Monday, September 29, 2008
A feminist's view on Palin
The reason that we should all be very afraid of the McCain/Palin ticket. This is Kathleen Parker's opinion on the whole thing.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Autumn Cycle
Fall is in the air. It is nearly October. The corn in this vast prairie, where I live, is ripening and rustling in the fields, the beans are turning from green to yellow to brown and the trees are beginning to show autumn’s fiery paintbrush in yellow, orange and red.
The early morning air is crisp and clear, the days are warm and the nights return to their coolness when the sun retreats on the western horizon.
After I am ready for work and I leave the house, I spend the next glorious half hour in the dim of the early morning. I don a sweatshirt, jacket, gloves and my helmet and hop on my scooter. My ride to work is a calm and head clearing start to my day. There is minimal traffic. The bracing coolness on my exposed skin chases any sleep from my body. I am awake. I am alive.
I arrive at work and step into the cacophony of conveyors and fork trucks. I stop for a moment and drink in the warmth of the building and the liquid of my coffee. I anticipate the outcome of the day and what I need to do to make sure that the work gets done on time. I listen to people complain about their co-workers. I watch as employees work hard and do their best and am honored that they give me their all. I commend them. We get the job done, as a team. It is satisfying and the day is over.
I step outside. I breathe in the warmth that has replaced the cool of the morning. I pack up my jacket and sweatshirt and hop on my scooter for the second time. The air is balmy and warm and there is no need for gloves. I ride towards home. There is more traffic than this morning. I take the scenic route home, along the cemetery, by the woods. I drive from sunshine to shadow and the temperature of the shade hits my face and arms and cools me. It reminds me that the winter months are coming.
I arrive at home and am greeted by my dog. We play catch in the yard or head to go chase rabbits or squirrels in the woods. Worn out, we head back home. We eat our supper. We lay on the couch. We ready for bed.
Night has fallen and my energy wanes. It’s time for bed. I sleep the sleep of infants, deep, unencumbered and wake the next morning to start the cycle again.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Wednesday Rant
Excuse me sir, what did you say?
You shout so loud it’s hard to tell
You say that I should change my ways
Or I am surely bound to Hell.
Well I know you’d damn me if you could
But my friend that’s simply not your call
If God is great and God is good
Why is your heaven so small?
~Susan Werner
I have been very introspective of late. This doesn’t happen very often and I am not often this quiet. Life is pretty good and the job hasn’t even been too bad. I am not sure what is causing my deep thought.
I happened to be listening to some music last night while I was online researching wind and solar power (I am excited to potentially start using less fossil fuel to heat my house). I started with the only Indigo Girls album that I cannot sing all the words to but then I remembered Susan. Susan Werner is a very versatile female folk artist. I have seen her in concert and actually met her and talked to her twice. I first heard her music one Sunday afternoon as I was driving from eastern Wisconsin back home to the western half of the state. She was being interviewed on NPR’s Weekend All Things Considered. She sang three songs on that show that all touched my heart and caused me to desire to find out more about her.
I started doing some digging. This was in the very early days of the internet and I did not have access because I lived out in the middle of nowhere. I found out that she was a classically trained musician in opera and that she decided at some point in her life to ditch her degree and pursue what she loved. She is a magnificent songwriter, an excellent pianist and guitarist and has the voice of an angel.
I have loved all of her music. Her early work was very “folky” and she has done a few covers that are wonderful (Vincent and Everybody’s Talkin’). She has done an album of torch songs and has some nice up-beat tunes. Her last album was a collection of tunes in a gospel fashion. The Gospel Truth is a collection that has been called “agnostic gospel”.
Like the quote at the top of this entry, she pokes fun at the people who are quick to preach about something and are so zealous that one cannot tell what they are zealous about. Listening to this album last night drew me further into myself.
Another of her lyrics goes “How do you love those, who never will love you, who are happy to throw you, out in front of the train.” I know that feeling. I know that there are a lot of people in the world that will not accept me for who I am. Granted, I don’t always take people at face value, but I sure try. To those of you who are reading this and think “well, I’d accept you if . . .” then that isn’t true acceptance. Sorry, putting a condition on it is like saying “I’d love you if . . . “. That just doesn’t fly here.
You shout so loud it’s hard to tell
You say that I should change my ways
Or I am surely bound to Hell.
Well I know you’d damn me if you could
But my friend that’s simply not your call
If God is great and God is good
Why is your heaven so small?
~Susan Werner
I have been very introspective of late. This doesn’t happen very often and I am not often this quiet. Life is pretty good and the job hasn’t even been too bad. I am not sure what is causing my deep thought.
I happened to be listening to some music last night while I was online researching wind and solar power (I am excited to potentially start using less fossil fuel to heat my house). I started with the only Indigo Girls album that I cannot sing all the words to but then I remembered Susan. Susan Werner is a very versatile female folk artist. I have seen her in concert and actually met her and talked to her twice. I first heard her music one Sunday afternoon as I was driving from eastern Wisconsin back home to the western half of the state. She was being interviewed on NPR’s Weekend All Things Considered. She sang three songs on that show that all touched my heart and caused me to desire to find out more about her.
I started doing some digging. This was in the very early days of the internet and I did not have access because I lived out in the middle of nowhere. I found out that she was a classically trained musician in opera and that she decided at some point in her life to ditch her degree and pursue what she loved. She is a magnificent songwriter, an excellent pianist and guitarist and has the voice of an angel.
I have loved all of her music. Her early work was very “folky” and she has done a few covers that are wonderful (Vincent and Everybody’s Talkin’). She has done an album of torch songs and has some nice up-beat tunes. Her last album was a collection of tunes in a gospel fashion. The Gospel Truth is a collection that has been called “agnostic gospel”.
Like the quote at the top of this entry, she pokes fun at the people who are quick to preach about something and are so zealous that one cannot tell what they are zealous about. Listening to this album last night drew me further into myself.
Another of her lyrics goes “How do you love those, who never will love you, who are happy to throw you, out in front of the train.” I know that feeling. I know that there are a lot of people in the world that will not accept me for who I am. Granted, I don’t always take people at face value, but I sure try. To those of you who are reading this and think “well, I’d accept you if . . .” then that isn’t true acceptance. Sorry, putting a condition on it is like saying “I’d love you if . . . “. That just doesn’t fly here.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Illinois Monsoon
Basement - wet but not flooded
Sump Pump - new submersible
Water Heater - dried out and functioning
Phone - died but got a spare from the ex
Cleo - MIA
Yea, it's been a full day for me. I went downtown to meet up with a friend of mine this morning. She never showed. I get home around 12:30 because I am reading the paper, working the crossword and just generally waiting for the rain to let up so I don't get drenched leaving the coffee shop. I step in the house and immediately know that there is something wrong, I hear the sump pump running, but it sounds strange. I head downstairs and don’t even have to get a step down to see that there is much water in the basement. I go down and step off the bottom step into about 8 inches or so of water. I pull the plug on the pump and disconnect it from the outlet pipe. The water is back flowing into the basement. I try and pull the fittings off the wet sump by hand. I can't. I curse and cut my finger for the first time. I am now bleeding from the back of my thumb.
I go upstairs (water is still running at a very high rate from the outlet) and run out to the garage. Grab the pipe wrench and head back downstairs. I get the pipe off the pump and get it on the backup pump. I go to connect the outlet to the sump and get drenched. I feel like I am being water tortured (which doesn’t take much for me). Water is spraying in my face, I am not happy. I get things connected and plug the dry pump into the outlet, verrrrry carefully. . . yea, not a fan of stray electricity either. I put the pump in the hole and it is running, but doesn’t sound good. I try and put the pump all the way in the hole and the motor is submerged, it isn't a sealed motor. I pull it back up and sit there holding it for a few minutes listening to it, and watching the water not going down in the basement. I swear. . . loudly. About this time I realize that the water heater element is probably under water. I shut the gas off and turn the temp gauge on the water heater off.
I shut the pump off and pull the plug again. I call my ex. I can't do this alone. I tell her that the sump pump is kicking my ass and she says that she will be right over. I look at my options and discover that the only thing that we can realistically do is route the water out one of the basement windows. I send her to the hardware store with my debit card. She comes back with 50 feet of 1" hose, hose clamps and the correct fitting to go onto the sump so that we can attach the hose. She rocks! We get that set up and get it pumping out the window out away from the house. I set the other pump back in the hole and sit there holding it so that the motor isn't submerged. I watch and watch and watch and watch, the water level isn't moving, not going up, not going down. About 10 minutes later, still not changing. And the sump that I am holding is getting hot and starts to smell bad. It kicks off, trips the breaker and the other one shuts off. I swear again . . . loudly.
I get the breaker tripped back on. Get the other sump running out the window again and we go upstairs. I get online to look at the big box hardware stores to see what they have available for sump pumps. I call Home Depot to see what they have left, anticipating that everyone is needing one today. They have one, Julie goes to get it. We get it hooked up, I cut the same thumb for the second time, this time bleeding fairly badly, and in the hole. It's PUMPING AWAY! Now, I watch and watch and realize that the water level has started to go down. YAY!
We go upstairs and about a half hour later, go back down. We can see cement that isn't covered with water. I try and light the pilot on the water heater. No dice. It's still damp and has water in it. I remove the access cover and we set up a fan and a space heater to try and dry it out.
Julie goes home. I get a phone call, I am talking on the phone and the person on the other end can no longer hear me. My phone crapped out. I don't have a home phone. I need a phone, I text Julie and ask her if she still has her old phone. She does. I make arrangements to go and get it. I go down and try and get the water heater going. I am wet, dirty from crawling around on the wet basement floor and I cannot get the effing access panel back on the water heater. I finally get it back on and get the pilot lit. So, whew, no need for a new water heater.
I go to Julie's to get the phone. I come back. We had noticed when Julie was here earlier that my female cat was not about, which is unusual for her. So, I start looking for Cleo. I still have not found her. I am not sure where she would be. I have looked everywhere. No Cleo. I am worried but not too worried, and still thinking that she will come out from her hiding place or show up outside.
So that was my Sunday. I am exhausted. I didn't get ANYTHING done that I wanted to get done today. I hope this isn't an omen of the week to come. . . I don’t know if I can survive much more.
On the bright side, Cleo crawled out of her hiding place. Ahhh relief.
Sump Pump - new submersible
Water Heater - dried out and functioning
Phone - died but got a spare from the ex
Cleo - MIA
Yea, it's been a full day for me. I went downtown to meet up with a friend of mine this morning. She never showed. I get home around 12:30 because I am reading the paper, working the crossword and just generally waiting for the rain to let up so I don't get drenched leaving the coffee shop. I step in the house and immediately know that there is something wrong, I hear the sump pump running, but it sounds strange. I head downstairs and don’t even have to get a step down to see that there is much water in the basement. I go down and step off the bottom step into about 8 inches or so of water. I pull the plug on the pump and disconnect it from the outlet pipe. The water is back flowing into the basement. I try and pull the fittings off the wet sump by hand. I can't. I curse and cut my finger for the first time. I am now bleeding from the back of my thumb.
I go upstairs (water is still running at a very high rate from the outlet) and run out to the garage. Grab the pipe wrench and head back downstairs. I get the pipe off the pump and get it on the backup pump. I go to connect the outlet to the sump and get drenched. I feel like I am being water tortured (which doesn’t take much for me). Water is spraying in my face, I am not happy. I get things connected and plug the dry pump into the outlet, verrrrry carefully. . . yea, not a fan of stray electricity either. I put the pump in the hole and it is running, but doesn’t sound good. I try and put the pump all the way in the hole and the motor is submerged, it isn't a sealed motor. I pull it back up and sit there holding it for a few minutes listening to it, and watching the water not going down in the basement. I swear. . . loudly. About this time I realize that the water heater element is probably under water. I shut the gas off and turn the temp gauge on the water heater off.
I shut the pump off and pull the plug again. I call my ex. I can't do this alone. I tell her that the sump pump is kicking my ass and she says that she will be right over. I look at my options and discover that the only thing that we can realistically do is route the water out one of the basement windows. I send her to the hardware store with my debit card. She comes back with 50 feet of 1" hose, hose clamps and the correct fitting to go onto the sump so that we can attach the hose. She rocks! We get that set up and get it pumping out the window out away from the house. I set the other pump back in the hole and sit there holding it so that the motor isn't submerged. I watch and watch and watch and watch, the water level isn't moving, not going up, not going down. About 10 minutes later, still not changing. And the sump that I am holding is getting hot and starts to smell bad. It kicks off, trips the breaker and the other one shuts off. I swear again . . . loudly.
I get the breaker tripped back on. Get the other sump running out the window again and we go upstairs. I get online to look at the big box hardware stores to see what they have available for sump pumps. I call Home Depot to see what they have left, anticipating that everyone is needing one today. They have one, Julie goes to get it. We get it hooked up, I cut the same thumb for the second time, this time bleeding fairly badly, and in the hole. It's PUMPING AWAY! Now, I watch and watch and realize that the water level has started to go down. YAY!
We go upstairs and about a half hour later, go back down. We can see cement that isn't covered with water. I try and light the pilot on the water heater. No dice. It's still damp and has water in it. I remove the access cover and we set up a fan and a space heater to try and dry it out.
Julie goes home. I get a phone call, I am talking on the phone and the person on the other end can no longer hear me. My phone crapped out. I don't have a home phone. I need a phone, I text Julie and ask her if she still has her old phone. She does. I make arrangements to go and get it. I go down and try and get the water heater going. I am wet, dirty from crawling around on the wet basement floor and I cannot get the effing access panel back on the water heater. I finally get it back on and get the pilot lit. So, whew, no need for a new water heater.
I go to Julie's to get the phone. I come back. We had noticed when Julie was here earlier that my female cat was not about, which is unusual for her. So, I start looking for Cleo. I still have not found her. I am not sure where she would be. I have looked everywhere. No Cleo. I am worried but not too worried, and still thinking that she will come out from her hiding place or show up outside.
So that was my Sunday. I am exhausted. I didn't get ANYTHING done that I wanted to get done today. I hope this isn't an omen of the week to come. . . I don’t know if I can survive much more.
On the bright side, Cleo crawled out of her hiding place. Ahhh relief.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
I'm B O R E D!!
Yes, bored. I would love to spend my time outside, sitting at a coffee shop reading a newspaper, magazine or a good book or hanging out by water somewhere. But I am stuck at work and bored.
It is a beautiful early autumn day outside and I have to be at work. The skies are clear, the air is crisp and everything is still green and I have to be at work. I have to listen to the whir of the conveyors and the honk of the horns on the equipment instead of the birds and the sound of the breeze. I have to sit at a desk or pack pallets instead of lounging outside in the back yard on my hammock or walking in the woods with my dog. I have to wear steel-toed shoes and socks instead of running around in my sandals or barefooted. I have to stare at a computer screen instead of peering at life through the lens of my camera.
You see, there are many things that I would rather be doing than work. However, my work ethic keeps me coming to work every day at 6:30 am and staying until at least 3:30 pm. I think I got that from my parents and working on the farm. The cows don’t take days off, so we couldn’t either and my father was and is a firm believer in the old adage “Make hay while the sun shines”. So if the sun was out and there was hay to harvest, that’s what we were doing. I also have a mortgage to pay and I need a new car, so I will continue to work. But it will not keep me from longing to be out in the crisp autumn days of west-central Illinois and will not quench the desire to be out on my bike in the middle of no where, dodging the wooly worms on the road, with the wind at my back.
*Sigh!*
It is a beautiful early autumn day outside and I have to be at work. The skies are clear, the air is crisp and everything is still green and I have to be at work. I have to listen to the whir of the conveyors and the honk of the horns on the equipment instead of the birds and the sound of the breeze. I have to sit at a desk or pack pallets instead of lounging outside in the back yard on my hammock or walking in the woods with my dog. I have to wear steel-toed shoes and socks instead of running around in my sandals or barefooted. I have to stare at a computer screen instead of peering at life through the lens of my camera.
You see, there are many things that I would rather be doing than work. However, my work ethic keeps me coming to work every day at 6:30 am and staying until at least 3:30 pm. I think I got that from my parents and working on the farm. The cows don’t take days off, so we couldn’t either and my father was and is a firm believer in the old adage “Make hay while the sun shines”. So if the sun was out and there was hay to harvest, that’s what we were doing. I also have a mortgage to pay and I need a new car, so I will continue to work. But it will not keep me from longing to be out in the crisp autumn days of west-central Illinois and will not quench the desire to be out on my bike in the middle of no where, dodging the wooly worms on the road, with the wind at my back.
*Sigh!*
Monday, September 08, 2008
Chicago
So I made the trek to Chicago on Sunday. I drove my little truck up to University Park and jumped on part of Chicago’s marvelous public transportation system, paid my $5 (no trip limit all weekend, a better bargain, you will not find) and rode the train into the heart of Chicago. I got off the train at what used to be called the Randolph Street Station, but has been renamed Millennium Station for the park that has been created across Michigan Avenue. I had an hour to think about what was going to happen once I got there and by the time I stepped off the train I was shaking like a leaf.
I met a wonderful woman there. We wandered around Millennium Park and just sat and talked for about an hour. We had been emailing back and forth and had spoken on the phone for one long conversation and a couple of times after that, but we had never done the face-to-face thing. It was good to see her and meet her and just hang out with her.
I will interject that there had been a huge hatch of dragonflies by the water and they were EVERYWHERE. It was a lot of fun to watch them fly around our heads and light on the flowers and grasses in the gardens that we passed through.
We talked about everything: Politics, growing up, the weather, jobs, work history, animals, the dragonflies, etc. Then we went and ate some lunch and wandered about the city a little more. I had my own private walking tour of the riverfront and we wandered around just looking at the buildings and the architecture up and down the streets. She is beautiful, intelligent, witty and fun to be around. I like her a lot, but there were no sparks. D A M N I T! I am pretty sure that she felt the same way, so I guess we’re on the same page. It was nice and I want to keep her friendship because she is a person of substance and makes me want to be a better person. I kind of knew that this was where we were at, but you have to take a closer look sometimes, hold things up to the light and examine them.
I know it sounds like I am being ungrateful. But I am grateful. She showed me parts of the city I had never seen before and she gave me a true Chicagoan’s appreciation of that city and I have a new friend, someone that I can talk to and listen to and have a new reason to go to Chicago. The “wins” in the situation far outnumber the losses.
I guess I will go back to the old drawing board and trust that the Universe has something bigger and better in mind for me. And, yea, there are no U-Haul’s in my immediate future. . .
I met a wonderful woman there. We wandered around Millennium Park and just sat and talked for about an hour. We had been emailing back and forth and had spoken on the phone for one long conversation and a couple of times after that, but we had never done the face-to-face thing. It was good to see her and meet her and just hang out with her.
I will interject that there had been a huge hatch of dragonflies by the water and they were EVERYWHERE. It was a lot of fun to watch them fly around our heads and light on the flowers and grasses in the gardens that we passed through.
We talked about everything: Politics, growing up, the weather, jobs, work history, animals, the dragonflies, etc. Then we went and ate some lunch and wandered about the city a little more. I had my own private walking tour of the riverfront and we wandered around just looking at the buildings and the architecture up and down the streets. She is beautiful, intelligent, witty and fun to be around. I like her a lot, but there were no sparks. D A M N I T! I am pretty sure that she felt the same way, so I guess we’re on the same page. It was nice and I want to keep her friendship because she is a person of substance and makes me want to be a better person. I kind of knew that this was where we were at, but you have to take a closer look sometimes, hold things up to the light and examine them.
I know it sounds like I am being ungrateful. But I am grateful. She showed me parts of the city I had never seen before and she gave me a true Chicagoan’s appreciation of that city and I have a new friend, someone that I can talk to and listen to and have a new reason to go to Chicago. The “wins” in the situation far outnumber the losses.
I guess I will go back to the old drawing board and trust that the Universe has something bigger and better in mind for me. And, yea, there are no U-Haul’s in my immediate future. . .
Thursday, September 04, 2008
New Beginnings
I have placed my face on a singles website: Tangowire.com. And I have a couple of pictures of my mug there and along with a little bit of information about me. I have had a few people email me and say, “Hey! What’s shakin’?!” And I have emailed several people and got ZERO response. It’s pretty rude if you ask me at least have the decency to say that you aren’t interested.
The most recent was a young lady from Missouri. I will not divulge the city or the name to keep her out of this venue. This young lady is 25. I will be 43 in November. She contacted me and I asked her why she did. Her response: She said that I looked like I was very huggable and a lot of fun. Hmm. . . how does one take that? So she starts emailing me, never mind that I was a senior in high school the year she was born, and says that she really wants to get to know me. Okayyyyyyyyyy. So I start telling her stuff about me. The things I like to do, that I don’t take my work too seriously, that I like to be outside, where I grew up, all that stuff. And then she asks me if I have AIM or something to chat with. . . and I? Well, of course, I say yes. So she is talking about her work (in politics) and I am really a-political, I am just NOT into it. And she is talking about how she wants to be in DC within a year and I am thinking “Wow, I hope I never took myself that seriously”. So thankfully, I think she realized that there was quite a difference, both in age and in personality. Yea, I am fun and huggable, but I like to live and living, in my humble opinion, is not about a job or career.
There have been a couple of others. One of which I think I may have scared off by telling her that she could come meet me on Sunday morning for coffee, the paper and conversation (which is ALL I wanted). Then there was this woman who contacted me and gave me her and her partner’s email addresses and said that she was with the most wonderful woman in the world and wanted us all to get together and then shortly thereafter, contacted me and said, “We are having some trouble and I don’t know where our relationship is going. Best of luck to you”. Then, POOF, gone.
There have also been a couple of successful pairings, if only for friendship. I spent a couple hours talking to a woman last night. We told stories on ourselves and laughed and I think we both had a really good time. I am a bit worried because she is already calling me babe and darlin’. But I think she is harmless (and 2000 miles away).
I have actually spent a LOT of time emailing someone that is geographically closer (within 3 hours) and have had a wonderful time getting to know her. She is smart and funny and I think we get each other. We have a similar background in regards to religion growing up and where we are now. And it actually appears that she gets along with her family about as well as I do mine (which is not so well). I am actually going to go and meet up with her this weekend. I am a little scared that we may not get along as well as I think may be possible, but who knows? We spent about an hour on the phone on Monday. There were lots of laughs and only a few moments of pregnant silence when it appeared neither of us had anything to say. I will see if that persists, or if it was just the “first real conversation” jitters.
It’s different face to face. You get the interaction and the eye contact. You get to see the little mannerisms that you don’t know are there. It has been a VERY long time since I have been on the dating scene (and the time that I spent on it before was very limited), so I don’t know that I really know how to do it. Time will tell. My next post may be one of utter despair that my meeting didn’t work out very well or who knows, maybe I’ll go rent a U-haul for the second date.
The most recent was a young lady from Missouri. I will not divulge the city or the name to keep her out of this venue. This young lady is 25. I will be 43 in November. She contacted me and I asked her why she did. Her response: She said that I looked like I was very huggable and a lot of fun. Hmm. . . how does one take that? So she starts emailing me, never mind that I was a senior in high school the year she was born, and says that she really wants to get to know me. Okayyyyyyyyyy. So I start telling her stuff about me. The things I like to do, that I don’t take my work too seriously, that I like to be outside, where I grew up, all that stuff. And then she asks me if I have AIM or something to chat with. . . and I? Well, of course, I say yes. So she is talking about her work (in politics) and I am really a-political, I am just NOT into it. And she is talking about how she wants to be in DC within a year and I am thinking “Wow, I hope I never took myself that seriously”. So thankfully, I think she realized that there was quite a difference, both in age and in personality. Yea, I am fun and huggable, but I like to live and living, in my humble opinion, is not about a job or career.
There have been a couple of others. One of which I think I may have scared off by telling her that she could come meet me on Sunday morning for coffee, the paper and conversation (which is ALL I wanted). Then there was this woman who contacted me and gave me her and her partner’s email addresses and said that she was with the most wonderful woman in the world and wanted us all to get together and then shortly thereafter, contacted me and said, “We are having some trouble and I don’t know where our relationship is going. Best of luck to you”. Then, POOF, gone.
There have also been a couple of successful pairings, if only for friendship. I spent a couple hours talking to a woman last night. We told stories on ourselves and laughed and I think we both had a really good time. I am a bit worried because she is already calling me babe and darlin’. But I think she is harmless (and 2000 miles away).
I have actually spent a LOT of time emailing someone that is geographically closer (within 3 hours) and have had a wonderful time getting to know her. She is smart and funny and I think we get each other. We have a similar background in regards to religion growing up and where we are now. And it actually appears that she gets along with her family about as well as I do mine (which is not so well). I am actually going to go and meet up with her this weekend. I am a little scared that we may not get along as well as I think may be possible, but who knows? We spent about an hour on the phone on Monday. There were lots of laughs and only a few moments of pregnant silence when it appeared neither of us had anything to say. I will see if that persists, or if it was just the “first real conversation” jitters.
It’s different face to face. You get the interaction and the eye contact. You get to see the little mannerisms that you don’t know are there. It has been a VERY long time since I have been on the dating scene (and the time that I spent on it before was very limited), so I don’t know that I really know how to do it. Time will tell. My next post may be one of utter despair that my meeting didn’t work out very well or who knows, maybe I’ll go rent a U-haul for the second date.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Long Time Gone
Yes, it has been two years since I have posted anything here. A lot has changed for me in those two years.
I am now single. I won’t go into the gory details here. It will just have to suffice to say that I made some big mistakes and was not very willing to deal with some issues that needed my full, undivided attention.
I am no longer working second shift. Yes, I have made that nasty change and have to get up at 5AM on a daily basis. It’s like I am back on the farm again. I am sure glad someone found caffeine and the FDA didn’t feel the need to ban it. I sure look forward to that coffee to jump start my day.
I am back on the dating scene. I think this may be what I am going to expound on today. Let me back up a moment by saying that I am a fairly shy individual outside of the blogosphere and the net and I lived in very rural Wisconsin for most of my life. I also tried very hard to be straight almost all of my life and while I got along great with the guys that I knew, none of them wanted to date someone who could talk farming and cars like they could. And rural Wisconsin definitely is not a place where there are a lot of “out” lesbians. Let’s just suffice it to say that I don’t have a lot of dating experience.
Those of you who know me, and if you don’t know me personally you can probably tell by my picture, know that I am not very feminine. I don’t look feminine. I don’t act feminine. I don’t sound feminine. But, I am attracted to feminine women. See, this is where I start having trouble. Unless I see the signs on a feminine woman (rainbow garb, flirting with other women, etc), the gaydar just doesn’t work very well on feminine women. Yup, I can spot a dyke from a mile away and so can most people, but trying to pick out the one out of ten women who are gay in the feminine realm it next to impossible unless they make the first move. And, my friends, they just aren’t moving towards me.
I went out to one of the gay friendly establishments here in town with a friend a couple of weeks ago and we played pool for a long time. I was watching the people come and go and saw a greater number of straight people in this bar than gay people. I am not sporty and I don’t want to play softball. I just don’t know where to go to meet people.
So here I sit. Single: Trying to figure out what to do and how to get myself out there to meet more people. I am open to suggestion. . . really.
I am now single. I won’t go into the gory details here. It will just have to suffice to say that I made some big mistakes and was not very willing to deal with some issues that needed my full, undivided attention.
I am no longer working second shift. Yes, I have made that nasty change and have to get up at 5AM on a daily basis. It’s like I am back on the farm again. I am sure glad someone found caffeine and the FDA didn’t feel the need to ban it. I sure look forward to that coffee to jump start my day.
I am back on the dating scene. I think this may be what I am going to expound on today. Let me back up a moment by saying that I am a fairly shy individual outside of the blogosphere and the net and I lived in very rural Wisconsin for most of my life. I also tried very hard to be straight almost all of my life and while I got along great with the guys that I knew, none of them wanted to date someone who could talk farming and cars like they could. And rural Wisconsin definitely is not a place where there are a lot of “out” lesbians. Let’s just suffice it to say that I don’t have a lot of dating experience.
Those of you who know me, and if you don’t know me personally you can probably tell by my picture, know that I am not very feminine. I don’t look feminine. I don’t act feminine. I don’t sound feminine. But, I am attracted to feminine women. See, this is where I start having trouble. Unless I see the signs on a feminine woman (rainbow garb, flirting with other women, etc), the gaydar just doesn’t work very well on feminine women. Yup, I can spot a dyke from a mile away and so can most people, but trying to pick out the one out of ten women who are gay in the feminine realm it next to impossible unless they make the first move. And, my friends, they just aren’t moving towards me.
I went out to one of the gay friendly establishments here in town with a friend a couple of weeks ago and we played pool for a long time. I was watching the people come and go and saw a greater number of straight people in this bar than gay people. I am not sporty and I don’t want to play softball. I just don’t know where to go to meet people.
So here I sit. Single: Trying to figure out what to do and how to get myself out there to meet more people. I am open to suggestion. . . really.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Gross
Ok. So Ms. O'brien has posted a story about a drinking a beer with a milk floatie in it. I aim to top that story in grossness. I have several. . . which to choose. . . which to choose . . . should I choose rotten cat? prolapsed uterus? being shat on? I believe that I will start out with the tamest and, if need be, work up from there.
Let me preface. I grew up on a dairy farm in northern Wisconsin. I also returned to the dairy farm as an adult and worked there. I loved that life (with the exception of not getting any time off), but when dealing with cows and other animals, well, lets just say that things can happen.
One day, I was hauling chopped straw into the barn for bedding for the cows. I was using a wheel barrow. I had just brought in a load and was headed out to get another (I needed six and I think I was on load four). The walk of the barn is about eight feet wide with gutters on each side and when you walk down the walk, you are faced with the asses of 71 large black and white bovines.
I don't remember who was feeding the cows on that particular day, but as I was headed back out to get the next load of straw, the feed cart was nearing the end of the manger and was making its way back to the silo for more feed. I looked and saw it coming and thought that I didn't want to wait for it to go by (I was impatient to get out of the barn and go about my own business). So, rather than wait for the feed cart to pass, I tried to duck behind the last cow and in front of the feed cart.
One other thing that I might add is that cows, especially dairy cows, with their diet rich in fiber, have a tendency to be shitters. And a milking dairy cow will probably drink seven to ten gallons of water a day, so they are also pissers. Dairy cows also tend to be nervous shitters and pissers and when someone that they don't know walks into the barn, they will all stand up and salute them with raised tails and showers of urine and feces.
So, back to my story. As you might imagine, just as I ducked to beat the feed cart, the cow on the end decided to relieve herself . . . O N M E. Warm, brown, shit flowed on my hair, in and behind my ear, on my shoulder and down my back, front and arm. I was covered. At that point, whether I was done hauling straw or not, I was finished. I walked into the milk house, where my mother was (and yes, she was laughing histerically) and she turned the hose on me to get the bulk of the shit off me. I then went to the house, stripped my clothes off in the garage and went in and took a REALLY LONG SHOWER.
Let me preface. I grew up on a dairy farm in northern Wisconsin. I also returned to the dairy farm as an adult and worked there. I loved that life (with the exception of not getting any time off), but when dealing with cows and other animals, well, lets just say that things can happen.
One day, I was hauling chopped straw into the barn for bedding for the cows. I was using a wheel barrow. I had just brought in a load and was headed out to get another (I needed six and I think I was on load four). The walk of the barn is about eight feet wide with gutters on each side and when you walk down the walk, you are faced with the asses of 71 large black and white bovines.
I don't remember who was feeding the cows on that particular day, but as I was headed back out to get the next load of straw, the feed cart was nearing the end of the manger and was making its way back to the silo for more feed. I looked and saw it coming and thought that I didn't want to wait for it to go by (I was impatient to get out of the barn and go about my own business). So, rather than wait for the feed cart to pass, I tried to duck behind the last cow and in front of the feed cart.
One other thing that I might add is that cows, especially dairy cows, with their diet rich in fiber, have a tendency to be shitters. And a milking dairy cow will probably drink seven to ten gallons of water a day, so they are also pissers. Dairy cows also tend to be nervous shitters and pissers and when someone that they don't know walks into the barn, they will all stand up and salute them with raised tails and showers of urine and feces.
So, back to my story. As you might imagine, just as I ducked to beat the feed cart, the cow on the end decided to relieve herself . . . O N M E. Warm, brown, shit flowed on my hair, in and behind my ear, on my shoulder and down my back, front and arm. I was covered. At that point, whether I was done hauling straw or not, I was finished. I walked into the milk house, where my mother was (and yes, she was laughing histerically) and she turned the hose on me to get the bulk of the shit off me. I then went to the house, stripped my clothes off in the garage and went in and took a REALLY LONG SHOWER.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Saturday AM Coffee
On a regular basis, my partner and I go to the local organic grocery/deli/coffee house, Strawberry Fields, and meet up with friends for coffee, conversation and KILLER white chocolate, raspberry scones. This originally started out as just Julie and I going there and waking up with a cup of coffee, a scone and the morning paper. It has grown into a weekly social outlet where we discuss anything from the purchase of a new IBook to issues that have perplexed us throughout the week. We look forward to it so much that we actually get out of bed earlier on Saturdays than we do the rest of the week.
Today we were having grand conversations about my experience at a local, mom-and-pop bike shop in town in comparison to our experience at Target (bad and great respectively), a dinner party in Amish Arthur, the difference between the IBook G4 and an IMac, the issues with assholes at work and just general mayhem that involves lots of laughing, swearing and heated discussion.
Often, there is live music on Saturday mornings. Most often it is blue-grass style music that is a very nice complement to the environment. Sometimes it is a local Yiddish combo which is a lot of fun. Other times there have been solo artists that have been very good. Today was not one of those days . . . just thinking back gives me the dry heaves! I saw on Friday when we stopped for coffee before work, that today was going to be the "musical stylings" of some young white kid from Peoria. Now, I know that young and white does not necessarily mean bad, but "musical stylings" tends to mean that this is someone who should be booted off American Idol in the first round. Think: tone deaf Barry Manilow. He started setting up and did a sound check and we got a glimpse of what we were in for. The electronic keyboard with the electronic drums was a dead give away. He also set up a video camera directly behind our table. I saw it, but no one else did.
We proceeded to BASH this kid to pieces because he was so bad and this was not the setting for 80's roller rink, couples skate music. He just did not fit in. . . he even had a small color changing ball on the table. About 15 minutes into his set, one of us realized that EVERYTHING we said was probably being picked up on the camera. This kid would have our commentary for the rest of his life. I was discussing how I thought that hell would be much hotter and smellier and there would be more stalagtites and stalagmites. We probably ruined this kid's career for him. That was our community service for the week.
Oh, by the way, the coffee and scone was GREAT!
Today we were having grand conversations about my experience at a local, mom-and-pop bike shop in town in comparison to our experience at Target (bad and great respectively), a dinner party in Amish Arthur, the difference between the IBook G4 and an IMac, the issues with assholes at work and just general mayhem that involves lots of laughing, swearing and heated discussion.
Often, there is live music on Saturday mornings. Most often it is blue-grass style music that is a very nice complement to the environment. Sometimes it is a local Yiddish combo which is a lot of fun. Other times there have been solo artists that have been very good. Today was not one of those days . . . just thinking back gives me the dry heaves! I saw on Friday when we stopped for coffee before work, that today was going to be the "musical stylings" of some young white kid from Peoria. Now, I know that young and white does not necessarily mean bad, but "musical stylings" tends to mean that this is someone who should be booted off American Idol in the first round. Think: tone deaf Barry Manilow. He started setting up and did a sound check and we got a glimpse of what we were in for. The electronic keyboard with the electronic drums was a dead give away. He also set up a video camera directly behind our table. I saw it, but no one else did.
We proceeded to BASH this kid to pieces because he was so bad and this was not the setting for 80's roller rink, couples skate music. He just did not fit in. . . he even had a small color changing ball on the table. About 15 minutes into his set, one of us realized that EVERYTHING we said was probably being picked up on the camera. This kid would have our commentary for the rest of his life. I was discussing how I thought that hell would be much hotter and smellier and there would be more stalagtites and stalagmites. We probably ruined this kid's career for him. That was our community service for the week.
Oh, by the way, the coffee and scone was GREAT!
Friday, March 31, 2006
Not Myself (or Why I really Still DO Need my Antidepressant)
Yes, Stephanie, I am still alive.
My absence from posting has been twofold.
The first reason is that I (actually we) have been very busy; Remodeling, working, riding bike, holding the couch down, etc.
We are actually done with the remodel and have been enjoying it for about three weeks now. The next room to be done is close on the horizon. We have the bug and will not be able to stop until the entire house has been transformed from that of an 80 year old woman (complete with long beige draperies and paneling) to OURS.
Work has been hellish. It's quarter end, you know. It has been busy and ugly and I have a boss that doesn't do much. I have another boss who has been pusing me to apply for a high stress opening dealing with international shipping. So, I submitted a resume and cover letter for this job and then withdrew it because I just didn't want the job. I also have a couple of people that I have to babysit on a nightly basis because they are too immature to handle themselves in a full time work situation. All that makes for one UNHAPPY girl.
I got my tax return from good old Uncle Sam. I also have carpal tunnel. I love to ride my bike, but the carpal tunnel makes it difficult and painful to ride a regular bicycle. So, put one and one together.
Extra moola in hand + sore hands riding an upright bike =
the decision to buy a recumbent.
I found a nice one and bought it a week later. So we have been spending as much time as possible on the bikes.
The second reason for my lack of posting is that for about a week, I forgot to take my anti-depressant. Now, I knew that I needed to take it. I just forgot that I hadn't taken it. It's kind of a strange thing. I suppose that subconsciously, I had decided to get off it for a while to see what happened, but I really hadn't planned that.
The result. I HAVE NOT BEEN ME for the last two weeks. I am not my normal, laid-back self. I am quick to anger at everything (including my partner for no good reason). My pen (that I had not told Julie was one that I wanted exclusively) came up missing. I got angry. Someone didn't give me enough information. I got angry. No one would answer me on the two-way radio at work one night. I got REALLY angry. Fortunately, my love has been very patient with me and sometimes interceeds at work. She knows that when I get really angry I start to cry and she doesn't want that to happen there. She also knows that this is not the real me.
So, I am back on my meds and I am starting to feel more like myself every day. I have also learned that as much as I would like to NOT have to take my meds, I still need them very much. And hopefully, I will be back to regular blogging soon. You still have not met all my kids, and it's about time.
My absence from posting has been twofold.
The first reason is that I (actually we) have been very busy; Remodeling, working, riding bike, holding the couch down, etc.
We are actually done with the remodel and have been enjoying it for about three weeks now. The next room to be done is close on the horizon. We have the bug and will not be able to stop until the entire house has been transformed from that of an 80 year old woman (complete with long beige draperies and paneling) to OURS.
Work has been hellish. It's quarter end, you know. It has been busy and ugly and I have a boss that doesn't do much. I have another boss who has been pusing me to apply for a high stress opening dealing with international shipping. So, I submitted a resume and cover letter for this job and then withdrew it because I just didn't want the job. I also have a couple of people that I have to babysit on a nightly basis because they are too immature to handle themselves in a full time work situation. All that makes for one UNHAPPY girl.
I got my tax return from good old Uncle Sam. I also have carpal tunnel. I love to ride my bike, but the carpal tunnel makes it difficult and painful to ride a regular bicycle. So, put one and one together.
Extra moola in hand + sore hands riding an upright bike =
the decision to buy a recumbent.
I found a nice one and bought it a week later. So we have been spending as much time as possible on the bikes.
The second reason for my lack of posting is that for about a week, I forgot to take my anti-depressant. Now, I knew that I needed to take it. I just forgot that I hadn't taken it. It's kind of a strange thing. I suppose that subconsciously, I had decided to get off it for a while to see what happened, but I really hadn't planned that.
The result. I HAVE NOT BEEN ME for the last two weeks. I am not my normal, laid-back self. I am quick to anger at everything (including my partner for no good reason). My pen (that I had not told Julie was one that I wanted exclusively) came up missing. I got angry. Someone didn't give me enough information. I got angry. No one would answer me on the two-way radio at work one night. I got REALLY angry. Fortunately, my love has been very patient with me and sometimes interceeds at work. She knows that when I get really angry I start to cry and she doesn't want that to happen there. She also knows that this is not the real me.
So, I am back on my meds and I am starting to feel more like myself every day. I have also learned that as much as I would like to NOT have to take my meds, I still need them very much. And hopefully, I will be back to regular blogging soon. You still have not met all my kids, and it's about time.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
SKUNKED!
Last night when we arrived home from work, we pulled into the garage and before we opened the car doors our noses were accosted by the smell of skunk. We were thinking that maybe there was a skunk nearby. We opened the car doors and the smell was overwhelming. It nauseated me. . . and it takes quite a bit to do that to me.
We got out of the car and headed towards the house. The dogs were excited to see us as always. We both bent down and smelled them. The scent of skunk spray at very close range is much different from the odor that stays in the air. . . so different that we did not realize that they had been sprayed until we got them in the house and the whole house smelled of skunk (the kind that is more familiar).
So we kicked them back out of the house and locked them in their kennel for the night.
We awakened this morning hoping that it was all an ugly nightmare, but opened the door to outside this morning and our hopes were crushed. So for the last couple of hours we have spent time changing the straw bedding in the kennel, airing out the garage and bathing the dogs. We tried vinegar, orange pulp, Sprite, some "miracle" stuff that is supposed to take care of skunk smell and buckets of shampoo (dog and human) and now they are wet and smell like a mix of wet dog and skunk. Alas. We will smell skunk for the next week or so, I am sure.
We got out of the car and headed towards the house. The dogs were excited to see us as always. We both bent down and smelled them. The scent of skunk spray at very close range is much different from the odor that stays in the air. . . so different that we did not realize that they had been sprayed until we got them in the house and the whole house smelled of skunk (the kind that is more familiar).
So we kicked them back out of the house and locked them in their kennel for the night.
We awakened this morning hoping that it was all an ugly nightmare, but opened the door to outside this morning and our hopes were crushed. So for the last couple of hours we have spent time changing the straw bedding in the kennel, airing out the garage and bathing the dogs. We tried vinegar, orange pulp, Sprite, some "miracle" stuff that is supposed to take care of skunk smell and buckets of shampoo (dog and human) and now they are wet and smell like a mix of wet dog and skunk. Alas. We will smell skunk for the next week or so, I am sure.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Walk
Today my love and I took a walk with our dogs. We chose to go to a local park that is very close to a plot of land owned by the University of Illinois that is used by its forestry students. It is open to the public and is mostly fenced in, so the better behaved of our dogs, Emma, is able to be off leash and gets to run and sniff and play.
We had walked in through the gate and had gone to the western most perimeter and were headed south along a plowed field. About a quarter of the way through, I saw a hawk fly up out of the field and land on the fence. We walked a little further and I saw the hawk struggling against the fence and it appeared that he may have been caught. He got himself free and flopped around on the ground for a little while. He looked like he might have been hurt. I took the opportunity to get Emma back on her leash because she was quite interested in what was going on ahead and I didn't want her to hurt the hawk or vice versa.
I handed Emma's leash to Julie and I slowly approached the hawk. He was calming down some as I took careful and measured steps towards him. I got down on one knee and held my hand out. The hawk backed up a little bit, but did not attempt to flee. I got so close to this hawk that I was able to touch it on it's neck. It was amazing. This was not a huge bird, but he was big enough. He had bright golden eyes that showed his intelligence. He had been banded by somone at some point in time. He had a white breast and a light reddish brown back. The white on his breast was ticked with brown. I believe that this was a red tailed hawk, but I can't be certain. I stood close to him for what seemed like about 2 or 3 minutes.
I TOUCHED A WILD HAWK. It was a highlight to my day, my week, my year and my life. I have been close to captive raptors before, but never close to a wild one. It was amazing and I will never forget that moment.
Julie was attempting to call the U of I wild animal hospital, when the hawk flew up into a tree. Then, as if to prove to us that we were wrong and he was ok, he flew from tree to tree. He faltered a little on the second roost, but seemed to be ok after that.
Native American spirituality says that seeing a hawk or an eagle means that you will encounter good fortune. I touched it. I wonder what that means?
We had walked in through the gate and had gone to the western most perimeter and were headed south along a plowed field. About a quarter of the way through, I saw a hawk fly up out of the field and land on the fence. We walked a little further and I saw the hawk struggling against the fence and it appeared that he may have been caught. He got himself free and flopped around on the ground for a little while. He looked like he might have been hurt. I took the opportunity to get Emma back on her leash because she was quite interested in what was going on ahead and I didn't want her to hurt the hawk or vice versa.
I handed Emma's leash to Julie and I slowly approached the hawk. He was calming down some as I took careful and measured steps towards him. I got down on one knee and held my hand out. The hawk backed up a little bit, but did not attempt to flee. I got so close to this hawk that I was able to touch it on it's neck. It was amazing. This was not a huge bird, but he was big enough. He had bright golden eyes that showed his intelligence. He had been banded by somone at some point in time. He had a white breast and a light reddish brown back. The white on his breast was ticked with brown. I believe that this was a red tailed hawk, but I can't be certain. I stood close to him for what seemed like about 2 or 3 minutes.
I TOUCHED A WILD HAWK. It was a highlight to my day, my week, my year and my life. I have been close to captive raptors before, but never close to a wild one. It was amazing and I will never forget that moment.
Julie was attempting to call the U of I wild animal hospital, when the hawk flew up into a tree. Then, as if to prove to us that we were wrong and he was ok, he flew from tree to tree. He faltered a little on the second roost, but seemed to be ok after that.
Native American spirituality says that seeing a hawk or an eagle means that you will encounter good fortune. I touched it. I wonder what that means?
Sunday, February 19, 2006
My own personal "L word"
I will preface this post by saying that ALL the names listed here have been changed to protect the innocent . . . or not so innocent, depending on how you view this.
I will also say that when I lived in Sioux Falls, SD, I spent a lot of time in the gay community. I knew that there was a lot of partner swapping had gone on, but was not aware of any that was currently going on. I also knew one of the "players" in town and nearly every woman I met had slept with her at one time or another.
I have an ex-girlfriend that I am fairly good friends with. Her name is "Diane". She lives in a fairly large city in Missouri. She knows people in this town (also of the lesbian bent). There are 2 couples. "Linda and Amber" and "Daisy and Stephanie". Currently Diane is living platonically with Stephanie. Linda and Amber do not live together and Daisy lives by herself. Daisy and Linda have been best friends for about 12 years.
Diane has been sleeping with Linda. . . f**k buddies, if you will. Diane and Stephanie have been talking and Stephanie told Diane that Linda has been hitting on her. Linda and Amber are basically "over" according to Linda, but Linda is afraid to tell Amber. Diane also found out from Stephanie that Amber has been sleeping with someone else on the side. It's all this ugly, convoluted mess.
Linda is actually angry that Amber is cheating on her. She is angry. To me that is very odd. She is angry at her partner for the same thing that she herself is guilty of. . . hmmmmm. And I thought that the L Word was a little over the top.
I will also say that when I lived in Sioux Falls, SD, I spent a lot of time in the gay community. I knew that there was a lot of partner swapping had gone on, but was not aware of any that was currently going on. I also knew one of the "players" in town and nearly every woman I met had slept with her at one time or another.
I have an ex-girlfriend that I am fairly good friends with. Her name is "Diane". She lives in a fairly large city in Missouri. She knows people in this town (also of the lesbian bent). There are 2 couples. "Linda and Amber" and "Daisy and Stephanie". Currently Diane is living platonically with Stephanie. Linda and Amber do not live together and Daisy lives by herself. Daisy and Linda have been best friends for about 12 years.
Diane has been sleeping with Linda. . . f**k buddies, if you will. Diane and Stephanie have been talking and Stephanie told Diane that Linda has been hitting on her. Linda and Amber are basically "over" according to Linda, but Linda is afraid to tell Amber. Diane also found out from Stephanie that Amber has been sleeping with someone else on the side. It's all this ugly, convoluted mess.
Linda is actually angry that Amber is cheating on her. She is angry. To me that is very odd. She is angry at her partner for the same thing that she herself is guilty of. . . hmmmmm. And I thought that the L Word was a little over the top.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Out of the Mouths of Strangers
My partner and I have had some wonderful experiences of late with strangers in public places. This has been especially good for Julie who tends to get scared of people in public. It has also shown me the humor in everyday life.
The first instance that we can both laugh about happened in our local Blockbuster on a late Saturday morning. We had made our decisions on what movies we were going to bring home and were on our way through the checkout. There was a man in front of us carousing the bagged candy and sodas that are there to entice us all to make poor diet decisions and cause the people with children to have to say "NO" a zillion times. He had picked out a bag of M&M's and a couple of Dasani flavored waters. We did not hear what ensued, but the man was at the checkout and turned around, walked past us and put the food items back. Whether he did not have the dough to pay for them or he discovered that he owed on late fees for movies, we don't know. However, what he said to us while he was putting the items back was great. He said "I didn't need this stuff anyway. . . thong season is just around the corner".
The next instance happened early this morning (after work) at a grocery store that we frequent. We walked in and saw an abundance of unsold Valentine's day balloons and roses. We went through and got what we had gone in there for and walked up to the checkout. As we were walking up we see a very large (think a mountain of a man) county police officer. The guy was easily 6'2" and probably topped the scale at well over 250. He had in one hand one of the unsold balloons and in the other a bouquet of red roses. I walked up smiling and said to him, "It's too late, Valentines day is over". He responded, "Oh no, I am trying to make up for having to work tonight. I am armed, and I'm scared". He continued on, "She's a little thing, but she'll cut me". We laughed, he paid his bill and as he was leaving he said "These flowers will look good on my gravesite, that's really why I got them".
We laughed all the way home.
The first instance that we can both laugh about happened in our local Blockbuster on a late Saturday morning. We had made our decisions on what movies we were going to bring home and were on our way through the checkout. There was a man in front of us carousing the bagged candy and sodas that are there to entice us all to make poor diet decisions and cause the people with children to have to say "NO" a zillion times. He had picked out a bag of M&M's and a couple of Dasani flavored waters. We did not hear what ensued, but the man was at the checkout and turned around, walked past us and put the food items back. Whether he did not have the dough to pay for them or he discovered that he owed on late fees for movies, we don't know. However, what he said to us while he was putting the items back was great. He said "I didn't need this stuff anyway. . . thong season is just around the corner".
The next instance happened early this morning (after work) at a grocery store that we frequent. We walked in and saw an abundance of unsold Valentine's day balloons and roses. We went through and got what we had gone in there for and walked up to the checkout. As we were walking up we see a very large (think a mountain of a man) county police officer. The guy was easily 6'2" and probably topped the scale at well over 250. He had in one hand one of the unsold balloons and in the other a bouquet of red roses. I walked up smiling and said to him, "It's too late, Valentines day is over". He responded, "Oh no, I am trying to make up for having to work tonight. I am armed, and I'm scared". He continued on, "She's a little thing, but she'll cut me". We laughed, he paid his bill and as he was leaving he said "These flowers will look good on my gravesite, that's really why I got them".
We laughed all the way home.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Haircut
I got my hair cut yesterday. Not just cut, shaved. It is less than an eighth of an inch long. You can see all manner of bumps and blemishes on my skull.
Brrr. I'm cold!
Brrr. I'm cold!
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Mishap
We are in the process of remodeling our living room. We are going to be painting, putting up new window treatments and having bamboo flooring layed. We are currently in the process of deconstruction of the room. We have moved all the furniture out with the exception of my computer, desk and a bookshelf.
I was working on clearing out my desk to get it ready to move, and I decided that I was going to clear out my old paycheck stubs. I pulled them all out and started shredding them. I shredded for a long time. My shredder overheated. I also was thinking that I was going to be extra safe and burn the shredded stubs. One of my former employers had my entire SSN on the check along with my checking account number.
I took the garbage bag out to the neighbor's burn pile and lit it on fire. I also decided that while I was there and had a fire lit, I was going to burn our Christmas tree. So, I went and grabbed the tree and threw it on the flame. I picked up the tree and adjusted it so that it would burn more completely. Just as I picked the flaming tree up, the wind switched. I felt the warmth of the flames lick my face and I thought that I probably singed my eyebrows, but I didn't smell the tell tale odor of burned hair. I finished watching the tree burn and went into the house.
I went immediately to the bathroom and looked at my face. Both eyebrows, my eyelashes on my right eye and some of my hair were singed and curled. Then, I smelled the burned hair. ACKKK. Fortunately, they were not completely singed, but it was enough for me to think about doing that again. And no pictures were taken.
I was working on clearing out my desk to get it ready to move, and I decided that I was going to clear out my old paycheck stubs. I pulled them all out and started shredding them. I shredded for a long time. My shredder overheated. I also was thinking that I was going to be extra safe and burn the shredded stubs. One of my former employers had my entire SSN on the check along with my checking account number.
I took the garbage bag out to the neighbor's burn pile and lit it on fire. I also decided that while I was there and had a fire lit, I was going to burn our Christmas tree. So, I went and grabbed the tree and threw it on the flame. I picked up the tree and adjusted it so that it would burn more completely. Just as I picked the flaming tree up, the wind switched. I felt the warmth of the flames lick my face and I thought that I probably singed my eyebrows, but I didn't smell the tell tale odor of burned hair. I finished watching the tree burn and went into the house.
I went immediately to the bathroom and looked at my face. Both eyebrows, my eyelashes on my right eye and some of my hair were singed and curled. Then, I smelled the burned hair. ACKKK. Fortunately, they were not completely singed, but it was enough for me to think about doing that again. And no pictures were taken.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Contradiction #2
Now, I don't have a problem with women who don't shave. I also don't have a problem with women who pluck their eyebrows. I love women! I LOVE WOMEN!
Eyebrows plucked to a thin line are not an issue, nor are hairy legs and armpits. Neither of them are what I would choose to do. I am also not turned on by them (women with hairy legs don't do much for me), but that's their thing. Nary a problem for me. I shave (occaisionally in the winter and frequently in the summer) because I have an unusually high level of testosterone and after a month or so, I begin to resemble my brother even more than I currently do. I also pluck a little, just to keep the unibrow gone. My partner does not need to do either, she has no hair on her legs and her eyebrows are so light colored that you can't even tell they are there.
All that said, there is a woman here in town who has her eyebrows plucked to a fine, pencil line. They are so thin that I noticed it immediately, the first time I met her. It was summer and she had shorts on. I also noticed that she did not shave her legs (not sure on her armpits). What's the point? It takes a hell of a lot less time to shave than to pluck, we're talkin 5 minutes in the shower once or twice a week, whereas, plucking to that extent HAS to take much more time than that on a DAILY basis.
So that's the second contradiction that I have observed in my life. . .
What's that about????
Eyebrows plucked to a thin line are not an issue, nor are hairy legs and armpits. Neither of them are what I would choose to do. I am also not turned on by them (women with hairy legs don't do much for me), but that's their thing. Nary a problem for me. I shave (occaisionally in the winter and frequently in the summer) because I have an unusually high level of testosterone and after a month or so, I begin to resemble my brother even more than I currently do. I also pluck a little, just to keep the unibrow gone. My partner does not need to do either, she has no hair on her legs and her eyebrows are so light colored that you can't even tell they are there.
All that said, there is a woman here in town who has her eyebrows plucked to a fine, pencil line. They are so thin that I noticed it immediately, the first time I met her. It was summer and she had shorts on. I also noticed that she did not shave her legs (not sure on her armpits). What's the point? It takes a hell of a lot less time to shave than to pluck, we're talkin 5 minutes in the shower once or twice a week, whereas, plucking to that extent HAS to take much more time than that on a DAILY basis.
So that's the second contradiction that I have observed in my life. . .
What's that about????
Friday, January 20, 2006
Meet the kids #2
This is Gus. Gus is our second youngest. He has a sister named Cleo (you will meet her next). Gus is a big boy. He also thinks that he is a dog. He loves dog treats and will chase them down the basement steps. Like I mentioned, he and Isaac are best buddies. They can often be found sleeping, curled up together on the couch or on one of the dog beds. Gus and Isaac often chase each other around on the cat condo and wrestle with reckless abandon on the floor. Gus has also been known to curl up to the dogs and try and sleep (this usually ends with a growl and the dog moving).
Gus also came from a rescue. I had always wanted an orange tabby (I had had some as a child and thought that they were the coolest cats) and so when my older cats, Smokey, Chick and Spunky died, it was time to get a kitten. I also knew that it was going to be a male and his name would be Gus.
When it was time, we checked out a couple of places like the county humane society and a rescue here in town. We were always overwhelmed by the number of cats and wanted to bring them all home with us, so we could never pick one out that would fit in our household. We then found an ad in the paper that said that they had 6 kittens and had some orange ones. We called and asked about them. This is how we met Jamie. Jamie runs the "Ray of Hope Cat Rescue". Jamie has 20 cats of her own and has made it her mission in life to save as many cats as she can. Well, we went to see these kittens, they were nearly feral when she found them, and were still a bit skittish. Fortunately Gus was what we wanted, but my sweet partner had ideas that Gus shouldn't be alone. So we also ended up with Cleo. This also forged our relationship with Jamie and her rescue operation (and got us hooked up with Isaac).
So that is the story of Gus. He is a source of constant laughs and our most photogenic child.
Gus also came from a rescue. I had always wanted an orange tabby (I had had some as a child and thought that they were the coolest cats) and so when my older cats, Smokey, Chick and Spunky died, it was time to get a kitten. I also knew that it was going to be a male and his name would be Gus.
When it was time, we checked out a couple of places like the county humane society and a rescue here in town. We were always overwhelmed by the number of cats and wanted to bring them all home with us, so we could never pick one out that would fit in our household. We then found an ad in the paper that said that they had 6 kittens and had some orange ones. We called and asked about them. This is how we met Jamie. Jamie runs the "Ray of Hope Cat Rescue". Jamie has 20 cats of her own and has made it her mission in life to save as many cats as she can. Well, we went to see these kittens, they were nearly feral when she found them, and were still a bit skittish. Fortunately Gus was what we wanted, but my sweet partner had ideas that Gus shouldn't be alone. So we also ended up with Cleo. This also forged our relationship with Jamie and her rescue operation (and got us hooked up with Isaac).
So that is the story of Gus. He is a source of constant laughs and our most photogenic child.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Meet the kids #1
As my profile mentions, we have an entire menagerie of critters. I thought that you may like to meet them.
This is Isaac. He is our youngest furry child. He is the clown of the house, mostly because he is still a kitten. He is currently 9 months old and is the sweetest little (well, not really little anymore) kitty. Isaac came to our house as a tiny kitten. He came from the rescue that we have got Gus and Cleo from. The woman who runs the rescue knows how to get us. . .just send a picture of a cute little kitten and we will come running. She's no dummy.
Isaac is best buds with Gus (who you will meet later) and thinks that the dogs are just very large cats who are overly protective of their treats. He also thinks that Pogo's tail is his very own animated cat toy.
This is Isaac. He is our youngest furry child. He is the clown of the house, mostly because he is still a kitten. He is currently 9 months old and is the sweetest little (well, not really little anymore) kitty. Isaac came to our house as a tiny kitten. He came from the rescue that we have got Gus and Cleo from. The woman who runs the rescue knows how to get us. . .just send a picture of a cute little kitten and we will come running. She's no dummy.
Isaac is best buds with Gus (who you will meet later) and thinks that the dogs are just very large cats who are overly protective of their treats. He also thinks that Pogo's tail is his very own animated cat toy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
