This stuff only happens to me

Going to work on Thursday, I was pulled over about 1/4 mile from the house. The weird thing was the vehicle was a new, big, Ford pickup with clear lights and red lights. (State Patrol, police & sheriff has red, blue & white lights. Fire Depts have green lights, unless it's an official vehicle. Blue lights are illegal to purchase...just some background)

Before I was pulled over, I rolled through the stop sign at the first intersection because it's a 90-degree turn and you can't see to the right very well. This is common...for me and also for everyone else in the neighborhood. The truck was toward the top of the hill, on the left side crossroad. I didn't put him in danger at all. He was probably cresting the hill when I turned.

The rest of the road is a straight-away for about a quarter mile. (everything in my life is measured by quarter-miles) Then it curves sharply to the left. (this is relevant)

All of a sudden, the truck sped up and was right on my bumper. He hit his lights so I pulled over, thinking perhaps it was fire department and needed by. He pulled in tight behind me. I started getting really nervous, which never happens. (I get pulled over every six months or so, I'm an old hand at this)

So, I left the truck running and didn't put my window down until the guy approached. Then I only rolled it down half-way. (Thank you Oprah and all those safety email pass-alongs)

The guy is not in uniform but is wearing a coat like deputies wear, sort of. It has a gold star on the lapel and stitching but I can't quite read the stitching. I think it said "warden". No badge, no visible gun, no nameplate.

He asks "Are you having a good day?" really sarcastically.

I kind of stammered that I was just going to work, I wasn't quite awake yet and that remained to be seen.

He then says "So, we're running stop signs and speeding today."

I told him that I didn't think I was speeding (I didn't) and he said that I was. He said that it was only 25 through there. HUGE RED FLAG. It's thirty-five. I said as much. He disagreed. Well, I noticed later that I was sitting right next to a caution sign that said "Curve 25 mph."
I wish I had seen it sooner! And for the record, the speed limit was recently changed from 35 to 30.

I started to get antsy and was thinking about dialing my cell when he said "You need to slow down", wished me a good day and walked away.

WTF?

Now, to add to the creepiness, he waited until we were past all of the houses to pull me over. I was in the secluded part of the road. He could have pulled me into the PUD office about 500 feet back but didn't. He waited until I was beyond all houses and near a sharp curve. And there was no shoulder to park on. The freeway is about half-mile away.

So, I got on the freeway and I was unhappy. After a few minutes, I called the Sheriff's department and explained what happened. The officer whom answered the phone was sympathetic and felt it needed reporting. She put me over to the officer of the day...whatever the hell he's called. I got to leave a message.

I went to work and told my co-workers about it and they freaked out. Each of them thought of a different detail: he parked too close, he didn't have a ticket book, the sheriff didn't indicate that they had record of me being pulled over (meaning the guy didn't call in my license plate) and why didn't I get a license plate?

Easy: he parked too f*&ing close and I just wanted the hell out of there.

The Deputy calls back and I explain what happened. I was quite reasonable, I think. I told him "It's not about getting pulled over, it's the fact that he didn't seem like he had any right to. There was no badge, no gun, no name on his coat." (I left out the part that he was an ass.)

I explained that it was a big, brand new Ford pick-up that didn't have the right style lights. I explained that I nearly didn't stop because of that.

The deputy stated that perhaps it was Drug Task Force, as they are working in that area. (*great* she thinks with withering sarcasm. What's worse? Drug dealers in the neighborhood or me possibly being part of a camp fireside horror story?)

I went on a rant: "If it was an officer, then I would like to let him know that perhaps he could IDENTIFY HIMSELF as such and not pull over a woman, on a secluded road nonetheless and scare the shit out of her first thing in the morning." I took a breath and then said "And that's my rant for the day. I am done now." The deputy actually kind of laughed and said "That's reasonable rant."

The day passes and no word from the deputy. I waited until the morning and called. He wasn't on shift (fabulous!) and there wasn't a note regarding my case. (double fabulous)
I was instructed to call later. I called later and left another message. I waited a few more hours and called again. Finally at 9:35 PM, the deputy calls me back.

"Oh yeah, that was a BORDER GUARD."

W. T. F !?!?!?!

"A border guard?"

"Yeah, they can pull you over, they cannot ticket you and they DO NOT HAVE TO IDENTIFY THEMSELVES."

Stammer.........."Whattttttttttttttttttt???????????????????"

"Yeah, I don't understand it either but that's how they work. I'm really sorry that happened to you."

I was dumbfounded. The border guard gets to scare the life out of me and no reprecussions. That's just not right. Oh, and I am 45 minutes away from the border! So, I am assuming that he must live around here.

I SO want to find his name, call his wife and say "Do you know what your husband did to me?" That would be better than any reprimand his commanding officer could give to him.

I may call the border patrol office tomorrow (because of course I find out on a Friday night) to see what can be done.

It's just not right. Like I said, it wasn't about me being pulled over, it was about the image of me being a headline in the newspaper the next day having been kidnapped, killed, whatever by this jerk.

The MG said "Perhaps you just got caught in the crossfire of someone having a bad day." Well, if that's the case then he's going to have another one when I complain.

And I'm still not stopping at that stop sign until they fix the intersection. Psycho border guard or not.

When we bought the old house/property, it was a disaster. In our naivete, we had no idea what we were getting into. We bought the property on the assumption that it had a creek because you couldn't actually see it. Just like you couldn't actually see the garden the original owner had kept.

While cleaning everything up, MG found this cute little yard art among the weeds. For one of the first times ever in our relationship, I saw him exhibit a sentimental side. "Why don't we keep this? In honor of Mrs. Gritz?"

So, the cute little Dutch couple live in our corner garden, some 17 years later. We made sure we kept them safe when we built the new house and now they're tucked away in the corner, protected from the dogs and some of the weather.

I hope Mrs. Gritz is pleased.

Potty Mouth

As predicted, I returned from our weekend with a potty mouth. It began as I blearily stumbled out of the bedroom only to see a hallway-long trail of shedded dog hair. It's shedding season and every time this year I swear I am going to shave the dog clean. Luckily for her, MG keeps me from doing so.

It's amazing how immersing yourself in a culture (as I dare call "Boy World" culture) can alter your language in such a short time. Even when I was aware of it. I began to mentally count each time I cursed today. It's not pretty.

I give it another day or so and I will return to the regular level of cursing. Only in two weeks, I am back in that world. Heaven help us all.

It was a great weekend though. The weather was beautiful, we did well and we got to see our friends. What more could I ask for, eh?

Hello Canadian Friends

It's with excitement that we are packing, right this minute, to spend the weekend in Canada. It's been two years since I've been there. Two Years! I can't wait to see our friends.

It wasn't until the past few days that I've realized how much I miss them. I can't wait to hear "Hello Our American Friends" from Jason, to see how big Miguel's girls have grown and just to hear the familiar lilt of their accents. All the "ehs", the "f&#k-alls" and "Right on"s. I know I am going to return with a potty mouth, as i usually do. (I am not sure if it's the Canadian thing or the Boy World thing. Although the f-bomb doesn't carry the strength there like it does in the States.)

Secondarily, to me at least, we're racing the car for the first time in about a year. That is always nerve-wracking. The first pass is always watched through cautious eyes. Of course, we hope to set the world on fire but will be happy with not breaking anything other than the bank.

*happy hand clap* I'm excited to see old friends! As our friend Steve says "It's just a line in the dirt. It's ridiculous we don't see each other more often."

We'll see you soon, eh?

Ring a Ding

This is a little brass bell that I have for no other reason than I like it. It serves no purpose in this house other than it makes a nice little grouping on our bookshelf.

I found in at my great-aunts house. She had passed and my parents were in charge of closing her house. She was in her 80's, had outlived three husbands, and had lived in this house for 35 years. The homestead was next door and she had lived in that home from about 1935 - 1970.
The amount of stuff that was packed into that house was mind-boggling.

This bell was on a shelf somewhere. It wasn't hung on a door or packed with Christmas decorations. It seems that its purpose in that house was much like it purpose here. Something pretty.

Aunt Betty didn't have children, just like me, so it's not like it was a pioneer in child safety. She wasn't a store owner so check that off the list as well. Her husbands were working men, farmers and such. The bell is too small to be a cow bell. And there were some of those in the barn.

So, this strange little bell is spending another lifetime with no purpose other than being sparkly.

A little side note: if you've ever closed a house you'll know what I'm talking about. If you haven't: Think about the things that you have kept in your life. Consider whether or not they are ever going to serve a purpose in your or someone else's life. Consider what your children will think when they discover it.

Now think about what happens if someone else is going to pack up your house. *gasp* those old letters from boyfriends! that trashy, racy novel that no one knows you've read - let alone own, all those old school projects! That credit card bill that your spouse doesn't know about!

Yikes.

Makes you want to go clean your closet, eh?

See, that little bell made you think, didn't it?

Random Stuff in My House

In an effort to post more regularly, I came up with this idea. Granted, it was about three o'clock in the morning so bear with me.

Random stuff in my house. I am going to choose an object from my house, photograph it and post it. As I thought about this, I realized that I really do have some random sh*t in my house. As I am sure so do you.

Without further ado, Random Stuff #1:




This is, by far, the creepiest thing in our house. It resides in our china cupboard. I actually have it placed in such a way that I don't see it when I walk by. It freaks me out a little. (aren't you glad I shared?)

It's a creamer. It's probably an antique and a collector item. I say it's a monkey but the family says it's a dog. I say it's creepy.

When my in-laws sold the family home and moved up here, we divided everything up amongst the family. The boys (Mad Genius & his brother) divided three china cupboards full of china. If they disagreed about anything, it was maturely settled by Paper, Rock, Scissors.

Unfortunately, I cannot blame the ownership of this creamer to a losing round of Paper, Rock Scissors. Nope, the Mad Genius chose it On PURPOSE.

Raindrops keep falling on my head

It's June. June 9th. Tonight we had a winter-like storm pass over the house that blew over trees and cut off our power. It hailed. It's continuing to rain as if God is holding a garden hose over the house. WTF. It's June!

My weather friend Scott says that it's going to be like this all through June. September weather in June. I, who is normally not bothered by the weather, am ready to move to Arizona.

So with this pouty little rant, I am sharing the only thing about the rain that I have enjoyed. It's an ad from Scott's blog www.komonews.com/weather/blog

Friendly

So, the YW has a cat. He's feral and full of attitude. He will deign to allow some people to pet him, on his terms of course, and will hiss at others. His name is Friendly, with intended irony. He lived here at the YW for a few years and then disappeared. He was gone for over a year. Apparently, he's back after having spent lives #4-6 from his adventures.

I took this picture of him this morning, from the safety of the vestibule. Unfortunately, my camera is slow so I didn't get the true portrait of him hissing at me. He has the best "I'll f*&k you up" expression of any cat I have ever seen. I think it's because I think he has the power to back up the attitude.

He looks sweet, don't believe it. It's a disguise. I think he used to work for the CIA.

Unusual Crushes

We were talking about celebrities that we found attractive that most people don't. Not the George Clooney's of the world but of the more quirky variety. Swistle's example was Kevin James. Mine would be Kevin Smith.

So, without further ado: My Unusual Crushes:

Stephen Colbert. He had a picture in Vanity Fair that I nearly taped on the wall above my computer.

Hector Elizondo...he's older now but there's just something in his eyes.

Jeremy Piven before he became "Entourge."

Stanley Tucci...I think it's the eyes.

Ethan Embry (in Sweet Home Alabama)

Again, feel free to discuss amongst yourselves...

Rom Coms

I found this interesting... http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/09/movies/09roma.html

*pause* while you read...I'll wait....

As I think about my favorite "rom-coms" as the industry apparently refers to them *wretch* It occurs to me that there are two common denominators when considering great movies in this category: ensemble casts/multi-storylines (Hello? Love Actually!) and the 90-minute format. Many movies shouldn't or can't be squashed/edited/rushed into that quick little time frame. Yet many are. Thank you, short-attention-span America.

But in our fast food, disposable mindset, everything has to be done in sound bites. A lot of content is lost in the editing; a lot of little detail that adds to the feeling of the entire movie is cut for time. Many movies could be great (or just simply, better) with just a little more character or plot development. But with our short-attention span and the monster that is the movie industry, this seems no longer possible.

Sadly, I am one that will watch the same movie over and over, especially the movies with good soundtracks. There's something about my ADD brain that allows this. (The Mad Genius is guilty of this as well.) I have noticed that with multiple viewings, I often catch things - sometimes just nuances - that I missed in the original viewing. Things that suddenly click the plot into place for me. Or little assumptions that I make...have you caught the chemistry between two sub-characters and make assumptions? (The Lake House - Keanu's "assistant" and Sandra's boyfriend. I bet they hooked up later)

Or I focus not on the main character and find details that I previously missed: an expression, a gesture, a little subplot move that blends everything together with a little more clarity. I have also noticed details that I have previously missed now that television screens are increasing. I’ll never forget watching an episode of Mad About You and noticing that we had the same area rug! I hadn’t caught that on a smaller screened television!

Also, as Swistle has pointed out in previous conversations: much like books, some movies take mulling over and even a second watch. Also, no longer easily done. Movies are too expensive to go to the theatre twice. There are also so many movies to watch and not enough time. We just don’t have time for that kind of movie watching anymore. And the movie industry doesn’t allow for it. It’s sad really.

For instance, I wasn't wild about Stranger than Fiction at first but it took up residence in my brain and now I love it. It wasn't labeled a romantic comedy but it surely was. This brings up another problem: sometimes movies are sorely mislabeled.

Or there are so many genres contained within one film, how do you possible label it? "Mr. & Mrs. Smith" is a perfect example. Comedy? Yes. Romance? Yes. Action? Yes.

I think Hollywood needs to work on refining their definitions or maybe even let go of them entirely. Wouldn’t that make for some fun Oscar nominations?

Perhaps a wedge that needs to be driven between categories. There's chick flick, there's romantic comedies and then there's romance. Devil Wears Prada = Chick Flick, When Harry Met Sally = Romantic Comedy and Moulin Rouge = Romance.

Knocked Up and 40-Year-Old Virgin are NOT romantic comedies for the love of Nora Ephron! They're "American Pie" for grown-ups. And I SOOOOOOOOO didn't see how Knocked Up was "Hilarious!" as proclaimed by oh, everyone.

Katherine Hiegl was more enjoyable in The Ringer with Johnny Knoxville. (SO non-PC and had some pretty freaking funny moments) Oh, I’m off topic…big surprise.

So many times, I’ve watched a movie and thought, “This isn’t a comedy.”
Most recently, I watched “Lucky You” with Drew Barrymore and Eric Bana. I remember it being marketed as a romantic comedy. It So Wasn’t! It was actually more of guy movie.
“Little Black Book” was also marketed at as romantic comedy. But it was actually a little dark and had a social commentary on privacy, the media, and the public’s avarice for “infotainment”.

To return to a previous point: All of these movies aren’t easily categorized as well. Sure, there’s romance in all, there’s comedy in all but there is also drama. It’s as if there needs to be an entire new category. “Dramedy” has been bounced around a bit. I think I can work with dramedy.

To add to the mix, there is a mindset that actors can’t act out of their range. Will Ferrell in Stranger than Fiction – PERFECT. Adam Sandler in Reign on Me – PERFECT. Jim Carrey in The Majestic. (more on him in a minute)

Remember when there were only a handful of movies to watch in the theatre and they were in there for forever, it seemed. I think movies were given a better shake during that time and in relation, the movies HAD to be better. There was only one theatre in town and two movies. They had to stand the test of time. There’s a line in the movie “The Holiday” where the elderly former movie writer exclaims in disgust “Nine movies out in one weekend! And this is conducive to great film making!?!”
Yeah, what he said.

While I'm on a rant here, box office isn't the end all/be all of tallies anymore. DVD rentals/purchases and Pay-per-View or On Demand movies have sometimes completely different results than the original box office. (Better off Dead & Princess Bride are two notable examples although I am sure there are more recent examples) Which kind of makes some of my points moot but only a little.

Personally, I hate, hate, hate going to the movie theatre. People are rude. Drinks & treats are expensive, tickets are expensive. They rarely feel clean. And it’s too freaking loud. Explain to me, in the age of NetFlix and plasma televisions, why a person would go to the theatre? I don’t get it.

About a year ago, the New York Times had an article on Boutique Theatres. It was a small venue, set up for 30-50 people with comfy seating, adult beverages and appetizers. If I remember correctly, there was a need for reservations. THAT is my kind of movie theatre! Of course, it was horribly expensive but I could justify that expense.

In the movie The Majestic- a totally underrated movie - the lead character whose name I’ve forgotten mentions that going to the theatre used to be an EVENT. It was a treat. People dressed up. Now people talk, answer cell phones, eat, and behave as if there aren’t 150 other people in the room with them. This is where I love the idea of boutique theatres.

However, I like movies no one likes. Perhaps it’s that I always root for the underdog.

I loved:

The Majestic with Jim Carrey. It has a nostalgic, dreamy feel to it. People couldn’t wrap their minds about Jim Carrey not being Ace Ventura and that’s really sad. My mom grew up in that area and in that era.

Elizabethtown with Orlando Bloom & Kirsten Dunst. There’s so much going on in that movie and the soundtrack is Amazing…and it actually becomes a character in the movie.

Catch & Release was good – not great - although I think they miscast the male lead. LOVE the music in it too. Multiple storylines, always my fave. Juliet Lewis has one scene that breaks my heart every time I see it. Kevin Smith and Jennifer Gardner are the stars.

Jersey Girl with Ben Affleck & Liv Tyler. (another miscast: Jennifer Lopez. She sunk the movie before it even got out of editing) Great cameo by Will Smith. George Carlin ROCKED and "Gertie" was played by the most beautiful little girl I have ever seen. But then, I love Kevin Smith. (See Catch & Release) Sweeney Todd is featured before Johnny Depp made it mainstream.

Return to Me with Minnie Driver and David Duchovony.... heart-wrenching (excuse the pun. You'll understand if you've seen it) Even D - my cynical, dark movie watcher & David Duchovany-hater LOVED that movie. Carroll O’Connor’s last film role. Bonnie Hunt and Jim Belushi. It’s nearly perfect.

Someone wrote once that "An Affair to Remember" could never be duplicated. I totally agree. I like watching it back-to-back with Sleepless in Seattle during the holidays. Random, renegade thought…not relevant to anything previously written.

And to add to the "You will NEVER top this movie, don't even try" category: Even over "An Affair to Remember" is "The Philadelphia Story" with Cary Grant, James Stewart, and Katherine Hepburn. Their dialogue and chemistry stands the test of today’s humor and intellect. “Yes, she was yar…

While I’m on a rant here: What I really, really, don’t understand is how Quentin Tarantino has a career. I am really not a fan of violence. I believe there is way too much of it in real life to glorify it on the screen. And it pisses me off that people don’t acknowledge the correlation of violence in movies, games, music to violence in real life. I just read a quote from QT that said, “People either love or hate my movies.” Um………DUH. I just see no redeemable qualities from his movies and now, in him.

Even I can accept the dark weirdness that is Tim Burton. Here is a guy that must have actually lived in the Munsters home as a child. He’s dark, he’s quirky but on the whole, he’s not destructive. Well, Sweeny Todd…maybe a little destructive. Not glorified destructive.

Meanwhile, the NYT article mentions many movies as reference:

"My Best Friends Wedding" was good but not one my faves, even with our boyfriend Dermot Mulroney. It surprised me that it did well. I don't remember that.

Diane Lane & our true love John Cusack had little chemistry in "Must Love Dogs". I'm trying to think who would be better? Naomi Watts perhaps? She's in my mind because I watched The Painted Veil last weekend. Arduous but good. Not a happy ending, you've been warned. But there's resolution so it's redeemable.

The Nanny Diaries I haven't seen. Scarlet Johansen is an acquired taste, I think. Perhaps that's what sunk it. She lost me when she began working with Woody Allen (*cough* pedophile *ahem*) It struck me as a Chick-Flick and not a romantic comedy.

The best romantic comedy, in my humble opinion, is The Princess Bride. I have watched it hundreds of times and can recite the lines…not just the “My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die.” that everyone knows.

It has Robin Wright before she was anybody, Cary Elwes…swoon… Rob Reiner, whom I could watch direct Sesame Street and I would be happy. Soundtrack by Mark Knopfler.
Simply cannot be improved.

So, jeez on crackers, this has been a long rambling post. Movies: one of my all-time favorite things. Don’t get me started again…Although I am sure there are movies that I’ve forgotten that I’ll head-slap myself as soon as I click “Post”.

Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves…….

The Road Home

Rainy Day

Drunk Dialing

The Mad Genius has a new favorite song…for the minute…It’s called “Friends Don’t Let Friends Drunk Dial” (James Otto, newest Country hottie www.jamesotto.com )

I have never drunk dialed but can think, now fondly – not so much fondly at the time - of one episode of drunk dialing that I have experienced first hand.

After I was married the first time…usually defined as “That time when I lost my mind”…
I had a friend with benefits whom shall remain nameless as I’m embarrassed to admit it now. He knows who he is. (;-D

Well, I had moved on from that “relationship” and was seriously dating someone else. I was also living with my sister and her boyfriend at the time.

2:30 AM, the telephone rings. As I am sleeping, I don’t hear it until my soon-to-be-but-not-for-long brother in law grouchily brings me the telephone.

I answer only to hear my name being sing-songed in a rather slurred fashion. Oh good, my favorite: drunk people. Now let me preface this that this friend is also my one friend that is That Guy. The “You’re my Best Friend” guy when he’s had too much to drink.

It was a booty call. Back in the 1990, it wasn’t called that but now it is SO defined as a booty call. He wants to come over. The conversation was essentially a loop of:

“I’m coming over. I want to see you.” (and all that it implies..)

“But you’ve been drinking”

“Fine, then you come over, I want to see you…”

“No, it’s 2:30 in the morning”

“But I’m up and I want to see you. You’re up.”

“Yes, because you WOKE me up. I’m not coming over”

“I want to see you. I want to…(edited for adult content..although on a PG rating)”

After about five minutes of explaining that it wasn’t going to happen, I finally hear “Fine. I will Save Your Virtue. I will Not Come Over! Your virtue is safe with me!”

How it went from a booty call to a noble thing, I am still not sure. But my virtue was safe.

It still makes me laugh. The friends with benefits thing. The “Saving My Virtue”.

I bet if I called him right now, he would laugh albeit a little embarrassed.

“You’re Gonna Miss This…”

Best Things Ever

Again, an addition to a previous post:

I have mentioned before that I thought cell phones and Sirius radio are the best things ever. Upon request, here are some noble additions to the list. I welcome your comments & suggestions!

Cell phones

Sirius Radio

Iced Mochas

Pre-made Caesar Salad Mixes

Swiffer Duster

Spider Solitaire

Target
Baby wipes

Now for your viewing pleasure...

Hey friends, speaking of secret identities, may I introduce one of my dearest friends to you: Swistle. You may find her and links to other places she writes here:

http://www.swistle.blogspot.com/

Even though we’ve been friends for years, I still feel like I’m learning more and more about her while reading these little vignettes from her life.

Hope you enjoy! I sure do.

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother’s Day to all the Mothers out there…

Just remember, you can choose who your family is. If you got dealt the low card in the family deck, just choose another one. Family is about connection, love and support; not DNA.

It's Time

I am not sure if it’s because I’m staring at 40 or if it’s because I now work for a social service which is more political minded or if it’s just the glow of my hopeless crush on Andrew Sullivan. I’ve become addicted to the political scene.

Perhaps it’s because information is so readily available now. This election has had to be conducted like no other election in the past. These candidates must also now campaign on the internet. The wonders of YouTube, information just a click away. Unedited clips at the ready. A person can actual listen to what’s being said in more than a soundbite.

Perhaps it's that The Daily Show, The Colbert Report and Saturday Night Live, while mocking the process, also educates us at the same time.

Perhaps it’s that this election is reading like a script from David Chase. Well, maybe not David Chase. I imagine even he is scratching his head in astonishment at this point.

Never in history have we had such a diverse choice in presidents. For once in this ever changing world, we are not forced to choose from the group of boring, old, rich, Christian, white men. Can I get a hallelujah? (irony intended)

It’s the campaign that refuse to die. Scandals! Leaked memos! Crazy former Pastors! Crazy religions! Spouses with extra-curricular activities! Every day I check in with my boyfriend Andrew and Huffington Post to see what wonders have transpired overnight. And I am rarely disappointed.

It is now with baited breath that I am waiting for June. June is when they say HRC will finally throw in the towel. June is when the campaign will really get interesting. It’s just beginning. I can hardly wait.

It’s time. It’s time for change. Let’s not elect the boring, old, rich, Christian, white man. Let’s throw caution to the wind: let’s elect someone that is not part of The Machine. Let’s elect someone that doesn’t owe people favors and/or money. Let’s elect someone who is willing to try something new and not just go with the flow of “how it’s always been done.”

It’s become tired but it’s true: It’s time for a change.

Secret Identities

As a writer, one of the more fun things I've thought about and discussed was a pen name. What name would I use? My maiden name? A made up name? A combination of family names? I just can't decide.

Then that pondering branches out to screen names. It took me awhile to come up with "Firegirl". Essentially, I just made a list of likes and attributes and viola! There was Firegirl. (the fact that it sounds like a super hero name? all the better)

Why is it so difficult to think of screen names and passwords? Or is it just me? They say you should have multiples of both in order to thwart identity theft. (again with the super hero thing..."thwart")

Use nicknames? yeah, that works but it's not very fun. I don't use my real name as I like to be Anonymous Girl (again, super hero theme) and my name (married & given) is plain.
Plus, I admire people when I see clever screen names. I'm always a little jealous.

And passwords, forget about it. I use two. Two are all that I can manage. (I heard that gasp, you IT people out there)
AND I have a list of them written down so I can keep track of which use which. How do people remember these things? I can't remember to pack my lunch most days. FOOD, I forget food. How can I remember the password for my cell phone account is Punkin93? (it's not...gotcha)

I thought I was so clever once and tried to just use the name or initials of the site and the actual word "password" but some of the password Gods would reject it so that didn't work. Sigh...it's just too hard.

So Firegirl it is.

Sneaky Little Bastard

Again, continued from a previous post...

I've found that Sneaky Little Bastard doesn't like a few things. He doesn't like:

Fresh air.
Iced Mochas.
Country Music. (insert snarky comment here, music snobs!)
Chiropractic adjustments.
Busyness. (activity...or okay, fine, you could call it exercise too)

While his ugly head still rears occasionally. He usually sulks off with the application of any of the above. Sneaky little bastard.

Street Wear!

Believe it or not, that's the actual name of a fingernail polish. And while you would think it was a scarlet color, it's actually a very mellow pink/skin color.

It was a donation that came into work the other day. After I was done mocking the name of it, I noticed that it was actually kind of a nice color. So I tried it. I know! A GIRLY thing, I did it! With minimal amount of fuss, nonetheless.

It looked okay. It was a little jarring to look down at my hands and see polish at first. I kind of grooved on it for awhile. But then...it chipped. Ugh.

I forget this. I every once in a while use polish. Usually based around some sort of an event: a wedding perhaps. But then it chips and I'm pissed.

And again, attention span of a small child, I forget that I have to take the polish off. I forget that there's maintenance. AND THEN I remember WHY I don't use polish.

It's not like it's rocket science, really but it just irritates me.

So, today I spent minutes scrubbing the damn stuff off. We'll see if I do it again later. Right now I'm looking at the bottle with disdain.

It ain't easy being green...

or is it?

Fred Meyer grocery stores (Kroger in some areas) are giving away the mesh grocery bags if you spend a certain amount this month. (commerce & environmentalism collide in a strange, satisfying way)

I have been intending for a YEAR to buy those bags. I am filled with guilt when I see how many plastic bags I bring home each Saturday. I try to remember to recycle them but c'mon you've met me (sorta) I have the attention span of a small child.

So it was with relief when the cashier gave me three bags! I've left them in the truck, with the theory I'll remember to take them inside.

There's really no excuse not to use these bags. They're CHEAP, under a dollar unless you want the decorated ones. (which I do, contributing to the said procrastination)

The other green thing we did that was fairly painless was when we bought this house. We took all the incandescent bulbs out and put in fluorescents. Ta dah! Happier environment, happier electricity bill!

We're on a well and sewer system so we recycle that way....ew factor, sorry about that.

We recycle our newspapers, magazines and plastics. Gold star = Us.

It's quite simple actually being green. Just a little green. Al Gore isn't going to come knock on the door and congratulate me but that's okay.

C'mon, all the cool kids are doing it.

My Name Is Earl

Not really....but it should be.

I really must figure out who or what I've cosmically wronged because I'm getting pretty damned tired.

Yesterday, the brakes went out on my truck. Yeah, Brakes. I need those. Especially when my work is on a HILL.

Now, a suspicious mind would wonder if I am trapped in a Lifetime Made for TV movie. I flip my truck and I survive with minor injuries. Wait a few months and my brakes fail...what the hell?
But I am confident that the MG is not trying to kill me.

So, that leaves Karmic Debt. Somewhere I owe Karma something. I must find out what and rectify it. Seriously.

Any suggestions? I didn't go see the Dali Lama when he was in town, was that it? Tickets were sold out! (that's a total assumption, I don't really know)

Division of Labor

Dear Readers who've paid attention and have good memories will remember my Division of Labor post from awhile ago...I wish I was patient enough to link it, really I do...

Division of Labor in our household is quite simple:
Inside = Me
Outside = Mad Genius

Vehicles = Him
People = Me

Anyone who balks at this idea...me, the lowly housewife while MG does stuff outside randomly, can unbalk... While I am here in my cozy office and listening to Jack Johnson, he is laying in our gravel driveway, under my truck fixing my brakes. For this, I will gladly clean his toilets, wash his clothes and pay his bills. For *I* am not laying in gravel, cover in grease and cursing profusely at the fitting that won't come lose.

And by him doing so accomplishes a few things: the lack of a huge repair bill, my continual state of cozy and oh, a truck that stops. For this, I will make him that nasty Hamburger Helper dinner that he LOVES and I retch at the mere thought of.

Way to Go Ashley!

First Female Funny Car Driver Winner & Points Leader

http://www.nhra.com/content/team_report.asp?articleid=28489&zoneid=86

You're Gonna Miss This...

Trace Adkins has a new song out right now, titled the above. It tells the story of a teenage girl as she ages to a mom. The moral being "You're going to miss this so stop wishing for the future."

The Mad Genius mentioned the song the other day and said it actually made him reflective.
It reminded him of when he was younger and always had friends around. Now everyone has their own lives and he doesn't see them as often.

Or now that his parents have aged, how active they used to be back-in-the-day. MG's parents would go to our parties and dance the night away. They would go four-wheeling. Now they're both in their 70's, those days are long gone.

And as I think about it. There are times that I miss, mostly quite the same as MG's. Times when everyone traveled as a group. When there WAS a group of us, before adult responsibilities intervened. I miss just the plain spontaneity of being young, of being able to drop everything without planning or worrying.

It's difficult to see the right now from the future. But it's intriguing to think about. What about right now are we going to miss?

Yeah, What He Said

"I cannot hold up any book and say, 'Here. This is what I believe.' I do not know of any church where I would feel at home. But I do believe that what people call God refers to something real... I would even go so far as to say that this God of mine makes demands. To learn, to teach, to engage. To be aware of and respect the world around me. To acknowledge that there are things greater then myself and to be humble in their presence." -- Dan Jackson

And then there is this passage that made me laugh...nipped from Andrew Sullivan's blog...

Driscoll put this bluntly in his sermon "Death by Love" at the 2006 Resurgence theology conference (available at TheResurgence.com). According to Driscoll, "real men" avoid the church because it projects a "Richard Simmons, hippie, queer Christ" that "is no one to live for [and] is no one to die for."

Driscoll explains, "Jesus was not a long-haired … effeminate-looking dude"; rather, he had "callused hands and big biceps." This is the sort of Christ men are drawn to—what Driscoll calls "Ultimate Fighting Jesus."

It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

the view from my office...
If you look closely, you can see signs of *SPRING*

Ha!

This is what I love about baseball: tradition and superstition! A Red Sox jersey under the new Yankee Stadium. Love, love, love it! www.nypost.com


Go SOX!

Free Pass

The beginning of this post won't so much be timely but bear with me.

The Eliot Spitzer "scandal" has brought up a few conversations in this household. According to the New York Times, the scandal has kicked open the door for conversations in quite a few relationships regarding fidelity.

Firstly, this is kind of unrelated but it makes me laugh every time I think of it:
During all the press coverage the night the story broke, all I could picture was Hilary and Bill Clinton sitting at the dinner table eating when suddenly Hilary just bitch-slaps Bill without warning.
I can't imagine how PISSED she must have been that the whole Monica thing was suddenly again in the spotlight.

So, infidelity. It's usually quite the black & white topic. But for me it's not. Again, the time worn "There's three sides to every story" comes into play. I usually don't assume that the adulterer is automatically guilty. Do I place responsibility on the adulterer? YES. But there are usually reasons behind the actions. (sometimes simply the person is an ass)

There is a deejay in Seattle that often has his wife on the air with him. Her name is (I choose to think it's her radio name) Scallops. During this time, they discussed how Scallops has given her husband a one-time free pass. If he cheats, she would rather not know about it.

Before your head explodes, bear with me.

There are stipulations. It's a ONE TIME THING. The example she gives is that He makes a bad choice, puts himself into a bad situation, or they are simply not in a good space, whatever, and he has sex with someone. ONCE. Not a relationship: SEX.

AND only if he realizes that he's f*cked up literally and figuratively, and chooses to return to her forevermore.

I have to say I agree with her. If the MG lost his mind and did some chick but then realized his mistake and intended to never do it again, I would rather not know.

Of course, I say this knowing it's highly unlikely. (as he himself pointed out) But also, I know human nature and it causes us to do some pretty stupid shit. I would like to have a pass if that were ever to happen to me.

Dear Abby has written about admitting mistakes - inclusive of infidelity - and she says that sometimes admitting the mistakes only helps the person who made them. However, it destroys the other person. In that perspective: admitting it would be cruel and destructive when it didn't need to happen.

Of course there are many angles in which to look at this and I realize that I am probably in the minority. That's okay.

You may now proceed with the "WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU THINKING!?!" comments....

Jack Johnson

...could sing the Alphabet and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and I would buy the freaking album.

I'm just saying.

It's a sign

So on Saturday, the Mad Genius and I went on a small-ish road trip. Racing season is beginning soon so we went to pick up race fuel some distance away.

The two of us tend to get into deep conversations while in the car. I don't know why this is and it's not to imply that we have shallow conversations at home. It's just something we do. It's almost therapeutic. The topics can range from family to world issues to religion.

For some reason, the subject of God, faith and religion came up. As from my previous post, you know that this has been a regular occurrence lately. I am not sure why.

The Mad Genius is Agnostic. He, being hard-wired the way he is, questions Everything. He doesn't understand my faith....faith being the understanding that my beliefs just "are". Not "faith" as in I am Catholic, Mormon or Lutheran but as in I simply believe there is a power greater than us and I don't require extraordinary proof to believe.

So, as we speed down I-5, we notice a mini-van pass us. The passenger waves and gives us a thumbs up. Now, to risk sounding fat-headed, we've become a little used to thumbs-up in traffic but ONLY when towing the racecar. We were just in my truck. MG puzzled for a moment and then pointed out the back of the van. They had the fish symbol on their bumper. As did we.

For some reason beyond our explanation, they chose that moment to acknowledge our sticker.

Now if that's not some sort of sign, then nothing is.

Alas

She returns! In my most youngest-child, Saggitarian-like way I always eventually resurface.

I've had little to say I guess, but as I think about it: that's hardly possible. I *always* have *something* to say!

And I have had great (as far as you know) ideas for blogs. But *head slap* I failed to write them down. However, sitting at the computer for long amounts of time have not so much been possible. But now I seem to be nearly healed from that silly little roll-over.


So bear with me while I re-gather my thoughts................on we go..........

Mary Kay Commando

When I was little, my mom grew my hair long. It reached my bum. This made no sense as we lived on a lake and I spent 75% of my time in the summer in the water followed by an hour of shampoo and “No More Tears” detangler. (oh, there were tears too, just not from the conditioner)

But after having two boys, my mom probably enjoyed finally having a girl that she could fuss up. But as I always say: God has a sense of humor. He sent my mom a tomboy. Hated having my hair washed, hated ponytails, hated anyone fussing with my hair. HATED IT.

So I had to tamp down that inner-tomboy the other day. Albeit a little unsuccessfully. The YW has a make-up consultant. Someone that will sit down with you, apply your make-up, and advise you on how to look your best. Perfectly lovely idea.

When there was a cancellation and it turned out that I had similar skin tone and hair color as the person, I was asked if I wanted to do it. Now I’m all for looking my best but no thanks. I wear little make-up as it is. Better people than me have tried to get me to be a girly girl. I resist.

But most surprising to me was that, like the snap of your fingers, out came roaring that whirling dervish of a tomboy. I appreciated the thought but immediately all I could think of is “I don’t WANNA sit still! I don’t WANNA wear that! I don’t WANNA!” I could feel the tantrum start to rise up my spine. I was hopefully outwardly politely declining. I momentarily considered it, mostly so that the consultant didn't have her time wasted. I would like to be the grown up and cooperate. But the inner toddler took over. It was a no go.

And somewhere in the universe my mother sighed. I could sense her disappointment.

(Props to J who did it on a whim and has been looking great ever since!)

Home

What is it about music? Right now I am playing Michael Buble’s album and Pow! Suddenly I am cheerfully writing away. This album has become the soundtrack of my creative flow. There is some hard-wired trigger that recognizes the notes and nudges the synapses into action: Play this music and I'll write the afternoon away. Play this music and I’ll houseclean. Play this music and I’ll call “D”. Play this music and go for a drive. Play this music and I’ll……………..oh no, we won’t go there. (Etta James…that’s all I’m saying…)

So you can thank (or curse) Michael Buble for this little flurry of postings!

The Sunny Side of the Street

All is right with my world. Or shall I say right-side-up?

I’ve got my truck back and I am the happiest of happy campers. I am no longer dependent upon anyone! Wooohooo! I have gas mileage! I can take the long way home and not by way of a ditch! Double Wooohooo!

I have shiny paint! My previously broken turn signal works! What more could a girl ask for?

Bring on the Snow! Not now, of course, that would be silly. But I'm ready!

Tigger

I am one of the strange creatures that love Daylight Saving Time. There’s just something about that little tweak of the clock that sets me right. I can get up easier in the morning, I can stay up later at night, and I don’t drag myself through the 2:00 pm doldrums. Life is good.

It could be that we’re in the land of rainy days and rainy nights. It could be that I’ve convinced myself that I like it. It could be my inner rebel loving to change time arbitrarily. Who knows? I just know that I feel, dare-I-say PEPPY!?!?!

Rolling, Rolling Rolling

So, my latest adventure has not been a good one. Not even a glimmer of good. You see, in the snow that I love so much, I managed to roll my truck. Yeah, not my best day.

It was probably mostly my fault; I over-corrected and probably should have been in four-wheel drive. What started the entire thing was someone else coming toward me and hugging the yellow line. Unfortunately, that someone else kept going. They were going fast enough that they may have seen me get out of shape but not go over. Or, if they were clueless enough to be hugging the yellow line, one could assume that they didn’t bother looking back.

During my explanations of what happened…people are fascinated to hear about rollover accidents!...it has become clear that something I learned from the drag racing world is something worth sharing with the rest of the world.

If you are about to be in an accident and have the wherewithal to think of this, please do:
Either cross your arms across your chest or over your head. (In my case, it was over my head) This prevents a few things: head injury, of course. Although I do have two bumps on my head where my hands didn’t over it completely. (more on that in a minute)

But more interestingly: it helps prevent your arms from being broken or damaged. If you rollover, your arms aren’t able to flail about or get pinned. If you’re simply in a crash, it will keep you from gripping the steering wheel in panic and possibly breaking your arms. And/or it keeps them from getting pinned by the airbag.

I learned this when a fellow drag racer crashed at the racetrack a few years ago. She, yes, *she*, told us that shortly after she put her car into the wall at about 120 mph and emerged with nothing but a headache. (Thank you NHRA safety rules!)

I don’t know how or why it popped into my head at the time but it did. Also, it was a slow roll so I had a little bit of time to contemplate what was about to happen…and curse profusely.

It’s occurred to me that perhaps this is something that should be taught in Drivers Ed classes. Browsing through my niece’s drivers ed book, I realized that it’s been 25 years since I’ve had driver’s ed and I know the rules & laws have changed a lot in those years. The strange thing about Washington State, and perhaps all states, is that there isn’t a
re-testing exam required. Once you have a license, that’s it. Seems foolish.

Another funny little safety tip: I had just gone grocery shopping so I had two gallons of milk and about five bags of groceries in the cab with me. Whereas if they were in the bed, they would have been scattered hither and yon but because they were in the cab, I not only was able to retrieve everything, they probably kicked my ass as we went over. As D said "Nothing like a gallon of milk to the ribs for happy fun time."

Funny Aside: The Mad Genius was feeling the bumps on the back of my head the other night. He slid his fingers gently over the bump, looked at me sagely and murmurs “Peas” then turns away. That was one of the funniest comments of this whole adventure.

Oh, and we had the Doogie Howser of tow truck drivers. (You can see him in the pictures) Dude didn’t seem old enough to have his driver’s license, let alone operate a tow truck. But he did a good job. He even got the sarcastic irony of me mentioning that he had a back-up light burnt out. Yeah, me – the one upside down over the embankment – reminding him that he had equipment failure. Good one!

Oh, and there are just so many levels to this story…

I called the accident in to 911. They had an officer call me back as it was a non-injury accident. He asked me if the vehicle was drivable. After a pause, I replied “It’s on its lid, Dude.” There was another pause and then an audible, long sigh “I’ll be there in a minute…” (Can’t blame him, we live 20 minutes away from everything)

AND THEN, he was a little late getting there. He explained as he began the paperwork”
“I’m sorry I was slow getting here. I arrested a drunk driver.”
I told him “Good Job! Thank You! You can be late for that.”
“Well it’s a funny thing.” He says. “He pulled up to me with a question. I was finishing washing my rig and he drove up. He had a question about his muffler, which he had cut completely off because he had a “fix-it” ticket. Turns out he was drunk. So that was easy.”

Hmmm, I think that’s all there was to the story…like that wasn’t enough!

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling, Rawhide! Hey, I can get that as a license plate. FUNNY!

Psych 101

In terms of human interaction, my job here at the YW is not all that different than at the school. At the school, I dealt with children ages birth to school age. Here, it seems, I deal with adults whom have similar traits to birth to school age children. Often, I find myself using the same skills. Sometimes it is jumper negotiation and sometimes it’s bordering on time-out techniques.

I find myself in an 8-hour long, five day a week psychology experiment. I feel as if I am a PSYCH 101 student, diagnosing everyone around me. Manipulation! Passive Aggressive! Addict behaviors!

There are always multiple levels of investigation that happens during my interactions with these women. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, there are always three sides to every story. Many times, patience is called for. Wait for it and the true story will come forward. Wait for it and the real personality will present itself.


Some of the people that cross through these doors it is obvious why they are here. Others not so much, but like in a messed-up human poker game, they usually end up showing their hand. Sometimes, the women are just victims of bad luck; everything has dominoed in a negative way and they end up here. Quite often, however, it is mental illness that eventually lands them here.

Daily, we find ourselves on the constant alert for little clues, evidence left behind if you will. Changes in appearance or attitude, changes in routine, interpreting comments made that seem offhand but are actually, usually, hints. Insights on what they're up to, where they've been or where they're going. Literally and figuratively.

I am not always privy to their history and personal information so I am on constant watch for little clues. Little habits or comments to clue me into as to why they are here and who they are. Also, little observations can also help in determining their success here. What may sometimes seem like an inconsequential comment or action can suddenly become a major factor in a later incident. It’s quite often mining through the BS.

Another school correlation is that their friends will often narc them out if they’re breaking the rules. And like children in a preschool setting, there is often bullying and tattling. This is where I am part detective and part referee; sorting through fact from fiction.

I've learned quite a lot about human behavior in the months I've been here. It makes me wish I'd kept my Psych 101 textbook.

Let's Go Swimming

This photo was just given to the YW...it was taken in the 1930's.
I haven't got a comment, just thought it was cool.

I Love Andrew Sullivan

I realize it's a love that will never be. He's gay, I'm not, He's conservative, I 'm not. But I am in love with him.

http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/

Sweet Nectar of the Gods

It is a stereotype that all people from the Pacific Northwest are coffee addicts. I would say that it wasn't always the truth but it sure seems as such now. Even I, a long-time, adamant, non-coffee human, have developed a penchant for iced mochas. It hasn't reached the Britney level of consumption yet, but I could see where that could easily happen.

Here there is a coffee stand every few blocks. You can always find coffee, all hours of the day. In fact, living out in the sticks like I do, I have not one but two coffee stands less than two minutes from here. Amazing. And some of the stand’s names are amazingly clever: Brewed Awakening, I Wanna Mocha, Latte Dah, Cool Beans.

And Barista’s are always friendly and happy to see you. The Mad Genius likens them to strippers: they are nice to you in order to get good tips and they are always good looking. However, once you establish a relationship (yes, I said relationship) they become your friends. They know what you drink, they know which vehicle you drive, and they know your schedule. (Well, this makes them sound more like stalkers or dealers but roll with me here) They become your friends. Coffee stands have become the new “Cheers”, where everybody knows your name.

Anyone who would question such a habit, or behavior, should live here for a while. You endure 7 straight days of rain and gray. You endure having the sun beginning to go down at 3:00 pm and not rise again until nearly 8:00 am. Then you can judge me. Coffee can be compared to a simple ray of sunlight in a dreary world, a reason to get up in the morning.

Now, even high-schoolers and middle-schoolers have coffee. It’s become an issue in schools, teachers complaining that the kids can’t concentrate for the liquid crack that is coursing through their veins. This I agree with. I can feel the hit coffee gives me, I can’t imagine what it would do to a growing body. Often you see cars waiting in line and the kids are excited to get hot chocolate (I am assuming) and the dogs are happy to get treats.

Everyone is happy at a mocha stand.

When we were in Vegas Baby, there were no coffee stands. I would have thought that there would be one every ten feet, anything to keep gamblers awake and moving. But there wasn’t. There was, however, Starbucks in most casinos. (Make your own conclusions there) In fact, the Stratosphere has one in the lobby, God bless them. Starbucks was my salvation during our trip there. As I am not, not, not a morning person and I don’t drink alcohol, Starbucks became my lifeline. A little taste of home as well.

What I would say to anyone who thinks we’re being silly, I would suggest having an iced mocha the next time you’re having a rotten day. Just try it. I bet your mood improves.

It will be the best $3.50 you’ve ever spent.

Adventures with My Father

I recently went on a field trip with my father to the doctor office. As he's still in an extended care facility, we had to take the dial-a-ride. (public transportation for elderly & disabled)

As luck would have it, the driver is a neighbor of my parents. A neighbor my dad hasn't met yet. As he has always lived on the Lake, he knows many people that live out there.

In a lull of conversation, after comparing neighbors, property taxes, etc, my dad decides to bring up the fireworks.

I just thought to myself. "Great, dad, can we talk about that? Remember when we blew up? Yeah, good times."

I know in his weird little way, he was bragging about his kids and by extension: himself but jeez.
I know! Let's talk about losing all of your kids in one fell swoop, shall we?

The driver was appropriately sympathetic and interested while I tried to think of anything else to say to steer the conversation out of the skid.

Tact and my dad. Not two things that often collide .

I just realized, I forgot to share this story with the brothers. I'll email it to them. They'll love this one. Just one more anecdote in the ongoing adventure of Aging Parents. Stay tuned. There will be more, I promise.

Siriusly

If you haven't gotten Sirius Radio yet, what is stopping you? The MG gave me a home/car unit for Christmas and it is the Best Thing Ever. Well, no, I still stand by my original proclamation that the cell phone is the best thing ever This is the second best thing ever.

There is a station for every mood ever. Any generation of music that you can think of. NPR, Howard Stern (hey, how often do you see those two things in a sentence together?) There is a station called "Coffeehouse" that is practically narcotic. It has acoustic music and sometimes it has songs you would never imagine acoustically arranged. (Collective Soul! Police!)

C'mon, all the cool kids are doing it....

I Believe

With the recent elections, a person's religious beliefs have been topic of conversation. Also, with making new friends, one of whom is an Atheist and another whom is Jewish, we have had conversations centered around religious beliefs. I've had to define who and what I've believe in like no other time in my life. Thus the following:

As mentioned before, I have no religious affiliation. The first church I went to was the Church of Nazarene. I went there with my brother because it was in the neighborhood, not because there was any religion allowed in the house. Any religious education I’ve received has been self sought and self taught.

As a child, I also attended summer bible school at a Presbyterian church. I went to church with catholic friends. I've faithfully attended both Lutheran and Christian Reformed churches as an adult. According to Beliefnet.com's Beliefometer, I might be Jewish. According to a game on Facebook, I am agnostic.

I guess one could say that I've cherry-picked my religious beliefs.

When I was small, I used to play with Fisher Price Little People. That is often how I imagined God when I was a child. Now, I can also picture him like Bruce Almighty, with a never-ending email list of prayers and requests.

I read bible passages every day in my email. Music is my church choir, be it Josh Turner singing about "Me and God" or U2 singing about anything. I talk to God when I'm angry, when I'm sad, and when I'm happy. He would probably appreciate me shutting up some days.

I believe in guidance but not in blind following. I don't need a building, or a book, or a person to tell me who or how to be. It's solely my decision and it's going to be solely my responsibility in the end.

I love Max Lucado and Robert Fulguhm but I also love Howard Stern and Lewis Black. They aren’t mutually exclusive. I can listen to Eminem and Christmas carols. I know the verses equally.

A few other random beliefs:

I believe in a pastor that will have us over for dinner and go for a ride in a racecar. I believe in a pastor that admits he'd rather be fishing too.

I think the church is the perfect place to blast "Come Together" by the Beatles.

I believe fellowship can be found anywhere. I am not a heathen because I don't enter four hallowed walls every Sunday.

I believe that you don't have to check in with God only on Sunday. He doesn't keep office hours.

I love that the Da Vinci Code freaked out the Vatican. Even if people didn't believe the premise, it made them think.

I believe in the God that deals in love and forgiveness, not in fear and hate.

I see God in the eyes of a child or an elderly person. I see God in the sunset. I see God when someone holds the door open for you at the store.

I think we do pass over to another place. Every thing in life is cyclical, why not death?

I believe in some form of the Devil. There is no other explanation for cancer, mental illness and addiction. Those things are hell on earth.

I believe in swearing, but not taking the Lord’s name in vain. You can’t use his name to damn the broken sink and then ask him to help fix it. But I do think he can appreciate a good curse when the pipe breaks.

I think the Catholic Church and Scientology are corporations, not religions. I believe Jehovah's Witnesses are just mean, angry people that use religion to make it a way of life. I am incredulous that anyone could practice any of those religions.

However, no matter what religion exists, there will always be extremists.

I am pro-choice, but don't believe in abortion as birth control.

I am pro-death penalty but only with DNA evidence.

I believe Pot should be legal but not glorified.

I am not anti-gun, I am anti-weapon. There is no reason to own an AK-47.

I believe in civil rights but stereotypes are there for a reason.

I believe sex offenders should be locked up forever. Period.

I believe if you go to a church that has to be held in an auditorium or stadium you are going to a performance, not a church service.

Why are there protests outside abortion clinics and not IVF Clinics? Isn’t each one acting as God in some way?

Why do they always say "The bible says Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve"? Why not Ada and Eve? Why is it whenever someone has issues with homosexuality, it is usually regarding men?

The 10 Commandments does not address homosexuality but it sure says "Do Not Judge" pretty clearly.

Who do atheists talk to in the middle of the night? Who do they ask for right before the car crash?

If the answer is No One, then that's really very sad. And difficult to believe.

I believe God has a sense of humor. I believe he does things sometimes just to f#$% with people. I believe God doesn't like arrogance and he will eventually step on your head for it.

I believe in spirits, angels or whatever you choose to call them. I’ve had too many cosmic gentle nudges to deny their existence.

I believe God puts people in our paths for specific reasons, good and bad. Everything happens for a reason, whether we like it or not.

Simply put: I believe.

It's a Hair Dryer

I have a grand-nephew. I am also his Godmother. Unlike most parents, my niece (in-law) seems to take this seriously and often asks for advice, guidance or whatever. Mostly I have complied with little restraint. However, there are some issues where I have held my tongue and this story is the combination of both issues.

On Christmas, my nephew showed me a toy gun. " I got it for Christmas!" It was more of an acknowledgment than an exclamation. Without thinking, I replied "Oh, that's too bad."
I am not anti-gun, per se, but I am anti-weapon when it comes to children. This is where I part ways with the nephews parents.

MG and his brother heard me say what I said and kind of laughed. One of them asked "You know why he has that don't you?" I shook my head and steeled myself for the explanation.

His parent are worried that he is too girly. He plays with dolls too much. So they bought him a gun to play with. My head reeled.

In a non-too-quiet voice, I replied "Well, you know what? If he is gay and there's NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT, it will just become a Hair Dryer, so that doesn't quite work out does it?"

I think for his birthday, I am going to buy him a beauty shop playset. If only to counteract the idiocy and my own personal entertainment. Jeez, in the name of Cher and all that's Holy.

Go Seahawks!

Ann Coulter is the Anti-Christ

I am not a huge Christian, I am not affiliated with any religion actually. However, I do believe that the Devil or Dark Spirit does inhabit here on earth in varying forms. In this case, I believe that it is in the form of Ann Coulter.

The only explanation I can find for her, other than she is Lucifer in a female body, is that she must be filled with self-hatred. Now to go all Dr Phil on you, how can a woman believe the things she purports to believe. Everything that she stands for is against women.

Perhaps she is transgender....now if you are a tranny, please don't think that I am equating the devil with transgender people. That is SO not my point. I think she must hate every single fiber of her own being. She is so filled with hatred, a person can feel it through a medium such as television. Thus the transgender idea. Did Lucifer punish her by putting her in female form? If so, good one Lucifer!

Why this rant today? I was in Barnes & Noble and on the end of the shelf was one of her "books" I write books in quotation marks because I cannot conceive to categorize her writings with anything remotely considered as literature.

It took everything in me to not go borrow a sharpie from the customer service desk and just black out the entire cover of the book. Instead, I eyerolled and huffed in disgust as I walked by. I realized as I was leaving the store, I could have just removed the book from the end of the shelf and hidden it , oh under the books shelves. Or at least, turned the cover in so that no one could see it.
Now I want to go back. Dammit Ann Coulter!

Dance like there's no one watching

I had been doing this job for a minute, perhaps a few hours when I received a call inquiring about rental of the ballroom that is in this beautiful, old building.

I had to kind of bluff my way through the process as I hadn’t been trained on what to do in this situation. Little did I know I would be whisked into a Lifetime Movie special as this gentleman began to tell me his story.

He wanted to rent the ballroom for his 40th Wedding Anniversary. He wanted to schedule a catered party for him and his wife. “Well, catered by my sons” he says, with a sheepish giggle. When I questioned the need for such a large space for just one couple, he told me this story:

He was just stationed at Whidbey Island NAS. He’d gotten in that day, been processed, and only wanted to sleep. He crawled into his bunk and “The next thing I knew, I was on the floor.”

His newfound buddies woke him up by dumping him out of his bunk. They wanted to go party. As he was the only one with a car, he was unceremoniously elected to drive. He told them to go away (I am sure he cleaned up his actual response as he was talking to a lady) but they persisted. Finally, he decided to go.

They made the journey up to Bellingham, quite the drive back in the day.

He found out later that his wife also needed cajoling to come to the dance. She lived even further away than the Naval base and was reluctant to go to a dance where she didn’t know anyone. Her best friend, whom worked at the YW, was persistent and harassed her into going.

As the men (probably still boys, really) entered the ballroom, the dance was already well underway. He could obviously still picture it clearly as he described that there were tables lined with food along the wall, tables in the corner, a dance floor and small band.
He described the setting much like a junior high school dance: boys on one side of the room and girls on the other.

His friends immediately went to the food then sat down to eat. “You drug me all the way up here and you’re not going to dance with girls?” he reportedly said to them. They shrugged and continued to eat, ignoring his frustration.

He spun on his heel, surveyed the room, and spotted a girl. Walking across the ballroom, he approached a group of girls. He stuck his hand out to his future bride and asked her to dance. Surprised, she turned around to look if he was asking someone else. “I’m asking you” he said.

He took her hand and led her to the dance floor and they spent the remainder of the evening dancing and talking. They’ve been together ever since.

It just simply isn’t fair to make a girl cry on her first day of a job. But it’s a wonderful story and I love to be able to pass it along. He obviously loved telling the story as well, and I can picture kids and grandkids listening in rapture as he told it through the years.

Here is a picture of the ballroom, probably much like it was at the time:

Live Well, Laugh Often and Love Much. Dance as if there’s no one watching.