Friday Cemetery Blogging

A couple of weeks ago, Jackson and I were able to steal a Saturday morning to troll around some cemeteries. A good time was had by all. We found this little dude and, best of all, this year's Christmas card photo.

A Couple of Ding-a-lings

Friday night is our night. Its time for our labor union to do its yearly service project. Didn't know I belonged to a union? I sure do. The American Federation of Miscreant Malcontents (Local #207). Otherwise known as the January Birthday Club.

Lo these many years ago, Fake Cow County officials started giving employees a day off on their birthday. Pretty cool, eh? Only one problem - it didn't apply retroactively to those of us who'd already had a birthday that year. That meant Rose and I missed out. Not being people who would willingly pass up a chance to be loud and obnoxious about something, she and I decided to form a union and submit a formal list of demands as a means of rectifying the injustice.

It turned into a yearly tradition that continued until our boss retired. Every year we submitted a lengthy and verbose letter detailing our dissatisfaction with the lack of activity by management on the previous year's demands. We requested simple things like like recliners for our offices, free massage service, windows, personal secretaries, a sizeable wardrobe budget and an office chef. Stuff like that.

After a while, we decided our union needed some good karma, so we started a yearly community service project. Every year,Rose and I ring bells for the Salavation Army at Wal-Mart the Friday night before pheasant season opens.

Back when this started, we were both single, thinner and a decade younger. The night before pheasant season is when every drunken hunter in the country heads to Wal-Mart to buy shells, socks and assorted camoflauged crap. We were loud and sorta brassy, so we made tons of money from the drunken hunters.

That was then.

Now its a chore. It always seems to be a lot colder on our bell night these days. We used to do this for 4 hours. Now we complain and whine about sore feet and knees after just a couple of hours. We don't even sign up for more than 3 hours these days. And the drunken hunters? They are harder to fleece. But we still have a ton of fun!

This year Rose is sick, so we have to postpone for a week and will miss the hunters altogether. But we'll be there next Friday, doing our civic duty. Even though we still don't have recliners.

Standard Disclaimer: He's named after the Indian Chief, not the city.

My 7 year old nephew was upset, as usual, with his 16 year old brother yesterday. While his brother was dozing in a recliner across the room, he told me all about it.

Seattle: "I'm so mad at him! But I'm gonna have my revenge!"
Me: "Oh really? How so?"
Seattle: "Just wait 'till March 17th rolls around. Just wait!"
Me: "Um, why? What happens on March 17th?"
Seattle: "Its St. Patrick's Day. And he probably won't remember to wear green. And THEN I'll get him! I'm gonna pinch him hard!"
Me: "You are truly a diabolical mastermind, dude. I bow before your evil genius."
Seattle: "Yeah. I know."

...and he ran off to play some more.

Friday Cemetery Blogging

Who's afraid?

Not me.

Precious Moments: Just Plain Evil

We wasted some time at lunch on one of our favorite topics - Precious Moments bashing. We got to discussing what would happen if they suddenly tried to be more relevant and appeal to a younger market. The little buggers would no doubt be wearing t-shirts with pithy slogans.

Such as:

Official Thomas Kinkade Fan Club Member
Wouldn't you like to be a cracker, too?
Born to be White
Vanilla is my favorite flavor
My mom loves me enough to stay home.
Jesus Wants You! (But not in that way.)
Hellman's - Its more than just a sandwich spread.
Soccer Rules
I heart Toby Keith
Virgins for Christ
Jesus was White
Old Skool? No, Home-Schooled!
Hot for Preacher
Red? Yes! Yellow? Yes! Black? Yes! White? Yes! Rainbow? NO!

And my personal favorite: W is my co-pilot.

You need this.

I'm hoping I can get by with putting this on my blog by telling you to GO HERE and BUY THIS SHIRT NOW.

It made me laugh.

Friday Cemetery Blogging

Three graves in the sunlight.

Random Thoughts for Monday

Can't wait for election day tomorrow. Texas rocks the early voting, so unless you are a total purposeless dweeb, you should already have voted. (Well, ok. Maybe if you work out of town somewhere, then you can be excused for waiting until Tuesday, Jackson.) I sort of like the Etch-a-Vote machines, but truthfully, paper ballots were easier and faster and a hell of a lot less trouble.

Don't you love Michael Palin? Seriously. His Himalayan show is really gorgeous.

You know what freaks me out? Yuppies at home improvement stores.

A man sat across the desk from me this morning and told me very matter of factly that he is losing controll of the darkness inside him. The darkness is the loathing and self-hate that is eating him up - literally eating him up. He told me who he is going to kill and why. And I agreed that he a darn good reason for murder. The man he hates has stolen over 20 years of his life already, why give him the rest of it in exchange for a moment's satisfaction?

I really like that guy. But he has planned out the violent death of another human being and is physically struggling with himslef to keep from following through with his plan. Its a very old testament thing to see. Like watching Jacob wrestle the angel. People are absolutley fascinating.

Did anyone check out the moon tonight? Its full, of course.

I'm hungry for meat loaf.

Christmas is coming up. Anybody got any suggestions on what I should give Jackson? He is one of those irritating people who always gives really good gifts, but never asks for anything for himself. Bastard.

I start another drug offender class next week. I'm trying a different schedule and breaking it up into once a week for five weeks, instead of five times in two weeks. I am hoping that will keep me a little more sane.

Matthias the cat loves nothing more than a plastic egg, halved. It entertains him for days on end.

Friday Cemetery Blogging

This is a foot stone. Pearl had a headstone as well, but the footstone really caught my eye. In the early evening sun this stone was impossible not to touch. Once I saw it, I couldn't just stand over it and admire it through a camera lens. I had to get down on the ground and run my fingers over the rounded letters. (Avoiding the bird poo, of course.) It was simple, cool marble. I don't know what the text is made from - perhaps just another color of marble - but I love the look of the letters. Its an interesting name, too.

The whole thing had a special luster for me.

Pearl rocks her footstone. I'm trying to rock along with life. Life is pretty stressful right now, but things will change. Some of the change will be for the better. Some will not. But change is good.

However, I'm beginning to wonder if I've angered the gods. Or maybe I'm just not living right. I could tell you how my day went, but you really wouldn't believe me. I had all kinds of problems and tasks and even a good deed or two to juggle. I managed to keep all the knives in the air, but I think I've got a few cuts.

After much delay this evening, we got supper done and the table cleared. I sat down with my pictures to search for a cemetery view to post, when the phone rang. It was my grandmother.
She has "a stack of papers from the government" that she doesn't understand. "Some of them have deadlines. They're due in November, I think." No other family members are in town for the next few days and could I come help her with them?

Well of course I can.

And then maybe I'll go hang out with Pearl.

Help me, Obi Wan! You're my only hope...

I need your help.

Katies is learning how to differentiate fact from opinion in her reading class. On the way to school Monday I showed her the nifty cool socks I was wearing. They were orange and black and white striped with googly-eyed bats on the sides. I told her everyone loves them and everybody wishes they had some.

She told me that was just an opinion.

Stupid education.

I told her heck, no! It is a fact that everyone in the world loves my socks and wants a pair of their own. A fact, I tell ya!

She told me facts can be proven.

I told her I could prove it.

You see where this is going, don't you? If you would be so kind as to send a note, a postcard, a letter or a scrap of oily paper to Katie and tell her how much you love my socks and how much you wish you had a pair just like them, it would be verrry helpful. Heh heh. There is a link in the sidebar you can click to send me an email and I will provide you with the address for your "Dear Katie" cards and letters. Thank you in advance for helping me to maintain the precarious balance of power in the spooky household.

Rachel's mom said I had to do this.

You should do it too!

1. List two things that are true of you that are not stereotypically true of members of some group that you belong to.

a. I get out of bed at 5:25 a.m. during the week.
b. I am a flamin' liberal.

2. List two unusual talents that you have.

a. I have entered the Ironman Triathlon for the past 7 years. I hold three state championships and set two national records in the swimming portion of the competition.
b. I am a liar.

3. List two unusual weaknesses that you have.

a. I keep buying chocolate brown shirts. I don't know why. (I'm wearing one now!)
b. I hate to read good, thought-provoking books that will lead to personal growth and self-improvement. I have very shallow reading tastes. (Not "romance" shallow, but definitely dead-body-on-the-lawn shallow.)


4. List two unusual things that you aspire to.

a. I want to publish a coffee table book of entertaining cemetery photography.
b. Early retirement followed by a lucrative career as a globetrotting heiress who solves English country house murders. (Dear Mom & Dad: Please win the lottery, so as to help me with that heiress part.)

5. List two words that you use more than most people do.

a. bastards!
b. cool!

6. List two foods that you dislike and most other people like.

a. chocolate without nuts.
b. white or yellow cake.

7. List two strange habits that you have.

a. I rearrange the furniture in the house about once a month. (I can't do this with my office because I only have outlets on one wall and the sameness of the place makes me a little nuts sometimes.)
b. I never iron the back of a shirt. What's the point?

Friday Cemetery Blogging

These are pictures I got from little david. They were taken at a cemtery in Australia on a visit to see their son and daughter-in-law. I really love the angel, so you get three pictures of that!

Um, maybe I should add that the son and daughter aren't, you know, dead or anything. They just enjoyed visiting the cemetery too!

Random Thoughts for Wednesday

I had meatloaf at church tonight for supper. It was so freakin' good. Really.

God, I hate going to church on Wednesday nights. Seriously. But Katie still loves it. And its pretty short. Its not so much that church is disagreeable. Home is just so much more agreeable.

Katie shut her finger in a desk drawer and made it bleed rather respectably. She has decided that an episode of Full House will make it all better. I am considering breaking a toe so her daddy will let me change the channel.

Maybe I will just blog instead.

Jackson just told me Annie Potts was his favorite Designing Woman. Mary Jo? Mary JO?! That's so wrong. Everyone knows Julia was the best. I don't know how I managed to marry him not knowing his heretical views in this area. When I asked him to redeem himself by telling me his favorite Golden Girl, he just rolled his eyes. (Dorothy is the correct answer here, people.)

Good lord, he just named all the characters on Beverly Hills 90210. Our marriage is in serious trouble here.

Katie and Jackson are leaving me alone to my own devices this weekend. I think I will go explore a cemetery. I'm about to get desperate about searching for a Christmas card photo.

I want some feety pajamas.

This has been a crazy week at work. All my people are crazy. Full-moon crazy. I am ready for the weekend.

Have I told you we have a new cat? Omar Jones has left the building. So, we adopted a new kitty. His name is Mathias and he's very scruffy. And skittish.

Got us some tickets to see the Transiberian Orchestra the day after Thanksgiving. Yessireebob.

My new rubber band ball is a measly half inch. Sigh...

Jackson wants to know how it is that the kids in his classes can clandestinely text on a tiny illicit cell phone at incredible speeds, yet the pound around on the key board one lousy key at a time. "Little peckers..." he said. (He may well be ready for the weekend too.)

Got a phone call today from a counselor at our local out-patient treatment program. She was doing follow up on a woman I'd referred to their program a few months ago. Bad timing. The woman went to court yesterday on a motion to revoke her probation. She told the judge that of course she kept using drugs - after all everyone knows "relapse is a part of recovery". But the Judge could trust her to stay clean now. She will "never do drugs again" and since she's never said that before, that makes it true.

Did I mention that all my people are crazy this week?

Tigger has left the building.

There was much weeping and gnashing of teeth at the Spooky household last night. It was a solemn and somber scene.

Well, ok. Maybe not really. But I was certainly upset.

Maria has been cleaning my house for lo, these many years. Long before there was a Jackson, or a Katie, or a house outside of town, or an Earl or a motorcycle or wrinkles or tired feet, there was Maria. The only prenuptual agreement that Jackson and I have is that if we split up, Maria comes with me. However, I have been informed that certain parties fully plan to violate said prenup at such time as there is a parting of the ways. The thought of that battle alone may keep our household intact.

I was single and living on my own when Maria and I first hooked up. I was complaining to Rose one day about my house. I am generally a neat person. Clutter and disorder get on my nerves after a while. But I am also a packrat. I told Rose that I was going to have to go through the nice, neat piles that occupied all corners of my house and garage and get rid of stuff. I claim fame as an excellent surface cleaner, but seldom ever think about doing the deep cleaning until it is fairly atrocious.

Rose suggested I get someone to clean my house. I immediately scoffed at that idea. After all, I was single. And middle class. And perfectly capable of cleaning my own damn house. And there were starving children in Africa.

Rose listened to all my excuses and told me to do whatever I wanted. But she was single and she had someone clean her house and the sky hadn't fallen nor the moon turned to blood.

So, after a few days of mulling it over, I started looking for someone. That was about 12 years ago and Maria has been visiting me weekly ever since.

She is from Mexico and barely spoke English when we met. She is married and has twin sons who are now grown. She now has her GED and has been taking some continuing education classes at the junior college. She worked at a loan company and other full-time jobs, but still comes to my house every week. I only actually see her once or twice a year, but I feel like we are growing old together.

I had no idea how to go about hiring a cleaning lady, so the first time we talked she asked me what I wanted her to do. I can't remember what I actually told her, but it was along the lines of "do whatever you want". So, some days when I come home, the house smells clean, everything is shiny and nothing has changed. Other days, the house smells clean, everything is shiny and she has rearranged all the pots and pans in the cabinet. Or she has cleaned out the refrigerator. Or she has organized my closet. Or whatever else takes her fancy.

I love her.

However, like any relationship, we do have our problems. Maria is old school. She has never, ever questioned how my house is decorated. But she tends to break a gargoyle or a skull about once a year. She hasn't broken any of my madonnas or icons. Just skulls and gargoyles. I don't complain. I figure it is a small price to pay and I feel certain she lights a candle for me each week at mass and I can use all the help I can get in that area.

But, then there is the rubber band ball.

I recently started subscribing to the newspaper again. (Like some sort of real adult, which is very depressing.) In addition to the sudoku, my greatest pleasure as a subscriber is rubber band storage. My first rubber band ball reached about an inch and a half in diameter. I bounced it on the side table during boring TV shows. I rubbed it and molded it and painstakingly arranged the bands to optimize the orbital shape.

Then one day after Maria came, it was gone. I was crushed.

I started a new ball - determined that this would be even more impressive than the last. I would hide it before I left for work on Wednesdays so I knew it would be safe when I returned home. It grew and grew. Then one day I forgot.

When I arrived home from work to the sparkly, lemony-fresh house, I remembered. I ran to the end table and there it was! Still in place. I added to it. It got bigger and bigger. It was bigger and better than the first ball. And for the past month it has set on the table, undisturbed by the ministrations of Maria.

Last night I had to teach a class. I got home a little after 8:00. Jackson left the paper and the rubber band for me so I could enjoy my puzzle and play with my ball. I sat down to relax.

I couldn't find the ball. No ball! I searched high and low, but no luck. It is gone.

I am crushed.

Random Thoughts for Monday

I am awash with randomness because I have writer's block and have nothing very interesting to say.

Being child-free this weekend, Jackson and I spent some time roaming around the record store. I bought Rod Stewart's Great American Songbook cd. I've always loved Rod Stewart. But what the heck is the deal with him selling his last two albums on TV commericals? Its like he's Floyd Cramer or something. Makes me feel old.

Also, his hair. In the 80's I thought he had the best damn hair ever. That was 20 years ago. It is so time for him to comb it.

And maybe wash it.

Ok, enough about the hair.

Also, since it was a child-free weekend, we had decided to go to a play in Big Flat City after we visted Jackson's mom in the hospital. We went to the record store and to dinner. Later, while the highway patrolman was running Jackson's license, checking for warrants, we remembered that we'd forgotten the play!

(The light on my license plate was out.)

I went to the university bookstore this afternoon since it is the only place in town that sells art supplies. I paid waaay too much for some gesso to cover up a really horrible painting. I hope to salvage the canvass for something way less third-graderish. As a painter I am a darn good draw-er.

I just learned that Katie didn't know a vampire can't come into your house unless invited. Tsk, tsk. Her education is sadly lacking.

I'm in the mood to see Nightmare Before Christmas again.

If I were to ever go back to school, which is not something I have any intention of doing, I would do a thesis over the Old Testament morality of horror movies. Wonder what kind of Phd. I could get with that?

Today it finally felt like fall. Fall lasts for about 36 hours total around here. I am ready for some cold weather. I love nothing better than sleeping in a freezing cold room with lots of heavy blankets.

Wonder if I can convince anyone to go camping with me in November...?

Random Thoughts For Thursday

I was sick yesterday and stayed home from work. None of my cats would snuggle up with me. What the hell kind of good-for-nuthin’ pets are they??

Some stupid turd took a gun to our high school this morning. It discharged, possibly accidentally, but no one was hurt. (This turned out later to be totally untrue. No gun, no nothing. Just goes to show how on edge people are.)

One of my guys came in this morning and reported he’d lost his job as a cook. Why? He was supposed to be at work at 9:15. His alarm didn’t go off until 9:30. He called when he woke up. The manager told him he was fired. They held his job while he was in jail on this charge and that was his last chance. They don’t need him anymore. My guy is all “righteous anger” about it and plans to take it up with the general manager. Because This. Is. Unfair.

Told him not to waste their time. They will just laugh at him. Hell, I was laughing at him. (He’s now working at Sonic, which is also funny, because my other two Sonic employees will chew him up and spit him out, then grind him under their grimy heels. He’ll really think that’s unfair.)

David asked if I still have my motorcycle. I do. But it’s broke. I haven’t had it fixed all summer because I am tired of it breaking down and standing me all over the countryside. Therefore, we are selling both motorcycles and buying newer ones. Anybody wanna buy a persnickety motorcycle?

One of my women, who’s been out of work for an eternity and had an extremely tough time getting a job due to a felony theft conviction, got hired! She will make $7.25 at a gas station, which is pretty dang good! There may be hope for her yet.

Finally got our house painted this week. It is still grey and black and white, which makes me very happy. I had no idea it would be so hard to get people to come out and give you an estimate. I even told one company that I would pay a fee for the estimate. Still nothing. We finally found somebody who was hungry for work. He did a good job. He painted more parts grey and fewer parts white. That also made me happy.

The books in my “to be read” pile are mocking me. I think I will kick them out and start over.

I have misplaced my Bill Bryson book, “The Mother Tongue: English and How it Got That Way.” Color me distressed. It is a book I read bits and pieces from over and over again. Bryson is on my list of people I want to be when I grow up.

We are having lunch at Mi Mexico. That will make everything all better.

Look what came in the mail!

My friend Janet volunteers for her church's clothing ministry. The day I posted the desiderata for The Church of the Firstborn of the Holy Flaming Fedora, something cool arrived at their clothing room. It was blue and velvet and she decided it was destined to live at my house.

I thought I would model it for you:

Friday Cemetery Blogging

Yet another Cemetery fence for your viewing pleasure. Note that Fake Cow County spiders make much less daring and intricate webs than do their East Texas cemetery spider counterparts.

The Junior Picaso Club

Last year Jackson was a stay at home dad. He was the world's greatest homeroom mother. This year he is working out of town, so I am the official school-type event attender and transporter.

I am so not good at that, let me tell ya.

A month or so back, we noticed an ad in the newspaper for an after school art class at the university for kids Katie's age. T, who is one of the wackos from work, has kids about Katie's age and they saw the ad too. We worked out a plan whereby we take turns picking up the kids after school each Thursday and dropping them off at the class. That way neither of us has to miss too much work.

The first week, we both had to go so we could register the kids. I picked up Katie from school and we headed to the class where we met T and her kids. The classroom was crowed with rowdy little kids and their mothers.

T and I directed our entourage to park their cheeks in the plastic chairs while we filled out the forms and wrote the checks. We were being all task-orientated and taking care of business. We didn't know we were supposed to ask questions.

We were surrounded by a flurrying gaggle of outfitted mothers who were very concerned that their jewlery matched their capri and cardigan sets. They were also very concerned that their children get the best possible art instruction.

"What sort of mediums will you be working in?"
"How hands on will this be? Allison really prefers to hands on."
"Miss! MISS! Are we just gonna draw in here? Is that all??"
"Brendon wants to know if you will be doing any thing besides drawing. He's not yet sure whether or not he wants to stay."

On and on and on. I wrote my check and tried to back away as quickly as possible. I finally got to the door and made a run for it. I stopped outside the building and sucked in some sunshiny, mother-free air. T was standing beside me. We looked warily back towards the classroom, which was still full of fussy women and bratty kids.

T looked at me and said "I feel so white."

We went back to work and washed the cotillion dust off our hands.

Dang it! I don't wanna be Superman!

There's a reason the URL is Mujer Maravilla. Geeze!

You Are Superman

Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. And pretty cute too. No wonder you're the most popular superhero ever!

What Superhero Are You?