You Want To Know How I Am?

I am on a personal mission to make people think before using the standard, "How are you?" greeting, which (to me) sounds more and more like fingernails on a chalkboard. Talk about over-used! It's thrown out there time after time, day after day and (quite frankly) I'm sick of it! You know and I know that the individual asking probably doesn't give a rodents rectum how anybody is. And don't you think it's a rather intimate question to be asking a total stranger, anyway? What if (God forbid) everybody decided to give honest answers? Nobody really wants to know how you are, so why the Hell are they asking??? My pet "How are you" peeve has to do with the dumbass who doesn't know when to quit asking! (we've all had this happen) You meet someone in the hallway, they say, "How are you?" to which you reply, "Fine. How are you?" (then it happens) they say, "I'm fine. You?" Theoretically, that conversation could go on forever.

On a recent trip to the grocery store I was minding my own business in the canned vegetable isle, when Ms Grocery Store Manager came marching toward me with another shopper in tow. I knew it was coming, the same conversation (only conversation) I've had with that woman a hundred times. "How are you?", she asked. I cordially replied, "Fine." She stopped about five feet from where I was standing and helped the other shopper find something, all of which took about three seconds. As Ms Manager marched back by me it happened...the SECOND "How are you?" A chill ran up my spine as the fingernails slid down the board. In my mind I had her by the throat and was slamming the back of her head into the canned peas as I shouted, "Why didn't you pay attention the first time! Stop making me repeat myself!" Actually, I just gave the same cordial, "Fine," and waited for her to get out of ear-shot then added, "...you stupid bitch!"

I've been thinking that we should have some responses at the ready for these "double askers." The responses that I came up with fall into three basic categories, 1. Smart-Ass Reply (the one we all know and love) 2. TMI Reply (give them too much information, because they wanted to know SO badly they asked you twice) 3. Scary/Crazy Reply (this one is designed to make them think twice before asking the first time)

1.Smart-Ass Reply (while not very funny these are great to use in a hurry)

• "My! Don't we have a short memory?"

• "Is there an echo in here...in here...in here..."

• "Get off my back!"

• "I'm better than nothing, but I hear you're not!"

2.TMI Reply (makes everyone uncomfortable and that's always fun)

• "I'm hopeful that, once I get the wart removed, he'll love me again."

• (wiggle around and scratch a bit) "I'm uncomfortable. They're really bad this time of year."

• In a whisper: "I'm terrified to make any sudden moves. The squirts. Like water only dark and smelly." (pretend to nervously suppress cough)

• "I'm SO excited! The hubby just got one of those 'implant' things..."

3.Scary/Crazy Reply (requires a little acting ability and should only be used on strangers)

• "The voices are telling me that I'm ok. Why? What are they telling you?"

• "I'm pissed! My lawyer just told me there's no way he can convince a jury that the axe slipped out of my hand over and over and over..."

• "Well, my dog says that I'm a lot more fun since I'm not on my medication."

• "Actually, I'm hungry. Did you know that human flesh tastes like chicken?"

How am I? Well, since you asked...

You Can't Get There From Here

I was walking through the parking lot at my workplace the other day when a car pulled up next to me and stopped. Behind the wheel was an older gentleman. When I say, "older" I don't mean an OLD man, just older. We exchanged the usual pleasantries before he asked if I could tell him where the Tags Office is located. (for those of you who don't live in the south, the "Tags Office" is where we go to purchase the little stickers that affix to our license plates) Well, as a frequent visitor of the Tags Office, giving those directions would be a piece of cake...or so I thought. The interaction went something like this:

Me: "Yes. Just go back out to this road, take a right and when you come to the third stoplight take another right then an immediate left..."

Older Gentleman: (shaking his head) "That man he give me crazy directions. Crazy! He tell me to come down here. Ok. I come to the first stoplight then what?"

Me: "You just go straight. The second stoplight is sort of a main intersection where the liquor store is..."

OG: "Oh, the Tags Office is up town! I need to go up town!"

Me: "No. You would have to turn at the second light to go up town, but you don't want to turn at that light. You don't turn until you get to the third light. At the third light make a right and then a left. There's a restaurant there and...oh...I can't think of the name of it."

OG: "BB&T?"

(BB&T is a bank) A feeling of helpless frustration began creeping over me.

Me: "No."

From the passenger seat the man produced a flier with a large, shiny picture of a vehicle license plate and said, "This is what I'm looking for." He turned the flier over, pointed to an advertisement on the back then added, "Nationwide Insurance!"

At that point I knew life was just not being fair to this nice man.

Me: "Do you want to buy a sticker for your car?"

OG: "Yep! That's what I want."

Me: "Ok. Go down here and turn right at the third stoplight then turn left. The Tags Office is in a little strip mall right next to Dollar Tree."

OG: "Dollar Tree? I know where Dollar Tree is! So, I go to Dollar Tree and go up the hill..."


Me: "Well, you just go to Dollar Tree, park your car in the parking lot out front and you will find the Tags Office right next door."

OG: "Thank you, Mame. You have a nice day."

With a heavy heart, I watched him drive away and I wondered if he would find the Tags Office, Dollar Tree or even the third stop light. I pictured him in another part of town, telling yet another stranger, "That women she give me crazy directions. Crazy!"

Is That A Shotgun Sticking Out Of Your Trench Coat Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

This post is dedicated to store owners, Bob and Jean. Two Of my favorite people.

It was December 27, 1997 and I was way late for work at my second job in the local Mom and Pops convenience store. I normally went in at 1:00 on Saturdays, but I had a funeral to attend (in the rain) so, it was 5:00 PM when I arrived. Should have waited till 7:00.

Let me paint a little picture of the lay-out of the store. Two cash registers side by side facing the back of the store. To the right of the register on the right is a counter and vice versa. In other words, if you're standing facing a register your back is to the door. That is how Carrol and I were standing on that cold, rainy, one customer in the whole damn store night. I was on the right and Carrol was on the left.

Around 6:15 my partner had just fixed himself what must have been one Hell of a sandwich and we were standing there chatting while he was devouring his creation.That's when I heard the telltale "squeak" of the door. (apparently a sound that Carrol did not detect, because he was eating and talking) Anyway, I turned my head to greet whoever was entering, but all I could see was a black trench coat opening up and the barrel of a .410 shotgun being raised to point at me. Immediately, the accomplice of Mr. Trench Coat scurried around to my side of the counter, waving two pistols at me. Well, my mama didn't raise no fool. I was quick to figure out that this was a stick up! At the same time I'm thinking, Two pistols? Really? Isn't that over-kill? Do ya think if you only had one I would balk and say, "Oh, Hell no, Mr. One Pistol, you're not gettin' a penny from this old girl. If you had TWO pistols...now THAT would be a different story!"

Believe it or not, I actually had the presence of mind to remember how to open the cash register and I did just that! Then, without even being told, I began to extract money from said register, beginning with the 20's and working my way down to the smaller, less desirable bills. Two Pistols had to lay one pistol on the counter in order to free up a hand to take money from me. Money that I just couldn't wait to give him!


Somewhere in all of this, with my left eye I caught a glimpse of Mike (our only non-gun-wielding customer) walk up to Carrol's side of the counter and then quickly retreat to the back of the store. (guess Mike's mama didn't raise no fool, either)

About the time I was digging the 5's out of the drawer, I heard a sound. It was the sound of words being filtered through bread and other sandwich material. For God's sake! Carrol was still eating that damn sandwich and talking to me, completely oblivious to the fact that we were being robbed at gunpoint!

So, after handing Two Pistols the less desirable one dollar bills, I stepped behind Carrol and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and (I swear this is the truth) said, "What's goin' on?" (I'm guessing this is where he FINALLY put the sandwich down) Well, upon noticing a man standing there pointing a gun at his head, Carrol began doing what I had just done, emptying a cash register. He started with the less desirable one dollar bills, but something tells me that Two Pistols didn't even notice.

At some point, while Carrol was handing over cash, I noticed that Two Pistols was having a hard time cramming all that cash into his pockets. So, being the customer-oriented girl that I am, I asked him if he wanted a bag. He didn't, but (being the customer-oriented girl that I am) I wasn't taking "No" for an answer. I asked again. He still didn't want a bag, but at least I tried. In retrospect, I suppose he may have thought that I could be the second Annie Oakley and that maybe there was a gun hidden down there where the bags were kept. Actually there was a sawed-off shotgun down there, but that was the farthest thing from my mind. The ONLY thing that interested me was getting them out of the store without Carrol or myself having to eat any lead. Besides, I'm pretty sure Carrol was already was already full from his sandwich.

Under the watchful eye of Mr. Trench Coat, who was still poised at the door behind us with his trusty .410, my partner handed the last stack of bills over to Two Pistols. Then came the moment that I'd been anxiously waiting for...the bad-boy gun-slingers exited the store, without firing off a single round.

This is where Carrol redeemed himself for the sandwich eating and talking during the entire first half of the robbery. As I was hitting the floor and grabbing the phone from under the counter, he snatched a pistol out of a drawer and headed out the door. I remember saying to the 911 operator, "We've just been robbed and there are shots being fired in the parking lot!" That's the only part of the conversation that I can recall, because I was completely consumed with terror and had no idea what was actually transpiring in the parking lot. I know that I was sure relieved when Carrol came back through the door bearing not a single bullet wound.

It seems that, with Carrol firing over their heads the bad boys didn't want to take time to stop and climb into the getaway car, so they just ran right past it and disappeared into the woods. The female driver of the car took off down the road. I suppose she thought the boys would come back out to the highway and that's why she turned around and came back, but upon seeing Carrol out by the road (pistol in hand) she decided that was a bad idea after all. In an attempt to make a quick turn around she pulled into the path of another driver and got T-boned, which disabled her stolen ride. At that point the woods on the other side of the road looked pretty good to her.

The long and short of it is: the girl was apprehended about an hour later and claimed she had no idea that the guys were going to rob the store and she didn't know that the car was stolen. (in her defense, my friends and I always carry our shotguns when we shop in convenience stores...never know when a game bird might fly off a shelf... and it's not unusual for us to drive cars with screwdrivers sticking out of the ignitions, because we tend to loose our keys) Mr. Trench Coat and Two Pistols were arrested several days later. They all were convicted, served time and have since been released.

I had only been working at the store for three months when we were robbed. The next day I showed up for work again and did the same for the next nine years. Did I really say, "My mama didn't raise no fool"???

Make Lentil Sprouts, Because I Said So!

Not only because I said so, but because they are: loaded with nutrients, easy to make, absolutely delicious and cheap, cheap, cheap! (I'm all about cheap) Besides, you probably already have everything you need to make the sprouts in your house. If you don't have any dried lentils go to the store and get a bag. Yes, they are in the dried bean section. Go ahead. I'll wait.

You're back! Great! Now, we're going to call this: "Lentil Sprouts 101" or "Sprouting For Idiots". Personally, I like the latter and you can learn from the Master Idiot. Don't be afraid. Just dive into that bag of little legumes. But first, let me tell you why you should sprout rather than just cook the lentils. Sprouting actually ups the nutritional value and makes them so much better for you. They become a wealth of amino acids, B vitamins and a bunch of other stuff too numerous to mention. (or stuff that I can't remember) Don't expect me to explain how sprouting changes the make up of the lentil, because (quite frankly) I'm not intelligent enough to explain it and I would just have to plagiarize someone else's writing and I am not about plagiarism. So, you'll just have to trust me on this one.

You will need: a quart canning jar (I prefer large mouth), a ring to fit the jar, 1/2 cup lentils and some clean fabric large enough to cover the jar top and thin enough to be able to screw the ring onto the jar. Some use cheesecloth, but I use panty hose. Water has to be able to pass through the cloth and it is important that air can circulate during the sprouting process. NEVER,NEVER, NEVER use any peas, beans or legumes that have been packaged for planting, because they may have been coated with an agent to make them germinate. I should mention that kidney bean sprouts, tomato seed sprouts and potato sprouts are all POISONOUS! In other words: don't sprout 'em and don't eat 'em.

Measure out 1/2 cup of lentils and sort through carefully, removing any that are broken or chipped, as they will not sprout. Instead, they will rot, compromising the quality of your finished product. Let's face it...nobody wants to eat rot!

Dump the lentils into the jar, put the cloth over the top and secure with the jar ring or rubber band. WOW! What a relief! The hard part is OVER!

Run some cool water right through the cloth onto the lentils to wash them, drain and repeat about three times. The only thing better than having clean lentils is having clean hands...I always say. Now, run warm water (never hot) into the jar. Pretty much filling the jar just so you know you have ample water for the lentils to soak up. Let those tiny discs sit there and soak for 8-10 hours.

Drain off the "soaking" water and rinse with cool water a couple of times. Drain off the rinse water and find a nice dark spot to keep the jar or jars. I keep mine in a spare bedroom, which doesn't get much light and I cover them with a dark bath towel. Make sure that the jar is tipped at an angle to allow excess water to drain. A dish drainer provides a handy "jar-propping" place. I set mine on a tray to catch any water that may drain out. Let the sprouting begin!

Just rinse with cool water and drain, every morning and evening. Be gentle as to not break off any of the tender shoots. On the third day you should have sprouts that are about 3/4 inch long. PERFECTO! (that's Spanish for perfect) Add cool water to the jar and let the sprouts get all charged up with a good drink. Let them soak for a couple of minutes before draining in a strainer. Put a paper towel in the bottom of whatever container you'll be storing your delectable little goodies in. Dump the well drained sprouts on top of the paper towel and store in the refrigerator. They easily keep for a week, but after three days you should rinse and place on a fresh paper towel.

Just look at what a half cup of lentils will produce! Check out the fancy crystal bowl, because that's how we roll here at the Half-Assed Acres Ranch! Now, make yourself a big ol' salad and scatter a bunch of these little goodies over the top. It'll make your tongue slap the roof of your mouth and beg for more!

If you're going to use them in soup or stew, add them during the last 5 minutes of cooking time, cause you don't want to cook them to death. I don't recommend just cooking them in water and draining the water off, because you're going to dump some of the nutrients down the drain.

I'll bet (with a little imagination) you could blend up some sprouts in your food processor, mix with some plain yogurt or soft cream cheese, throw in a few spices and have a tasty dip or sandwich/wrap spread. I haven't tried that yet, but when I do I'll let you know.

Feel free to post any comments or questions, as long as you don't criticize, because I don't handle criticism well and I hold a grudge forever!

Look! I Married Oliver Wendall Douglas!

"Faaaaaarrrm livin' is the life for me."

One day, as I was passing my house, I looked over and there he was going down through the front pasture on our 46 year old tractor. Immediately, I was struck with the image of Mr. Douglas. Even though Oliver's tractor was always referred to as a Hoyt-Clagwell, it actually was (just like ours) a Ford! When I found that out, it gave me CHILLS! (not really...I'm just being dramatic) Now, besides the tractor, The Horseman and Oliver Douglas both have the silver tresses goin' on and my husband has actually been to New York city! It is true that you're not likely to see him bush-hog in a three piece suit and "lawyer " is a term that you will never see on his resume, but (is it just me) or are the similarities uncanny? In fact, I'm quite sure that he would be likely to utter the words, "You can keep Manhattan. Just give me that country-side."

I'm a far stretch from Lisa Douglas and I'm sure my Mr. Douglas is glad of that. (although I suppose he'd be pretty happy if I looked like her) There is one common thread I share with Lisa in that I, too, get allergic smelling hay! Truth be known, I am probably more likely to be compared with (farmhand) Eb Dawson than Lisa.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go outside, climb the telephone pole and make a call.

Shout- Out

I just have to give a big ol' shout-out to a couple of local writers. First is poet Jonathan Bolick, whose book, "Diamonds From Coal" I purchased last month. Loved it! I will order his latest soon. To read some of Jonathan's work go to: www.boloworks.com . I found out about Jonathan from my friend Gina. It's kind of funny how I recently told Gina that I like to write poetry, but I don't like reading poetry, (yes I am an oddball) but I sure enjoyed Jonathan's work.

Last, but not least, is Carolyn Steele Agosta. I work with Carolyn's sister Jacki, who directed me to her website: www.carolynagosta.com . When you go to Carolyn's site click on , "Links to published stories" which is on the left. That will bring up many great short stories, but the one I want you to read first is, "Another Weekend With Suzie".

I wouldn't recommend them if I didn't think they were wonderful....so, check 'em out!

Kick-Ass Computer, Sprouts And Deals

Well, here I sit (grinnin' like a possum) at my new, kick-ass computer! Which, by the way, happens to have 160 gigs of hard drive, 2 gigs ram, a CD burner and a four-fifty-four with a four-on-the-floor! The Computer Guru really out did himself and got back in my good graces. (looks like his name may reappear in my will) I could hardly wait to get home from work to hook this baby up. The laws of nature and my own bad karma prohibit me from ever having things go as planned. So, I had to make a trip to Wal-Mart to buy a new mouse, but that's ok I'm still grinnin'.

I'm so pleased with myself, because I started two different batches of sprouts yesterday. (green pea and soy) Those are new to me. The only thing I've done before were lentil sprouts. Now there's some fine eatin'. Sprouts are really good for you and here's the best part.....they're super cheap to make!

Speaking of cheap, (by the way "Cheap" is my middle name) I went to the grocery store yesterday with some coupons and hit pay dirt. Sugar was on sale for 99 cents, had a 30 cent coupon which was doubled. HOLY CRAP....four pounds of sugar for 39 cents! Oops...I peed myself a little. When I came to the French's mustard and realized that I could get a 14 oz. bottle for 20 cents, I could barely conceal my excitement! Then came the best part...they actually had to pay ME to take a 12 oz. bottle of French's spicy brown off their hands! YIPPIE-FRICKIN'-I-O! I was lovin' life!

In case you didn't notice, I'm in a much better mood than I was when I put up my last post and you may be wondering if I had to tell anyone to go to Hell. I did not, but there were a few close calls. The mental illness is on the back burner for now, but it's still simmering.

In A Bad Place

Have you ever been mad at the world and not quite sure why? That's where I am right now, but in a way I know why. In a nutshell....taxes and people who don't understand how income tax works. Anyway, that's what got the ball rolling and at the moment I can think of several people who have irritated me in the past few weeks, who I would just like to tell to go to Hell! Hopefully, that won't happen at work tomorrow, but there's always that possibility. Actually, there are some, who haven't even pissed me off yet, but I picture them doing just that and I picture myself....telling them to go to Hell. Oh, yes! I can feel the mental illness welling up in my throat!

There should be a good place to go when I'm in a bad place. (a bad place being the dark corners of my own mind) How about the doctors office, because my right knee is swelled up like a balloon? No. I guess not, because he would tell me to stay off from it for a few days. Bullshit! Does he have any clue how my life is?

On the "up" side....The Computer Guru has everything ordered for my new, kick-ass computer and I'm sooooo happy about that! I'm pretty sure that's the only saving grace that is keeping me from actually telling several people to go to Hell!

Wordless

His name was Paul, but I can't recall how I came to know his name. Maybe he wrote it on my order pad. Years after we met I learned his last name when I saw his picture in the paper. "Paul Whitesides", it said above his obituary. Sadness swept over me as I remembered many wordless conversations between Paul and myself. The only time actual words were involved was when one of us wrote something down on paper for the other one to read or when he pointed to whatever menu item he wanted.



Looking back on my conversations with Paul, I have to wonder just how ridiculous my awkward hand gestures must have seemed to him. I couldn't sign. Maybe he got the same feeling I get when I'm talking to someone who is just learning to speak English. He probably felt like I was butchering his native tongue.



Quite often I would flail my arms and pretend to be very irritated with him, which always produced a big grin. No telling what the other customers thought when I behaved that way.



Meeting Paul taught me that you don't need to verbalize to let people know that you like them and that you're genuinely happy to see them. Words are just words, sometimes empty and meaningless. Only our actions truly speak to other human beings, a language of their own.

Follow Your Mommy...Or Else!

Dear Son Computer Guru,

It pains me greatly that you seem unable to follow my blog, like your sister (AKA: Favorite Child) does. Yet you wonder why she is the favorite. Believe me when I tell you that this hurts me more than it hurts you... consider this formal notice of your removal from my will. Favorite Child should be very happy to know that instead of half of my estate, she now will get EVERYTHING! This brings her total inheritance to approximately $375.92. (before funeral expenses)

Should you decide to mend the error of your ways, and your little silhouette once again appears on my follower list, I may reinstate you as a beneficiary along with Favorite Child.

Sincerely Yours,
Mom

No "Me" Time!

This is the PITS! I have no time to blog right now...and haven't for a week straight. We're extending our barn, adding one stall and a covered outside area. As usual we're trying to make chicken salad out of....well lets just say...something less desirable than chicken breast. That's how we roll here at the Half-Assed Acres Ranch. Then again, that's how we built our rather large two stall existing barn for less that $3000.00.

Don't give up on me. Sometimes there just aren't enough hours in the day.

Snow Day!!!

In this part of the south our snows are few and far between. So, I was looking forward, with child-like anticipation, to last nights "winter blast." (that's what they keep calling it on the news, but being from Michigan I don't consider 4 to 6 inches of snow a winter blast) There was no point in setting the alarm for my normal 4:30 AM, because I knew (at the very least) we would be on a two hour delay.

Six 0'clock came and I rolled out of bed to turn on the news. There it was at the bottom of the screen, no school for students or staff, but that's still a gray area for us "Central Office" employees. We're normally expected to work even when teachers and other school personal have the day off due to inclement weather. At this point I'm not sure whether I should get ready for work or blow it off and build a snowman, which is what I really want to do.

When it got to be 7:00 and there was no recorded call from our superintendent, I was thinking I should just get ready for work, but the idea of a snowman in my front yard beckoned. What a dilemma. Work. Snowman. Work. Snowman. Then I had the bright idea of checking the phone for messages just in case T.H. had turned off the phone when I fell asleep on the couch last night. BINGO! There were two messages. First was one from Dr. M. in which he said that the central office would be closed today. Second message was sweet friend Renee telling me to stay home. Renee has somehow inherited the job of looking out for me and I'd like to know what she did to deserve that job. (must have been something pretty awful)

Snowman, here I come! After gathering up proper snowman attire, partially consisting of a red cowboy hat, red bandanna, red mittens and large blue buttons for eyes, (Who can resist a blue-eyed cowboy?) I headed to the barn to feed horses. On the way back to the house I reached my glove-clad hands down and scooped up some of that wonderful snowman material. WOE IS ME!!! Major disappointment! Too cold to pack! For a moment I contemplated doing what I used to do as a child, which was throwing myself to the ground in a temper tantrum, kicking and screaming. I somehow managed to squelch that urge.

At the moment I'm sitting here at the computer, behaving like an adult, anxiously waiting for the sun to warm the snow enough to become snowman friendly. However, if that does not happen, I can only hope that my neighbors are not watching when the temper tantrum occurs.

Melissa's Birthday Self-Pitty Party

With "the big 5-0" looming larger than ever for me, I am reminded of when my friend/co-worker Melissa (that's Moe to me) turned fifty. As usual I had to write a milestone birthday poem. The morning of Moe's birthday we initiated a little departmental meeting. I began with a preface story, telling everyone that Moe had called me (crying and rambling) very late the night before. Our boss stopped me and asked if she was drunk at the time. (we all know Melissa doesn't drink) I answered by saying, "Well, two things quickly became apparent: 1. She had been drinking & 2. She had been reading Dr. Seuss." That brought a chuckle from the group, because they knew I was about to rip-off Dr. Seuss. Then I proceeded to tell them what Melissa had to say:

I do not like this "getting old."
Those horror truths that I've been told
Of graying hair and aches and wrinkles.
The frequent urges to make tinkles.

I do not like this thing called "aging."
Escaping thoughts and hormones raging.
I do not like it one little bit
And no one even gives a darn!

Everything sags and appears quite shoddy.
What has happened to my body?!?
Without a recourse to defend
Seems gravity is not my friend.

Don't call me silly. Don't say that I'm whiny.
I'm having a crisis with a droopy hiney!!!
You might think it's funny; you may even snicker
As I drown all my sorrow in this bottle of liquor.

This really stinks! It is so unfair
That I just soiled my underwear.
This "50" thing has me stuck in a rut.
So Father Time can KISS MY BUTT!!!

After the meeting I went to see if Moe was still speaking to me. She asked me to sign her poem and said, "That way, when you become famous, I'll have an original with a signature."
Hang on to that one, Moe! I'm sure it will net you a small fortune!

Diesel Fuel And a Stickey Clutch

So, it's 20 degrees here this morning and The Horseman sends me off to work in a truck that is showing almost no fuel in either tank. I'm the lucky one who gets to drive the low fuel truck, because I don't have the longer drive to work. Not sure if I would have enough fuel to actually make it to town I stop at the station just a mile from the house. My hands freezing to the pump handle I fill both tanks and mumble bad things about The Horseman.

In the short drive to the station it becomes apparent that the clutch is sticking at about half pedal forcing me to stomp down after each gear change to make it come all the way up. SHIT! Looks like I'll be calling Randy to see if I can bring it by and get it adjusted today before I burn the damn thing up! I'm pretty sure Randy wonders why we just don't buy a vehicle that's not a piece of junk, but he can just keep taking our money to keep that junk on the road.

Speaking of Randy. The last time I had let my truck go way too long in between oil changes this is how the conversation went:

Me: Randy, I'm way past due to have my truck serviced. I need my ass kicked.

Randy: Bring it in tomorrow and we'll get it serviced, but I'll have to charge extra for the ass-kicking.

(I love Randy)

Maybe Not A Poet

As you may have gathered by the web name on my blog I fancy myself a poet. The truth is I like to write poetry, but that does not a poet make. I've decided to share one of the poems that I wrote. This particular one was written for someone who was very special to me. Her name was Gail and we were the closest of friends. So close in fact, that I would often tell people that she knew me better than I knew myself.

Gail died of a heart attack while mowing her lawn on October 5, 2001. I'm quite sure that she was pushing that mower about 110 mph, which is exactly the speed that she went about everything in life. The poem was published in the local paper on the anniversary of her birthday following her death.

Gail Caloway

July 19, 1944 - October 5, 2001

Teardrops fell from mourners eyes

While sunshine poured through cloudless skies

A stark contrast to the sadness we were all feeling

On that October day

Denial of reality crowded my mind

I was certain from this nightmare I would wake to find

You were only a phone call away

But it does me no good now to reach for the phone

When longing for your voice while I'm all alone

And I'm left with so many things I'd like to say

I prefer writing humorous poems, because poems like this take a lot out of me. I guess it may have something to do with putting too much of myself out there and it's easier to hide behind humor rather than showing what's in my heart.

First Ride (not about horses)

For nine years I worked a second job at a Mom-n-Pops type convenience store in a rural area, where everyone knows each other. All in all it was a happy and laid-back atmosphere. (except for the time I was robbed at gunpoint...tune in again for that story) In that nine years I got to witness a lot of kids growing up. One of my favorites was Christopher, the friendliest and sweetest little red-headed boy you could ever meet. I guess he was about eight when I first went to work there. He and I got to be good friends.

One evening I was in the back of the store slicing a bunch of deli meat for a customer, when Stacey (Christopher's mother) poked her head around the corner and said, "We just went and got Christopher's car. He's outside and wants you to come and see it." I told her that it was going to take me a little while to finish the meat order. She said that she would just have to wait, because Christopher would be mad if I didn't see his car.

When I finally made my way outside the store, there at the gas pumps, was a sight to behold. Next to a red Dodge Neon (embellished with yellow flames) stood a boy wearing an ear-to-ear grin. The type of grin that, I suspected, couldn't be slapped off from his face. After making a really big deal over his new ride (well, because it was a Dodge Neon...WITH FLAMES!) I felt compelled to give the speech. You know the one....The Teenage Driver Speech. To Christopher it probably sounded something like: Blah, blah, blah....speeding... yak, yak, yak... insurance will go up...blah, yak, blah....kids think they're immortal. I concluded with, "If you wreck this car and kill yourself I will never speak to you again!" Christopher must be about twenty years old now, and I'm thinking that my threat about never speaking to him again made him a very conscientious driver.

For most of us learning to drive and actually getting a car of our own was a very big deal. Remember? My sister (Bonnie) taught me to drive (without our parents consent) when she was seventeen and I was eleven. She had a Ford Falcon which had belonged to our brother-in-law. It was a pretty blue color and had a "three-on-the-tree." Didn't I think I was something!?! Out of all of my friends I was the first to get to drive.

My first car was a '67 Chevelle, which happened to be blue and had a "three-on-the-tree." Once again, I am the bomb! That sweet ride only used three quarts of oil every sixty or seventy miles and it didn't stick in third gear every time. It didn't matter if the gear got stuck, because I was young and quick. In fact, I was so quick that I could (much to the amusement of other motorists) stop at a red light, turn the engine off, stomp down the emergency brake, jump out, yank up the hood, get the transmission out of gear, slam the hood, get back in the car, start the engine and pull the gear shift back down to first, ALL before the light turned green!!! You can ask Lauri, if you don't believe me. Too bad nobody from NASCAR was witness to my speed and agility. I'm sure I would have been offered a pit crew position.

Ringtones And Memories

If I happen to call Brandon (my son) when he is in a public place, he quickly answers with a loud, "Hi, Mom!" Why quick and loud? He wants complete strangers to know that "She Drives Me Crazy" (Fine Young Cannibals) is his mother's ringtone and NOT his favorite song. How I happened to earn that as my ringtone is not what you may think. Actually that song reminds Brandon and I of each other. About sixteen years ago, on the way to Michigan, that song came on the radio. We cranked it up and sang at the top of our lungs! It's just a good memory of a good time. (the ringtone he has for his sister is "Stupid Girl".....she is not)

Funny how music has the ability to transport us to a different place and time. Submerging us in emotions from our past.

A few years after I graduated, the person who I "went steady" with (do kids still do that...sounds silly now) most of the way through high school told me that every time he heard "Long Cool Woman In A Black Dress" he would think of me. He said it was because of us being at some dance where I wore a black dress. At 5' 3" I was anything, but long. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only thing "long" about me was that I was a long way from being cool. However, I owned that black dress!

On the rare occasion that I hear, "Beautiful Sunday", I'm thirteen years old, riding in a station wagon full of other teens. Cathy's dad (Ray) is at the wheel. All of us (including Ray) are belting out that song. We're on our way to shop for dresses to wear to the Homecoming dance. What a beautiful sunny day it is, but it's NOT a Sunday. If it were Sunday we wouldn't be skipping school.

Let me know what times and places you are taken to by those time machines with melodies.

Rachael Ray Wanna Be

Does anyone have an extra blender? Gina needs one. It seems she (inadvertently) threw away the lid for hers. Gina also, left the bowl part of her food processor near the heat vent on the stove. Yep. Destroyed. If I told you once I told you a thousand times: DON'T use the stove top as counter space! Did I mention that her electric frying pan was propped up (apparently not good enough) on the counter to dry and ended up crashing to the floor? Broken legs. Of course, that one was her husbands fault, because he had the audacity to walk through his own kitchen. He didn't TOUCH the frying pan...he just walked through the kitchen. The nerve!!! I would file for a divorce so fast it would make his head spin!

For someone who (obviously) has it in for small kitchen appliances, it seems odd that Gina recently had a dream that her and Rachael Ray were really good buddies. "Tight," she said, "We were really tight."

Something tells me that if Rachael Ray shows up, I'll be kicked to the curb! That's just fine, because when Martha Stewart comes knocking on my door......Gina's ass is history!

Don't Feed That Bitch Beans

The Horseman and I used to cuddle in bed, but that came to an abrupt halt about two years ago, when he brought that bitch home! I hear him talking to her ALL the time. "Daddy's baby girl. Daddy loves the baby girl." I named her "Roxy", but I occasionally call her "Obnoxy". She's a boxer-mix, who sleeps smack-dab in between us. No cuddlin' goin' on in this house!

Like many dog owners, we have to spell certain words rather than speak them aloud. C-A-M-P-I-N-G. If you say it you'd better mean it! Uttering that word invokes a big hell raising session. Roxy loves camping and being out on the trail when we go riding. Lucky for The Horseman he brought home a true horse-dog.

The hooking-up of the horse trailer is another "hell raising" experience. The last time Rebel had to go to the vet, I drove in from work, hooked the trailer up and pulled around in to the driveway before letting Roxy out of the house. Oh, Boy! Jump! Jump! Jump! Bark! Bark! Bark! I load Rebel on the trailer. More jumping! More barking! (here's where it's a good thing when dogs understand some words) I said, "Roxy, he's going to the vet." She quietly went back into the house. Decidedly, Dr. Levine was not someone she wanted to see that day.

Back to our sleeping arrangement. The Horseman uses a breathing machine at night. The nose-piece expels air, causing a cool breeze. The bitch doesn't like a breeze in her face, but she still insists on sleeping in the middle. Being the intelligent creature she is, her remedy is to lay with her head down by our knees. Do you see where this is going? Yup! The dogs rear is in between our pillows!

As a footnote: The statement I made, about no cuddlin' goin' on, is not entirely true. Inevitably, at some point during the night, one of us ends up snuggled to the dog's ass!

Casual Friday

So, it's Friday morning and I show up for work.....looking exactly as I did when I went to bed the night before...my hair completely straight and plastered to my head, no make-up, wearing a thread-bare nightgown which (unfortunately) has more than its share of static electricity. I have clothes with me and intend to change before anyone else comes to work, but I lose track of time. The first person I encounter is my boss, (good old Z-Man) who engages me in a nice little conversation and (politely) pretends not to notice my attire. Lucky as I am, this is the day the construction crew is here to start on renovations. I am bombarded with questions about breaker-boxes and the HVAC unit. DAMN! Can't a girl get some clothes on around here? In all the confusion I look down to see the teddy bear on my gown clinging nervously to my chest. I feel your pain, buddy! Regardless of how bad this situation seems, I am thankful to be wearing the nightgown, because I have been known to go to work completely naked.

You can imagine my feeling of relief when my alarm sounds and I wake to find that this is Friday morning. I feel as though I've been given a "do-over!"

How Are You The Smorning?

Carrie (my daughter) has been an aspiring writer since a very early age. Even at five or six years old she always had her nose in a book or pen and paper in hand. Not much has changed in that respect except the pen and paper have been replaced with a laptop. My parents were visiting from Michigan when six-year-old Carrie asked my mother how to spell "smorning". Naturally, my mom questioned the word. "You know, Grandma, like: How are you the smorning?". When her grandmother tried to explain that the phrase was actually, "How are you THIS MORNING?" Carrie became frustrated with her. Stupid Grandma! How could she not know that "smorning" is a real word! After all, she had heard that word a thousand times.

Sawdite! When I was a little girl, (long before the 'Godfather' movies came out) that's what my sister (Betty) used to say, but (to me) it sounded more like, sedite. I knew exactly what she meant when she said it, because of the context in which the word was used.

There really is no point to this particular blog, but I would just like to tell Carrie and Betty that sawdite the smorning!