Blowing sh*t Up

For those of us that are just joining, I am a licensed pyrotechnician. I do commercial fireworks displays. The picture above was in the Skagit Valley Herald in 2006. I was standing underneath all of those sparks! Also, the profile picture that I have was from the same show, just a different photo.

Last year, we had a terrible accident that severely injured my eldest brother and minorly injured the crew, including myself. It was a freak accident, nothing we did caused it.
Here is the news link: http://www.komonews.com/news/8318837.html

((My brother is now fully recovered. He has a six-inch plate in his arm and his burns are all healed))

On Friday, it will be the one year anniversary of blowing up. It's with sadness that we're not doing the firework shows any more. It was with great soul-searching that we each made our decisions. Our parents and families all requested that we no longer do it and it's difficult to tell them no. My sixteen year old niece wrote a poem for school about the accident that I could only bear to read once. After that, my decision was made.

Yet, a part of me is breaking. This is the first time in I don't know how long that I won't be doing fireworks on some level. I am at a loss.

Wait. Let me back up a bit. A little history:

My dad began doing fireworks before I was born. 1963. It began as a lark: two men, drinking, (of course) and shooting off fireworks on a little dock in the middle of the lake. Forty-five years later, it grew to a crew of 8 and a $10,000 budget.

Both of my brothers grew up with the show. Each of them hold licenses since they were 18. I remember being about 9 and sitting on an equipment box, watching for sparks. My dad started us early!

The crews consist of friends and spouses. My crew is my husband, my brother-in-law, my nephew and two of my oldest & dearest friends. You didn't date one of us kids without getting roped into a least trying it. Understandably, many of our friends declined our offers to go "blow shit up" as we fondly refer to it.

But this year, we sit on the shore and watch.

So, in trying to lighten my heart here are a few stories about fireworks:

I finally got my license in 2000. I hadn't needed it until then but we were busy enough that I had my own shows so a license was required. My brothers and I were eating dinner about three hours before the show at the kitchen table. Strangely, there was no one else about. Usually there are tens of people hanging around. Little Brother (as I call him even though he's five years older) mentioned casually "Well, because you have your license now, I am going to stay on shore." Oh, okay. No big deal. Brother Dear (my eldest brother by 10 years...the name is from the Snoopy cartoons) then leans back and says "Yeah, I guess I am too." Wait. What??
I've had my license a month, I am not comfortable on water and they're both staying on shore!?!?! WTH! I look up and they're both grinning. The torch had been passed.
So, out we went. My first solo show and it's the biggest show we have. Yeah. No Pressure.

As we are being towed out to the middle of the lake, a barrel that keeps the dock afloat popped out from underneath the dock and floated away. I am trying not to have a panic attack when my friend Brad runs to the front of the dock and yells "ICEBERG! DEAD AHEAD!"
I laughed so hard I thought I was going to wet myself.
And the show went fine. The brothers were proud.

My favorite show is at a speedway. There are 12,000 people in the crowd and it feels like you can look them all in the eye, they are so close. The show is choreographed to music. It took us a few shows to get used to it but eventually we found our groove. The last show we did there I realized that we had figured it out when I heard the crew singing along as we shot the show.
(also during that show, someone sneezed and we all called out "Bless You!" ;-)

Way back in the day, we did a show in the middle of a cow pasture. (Glamourous, huh?)
One of our friends set up a stereo, unbeknownst to us, and as the show began I heard the beginning of the theme of Mission Impossible. Standing in the middle of a dark field and hearing the music play, I thought I was losing my mind but I turned to see the speakers and laughed out loud.

And we've done plenty of shows in the rain. The worst by far was at the same speedway. It was so slippery we couldn't stand, couldn't walk. Everyone was essentially Army-crawling to get the show finished. By the end, we were caked in clay. We were laughing so hard that we couldn't catch our breath. Imagine, we all wear white cover-alls (we look like Oompa-Loompas) I had to throw away my boots because they were beyond cleaning.

So, I am sure that we'll be telling these stories - and more - on Friday. If I have more pictures, (happy ones) I will post them.

While you're watching fireworks this year, think of me! I'll be somewhere pouting. (:-O

Big Ol' Pay It Forward Contest

Good Morning All,

My BFF Swistle came up with a great idea of a Pay It Forward Contest. I am, as usual running behind.

I will offer up to the winner some sort of wonderful prize, or shall I say surprise? The key is, you get to pay it forward! Fun! Everyone wins!

The contest ends on Friday July 4th. The way to enter is to leave a comment, say um...a lyric to your fave song?

And check this out because I'm not awake yet:

http://swistle.blogspot.com/2008/06/group-effort-its-time.html

C'mon everyone! Jump in! The water's warm!

Grocery Elf

I met the strangest little man yesterday at the grocery store. He was my checker. Friendly enough, kind of small-ish, gave a sprite-like vibe.

I gave him the mesh bags to use and he set one up in the cart. "Watch This!" he announces. "I've learned a trick"

He set the mesh bag in the cart and then takes a paper bag and inserts it into the mesh bags. "This makes it easier!" he proclaims. While I'm mentally thinking "Well, that kind of undoes the purpose of the bags..." he mentions "And you can just leave them in there!" Oh, well, okay then.

So he merrily checks my groceries. Complete with dropping some of the grapes on the ground. He picks them up, brushes them off gently and says "It's okay, they're not quite wine yet." By now I'm begging silently to be home.

He finishes up and while doing so, calls out hello to another customer. As I am gathering my receipt, he leans toward me conspiratorially and whispers "See that guy back there? I know him, he's a regular."

So, I brush my hair out of my eyes, in the guise of being to look at that guy. He seems perfectly normal.

"I couldn't remember his name" the sprite continues "and I had to figure out a way to remember it. Know how I did it?" I shook my head, he had my attention now.

"His name is Howard. Howard the Duck!" And he smiles triumphantly.

"Oh, that's a great idea!" I smile and walk away.

The sprite merrily continued to the next customer. The strangest people get dropped in my path lately.

Rules of Attraction

Based on the Unusual Crushes post, this topic has grown:

There are levels of attractiveness, I think. Stereotypes or archetypes, really. Here are some categories that I can think of:

Greek God - so good looking he's unreal. (Brad Pitt, for example)

Bad Boy - there's mischief in his eyes. (lead singer of Maroon 5, David Beckham)

Everyday, Nice Guy - he always is married to a bitch, why is this?

Smart-hot - John Stewart, Anderson Cooper

The Funny guy - not necessarily cute but the engaging humor makes him attractive.

Nerdy - Sheldon on The Big Bang Theory - he's just so endearing.

Dressed Up - something about being in a tux or suit that can up the attractiveness quotient. (although I'm generally attracted to working men versus businessmen) This is like the Bar Girl attractiveness however -she's only hot with the make-up, hair, Wonderbra and tight clothes. Not so much in her sweats and no make-up. This one can backfire.

Working Men: Levi's and workboots, my fave. (guess what my husband does for a living?)

Uniforms. Firefighters, need I say more? (but does not include Psycho Border Guards :-)

Ugly-hot: This is for my friend D who thinks Benicio Deltoro is hot.

Retirement

I realized the other day that I am retired. Wait, what? Yep, retired. That label applies to me.

With that whole blowing up thing last year, I've retired from being a pyrotechnician. This breaks my heart. With the season rapidly approaching, I find myself wistful. While I know that it's a mature decision to retire, there's a part of me that wants to stamp my feet and protest. I am not ready to retire!

And, a few years ago I retired from my job. Well, I can look at it as a retirement now, just not then. But it was as such. I'm not returning to that field again. I feel too old to pursue that job any longer. Viola: retirement! (how's that for re-visualization?)

The MG is seven years older than me. This means he will be eligible to retire seven years before me. Hopefully, this won't be an issue at that time. Hopefully I will be an established author by then. But it's amazing to me that the issue is beginning to loom on the horizon. Remember? Remember when we were 20? Those were good times.

I guess it's good that I am doing it in small steps then. Less of a brutal reality. I'm sneaking up on it. Yeah, that's it.

((I'm still pouting))

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.