A Swift Kick & A Band-Aid

Standing Outside The Fire

After much prodding from my dad, I finally broke down and bought one of those fire safes that's supposed to offer a half hour of protection for whatever items of value that you can fit in the heavy little sucker.

I have always seen the value in them, to a degree, but I never really thought I had anything worth putting in one. Boy was I wrong. I'm finding all kinds of important things to put in there.

And graduation money I forgot I had ... score!

Would You Be The Soundtrack of My Life?

I took a page out of the blogosphere's very own Mr. Hospitality's book this weekend and hosted a blogmeet at home.

It was a fantastic turnout. The usual suspects graced my humble abode, I finally got to meet Professor Chaos, Sabre (and her friend), Lysander's other half, and even host a couple tykes.

Of course there was more food than anyone could possibly eat ... cuz duh, feeding people is what I do (wings anyone?) ... plenty of interesting conversation to go around ... the obligatory twat talk that comes with having a gyn as a friend ... and an amazing recitation of Office Space

I think I just might do this again, what do you say guys? I'll even try to plan a surprise guest for the next one.

I Ain't Gonna Worry and I Don't Have To Be Anywhere

I wish I could say it ain't my day to care, but I'm not there just yet. Give me a couple more days, hopefully just til mid-day tomorrow, and I'll be set for a while.

I came home to a bunch of last minute fix-its that I should have taken care of before I left, but I put them off. So today is a bit of panic, but I think I have myself organized well enough that the stress is probably unwarranted.

The burial was very brief and very good for all of us. Her casket was perfectly her, elegant and simple, cream with pink accent flowers painted on it. The cemetary was beautiful with flowers decorating nearly every gravemarker as far as you could see. And greatest of all, she is back with her son Kevin that died as a young child.

Times like the past couple of days in rural Indiana are almost enough to make me wish I were even less of a city girl. Friends of hers opened up their home to the entire family and friends they'd never met. We all had supper and dinner together. We had the freshest garden food and desserts only country hands could dream of making. There was a love and tenderness among strangers that I can't say I've felt in any recent memorable past.

It was exactly what her small town soul would have wanted.

I Don't Think Guests Are Coming This Time

Ok, Kiddies ... I'm out ... again

Not for quite as long this time, but for another funeral ... ugh

Be good and send some happy thoughts to AWTM, she's having a shitty time of it today (hehe, sorry ... I couldn't help it ...)

I don't think you'll be graced with any guests this time. Sorry.

Alone and Far From Home I'll Find You

I had a hard time sleeping last night. I kept having dreams about people being mad at me. I woke up feeling like I wanted to cry.

Then I found out that my last childhood pet went blind over the weekend. My poor kitty is finally finding his end after two years with kidney problems. He will be at the vet this afternoon, but I don't think it will be long before my mom puts him down.

It just seems like death after disappointment after death after disappointment after death after disappointment these days.

So I'm stuck sitting here today torn between feeling sorry for myself that so much saddness could be dumped on one family in such a short period of time and being grateful for having my saddness group itself in waves instead of having to face it time and time again.

Some days just call for a drink

More Loss

I just found out that my great aunt lost her battle with heart trouble this morning. She was on the transplant list, but that miracle didn't come soon enough for her.

And a few days ago, a girl I used to call my best friend lost her dad after a long struggle with lukemia.

It has been a tough year.

I Dig The Attitude & How You Actin' Like You Own The Bar

Oh I’m sorry, my name is Travey and I’m pretty much a big deal
Oh, you never heard of me?
Hmm, that sounds absurd to me.

Or NOT.

Honestly, this pompous crap dudes pull could not be more of a turn off. Oh and by the way, it doesn't pass for confidence either.

I don't care what kind of cell phone you have, who's on the other end, where your business card says you work, who your last girlfriend was, what kind of car you drive, or who made your clothes ... okay?

If your entire identity can be summed up in a series of commercial labels, do yourself a favor and keep walking ... cuz I ain't havin one more minute of it.

Gotta Pick Myself Up, Where Do I Start

I think here would be nice ...

Miss you, LJ!

Empty Houses

I'm bored ... and RSM isn't home ...

I'm having way more fun blogging over at his place ... go check it out

Move Over Godfathers

When I was a kid, I loved taco pizza from Godfathers Pizza. Within a 50-mile radius, I can’t find a damn one of those restaurants now. So a couple nights ago, I endeavored to make my own …

Taco Pizza
1 unbaked pizza crust (from a can, cuz I’m lazy)
1 sm can of Mexican tomato sauce (Goya or Pato, slightly spicy)
1 lb lean ground beef
1 packet taco seasoning
¼ cup water
2 cups shredded cheese (Mexican blend pref)
3-4 sm handfuls of white corn chips, lightly crushed (not thin restaurant style ones)
1-2 cups of fresh style salsa (like pico de gallo)
1 handful of chopped tomatoes
1 can sliced black olives
Shredded lettuce, enough to cover the whole pizza

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Line a jellyroll pan/cookie sheet with sides with foil and lightly spray with nonstick spray. Gently press pizza dough into the pan, attempting to create sides that will hold the toppings in. Bake for 8 minutes (Follow the specific instructions on the pizza crust of your choosing).*

While the crust is baking, brown ground beef. Add seasoning packet and 1/4c of water. The powdered seasonings will need to dehydrate, so add more water if necessary, but the meat should not end up with much liquid.

Remove pre-baked crust from the oven. Pour Mexican tomato sauce onto crust and spread evenly to the edges. Repeat with the seasoned meat mixture. Sprinkle 2/3 of the cheese evenly as the next layer. Add a layer of crushed corn chips. Sprinkle about half of the remaining cheese over the chips. Return the pizza to the oven for another 6-8 minutes, or until crust is brown and cheese is bubbly.

Allow the pizza to sit and cool for a few minutes before continuing.

Spread salsa over the top of the pizza, taking care to separate the salsa from its liquid. Top the salsa with a dense layer of shredded lettuce. Add chopped tomatoes and black olives, to taste. Finish with the last bit of shredded cheese.

Cut and serve. For an extra bit of spice and taco flavor, top slices with a dash of hot sauce. Also good is a hint of ranch or sour cream.

I promise, you will not be disappointed by this pizza.** It wasn’t Godfather’s exactly but it was so tasty I don’t care. And it totally kicks ass cold the next day!

*For a thicker crust, use a smaller pan. Using a pizza stone, deep dish pan will work just fine. If your crust starts as a ball of dough, make the pizza whatever shape you like – being careful not to overwork it.

**Remember, its pizza … you can make it however you like your pizza because there are not rules in this game. Try adding diced chilis to the meat or hot sauce to the tomato sauce or jalapenos to the salsa for more kick.

Life Is Perfectly Still

It dawned on me this evening as I sat here wondering what to do with myself in the midst of a summer thunderstorm … it has been six months … to the day.

No matter how many times I fly into town, make the trek to the house, sleep on the small, uncomfortable bed in the back bedroom, have an unhealthy breakfast in the kitchen, and open the window while I shower because there is no exhaust fan, it still feels like nothing has changed.

It isn’t until I walk into the living room and it seems oddly quiet that I notice something is amiss. When I walk into the master bedroom to investigate, I remember what it is. The police scanner is turned off. It has been off since February. No one is listening to the local boys in blue or their trouble making counterparts.

The tall, important looking bed is scattered with my dad’s papers and clothes. The back supporting pillows have been tossed aside, onto the floor. The folded blanket from the foot of the bed is in a pile on top of a chest nearby.

She is not propped up, resting in bed, crocheting something ornate. All of the signs of her … her essence … have been removed from her most personal and private place.

Then I know she is gone.

(I would have posted the song itself, but I'm too retarded to figure it out right now)

When I looked out today
And saw that the sky was gray
I thought about the way
You loved days like this

And driving in to town
It really started coming down
Bringing me back around
To all that I miss

It feels like it's rainin' you
It feels like it's rainin' you

I didn't even run inside
Or worry about staying dry
Besides there nowhere I can hide
These feeling now

Running down my face
Takes me to another place
I can't think of another way to drown

It feels like it's rainin' you
I can't explain it
But I am baptized anew
It feels like it's rainin' you

If I had my way
It would do this every day
I would never see the sun
Because the closest I get
To holding you again
Is every time that sky opens up

It feels like it's rainin' you
I can't explain it
But I am baptized anew
It feels like it's rainin' you
It feels like it's rainin' you

--Brad Paisley

I Don’t Blame You For Being You, But You Can’t Blame Me For Hating It

A friend told me today, “every family is like a soap opera,” which is probably true. He’s a smart guy so I’m pretty sure he knows what he’s talking about. It made me feel better to a point, but I’m still reeling from this whole Dad situation.

I am confrontational. I say things that people don’t want to hear. I get that.

I am emotionally impatient. I try to avoid sweeping things under the rug because they always come back, usually with a vengeance.

I want to deal with things when they happen. I want to nip it in the bud. I want it done and over with. Not swept away and “forgotten” only to be dredged up and piled upon.

I want to talk about miscommunications, misunderstandings, mistakes, and missteps. If I don’t see the other side and they don’t see mine, the problem will become chronic, I promise you.

I believe in accountability and responsibility. I will call people out on it, whether they like it or not. Generally they don’t. That’s fine.

I am overly honest. I am straight to the point. I am hard to take. I know this.

But to call me hateful, and to say I am mean-spirited is just plain imaginary. They are daggers of untruth for the sole purpose of inflicting pain (mission accomplished) and the words of a man with nowhere to go, with stones enough only to run away.

Mark the Places in My Book With Photographs We Never Took

Tonight is one of those nights that I am SO glad I have kept my blog away from family eyes. It a night filled with rediculous, unnecessary drama and thus blaring music aimed at drowning out the overabundance of anger I have toward my family right now.

I am convinced that maturity is entirely lost on my family members ... entirely

I wrote an e-mail to my brother asking for his address and got this in response:

Why does this matter to the Feds - are we even still related? Aren’t you legally emancipated from this family yet? I haven’t heard from you since your graduation - it would be nice to know what GF and I got you for your birthday . . .

I’m still here when you figure out that I’m not the enemy.

Now let's recap here ...
It is totally normal for my brother and I to go months without making contact with one another. We talk regarding holidays, family events, and when we will be in the same town together. We don't have a sharing, chatty relationship. What we know about the others business we learn through our parents. Its been this way for years. Why is it suddenly abnormal now?

And I'm pretty sure the phone and email work both ways. I don't recall leaving a communication unanswered. So, he's pointing a finger without having made an effort ... nice ...

Also of note - The last time I saw my brother was when he was flipping me off on the way out of town, following one of his temper tantrums that had carried over from 24 hours prior.

I think this left-field douche move would be one of many reasons we are not closer. But where do these moves come from? Dad, for one.

Dad is known for playing buddy-buddy with whomever he is talking to at the time. He makes psycho-analytical ventures about the other person's emotions or mental state, without ever trying to talk about things in a three-way conversation. This kind of behavior antagonizes the situation between my brother and me. It shores up the high and mighty routine that he so violently defends, creating even more animosity than there was to begin with. Dad is nothing more an enabler of the negative relationship he rails on us about.

But what happens when you call Dad on that? Bad things ...

Accountability is not something he wants to be faced with. Pursing it and expressing frustration over it got me one thing tonight. Rejected.

More specifically, my dad hung up on me. With all the maturity of a five year old running away from home. Hung up on his own daughter. Didn't answer again. Didn't call back.

My role model at work.

Headed For Court

I've made it back from Kansas City, safe and sound ... somewhat mentally worse for wear, but better in others. It was a rough week all around. Some of the family are still fighting with various stages of decomposition, I suppose you could say. Too much run around, too much lecturing, too much fighting, and too many tears.

Four days was plenty long enough - I left with an eye twitch (which commonly happens)

The good news of all of this is that we are now officially headed for court and I have an approximate date by which I get to see this murderous ugly mug go behind bars with a sentence on his head

Full story below the fold

PLATTE CITY, Mo. (AP) — A man charged with involuntary manslaughter as a result of a head-on collision that killed a woman could face 15 years in prison, the result of a stricter drunken driving law passed by the Missouri Legislature.
Todd N. Hickox, 37, of Platte City, was originally charged with leaving the scene of a motor vehicle accident, after colliding Saturday with a car driven by an 84-year-old woman from Leavenworth, Kan., Platte County Prosecutor Eric Zahnd said.
The woman was taken to Heartland Health Center where she was pronounced dead.
Zahnd said Hickox, who was found to have a blood-alcohol content nearly twice the legal limit, was charged Wednesday with involuntary manslaughter. He is being held in Platte County Jail on a $150,000 bond.
“Missouri law now allows us to get tough on repeat drunk drivers and people who kill someone in another car while they’re intoxicated,” Zahnd said.

Story published Feb 23, 2006 in the Kansas City Star Crime Blog

rideout arousal

well, tonight's the night. the culmination of all that is right in my world. tonight my fetish takes on new heights.

for all of you who don't read me, let me back up a step. i am a copaholic. there is no cure. it is a bad, bad, bad, bad, bad problem to have. you might ask how one finds themselves with such a pestiferous affliction, and i might tell you. but you'll have to ask nice, or use a little force, or if all else fails a round of good cop/bad cop will definitely get me singing like a canary.

what were we talking about? oh yeah, men in blue. it wasn't always like this. when i was younger, and up to no good, i really didn't enjoy the company of peace officers. if one were to pull me over then, my whole body would tremble in panic. more than just anxiety, there was a paranoia that came from knowing i was up to no good. that's right, i deserved more than a ticket and i knew it, so getting pulled over was never a pleasant experience.

not so anymore, now i'm impassioned by the lights and sirens--even when they aren't coming for me. the throbbing has moved south (i know, gross, but i speak the truth).

here's the short list of police turn-ons, you are welcome to add to the list in the comments:
1. they talk in code--women LOVE to talk, men don't. but cops, they're all about talking: here i am, here's where i'm going, here's what's happening, and here's what i'm going to need you to do. always communicating, rowr. 10 this and 10 that, oh yeah!
2. TWO sets of handcuffs! hey, if that doesn't do anything for you, check your pulse.
3. uniform. dark and buttoned down. yeah, even the ups man scores points in this category, but no uniform screams out to estrogen like a deep blue crisp collar and the bling of the badge.
4. night stick--being approached by a muscley lawdog with a giant phallus tucked in his belt, nuff said.
5. gun--appropriate at the jail or mcdonalds, they're always armed.
6. they put the refuse of society away-- ask any wife and the number one thing she'll tell you her husband does is take out the trash. cleanliness IS godliness and nothing cleans up a town like caging a bad guy. hawt.

oooof. i better get on with life. i've got a rideout with the 5-oh this evening, a qualifying chapter in my town's citizens' police academy. what were they thinking when they offered me membership? they did ask in the application process if i prefered to be called a nickname. it was tough, but i neglected to let them know that my good friends call me "copsucker".

ya'll be safe and be good now, or i'll come and get ya and make you comply.

Push the Button

Well, folks, the Princess is letting us sickies take over. I'm only maybe sick. But I figure as long as I have the chance I might want to get a few things ready around here. While I've got a few minutes before Army Wife gets here to house sit with me, let's see if we can't straighten up... ooh! Nail polish... that might come in handy...

Now, before she does get here, get the Godiva in the fridge and maybe try on set out the pink fluffy bathrobe.

I'm going to head on back to Cat's room... just to be sure things are alright, never know what her cat might get into in the closet... so if you hear AWTM come in, hit play on the DVD player... this should warn me distract her for a while and keep her from making up stuff about me.

In The Hands of Sickies

As I can tell, the sickie ones are going to be the primary watchers of the Cat House while I'm gone. Shoe has offered to check in on them from time to time, just to make sure no one dies on my couch or anything.

I've left plenty of DVDs (AWTM requested Avengers episodes, in case anyone was wondering), the vaporizer running, juices in the fridge, plenty of ice cream and popcicles in the freezer, chicken soup for their tired souls, and some tea to soothe their worries away.

So, I'm off to face Kansas ... and I leave you in the hands of the sickies ... hopefully everyone will be feeling better by the time I get back.

HelloGoodbye

With the obvious negative mood I've been under, I went looking for something to make me smile and bounce around my room like I so love to do.

I discovered the boppy, sometimes silly sounds of HelloGoodbye.** It was the first track, Here (in your arms), that sent me looking for them.

When I went looking for something mindless, it fit the bill perfectly (well at least on the first couple tracks) ... so I've been listening to them off and on the past two days.

If you're anything like me and need a stupid girl moment, check these boys out.


**Purevolume.com has a wide variety of music and genres where you can listen to full tracks for free. Well worth the look if you want to discover something beyond mainstream radio.

That White Trash Loser

I was doing laundry most of the afternoon and trying to mentally prepare for my trip, procrastinating on the packing thing because I hate doing it oh so much.

I'm discovering how sketched about seeing this criminal for the first time in person I really am ... almost six months to the day after he commited what I will always consider murder.

My family has seen him before, but I was unable to fly when the previous court dates were held. I have seen a picture of him, so I know what to expect ... a total white trash loser ... but that in person thing is just so much more powerful than a photo.

I couldn't hardly get out of bed this morning and I broke into tears tonight just thinking about how guarded I will have to be over the next several days.

I guess the stress of questioning the competency of the prosecution, anticipating the face-to-face I know I need to have, and psyching myself for this kind of family time is finally building up ...

Testing testing...

She's not gone yet, but it seems big sis' left me some keys around here.

Now... just to make things clear, certain Army Wives have been known to spread vicious rumors about me, but the only reason I had the heels on were she dared me and offered me $50. I tried to tell her my feet were too big, but no. When she wants something...

I'm not saying she has mob connections but apparently there is a ninja of sorts living in her household.

I'll stop in once in a while to check on the plants and see who else has been stopping in. I'd never go through the sister's closet, unless you ask me to.

Its Open

I'll be leaving town again this week to handle some Grandma stuff and all those lovely legal battles going on. I typically don't blog around family ... simply because they are snoopy and have no business nosing around these parts.

That is going to leave the Cat House a little empty and unoccupied.

So, I'm tossing out an open call ... who wants to hold onto a set of keys and keep her feeling lived in while I'm gone?

**I've already been rejected once ... don't make me bust out the sad face ...

Disconnects

Do you ever have one of those mornings where you just can't get your fingers to type the things that your brain is thinking?

I typed the correct username and incorrect password three times this morning ... in a row. I was thinking of the correct password, but my fingers kept autopiloting to the keys for a different one. Three different incorrect passwords, I might add.

As it was happening, I thought to myself, "why am I typing the wrong password?" But my fingers kept right on going ... they even jumped on the enter key before I could reign them in.

I think I must have a loose wire or something ... my brain needs a little jiggle.

That Biker Dude

In case you haven't noticed yet, there are posts up all over the 'sphere about a very elusive man running lose around the central and southern parts of the country. If you find him, please proceed with caution and do not attempt to approach him alone. He goes by the name of That 1 Guy.

Today is his birthday and he's getting all kinds of party suggestions. Who knows what kind of debauchery you'll get sucked into!

But I'm willing to brave the maddness for the sake of this fellow. So I say head on over, join in the fun, and wish him a happy birthday ... but you might want to take a buddy, just in case things get a little crazy. You know how these biker dudes can be ...

And don't forget to say hello to his girl for me too!

Resurgence of Douche

It has been re-confirmed ... there are some serious general douche bags circling around this poor country of ours.

How on earth have the twenty-somethings (and younger) gotten this far in life with such terrible social graces? Someone please tell me that they are going to hit the wall of reality sometime soon and fall flat on their asses. It is a most assuredly a pipe dream, I know … but can someone please just lie to me on this one?

Oh and while I’m asking questions, when did it become acceptable to treat your friends like disposable picnic wear because you didn’t get your way? Did I miss a memo somewhere? Apparently, I must have …

Today, a friend of mine invited his friend to hang out. Once his friend found out that I was going to be there as well he said, “Oh. Well then my roommate and I don’t want to come.” W.T.F. Over.

Just what exactly did I do to the Douche Twins to elicit such a response? Nothing.

I have known Douche Dude 1 for nearly as long as I have known my other friend. He and I have hung out in a variety of situations. He’s borrowed my car. He’s crashed on my couch while waiting for a house. We were never going to be best buddies, but I sure as hell thought we were at least cool with one another.

And his roommate? I thought that he and I got along decent enough. When the hell did things get so tense that he didn’t even want to go to the same damn movie? I tell you, I have no effing clue.

But as far as I’m concerned, it was rude and they are a giant set of Douche Twins. Do they not get that they told their own friend he had to decide who he wanted to hang out with more? Do they not get that they pulled some seriously immature moves?

I’ve heard more than one story tonight about stupid, immature “friendships” than I think I can take. And obviously this is some shit which has just irked me to the core. But I tell you, I just don’t get how people treat each other these days.

Maybe it will make more sense once I get my hands on that memo.

The Ranks Are Growing

Jazzy, one of my five loyal readers has finally decided to join the ranks of the 'sphere. He's set up an ecclectic little shop over at Dances With Squirrels, where you'll find a bit about world idiots, domestic oddities, and even a word or two about his life.

He's new to this funny little game we play, so be nice. Give him a read, a shove of encouragement, and maybe a little linky love (ahem, I said linky ... Harvey ... with an 'L' ...)

I think this one might actually stick with it ...

House Centipedes Must Die

I am aware that these little bastards are generally harmless but wtf are they doing in my house?

They are supposed to like dark, damp places ... my bedroom is anything but damp and dark. Remember ... I have an entire wall of window through with the fire of Hades warms my room to the temperature of the sun.

To get rid of them you're supposed to seal cracks in the walls. Well we sure do have our fair share of cracked walls (and doorframes) ... Not to mention windows with a layer of sand on the sills because they don't seal, a door with a gap that allows moisture into the entryway, and water damage on one of our ceilings ... I think I've figured out how they are getting in!

Seriously, I don't care how many spiders they eat ... in my house, they die!

Chicken Sausage w/ Leeks

Tonight's dinner was fantastic ... in a way that caught me completely off guard. I mean, fantastic!!

I don't really do recipes per se ... I'll take culinary suggestion from them ... but I was going on the fly with this one. I didn't really know what to expect and I was way outside my comfort zone on this main dish. But I'm telling you, it rocked!

Chicken Sausage w/Leeks

1 package of spiced apple chicken sausage, fresh (about 5 brat-sized sausages)
1 med Vidalia onion, sliced
2 leeks, sliced
1 med granny smith apple, peeled and sliced
1/4 c apple cider vinegar
3/4 c apple cider
1 trusty, handy-dandy cast iron skillet (or whatever it is that you use)

In a couple tablespoons of oil, brown the sausages over medium heat. Remove from the pan. Add onions and leeks, sauté until softened (about 5 mins) Add apples, sauté stirring constantly until soft (about 2 mins). Return sausages to the pan. Add apple cider vinegar and apple cider and continue cooking until sausages are done and the liquid has reduced by at least half.

Plate and serve!

So so yummy, tangy and sweet … Mmm Mmm!
And I have some for lunch tomorrow. ;-)

My full menu:
Chicken Sausage w/ Leeks
Polenta w/ Sundried Tomato & Basil Cheese
Cauliflower & Snap Peas

Camping With The Girls

I think I'm going to need to borrow ArmyWife's red tent for a few days. Normally, I'd say the tent is overkill for me, but this time, it might not be a bad precaution.

Last night, I was moody ... not bitchy or irritable ... Just plain moody. I have a lot on my mind and all of it just weighed with a terrible sadness.

I've been doing my best to keep it within the confines of my own personal space, but I think I've failed on a few occasions.

So perhaps today I will take with me to the confines of the tent a very comfy blanket, some pillows, and curl up in the corner with a movie sure to make me cry. Maybe I can flush out some of these demons out with a bought of overly dramatic tears brought on by just the right cinematic forumla of cheese, bullshit, and unlikely romance.

Maybe this is why I never go camping ...

That Magic Wand

At the risk of furthering the highly erroneous idea that I am a neat freak ... I feel the need to confess my sins of the day.

... I crevice tooled nearly my entire house ...

I pulled out all the vacuum attachments, made myself a magic wand of suction (wow, someone could go bad places with that one), snapped on the crevice tool, and away I went.

Room corners? Done
Baseboards? Done
Edges of the carpet? Done
Crown moldings? Done
Fireplace encasement? Done
Air vents? Done
Door frames? Done
Sliding glass door track? Done
Under the stove? Done
Under the fridge? Done

And then, yes ... there's more
... I dusted/cleaned every neglected thing in the house ...

All the usual stuff? Done (duh)
Chair rail? Done
Stupid inset wall panels? Done
Evil decorative wood going up the stairs? Done
Banisters? Done (btw, these were the nastiest part of the whole day ... hand grime like you wouldn't believe!)

If my room weren’t still so cluttered up, I'd think I'm turning a little OCD. I'm telling you, today was a scary day ...

The Power of Showing Up

I've spent some time lately explaining to a newcomer in this realm the hows and whys of my thought processes and actions. It got me to thinking about my time in New York and how much my mom just didn't understand about me.

It was Fleet Week. What girl doesn't love fleet week? Men in uniform ... YUM!

In our planning, the Fleet Week events and visiting ships kept getting pushed out farther and farther. I kept emphasizing to my mom that attending events and/or visiting the ships was something I really wanted to do. She did the "ok ok, we'll get to it" that we've all heard before.

Finally she got so frustrated by my daily insistance that she burst out with, "you lived in San Diego for six years, haven't you seen enough? Is there something you need to see that you don't already know about?"

And there was her mistake ... She only heard the what and she didn't understand the why.

I stopped her on the corner and had her look across the street. I said, "Do you see those two people right there? They are the reason I want to go to Fleet Week. They are the reason I need to go to Fleet Week. And they are the reason I think we should go to Fleet Week."

Those two people were anti-war protestors passing out stickers and shouting to people about their negative messages as they passed by.

But she still didn't get it ... so I continued ...

"Mom, the people getting off the ships are going to see these people and who knows how many more people like them. Some of them are probably being 'welcomed' home by these messages ... by messages that are as least supportive as they could possibly be ... toward people who get shot at, blown up, and witness death as a job.

When they get home and its just them and their thoughts, is that what you want them to think about? That the only people who took the time to recognize them and their efforts were the people against them? Because I promise you, there aren't nearly as many people openly saying 'thank you' or 'job well done' or even 'glad to have you home' as there are these disgraceful ones.

The people getting off these ships aren't going to see that tattered flag you have tied to your second car's antenna or that magnet you keep intending to buy but just haven't gotten around to yet. But what they will see is you clapping your hands at one of their concerts or shows, or touring one of their ships, or learning about their equipment. They will see you taking an interest when you show up to Fleet Week. They will see that there are still Americans that believe in their purpose and their mission. They will see that the pride they have in themselves is also found in the people they represent ... because you took the time to show up.

They might not say anything about it to anyone else, but how do you feel when you put together an event and no one shows up?"

July 4, 2006 - Part II

My day certainly did not turn out at all how I had intended it to.

My original plans were to go with two friends and join the masses of tourons (tourists, to those of you who aren't local) for fireworks on The Mall. Last night, my girl called and cancelled on me. I called this morning to try to talk her into it but she wasn't having it. So, since she was bummed, I said we'd hang at her place. She wasn't having that either. Well shit ... these two were damn near the only ones in town and they were bailing on me. WTF?

Instead ...

I had Mexican food, rolled in some dirt, almost got killed, bleached the crap out of my kitchen, had Japanese food, discussed vaginas, and THEN got to watch fireworks.

Now for the longer version ...

The back up plan for the day was to go to the Marine Corps War Memorial (better known as the Iwo Jima statue) to watch the sunset parade with the Commandant's Own and the Silent Drill Team. And then either watch fireworks from there or catch some elsewhere in the city.

That plan also failed.

On the way there I got some Baja Fresh to go. I grabbed a seat on the ground with a great dead-on view of the statue and started on my late lunch/early dinner. The weather was looking nasty but they put the band on anyway. Not 20 mins after I got there and only one song into the performance, they cancelled the rest of the parade due to incliment weather. No silent drill team for me ... :-(

The weather was more than incliment ... walking back to the metro I had lightening strike in front of me closer than I can ever remember being to it. So, we took a short little jaunt into the drug store and waited ... as the bottom of the sky dropped out. Immediate downpour and hail was all you could see outside. Once it stopped, I went home.

But not all was lost ... I called up my old college roommate (who was headed to The Mall) and told her to head over to my place instead now that they had shut The Mall down as well. Unfortunately, that meant I had to quickly clean up the disaster that my house had become. I was in no mood to be made fun of for being a slob.

She showed up with one of her friends (no comments about the slobbiness of my house ... cool ... ) and we had Japanese food for dinner. She just graduated from Med School though ... and she's a gyno ... so we did a little twat talk too. Kind of odd, kind of not ... She's very open and very comedic about her chosen profession.

The fireworks finally rolled around and were most convenient ... all we had to do was sit in my condo parking lot. Sometimes, life really is just easy.

July 4, 2006

This is still one of my favorite holidays...

I miss the days as a kid when I would wake up early and watch the parade, making sure to get a good candy catching place right on the curb, then going to the local park and having a big neighborhood BBQ & picnic, playing with squirt guns and water balloons all day to stay cool ... of course having a good fireworks spot claimed earlier in the day with a couple of blankets on the hill above the baseball diamond ... because the fireworks were always the best part ...

It was our day of independence from our parents in some ways. We got to be kids all day, we had our own blanket strategically separate from theirs, and no one looked at us crosswise for it all day. We felt like grown ups for a day, I guess.

So go out and enjoy your picnic, BBQ, local get together, or whatever festivities you have planned.

I'll be having a beer, mulling over my memories, waiting for the fireworks ...

Mt Soledad Update

Finally ... someone has some sense ... Supreme Court Issues a Stay for Cross on San Diego City Property

It sure as hell isn't the idiot trying to get the cross taken down though. I mean seriously ... the cross is part of a war memorial ... are you really going to pull the whole separation of church and state thing? Cuz other than that argument, you've got nothin, Buddy.

You don't like the cross? Don't look at it.

And how long are you going to push this battle? The city has been having political and financial trouble for how long now? If you cared about your city, you'd help them sort it all out. Instead, you're using it to your advantage to try to get your pet project through. Guess that means you don't get to complain about anyone else doing that again, now do you?

I say again ... if you don't like the cross ... Don't look at it.

Thank you, Supreme Court, for having some sense.

Not A Lady? GUFFAW!

I know I'm not exactly a demure little kitten, but seriously?
I think this is off ...

You Are 28% Lady

You tend to make up your rules of etiquette, throwing all conventions aside. And while you try to be a lady (sometimes), your behavior is often quite shocking.

Jarhead Red

Seems that I'm pretty late to the party on this one but I'll write about it anyway ...

I love to walk through the wine section of my local store, sometimes because I feel the need for a bottle or two and sometimes because I just love to laugh at the crazy labels people are putting on things these days.

Tonight, this one caught my eye:

From their bottle (and site Jarheadred.com):

Jarhead Red is a wine made by Marines, for Marines, at Firestone Vineyard on California’s Central Coast. Net proceeds from the sale of this wine benefit the Marine Corps Scholarship Foundation, which provides educational assistance to children of U.S. Marines, with special attention given to children of fallen Marines. (www.Marine-Scholars.org)
Adam Firestone – CAPT USMC 1984-91 (Winegrower)
Ruben Dominguez - SGT USMC 1979–84 (Vineyard Foreman)

Seemed to be reason enough for me to buy the wine.

Besides, everyone needs to have a little table wine laying around. And getting your buzz on while doing your part to help out the Marines just makes it that much more rewarding.

Jarhead Red is available for sale online to: CA, CO, ID, IL, IA, MN, MO, NV, NM, ND, NY, OH, OR, TX, WA, WV, WI & WY (states not listed may have local retailers instead)

I'll let you know how I like it once I pop the cork later this week ...

That OTHER $1500 ...

I finally got a picture of my dad's OTHER $1500 mistake ...

Meet Ringo:

(click to enlarge)

I suppose he's kinda cute ...

Perception

I was reminded recently ... against my will, in fact ... about what perception really means and how powerful it can be.

... it is a personal truth ...

... it is an intimate reality ...

... it is the thin veil of belief under which we grow to live our daily lives that keeps us generally happy and content ...

but things can change and that veil can be lifted
and we don't always like what we see
yet, there remains another veil through which the light of the world is filtered
and enters a new perspective that we must learn to find comfort in

... but is truth ever really revealed?
... if its not, does it really matter?

The War Tapes - A Review

My thoughts on this movie can be summed up in one word - Perfect.

It fulfilled its intended purpose with authenticity and a sense of genuine reality; it revealed the experience, ordeal, excitement, and doubt of war through the eyes of the warfighter. Not just through the eyes of the warfighter but through the personal thoughts and existence of these warfighters. These men shared themselves with the audience in ways most friends and neighbors never would.

The film didn't take a political stance on the war. It served as the vehicle for these personal truths to be shared with those of us that will never honestly know or understand what war is really like. We, as viewers, should feel honored and privileged to be given such insight.

I think that this movie should be seen by everyone who has an opinion on the war in Iraq or our troops that are serving in both Iraq and Afghanistan.

I'll say again - this film is simply perfect and a treasured diary.