The men's basketball coach (Mike) took the tennis coach (John) to the doctor's office yesterday as it was raining and John had ridden his bike to work. There were three clinics in this one medical building - one of those butt-scoping docs, a urologist, and a dermatologist. John is over fifty so Mike assumes he's going to the urologist. Our golf coach who is also over fifty had prostate cancer and surgery last year so we worry about these thing. Today Mike was in my office when John called. John and I talk about some business stuff and then Mike tells me to ask about John's penis. So I did. "John, Mike wants me to check on your penis. Is it okay?" After total quiet and then some stumbling and stuttering John replies, "It's okay. I wish it were 3-4 inches longer but all in all it's been good to me." Then we find out John didn't go to the urologist, he went to the dermatologist. Ha!!!

 

My sister-in-law rendezvoused with her sister today in my town so that their mother could go home with my sis-in-law. I met them all for dinner. The sister's 17 year old daughter was with her and was bragging that her daddy had told her that if she behaves and makes good grades then she can get her tongue pierced. So, thinking I'm gonna be funny, I ask her, "Why - you a lesbian?" To which she replied, "No, yes, welllll, I'm bi." Okay, she probably broke me from asking that question ever again. I mean, I don't CARE - I just wasn't expecting that answer. She had the look of one who is likely sexually experienced, I just forget that sexual experience is a lot more advanced than it was when I was seventeen. The things kids experiment with nowadays were only seen in porn movies when I was a kid. I felt kinda like a virgin again when I realized how boring she would find my sexual resume. And, Good Lord, we NEVER would have discussed it at the dinner table!! Sheesh. I guess maybe it wasn't as big a sin if you didn't talk about it...

 

I just talked to my niece whose birthday it is today. She and her boys are on their way home and had stopped to spend the night in Amarillo. They were having dinner at that famous restaurant that offers a free steak if you can eat the whole thing in an hour. It's a big-ass steak. You have to eat all the sides, too, to qualify for the free steak. If you don't make it you have to pay about $75 for the steak dinner. My niece and her kids planned to have a regular-sized meal. The biggest steak I've ever had was probably about 24 ounces, and I didn't have any side dishes with it. Bleah. I think that thing sat in my gut for weeks. Bad idea. Very bad idea...but it didn't seem like it at the time.

 

Oh, gosh. I'm sleepy all of a sudden. I'm off to bed before the urge to sleep goes away. I've slept like crap lately. G'night....sweet dreams...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My job is one of a supportive nature. "Support staff." Bleah. As a consequence, when everyone else does their job well my job is a piece o' cake - but when they don't, my work load grows exponentially. We have several new coaches this year so I'm havin' a helluva time. We have one coach who keeps coming to me and askin' for my help, tells me how wonderful I am, how smart I am, how crucial I am to our department, blah blah blah. Like I've never heard all that bullshit before, right? This ain't my first rodeo, after all. He's been here several months now and he's still pulling the same ol' crap. Duh. Like I can't figure out that he's playin' helpless so I'll do his paperwork "while I show him how it's done"? Wow, isn't he smart to think of that ploy? Sheesh. Nobody's ever done that before. Hmmph. The other day he came in, whining, needing my help because I'm so wonderful, and I smiled sweetly at him and said, "Of course, I'll help you, but I think I have some advice that will help you remember what you need to know." Him, "You do? Because I need all the help I can get." Me, "Oh yeah. I've learned over the last thirty years that these words have been very effective in speeding up the learning curve for coaches. So listen..." Him, "Yeah?" Me, "You've been here for several months now, and if you think this bullshit helpless act is gonna fly much longer you're stupider than you think I am." He reared back in his chair and looked at me like he couldn't believe I figured it out, or couldn't believe I had the cahones to call him on it. My boss, always within earshot, laughed until he cried. The coach is either learning his business or doing a bunch of stuff incorrectly, but I haven't gotten nearly as many calls. Coaches are funny. They draw Exes and Ovals on a piece of paper and draw arrows and speak in a language that might as well be foreign because it makes no sense to anyone else, but they can't fill out a requisition. We all have our strengths. I know I wouldn't even know how to draw up a zone defense or quarterback sneak.

 

Genny went home last night. Since I had Timber "fixed" he doesn't get nearly as excited about Genny's visits. This time he acted much more jealous than usual. He spent most of his time trying to keep himself between Genny and me. My arms are sore from trying to give both dogs an equal amount of petting. Genny checks the food bowl everytime she comes into the house. When her people brought her last week she ran to the back of the house. The kids said, "Genny didn't even say goodbye." I told them she was checking the bowl and would be right back. Sure enough... It didn't matter if I put her out for a five-minute pee break or all day while I was at work - the first thing she did was check to be sure there was food. She didn't eat everytime but I guess it was comforting to know food was there. She's a sweet, sweet dog. Her owner told me he may not put up with her much longer. She's about 7 years old and is one of those dogs who freaks out at the sound of a thunderstorm, fireworks, or a gunshot. If she's in the yard when one of those things happens, she manages to find a way to get out of their chainlink fence. She absolutely goes into a blind panic. The other morning my neighbor was dragging her trashcan up the driveway and I guess Genny thought it was thunder because she woke me up trying to get into the bed with me. Since it was 5:30 a.m. I just dragged Genny into the bed, cussed my neighbor in my head, and went back to sleep. All that to say, if the guy says he's getting rid of Genny I have to decide whether I'll take her or not. He didn't say that, but I would hate to see them take her to the shelter or have her put down. I would rather see her put down than have to live in the shelter. At her age I don't imagine she would get adopted, which means, well, you know what they do there at Doggie Auschwitz. I don't know why I'm pretending to debate it in my mind. Of course she would come live with us. It would be odd because I didn't really want ONE lab, much less TWO. But sometimes there are reasons for things we're not meant to understand. Timber sure has turned out to be a good dog... Hopefully the guy's six kids would mutiny on Genny's behalf.

 

Tomorrow is my oldest niece's first birthday. Seems like just yesterday. I was fourteen. Since it was summertime I was staying with my brother and sister-in-law to "help" as she was springin' heavy. As my brother left for work he said, "Don't let [her] do too much." Well, shitballs, I guess nobody ever told him that a lot of pregnant women start "nesting" right before time to deliver. And boy did she start nesting that day. I followed that heifer around all day taking over chores she would begin. We mopped the house twice. Twice, dammit! We cleaned the bathrooms a coupla times, cleaned out cabinets, and washed clothes and stuff that I don't think were even dirty! Mid-afternoon she decided she was hungry for some sherbert. My brother had the car at work so I walked down the road to a little store and bought us each a pint of sherbert. When I got home she skarfed down her's and began eyeing mine so I handed it over. That night she went into labor. I was glad because I didn't think I could take another day like that one. Whew!! That was the last time I was at the hospital when a new niece or nephew was born as I became the "designated babysitter" from that day forward and had to stay home with the others when a new one came along. And thus began the saga of how I became the very bestest auntie in the entire history or the world...

 

Why is it that I wake up before 8:00 a.m. on Saturday and Sunday, nap on Saturday afternoons (usually), and still manage to go to sleep by midnight - but then on Sunday night I can't go to sleep and then canNOT get up on Monday morning? I'll yawn my ass off (like I'm doing now) but when I lay down in the bed my eyes pop open and I can't go to sleep. It'll be that way all damn week.

 

S'posed to go to a big party Friday night. Our sporting goods rep is havin' a big fish fry, low-country boil for area coaches and stuff. Free beer, free food - I'm there! I need to go get some bug spray, though, because it'll be a pasture party and mosquitos'll be thick. The rep was tellin' me about it the other day and asked if I like crawfish. I told him crawfish were like datin' a white boy - lots o' work and not much meat. Ha!!!! Gee, I wonder if that'll be repeated at the party? That's an old joke but he had never heard it. I really wish I would think before I talk.

 

I'm outta here - it's time to go toss and turn...

 

 

 

 

I stopped watching regular season NBA games two years ago. I can't help sneaking a peak at the playoffs but I got so tired of the spoiled, petulant behavior of the "professionals" who are making more money than God. I've had the sneakin' suspicion for several years that games, especially the playoffs, are "fixed." Why else would a team who has dominated everyone else all year allofasudden get taken to seven games in a best-of-seven playoff series? TV revenue, ticket sales, and advertising dollars, Baby!! Terrell Owens almost ruined the Cowboys for me in football, but Tony Romo won me back. I heard a report the other day on a news report that there have been over 300 arrests of NFL players in the last ten years. That's ridiculous. You know who's paying their salaries? You and me, Buddy. We're watching the games on tv, we're payin' out the ass to attend games at stadiums that the rich owners have conned cities into paying for with taxes or bonds that you and I are paying off. And, I don't know about YOUR job, but if I pulled some of the shit that these guys have done, I would be fired. Not put on probation, not suspended for a few games, but out and out F-I-R-E-D. If I have a bar fight, get arrested for domestic violence, go to work high, have charges filed for animal abuse, or drive under the influence, my ass is out on the street. It is absolutely sickening to me that grown-ass men can get away with practically anything just because they can perform well on a court or a field. I know Charles Barkley said the only role model your kid ought to have is his father, but Charles was being naive if he thought kids don't watch and imitate what he did on the court. Go to your local pee-wee football games or little dribblers games. You'll see tiny kids dancing in the endzone, spiking the ball, or arguing with the referee. My friend's little boy is a pretty good little athlete. Everytime he scored a touchdown in the pee-wee league, he would pound his chest and point to the sky (a common display of "religious faith" performed by many athletes after a good play because, after all, it ain't for the millions and millions of dollars - it's all for the glory of God)(yeah, RIGHT). She asked the little boy why he did that and he had no idea other than he had seen some bigtime player do it. I told a friend of mine who played here and then USC and then in the NBA that it was amusing to see how he had changed. In high school and junior college he wouldn't tell trainers when he was injured because he didn't want to be benched. Then at USC he had some shoulder surgery and began spending a lot of time with the trainers - not just for shoulder rehab and maintenance - but for massages and whirlpools and stem treatments (electrical shocks that work the muscle). Once he got to the NBA he had a special routine, personalized diet and nutrition plan that included a plastic container of vitamins and supplements (all legal!), off-season training program, and would go to the doctor for every little injury. As I sat in his [very fancy & expensive] hotel room one day before a game, the team trainer came to his room and was massaging his strained whatever and doing some stem and ice treatments. I laughed and he asked what was funny. I told him it wasn't so much "funny" as "amusing" that once he turned pro he turned into a puss. I thought the trainer was gonna swallow his tongue. This guy got all that special treatment and he wasn't even a starter! Can you imagine how spoiled the superstars are? Holy moly. There have been many days when I wanted to choke my boss to the ground like Latrell Sprewell did a few years back, but people in real life don't do that kind of stuff without feeling the repurcussions. Ya remember what happened to Sprewell? They traded him. Then the press even started reporting that a lot of people 'didn't blame him" because the coach he choked "was an asshole." So what if he's an asshole? The dude choked him!!! There IS a way to stop the madness. If a player is convicted of a felony charge, KICK HIS ASS OUTTA THE LEAGUE. It would take maybe five times for this to happen and the Leagues to stick by their guns and owners to back them up and players would straighten their asses out. Put out the message "Screw up and you don't make the big money." And then the league commissioners and the owners could proudly pound their chests and point to the heavens because THEY would have done something worthy of God's approval.

 

This whole Michael Vick dogfighting thing is repulsive but, believe me, he is not the only NFL player to participate in dogfighting. I know at least one other guy who personally told me that he fights pitbulls, and he told me of several of his NFL friends who do the same thing. Excuse my stereotyping but it ain't like these guys are gonna go home in the offseason to read the classics, and there are only so many games you can play on xbox and Playstation3 before becoming bored. Their lives are all about the physical, the competition, and in football, violence. The male athletes I know prefer action movies packed with loud music, car crashing, and lots of violence.

 

Used to be that the American work ethic was so people could better themselves and provide better lives for themselves and their families. So often with the pro athletes, instead of overcoming all the tribulations of growing up in ghettos filled with drive-bys and drug-dealing, the guys allow their childhood friends to become "hangers-on." They have these entourages of guys who haven't done a damn thing to improve their own lives but will live high-on-the-hog off their buddy who lucked into professional sports. Because, even if an athlete is the greatest specimen in the world, there is still a huge amount of luck involved with making it professionally. One injury in high school or college can end everything. Anyway, these parasites that hang onto their rich buddy have nothing to lose, no reason to be productive. As a result, many professional athletes don't get above their raising, they just create fancier ghettos for themselves and their friends. Not only that, the athlete's ass is kissed so much that his skin starts puckering from all the spit. The guy starts thinking he's a king and that he's superman that can't be touched by common rules and laws. And right now he knows that even if he does get into trouble, his team is gonna bail him out because they need him on the field. Well, I cry bullshit. For every guy who makes it into the NBA or NFL there are six more at least as good waiting for their chance. So, PLEASE, Mr. Commissioner.....kick 'em out!!!

 

I love sports. Well, most of 'em. I love the true heart of an athlete. But this country has created monsters in the forms of professional athletes. There have been a few in the past few years who play for love of the game and for whom money is secondary, like Brett Favre, Karl Malone, John Stockton, Tony Romo, and every minor-league baseball player in the world (ha!). For the most part, though, teams are filled with self-serving egomaniacs. And the owners suffer from the same ailment. Someday soon every game will be a Pay-per-View event, blue-collar families will have to take out loans to buy tickets to a professional sporting event, and the winners will be decided by text-messaging your favorite team's code to a designated number. And that's the day that MizAngie will be in the front yard playing snocky-ball with the neighborhood kids, watching well-used copies of The Natural, Hoosiers, and Rudy, and looking through old copies of Sports Illustrated.

 

Ah, well. For now I'm still a part of the problem since I like to watch football on Sunday afternoon, especially when it gets rainy and cold, and I still watch basketball playoffs. However, I now watch more college ball than I do pro as the kids still get excited about it and still play team ball as opposed to working for their own stat sheet. If I were a camel, though, I would be about three straws away from having my back broken. (As in the old saying, "the straw that broke the camel's back.)

 

Okay.....G'night on three..........one-two-three-G'night!! Me and my pom-poms are goin' to bed...

Well, glorious email has enabled me to fuss with my sister all week as opposed to having one big blowout and then getting over it. Ugh. Since she hung up on me the other night I sent her an email, to which she sent an evil reply, to which I sent a scathing (her word) reply, to which I got an email dismissing me, to which I sent a sarcastic reply thanking her for her loving and cooperative attitude. My sister-in-law called tonight to tell me to leave it alone and give her some time and space. That might end the conflict but it won't solve the problem. But, in actuality, I guess nothing will solve the problem because we won't ever see eye-to-eye on these issues. I've had several people tell me that they, too, have family members that they had to omit from their lives because of one thing or another. I'm having a hard time thinking about doing that with my sister because I love her - I just can't get along with her. When we do get along it's in very short spurts. Back in 1957 my Daddy told my then five-year-old sister that he was taking my mother to the hospital to get her a new baby brother or sister. Her reply? "If it's a girl don't bring it home." She meant it. I think she's been pissed off about me ever since, because they did bring me home and I was real cute. Where she was a tomboy who preferred playing cowboys and indians with my brother, I was playing with dolls and wearing ruffly dresses. My brother got attention because he was the oldest and "the boy." I got attention because I was the baby (and did I mention how cute I was?). My sister had middle child syndrome before there was such a thing. We're so different, especially in the way we relate to other people. For all my moodiness and crankiness, I'm more easy-going than my sister. Despite all our differences, I love her very much. I love my brother very much, and during my childhood idolized him like a rock star. But there's something about a sister. We share things my brother would never relate to. Our innards are very similar (similar menstrual cycles, etc) even though the outsides are very different. Neither of us have ever married and have faced similar prejudices, misconceptions, and tribulations of being old maids. In many ways I feel closer to my sister than to anyone else, then in other ways I find it hard to believe we came from the same loins. So I'll give her space to lower her current level of pissivity (and so my own can do the same). After that....who knows?

 

The atmosphere is beginning to change at work. The push is on to prepare for the onslaught of athletes, cheerleaders, band, and drill team. Supplies are arriving and being put away, physicals are prepared for, registration for classes, on and on and on... We drug test as part of the physicals. It always amazes me that we will have a few kids flunk their drug test even though they KNOW they'll be peeing in a cup when they get here. There will be a few who try to dillute the sample, a few drill team girls will test positive because they've been taking over-the-counter diet pills, and a coupla kids will deny til they die that they ever touched marijuana or drugs of any kind and swear the test must be wrong. After two-a-days begin the training department will prepare ice baths each day after the last practice for the football and soccer guys to get in. They have to stay in the icy water for a certain amount of time to aid in soreness of the muscles. They dared me to get in with 'em one time so I stuck my legs in. I sat on the edge of the "tub" for about two minutes and had to get OUT. Holy moly. That was allll I could take. They told me I should have stayed in longer and that I eventually would have gotten past the pain and gone to numb. I told them I would sign a paper or whatever admitting I am a wimp because there was no way I was getting back in there! hahaha.

 

I'm amazed at the number of kids we have from other countries, and how strong they are to be able to be away from home for months at a time. Some have even come over and not been able to return home for two or three years. I went to college two hours from home and had to drop out and enroll somewhere closer due to homesickness. w-i-m-p. Mama's Baby, Daddy's Girl, all that. Main reason? Boyfriend!! haha. I moved home, transfered to another college, all for a boy I was madly in love with. I was home about two weeks before we broke up. Ha!

 

While I type this I'm listening to Dateline NBC's To Catch a Predator. People are frickin' CRAZY. I wonder if this is just an American phenomenon or if it's as bad everywhere due in part to the internet? I think it's so weird that there's only been mention of one predatory woman in all these episodes. I just wonder why men do it so much more than women. Remember that movie "Looking for Mr. Goodbar"? They need to show that again every few months. That movie alone scared me bad enough to not do anything stupid. Well, mostly. tee-hee.

 

Okay, it's beddy-by time so I'm off to ZZZZ-land. Have a great day...

I had a bad Monday because I argued with my sister yesterday and she hung up on me. Although I don't shy away from conflict, I don't like it, either. As I asked a friend, how can I want to slap the piss outta somebody and hug them tightly all at the same time? Only people who matter to ya can create emotion like that. I don't know which of us is "right" or "wrong" in this situation. I will never, as long as I live, understand how my siblings and I can be so different when we grew up in the same house with the same parents. I do know that my parents would be very sad that my siblings and I are drifting further and further apart. It doesn't feel natural or right to me but I'm worn out from trying to do things to draw us together. And I'm not the poor little put upon one who is totally without fault, either. My dislike of travel has a lot to do with me not seeing my family more. I don't know. I feel kinda hopeless and pitiful at the moment.

 

I gave Timber a bath a little while ago. He must feel real good right now because he's prancing around showing off his beautiful and clean body. I bathed him with his anti-itch oatmeal shampoo and then poured a flea-dip over him as a finishing touch. He shook for about five minutes so I'm pretty sure that the two of us will be fairly flea free for a couple of weeks. Ugh. When he gets dry he'll get a new Frontline. I only say one flea on him while I was bathing him. Well, I think it was a flea. It may have been a Volkswagon. It was a helluva flea.

 

A friend came to visit today and brought me a watermelon. Mmmmm. He grows 'em on his farm down close to Beaumont (TX). I used to steal watermelons when I was a teenager. It's what kids out in rural Texas used to do for fun. We wouldn't steal a bunch, just one or two to eat. We would eat the heart out of 'em and then throw the rest over a fence for cows to eat. We were happy, the cows were happy - I guess everyone but the farmer got a good deal. Ha! After I was with a group who got shot at one time I never went with 'em to steal any more. Ha!!! Hmmmm. I wonder if I could get somebody to stand in the parking lots of my favorite restaurants and shoot at me when I go there for dinner? Then I could write a new diet book called "The Shotgun Diet." Makes as much sense as some of the other diet books on the market right now.

 

I have this week and next before all hell breaks loose for the 2007-08 school year. Football, volleyball, and soccer will report for two-a-days (two practices per day) on August 6. Ugh. I always worry about the big football guys practicing in the extreme Texas heat. It's mid-July and we haven't had one day at 100 degrees. That's awesome but incredible to believe. I'm hoping the high heat stays away alllll summer. Last summer we had eleven straight days in July of 100+ temperatures. Our training staff is excellent at hydrating the athletes, and they have to pass physicals before they get on the field. But ya never know when that random heart murmur or something will cause a tragedy. I don't mean to borrow trouble, but it's something that everyone involved with an athletic department worries about every year. Anyone who has experienced such an occurrence knows how horrible it is to have to call someone to tell them their child has died. Two years ago we had a young man on the baseball team die of meningitis. Verrrrrry sad. If you have a kid heading to college, please have them vaccinated for meningitis before they go. You would be surprised how common meningitis is on college campuses, especially in dormitories.

 

Well, I think I'll draaaaaag my pitiful self to bed. I'm determined not to be so sad tomorrow. This too shall pass.....right?

 

 

I went to Dallas yesterday for Addie's first birthday party. I think, if she had had her choice, there would not have been so many people. She kept looking at us like we were from Mars and wouldn't get far from her Mama or Daddy. After the "extra" party people left and just family was there she loosened up and started playing and stuff. I liked it better, too. Addie had a "pool party." My niece had gotten this way cool inflatable pool that had a palm tree, a slide, a kiddie pool (!), and water basketball thing. It was so cute! The theme was "rubber ducks" because Addie likes the little yellow rubber ducks. I got her a foot-tall rubber duck and some smaller ones. I'm SURE they were her favorite gifts. I also made the tablecloth for the picnic table out of fabric that had little ducks on it. My niece made the cake herself and it was awesome. I made my nephew an apron with Addie's pix on it and he wore that while he was the grillmaster. He was the life of the party. The kids wouldn't wear the little cone-shaped birthday hats but my nephew wore his all day. Ha!!

 

Last week when I came home from my brother's house I stopped and helped some women who had a flat. That really got me thinking about what I would do if I had a flat. I planned to get my nephew (the mechanic) to show me how to use the jack, where to put it, and where my spare tire is located. (The one on the truck, not the one I carry around my waist. Ugh.) My truck is a small SUV; looks a lot like a Jeep Liberty but it's NOT one. Anyway, I pulled and tugged on some little handle-looking things in the back of the truck the other day looking for my damn spare. They wouldn't budge. I bent down and looked under the truck - no spare that I could see. I was beginning to wonder if I even HAVE a spare tire! Well, on the way to Dallas I looked in my rearview mirror and realized that my spare tire is mounted on the back of the damn truck. I see that damn tire everytime I go to the truck. To unlock the back of the vehicle where the jack is located, I had to put my key into the keyhole that is located right beside that spare tire. I don't think there are words that can explain how stupid I felt (feel - I'm not over it yet).

 

My brother has asked me several times if I know how to make "Mother's Pizza." I kinda do. She never wrote recipes down for stuff like that so, going by memory of watching her cook, I tried to make him a pizza. I had her dough recipe so the crust tasted pretty much the same, but he didn't think the rest of it was close. My sister-in-law and I thought it was pretty close, but he didn't. He had his mouth all puckered up for a certain flavor he remembered and I didn't have it in that pizza, whatever it was. He told something I never knew, though, about why Mother made her pizza the way she did. After WWII, one of their neighbors was an Italian woman who married an American G.I.. She taught Mother how to make the deep dish pizza. It's nothing like you get at any of the pizza chains. I made a full recipe for the dough, but only made one pan of pizza. I used the other dough to roll out into cinnamon rolls. My niece called to say they baked them off this morning for breakfast and they were fabulous. I'm glad they liked 'em.

 

Timber and I are dogsitting Genny this week while her family goes on vacation. Genny is terrified of storms. I'm hoping we don't have any this week. She goes nuts and has broken through her fence many, many times. I don't want her to do that on my watch, and I reallllly don't want her to mess up my fence. At her house they have a chainlink and ours is a privacy fence, so hopefully she wouldn't be able to get out. Other than that she is a sweet little ol' labby. And Timber enjoys the company...

 

I guess Yellow Cat is gone for good. He's been MIA for over a week now. At least there's no yechy smell coming from under the house so at least he didn't die under there. I bet he found somebody's garage or something to stay in during the bad rain and they started feeding him and now he's living happily ever after...

 

Y'all have a good week.

 

My friend is depressed and has been all week. This is very out-of-character for her and I'm worried. She's bubbly, vivacious, funny. She laughs at everyone's jokes, even if she's heard them before. She's genuine about it, too. About a month ago she found a lump under her arm and went through the usual mammograms, sonograms, exams, etc. Everything checked out fine. The lump was a result of an infection somewhere and she took antibiotics and it went away. During her ordeal I kept saying to myself that I needed to tell her how much she means to me. Indeed, how much she means to all of her friends. Then the scare was over and I never did tell her. Gay (her name) is the peacemaker, the social secretary, the catalyst for activity, and the glue (common bond) that keeps an odd assortment of women together as friends. While I usually have one or two good friends and then several regular-ol' friends, Gay is good friends with nearly everyone she meets. I had to adjust my way of thinking about friends when I became Gay's friend because I'm possessive. I wasn't used to having to share a best friend. Gay is worth changing a lifelong pattern for, though, because she is loving, loyal, caring - all the things you look for in a best friend. Anyway, I didn't tell her. At our age we take turns being hormonal (menopause - ugh!). We normally try to wait each other out, let each other know we care about them, but it's fairly light-hearted stuff. The blahs usually pass after a few days and life goes on. But Gay's hormonal swings usually last a lot less time than the rest of ours, and she's very seldom as far down in the dumps as she is right now. She shared with me yesterday that she is filled with self-loathing and disgust. WHAT? I couldn't believe it. I had never heard her talk like this before. Now, I say shit like that all the time because I'm all about self-consciousness and self-loathing - but not her. So I finally got around to telling her how special she is. I thought maybe she needed to hear it as much as I felt like I should have told her a month ago. We did what women do in that situation - we cried. Although she's still depressed, she was thankful to hear that the thought of anything happening to her made me sick to my stomach. She's the friend I gave a house key to so she could come in and find my dead body if she didn't hear from me every few days, or at least meet the sheriff's department over there so they could look. When I ignore everyone else's calls, I answer her's. I know she would drop everything to help me, and I want her to know I would do the same for her. I feel bad that she feels badly. I'm rackin' my brain trying to think of something that will cheer her up.

 

So now I am going to let each of my friends and family members know how much they mean to me. What if something had happened, either to her or to me, and I had not told my friend how special she is? I would go the rest of my life feeling guilty! And she wouldn't have experience the warm, fuzzy feeling ya get when somebody tells ya nice things. Sometimes it's not enough just to BE nice. Sometimes we don't trust our own interpretations and need to actually hear in words how people feel. We're all so busy nowadays that opportunities often slip by without us taking advantage of them.

 

Aaaaaaghhhhhhh!!!! Life.....

{BIG HUGE SIGH} It's back to the salt mines tomorrow. My five days off flew by. I went to my brother's house on Thursday and came home yesterday. Fun stuff. As badly as I hate being away from home, I love being with family more. I spent most of my time keeping CeeCee entertained. She's so funny. There was a toy in the floor that had four piano-looking keys on it. The keys looked like "C" through "F". Well, I play the piano a little bit so I thought I would amuse CeeCee by playing and singing "Mary Had a Little Lamb" on the little toy. So I hit the keys and PERFECTLY played the song. I was so frickin' impressed with myself! Maybe I've underestimated my natural musical talent, I thought. So I played it again. Niiiice. Then, a few minutes later, CeeCee played it. Well, kinda. My dumbass realized that all ya had to do was hit the first key and it played the entire song from a little chip. Sheesh. My two oldest great-nephews were a blast to be around. I don't get to see them nearly enough. I guess Timber and the dogsitter did okay. Timber was glad to see me and slept like a rock last night curled into the bend of my knees.

 

I crossed the Brazos, Little Brazos, and Trinity Rivers yesterday, as well as a big creek whose name escapes me. All were out of their banks and runnin' fast due to all the rain. The Trinity River was WAY out of its banks spilling into bar-ditches by the roads. It was amazing, especially for July. The pastures were bright green and beautiful. I saw Bambi and his mama right before I got into Buffalo (TX). I almost always see deer along that stretch of road. I went through a stretch that left lots of bug remains on my windshield - mosquitos!! They were as thick as love bugs in the spring!! (Some people call 'em love bugs, some call 'em telephone bugs. There are always two little fly-sized bugs stuck together as if havin' sex, hence the love bug title. Telephone bugs because they say hello and then hang up.)

 

I took one of my nephews to get sno-cones. The lady running the sno-cone shop was hilarious. She knew everybody and everybody's business. I got a delicious strawberry sno-cone but had to answer a deluge of questions about where I'm from, who I know in that town, how long was I stayin'? I grew up in small towns so I know how to play that game. In fact, I catch myself unconsciously doing the same thing when I meet new people. It's like I'm lookin' for the trail of the six degrees of separation between me and everybody else in the world. I laugh at myself for being so small-town. I keep askin' questions until I find a common area and then zero in on that to see if we know any of the same people or seen some of the same sights. Weird, huh?

 

I was a good Samaritan on the way home. There were two ladies and three kids in a car whose tire had gone flat. They didn't have a jack. It's very unusual for me stop and help because I'm always afraid it's a ruse to rob, rape, or kill me. AS IF! Sad, isn't it? Something just made me stop yesterday and we were all glad I did. And I hadn't been there but a few minutes when a sheriff's deputy came by and stopped. Anyway, we got the tire changed and we all got on our way within about 30 minutes. I have a jack but I don't think it would do me much good if I had a flat tire. It's a little bitty thing and I have a small SUV that sits up higher than a car. I should probably get a bigger jack. I'll ask my nephew the mechanic about it.

 

Gotta run. I'm boilin' a chicken and it's done so now I'm gonna make some dumplins. Mmmmm. Wish I had some fresh tomatoes outta Mitch's garden! Double-yum!!

 

Y'all have a good week. Wish me strength for my first day back from vacation. There is a strong possibility that if people are acting crazy I could be arrested for biting off somebody's head and shittin' down their neck. Ugh.

Today was chore day. I cleaned the house so the dog-sitter wouldn't get typhoid and so it would be clean when I get back home. Then I ran several errands in the sauna that IS East Texas. Ugh! The humidity is at 80-something percent with a temp of 90ish. Forget makeup. Forget hairstyles. Forget living without air conditioning. Ha! Timber knows something's up. I picked his collar up this morning when I was cleaning off the table and he started jamming his head through trying to put it on. I felt a little guilty tinge since I'll be going without him tomorrow. I'm already having separation anxiety. I'm trying not to so he won't get it, but daaaaang. I realllllly don't like leaving home. So now it's nearly 10:00 pm and I'm just now washing clothes that I will need to take with me tomorrow. Such is the life of a procrastinator. Timber was pissed today when I finished cleaning the house. He thought we had a white shag rug but it was just the fur he shedded. Ha!! I was very generous when my dog-sitter came by to pick up his key. I said, "Make yourself at home. Anything in the kitchen that you want to eat is YOURS." I hope the boy likes soured milk and green sandwich meat. hahahaha. I haven't been to the store in a while. My dog-sitter is a very sheltered, naive, sweet little ol' boy. He'll be a junior in college next year but he looks and seems about 16. I told him he was not to have wild sex parties and orgies over here, especially with drinking as he isn't 21 yet. This sweet little boy pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and pretended to make a call. Me, "Who the hell are you calling while I'm talking to you?" Him, "I'm cancelling the hookers." My teeth nearly fell outta my head and they're not dentures. I laughed so hard.

 

I've been watching a show on Animal Planet that's about a woman in England who is a dog trainer. She's good! I wish she would come to Texas and teach Timber and I how to behave. There were two blonde labs on her show last night and I kept trying to get Timber to pay attention. They acted similar to him by running off if let off the leash, pulling their master when he tried to take them for a walk, eating stuff off the table/cabinet, etc. At least Timber doesn't chew up good stuff like shoes or furniture (probably because there are so many tennis balls and bones layin' around the house). One time I said to Timber, "Look! Look how well Jimmy and Duke are behaving now! Don't you want to act sweet like that?" Timber looked at me as if to say, "Those dogs are pussies." Then he smiled contentedly and put his head back down on his pallet. He stretched and made that moany noise in his throat, you know,  the one that signifies total comfort and contentment. He's so spoiled and I take full credit for it.

 

STILL no sign of Yellow Cat.

 

I was talking to a friend about my hoarding issues. Told her I wished I could get rid of some stuff but just couldn't bear to part with certain things. She looked around my living room and asked if I were kidding. "No." Friend, "You have no furniture. You can't be officially designated as a hoarder unless your house is so jam-packed with stuff that you have to walk through like a crab." "Oh." See, I gave my couch to my sister, I'm using the coffee table as a tv stand, so all that's left is a glider, Timber's day bed (two stacked dog beds), and a wicker chair. LOTS of floor space. My sister needed a couch and I wasn't in love with mine, so off it went to Austin. Now I'm waiting for just the right one to catch my eye. I saw one in a magazine that would be PERFECT for me. It was made from an old bed using the headboard for the back and foot board for the ends. So now I'm looking for an old bed to make me a couch. I love recycled stuff like that.

 

Poor ol' Lady Bird Johnson died today at the age of 94. She was a gracious and strong Texas lady. I loved listenin' to her talk. So refined. I was privileged to meet her a coupla times at some events when my brother was in the Texas Legislature a few years back. We sat a few rows behind her daughters at a big shin-dig honoring Prince Charles when he visited back in the 90s. This event was emceed by Walter Cronkite with performances by lots of big-time performers of the day who were born in Texas. I was just there to see Willie Nelson. We were dressed to the nines, of course. We thought we had crappy seats because we were in the balcony, but then realized they put Prince Charles and other dignitaries up there, too, for security purposes. They had front row balcony - we were back a few rows, like I said. Anyway, everytime someone performed we did the polite little clapping thing but then the lights were dimmed almost all the way down and the stage shifted and Willie Nelson rose up out of the darkness playing the first strains of "Whiskey River." I was so excited I was about to bust. I held it in as long as I could and then jumped up outta my seat and did a Texas-sized "Whooooooooooooooooop!!!!!!" My brother tried to disappear as people turned to look, and then Linda Baines and Lucy Bird (Lady Bird's daughters) did the same. It was awesome. I've always wondered, if I had behaved with more decorum, if anybody would have had as much fun because I surely did break the ice. No brag, just fact.

 

Another cool [different] concert moment? Conway Twitty. The lights went totally black and then he started singing "Hello, Darlin'" I had chills all over. He had such a deep voice and I really like that old country (REAL country). He was old and wearin' this goofy knit jumpsuit (like Elvis used to wear), had a sparse "natural" (white man's afro), big ol' bags under his eyes from livin' hard, but for a moment while he was singin' the thought came to me that, "Ew, I'd like t' DO him." I mean, that voice!!! Whew. I coulda left the lights off and we both would have been happy. Hahahahha!!

 

Speaking of having chills all over... They're doin' a story on the news about things people are dealing with now that flood waters are subsiding. One woman had horses on her front porch because that was the only place they had to stand outta the water. Mostly, though, people are finding SNAKES everywhere. Rattlesnakes, copperheads, chicken snakes, and water moccasins (pronounced mockskins in ET) got washed outta there homes and they're finding them in all kinds o' places. I'm tellin' ya now - if I find a damn snake in my house I will shit and fall in it! It won't matter if it's poisonous or not because I'll die of a frickin' heart attack from fear.

 

Have you ever noticed how regular days at work draaaaaag by but vacation days FLY? I blinked on Monday and when I opened my eyes it was Wednesday. Shit! I'll be with my CeeCee the rest of the week, and her two little boy cousins that are hilarious. I'm gonna be so tired by Sunday...

 

Enjoy the rest of your week!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I got home late last night from "Big D." It is my observation that every main thoroughfare in the Dallas-Ft Worth Metroplex is under construction. Sheesh! Dallas has outgrown itself and now is repairing all the old stuff and building adequate roads into newly populated areas. Someday it's gonna be good but right now this country girl freaks out everytime I have to drive in it. Signs tell me that lanes will be closed so I migrate to the lanes that will remain open. Then some little snot in a fast car zooms past trying to beat as many of us as possible to the place where lanes will end. This may work out great for him but it causes a traffic jam for everyone having to yield and make room for him at the merging point. You can tell that it pisses everyone off the same as it does me because we're all working together to squeeze the little f*cker out and make him wait before he can ease into traffic. It's almost always an expensive little car so I have a preconcieved opinion that the driver is an arrogant, spoiled little rich boy, which doesn't help my attitude toward him at all. I understand why road rage has become such a problem. I get it all the time. On a dark, sparsely traveled road (after 10:00 p.m.) last night some asshole was following me with his lights on bright. He was driving one of those big trucks on oversized tires which put his lights directly behind my rearview mirror. Grrrrr. I slowed down for him to pass but he didn't. I didn't dare do anything shitty (like I wanted to) because it was so late at night and we were the only ones on the road. NOT the time to act out! This guy had the big tires and the big truck and he's probably never pulled a trailer or hauled anything bigger than furniture his whole life. Judging by the cleanliness of the vehicle the guy wasn't even a mudder. I often think that the size of a guy's truck is a compensation for the size of his pecker. Smaller the guy, bigger the truck. Or maybe it's his brain. Oh wait, those are the same thing! Hahhaha.

 

The birthday party was fun. For the kids. We went to "Gattitown." Mr. Gatti's pizza has opened places to rival Chuck E. Cheese [Hell]. Lots of games-of-chance and video games that drain money quickly, and a buffet of mediocre pizza and a salad bar with brown lettuce. Mmmmmm..... The best part are the kids with runny noses standing by their parents at the buffet and then coughing or sneezing. FYI to Gattitown - the sneeze glass covering the food is for adults only and does not protect against kid-sneezes that are buffet-high. Yech. Very appetizing! CeeCee liked the bright lights but the screaming kids (and adults) made her nervous. She and Addie got passed around amongst the adults like footballs. I know they were tired, and I'm positive we were. Ha!!  I would see a person with a baby heading my way and I would try my best to become invisible. Didn't work - I hadda take my turn.

 

I told the people at work NOT to call me because I wouldn't answer my phone. I am on v-a-c-a-t-i-o-n for crying out loud. I've gotten one voicemail and one text so far. Ugh. It's looking more and more likely that Chuck the Intern Turned Supervisor (Chuck T.I.T.S.) is gonna get called up to go to Iraq. I have my fingers crossed that he won't really have to go but his unit (er, squadron) is making all the preparations necessary to be ready when called. I hate that - on several levels.

 

Timber and I slept 'til 10:15 this morning on our first day of vacation. AWESOME! I missed the trash pick-up though. Crap. I should have put it out last night but it was soooo late. Also, the last time I put it out the day ahead something ate a hole in the bag and scattered debris around the yard. Probably Yellow Cat and his buddies. Still no sign of him, by the way. Anybody wanna buy an already-opened bag of cat food? Looks like I won't be needing it after all. Damn cat.

 

Oh my....it's nearly naptime. Ha!! Not really. I don't want to sleep my entire vacation away. Just the mornings.

 

Later...

Hallelujah! The sun is shining in East Texas today - and is it ever gorgeous!!! I walked out this morning to do a few errands and my yard feels like walking on a wet sponge. {squish, squish, squish} The grass, trees, and flowers are stretching up to smile at the sun. My yard guy hasn't been able to mow for a coupla weeks now because it's just too wet so I don't think he'll be able to do it this time. I'm gonna have to bring in a bushhog and hay bailer. Man! It's verrrry tropical feeling, though, due to the humidity. The plants on my front porch are looking awesome.

 

I went out yesterday afternoon when there was a break in the rain to see if I could find Yellow Cat. There's no sign of him. I put a pan of food over by the place where they go in and out from under my house. There's a coupla inches of water standing there and I don't know if it's that way all up under the house or just there at the opening. Anyway, SOMETHING ate the cat food because it was gone this morning. It could have been the little black and white cat that lives in the alley. He's cute, too. I call him Hitler because he has a spot of black right under his nose that looks like a little moustache. I hope Yellow Cat reappears. I especially hope he didn't drown under the house because that would be really gross and stinky.

 

Is anybody tuning into the Live Green concerts? (Or whatever they're calling them.) I can't help but wonder how all those stars got to the concert. I'm sure they either walked or drove hybrids there. I'm positive there were no private jets or limos that would consume lots and lots of fossil fuels. I shouldn't be such a cynic. I'm glad they're raising awareness of issues concerning our planet. Really, I am. You know, they charge extra for us to participate in recycling in my little city. In addition to the regular sewer/trash collection fees there's another fee for them having to come back around to pick up the recyclables. Plus a fee for renting the special containers they provide. Then the City takes the recyclables to a bigger recycling center and get money for them. Something seems wrong here. As a consequence, very few people (myself included) participate in recycling. I should participate, I just don't. It's aggravating when I see all the news reports and interviews of people urging us to do this or that, but then I see rich people not doing it. I think we should take money paid out as welfare and instead make jobs for recycling centers and hire people that were on welfare. It would create jobs and re-establish a work ethic and pride in self. Like Roosevelt did with the WPA after the Great Depression. It would take years to get people to fall in with that because there are several generations of families who know no other way of life besides government handouts. When my niece lived in Germany they had mandatory recycling and she had to divide her garbage into several categories. It was great. And the whole place was so clean looking. Well, except for the cities where the factory pollution stuck to the buildings and stuff.

 

Did you see the press on Al Gore's house? He's the ring-leader on the global warming issues yet his big-ass house is not green. The article says he pays extra to something or other to compensate for his house not being green. Plants trees or something - I don't remember. So, if you're rich you can continue to use energy and screw the ozone. Is that the lesson? I know, my attitude sucks. Last year, when we were in the middle of a horrible drought, our water was rationed. I could only, if I chose to, water my lawn on certain days and only for a certain length of time. Well, over on the other side of the tracks where the large homes with manicured lawns of the wealthy are located, they mostly ignored the rationing. They could afford the fines. My yard died. My friend says I get upset at this kind of thing because I have a socialistic outlook gleaned from my yellow-dog democrat parents. Maybe so. I prefer to think I have a strong sense of fairness. If one has to ration, we alllll oughta have to ration.

 

Well, shit-fire. I didn't mean to get off on a political rant. I was pumped that the damn sun is shining! See? The concert is working! It has raised my consciousness and put the issue at the forefront of my mind, changing the intent of this blog from Little Mary Sunshine to Activist Angela. Get it? Mary Angela? (Sounds like a nun name, doesn't it?)

 

Okay, I gotta hit the sewing machine. I promised my sister-in-law a new apron since the last one I made her disintegrated from use & washings. I'm goin' to the Big City [Dallas] tomorrow for my great-nephew's 7th birthday party. I'm looking forward to it because I get to see his mom (my niece) that I don't see very often. She's amazing. Anyway, I cut the aprons out yesterday but never made it to the machine to assemble them. I printed off pictures of her grandbabies and made iron-on transfers for the apron. She's gonna love it.

 

Y'all have a good weekend. I hope my friends in northeastern Oklahoma are getting sunshine today, too! They had as many or more flooding problems as East Texas. Here's to ya Jean and Nadine!! And I hope the Comal River in central Texas calms down enough for Cindy and her buddies to go float and drink beer without fear of ridin' that river all the way to the Gulf of Mexico.

 

Adios.

I stumbled across the live coverage of the concert for Princess Diana this morning and stayed glued to it all frickin' day. Damn VH1. Ha! I did manage to use the time finishing a craft project that turned out really well. There were the trips to the washer/dryer to switch clothes over, kitchen trips, and bathroom breaks, but for the most part I was on me arse for six hours. Oy. I got sooooo emotional during the Andrew Lloyd Weber selections. I don't know why but I've gotten t'where I tear up like crazy when I hear a tenor sing. It's so beautiful and soulful. The phone-store employee who won the Britain's Got Talent show just ripped my ass. Gya!! I've gone to YouTube several times to watch him and boo-hooed everytime. He has the saddest damn eyes! I digress. Once I got emotional today, I then got very sad for the princes growing up without their mother. Which made me think of other people in the same boat, and on and on until I {SURPRISE!} became very sad for myself missing my own mother. So I cried awhile. Not bad, just a little - just enough to make me feel blah. When the concert was over I decided to get outta the house and take a little walk but I didn't get far before the heat and humidity got to me and I stumbled back to the house gasping for air and mumbling "air conditioning....air conditioning..." Timber was doing the same and looked at me as if to ask, "What the hell were you thinking?"

 

Then I went to Wal-Mart. I hate Wal-Mart but I won't go into that again today because it's kinda like beatin' a dead horse. It ain't gonna get me nowhere. I had to get dog shampoo with oatmeal in it to help Timber's itchy skin (per the instructions from the velvettush). And I did something else that just PISSES me OFF but I couldn't help it...I bought some damn cat food. There's this yellow tiger-cat that has taken up residence on my front porch. He's feral so I'll probably never touch him, but he's so skinny I think maybe he needs a little food - just a little - to help him through these hot summer months. He lives under my house and, from the sounds of things, leads an active sex life. I say "he." I hope he's a "he." I can't get close enough to see. If "he's" a "she" then I'll have several more cats on my front porch in a coupla months. The other night Timber and I were startled awake by a cat-scream and something knocking into the water pipes. Sheesh. My sister laughed when I told her about the cat and the food. She thinks I'll be friends with the cat in a few weeks and will invite him into the house to cool off. NO NO NO! I will NOT be friends with the cat! He's just a charity, that's all. But he sure is pretty... And at first he would take off running when I came home. Now he just runs to the edge of the porch and watches me unlock the door. He's prone to bolt for safety but he gives me the benefit of the doubt. Damn cat. I'm trying soooooo hard not to name him anything other than "Yellow Cat."

 

I'm taking a friend for a medical test tomorrow. The one we're all supposed to have when we turn 50 - a colonoscopy. They keep calling me for my appointment but I ignore the calls. The thought of somebody putting something up my butt just, well, it just makes my butt pucker. Even if I am knocked out. YECH. That's an exit, not an entrance. A boyfriend one time decided he would surprise me with something different. Big mistake. Big, BIG mistake. I surprised us both with my leaping ability. Okay, sorry - TMI. But the point is that I don't want anything up my butt. As if turning fifty isn't bad enough without all THAT. Ugh.

 

My boss is on vacation this week. While the cat's away, the mice will play. Chucky and I are making all kinds of deals. I'll be off here, you can be off there. We're gonna have a cookout on Tuesday. Ha!! Yep, yep, yep - it's gonna be a rough week. tee-hee.

 

Y'all have a great week...