Am Too Busy To Title This Post.

Looking back at the last month is a bit overwhelming.

I haven't been around much because my job - they are making me work really hard for the money. Really hard.

Buying a new house? Um, time-consuming. Getting ready each morning is much more difficult when you have to wiggle along the floor past the windows, naked, because you haven't put up curtains yet. Also, losing the keys for 3 weeks is a bad idea.

New homes? Don't have innernet access. You have to have a huge tunnel for cabling dug in your backyard. And then they don't bury it.

And you live in fear that the new dog that you just got, is going to eat the cable. But you can't decide which is worse - the potential for electrocution of the dog or the loss of internets once the dog gets electrocuted.



Sorry the pic kinda sucks. I can't find my camera, so this is a phone pic. And he doesn't stop moving ever. He is an 8 week old border collie. Please name him. We suck at naming animals - our 1 1/2 year old cat is officially named Kitten. So please help this poor dog.

Don't even get me started on Christmas. My sister - employs slave labor and pays in tamales and Monster energy drinks.

I spent my Christmas vacation putting this together.




It took 4 people 2 days to put it together. 2 entire days. From 7 AM until dark.

My kids - never getting a play set. They have their aunt to blame.

So, in review:

2007 - This Year Can Totally Suck it.

2008 - The Best Year Ever.

2009 - On Track to Be The Best Year Ever.

Too Sleepy To Title This Bad Boy.

I was up at the ungodly hour of 4 a couple weeks back. It is much easier when you are headed to a sandy beach than when you are working on outrunning a hurricane the size of Texas.

We are heading to Dallas to wait out Ike. We live next to downtown Houston, in an old house, next to a freeway that collects water.

I have parents begging me to bring the grandcats for a visit, so I guess I say, Ike, I surrender. You Bastard.

Don't take out the trees next to my house. I like electricity. It powers my Roomba. K. Thx.

Perhaps the Paring

This Morning.

Not Craig: Oh my God! Turn around. Let me see your butt.

Fianna: What? NO!!!

Not Craig: Serious. What the hell is that?

Fianna: thinking - if he is about to point out a zit or cellulite on my ass...I am going to grab a knife.

Not Craig: That is so gross!

Fianna: Inching towards knife drawer.

Not Craig: That is jacked up.

Fianna: Hmmm ... Butcher knife or steak knife?

The deck in Jamaica is slippery. Be careful.

Although with views like this, who really cares about that baseball size bruise on your ass cheek?

Last Discussion About the Hurricane (Which is Such a Lie.)

I don't mean to drone on and on about the storm. On Twitter, Plurk, here, at work, on various chat boards, yawn!!!

How would ya'll deal with a fucking huge storm on top of your island oasis? You would be pissed. And hope for the best. Optimism! Wee!

Then....add on to that stupid asshole of a storm, a potential that while you are working on getting a tan in potential downpours, that same fucker of a storm hits your hometown. Where your friends, favorite bar, home, job and cats are. All unattended.

I would probably guess that you would develop an ulcer (and then you would name it Tom).

And then you would drink Vodka. And maybe tequila. And if you had red wine, you would drink it, but you don't, so you stick with vodka.

And then you would pack and hope that all those cute little skirts and bathing suits will come in handy.

At this point, due to the insurance industries' strict definition of "uninhabitable" and disregard for "ideal vacations" which is totally not defined within the policy, it appears that we are going to Jamaica, bitches.

Of course, just like the spot where the storm will hit the U.S., that will change in the next update, in the next hour.

Palpatations

There is a fucking hurricane over Jamaica right now. I am going to kill Gustav. Ya'll...I am freaking out and am super pissed and want to destroy Gustav and his family.

I hope I don't run into any guys named Gustav today. Because I will spit in their general direction. And maybe hiss.

What the hell do you do when there is a fucking hurricane in the path of your vacation?

I twittered that it should hit Europe. I don't hate Europe or anything, well not most parts of it, but I am not flying to Europe in a matter of days. Flying over a fucking hurricane.

Ya'll, I am about to puke and then punch out random people. Which is probably better than the Bloggess who is tattooing random cats today. But whatever. Fucking hurricane.

Someone count the number of times I have used fuck in this post, because that, my friends, is the definition of restraint.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck!!!

Point by Point

1. Texas should not have any open air stadiums. Houston v. Dallas? Houston wins every time. Because we air-condition our stadiums and equip them with retractable roofs, should there be a single day out of the season where it is below 105 degrees and only 92% humidity. Dallas? Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. This is Texas, folks. The annual "Governor's Cup" or whatever it is called, with Houston Texans vs. the Cowboys was this past weekend. At 10 P.M., I was sweating. Football is a cold weather sport. Not a sweating activity. I hate you Texas Stadium. I vote to tear it down.

2. Could anyone out there explain what "wallygosses" are? They are a sort of scary monster to a 3 year old. I have spelled it phonetically, but of course, from a 3 year old, she could be referring to Barney or the Teletubbies.

3. Why did I play a game with a 3 year old where we were breaking out of jail and hiding from the cops. One of us is a bad influence on the other. I am pointing at the kid.

Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!

Oh Hi. Um, how are you doing? Me, I’m fine. Just have been a bit overwhelmed with, well, living, I guess. I never meant to go so long without calling you. I just, I don’t know... it just slipped my mind. You mean so much to me, I am so sorry. I am embarrassed by my actions. Please forgive me.

When last we talked, I posed a contest. A How Long Does It Take Fianna To Be a Lobster Contest.

No one guessed it right! There wasn’t even a closest without going over winner.

Which truly, does not surprise me. At all. Because can anyone even count that low?

The answer to how many minutes did I, the redhead, stay in a tanning bed on her first visit to a tanning place ever. How many minutes did it take to turn me to a pretty pink pink, is . . .

4 Minutes.

Oh how pale I am of the Palest variety of the Pales.

I have gone a total of 3 times so far. I did 4 minutes, then 3 minutes, and 4 again. The last 2 trips, I wore SPF 4 tanning lotion and have not turned pink pink again.

And! Lines!

I has tan!

There is clear and convincing evidence of a tan. Now… look at a piece of white paper. That is before, now, go look at a sheet of ivory paper – like resume paper. That is now. Well, maybe a bit optimistic, but I really really think there is a slight change of color to this white soul.

And if my mom Kaytabug Sophie is reading this, don’t worry, I am taking SPF Forty Bazillion with me to Jamaica.

Winner!

We have 2 winners. Because I said so.

BEV AT SAUNTERING SOUL! She guessed the closest with 5 minutes. I have thought about going 5 minutes…but am skerred. Of the red.

KARMYN R! Karmyn gets first and a half place because she was the closest winner on the first guess.

Ladies! Email me at fiannafiannafianna AT gmail DOT com and provide an address where I can send super cool Jamaican stuff. The supercool stuff that doesn’t get confiscated or end up with me in jail. Sorry. I may love you, but I have been watching Locked Up Abroad. Red is not the only thing I am skerred of.

Operation Jamaica

Our efforts to look like Adonis and well, Adonisa, I guess, at the beach continues.

Tonight I got off work late, ran to the gym, killed myself there, ran home for a quick shower, went tanning again and came home. Once home, I cooked a grilled cheese sandwich and now, minutes after eating it, I sit here typing at 10:30. Whew.

I apologize for not being more responsive on the tanning contest. It does continue as no one has guessed the right number. I will leave it open awhile longer, at least until I get a chance to properly draft a blog post about my tanning adventure.

In the meantime, here is some training for you:



I go bed now.

An Amazing Shade of Red

Facts About My Weekend:

We spent a fortune on booking and buying crap and preparing ourselves for Our Big Vacation. We are going to Jamaica, bitches.

Snorkel! Cannot wait to snorkel. Wonders if I must have flippers. I do have water shoes, for the corals and stuff. Anyone? I am not a lover of the flipper, the shoes, not the dolphin. Dolphins are ok, I guess. Except kinda dumb for swimming with Charlie the Tuna.

I ran another 3 miles without feeling quite like I was going to die. Just kinda sorta. Would have been much easier if I wasn’t wearing shorts that insisted on crawling up inside my body during the run.

In addition to snorkels, and clothing and water shoes purchased for the vacation in Jamaica, we joined a NEWER, BRIGHTER, PRETTIER, THINNER gym. Because if we go to a gym that has skinny, pretty people, maybe we will become skinny and pretty, by osmosis. To me, if it means that I can run the treacherous 3 miles indoors as opposed to outside the doors, I am happy. Even if I have to watch anorexics wander the gym. Although, I could eat them I am so hungry, so they better stay clear.

On this super fast track to looking awesome for Our Big Vacation which is happening in like minutes, we also went to a Tanning Salon.

Hi, my name is Fianna, I am a freaking redhead.

However, I am ever so grateful to have accepted the ribbing from Not Craig about wearing my tightie whities to the tanning salon. I am ever so grateful for the tightie whities. ‘Nuff said.

Today, I am pink. With shades of coral red! This is my first ever visit to a tanning salon. Between Mr. Abercrombie and Mr. Fitch at the front desk talking like retarded valley girls and the Pink Skin, an interesting experience. We are doing this under a free 2 week trial membership so at least I am not paying to burn. And yea, no lectures. I am the one that nicknames her friends, Mela-Noma. I am trying to prepare for spending long hours on the beach. In Jamaica. Bitches.

Let’s have a contest! How many minutes was I in the tanning bed in order to turn a wonderful shade of coral?

The winner will get a prize from Jamaica. But you must be prepared to be patient. When I say I am going in minutes, I mean more like weeks.

I may be an exaggerator. But this exaggerator? Is going to Jamaica!

Go Go Gadget!

When I went to my sister’s for a family get-together this past week, I really didn’t mean to spend a fortune on gadgets.

Ok, that is a lie.

I totally planned on buying a Wii as they are known to be quite populous in that area. And where my parents live. Yet Houston, nowhere. Houston, we have a problem. Well, not anymore because I have a Wii now, but we did. I guess…

I did not plan nor expect nor even ponder buying a robot floor cleaning wizard. It was a decision thrust upon me by my pushy big sister.

That’s my story.

And the store was going out of business so it was a steal.

And I have always really wanted one.

And with the recent death and resulting thoughts surrounding wasted time and pointless arguments that I would always regret, over all things, housework… I needed a Roomba.

That may be the real story, although my sister? Really good for the economy. Dubya may want to give her a call.

The Roomba? I lurve it. With all my heart.

It works wonderfully, sucking up all the stray cat fur, litter and various crumbs that 3 cats and 2 humans shed.

It has caused me way too much happiness for being just a simple cleaning tool.

My love for the Roomba Vs. the Wii?

A close race.

Spent

No matter how many emails you read about capitalizing on today, about living life to its fullest, to appreciating every last bit of life, no matter how many, you won’t do it. Laundry, headaches, bad days will get in the way.

And then, It will happen.

The day that those emails allude to. The Thing You Would Rather Not Think About.

So listen to those cheesy emails that your Great-Aunt from Poughkeepsie sends you. Read them, take them to heart.

Because when It happens, you shouldn’t regret the day that never came.

Fianna will be gone for a little while because It happened to a dear friend of hers. Hug your closest loved one, remember those dear to you, cherish today and tomorrow and 2 weeks from last Wednesday.

Because you won’t have it again. No matter how much laundry has piled up, no matter how many times he left the toilet seat up, no matter what. When it is over, you won’t have another chance.

Why Are The Scots So Bitchy?

Whew. Moving sucks big goat balls. I am tired, tired, and more tired. I am pissy and grouchy and altogether unpleasant to be around. My Our house is a mess.

How quickly gratitude can disappear. How quickly your gleeful attitude turns to irritation. Rudeness. Grumpy McGrumpyness.

Mere days is all it takes to move from being just blown over by how well life is to being a snippy little bitch. Hey, babe….umm…sorry.

I have discussed before the irritation of dealing with small town New Mexico.

My decision to start an import/export business during my “brief” trip to Houston.

Every birthday should end in fast food, tears and vodka shooters.

Monkeys, lower evolutionary development, fucking retarded idiots – semantics – New Mexico has them all baby.

1,001 Reasons to Sue Your Apartment Complex.

There are things that I haven’t written about…my fights with 2 different doctors’ office. The resultant collection attempt that is marring my perfect credit score. My love’s dealings with things that I probably shouldn’t refer to because this is my blog and not his, and my career and not his. Have you seen the movie, The Hills Have Eyes? I wholly believe it was taped in Oil Field, New Mexico. And is a true story. ‘Nuff Said. Word to your mother.

(HAHAHAHA!!! After intense fact-checking because this is a quality blog, well written, researched, and factually accurate – the movie DOES take place in NM. There, Bitches.

So…this is what we were faced with. I flew in Sunday, needed to be moved back across Texas asap so I could return to the Great Law Office in the Sky and draft more TPS reports. We needed to get a U-haul, a trailer, a rebuilt transmission, boxes, return the cable box, pack, clean and get a seal of approval on the clean apartment.

The sheer terror that rose over me thinking of the difficulties we would face when working on this move….

I couldn’t get a piece of fried chicken in this town without a fight. It is simply impossible, (under normal city standards), to do anything in this small town.

I would like a hamburger, no onions or tomatoes, add bacon. HUH! WTH. We don’t have no bacon burger. Well, could you add bacon to a hamburger? NO. We ain’t got no bacon on a burger. Do you have bacon? Yea. Can you place it on top of a burger? NO. I done told you no. We don’t do those high-falutin burger deals here, lady. See. Impossible. You want something. You can’t have it. Welcome to New Mexico.

So…we set out with great trepidation on Monday. We obtained a U-haul, the exact trailer we needed and sufficient boxes in less than an hour. Perfect. Ecstatic exclamations may have been heard.

We then had to obtain a vehicle that was in a shop. A rebuilt transmission. Work that was originally quoted to take a week. We wanted it done over a weekend, ready Monday afternoon. They agreed. We did not truly believe them. We had lived in the area long enough to know the difficulties that arise from needing things from other people. Be it toothpaste from Wal-Mart, a burger from Burger King, a tire rotation at a tire rotation place. Not Easy. Staples has an easy button. These are not advertised at the local Staples. It would be false advertising and I would sue.

The truck was ready when quoted. For the low end of the quote. We passed out. Woke up. Drove the truck home. And it worked. The tranny didn’t fall out. We made it back to Oil Field in one piece. Life was looking up.

I do believe that when things are right, when things are meant to happen, it is clockwork. Greased wheels, however you want to describe it. In a Land of You Cannot Have It How You Want It Because We Said So, we were given everything exactly the way that we wanted, in normal world time, without hassle. In a year of living in this area, this has never before happened. It was unnatural. Supernatural, Yes, Joel Osteen, we were living in the Supernatural.

Life was wonderful. Life is wonderful.

We got all the moving accoutrements in place. We boxed and moved and got rid of a bunch of crap to the bestest home in the entire world.

We drove and drove and drove.

We then hired people to carry all our crap up the 89 stairs that lead to our place. It took them 63 minutes. It would have taken us 6.3 days.

The worst thing we could think of that happened during this blessed week was that my sandwich at McDonald’s was kinda gross. The very worst thing. Hmmm….aren’t we amazingly fortunate.

However, then I have to go and get all involved. I have to “feel” a certain way. I have to get tired and bitchy and cranky. I have a dirty house, boxes everywhere. I am exhausted. And people at work talk to me. I hate when people talk to me. Quit talking to me!!!

And so I get all bitchy with my love. And Cranky McCranksterston hit town and was mean.

My dear, I apologize for being a Fussy McFussy Pants. And for talking all Meany McMeanster.

Forgive me please.

I will make Popcorn shrimp for dinner.

The Answer is 31

One of the things I did not know when we moved to New Mexico last year, was that they had skiing so close to where we moved. We were moving to the Permian Basin, see that second word, a basin, which is flat. The area used to be an ocean. Oceans do not have mountains and skiing.
So last year when we realized just how close we were to a mountain that had snow and ski lifts, we took off and skied. Me! I skied.

Have I told you of my amazing sports expertise? The only extracurricular sport I ever participated in – volleyball. And we were the Deadbeats. And we sucked. Kaytabug, I hope I am not shattering any delusions of grandeur that you may have held onto, we sucked.

I am clumsy and accident prone. And yet, I skied! I absolutely loved it. The beauty, the serenity, the speed when I flew down the mountain. I enjoyed it so much!

Of course, I fell. However, once I kinda sorta got the hang of it though, I didn’t fall too much and most importantly, I didn’t hurt myself when I fell. I absolutely fell in love with skiing.

This year, I was thrilled to go. We have been talking about it for several weeks. I was here in NM just 2 weeks ago, and but for a nasty cold, we would have hit the slopes. This weekend, we were going.

We left Friday night, leaving at 8 P.M. We arrived just before midnight, and settled in for a good night’s sleep, setting the alarm for an early rise in order to hit the slopes early. Of course, we snoozed a bit, and then drug our asses around for a couple hours. We finally headed up the mountain. A 20 minute drive, going 20 mph. It is gorgeous, just a magnificent sight. We get to the lodge and get in line to rent our equipment. Only to find that they don’t rent ski bibs. The pants, a requirement! We could buy pants for just the mere cost of our first born. So we headed back down the mountain. There, we obtained our full rental gear and headed up the mountain once again.

By this time, it was just an hour until the cost of a ski pass would be reduced to the half day cost, so we waited it out, snacking on suspicious carne asada and fajitas. The Mescalero Indian tribe is not known for their ability to cook Mexican food. Just a warning.

Finally, we were off. We headed for the bunny slope to ensure we knew what we were doing. Ran down that a couple times. Once we both felt secure enough in our bunny slope mastery, we headed to the next least difficult slope, the Easy Rider.

The biggest difficulty with skiing is that after you kinda sorta have the hang of it, there are still a lot of people that don’t kinda sorta have the hang of it. They fall, then they sit where they fell, considering who will win the Super Bowl, what they should have for dinner, or which Spice Girl was the hottest. Avoiding these fallen skiers is dangerous and causes me to fall. Even though I kinda sorta have the hang of it.

I love skiing. I love riding up the lifts, looking out at the amazing view, the nervousness of getting off the lift safely, avoiding others and the rush when you start flying down the slope. The rising excitement as you continue down the mountain.

You know, there is no real reason to keep going on and on about this.

Because this is how it really went:

1. Get on ski lift and travel up slope;
2. Get off ski lift;
3. Ski between 10-30 yards;
4. Spot a lump of human flesh on the slope;
5. Fall;
6. Bang tailbone;
7. Bang head;
8. Skid 10 feet;
9. Hurry to my feet to obtain whatever piece of equipment I had lost;
10. Ski down remaining portion of slope where I would:

• a. Repeat steps 4-10; or,
• b. Make it all the way down and repeat all previous steps.

I started fussing at the people gathered around the area where you get off the ski lift at the top of the slope, blaming them for causing many people to fall, because, "Hi, you just got off the lift, the next step is to ski down the mountain, not discuss last night’s American Idol. You are causing a skiing bottleneck."

Then, I would call out the people that caused me to fall. "Hi, I just ate it really bad and may have a severe concussion and separated shoulder because you are sitting on the mountain instead of doing this thing you do at ski resorts, it is a 3 letter word starting with a s and ending with an i. Have a nice day while I hobble down the mountain, jackass."

I seriously made it down just once without falling at all. I made it down 3 times without falling more than once and well, we skied for 4 hours so you figure out the rest.

So whatevers, I am not a ski champ. And I may or may not be to blame for injuring the love of my life. I am sorry, dear, it was that other idiot’s fault that caused us to get all tangled up getting off the lift and causing your knee to become detached and your kneecap to meet your ankle. I am very sorry about that, but I totally blame that Spice Girl wanna-be in the skintight gold ski pants.

I really, really love skiing, although I cannot move my head more than an inch to the left or the right and walking kinda hurts and I can’t raise my arms without wincing and um yea, my pride is totally in traction. Please send flowers.

So that title?

Alex, the question is, what age should you give up skiing?

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.

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.}

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.

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!!

Dread

Within 24 hours, I am going to be packing up half my clothes, all my toiletries, 300+ Ebay items, 3 cats, 2 litterboxes and traveling for 12 hours. Sympathy, please.

I am dreading this. So, so much.

I have to clean the house, empty the fridge, wash clothes, load the car, and stop crying.

I have moved into a hotel once before for a significant time period. It sucks. And the thought of living with two cats in a hotel room for two months. I am shaking.

Oh, and two? Yes, just two. Cass is going to spend her fall vacation with my parents in their luxury digs in Dallas. Because the thought of 3 cats in a hotel room. Prozac? No, morphine drip, please.

So, I am taking the two bad ones, the undisciplined, not behaving and very much hating each other ones with me. I may be drinking as I type this.

I am not sure what the next few days will bring. Besides a lot of stress. A chance to see my parents after way, way too long. And a journey into downtown Houston with pissed off felines.

Think good thoughts please. I must be strong. I must get along. I must stop saying stupid song lyrics.

Next to the Last Vacation Post... (Unless I change my mind. Cuz it's my perogative. I can do what I want to do.)

So, we just left the Grand Canyon.

Before you hit Sin City, you have to go over the Hoover Dam. And it is a sight. My appreciation for the Dam multiplied or at the very least doubled, due to the Transformers movie. Hey, I am just a silly girl, not a history/geology/architecture buff. I couldn’t really care less about it. But it was perty in the movie. And, of course it stood between me and Vegas.


It is an amazing structure. It is fascinating that way back when they had barely created cars, they could build something of this magnitude. But ya know, my waxing all philosophic could have also just been the heat stroke I was experiencing.
So, the dedication of the Dam on September 30, 1935 by FDR, included a mural, star map, and winged figures with now quite well-rubbed toes which were designed by Oskar J.W. Hansen. The star map indicates “dates of historical importance, linking the moment the Hoover Dam was dedicated with such events as the building of the pyramids and the birth of Christ. Hansen believed that "in remote ages to come, intelligent people" would be able to discern "the astronomical time of the dam's dedication”.
So… follow me here, guys….on the most modern structure that, at the time, had ever been constructed, the crowning achievement coming out of the Public Works Project, which employed thousands during the Great Depression, on this testament to the genius of the American mind, there is a monument, a map for future visitors to our planet.

On a government project that, in the 1930’s cost $48 million, commissioned by the U.S. government, there stands a roadmap for aliens.

Oh, I understand. Roswell never happened. Area 51 doesn’t hold Martians. Yet the U.S. Government can pay a Norwegian immigrant buttloads of cash to send a message to aliens.
I don’t buy it, but then again, maybe, just maybe, FDR lost his ass at the craps table in Vegas and this Hansen guy bailed him out.

Santa Fe, oh Santa Fe

Last Friday morning, we woke up. We knew we were on vacation. We knew this was coming. We had talked about it for months. I asked you guys about Europe as we truly planned to go there. But then time got the best of us and Europe was scrapped. And another plan was never placed on the table. We discussed. I checked out books. And researched online. And we talked some more. And again, time got the best of us. So Friday morning comes, we know we are obligated to leave town, because we are NOT spending our 10 day vacation in this place we barely call home. Because then it would be a 10 day cry festival. And no one wants that.

I cooked a lavish breakfast that morning, because the practical girl I am, we needed to empty out the fridge. And we dined and discussed. And probably watched a bit of the History channel. While I played online. And then I packed some stuff. And decided that I better come up with a plan. Because if one of us did not just lay out the plan for the next 24 hours, we would end up staying home another day. So I picked Santa Fe. It wasn’t too far, the next stop could be either North or West without too much difficulty and well, I have always wanted to see Santa Fe.

We left our place around 1 PM and then we leisurely went to Wal-Mart. Ya’ll we have lived in the South long enough to know you don’t embark on a long journey without at least looking around Wal-Mart to ensure that you have everything you need. And apparently we needed XM. I drove to the next town over while Dear looked over the directions and readied the installation of said XM. We then stopped there for a half hour or so and got that all hooked up.

We then drove to Roswell. And stopped at Wal-Mart. I was starting to wonder about this whole vacation thing. Is it just going to be a tour of the Wal-Marts within driving distance of our home? I already mentioned the Roswell fascination with aliens. The whole town is covered in the little green things. And freaking Wal-Mart has a whole souvenir section filled with ‘em.




And then we continued on our trip. XM rocks. After we were situated with XM, we did not stop again until Santa Fe.

I still don’t know if I had the worst lactose issue ever or if I had some guac gone bad, but I was in a bad way from Thursday night until at least the Grand Canyon. With the threat of turning back home, I did my best to hide my misery. At night, it got worse. By the time we hit Santa Fe Friday night, I was pretty miserable. The roads in Santa Fe suck. Suck big donkey … toes. If you have been to San Antonio….very similar. We call around and find a decent hotel price. At least better than the $160 Days Inn look-alike. And we head there. Or at least we think we do. I talked to the front desk three times trying to find our way there. And I end up in tears. I was in pain, lost and very pissy.

After driving around for an hour, we end up scrapping that hotel. And finding a no-tell motel for $30 cheaper, much closer to the downtown area. And they didn’t make me cry. I crawled into bed right away….not getting to experience the Santa Fe nightlife.

The next morning we wake up and head to the beautiful downtown Santa Fe area. The city is gorgeous! Very Austin-ish. Except brown. Most buildings are brown or terra cotta, or adobe, whatever. I swear it must be a city ordinance. Adobe everywhere.






The downtown area is full of cute little shops, art stores and restaurants. They also have a town center park area where a festival was going on. Lots and lots of cool over-priced knick knacks. We ate at a gorgeous restaurant. Unfortunately, I was still not feeling well so we did not truly “Do” Santa Fe. I love the feel of the town, the look. It is a gorgeous city that I would love to see more of.





I sure wish I had more to tell about Santa Fe, but we needed to get on the road so we could get further away from home. I had already been threatened with turning around if I didn’t feel better. So I needed to put some miles behind us so even if I didn’t feel better, it wouldn’t make sense to go home!





Damn guac gone bad.