My Christmas Recap (Because I Felt Left Out)

Post Christmas Wrap Up's seem to be all around the blog world. Mine.... I have again traveled across the state of Texas for the 12th time this month. Stayed in hotels. Decided to seek out a local Hotels Anonymous club. Ate the equivalent of my own body weight daily.

I got exactly what I wanted. In fact, I received the exact model and accessories I desired. My man rocks. He is the smartest man alive. He takes me shopping for my gift.

My muscles are sore. My brain muscles are even worse off. Once children get to be about 3, they require real brain work. Trying to distract them, trying to get them to quit bawling because I looked at them wrong. Trying to block out their screams at 4 A.M. They are so damned adorable and sweet and loving, but so volatile. A screaming, puking, cussing, hitting explosion, waiting to happen because the wind changed directions without clearing it through the kid. Thinking on the fly is damn hard when a 3 year old twists everything you say, has kept you awake for nights on end and on top of that, you are in a turkey coma.

I am still on vacay. My cats have probably torn the door from its hinges and are catting around the neighborhood. My apartment has probably been leased out to some new fool. But my job hasn't replaced me. They keep calling, so I must be wanted back.

I hope everyone got exactly what they wanted. So tell me, what was your favorite gift? Material or intangible.

The Truth.

My 2008 Reading List

Early this year, I found a daily calendar, The Book Lover’s Calendar. The type where you tear off each page as your life passes you by. Each day's page had a book and a brief description of the story.

Daily, weekly, or whenever the hell I got around to it, I would read the listed book’s description and either keep the page to add to my list of books to read or toss that day if it wasn’t my style. And my style? Well, we run the gamut from true crime, to memoirs, to chick lit, to non-fiction, to sci fi, to classics and anything else you can imagine.

My goal is to read a bunch of these over the next year. Not all of them, not one a week or one a month or even one a year. I just want to catalogue these books and perhaps give you some interest in checking them out. Perhaps I will write about some of them over the year, perhaps I won’t. Perhaps I will remember to cross them off this post as I finish them. Most likely, I won’t.

In no particular order, here are the pages that survived my tossing:

1. The Last True Story I'll Ever Tell: An Accidental Soldier's Account of the War in Iraq (John Crawford) FINISHED FEBRUARY SOMETIME.
   
2. The Footprints of God (Greg Iles)
3. On Bullshit (Harry G. Frankfurt)
4. The Long Walk: The True Story of a Trek to Freedom (Slavomir Rawicz)
5. The Confessions of Max Tivoli: A Novel (Andrew Sean Greer)
6. The Works: Anatomy of a City (Kate Ascher) FINISHED 2/24/08
   
7. Bonjour Tristesse (Francoise Sagan)
8. Dirty Sally (Michael Simon)
9. Girls (Frederick Busch)
10. The Day I Turned Uncool: Confessions of a Reluctant Grown-Up (Dan Zevin)
11. Jesus Land (Julia Scheeres)
12. Native Son (Richard Wright)
13. Oh The Glory of it All (Sean Wilsey)
14. Death of an Ordinary Man (Glen Duncan)
15. Black Robe (Brian Moore)
16. Sands of Empire (Robert W. Merry)
17. The Last Song of Dusk (Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi)
18. Brazzaville Beach (William Boyd)
19. War Letters: Extraordinary Correspondence From American Wars (Andrew Carroll)
20. Jenny (Sigrid Undset)
21. A Very Long Engagement (Sebastien Japrisot)
22. The Devil's Cup: A History of the World According to Coffee (Stewart Lee Allen)
23. Consuming Kids (Susan Linn)
24. Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress (Dai Sijie)
25. If You Lived Here, I'd Know Your Name: News from Small-Town Alaska (Heather Lende)
26. Small Island (Andrea Levy)
27. The Mapmaker's Wife: A True Tale of Love, Murder and Survival in the Amazon (Robert Whitaker)
28. Gould's Book of Fish (Richard Flanagan)
29. The Screwtape Letters (C.S. Lewis)
30. Confessions of a Tax Collector: One Man's Tour of Duty Inside the IRS (Richard Yancey)
31. There is Room For You (Charlotte Bacon)
32. The 48 Laws of Power (Robert Greene)
33. What Einstein Told His Cook: Kitchen Science Explained (Robert L. Wolke) FINISHED 1/21/08
    
34. The Small Boat of Great Sorrows (Dan Fesperman)
35. The Heartless Stone: A Journey Through the World of Diamonds, Deceit and Desire (Tom Zoellner)
36. Black Bodies and Quantum Cats (Jennifer Ouellette)
37. Rabbit, Run (John Updike)
38. Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community (Robert D. Putnam)
39. The Pleasing Hour (Lily King)
40. How to Lose Friends & Alienate People AND The Sound of No Hands Clapping (Toby Young)
41. The Amateur Marriage (Anne Tyler) FINISHED 2/20/08 YAWN!!
    
42. Tarzan of the Apes (Edgar Rice Burroughs)
43. In the Province of Saints (Thomas O'Malley)
44. Responsible Men (Edward Schwarzschild)
45. Follies:New Stories (Ann Beattie)
46. Offer of Proof (Robert Heilbrun) FINISHED 1/26/08
    
47. Life is So Good (George Dawson and Richard Glaubman)
48. Crossing California (Adam Langer)
49. Sideways (Rex Pickett)
50. In the Hills of Nambonkaha: Two Years in the Heart of an African Village (Sarah Erdman) FINISHED 2/9/08
    
51. Blowing My Cover: My Life as a CIA Spy (Lindsay Moran)
52. The Last Duel (Eric Jager) I AM TRYING TO READ THIS....NOT SURE I WILL FINISH...YAWN. (2/29/08)
    
53. Things Fall Apart (Chinua Achebe)
54. Elbow Room (James Alan McPherson)
55. Instances of the Number 3 (Salley Vickers)
56. Youth in Revolt (C.D Payne)
57. Where is the Mango Princess? A Journey Back from Brain Injury (Cathy Crimmins)
58. New Orleans Stories: Great Writers on the City (John Miller)
59. Against Love: A Polemic (Laura Kipnis)
60. My Father's Glory and My Mother's Castle (Marcel Pagnol)
61. The Paradox of Choice: Why More is Less (Barry Schwartz)
    
62. Slaughterhouse-Five (Kurt Vonnegut)
63. A Summons to Memphis (Peter Taylor)
64. Liars and Saints (Maile Meloy)
    
65. Gutted: Down to the Studs in My House, My Marriage, My Entire Life (Lawrence LaRose)
66. Natasha: And Other Stories (David Bezmogis)
    
67. The Tender Bar (J.R. Moehringer)
68. Slouching Towards Bethlehem (Joan Didion)
69. Madhouse: A Tragic Tale of Megalomania and Modern Medicine (Andrew Scull)
70. Snobbery: The American Version (Joseph Epstein)
71. How to Win Friends & Influence People (Dale Carnegie)
72. Fourteen: Growing Up Alone in A Crowd (Stephen Zanichkowsky)
73. The Man With the Beautiful Voice: And More Stories From the Other Side of the Couch (Lillian B. Rubin)
74. West of Kabul, East of New York (Tamim Ansary)
75. An Innocent, A Broad (Ann Leary, Denis Leary's wife) FINISHED 5/31/08
    
76. Clay's Quilt (Silas House)
77. Whatever Makes You Happy (Lisa Grunwald)
78. Fan-Tan (Marlon Brando and Donald Cammell)
79. The Shop on Blossom Street (Debbie Macomber)
80. The Progress Paradox (Gregg Easterbrook)
81. I'm Not Scared (Niccolo Ammaniti)
82. Goodnight Nobody (Jennifer Weiner)
83. Runaway (Alice Munro)
84. Confidence (Rosabeth Moss Kanter)
85. The Longest Winter: The Battle of the Bulge and the Epic Story of World War II's Most Decorated Platoon (Alex Kershaw)
86. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
87. Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China (Jung Chang)
88. Music for Chameleons (Truman Capote)
89. Slaves in the Family (Edward Ball)
90. Boy (Roald Dahl)
91. Silk (Alessandro Baricco)
    
92. Crimes Against Logic (Jamie Whyte)
93. Out of Eden: An Odyssey of Ecological Invasion (Alan Burdick)
94. Kafka on the Shore (Haruki Murakami)
95. Sarah (Marek Halter)
96. The History of Love: A Novel (Nicole Krauss) FINISHED 1/13/08.
    
97. All I Did Was Ask (Terry Gross)
98. Shooter: The Autobiography of the Top-Ranked Marine Sniper (Jack Coughlin and Casey Kuhlman with Donald A. Davis)
    

Thoughts? Have you read any of these? Wanna join in? Let me know if you have read one, discuss it on your own innernet space, and I will link.

The linkies up there, all 2,626 of them, I just did a quick search on the book itself. I can't vouch that the links don't discuss killing clowns and feeding them to puppies. Or that they work. Or that puppies shouldn't eat clowns. Because I hear clowns are tasty. Either way, let me know if a link sucks or is screwy and if clowns are nutritionally balanced.

Hey, Ms. Carter

I am officially moved in to my new place, in all its unfurnished, no bed, no couch, but still full of way too much crap, yet where is the damn lint roller, glory.

It was weird when I moved out of the hotel, I was a bit melancholic. As you all very well know, I was not enjoying the hotel. I hated it. I hated the small room, with cats. I hated the front desk. I hated the ever changing slew of rude neighbors. My guess for the slight bit of sadness is that it is official. I am living in Houston. Alone. Not Craig will be joining me in some unknown time in the future. How weird is it to go from happily living together, missing each other like crazy, so excited to return to our cozy little home in the Great Sandy Desert Oil Fields, and then getting my own place 10 hours away. I am a Dumb Ass.

And I did not get a big fluffy robe. Bastards.

I have alluded to a previous never-ending hotel stay. A few years back, while working at this same law firm I am blogging from now, there was a big trial in a city adjacent. I was holed up in a hotel for 2 months working 74 hours a day. The biggest thrill in the world was to be able to return to my hotel room after the longest day known to man and obtain the chocolate that was placed lovingly on my pillow by some housekeeping goddess. I love her still, to this day. And the chocolate. (Sorry, Digression.) This hotel was quite kind to us. Took care of us crazy litigators and when we left, we were provided with big fluffy robes with our initials monogrammed on the front. How cool is that?

This hotel? Nothing. No chocolate, no housekeeping service of any kind I believe for the last 2 weeks. Not even a have a great life, Ms. Fianna when I walked out. Bastards.

The big news is that I am innernet-less. And cable-less. Although I will kick your ass at Super Mario Kart on my hip N64. So I dare you - Bring it. Point being, I will not be around much until the New Year. I will try to post when I can. I have a couple stories to tell you about this new place, a couple questions to ask, some things to figure out and get off my chest. I hope I can remember them when I again am in the land of high-speed innernet.

Until then, have a great life!!

Fun Monday - Home Edition

This week, Kitten is hosting. Kitten has requested that we discuss the history of our home and the street that we live on.

I signed up anticipating to be in my new home. Having slept a couple nights there, enjoyed a leisurely weekend where I would stroll the streets, take some pics and just soak in some of the rich history and amazing architecture found in my new neighborhood. As the post below indicates, I am still living in the hotel. I am kinda sure ya'll don't really care about the history of the hotel or the freeway that runs outside it. Although if you must know, the freeway was constructed in 1935. As for the hotel, who knows. Or cares.

The new home, however, is rich in history. It is one of the oldest and most historic neighborhoods in Houston. The neighborhood was platted in 1907, whatever that means. My home was built in the early 1920's. There are a plethora of little bungalows and large Victorian style homes throughout this dense area just outside of downtown.

There are gorgeous trees and many outstanding gardens, both flower and vegetable (some large enough to be bordering on small-scale farming operations). The neighborhood has at least one resident beekeeper, and in many places it still has no proper gutters, but instead relies on open drainage ditches (with choruses of frogs most summer evenings). (Plagiarized from Wiki). One of the annual events is a Christmas home lighting extravaganza. I would estimate that 80% of the homes within a 10 block span of my home are beautifully decorated. It has been a sight to see and makes me feel so at home.

I will be surely showing off my neighborhood in the coming months, however, I probably should spend a night or two there before I start photographing neighbor's homes.

So, Fun Monday is all about photos. So here are a couple of inside shots.

Looking down to my front door:

My foyer. Where my secretary will sit and make my appointments:


My expensive, imported living room suite:


Now go look at everyone else's beautiful homes!

Stage Left

Scene: Bustling law office, 3 P.M., our heroine is suited in a demure white sweater and grey slacks that are just a tad tight due to several days of extra helpings of General Tso’s chicken. She is busily typing an email to her friend about how she wished the day was over already and is thinking about Chinese for dinner.

(Insert ringing of cell phone)

Heroine: “Hi Landlord! How are you doing?”

Landlord: “Well, pretty good. Took a vacation day today. You have a washer and dryer now. However, remember how you couldn’t get the stove to start and I thought it was because you were an idiot? Well, it appears that you aren’t a complete idiot, it appears that the gas company shut off the gas.”

Heroine: “I told you I graduated 5th in my class! Someone with those kinds of brains can surely figure out how to turn on a gas stove. I will call the gas company and find out what is wrong.”

(Muted tones wherein Heroine and Gas Company discuss how the gas company screwed up, they apologize and will get someone right out to fix their error and Ms. Heroine should have a nice day.)

(Cut to new apartment. Apartment has limited furnishings. No cable, no internet, no couch, an air mattress. Requiring our Heroine to hunch over her only real furniture, a kitchen table, completing Sudoko puzzles and listening to an audio book.)

Time: 10:00 PM

Heroine: “Hi Gas Company. I have been waiting here for 4 hours. It is a Friday night. I am becoming a hunchback, although my analytical skills are surely improving due to the 26 Sudoko puzzles I have completed. However, I am curious if I will have gas tonight?

Gas Company: (Evil maniacal laughter) We show up when we want. You must wait for us, you stupid peon.”

Heroine: “This is your fault, however. You unilaterally shut off my service, whereas there was no logical reason to do so as heretofore my service was appropriate. Therefore, I would appreciate some candor as to the reasoning on the inappropriateness of cutting my gas. (Smile smugly due to use of big law firm words.)

Gas Company: “Yo, bitch, shut up. We do whatever the hell we want. You want gas? Shut up. I is putting you on hold.”

3 minutes pass.

Heroine: “Hmm…he sure told me.”

4 more minutes pass.

Heroine: “Should I interject that I work at a law firm?”

2 minutes pass.

Heroine: “Should I call Marvin Zindler? Dammit, he is dead. Maybe Wayne Dolcefino? Angelina Jolie? Larry the Cable Guy?”

2 more minutes pass.

Heroine hangs up. And hangs her head.

(10:30 PM. Insert ringing cell phone.)

Heroine: “Hello?”

Heroine’s Friend: “Are you still there? What if the gas dude is a maniacal serial killer? Do you have pepper spray? A Tazer? How about some nunchuks?”

Heroine: “Dude. Chill. You are freaking me out. I only have a knife. But if it will make you feel better, I will keep knives stashed in convenient locations so if this gas dude gets fresh, I can stab his ass.

Friend: “Good, use an upward angle, and when it is in, pull up really hard.”

Heroine: “You are fucking crazy. And you are scaring me. Goodbye.”

(Heroine dials a number on her cell phone.)

Heroine: “Hello? Gas Company? I have been told that ya’ll show up anywhere until midnight? Is that correct?

Gas Company: “Bitch, I told you we show up whenever the fuck we want. What are you bugging about?”

Heroine: “Well, I am a bit concerned for my own safety (Runs finger along knife edge.) as well as the safety of the technician. I don't know my neighbors, but wasn’t the Joe Horn incident just up the freeway and through the woods?”

Gas Company: Yo. Our technicians are ninjas. No one messes with them. They will be there when they want to be there. Quit calling.”

Heroine cries. And goes back to her hotel. Dejected and without gas. She then proceeds to fart all night long from the General Tso chicken and is struck by the irony.

Perspective.

The building I work in, like many at Christmas time, has a Giving Tree, or something similar. There is a ridiculously large Christmas tree with nutcrackers that rival the size of a 5 year old child, actually attached to the tree. Next to this obnoxious sight, is a table with lots of slips of paper listing children that are in the CPS system in Houston and their Christmas wish list. Their age, race, sex and 3 top Christmas wishes are listed. I have seen these for the past 5 years, but never participated.

This year, I picked up the slip that caused tears to spring to my eyes.

Among the pages are young children's requests, where you know the child didn’t actually request that Leap Frog toy or Cabbage Patch Kid or whatever toy really young kids want. Then there are the older ones who request a PS3, a portable CD or DVD player, an Ipod.

Mine?

She wanted a comforter set.

She didn’t want a toy. She didn’t want jewelry, or clothes, or a gift card or a video game system.

She wanted a blanket.

She will be receiving, in my old ass opinion, a pretty cool set. I included some DVD’s as well.

I hope her situation improves.

My tiny, miniscule involvement in her situation, improved my outlook on my own situation.

Cotton Gin Blossoms

I have a place to live in Houston. A place that is not a hotel. A place where my cats won't bite me every 2 minutes because they have explored every inch of the hotel room and there isn't anything new to sniff or claw at.

I drove to New Mexico last week to pick up some of my belongings, returning Monday. Monday was the day that Texas decided to get all weather-y and drop down to the 30's, threaten ice and drizzle all day long. Except for Houston. Of course, damn you, Houston.

I am now living on the 3rd floor. I am sure once I am moved in and have buns of steel, this will not bother me. However, going up 2 flights of stairs with a truckload of stupid knick knacks and a few boxes of pots and pans, sucks. Of course, I was miserable loading the truck in Almost West Texas, 30 degrees, drizzle, freaking way too cold for my delicate soul. Then, 10 hours later, I am sweating my ass off from just lowering the tailgate. Houston was 75 degrees, 200% percent humidity. I have lived in Texas long enough. I should expect this.

I really wanted to take some photos for you, folks. Of cotton picking season, which I have no idea why it fascinates me so. It is so damn involved, lots of different steps, lots of stages, field after field of cotton, all in various stages of de-linting. I wanted to take photos of the 80 mph signs in Far West Texas, because I had no idea any place in the U.S. allowed such a speed. I could go 90 and not fear the po-po. What an awesome thing. I wanted to take a photo of the exit for Allison Road because I heart the Gin Blossoms. I wanted to take a photo of Buc-ee's sign that says something about never seeing a beaver before. And that the Beaver Has Gas.

I couldn't take these photos because with this weird ass cold front that headed across the state the day I decided to move this year, it was foggy. Extremely foggy, extremely drizzly, extremely crappy weather to drive 10 hours in.

So my plans went to shit. Not that that is new. My plans for the last couple of months have gone to shit. Who would have guessed that for the foreseeable future, instead of my own bed, instead of a hotel bed, I would be sleeping on an air mattress? Who would have guessed this is how December would turn out or how 2007 would end.

{Insert words of wisdom and learning how strong you are and how you can make a bad ass meatloaf here.}

Fun Monday - Christmas Edition - UPDATED

My BFF, Kaytabug, is hosting Fun Monday this week. She tells us, In the spirit of the season I would like to see your favorite Christmas tree ornament. Not to be confused with the WHOLE tree. I want you to zoom in and show me one or a few(you know I can't choose just one!) of your favorite ornaments. If you don't decorate a tree, show me your menorah or dreidel, Kinara, or Yule Log. I want to see your favorite decoration for this holiday season.

I have been a Christmas fan for years, see:
Kaytabug and I are right by each other here, her in the back row, me with a wreath in the front.

I love the excitement of Christmas. I love the lights, the cold, the songs, the family get-togethers, the gifts.

For the irregular readers, (commenting on your frequency of visits, not your health status), I am currently in between homes, in between states, in between stability - mental and otherwise. I meant to take some pictures of my favorite ornaments while I was at my parent's earlier this week. I forgot. I forget alot of things these days.

The ornaments I remember from my childhood are my favorites. The cute little redheaded girl, the ceramic mouse in a sock, the Avon Mama Mouse Bell. The wheat braided ornaments I made in 5th or 6th grade. These remind me of such wonderful times.

As for me, I don't have many ornaments that mean much to me. I have this weird habit of having Major Upheaval at Christmas time. I have moved at the end of December way too many times. I have decorated a tree under my own roof just twice. I have had my own roof for 10+ Christmases. I just don't have many Christmas decorations.

The past 2 Christmases, this being the 3rd, have been the most memorable as an adult.


Since my sister spawned, Christmas is much more fun. The delight in a child's eye when they look at a tree, the shrieks of joy as they rip into the gifts, the laughter as they decorate cookies.

I am hopefully going to remember to take pictures on my swing by my parent's again on Monday. So perhaps, just perhaps, we will have an update to this post. Although, I can't guarantee anything. I'll probably forget my camera here in State Adjacent!

Go check out everyone's ornaments. I can't wait to see yours!

UPDATE: See, I had these grand plans. I made sure that my camera had freshly charged batteries. I made sure I packed it. In addition to ornament photos, I had plans on posting a ton of pictures about this fascinating metamorphosis currently going on in Far West Texas. Cotton picking season! It is fascinating, let me tell you.

But then, dammit all to hell, plans went in the crapper. Although I have officially graduated from 2 separate driving education classes and have participated annually in the Texas Defensive Driving program, I am hopeless on ice, snow, hell - rain freaks me out a bit. And you Northerners, rock for your all-weather driving abilities. In Texas, if there is an indication that it is going to be 50 degrees or less, just stay home. Don't even go to the grocery store or the gas station. They will be packed. It is like a mini-apocalypse. Texans cannot drive in cold weather. Ice? Snow? Hell no!! So I replanned my route. I went south as fast as I could. Which when the officially sanctioned speed limit is 80, is pretty fast. So no ornaments for you. Kaytabug, I suck. I am sorry. But I am safely back in a tropical wonderland, going from the low 30's to the high 70's in a 10 hour drive across Texas. No cotton picking pictures. Of cotton or ornaments.

Boo. Hoo.

I really should come around more often. But in order to write a blog post, I feel that it should be funny, and uplifting and make fun of myself (or others) in some way. Provide a funny anecdote. Something.

I am just not there right now. I am trying. I do my best to be positive and uplifting and make fun of myself and find humor in my situation.

But I am throwing a pity party. I have been for several weeks now. I have been down longer than I have in my past history. I want to get out of it, but until I find an even surface, I am not sure I will.

I am getting there. I have a place to live in Houston now. I am currently in the State Adjacent getting some stuff to fill the new living arrangement. Hopefully, once I get settled in a bit, we can laugh and carouse around this little internet space like we used to.

So, tell me, how are you doing? Is something bringing you down? What do you do to snap out of the doldrums?

Fun Monday - Looking Back

Robinella has gracefully hosted our Fun Monday this week, asking us:

I want you to dig through your blog files and show us your best effort. Why you consider it your best is up to you. C’mon, you know you have a favorite - show it to me one more time.

I knew right away which post I would use for this topic. The situation leading to the post was such a pain that this post just rolled right out. I was half drunk, beyond frustrated. I barely edited a word, just hitting post. I am pleased with my effort.

Dinner

I did not want to cook tonight. I had some chicken that I could have baked up real quick, but decided that I wanted to just grab something. So while my dear did some work that had to be finished tonight, I headed out to pick up dinner.

I went to KFC. They had a special going 10 piece meal, two sides, some drink thing, blah blah blah. They usually have a number of sides available. Tonight, they had mashed potatoes, green beans and baked beans. No original recipe chicken. Oh and they were also out of Dr. Pepper. I contemplated my options, and decided that I would decline their limited options. I left the drive thru line, called my dear and after agreeing on a different spot, I headed up the street to Arby’s.

There was no one in the drive thru line, so I pulled right up to the box. And was promptly greeted. I provided my order, slowly, pausing between each item. After I finished ordering the two meals, the girl asked, “Ok, a #2” “Yes” “And what side with that?” “Curly fries” I responded. “Ok, and what to drink” “Lemonade” “Is that all?” My foolishness, I responded yes, assuming she got the second meal that I had already ordered. But then she confirmed, that I had but one order. No, so I repeated the second meal, at 1/10 of the speed I had originally ordered. And she confirmed both meals and requested I pull up. I sat at the window for awhile while she took the order of the gent behind me. Between changing stations on the XM, I watched what was going on inside. There was a separate woman putting together the order, and presumably, one in the kitchen area. The one that I was able to see had long hair, that was not restrained. And while I waited, and waited, and waited, I imagined long hairs breaking off, into my curly fries. And then, after 2 songs on channel Highway 16, after I still had not been greeted at the window nor requested to provide payment for my meals, I saw the girl wipe her nose, wipe her pants and continue to stand in the window where the food is dropped. And I sat. Listening to Tim McGraw. And thought…is it worth it? I had already left one restaurant. Yet, I pulled out of a second one. I felt guilty doing so, the chicken was probably already fried up, ready to be slapped on a bun, a quick swipe of mayo and boogers and I could have got my dinner and headed home. Yet I left.

I decided that I would next try Dairy Queen. There was a bit of a line both inside and at the drive thru, so I phoned a friend while sitting in line at the drive thru. The line moved promptly enough and before you know it, I am ordering a steak finger basket and flamethrower chicken sandwich basket. I then proceed to the first window, provide my credit card as payment. And wait. And wait. And wait. Then a girl, not the one that took my card, asks what I ordered. I stall, Is this a trick question? Shouldn’t she know what I ordered. And she does! Food! Yes, indeed, I did order food! Thank you! And she asks me to pull up to the second window so they can serve the people behind me. But I protest, the other girl has my card. “Oh?” She responds, and walks off, searching for the girl that is running amuck with my Visa card. Shortly, the first girl, the holder of my card returns to the first window and requests that I pull up to the second window. I tell her that she still has my card. She responds that they will have my card and my food at the second window and will I please move out of the frigging way! Irritated, but understanding the way things work, I pull up. And wait, and wait and wait. Finally, the manager, in his regal blue uniform opens the second window and exclaims that the credit card machine isn’t working. Do I have cash? What a silly question, he asked me. Does anyone carry cash anymore? Visa/MC runs commercials on the silly nature of those souls that pay with cash. I do not have cash. Bah! Ah, but… shortly after moving here and seeing people utilizing these strange contraptions, I started carrying these pieces of paper in my wallet. You put the name of the business, the amount of the sale and sign your name, and the business takes it, just like cash! I believe that they are called “Checks”. I have not seen one nor written on one in many moons, but I hear that they are wildly popular in these areas. Yet, this gentleman, this purveyor of the Queen refused. My scrap of paper was not welcome, my bit of plastic spurned. And so I left. I left the establishment, with nothing to show for my time.

Three eateries. No satisfaction. I stubbornly decided that cold turkey sandwiches would suffice. I turned my car towards my home. Throughout the ordeal at Dairy Queen, I continued to talk to my friend. She spoke very highly of a different type of pizza joint. Where they make the pizza in front of you, you take it home and cook it in your own stove. Papa Murphy’s. My friend discussed how she loves them. You can order any type of pizza, anything you like. And the chocolate chip cookies! YUM! I warned her that she had better not pump up the place too much. She had not had Papa Murphy’s in BFE, New Mexico. She laughed and said that she would give me a ring tomorrow to see how it went. And we hung up.

Now, I have such an affinity for Papa John’s, I assumed anything “Papa” must be worthy of my time. I pulled a U-eee (How do you type that out? A you-ee, I did a U-turn) and headed towards Papa Murphy’s. Their open sign was dimmed, but it was only 8:10, so I walked in, where I was not greeted. There were two teens working behind the counter, yet I walked around a bit, looked at their line, which was much like Subway’s meal line with slots for the various toppings, which was already cleaned out. I asked if I could still get a pizza. After a bit of a "ahem", look, I was informed that they had pizzas pre-made, she thought pepperoni, maybe some other things. I asked if they had cheese already on them. A jolt ran through me. This must be what it is like to have a teenage daughter under your roof. She shot me a look as if I was the stupidest person she had run into this month and sarcastically responded, “Yes.” I quickly said, “I do not want your damn pizza” and fled. Ok, maybe I didn’t say that exactly, but I should have.

Four places. Four. This was becoming comical. I headed down the street, willing to accept nearly anything at this point. McDonald’s drive-thru was packed. Wendy’s was packed.

Utter frustration set in. The remaining choices on the short list of available restaurants were less than appetizing. I would rather have a cold turkey sandwich.

However, grocery stores! They have delis! And rotisserie chicken!! Hot rotisserie chicken!!

So, I pulled another You-EEE and headed towards Albertson’s.

Yea. You guessed it. The deli was shutting down. It was now around 8:20. Of course, the deli has fucking shut down. The chickens? Gone! For holy fucks sake.

Near tears, starving and pissed to my frigging gills, I headed to the frozen food aisle, picked up some TV dinners, nearly ran to the alcohol section, got a bottle of a fast acting elixir. Bahama Mama from Bacardi. And headed to the checkout.

As is customary in this town, I was carded. They card everyone. No worries, but….the checkout girl looks at my birthday and at me and at my ID again and says wow, you look great for your age!

And I proceeded home. With multiple TV dinners and a large bottle of medicine.

And I, as I was preparing the second TV dinner for each of us, I asked myself, why the FUCK do we have to stir the potatoes 8 times.

And this, all this, is to say that I had a really hard time getting dinner tonight. But in the end, I got drunk, so it was an okay birthday after all.

So there we have it, my best post. Now go read some other Best Of's via Robinella.

Didn't Tesla Sing About This?

I am a firm believer in things happening for a reason. I am also of the belief that God leads you through this messed up life, directing your path. Of course, we can also take detours and screw things up all on your own, but He tries to get us to quit being such dumbasses and follow the path that we should be on. I also believe that God is accepting of me saying dumbasses and other cuss words all over the innernets. My God is an awesome God.

What is scaring the pants off me right now is, is this whole Houston business the way it should be? Was this laid out as it should have been laid out? Or is this me being a dumbass?

I sure would like a sign. Some small or big neon sign that would just reassure my pansy ass that I am doing what is best for our future. Could someone check my back and let me know if there is a “Kick Me” sign back there. Because that seems to be the only sign I feel that I have received.

Intuition. Follow it, love it, worship it. Yet, I am bucking it every day. Is that good or bad? How do you make good decisions - with your heart or your head?

How do you know you are doing the right thing?

Could You Do Me a Flavor?

I know I don't really have any right to ask any favors right now. I have been complacent in my posting and definitely complacent in my commenting. But could you cut a girl a break and do a little favor?

Watch these guys tonight:



They are really good, see:



And see, I have another favor to ask. Could you watch AND vote. I know, I know. I shouldn't be asking for anything at all, but I swear I will make it up someday....

All I Want For Christmas is...

Curious folk may ask themselves why I spent so much time this morning preparing a new template and customizing it and mastering HTML like a big dog, as opposed to simply writing a post. A post would be much simpler, less time consuming and cause 59% less eye strain.

However, I am a glutton for punishment. Changing templates sucks. However, I am thrilled that I have completed the change. I was wanting to get rid of purple, I am not a very purply person. I am much more white/black/blues. My outfit today? Black top, black jacket, grey pants, black shoes. Yesterday? White top, black pants, same black shoes. Tomorrow? Blue top, grey pants, same black shoes. Very monotone. Very simple. None of that trying to figure out an outfit mess for me. I do really well with matched sets. This sounds like it could be a Christmas list. Or not. (Email me for sizing, as necessary.)

So, point is, I could have written a post this morning. Lord knows I haven’t posted much this month. And the Good Lord also knows my life isn’t lacking substance. In fact, I could use a bit less substance. And more stability. And housing. Housing would be awesomest. And perhaps, a Dyson.

In fact, let’s revise that Christmas list, shall we?

• A place to live that is in excess of 300 square feet.
  
• A cappuccino maker that fits nicely on my kitchen counters in my new apartment that has enough space for me to do yoga if I ever decided I wanted to do yoga.
  
• A closet. Or....two closets?
  
• Neighbors that don't try to unlock my door because they can't read the numbers that are on the wall right next to the door.
• Neighbors that don't burn their dinner every night, setting off the smoke detectors and stinking up the whole floor with their burned crap.
  
• A landlord that is not so front desk like. Not so 18 and working at a hotel because mommy made your ass get out of bed today and so you gotta be rude to me.
  
• And oh yea, a Dyson.

Thanks Santa, you rock. I will have cookies and soy milk laid out for you in my new place, if you could see fit to arrange a pre-Christmas day gift for me.

No Mo Hotel-ing.

I am seriously contemplating a new blog, a hotel review site. By my count, I have stayed at 13 different hotels since August. For 2 and a half months, I have lived in one. I have added 2 so far this weekend. Now, I am talking cheapo hotels. No-tell motels. We are not chilling at the Holidae In (extra points for artist i.d.).

And hi, I have not left the state of Texas and it is in the 30's. Snow? WTF? Thank goodness for a delivery from home of my box of sweaters and a portion of my extensive coat collection.

When traveling cross-country, besides warm knickers, I recommend audio books. I have listened to 2 so far this trip, and have a 3rd for the trip home.

And take pictures while driving down the highway going 80, you can capture things like this.


Happy Sunday after Thanksgiving, folks.

Thankful

When I am stressed, when I am tired, when I feel beaten up on, I withdraw. I pull into my own little shell which has a wonderful cozy chair where my thoughts just sit and chat, rebuilding my tough (as a marshmallow) exterior.

This rebuilding process frequently includes a few key elements. Thrift stores, garage sales, estate sales, some place to rummage through piles of crap and find hidden treasures. Coffee shop, a book and a patio. Comforting food and dark beer.

I found so many treasures this weekend. Many things to post on Ebay, many things I will keep.

A few weeks back, I had a bad experience with an extremely rude dealer at an estate sale. Miss Politeness, Daughter of Mrs. Uber Manners, actually spoke up and told this woman how rude she was. I passed up quite a few desired items from that sale as I just couldn't give that mean woman my cash. Imagine my surprise when I found one of the items at a church bazaar. Aren’t these napkins fabulous!

At the same sale, a set of aprons were found. Check this one out.

Matching oven mitt and pot holder! Cat was not included in the sale.

I am feeling more like myself, got some rest, recharged my batteries a bit. However, there is nothing like going home, to my parents and then to my love.

Turkey, sweet potatoes and Paula Deen stuffing.

If I don’t check back in soon, I wish everyone a wonderful Thanksgiving.

How Can Monday Come Around Every Day?

Oy vey. I am beat. This has been the longest couple a weeks in a very long time. My last day off was October 28. Which happens to coincide with an amazingly stress-filled week of life changing, zip code amending, copious tear production, and the indescribable thrill of continued living in captivity with the feral cats I call my own. And then, I worked 19 days straight, on average working 10-12 hours each day. This all added up to an overwhelming exhaustion and a hefty paycheck. Thank you very much, Mr. Trial.

We actually received the verdict on Wednesday. However, I am still beaten down. Worn. Exhausted. I hope to catch up with my life 2 weeks from Tuesday. And perhaps in between now and then, buy contact solution and coffee creamer, find warm clothes either in Houston or at my home in The State Adjacent, identify a suitable living situation, and enjoy sweet potatoes and stuffing at some currently unknown locale.

But that can wait. May I tell you my new favoritest chocolate thing-y?

I don’t like chocolate very much. But I am weak and tired. And CVS had chocolate products for 2/$1.00. Now who can resist a deal like that when you are half-brain-dead, half-drunk and have full-on mercury poisoning from noxious amounts of happy hour sushi specials? This is tasty stuff, I swear.

As for getting back to normal, I promise to start posting on a not-so-regular basis with posts full of inane shit and updates on felines that wake me up by licking my face and peeing on the floor.

Calm down!! Really, you are just embarrassing yourself with all that begging.

Trial Watch 2007

Trials are so exhilarating, yet so frustrating. We are ready to go, we have spent so much time and effort sweetening up our file, building up the anticipation and nervousness on the other side. We are ready and willing. Baited breath – freshly minted, but baited. And the court shuts us down. The Judge swings open the door and tells us to go home. So we throw our stuff back into the boxes, straighten our suits and go home with heads hung. It is much like blue balls.

All week the Pantyhose Alert Level has hovered between Lemon Yellow and Pumpkin. Hoping, anticipating a rise in the alert level, I wore comfortable clothing and shoes for the first half of the week. Building up for the anticipation of pain and discomfort from heels and hose. This morning, I donned a sensible black suit with heels. The alert level was clearly Pumpkin.

We had a conference call with the Court and all attorneys this morning. One minute, we are at Level Pumpkin. Quickly, it shoots to Green Apple and suddenly, with just a word, it shoots clear up to Candy Apple Red.

Wish me and my poor squeezed parts luck. We are now, officially, engaged at Candy Apple Red, imminent trial alert.

One of These Things Might Be Boring

After having Wal-Mart be the only place to shop in small-town New Mexico, and Wal-Mart being my own personal version of hell necessitating an hour long pep talk, sunglasses and a noise blocking Ipod, living in the downtown area of a big city where Wal-Mart couldn’t get their grubby hands on a plot of land large enough to house hot dogs, cat litter, guns, and quilting fabric under one roof, is quite pleasant. (Whew, what a run-on!) I haven’t stepped into a Wal-Mart in a couple of months and don’t even see them if I stay “in the loop”. Life is good, I can breathe deeper, and relax. My own personal Wal-Mart-less Zen.

However, I have an issue. (Or seventy.)

I have talked about my beloved car before for Fun Monday. I seriously adore this car. As the years and miles roll on, I am extremely concerned of the day that she passes on. Where she leaves me, alone and confused. And walking.

In her 184K life, I have gone through 3 boxes of hubcabs.

There. That is my dirty little secret.

Look, no judgment, Mr. Never Have Hit a Curb. I curb-check. Ok, I curb-check constantly. And those little boogers get knocked loose sometimes and just roll off into opposing traffic, into an empty field, into Hubcab Heaven.

Now, seriously, because a discussion about replacing hubcaps on a semi-regular basis is a very serious topic, I bought my fourth box of hubcaps last night.

It is bad when you know exactly where they are located within the eleventy billion aisles of the SuperCenter. And what color the box is. I was totally thrown off because this Wal-Mart, did not have “my” hubcaps. Orange box, gray streaks on the box. Black writing. My hubs. I had to settle for a slightly different style than the other 3 remaining hubcaps.

So now one of wheels is not like the others, one of my hubs does not belong. I am not changing all the other hubs, just so they belong.

Because in a few months, I will lose another. But I have 3 as backup in the trunk.

Preparedness. Not just for terrorism anymore.

Arizona 1, Rest of U.S. 0

I woke up this morning by alarm. I have a busy day. I need to go to church, go shopping for foodstuffs, an oil change is a good idea (although Fianna’s dad says that your car will NOT blow up if you just so happen to substitute power steering fluid for oil, not that I did that or anything) and work my ass off all day again. We are getting ready for a trial so this boost of posting is a big tease. I will soon be working from sunup to sundown, wearing fancy pants suits and stupid pantyhose. Shit, add pantyhose to the list. God I hate pantyhose. Digression, you are my BFF right behind Kaytabug and Coffee.

I gotta run around and do a lot of crap today. Yet…at work yesterday, I got a Grande Iced Coffee from Satan-bucks and drank it around 5:00 P.M. The cats were alone all day and wanted to play all night. I got home at 10:30 and watched late night TV. All these circumstances intersected at a place called No-Sleep Hell. So I am up and a bit sleepy, but I have showered, drank a half a cup of heaven and decided to check my blogs because this NowBlowMe deal is awesome. Lots of reading while I should be getting ready for trial. Of course, in the bottom right corner of my screen a small surprise was waiting for me.

Bill Gates, I heart you some days and others…I want to destroy your little operating system and go buy a pretty white computer from the most awesome store in the mall. Today…I am not sure how I feel. On one hand, you saved me from looking like a fool by being at church darned early. On the other hand, you did not give me a call, I know you have my number, and say hey busy lady who doesn’t keep up with life these days, it is Daylight Savings Time, sleep in or lay there like you are sleeping while there is a howling fight at your feet.

I have an hour to kill. Damn it.

And the Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round

Damn CAP! Here she goes again. She apparently did not receive the memo wherein it was discussed that I would not cry anymore this week. I love her so much. I totally have a hetero girl crush on her.

The moment today that made me smile so much in this post was relating to when I told a particularly judgmental friend about my Houston news. I hadn’t really felt like telling her before as I am still working my way through it on my own. I am trying to figure out how I feel about it. Making peace with the decision and the aftermath. She asked if I wanted to know her opinion. I said no. She responded, a bit surprised, “Really?” and I said, “No, I really don’t want to know what you think”.

We each get chances every day to make decisions, some tiny as in what way to take to work. Some a bit larger - should I wear this slutty-ish skirt to work today? And some really big, should I change my entire life today? Everyone is going to make their own decisions, make big and small decisions every day with the best information they have at that very moment. Decide what to put in their coffee, whether to have a second helping of casserole, paper or plastic. Decide to go back to school after a 20 year hiatus, to move to a new city, to change lanes, both in reality and metaphorically. Each decision made is what that person thought was best at that exact moment in time. Each person is going to be judged by others in their life as to how wise each decision was. You can listen and second guess your self, or you can simply ignore what everyone else has to say and move on. Keep making decisions, keep making your path, and just keep on keeping on.

And Titillating is Spelled Wrong

I completely forgot about this prior to Halloween. Due to my own little drama, I did not share this timely. Forgive me please!!

Houston, the nation’s strip club capital, you make me proud once again.

Risk - Life, not the Game

During my senior year of high school, I did the typical stuff – SAT’s, admissions applications, and college visits. I had chosen “my” college. Decided that I was going to pursue an elementary education degree at a wonderful teaching school a couple of hours from my parent’s home. I was accepted, I applied for loans, my parents applied for loans, I was set for my freshman year. My mom and I stayed in the dorms for an orientation weekend. On the second night of the orientation, I knocked on my mother’s door, and collapsed into her chest, crying my eyes out. Fearful of this move, not wanting to leave the comfort and safety of my high school life, my parent’s home, my relationship with my high school boyfriend, to jump into a college setting – strange town, strange professors, strangers. I cried my eyes out that night. She lovingly told me to do whatever was best for me. If I didn’t want to go, don’t go.

But there were outstanding loans, there were plans with my friend to room together, there were meal tickets already bought. And I went. My friend backed out at the last minute. And I still went. I attended that school for one semester. I went home every weekend. And I ran home as soon as the semester ended.

I regret my decision to this day. I wish I had been brave enough to embrace the circumstances and make the best of it. Make new friends, find out what college life is really about and receive a diploma. Yet I chickened out, ran home with my tail between my legs.

I have thought of this moment many times over the past few days. I want to run home to my mom and cry and tell her to make this easier, make my decision for me, keep me safe.

I am enveloped with fear and doubt and sadness.

We are moving back to Houston.

They'rrrrreeee Baaacccckkk!!

Sorry for the sporadic posting.




It will continue.

I Want a Cookie!

One of these things is not like the others


One of these things just doesn't belong


Can you guess which thing is not like the others


By the time I finish my song?


Did you guess which thing was not like the others?


Did you guess which thing just doesn't belong?

If you guessed this one is not like the others,


Then you're absolutely...right!




DECAF! WTF! Are you trying to kill me, coffee? WTH is this crap!! ACK!

Some Places...Summer Still Exists

Just a short flight away from Houston, is a beautiful island. Near that island, the sweetest, most beautiful nieces a girl can have, live. I took a super quick jaunt there this weekend. And played and wiped up tears, and spit-up, but not butts, because I am not that nice of a sister. I sniffed sweet baby scalp until I sneezed. And had the absolute delight of watching a baby fall into a deep sleep in my arms.

I ate the most wonderful ceviche at a little restaurant on South Padre, ceviche, topped with guacamole and of all things, honey mustard. So tasty!

I chatted with my sister like we actually care for each other. I admired her strength, her ability to love, her tenacity.

I carried an infant down an overgrown beach access point fearful of slipping or getting bit by a snake and got a few stickers stuck in my toes.

The next day, I carried a grumpy 2 year old around Sand Castle Days.

Due to aunt-ly duties, I was unable to get any more pictures of the castles.

My arms are sore, my legs are sore, I am utterly exhausted.

And I am head over heels in love with the sweetest, most beautiful nieces a girl can have.

This little one didn't want a picture, she wanted Tia Fianna to pick her up!!

Fun Monday Graphics!

Willowtree is taking care of hosting duties this Fun Monday.

He wants to see some clothing art. That's tee shirts, baseball caps, hoodies, sports uniforms or any bit of clothing that you or your kids own that has interesting, funny or artistic graphics.


One of my friends in Houston, whom I have seen several times since I have been here, recently commented that every time she has seen me, I have always been wearing the same thing.

This cool shirt paired with a khaki skirt, brown Old Navy flip flops. Shady Grove has been previously mentioned as my favoritest restaurant in Austin. Go there if you ever...go there.


I LOVE this shirt! This is the shirt I wear on the other weekend day with the khaki skirt after wearing the Shady Grove shirt seen above.


One shirt my friend hasn't seen me wear since I have been here is:
This is one of my very oldest shirts. The mermaid is way faded. She has since been relegated to gym clothes duty. While I joined my old gym for my stay here in town. I am doing what I usually do, subsidizing the gym by paying dues and not going.

My friend has seen this shirt nearly each time our get-togethers occur in the evening hours. What better way to hit the bar than by wearing a liquor ad.

By the frequent vodka mentions, ya'll may know that Jack is not my beverage of choice. Definitely not since Kaytabug and I reached high school. Oh wait, TMI. Don't tell our moms. But this shirt was a gift from my beloved and I love it! Black is the slimming agent of choice. Not the gym.

This is such a cute tee....if you know that I am a redhead. And I am so not Irish. One of those things Alanis Morrissette considers "Ironic". And I like to flaunt "Irony". Kinda like how I really want one of those shirts that say, "Blondes do it Better", or "Brunettes Rock" or something very similarly "Ironic".
That's all folks. I hope this post makes any sense at all. I am so so exhausted. Tomorrow or Tuesday or 3 weeks from Friday, we will be discussing the beach, with a 2 year old and an infant. What is exciting though? It is nearly November and in some places, not an hour flight away, summer continues with bikinis and beer bongs. But not on 2 year olds or infants or the heroine of this blog. But somewhere, dammit!

Sorry to Group You With Projectile and Poop, Laurie. I Heart You!

Oh, what a weekend! Awesome. awesome weekend.

On Friday, I met Crazy Aunt Purl. She is so amazingly personable and sweet, and cute and Southern! I had never been to a book signing before. It was a weird little thing. From reading her blog for a couple years now, it is like I know her. And everyone else does as well. So for that formal environment, it was a bit odd. I would have been much more comfortable, sitting on a back porch, sipping wine out of a Solo cup. I had some questions, but was too scared to ask anything, because I am a chicken shit. And hate public speaking, even when it is to just ask a question of CAP. So she reads a chapter or two, there is an audience Q&A and then she signs books. I have met celebrities, and have always been a bit non-plussed. When it is just a celebrity, some dude that’s on TV, some chick that makes movies, I don’t really care. Someone that has entertained me, someone that has made me laugh until I cried, and of course cried until I laughed, that is when I break out in hives. And to me, Laurie is a celebrity. She puts her life out there for us to read, she talks about her insecurities, her screw-ups, her losses and let’s us cry with her, laugh with her and just have a grand old time out on this world wide web. Meeting her was a big deal to me. And of course, I was awkward. I was nervous talking. I asked for a hug and had to hurry off because I was getting tears. Damn her and her adorableness! (Make sure and check out the pics, my torso, purse and hair clip are now famous. In a almost, not really sort of way.)

On Saturday, I met up with my sister and her family at the Houston Museum of Natural Science, but more importantly, the Butterfly Habitat. Starbucks and some donut place were kind enough to show up for the early crowd and give free coffee, donuts and kolaches (why you Northerners and Californians and whoever else…. don’t have kolaches, I do not understand and I pity you for it). We then get in line, get up to the ticket booth, we hand over our cash and my 3 year old niece starts coughing and then projectile vomits everywhere. It was a serious Exorcist scene. All over my hands, jeans and cute Old Navy flip flops. I was a tad traumatized. My experienced sister catches a good amount of it in her hands. Eww. After a clean-up, a new gift shop shirt, the kid was fine. And we proceeded to catch butterflies, let the “sleeping” ones “sleep” and just enjoy the high-pitched shrill of excited children.

They were not in town to see me though and we separated a few hours later. We met up for lunch on Sunday. It was a beautiful day in Houston for October. It had cooled off a bit and the storm clouds stayed at bay until I completed my fun. I wandered about the restaurant carrying my itty bitty niece, entertaining her and myself with a bit of baby talk. I comment to her dad that she is getting a bit squishy down South and he may want to handle that whole situation. He comments that it might be a messy one but being the sweet dad he is, he said he would get on it…. and upon closer inspection, yep she was leaky. Leaky on me.

And so after telling this to an old friend with a 6 month old, she relays a nice story to me. How moms just do things instinctively, not how I just stood there in shock and awe for both projectile vomiting issue #1 and leaky poopy-ness #2. She relayed how once she caught her daughter’s poop in her hand. What led to that, I didn’t ask, I was throwing up a bit, but just in my mouth, not projectively.

Fun Monday 37: Meet Cute

Monday…again…already! This week (and weekend) flew by! Thank goodness I can be a cheater for this Monday! Janet has asked us to:

Describe your meeting with your spouse/significant other. I especially want to hear "meet cute" stories.

And wouldn’t ya know it, I showered my love for my man all over the innernet awhile back. I am gonna copy and paste that story, shorten it and perhaps edit here and there. The original can be found here in case you are dying for more.

Throughout the week leading up to this amazing meeting, my life was crazy. I had just been promoted into a very trying position, with no one to show me the way, seeing that the previous employee was wanted in 4 states. I had just left this guy I had dated for 6 years and was working on an exit strategy from a shared apartment and co-ownership of 3 cats. One of my best girl friends had asked me to join her in Austin for the weekend for a little celebration of her becoming a licensed masseuse. I almost backed out/never really committed, but at the last moment, I went. I drove to Austin after work that Friday, got all hussied up and we hit downtown for a girls’ night out.

We walked in to a bar, got a drink, wandered around, spied some seats. And sat. And sipped our vodka, eyeing the crowd. When she went to get another round, this guy sitting next to us said hello, and asked my name. His was Craig. We started chatting. My friend came back, and we all continued to chat.

We decided to change bars and I asked Craig to join us. He followed and we proceeded to get liquored up at a few more locations. When the bars closed down, I asked for Craig’s number and find out I completely misunderstood him that his name was NOT Craig. We programmed our proper names and spellings into our respective cell phones. And we kissed.

Pretty Miserable Sister

I am so very, very tired this week. But see, I have no one to tell how tired I am because a certain very important someone has worked triple digit hours in the past week. Triple! How do you even work triple digit hours in 6 days? Who am I to complain of how I worked from 8-7 in a cozy little office with air conditioning, carpet and a cushy chair. My working conditions and hours prohibit any bitching to him this week. Dammit dammit dammit. Cuz mama is tired.

And has thought of many new ways to kill the cutest weetle kitten. She needs Benadryl, Valium. I am quite sure the cat has ADD, a major sleeping problem and a slight empathy problem. I don’t think it matters how early I go to sleep anymore, she is going to destroy several hours of this sleeping business.

And the dreams of someone breaking into my room, they could stop. Thanks!

I have a really hard time with motel places. The ones where the rooms open to the outside. I get really freaked out that some dude in a red hoodie is breaking in and attacks me. He has followed me across many states for many years. Well, he apparently has followed me to Houston and has upgraded his hotel stays.

And the night before last, both cats decided to join in on the fun activity of Wake Mama Before Sunrise. To the right of me, the usual culprit Chloe was licking my face, to the left, Yoda joined in by nuzzling at my neck. Hi, kitties, love the attention and all, but it is 4:00 A.M. When the clock says 7:00 and I have overslept, then and only then is this acceptable behavior. Please, pretty please with a mackerel on top?

How will I ever survive a child? I was trying to rationalize with a damned cat at 4:00 this morning. “Look, little kitty cat, I will give you treats, I will make a special Fiesta run and get you Canned Cat Food, if you will just let me sleep until 6:30 without any further interruption.” “No, really, please.” “Ok, well, how about a new toy? You like mice? Would you like a brand new mouse?” And by 4:45, I was offering the damned kitten a pony.

I can just see it now, my 6 month old baby will have a Maserati.

Would someone please babysit a very friendly early rising kitten please? Pretty please with a Maserati on top?

Fun Monday: My Hood

Pamela has been so kind to host our Fun Monday this week, requesting:

I want to see what you see on any given morning this week; from somewhere very near where you live. Front porch, back porch, down the street, around the corner. Just makes sure it's your neighborhood. Post a photo that will send me to the travel agent to book a weekend at your local Bed & Breakfast. Post your October View on Monday, October 8 . Write a little or write a lot.

As I have mentioned, I am living in a hotel in Houston currently. I have always been a suburb girl. Always on the outskirts, but now, I am smack dab in the middle of Houston. A freeway running right outside, restaurants, bars, shops all within a short walk. Urban living. Concrete jungle. I love it!

It has been a rainy weekend, a busy weekend. Most All of the photos are from the window of my car, while jetting down the freeway.

This is Lakewood Church, the former basketball stadium.


Hazy rainy downtown buildings.


Street Sign.

Maybe I could take a piano back home? Strap it to the roof of my Corolla?
Right off the freeway:

Could someone translate?

This sculpture is at the Menil Art Museum. It is a bit hard to see in these tiny little photos, but each end says "Love".

How about the evening view that was so beautiful I figured out just enough Photoshop to make it a header?