahem.
Dogblogger is gregarious and hugely entertaining. I learned about her dogchildren and their sordid pasts -they've come a long way! And then she told me about her church and the band she performs with. They play real music - no two-chord choruses for them! I also learned that she works with an interesting group of people, which is always a good thing.
When we finished eating, we had about an hour before Dogblogger had to catch her plane back home. Big Flat City doesn't have a lot to offer in the way of mid-day scenery. So we did the only logical thing.
We went to the cemetery.
She was a really good sport about it. On the way back to the airport, we stopped off in the parking lot of a really seedy motel on the sad side of town and watched a dvd of a short film that the Alpha was in. He was a zombie! It was hilarious and I am deeply jealous of his Zombie experience.
We didn't have a lot of time, but it was certainly worth it. If you ever get the chance to hang out with Dogblogger, go for it!
I picked her up at the big ol' church, where I got to engage in a few minutes of my favorite spectator sport - people watching. Then we went down the street to 2 Story Restaurant and ate healthy, life-sustaining food. We ordered based only on fulfilling our calculated nutritional needs, taking no heed of taste or desirability. Yeah. Cause that's the kind of people we are.
*koff, koff*
Ahem.
Dogblogger is gregarious and hugely entertaining. I learned about her dogchildren and their sordid pasts -they've come a long way! And then she told me about her church and the band she performs with. They play real music - no two-chord choruses for them! I also learned that she works with an interesting group of people, which is always a good thing.
When we finished eating, we had about an hour before Dogblogger had to catch her plane back home. Big Flat City doesn't have a lot to offer in the way of mid-day scenery. So we did the only logical thing.
We went to the cemetery.
She was a really good sport about it. On the way back to the airport, we stopped off in the parking lot of a really seedy motel on the sad side of town and watched a dvd of a short film that the Alpha was in. He was a zombie! It was hilarious and I am deeply jealous of his Zombie experience.
We didn't have a lot of time, but it was certainly worth it. If you ever get the chance to hang out with Dogblogger, go for it!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Interview Questions from Little David
1. Let's say that you have 24 hours to absolutely do whatever you want: family and friends, co-workers and telephone solicitors have all agreed to leave you alone for the day. What are some of the activities you would do? Yum! This is cool. I can tell you for starters I would spend the entire day in silence. (Yeah, I know, it’s hard to believe.)
Before I got married I used to love to travel on my own. My idea of a perfect trip was a week spent speaking to no one other than waitresses. So, on this day, I would do some of the things I used to do on my own. I’d drive to Caprock Canyon, pack a little bag with my camera, some water, maybe pretzels and a sketch book or maybe a journal. Then I would take my shoes off and hike barefoot down the mostly dry stream bed. There is just enough of a trickle of water to make the sand softer so it doesn’t hurt too much to hike barefoot.
When it gets too hot for that to be fun, I’d pack up and drive to a hole in the wall Mexican restaurant somewhere and order enchiladas. I’d drink a lot of cold iced tea and eat tons of chips and hot sauce, while kicked back with my feet on the seat and a good book to keep me company. Finally I would end the day seated in the middle of a darkened theater, enjoying a great movie, which brings me to question number two…
Of course, I enjoy spending time doing these things with Jackson and Katie. But one of the best things about Jackson is that he lets me be free to be alone. He doesn’t seem to mind if I viciously desert him at times. I think that’s really cool.
2. Sometimes after leaving a movie you are still "in the movie" for a while. What is the most memorable such instance? If the movie has faded by the time I make it back to the truck, it’s not much of a movie, in my opinion. I am terribly willing to suspend my disbelief – it doesn’t take much. Movies have always been a huge escape for me. I enjoy watching them at home, but nothing compares to the theater experience. Nothing even comes close. I want the total sensory deprivation that locks your attention into the larger than life story. I want big adventure, thrilling suspense, and ingenious characterization.
But sometimes I get hooked into really crappy movies, too. There is something – maybe a cool character or even just an idea - in some stories that really captures my imagination. Case in point: have any of you seen Condorman? I freakin’ OWN Condorman. I bet not one of you reading this blog right now can say that. If so, please comment, because we so need to be friends.
Have you seen Don Juan DeMarco? I’m not in that sort of Oedipal meltdown or anything, but I really identify with the way that character makes a simple choice to alter his reality. We all do that – believing our own bullshit. And if you’re going to do it, why not do it big? Don’t mess with the small stuff. Have you read the subtitle of this blog? I was thinking of that character when I put that there.
3. Your blog persona of SpookyRach gleefully incorporates dark and weird elements. To what extent do you think this is a reaction to being a pastor's daughter? About 100%. I had a morbid childhood, in some ways – lots of death. That accounted for part of it, perhaps. On top of that, small town churches have some very ingrained, preconceived notions of who the preacher and his family should be. (“His” because y’all know that female preachers are nothin’ but whores of the antichrist, right?) An attorney I know, who is also a Baptist preacher’s daughter once told me, “Hell, I rebelled by getting drunk and having sex. You just got weird!”
Couldn’t have said it better myself.
4. When do you think that you felt most failed by the church? I have really low expectations for the church, so I can’t really think of anytime I have ever felt like it’s failed to meet them. At least not as an adult. (I have many, many posts to write about the special loathing I have for youth groups, but that is for another time.)
There are plenty of times where I have discounted the church and the good it can do. I’ve always believed that you get out of something what you put into it. I often don’t put a lot into church. You probably know that it is all I can do to drag myself out of the house on Sunday mornings. I never want to go. But once I get there, I never regret it.
With our weekly trips to Big Flat City to visit Jackson’s ailing mom, we’ve stopped attending the Sunday morning service, and have used that time for other things. But I still get a lot out of our Sunday School class. Jackson and I always joke that your teaching has saved us from “the bonds of Godless Catholicism” because the class meets at the same time as mass over at St. Alice, and we had to choose between the two. Also, thanks to Katie, we’ve been attending on Wednesday nights pretty regularly, which is something I haven’t done since high school. I always hate going, but once I get there, I love it. The simple congregational songs – two is plenty – and the short and to the point bible study are really good. I get a lot out of that.
5. Besides the physical exercise, what have been some of the benefits of riding your bike to and from work? I haven’t been able to get the oatmeal eaters to make eye contact. I tried waving, but it didn’t work. I have renewed my acquaintance with a former neighbor whom I pass most mornings while she’s walking her dog. I usually have a quick conversation with one of the bailiffs first thing each morning and last thing each afternoon. He rides his motorcycle to work and he likes to ride past me really slowly and make smart-alecky remarks. I have an unobstructed view – if you don’t count the corn stalks – of the sunrise each morning. As the days are getting shorter, I get both moonset and sunrise. Riding a bike is a slow enough operation that I get to enjoy the full show, virtually uninterrupted. Today I saw this. And, I’m filling up my truck with gas only once every couple of weeks, now!
Those are my answers and here are the rules if you want to play too:
1. If you are interested in being interviewed, leave me a comment saying “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by posting five questions for you. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post containing your answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
Before I got married I used to love to travel on my own. My idea of a perfect trip was a week spent speaking to no one other than waitresses. So, on this day, I would do some of the things I used to do on my own. I’d drive to Caprock Canyon, pack a little bag with my camera, some water, maybe pretzels and a sketch book or maybe a journal. Then I would take my shoes off and hike barefoot down the mostly dry stream bed. There is just enough of a trickle of water to make the sand softer so it doesn’t hurt too much to hike barefoot.
When it gets too hot for that to be fun, I’d pack up and drive to a hole in the wall Mexican restaurant somewhere and order enchiladas. I’d drink a lot of cold iced tea and eat tons of chips and hot sauce, while kicked back with my feet on the seat and a good book to keep me company. Finally I would end the day seated in the middle of a darkened theater, enjoying a great movie, which brings me to question number two…
Of course, I enjoy spending time doing these things with Jackson and Katie. But one of the best things about Jackson is that he lets me be free to be alone. He doesn’t seem to mind if I viciously desert him at times. I think that’s really cool.
2. Sometimes after leaving a movie you are still "in the movie" for a while. What is the most memorable such instance? If the movie has faded by the time I make it back to the truck, it’s not much of a movie, in my opinion. I am terribly willing to suspend my disbelief – it doesn’t take much. Movies have always been a huge escape for me. I enjoy watching them at home, but nothing compares to the theater experience. Nothing even comes close. I want the total sensory deprivation that locks your attention into the larger than life story. I want big adventure, thrilling suspense, and ingenious characterization.
But sometimes I get hooked into really crappy movies, too. There is something – maybe a cool character or even just an idea - in some stories that really captures my imagination. Case in point: have any of you seen Condorman? I freakin’ OWN Condorman. I bet not one of you reading this blog right now can say that. If so, please comment, because we so need to be friends.
Have you seen Don Juan DeMarco? I’m not in that sort of Oedipal meltdown or anything, but I really identify with the way that character makes a simple choice to alter his reality. We all do that – believing our own bullshit. And if you’re going to do it, why not do it big? Don’t mess with the small stuff. Have you read the subtitle of this blog? I was thinking of that character when I put that there.
3. Your blog persona of SpookyRach gleefully incorporates dark and weird elements. To what extent do you think this is a reaction to being a pastor's daughter? About 100%. I had a morbid childhood, in some ways – lots of death. That accounted for part of it, perhaps. On top of that, small town churches have some very ingrained, preconceived notions of who the preacher and his family should be. (“His” because y’all know that female preachers are nothin’ but whores of the antichrist, right?) An attorney I know, who is also a Baptist preacher’s daughter once told me, “Hell, I rebelled by getting drunk and having sex. You just got weird!”
Couldn’t have said it better myself.
4. When do you think that you felt most failed by the church? I have really low expectations for the church, so I can’t really think of anytime I have ever felt like it’s failed to meet them. At least not as an adult. (I have many, many posts to write about the special loathing I have for youth groups, but that is for another time.)
There are plenty of times where I have discounted the church and the good it can do. I’ve always believed that you get out of something what you put into it. I often don’t put a lot into church. You probably know that it is all I can do to drag myself out of the house on Sunday mornings. I never want to go. But once I get there, I never regret it.
With our weekly trips to Big Flat City to visit Jackson’s ailing mom, we’ve stopped attending the Sunday morning service, and have used that time for other things. But I still get a lot out of our Sunday School class. Jackson and I always joke that your teaching has saved us from “the bonds of Godless Catholicism” because the class meets at the same time as mass over at St. Alice, and we had to choose between the two. Also, thanks to Katie, we’ve been attending on Wednesday nights pretty regularly, which is something I haven’t done since high school. I always hate going, but once I get there, I love it. The simple congregational songs – two is plenty – and the short and to the point bible study are really good. I get a lot out of that.
5. Besides the physical exercise, what have been some of the benefits of riding your bike to and from work? I haven’t been able to get the oatmeal eaters to make eye contact. I tried waving, but it didn’t work. I have renewed my acquaintance with a former neighbor whom I pass most mornings while she’s walking her dog. I usually have a quick conversation with one of the bailiffs first thing each morning and last thing each afternoon. He rides his motorcycle to work and he likes to ride past me really slowly and make smart-alecky remarks. I have an unobstructed view – if you don’t count the corn stalks – of the sunrise each morning. As the days are getting shorter, I get both moonset and sunrise. Riding a bike is a slow enough operation that I get to enjoy the full show, virtually uninterrupted. Today I saw this. And, I’m filling up my truck with gas only once every couple of weeks, now!
Those are my answers and here are the rules if you want to play too:
1. If you are interested in being interviewed, leave me a comment saying “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by posting five questions for you. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post containing your answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
Random Monday Stuff
The wind was blowing too hard this afternoon, so I called for a pick-up. I tried riding my bike, but I had trouble riding DOWN the hill against the wind, so I knew UP the hill was a waste of effort. I assumed Jackson would pick up Katie first, since she was at day camp on his side of town, then pick me up on the way home. He picked me up first. He said he knew Katie was safe and sound where she was and I was just sitting on a curb on the side of the road. He thought he better get me first. Wonder what kind of trouble he thought I was going to get into, just sitting on the curb?
After we loaded my bike, we went back across town to get Katie at the YMCA. I went in to collect her. She saw me at the door and her face went a little pale. She ran up and asked "Am I going to have to ride on your bike?" I told her yes, but not to worry about it. I'd let her do the pedaling.
We hung out at the cemetery in Earth,Tx on Saturday. They have some interesting dead people.
I signed up for art lessons last week. Painting class will start the week after Labor Day. I'm way all excited.
Speaking of Labor Day, we're going camping that weekend. We told Katie she could bring a friend. She immediately called her little softball buddy. Softball buddy is a likable kid, but she's, well, a kid. I don't like kids. SB is a year younger than Katie and she's a short, sparky little thing. She is friendly to a fault. She's never met a stranger and for some reason she's decided she loves us. She's a good kid. But she's a kid - loud, energetic, demanding constant interaction. Her parents are nice, hard working people. And I discovered, at the end of season pizza party, that SB's grandmother and I had a long-standing professional relationship. (Welfare fraud. Mostly unintentional. Heh.) I completely dread spending two days in the confines of a state park with a kid. But I'm gonna suck it up. I'm working on the whole 'what would be the most Christian thing to do in this situation?' thing. I'm working on it. (Two nights, three days. I doubt the kid has ever been anywhere without a TV. Or a playstation. Sigh...)
Katie is a kid, too. But she's an only child, used to entertaining herself. I've always had a problem with kids in general, especially those that run in packs. Mindy once said I like kids who were raised by adults - sort of like being raised by wolves. That's pretty close to accurate. I'm not really a Scrooge about it, not really, but kids in packs sort of unnerve me. They're so...frenetic!
"Suck it up" is my new mantra.
I'm currently engaged in a battle of wills with a housefly. I would be winning, but Jackson won't let me smack his head with the flyswatter.
After we loaded my bike, we went back across town to get Katie at the YMCA. I went in to collect her. She saw me at the door and her face went a little pale. She ran up and asked "Am I going to have to ride on your bike?" I told her yes, but not to worry about it. I'd let her do the pedaling.
We hung out at the cemetery in Earth,Tx on Saturday. They have some interesting dead people.
I signed up for art lessons last week. Painting class will start the week after Labor Day. I'm way all excited.
Speaking of Labor Day, we're going camping that weekend. We told Katie she could bring a friend. She immediately called her little softball buddy. Softball buddy is a likable kid, but she's, well, a kid. I don't like kids. SB is a year younger than Katie and she's a short, sparky little thing. She is friendly to a fault. She's never met a stranger and for some reason she's decided she loves us. She's a good kid. But she's a kid - loud, energetic, demanding constant interaction. Her parents are nice, hard working people. And I discovered, at the end of season pizza party, that SB's grandmother and I had a long-standing professional relationship. (Welfare fraud. Mostly unintentional. Heh.) I completely dread spending two days in the confines of a state park with a kid. But I'm gonna suck it up. I'm working on the whole 'what would be the most Christian thing to do in this situation?' thing. I'm working on it. (Two nights, three days. I doubt the kid has ever been anywhere without a TV. Or a playstation. Sigh...)
Katie is a kid, too. But she's an only child, used to entertaining herself. I've always had a problem with kids in general, especially those that run in packs. Mindy once said I like kids who were raised by adults - sort of like being raised by wolves. That's pretty close to accurate. I'm not really a Scrooge about it, not really, but kids in packs sort of unnerve me. They're so...frenetic!
"Suck it up" is my new mantra.
I'm currently engaged in a battle of wills with a housefly. I would be winning, but Jackson won't let me smack his head with the flyswatter.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Check it out!
Look what they planted in the field just down the road from my house! It was a corn maze last year.
Corn makes me sneeze. A lot.
Didn't have time to hunt up a cemetery picture. Hope this will do instead!
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Friday Cemetery Blogging
We went to the Wheel of Misfortune Cemetery. While we were there I bought a:
This picture is just for grins. Katie and Auntie "M" are searching the shore line for signs of intellient life. Luna is keeping a sharp eye out for Nargols.
This picture is just for grins. Katie and Auntie "M" are searching the shore line for signs of intellient life. Luna is keeping a sharp eye out for Nargols.
Monday, August 06, 2007
'Cause all the cool kids are doing it.
I saw this on little david's blog. I'm freakishly alarmed by how high it is on the feeling end versus the thinking end. It's not necessarily wrong, I just don't like it. I'd much rather be Spock than Oprah. Perhaps I've spent too much time listening to people and trying to decipher what they really mean about what they don't say that I get really tuned in to feelings. Maybe?
Of course, Spock wasn't without feelings, he was just very much in control of them. Maybe I could claim the same?
Maybe not.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
No really. It's the music. I really like the, uh... the music!
A friend in Hungary sent me this video clip. I thought it would be darned selfish of me not to share.
(Oh, and the group is Texas and the song is In Demand.)
Friday, August 03, 2007
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Malicious Blasphemy of the Lowest Order
The 412th sign of the apocalypse occurs this weekend.
Of course you know what that is - the release of the Underdog movie.
Yes, this loathsome bit of celluloid trumpery is being "unleashed" on an otherwise unsuspecting public. If Walt Disney weren't already dead, I would so have his head for this. Why? WHY??
Because there are some things in life that you just shouldn't mess with. Things like the formula for Coke, Jackson's rib recipe, and rattlesnakes, for example. Underdog is one of those things. How did they mess with it, you may ask?
1. Underdog is a cartoon. He is not a live action mutt. He doesn't live in the real world. Get it? He is not a REAL DOG, people! That's just silly.
2. No one is surprised that Underdog can talk. Because it's a cartoon. They are anthropomorphic talking animals. No one is surprised by this.
3. There are no real people in Underdog's world. Just a few troglodytes like Simon Bar Sinister and the like. There are NO irritatingly plucky 12 year old boys. No, not one!
4. Polly Purebread is not some dippy cocker spaniel. Please! That is like casting Jessica Simpson to play Lois Lane. It's just stupid.
5. Underdog is not a dog with a hip attitude. Underdog is anti-hip. He's not smart. He's not resourceful. His clothes don't even fit him right. Hence the name, ya jerks!
6. Underdog is not some sad-ass family pet. Please! He's a mild-mannered shoeshine boy, on the lookout for danger and assorted villainy. He is not supposed to bring you your paper or fetch some poorly thrown stick. He is supposed to remain ever vigilant at his shoe shine stand, ready to do battle against the forces of evil and bad sportsmanship. He fights for truth and justice and the purity of Polly Purebred. Fetch yer own damn slippers, people!
7. And the song? Don't even get me started on what you've done to that song. It's just too embarrassing. I got no problem with covers of the song. The Butthole Surfers did a rather respectable version of it in the late 90's. It was different, but good. Too bad the same can't be said for your lame-o version.
So, even if you are unable to resist the urge to make a total cinematic fool of yourself and peddle a rotten live action version of a cartoon classic, at least watch the cartoon first. Seriously, it only takes like half an hour. Didn't you have the time to spare? Had you done that, you would've realized that Underdog isn't edgy or cool. He's Bob Newhart, not Ben Stiler.
Geeze!
Of course you know what that is - the release of the Underdog movie.
Yes, this loathsome bit of celluloid trumpery is being "unleashed" on an otherwise unsuspecting public. If Walt Disney weren't already dead, I would so have his head for this. Why? WHY??
Because there are some things in life that you just shouldn't mess with. Things like the formula for Coke, Jackson's rib recipe, and rattlesnakes, for example. Underdog is one of those things. How did they mess with it, you may ask?
1. Underdog is a cartoon. He is not a live action mutt. He doesn't live in the real world. Get it? He is not a REAL DOG, people! That's just silly.
2. No one is surprised that Underdog can talk. Because it's a cartoon. They are anthropomorphic talking animals. No one is surprised by this.
3. There are no real people in Underdog's world. Just a few troglodytes like Simon Bar Sinister and the like. There are NO irritatingly plucky 12 year old boys. No, not one!
4. Polly Purebread is not some dippy cocker spaniel. Please! That is like casting Jessica Simpson to play Lois Lane. It's just stupid.
5. Underdog is not a dog with a hip attitude. Underdog is anti-hip. He's not smart. He's not resourceful. His clothes don't even fit him right. Hence the name, ya jerks!
6. Underdog is not some sad-ass family pet. Please! He's a mild-mannered shoeshine boy, on the lookout for danger and assorted villainy. He is not supposed to bring you your paper or fetch some poorly thrown stick. He is supposed to remain ever vigilant at his shoe shine stand, ready to do battle against the forces of evil and bad sportsmanship. He fights for truth and justice and the purity of Polly Purebred. Fetch yer own damn slippers, people!
7. And the song? Don't even get me started on what you've done to that song. It's just too embarrassing. I got no problem with covers of the song. The Butthole Surfers did a rather respectable version of it in the late 90's. It was different, but good. Too bad the same can't be said for your lame-o version.
So, even if you are unable to resist the urge to make a total cinematic fool of yourself and peddle a rotten live action version of a cartoon classic, at least watch the cartoon first. Seriously, it only takes like half an hour. Didn't you have the time to spare? Had you done that, you would've realized that Underdog isn't edgy or cool. He's Bob Newhart, not Ben Stiler.
Geeze!
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Today's Vacation Photos Brought to you By:
Sitting on a log and letting those other losers hike down the other side of the mountain. Why hike up the dang thing twice?
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
Friday Cemetery Blogging
It is way too early in the morning to think of a good caption for this photo. I've always loved the way sunlight looks as the sun slips underneath the thunderstorm clouds on it's way to the horizon. The light and the shadows are equally intense. There is probably some sort of profound metaphor you could make with that, but then again, I'm sure it's been done before.
Have a great Friday! I'm hoping it goes by fast. Vacation starts at 5:01 p.m. (Aw hell, who am I kidding? Like I'm going to get anything else done after the 3:00 p.m. Ice Cream Hour.) ((Which only lasts for 30 minutes...))
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Better Living through Randomosity
* So there I was, sitting at my desk, when I was struck with a wonderful idea for a blog post. "Aha!" I said excitedly. "No need to write that down - I could never forget it."
* Been staring at this blank computer screen now for so long the screen saver came on. I've no clue what that really good idea was. Dammit.
* I have a raging headache. Maybe that's why I can't remember anything. Have I mentioned that the corn field across from my house is now over my head and starting to tassel? Danged ol' allergies.
* We leave on vacation on Saturday. Can't wait! We've rented a house on a mountainside and plan to sit around in the hot tub 24-7 admiring the view. Jonboy and his significant others are coming along. I think Jonboy and Jackson are secretly dating behind my back.
* Jackson refuses to grow his goatee back! He claims it's too grey and he says he looks "pretty" without it. I am incensed.
* We've been looking for a new house cleaner with no luck. Not even a nibble. Thankfully, today Maria called and said she can start cleaning for us again in August. The gods are smiling on us again!
* I just bought a nifty new copy of one of my all-time favorite stories. It's a hardback copy with snazzy endpapers and an attached ribbon bookmark. Makes me happy just to hold it. That is why e-books will never replace the real thing.
* The book is The Scarlet Pimpernel. I love nothing better than old masked avenger stories. Well, except for the Lone Ranger. He was ok, but he was no Green Hornet. The Shadow is probably my all-time favorite.
* I just had to venture into one of the back bedrooms to let Katie's friend Em know that her mom wanted her home. There are now two little girls back there, rolling on the floor wailing and moaning pathetically. They are deeply distraught because this is evidently the third evening in a row that I have interrupted their Barbie drama at the most climactic moment possible.
They disturb me. A lot.
* I would buy Katie some GI Joe's and a few Transformers, but I think it would be an exercise in futility. Transformers - Prom Dates in Disguise!
* Been staring at this blank computer screen now for so long the screen saver came on. I've no clue what that really good idea was. Dammit.
* I have a raging headache. Maybe that's why I can't remember anything. Have I mentioned that the corn field across from my house is now over my head and starting to tassel? Danged ol' allergies.
* We leave on vacation on Saturday. Can't wait! We've rented a house on a mountainside and plan to sit around in the hot tub 24-7 admiring the view. Jonboy and his significant others are coming along. I think Jonboy and Jackson are secretly dating behind my back.
* Jackson refuses to grow his goatee back! He claims it's too grey and he says he looks "pretty" without it. I am incensed.
* We've been looking for a new house cleaner with no luck. Not even a nibble. Thankfully, today Maria called and said she can start cleaning for us again in August. The gods are smiling on us again!
* I just bought a nifty new copy of one of my all-time favorite stories. It's a hardback copy with snazzy endpapers and an attached ribbon bookmark. Makes me happy just to hold it. That is why e-books will never replace the real thing.
* The book is The Scarlet Pimpernel. I love nothing better than old masked avenger stories. Well, except for the Lone Ranger. He was ok, but he was no Green Hornet. The Shadow is probably my all-time favorite.
* I just had to venture into one of the back bedrooms to let Katie's friend Em know that her mom wanted her home. There are now two little girls back there, rolling on the floor wailing and moaning pathetically. They are deeply distraught because this is evidently the third evening in a row that I have interrupted their Barbie drama at the most climactic moment possible.
They disturb me. A lot.
* I would buy Katie some GI Joe's and a few Transformers, but I think it would be an exercise in futility. Transformers - Prom Dates in Disguise!
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Friday Cemetery Blogging
A foggy morning in the cemetery.
I took this photo in January, on my way to work one morning.
What? Don't you grab your camera and head for the cemetery anytime you're graced with a foggy morning? No?
It's one of life's most peaceful pleasures.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Think before you dial.
I had an appointment with one of my guys yesterday and he got me to thinking. Thinking about another guy I used to supervise on probation.
My name, address and phone number used to be in the phone book. Long ago and far away, it was department policy that we be accessible like that, in case of an emergency. It's been about eight years since that policy was abolished. I didn't have a problem with it at the time, but looking back on it, I realize what a stupid policy it was.
I lived alone for all the years that the policy had been enforced and I had my fair share of late night phone calls from suicidal senior citizens, pissed off wives, and the occasional soon-to-be-father wondering if he could break his curfew to drive his wife to the hospital. But I seldom ever had an obscene phone call.
The first such call I ever got was - I think - totally random. Somebody was just dialing numbers and hoping to get lucky. The call came at seven o'clock in the morning, which I thought was a rather odd time for that sort of activity. The caller launched into his prepared remarks. When he paused for breath, I said, "Oh come on, now. Surely you can do better than that. " He was quiet for a couple of beats, then hung up the phone.
There was only one obscene call that I ever got from one of my probationers. This one was at two o'clock on a Sunday morning. Now, at 7:00 a.m., following a good night's sleep, I am awake and in control of enough of my faculties to handle unsolicited phone sex. Not so at 2:00 a.m.
Wakened from a deep sleep in the middle of the night makes me just stupid. Seriously so. Late night phone calls from friends and potential friends have occasionally been a source of embarrassment due to the fact that I have no idea what the hell I'm saying. I couldn't tell you my name and get it right.
So, when I answered the phone, I had no idea what was going on. I guess I wasn't very coherent because the guy asked twice to speak to Rachel. I managed to convince both of us that was me. He was real polite about it.
Once assured he had the right person, he launched into a laundry list of proposed future activities. I was still wiping slobber off my chin and wondering if I really was this Rachel person. He went on for several minutes it seemed, while I tried to kick start my brain.
The light finally turned on in my head and I recognized his voice.
"Joe! Have you been drinking?"
He must have been really drunk, because he said, "Uh....yes ma'am."
I told you he was real polite. I couldn't really think of any thing productive to contribute to the conversation at that point, so I said: "Well, cut it out! And be in my office at 8:00 a.m. on Monday!"
He sighed and said ok before I hung up the phone.
When Monday morning rolled around, I was laughing about this story with my co-workers. It was a few minutes before eight o'clock and the boss had arrived just in time to hear the last of my story. She said something along the lines of "He did WHAT?!"
Diane was the boss.
When I was in college, I intended to pursue a career in federal law enforcement. However, I discovered the feds didn't have much of a sense of humor, so I thought I might be interested in local law enforcement. I did an internship with the city police department. Promptly upon completion of said internship, I went to the probation department and turned in a job application.
After meeting Diane, I knew this is where I wanted to work.
Diane was tall, tough and smart as hell. She still is, actually, even though she's been retired for years. I want to be her when I grow up. She was an excellent motivator and could convince all of us drink the kool-aid if she'd wanted to. In addition to all that she was a mother to two grown sons.
When she said "He did WHAT?!" she used her mom voice. And it was scary.
Joe arrived, expecting to see me. He met with Diane instead.
And then he went to prison.
I miss Diane.
My name, address and phone number used to be in the phone book. Long ago and far away, it was department policy that we be accessible like that, in case of an emergency. It's been about eight years since that policy was abolished. I didn't have a problem with it at the time, but looking back on it, I realize what a stupid policy it was.
I lived alone for all the years that the policy had been enforced and I had my fair share of late night phone calls from suicidal senior citizens, pissed off wives, and the occasional soon-to-be-father wondering if he could break his curfew to drive his wife to the hospital. But I seldom ever had an obscene phone call.
The first such call I ever got was - I think - totally random. Somebody was just dialing numbers and hoping to get lucky. The call came at seven o'clock in the morning, which I thought was a rather odd time for that sort of activity. The caller launched into his prepared remarks. When he paused for breath, I said, "Oh come on, now. Surely you can do better than that. " He was quiet for a couple of beats, then hung up the phone.
There was only one obscene call that I ever got from one of my probationers. This one was at two o'clock on a Sunday morning. Now, at 7:00 a.m., following a good night's sleep, I am awake and in control of enough of my faculties to handle unsolicited phone sex. Not so at 2:00 a.m.
Wakened from a deep sleep in the middle of the night makes me just stupid. Seriously so. Late night phone calls from friends and potential friends have occasionally been a source of embarrassment due to the fact that I have no idea what the hell I'm saying. I couldn't tell you my name and get it right.
So, when I answered the phone, I had no idea what was going on. I guess I wasn't very coherent because the guy asked twice to speak to Rachel. I managed to convince both of us that was me. He was real polite about it.
Once assured he had the right person, he launched into a laundry list of proposed future activities. I was still wiping slobber off my chin and wondering if I really was this Rachel person. He went on for several minutes it seemed, while I tried to kick start my brain.
The light finally turned on in my head and I recognized his voice.
"Joe! Have you been drinking?"
He must have been really drunk, because he said, "Uh....yes ma'am."
I told you he was real polite. I couldn't really think of any thing productive to contribute to the conversation at that point, so I said: "Well, cut it out! And be in my office at 8:00 a.m. on Monday!"
He sighed and said ok before I hung up the phone.
When Monday morning rolled around, I was laughing about this story with my co-workers. It was a few minutes before eight o'clock and the boss had arrived just in time to hear the last of my story. She said something along the lines of "He did WHAT?!"
Diane was the boss.
When I was in college, I intended to pursue a career in federal law enforcement. However, I discovered the feds didn't have much of a sense of humor, so I thought I might be interested in local law enforcement. I did an internship with the city police department. Promptly upon completion of said internship, I went to the probation department and turned in a job application.
After meeting Diane, I knew this is where I wanted to work.
Diane was tall, tough and smart as hell. She still is, actually, even though she's been retired for years. I want to be her when I grow up. She was an excellent motivator and could convince all of us drink the kool-aid if she'd wanted to. In addition to all that she was a mother to two grown sons.
When she said "He did WHAT?!" she used her mom voice. And it was scary.
Joe arrived, expecting to see me. He met with Diane instead.
And then he went to prison.
I miss Diane.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Open Letter to My Mom
Re: Harry Potter Moive
Dear Mom,
You have totally got to go see the new Harry Potter movie. It was good, I know you're a fan, so you will enjoy it based on that alone. However, even if you weren't a Potterite, you would still need to see it because it stars your granddaughter.
Yep. My niece, your grandkid, Jonboy's progeny plays Luna Lovejoy.
It is uncanny. She looks exactly like J-Boy Jr. They have the same face, the same body, the same hair, the same floaty attitude and approach to reality. Give her a drawl and a bit of a lisp and there would be no difference. Wanna see who J-Boy Jr. will be in a few years? Check out Evanna Lynch.
Dear Mom,
You have totally got to go see the new Harry Potter movie. It was good, I know you're a fan, so you will enjoy it based on that alone. However, even if you weren't a Potterite, you would still need to see it because it stars your granddaughter.
Yep. My niece, your grandkid, Jonboy's progeny plays Luna Lovejoy.
It is uncanny. She looks exactly like J-Boy Jr. They have the same face, the same body, the same hair, the same floaty attitude and approach to reality. Give her a drawl and a bit of a lisp and there would be no difference. Wanna see who J-Boy Jr. will be in a few years? Check out Evanna Lynch.
Bizarre, ain't it?
Love,
Spookyrach
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Friday Cemetery Blogging
Howdy. These are interview questions that Patti sent me. If you would like some questions of your own to answer, leave a note in the comments or send me an email.
1. How is your bike riding going? So far, so good. I'm still doing it. I haven't lost any weight, but my cholesterol is down and my checkbook is fatter. I'm averaging 3-4 days a week. Haven't done the full five days yet. I love riding to work - it's normally cool and breezy. Riding home is hellacious. Do you remember the little old oatmeal eaters? I've noticed the last couple of weeks that they are watching me as much as I am watching them. Next week I may wave.
2. I know you are a fan of Art Buchwald. What do you find most inspiring about him? I learned a whole lot from reading Art Buchwald, starting as a 10 year old kid. He taught me all I know about mid-20th century political history. Seriously. I never had a class in high school or college that covered that particular period. Art Buchwald taught me that politics are damn funny. Politics are still my favorite spectator sport, thanks to Art's early influence. Now that local politics have a direct and lasting impact on my daily life and continued employment, I have tempered my love of their hilarity a bit. When the election on Tuesday decides who you'll be working for on Wednesday, it can sometimes be a bit of a nail-biter. But I still love it. I blame Buchwald for that. (And I learned lots of things about lots and lots of sex scandals that I bet my mom and dad wouldn't have approved of. It took me a really long time to figure out what the heck Chappaquiddick was.)
3. Describe your self, lifestyle and circumstances in High School: Interesting timing on this question. Jackson has always said that I remind him of Julia Styles in the movie 10 Things I Hate About You. A couple of weeks ago, a couple of other people told me the same thing. I decided I would finally watch the movie. I loved it! I mentioned it to my sister-in-law and she immediately said - you guessed it - that I remind her of Julia Styles in that movie. Much as I would like to claim that was me in high school, it's not. I was actually kind of quiet. I had a lot of fun, but I enjoyed staying at home to read a good book on Saturday night way more than hanging out with all the other kids on the town square, watching the traffic light change colors. My frame of reference was totally different from that of my peers, and that was fine with me. I was the preacher's kid and I wasn't even particularly rebellious. When I wasn't in school, I was doing manual labor at the City Grocery and Deli. I was a band geek, and, OF COURSE, I was the yearbook editor. (I contend that most bloggers were on the yearbook staff at some point during high school.) That's me in the hat, c. 1989, back row, second from left:
I wore hats a lot. (The girl in the wheelchair? She's the same one from this story.)
4. Let's say you could go to any theatrical production in the world. Money is no object. Where would you go? I would go to the theatre in London, for sure! I don't know what I would see...Spamalot, maybe? (Help me! I'm bein' repressed!) I love going to plays, but I haven't been to any big time shows, other than the Phantom of the Opera (which I reeeeally enjoyed!) I love to go watch kids in high school one act play competitions or to check out our local university's theatre department. Every great once in a while we go to a production in Big Flat City and a little more regularly we wander down off the Caprock to see whatever is happening at the Cereal City theatre.
5. What is the most uncomfortable pair of shoes you own? When do you wear them? These are my favorite least comfortable shoes. I had to search the far back reaches of my closet to find them because I have not found an occasion that was worth it for me to wear them in the last couple of years. I've wanted a pair of Dr. Scholl's Exercise Sandals since about 1979. I thought they were so cool on my older cousins and their friends. They finally came back into style when I was college. I hopped right out and bought me a pair. I love the way the wood feels smooth and cool on my feet. Unfortunately, these are half-assed shoes. I tend to kick off any shoe without at least a strap across the back when I walk. It's a pain in the rear with most shoes. It's a pain in the foot with these shoes. Every freakin' time I wear them, I manage to do that and bring my heel or arch down on the sharp wooden edge of these suckers. Damn, it hurts. Almost enough to bring tears. They should change the name to Dr. Sheol's Exercise Sandals.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Monday, July 09, 2007
Pusillanimous Asterisks Masquerading As Bloodthirsty Bullets
* The family reunion went well, although it was almost terminally boring. I thought about trying some of Presby Gal’s suggestions, but I don’t think anyone would have noticed.
* The very best part of the reunion was the fact that Cousin Ralph, the guy who hit on me last time, decided that Jackson would be his new best friend this time. He’s really a nice guy, but one of those people that we southerners like to describe, with a pat on the knee, as “a bit slow”.
Jackson and Katie Listen to "Cousin Ralph".* Jackson tried to escape his new best friend, but to no avail. He excused himself to go to the restroom at one point as a means of terminating the conversation. Cousin Ralph jumped up and followed, promising to show Jackson the way to the facilities. Upon entry, Jackson discovered there was only a single facility. He gallantly offered to step outside and let Ralph use it first. Ralph offered to share. Jackson ran away. Far away.
* We survived camping. It rained, but it was really nice, perfect rain. It wasn’t even very hot. I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
* We had several wildlife encounters while camping. Wildlife of the West Texas variety.
Right after breakfast. What do you think he ate? Rabbit? Rat?* Our cleaning lady got a full-time job. She’s been cleaning my house for nigh onto thirteen years. There is much weeping and gnashing of teeth at the Spooky R Ranch. Katie is scrubbing toilets even as we speak.
* Three more weeks until more vacation! Hot tub on the mountain-side variety.
* Riding my bike home at 8:30 in the evening, in a very light rain - good. Real good. The wind and the persistent lightening that showed up halfway home? Not so good. If it had gotten any worse, I would've stopped at Little David's house and scrawled "Help!" on his driveway with chalk.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Merciless Bloodthirsty Bullets of Monday
* I ate breakfast, lunch and dinner in my office today. That’s bad.
* Riding my bike home at 9:00 p.m. is infinitely more pleasant than riding it home at 5:00 p.m. That’s good.
* We are going to my family reunion on Saturday. I haven’t been since the year before I got married. I am wretchedly unfamiliar with my own family. One of the last times I went, one of my fellow attendees tried to hit on me. Technically I think it would have been legal for us to date. But I wish I had a t-shirt that says “I Don’t Date Within My Double Helix”. Or something like that.
* Tuesday is the last day I have to go to work this week. Katie is spending the week with her grandmother in Big Flat City. Jackson and I are hoping to go camping. I can hardly wait!
* The gods are conspiring against us and throwing all manner of Herculean obstacles in the path of this camping trip. Can I go on record now as saying that if we do get to go, I fully expect to be struck by lightening then swept away in a roiling flash flood or a raging tornado? Anyone know if there is a patron saint of camping? Is there a Saint Coleman?
* I finally gave in and went back to the doctor to have my cholesterol tested. They wouldn’t give me any refills unless I agreed to go do some lab work. The nurse called me with the results last week. Cholesterol: 177 I was way impressed about that. Then she got all snippy and said my triglycerides were out of whack at 168. (Gotta eat fewer starches, dammit.) THEN she said my thyroid is way, way high, which totally explains why I have lost weight, had a ton of energy and lowered my cholesterol. Once again, the heartless bastards intend to cure me of this problem and they cut my thyroid medicine in half. Crimony! What should have been a lovely, congratulatory phone call turned out to be a complete downer. I really wanna kick that lady’s butt.
* ‘Course that could be the thyroid talking.
* Riding my bike home at 9:00 p.m. is infinitely more pleasant than riding it home at 5:00 p.m. That’s good.
* We are going to my family reunion on Saturday. I haven’t been since the year before I got married. I am wretchedly unfamiliar with my own family. One of the last times I went, one of my fellow attendees tried to hit on me. Technically I think it would have been legal for us to date. But I wish I had a t-shirt that says “I Don’t Date Within My Double Helix”. Or something like that.
* Tuesday is the last day I have to go to work this week. Katie is spending the week with her grandmother in Big Flat City. Jackson and I are hoping to go camping. I can hardly wait!
* The gods are conspiring against us and throwing all manner of Herculean obstacles in the path of this camping trip. Can I go on record now as saying that if we do get to go, I fully expect to be struck by lightening then swept away in a roiling flash flood or a raging tornado? Anyone know if there is a patron saint of camping? Is there a Saint Coleman?
* I finally gave in and went back to the doctor to have my cholesterol tested. They wouldn’t give me any refills unless I agreed to go do some lab work. The nurse called me with the results last week. Cholesterol: 177 I was way impressed about that. Then she got all snippy and said my triglycerides were out of whack at 168. (Gotta eat fewer starches, dammit.) THEN she said my thyroid is way, way high, which totally explains why I have lost weight, had a ton of energy and lowered my cholesterol. Once again, the heartless bastards intend to cure me of this problem and they cut my thyroid medicine in half. Crimony! What should have been a lovely, congratulatory phone call turned out to be a complete downer. I really wanna kick that lady’s butt.
* ‘Course that could be the thyroid talking.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Friday Cemetery Blogging
I thought this was funny when I stumbled on it in a dusty west Texas cemetery. This morning as I am shuddering with relief at having just found my flash drive which contains all my recent cemetery pictures, it doesn't seem so ha-ha hillarious.
Whatever.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Friday Cemetery Blogging
Beauty Tips from Beyond
Where lipstick is concerned, the important thing is not color, but to accept God's final word on where your lips end. - Jerry SeinfeldThursday, June 14, 2007
Eight Random Things and a Cemetery Photo
Jackson and Katie are helping me with this list of 8 Random Things. Thanks to reverendmother for the tag. They have come up with some really random stuff, but after three (or is it 4?) years of doing this, I've covered most of the random stuff. Here's what we got:
1. I'm a redhead. Have I told you that before? I can't remember. And it's natural.
2. I can use power tools. And I have all my original digits. (I think Jackson married me for my drill.)
3. I have read only the first Harry Potter book. I liked it. But I haven't read any of the others. This drives Jackson, a confirmed Harry Potter addict, nuts. I've also never read the DaVinci Code. I did read Dan Brown's Angels and Demons. I liked it. But I never read the DaVinci Code. (Mom said Angels and Demons was better than the DaVinci Code, anyway.)
4. I can't dance. (Jackson and Katie both suggested I note that I can't sing, either. Ingrates!)
5. I am a morning person. In the extreme. However, I am a quiet, leave-me-alone-and-let-me-read-or-write-in-peace morning person.
6. I like to garden, but I am a lazy gardener. Thus, I refuse to plant annuals. Perennials only, please. And I seldom weed.
7. I love and adore roadhouse blues.
8. I have three graduate hours towards a Master's Degree. I really enjoyed the class, but turns out they expect you to work outside of class - do term papers and projects and the like. As if!
So, that's it. Have a great weekend!
1. I'm a redhead. Have I told you that before? I can't remember. And it's natural.
2. I can use power tools. And I have all my original digits. (I think Jackson married me for my drill.)
3. I have read only the first Harry Potter book. I liked it. But I haven't read any of the others. This drives Jackson, a confirmed Harry Potter addict, nuts. I've also never read the DaVinci Code. I did read Dan Brown's Angels and Demons. I liked it. But I never read the DaVinci Code. (Mom said Angels and Demons was better than the DaVinci Code, anyway.)
4. I can't dance. (Jackson and Katie both suggested I note that I can't sing, either. Ingrates!)
5. I am a morning person. In the extreme. However, I am a quiet, leave-me-alone-and-let-me-read-or-write-in-peace morning person.
6. I like to garden, but I am a lazy gardener. Thus, I refuse to plant annuals. Perennials only, please. And I seldom weed.
7. I love and adore roadhouse blues.
8. I have three graduate hours towards a Master's Degree. I really enjoyed the class, but turns out they expect you to work outside of class - do term papers and projects and the like. As if!
So, that's it. Have a great weekend!
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
A'camping We Did Go
You might remember last week that I mentioned that Jackson and I were going camping for our child-free weekend?
You also might remember that I have remarked several times about the vastly unusual amounts of rain we have gotten so far this spring?
Putting two and two together yet?
Jackson really wanted to go fishing, so I agreed to go Redneck Camping. Redneck Camping is what happens at Buffalo Springs Lake, a former sewer subsidised by Big Flat City. (Ok, it wasn't really a sewer. Not officially.) We hadn't been there in several years. With good reason.
It isn't a state park, which means it is a for profit kind of place. It is also an urban playground, which means all the college kids from We Think We're So Much More Important Than We Really Are University come out there to get drunk and dunked. All the kids who had to work out there doing community service for juvenile probation come back to camp there as well, with all 900 of their closest family members. It. is. crowded. I really hate it. But there are actual fish in the lake, or so Jackson claims.
"Trust me! You'll love it!" he said in with his sleazy used car salesman smile.
This time was better, I must admit. They have done extensive work to the lake. (Did you know there is only one naturally occurring lake in this whole dang state? And we have to share that one with Louisiana.) They dug out tons of cattails and weeds. There are new bridges and a nine whole golf course (kind of) on the edge of the lake. There is a fancy shmancy amphitheatre and lots of improvements to the marina.
Jackson assembles his fishing paraphernalia.
The campsites are still way to damn close together and there are too damn many people there, but I was prepared to change my mind and have a good time. We set up the tent and Jackson got his fishing gear together. He wandered off to fish and I sat in the shade with my book and my camera. Just across the road, right next to the lake, what a mini-stage. The Big Flat Firefighters Association had booked it for the day. Bands played all afternoon while they cooked bbq, drank beer and admired each other's impossibly clean motorcycles. The bands were progressively better as the afternoon wore on and I was having a good time.
Then, of course, I had to answer the call of nature. No worries, there was a restroom within easy walking distance. I headed that way and went through to door to find NOTHING but a huge pile of sledge-hammered porcelain in the middle of the floor. I went back outside and checked the teeny tiny sign that said "Restrooms Closed for Remodeling". In June. How is that a good idea? Why couldn't they have done this in January? But nooooo. Instead, they have demolished the restrooms (probably with the help of some of those juvenile delinquents!) and put a row of port-a-pottys out front.
I have never used a port-a-potty in my. entire. life. I admit it - I am a restroom snob. There are just some things I will. not. do. I would totally rather go out behind a bush somewhere than in one of those plastic poo pods. In fact, I decide that the bush option would be much more preferable at that point in time, but given that the place is freakin' crawling with people, I couldn't do that either.
In the end, I drove to the Marina and made use of their not very much nicer restroom facilities. When I got back, I tramped over to Jackson's fishing spot and enlightened him as to the irony of the whole situation. I may have used phrases such as "kick your ass" and "never again". I don't remember for sure.
I went back to the shady spot and cracked my book and a new bottle of water. The new band that was playing for the drunken firefighters was really good, so I stopped seething.
He continued to fish. At less than 20 miles an hour.
After about an hour, the band stopped in mid-verse. They were playing "Last Dance With Mary Jane" which is one of my all time favorite Tom Petty songs. The lead singer made the following announcement: "Uh, y'all...they just told us there is a big ass storm headed right this way. There's lots of lighting and hail and 70 mile an hour winds. If you're camping out here, you better batten down the hatches. Can anybody come up here and help us pack up this sound equipment? Quick!?"
I looked towards the south and sure enough, heavy dark clouds were rolling in fast. Crap. I met up with Jackson and we proceeded to pack everything away inside the truck or the tent. All the while we debated whether or not to stick it out or go ahead and leave. The rain had started, so we decided it was too late to leave, and we huddled in the tent.
It would have been fun.
Except that no tent, unless maybe it's army surplus, is made to withstand 70 mile an hour winds. We ended up packing our crap in the fastest campsite tear-down on record, in the driving, pouring rain and getting the hell out. We were soaked. Through and through.
We stopped at the marina to check out the weather on their TV. Turns out the storm we were sitting through was headed east and there was an even worse storm about to whack Fake Cow County. We sat around for a while until our storm passed. Then we headed north, planning to stop at the Acuff Steak House for dinner. If you've never eaten there, you have missed out on another Real Life Redneck Experience. Suffice it to say we figured they would never bat an eyelash at us in our completely dishevelled state.
When we got there, they were closed. I forgot they rolled up the sidewalks at 6:30 p.m. there. Everyone else waits until at least 8:00. We headed on up Farm To Market Road 400 to Idalou. We thought we could probably get a meal at what used to be the "Crossroads Restaurant". This week is was Miguel's House of Something or Other. They do wait until 8:00 to roll up the sidewalks in Idalou, but evidently Miguel had big plans for the evening, 'cause his sidewalks were stowed by 7:30. In the end we grabbed a Country Basket at the Idalou Dairy Queen.
Small town Dairy Queens are always prime people watching territory. This one was no exception.
We finally made it home about 10:00 p.m. It rained on us, and all our gear, all the way back from Idalou. The storm we were trailing left water knee deep on both sides of the road. Our ditches were rolling with whitecaps.
I really hate that lake.
But this is what made it all worthwhile? This!?
Friday, June 08, 2007
In which the author comes clean about today's mode of transportation.
When I woke up this morning, my eyes were all crusty and red. My nose was all stuffy and my throat was scratchy. Even my hair was crusty. I got in the shower and thoroughly de-crustified.
When I emerged, rather drippily, a few minutes later, I felt better. However, my ocular orbs totally balked at the idea of wearing contacts today. (I wear hard contacts and sometimes there just ain't no way of getting your eyes to cooperate with that type of intrusion.) I put on some war paint and smacked some gel in my freshly decrustified hair.
Then I threw on some shorts and a t-shirt and had breakfast. I dutifully packed my little backpack full of semi-professional clothing (casual Friday, dontcha know) and trudged out the front door.
That's when I was hit in the face with the wind. It is freakin' June and the wind was coming straight out of the north. It was only about 15 miles an hour - maybe 20 - but I was going to have to ride straight into it. And it was cold. Cold, I tell ya!
My steely resolve melted totally at that point and I turned on my miserable heel and went right back in the house. I changed into my semi-professional clothing and then drove Earl the Truck to work.
I've been sitting at my desk all morning, sneezing and wheezing. I tried whining to Mindy but she gave me some bullshit about suckin' it up and getting to work and how I would feel better and if not she'd just kick my butt or something. I told her to get the hell out of my office. She laughed, (laughed!) and said that is the speech I always give her when she shows up in a whiny mood.
I hate her.
But, I'm still here. My eyes are still crusty and my nose is all runny. I can't go home, 'cause this is a child free weekend and I really want to go out and play tonight. My mom always said if you're too sick to go to school, you're too sick to go out and play. Geeze. So now I have to stay here all damn day so I can go out and play tonight. (Jackson and I are going camping this weekend!!! Yay!)
Dammit!
And now for something completely different:
Here's a photo just for beth. Took this one the same day as the god-forsaken cow/windmill landscape. We do have a few pockets of beauty around here. ha ha!
When I emerged, rather drippily, a few minutes later, I felt better. However, my ocular orbs totally balked at the idea of wearing contacts today. (I wear hard contacts and sometimes there just ain't no way of getting your eyes to cooperate with that type of intrusion.) I put on some war paint and smacked some gel in my freshly decrustified hair.
Then I threw on some shorts and a t-shirt and had breakfast. I dutifully packed my little backpack full of semi-professional clothing (casual Friday, dontcha know) and trudged out the front door.
That's when I was hit in the face with the wind. It is freakin' June and the wind was coming straight out of the north. It was only about 15 miles an hour - maybe 20 - but I was going to have to ride straight into it. And it was cold. Cold, I tell ya!
My steely resolve melted totally at that point and I turned on my miserable heel and went right back in the house. I changed into my semi-professional clothing and then drove Earl the Truck to work.
I've been sitting at my desk all morning, sneezing and wheezing. I tried whining to Mindy but she gave me some bullshit about suckin' it up and getting to work and how I would feel better and if not she'd just kick my butt or something. I told her to get the hell out of my office. She laughed, (laughed!) and said that is the speech I always give her when she shows up in a whiny mood.
I hate her.
But, I'm still here. My eyes are still crusty and my nose is all runny. I can't go home, 'cause this is a child free weekend and I really want to go out and play tonight. My mom always said if you're too sick to go to school, you're too sick to go out and play. Geeze. So now I have to stay here all damn day so I can go out and play tonight. (Jackson and I are going camping this weekend!!! Yay!)
Dammit!
And now for something completely different:
Here's a photo just for beth. Took this one the same day as the god-forsaken cow/windmill landscape. We do have a few pockets of beauty around here. ha ha!
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Friday Cemetery Blogging
So far I have survived a week of bike riding to and from work. I did wimp out yesterday and call Jackson to come pick me up after work. I would've had to ride south into a 45 mile per hour sandstorm.
Today I road into the wind again, but it was only 10-20 miles per hour. It was fine until I crossed the railroad tracks about a mile and half from my house. The wind picked up and I didn't think I would make it. But I made it home, probably within minutes of stroking out on the side of the road.
I stopped at one of the larger intersections on my way home. I was in front, waiting at the stop sign. A car pulled up next to me on the left and we both waited patiently for an opening in the 5:11 to 5:13 p.m. rush hour traffic. All of a sudden, a dinky little car pulled up on my right.
It was a BMW Spider convertible, driven by one of our friendly neighborhood lawyers. He had the top down and was evidently not content to wait for me and the other car to get out of his way. Silly lawyer.
His car is so small, that sitting on my bike, I was looking down on the top of his head. I almost reached over and smacked him on the forehead. I gave him the evil eye, instead. He had the good grace to look a little embarrassed before squeezing through the 6 foot space between me and the curb and zipping on down the road. Silly lawyer.
I also saw little david on his way home. (He's just returned from Kenya.) Then I waved at the truck who I always cross paths with at the exact same spot on South Broadway every morning and every evening.
I've also made a new friend this week. I don't know his name, but he walks to work down Broadway street every morning. I usually pass him between the convenience store and the Baptist Church. Then when I get to work, I generally sit in the gazebo on the courthouse lawn for about 15 minutes and read a book so I can cool off before going into the building. He passes me then and always wonders at how I got that far that quickly. I always tell him it's because of my superfast bike. Every morning we've had this exact same conversation. Maybe next week we'll try throwing in some discussion of the weather.
But that's not what you were interested in, is it?
Last Sunday I took off and did a little cemetery exploring. Didn't find anything terribly exciting, but I did see some gorgeous landscape and had a really peaceful time. The picture I'm posting is not very good, technically speaking, but it was a neat experience.
Have you heard the legends of crows as death messengers? Sent to fortell death or to accompany a soul to the afterlife? Evidently this crow takes her work home with her and is living in the cemetery. She jumped up and flew at me - I guess I got too close to a nest or something. Or maybe I just scared her. Anyway, I managed to snap a photo before she was completely gone.
And this is another photo I took that day, just to show you that we do indeed have some real bovines here in Fake Cow County.
Monday, June 04, 2007
In which the author feels all self-righteous and thin.
Guess what!
I rode my bike to work today.
Do you know how cool that is? Well, it's way cool. That's how cool it is.
We have no public transportation here in Fake Cow County. Not really. There is a government subsidised van service that provides transportation mostly for MHMR clients and disabled vets back and forth to doctor's appointments and part-time jobs. It is technically open to the public, but I've never known of anyone else who's actually used it. Part of the problem is it doesn't have a set route. You have to call 24 hours in advance to schedule your "pick up". The Metro it ain't.
I've always been jealous of bloggers who talk about riding public transportation. It sounds so, well, interesting! Then my stinkin' brother bought a bike and has been riding back and forth to work. That wasn't any big deal because he lives only 4 blocks from his office. So, I wasn't impressed, but I was kind of jealous.
M2 is kicking my butt on the cholesterol contest, so I know I need more exercise. And I could stand to lose 10 or 90 pounds, too. It also cost me $65.00 last time I filled my truck with gas. I really, really wanted to ride a bike to work.
I have a 10 speed bike. You cannot imagine how much I hate it. I hate it a lot. Therefore, I never ride it. In fact, a few weeks ago, when I first thought about this, I checked it out and found the front wheel had been mangled up, evidently by Jackson or I crashing the riding lawnmower into it. I was not sad.
On Memorial Day I borrowed my sister-in-law's bike. She has the girl version of Jonboy's bike. I rode it from my house to my office. When I got back home, Katie said "You're already back? Wow."
Wow, indeed. I loved that bike. So I bought one just like it. It's simple. It has no brakes, really. And no stupid gears. And it's not pink. And you can actually sit mostly upright while riding.
And today I rode it to work and back.
Have I mentioned that I live four miles from my office?
Uphill, both ways.
I rode my bike to work today.
Do you know how cool that is? Well, it's way cool. That's how cool it is.
We have no public transportation here in Fake Cow County. Not really. There is a government subsidised van service that provides transportation mostly for MHMR clients and disabled vets back and forth to doctor's appointments and part-time jobs. It is technically open to the public, but I've never known of anyone else who's actually used it. Part of the problem is it doesn't have a set route. You have to call 24 hours in advance to schedule your "pick up". The Metro it ain't.
I've always been jealous of bloggers who talk about riding public transportation. It sounds so, well, interesting! Then my stinkin' brother bought a bike and has been riding back and forth to work. That wasn't any big deal because he lives only 4 blocks from his office. So, I wasn't impressed, but I was kind of jealous.
M2 is kicking my butt on the cholesterol contest, so I know I need more exercise. And I could stand to lose 10 or 90 pounds, too. It also cost me $65.00 last time I filled my truck with gas. I really, really wanted to ride a bike to work.
I have a 10 speed bike. You cannot imagine how much I hate it. I hate it a lot. Therefore, I never ride it. In fact, a few weeks ago, when I first thought about this, I checked it out and found the front wheel had been mangled up, evidently by Jackson or I crashing the riding lawnmower into it. I was not sad.
On Memorial Day I borrowed my sister-in-law's bike. She has the girl version of Jonboy's bike. I rode it from my house to my office. When I got back home, Katie said "You're already back? Wow."
Wow, indeed. I loved that bike. So I bought one just like it. It's simple. It has no brakes, really. And no stupid gears. And it's not pink. And you can actually sit mostly upright while riding.
And today I rode it to work and back.
Have I mentioned that I live four miles from my office?
Uphill, both ways.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Friday Cemetery Blogging
It rained again last night. This has been a really wet spring. I love nothing more than rain - the sound, the smell, the taste. Flashes of light and thunder at midnight. It's all good! As a result of all this rain my flower beds look wonderful and I've barely had to water my garden. The weeping willow tree hasn't yet gone into water shock and lost half its leaves, but the grass/weeds have to be mowed more often.
There is a national wildlife refuge not far from here, south of a town called Muleshoe. Jackson and I sometimes stop there in the dark of the night. There is a picnic area at the top of a hill on one side of the draw that runs through the reserve. We like to pull off the highway and park next to the picnic tables. There are no lights for miles. We sit in the back of the truck and listen to the howling coyotes. In the spring you can hear the cries of the baby coyotes. If you have never heard that, you've missed something incredible. You would swear it was a human child screaming somewhere out in the middle of the night. Coyotes are extremely cool.
One day we ended up at the reserve during the daylight. We decided to drive down the long dusty road that lead to the ranger station. I remember wondering what sort of federal sin a ranger had to commit to get banished to such a god-forsaken outpost. The wildlife they are reserving at this place? Rattlesnakes, lizards, jackrabbits, all manner of insidious bugs and the aforementioned coyotes. Nothing cute and fuzzy. Nothing large and impressive. Maybe a ratty old white-tailed deer on a good day.
Sure enough, the ranger turned out to be an old guy about two days out from retirement. He was pretty philosophical about it all and genuinely glad to see other human beings. He showed us around and then set up the interpretive slide show of the reserve for our viewing pleasure.
We viewed it. With pleasure.
There were an awful lot of pictures of beautiful wildflowers in the photos. I've lived around this area all my life and I've never seen anything that looked as well populated, botanically, as these pictures. I mentioned this to the ranger. He just grinned.
He said the slide show had been produced about ten years ago after one of the wettest spring seasons in history. They had wildflowers everywhere, many of which sprouted from seed that had lain dormant for decades. It was the only time before or since that he'd seen anything like that either. The government sent a photographer out from back east to do a slide show for the reserve.
The ranger laughed about how tourists (tourists? here?) occasionally come through the area, see the presentation and then are horribly disappointed by reality. He'd had a group of people from Great Britain just the week before (really? here?) who had been rather shocked by the barren expanse they were expected to explore. (Not much exploring to it - just stand outside the front door and look around. You can see it all from there.)
And what does this all have to do with cemeteries?
Just this - I thought I would post pictures of one of the ugliest cemeteries ever. This place is somewhere between Fake Cow County and Muleshoe. Here is the cemetery sign:
Notice that they recycled a sign from a defunct church and spray painted the cemetery name on it. BULA CEMETERY. This is the lovely view from the gate:
And the only monument:
Evidently, something happened to all the individual stones - I have no idea what. This is the only monument in the vast expanse. It lists all the names of the previously deceased. But what I really wanted to show you was the vast and verdant landscape stretching out behind the monument. If you look closely, you will see, well... nothing.
Do we know how to do wide open spaces around here, or what?
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