Why, that was fairly painless! The guy finished cleaning off Bessie's hard drive or whatever so I got to bring her back home today. She's faster now! I had asked Chuck to come hook her back up for me but I managed to do it all by myself! I'm so proud!!! All these silly cords that unattach from things on both ends. What's up with THAT? It would be easier if one end of the cord stayed hooked to itself, er, you know what I mean, hopefully. When I dropped Bessie off at "the clinic" the guy was asking me what, I'm sure, were pertinent computer questions but I was clueless. I felt like this . He recognized the look. I bet he gets it a lot.

 

I didn't know it but I had no virus protection. Uh!? Once upon a time I had the Norton thing but I don't know what happened to it. I had a kid that lived with me for awhile that downloaded lots of things so I figure he deleted it at some point. Turd. So now I have virus protection. I don't know what it's called but I have the cutest little panda bear icon on my computer! CUTE!

 

Well, now you know - I'm back.

Jean and I thought we'd download some cute kiwee graphics for our IM thing. Big mistake. The Spybots on my computer went nuts and Jean lost her sound and had to do a restore. Once I managed to get the crap deleted I wasn't able to view stuff on other websites. What a cluster. Several years ago a boy lived with me while he was going to school and downloaded so much crap, including porn. My nephew cleaned off a lot of it but I have a feeling there are things still living there that I don't know about. SO, my boss discovered a guy here who cleans computers, repairs them, etc, for very reasonable prices. Ol' Bessie's goin' in today to see The Computer Doctor. Last night, as I unplugged, unhooked and prepared Bessie for travel, I felt like I was unhooking myself from life support. Ha! It felt weird having the computer unplugged - as if I might need to get up during the night and email somebody (I seldom do that, and never on a work night). It's a totally different feeling from when you choose to take a vacation from the computer and just don't turn it on. When it wasn't in its place ready to go it was like being cut off from civilization. I know, I'm being dramatic - but it really did feel weird.

 

Tomorrow is payday - my favorite day of the month. I think I'll soon adjust to being paid once per month. I've only gotten paid this way for, ummm, a little over thirty years. Ha!

 

Okay, if you don't hear from me for awhile you'll know it's because Bessie's out of commission...

The BEST movie I've seen since 40-Year-Old Virgin! Awesome, fabulous, delicious, etc. It's definitely a chick flick. And I might go so far as to say middle-aged chick flick. ha! I walked in and there were about 30 other people there - I saw one older man and a coupla younger girls probably with their mothers or grandmothers. As people came in there were a few couples but, for the most part, you could tell it was a room full of women-friends, old maids, and widows. I told the lady behind me, "Wow, this is NOT the show to attend to try to pick up a date, is it?" She laughed but then her husband came in with her popcorn. I think the bitch gloated - but maybe I'm just overly-sensitive about my old maid status. Ha!! Where do ya get one of those? Oh yeah, I might could find a man if I looked hard enough - but where do you find one that will wait on you, get your popcorn, pull the car up to the curb so you don't have to walk in the heat, and stuff like that? The only ones I've found wanted me to do that for THEM. Pfffft.

 

Before the movie started I eavesdropped on the little groups around me. Am I the only person over 50 who hasn't been to Branson, MO? I got tickled because there were three women in front of me, probably early to mid seventies, talking about some of the awful seniors tours they had been on. One of the women said, "I don't know why old people go on those trips. They can't even get off the bus to do things because they can't even walk!" Ha! I wonder when they think they'll be old? Then it dawned on me that anyone 40 or below, especially those 30 and below, think I am old. Shit! What a rude awakening!!!

 

Yesterday, at The Dark Knight, very few people seemed to have popcorn. Thank GOD. That, and they had the sound up so incredibly loud that I wouldn't have been able to hear people crunching unless they were directly behind me. Today, however, was a different story. You could hear the old ladies at the concession stand deciding what size popcorn they should buy, how they would all share - and then argue over who would pay or how much they should all pay. I gotta say - dentures and popcorn are NOT a good mix. Shit! If you're eating popcorn three rows behind me with surround sound playing then you're crunching and smacking WAY too loud. It makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck and then I can't concentrate on the movie because of *crunch* *crunch* *crunch*. GRRRRR. I thought I had gone to hell for a few minutes as all I could hear was frickin' CRUNCHING. Ugh. I felt like a bat. Everything was dark and my hearing became more keen. Hahaha!

 

There was another older lady sitting a coupla rows behind me with some of her friends. They were enjoying the movie, which was cool. But this woman felt the need to blurt out loud any kind of punch line or implied info. Then she would laugh real loud, and then have to ask what the next person said because she talked over it. I have a friend that does that and I never invite her to go to the movies with me for that reason. "Just watch the damn movie!" Sheesh.

 

What kind of movie goer am I? Well, I seldom go. (Bet THAT surprises you considering how much I've griped about my fellow viewers. *giggle*) But when I do.... I smuggle in my own drink and snacks. (Don't ever take a canned drink as the pop-top is too loud when you open it.) I usually take mints or nuts. I try to open the package verrrry quietly but the cellophane wrappers seem to echo throughout the theater. I begin by going realllll slow in an attempt to minimize the noise but it doesn't help - sothenIopenitrealfasttogetitoverwithquickly. I leave my non-theater-concessions trash there so that management knows someone rebelled against their rules. I'm SUCH a rebel, but wussy enough to not want to get in trouble. Ew, I think that translates into sneaky. Yikes.

 

Chuck called. I have another date tonight. He's gonna do a lo-country boil. I told my friend Denny that we're either a lot of fun or those young guys are bored as hell with each other's company. Ha! I told her, "You know, I think they WANT us." She said, "Yeah, they WANT US to bring some food!" hahahahha... One night we went to a party with the youngsters and had a plan to get 'em all liquored-up so we could take advantage of them. Unfortunately they could drink us under the table and obviously never thought of taking advantage of US. Damn the luck!

 

Well, I guess I better get the spackle and paint to see if I can get rid of some of these tell-tale wrinkles before I go hang with the kids. Ha! Later... 

My date with the football coach turned into a group thing. Ha! He brought his brother, I brought my friend Denny and, of course, Chuck. When I called Denny to invite her, I told her who else would be there. She said, "Oh, if I meet y'all we can sit boy-girl-boy-girl-boy." I said, "Yeah, but if you don't show it'll be me and boy-oh-boy-oh-boy!" Ha!!  It was a pretty good movie [The Dark Knight]. Too long but good. Heath Ledger deserves an Oscar for his performance. I've been hearing all the buzz about him and Oscar and I figured it was just sentimentality because he died - but no, he was amaaaaazing. Scary amazing. Once again, though, the top of my head nearly blew off because of people with cell phones. At the beginning of the movie a woman was coming in a tad late - talking on her cell phone. She stood behind the half wall/railing that's between the seats and the wall-wall so I guess she figured she was covered. But she didn't even whisper. So rude. Then, the two teenage girls in front of us kept opening their phones to check their messages. The theater was dark, the movie was dark, so when they opened the phones it was like we got hit in the eyes with a spotlight. OW! Those had to be the brightest phone screens I've ever seen. I arrived at the theater before everyone else. I was sitting in the nearly empty theater contemplating life - mostly wondering if I would make it through the 2.5 hour movie without having to get up to go pee. Anyway, three college-aged looking kids came in being silly, having a good time with each other. One of the guys said, "Gee, where will we be able to sit?" I laughed at him, pointed at the seat directly in front of me, and said, "Just don't sit HERE." To which he laughed and said, "Okay. I'll sit directly behind you and kick the back of your seat!" He was fun.

 

After the movie we all went to Texas Roadhouse for drinks and dinner. More fun. We convoyed from one side of town to the other, with Chuck tailgating me. The boy knows how to aggravate. So I call him on his cell phone, "Boy, if you wanna ride my ass let's go somewhere dark & quiet!" To which he replied, "Hey, I'm following YOU." Ha! I splurged and had Amber Bock instead of whatever they had on tap and prime rib. Orgasmic! I could probably be a vegetarian except for the existence of prime rib. Chuck 'fessed up that he THINKS he had sex with this head-case chick we all know. He was so wasted he doesn't remember - he just knows that when he woke up they were both nekkid. Ha! It doesn't matter if he did it or not - just the strong possibility puts him in the position of never livin' it down. Ha!! Kinda makes me not dread Monday so much, just knowing I can make his life slightly miserable. Hahahhaha.

 

Chuck and I were talking, for some reason, about MTV. I made the comment, "Yeah, that was back when they actually showed music videos. Now it's all those reality crap shows." He says, "Yeah, I remember when they first started and Carson Daly was hosting TRL..." Me, "TRL? Carson Daly? They weren't even around when I'm talking about. I'm talking about Friday night headbanger's ball, constant videos, Downtown Julie Brown, stuff like that." Sometimes I forget that I have a 20-year jump on Chucky.

 

I'm going back to the movies (alone) today to see MammaMia. I like musicals, and this one looks fun. I'll probably be the only one in the theater as I've heard it hasn't been well-received in my area. Maybe if it had been filmed in Nashville to the music of Rascal Flatts...ugh...

I waited all day (well, until 3:ish) for the plumber, then they had to leave and come back because the first guy had given them some incorrect info on supplies they'd need for the job. Turns out they can't stock their van with copper tubing because they've gotten broken into a few times by copper thieves. Stealing copper is big business around here. How much crap is that? Anyway, when they finished I paid them but, dangit, I shoulda checked their work first. They've done work for me before and it was great so I didn't think about inspecting today's job. They put an extender on the front faucet because the siding people didn't leave enough room to maneuver the waterhose on and off the faucet. Well, the guys today put some kind of foam stuff that hardened and it now looks like I have a big ball of yellow-green snot on the front of my house. Ugh. I'll be talking to the owner of the plumbing company in the morning. The new faucet in the back of the house is FABULOUS! I watered my fig trees, I washed out Timber's bucket and refilled it with clear fresh water, Timber drank out of the waterhose - fun times.

 

I was bubbling with excitement as I told my friend about my new water faucet in the backyard. She looked at me and said, "Remember when we got excited about buying concert tickets, new clothes, new shoes, new albums, maybe a new stereo? Now we get excited about water faucets or a new icemaker." Yeah. "And remember when we'd call each other and compare notes about how much we drank, who we partied with, whether we puked or not? And now we talk about our bowel movements." Yeah. {sigh} Buzz kill.

 

It's hot and getting hotter. It's supposed to be 100 degrees on Sunday. It feels like Hades Lite, with humidity. Bleah. I took a shower this morning and didn't even turn on the hot water. The water already in the pipes was just right.

 

I have a date tomorrow - with one of the football coaches. We're going to see "Stepbrothers" with Will Ferrell. He's off work for a coupla days, too, so I called him, "Hey. Wanna go on a DATE tomorrow?" Him, nervously,  "What are we gonna do?" Me, "Relax. Just a movie." Ha!! I'm nearly 22 years older than this guy. I'm too old (and don't have enough money) to be his cougar. I'm afraid if I made a move on him it would be more like pedophilia. He's cute as a button, though. Ha!! We're going to the matinee so the tickets are cheaper.  I don't know why but he didn't want to see MammaMia! The only bad thing about seeing a matinee is that everyone looks Chinese when they walk out of the dark theater into the sunlight. I always feel like a vampire. "My eyes! My eyes!!!!"

 

Gas is back down to $3.85 a gallon. I was feeling a slight sense of relief that maybe things would level off for awhile - and then Oncor [Electric Company] announced yesterday that their rates would be going up about 25%. Holy shit! I can't win for losin'!

 

The plumber saw my piano and guitar case and asked if I played both. "Well, I play piano so-so but I haven't touched the guitar in years because it hurts my fingers." He plays guitar so lectured me awhile about strings and callouses then asked to see the guitar. It's a pretty guitar. A Yamaha acoustic guitar, light wood on top, dark wood on the back and sides, and my mother painted a bouquet of bluebonnets on top (like the rose on EmmyLou Harris' guitar). He strummed on it for awhile and sounded pretty good. Nothin' fancy but nice strummin'. The guy looked like the typical plumber but young (30-35?). His crack didn't show but I got the feeling that it probably would in the next few years as his belly grew and his pants began ridin' lower. He had the beginnings of a beer belly. I don't know how to say this any other way...he looked like a redneck. A dip-spittin', cap-wearin', beer belly totin', slow-talkin' redneck. REAL nice guy. Then he tells me he doesn't play an acoustic guitar very often - just electric since that's the kind of guitar he uses in his band. Band? What kind of music? Rock. Hard rock. Oh, like Lynrd Skynrd? Pffft. They're not hard rock! No, more like Pantera. I'm surprised my teeth didn't fall outta my head. Once more, looks are deceiving. Can't judge a book by its cover. Blah blah blah.

 

Y'all have a good evenin' and a great Friday...

I'm so excited I could just pee. For years I've lamented the fact that I don't have a water hydrant in the backyard. I haul water outta the house in a bucket for Timber. I assumed all things plumberesque would be expensive so I never even considered the possibility of having a faucet in the back. The grass died long ago, and now my precious baby fig trees are yellow-leaved. I decided it couldn't hurt to just get a free estimate so my plumber came this afternoon and he can add a hydrant in the back and repair the one in the front for $250. UH!!!! He's gonna come do it tomorrow. I feel about as dumb as a box of rocks for not doing this sooner. I had given the yard to Timber but with the possibility of having grass and foliage again, I can reclaim at least part of it! Rah.

 

Well, Hello Dolly! Our little cat-1 hurricane finally made landfall down by Brownsville. South Texas really needed the rain. Some of the far outer bands are broken up now and the pieces are floating through East Texas. It's like Mother Nature is taking a big pee on South Texas and spitting over on East Texas while she does it. (Good grief, wasn't that poetic?) I sure hope my yard gets a little o' that rain. For any of you geography majors who were wondering, though, I live as close to Atlanta GA, Albuquerque NM, and Memphis TN as I do to Brownsville, TX. Maybe even closer. It's waaaaaay down there. You know, "down there in Texas." {giggle}

 

I had the weirdest thing happen last Saturday. I don't know if I had a bad dream that I don't remember or what, but I felt like a doctor had just told me that I'm terminally ill. I felt like my death was imminent. Not minutes or hours, but soon. What's up with THAT? I suddenly believed I needed to clean out closets and throw stuff away so my family wouldn't have to deal with it when I die. It was the STRANGEST feeling. It was gone by Sunday, and I did get a lot done around the house, but I'm still puzzled as to what brought that on. I don't particularly feel bad. I'm not depressed. I guess I'm just a ravin' lunatic. But we knew that... Won't I feel funny if I get bad news at my next visit to the doc? It'll mean I'm physic and have espn!!! Ha!

 

Timber came in today scratchin' and hoppin' around. When I went to the bathroom he jumped in the tub and looked at me. So I bathed him. I guess that's what he wanted because he put his head on my shoulder and let me suds him up and rinse him real well. And now he's napping.

 

I was sweeping the laundry room today when a HUGE gecko crawled along the wall by the dryer. Holy shit. This sucker was big. I don't know if he came in under the door or up the washer drain or knows a place I don't even want to think about. (Ah, the joys of an old pier & beam house.) I didn't kill him. He eats bugs, after all, and I have those, too. I figure he'll slither his damn self back out the way he came or he'll survive on the flies, gnats, and mosquitos that fly in when I open the door. He looked like one of those plaster Mexican wall decor things except not colorful.

 

One of our coaches is from Iowa. He freaked out when he saw his first "water bug" crawling around his office. It's actually a cockroach but waterbug sounds so much nicer. They grow really huge here. They come in for water when it's real dry outside, and come in to dry out when it rains a lot. I used to have a cat that liked to bat 'em around like a hockey puck. They don't bother me unless they sneak up on me and touch me when I'm not looking. Like the night I was sitting on the edge of the tub shaving my legs and one crawled up my nekkid back. {shiver} Another time one fell into the ceiling fan and got knocked down on me in bed. That was shocking to say the least and needless to say I wasn't a bit sleepy after it happened. I usually have about one a day in the house somewhere. I've had an exterminator so once they crawl across the residual poison they lay on their backs and die. Then I pick 'em up and flush 'em. I HATE stepping on them. They pop really loud and it's so gross. I guess that's enough Wild Kingdom stories.

 

Can't wait til tomorrow!!! I'll be able to water, get a swimming pool for Timber, powerwash the back of the house, fill the birdbath, and on and on and on. I can sit in the sun with the sprinkler on me! YES. I love that. *giggle*

 

Later...

 

 

 

 

So we began a discussion on the price of oil. But my friends from Oregon didn't know what I was talking about:

Me: Hey, the price of oil went down today!

Friend: All what?

Me: Oil!

Friend: ALL what?

 

Seems that I say oil and all the same way. Doesn't sound like it to me, but it sure did to them. I know I don't say "oy-ee-lll" - it's more like "ohllll". And "all" is "awl." How could those be confused? Pffft.

 

Have you ever noticed that when the price per barrell goes UP the cost is reflected immediately and the price at the pump goes up, but when it goes DOWN it takes 6-8 weeks for the savings to trickle down to the pump? Amazing, isn't it?

 

I guess the petroleum industry doesn't mind screwing us in the butt since they are the makers of Vaseline, after all. They should have a pump dispenser for Vaseline at every station. I don't know about y'all but I like to be kissed when I get screwed. If the oil companies decide to furnish the kiss, I have a spot all picked out for them to plant their lips. (Do I sound bitter?)

 

Do any of y'all watch TruTV? "It's actuality, not reality." There's a show on Wednesday nights called Black Gold about roughnecks on oil rigs. One of the roughnecks on the Big Dog rig is named Derek. He's my friend's grandson. (The friend I told you about a few blogs back whose son is dying of liver cancer. Derek is his son.) Derek's dad worked his way up in some drilling company by starting out as a roughneck. I wonder if Derek is named for "oil derrick"? That'd be kinda funny. I'll try to remember to ask...

 

My siblings and I have been rakin' in the dough lately from the mineral rights we own on leases in Oklahoma that we inherited through my mother's stepdaddy. Ha! I'm being sooo sarcastic. We get a check most every quarter, and we got two checks in the second quarter of this year. Sounds fabulous until you hear that they only write a royalty check when the amount due to us is at least $50. Some quarters we don't get a check. Our lease has been split so many times that nobody makes much money off of it anymore. The $50 a quarter we get doesn't even come close to offsetting what we're paying at the pump. I'm an idiot, though, because everytime I get one of those little royalty checks in the mail I do the happy dance as if I won the lottery. "Fif-ty dol-lars! Fif-ty dol-lars! I got fif-ty dol-lars!" Ha!!! So, THANK YOU, Pawnee County, Oklahoma and my GrandpaDaddy.

 

Alrighty, folks. I think it's time for a Sunday afternoon nap. It just feels RIGHT. I hope there's a ballgame on the tube. Nothing puts me to sleep like a ballgame of some sort. Ha!!

 

Later...

 

 

 

Excuse me if this blog makes no sense. After four days in a freshly painted and varnished gym I think I've lost several bazillion brain cells due to the toxic fumes. We work until we have headaches, get dizzy, or vomit...or any combination of those options...and then we go home. Ugh.

 

I saw a story on the news tonight about a national park somewhere in New York state that is using a herd of goats to lower the grass and brush in a hard to reach area that needs mowed. This made me think of Sammy.

 

When I was about fourteen we lived in a teeny town in Northeast Texas - population 400 (SAAAAAAA-lute! as they would say on Hee-Haw.) A few days before Easter, probably Spring Break since my sister was home from college, my mother sent us to the store in a larger town about fifteen miles away. On our way there we saw a sign that said "Baby Goats $5." Awwwwww!!! We thought it would be funny to get our dad a goat. But, noooooo, he might get mad. Where would we put it? So we drove on, got the groceries, and headed back home. We were still talking about the baby goat. So when we got to the house with the sign we looked at each other, giggled, and my sister pulled into their driveway. Ohhhhh, the goat was so CUTE! They only had one left. A little black one with a tiny beard (a goatee!). We bought it. Ummmm, for Daddy. Right? If you're wondering how he got his name, well, he was black and had a goatee - Sammy Davis Goat, Jr.. Not at all a slur as I always named my pets for people I loved or whom the pet looked like. Back then Sammy Davis, Jr. was a popular entertainer.

 

I held the baby goat in my arms on the way home. Big mistake. Big, BIG mistake. It doesn't take me very long to bond with things. We pulled up at home and presented Daddy with his "gift" and I immediately said I would take care of the goat for him. Daddy made a little fuss about bringing home a "damn goat" as he chuckled and started planning on where the pen would best be situated. We didn't think about goat feed, and didn't realize when we bought the baby goat that the reason they would sell it was so they could milk its' mama. So, actually, the baby goat wasn't weaned and still needed to be bottle-fed. Daddy had to make a trip to the feed store and fussed about having to make another trip "to town" and burn all that gas that was up to 35 cents a gallon! He came home with powdered milk, a couple of goat nipples that we fitted over glass Coke bottles, and some tiny pelleted goat feed. Anyone familiar with goats knows that their poop is pellet-shaped which supports the theory that you are what you eat. Guess what? It doesn't take long for a baby goat to bond with whomever or whatever is holding the nipple that's attached to his bottle of milk. Sammy and I became inseperable. I had never had a goat - but I had a dog - so I treated the goat like a dog.

 

Sammy usually slept in his pen outside...unless it was cold...or hot...or raining...or dry. At other times he slept in my room. (Did I have great parents or what?) To call Sammy I would bleat like a goat. I could stand anywhere within goat-earshot of Sammy and say, "Baaaaaa" and he would come a-runnin' from wherever he happened to be at the time. I would ride my bike EVERYwhere with Sammy running alongside, no leash or anything. People in our tiny town always said "Mary had a little...goat" as we went around town visiting. (And no, I wasn't thrilled to be called Mary but in a small town they know BOTH names along with any secrets you thought you had. Plus, Mary had the lamb - not Angie.) Sammy would stand on the porch and jump into my arms. Sammy was smart. He could open doors/gates and managed to let our calf out several times and surprised us a few times when he came in the back door of the house to see what we were doing without him. Then he'd find me layin' on the floor and he'd take his place across my back. He really liked popcorn night.

 

Then Sammy started getting bigger. His sharp, pointy horns grew to about 5-6 inches. He began jumping off the porch onto people but it was more difficult to catch him and he could accidentally hurt a body. The preacher's wife next door was confined to bedrest with a complicated pregnancy - imagine her surprise when Sammy opened her front screen door and jumped into bed with her. (Yes, Baptist preachers WILL cuss when provoked.) He opened our back door and brought the year-old colt (the BIG year-old colt) into the house with him as my family sat at the dinner table. (A very Disney moment - and also very scary as the colt could have easily gotten spooked and torn up the house, himself, and us. But he didn't. My Daddy told me to back the colt back down the narrow hall and out the back door, then he ran around the back of the house and held the back door open. I got the job because I played with the horse and goat all the time.) The beginning of the end for Sammy, though, was when he butted my mother as she was bent over getting clothes out of the dryer. Holy shit. He surprised her, of course, so she kinda lunged forward and got stuck in the dryer as she couldn't get a footing to back out (she was short). You could hear her yelling "you sonofabitchin' goat  I'm gonna kill your sonofabitchin' ass" as it echoed around the dryer drum. My dad rushed to help her but it didn't help things that he kept getting weak with laughter. Sammy was banished to the backyard for a few days.

 

But, all good things come to an end when you own livestock. And, technically, Sammy was a type of livestock. I had already raised a heifer calf on a bottle that ended up on our table (that was what she was bought for) and many, many chickens. It was Sammy's turn. Circle of life. His antics had gotten him into quite a bit of trouble. Something had to be done about Sammy. So Daddy hired a guy to come butcher him. Mother took me somewhere, I don't remember where, but I couldn't be there when they butchered Sammy as it is a terrible thing involving a knife and a waterhose. But...it was quick. I mostly remember tears. Lots and lots of tears. (And some right now as I remember Sammy.) I loved that goat but life on a quasi-farm was about growing and raising things for consumption. (Except for the dogs and cats. But even at that the dog's job was to guard the property and the cats had to earn their keep by killing mice.)

 

How I mourned for Sammy...up until Daddy put some cabrito (goat meat) on the grill and we ate like kings and queens. That was a long time ago. If I had to raise my own meat now I'd be a vegetarian. If I had to look into those beautiful soft eyes as I butchered the animal, I'd starve to death. Couldn't do it anymore - don't have the heart for it. Anonymous meat obviously doesn't bother me. Well, you know what I mean.

 

*sigh*

I just THOUGHT the gym reeked yesterday. They put the first coat of varnish on today and WOW, I flashbacked to the 70s!! Whew. My sinuses and throat were burning by 3:00 and by 4:00 I told Chucky we were leaving. Didn't ask for permission or anything, just locked that puppy and came home. I think Chuck was relieved. He has allergies real bad and I know he was hurtin', too. He's technically my boss but I have about a million years seniority over him so (believe it or not) I tend to boss him around. They'll put another coat of varnish either tomorrow or the next day. Something to look forward to...

 

White Boy told me today that his big dream in life is to be the PA announcer for the Texas Rangers [baseball, not law enforcement]. He has it all planned out. The guy that is currently The Voice of the Rangers has been doing it for about twenty years. So if he'll do it ten more years then White Boy will be thirty years old with enough experience that he can take over. And then he wants to do it about fifty years. He said, "I wanna do it so long that they want me to quit but I won't and they won't make me because I'm a living legend. You know how it is when somebody old is doing something and everyone wonders why the old fucker won't retire? MizAngie, I want to be that old fucker." Ha!! He was serious as a heart attack, too. I told him there's not one reason on this earth why he can't achieve that goal. I looked into his eyes and said, "Why, you're halfway there already!" Him, "You think so? How do you mean?" He likes to fish for compliments and waited expectantly for one. "Well, [White Boy], you're already a fucker!" "Awwwwwww, MizANGIE!!!" *giggle!!!*

 

Well, I'm tickled pink that Josh Hamilton (the Texas Ranger that drew MUCH wood last night in the MLB homerun derby) has turned his life around and made good. I wonder, though, if he'll ever be able to step up to the plate without the announcers talking about how he used to be a drug addict blah blah blah. Man! I am so sick of hearing about that and how he regrets the eight tattoos that he got while he was high. The guy has gone from being Ozzy to being Opey. Sheesh. I hope for him that one day he'll just be an awesome baseball player and not the former cocaine addict that came back to play baseball again. It'll take awhile, though, because the announcers have to be talking constantly as if they have a frickin' word quota.

 

White Boy is going to do an internship with a local tv station this fall. The sports guy he'll be working with took him to a Ranger game the other night on a press pass. They got to go on the field, in the clubhouse, interview some guys. White Boy tells me he was talking to one player when another, fresh from the shower, walked past. "MizAngie, I just have to say that [player whose name I won't use] has the biggest, uh, c*ck I've ever seen!" Me, "Well, faggot, why were you looking at the man's privates?" WB, "I couldn't help it! I was talking to [another player whose name I won't use] and this guy walks by...I thought he was holding a bat! You would have looked, too!" Good grief. "Well, yeah, I would have been looking but I'm not a guy! Did he catch you sneakin' a peak at his bat?" WB, "I don't think so. I hope not! They might ban me from the locker room if they think I'm gay." Me, "You are gay!" hahahahahha...

 

Hey, Sox fans! You like Manny Ramirez' hair? I think he's "unbeweavable!" There's no way that's his real hair.

 

Timber and I are going to bed so we can stretch out and watch this All-Star game in total comfort. Y'all have a good evenin'...

I wasn't ready to go back to work today. Then I was bombarded by little bullshit things that were really not my problem which resulted in my mood escalating from slightly aggravated to a high degree of pissivity. White Boy cowered in the corner trying to be invisible. Then damn Chuck kept sticking his finger in my ears. He's driving me nuts with that and he knows it, which is his goal, of course. I keep telling him, "Stop putting your tiny penis in my ear!" but he does it anyway and then giggles like a little girl. The boss is outta town. He and his family are trying again to have a few days vacation. As tickled for him as I am that he's getting his share of R&R, it didn't help my mood to picture him on the beach with a cold beer, kicked back in a lawn chair with his feet in the Gulf. Ha!! Misery loves company, you know, and I was a big ol' pile of walkin' talkin' self-inflicted misery today. Hahahhaha!! I'm already lookin' at the calendar to see when I can take some more days. I can carry 20 days forward but anything over that, well, if you don't use 'em ya lose 'em. I don't plan on losin' any.

 

They're refinishing the gym floor so it stinks to high heaven - "high" being the key word. Whew! From the way my head was hurting when I got home this evenin' you would think I had spent the day "huffing." [For you sheltered people: huffing is a form of getting high by snorting the goop outta spray cans.] It's gonna be worse tomorrow when they put the varnish on. Holy hell.

 

My boss rearranged his office while I was gone. It looks great but it's put a bug in my butt to do the same. It's hard to do my outer office area because I have the fax machine, the big file cabinet, the student desk, etc.. Chucky said he'd help me if I'd stop being such a bitch. Hmmmm. I might or might not rearrange my office. Hahahhaa!!

 

GOOD GRIEF! I'm watching the MLB Homerun Derby. Josh Hamilton is making Yankee Stadium his bitch! This is unreal. This guy used to be a crackhead. He pays a guy to hang out with him to keep him from fallin' off the wagon. Ha! They're playing the theme from The Natural. That's good stuff. Twenty-eight homerun slugs in the first round. Incredible. It's fantastic the way this kid has turned his life around.

 

I'll sign off. I hope you're not saying what Chuck said when I told him I was leaving work fifteen minutes early today when he mumbled "Thank God." Hahahhahaha. I told ya I was a heifer...

 

 

 

As I mentioned yesterday, I did go to my friend's house to check on her. I stopped and got us some iced coffee and a sausage McGriddle and we sat out on her screened porch and had breakfast. Well, brunch would be more accurate as I didn't get there until 10:30. I came back home at 3:30! We sat out on that porch with the occasional cool breeze and talked, laughed, and cried for hours!! Sometimes we just sat. (I could have sat there all day and night rocking in this fabulous rocking chair she has. I call it "MY" chair.) This friend lives at the lake and it's so fabulous out there. She had four baby blue birds in a hanging basket of ivy so we watched the mama bringing in worms and bugs for them. She has gorgeous flowers and trees, and from the porch we had an unobstructed view of beautiful lawn right down to the lakefront. There were two hummingbirds enjoying a feast of flower nectar in the garden next to the house, where other birds were sampling some fresh figs off the tree. Amazing stuff. The house is just a little cabin built by her father and uncles of concrete blocks, recycled wood and stones but it's so beautiful and comfortable. There's a huge fireplace that warms the whole place in the winter. I envy her for her living quarters. Anyway, after I had been there for several hours there was a lull in the conversation. We were both staring out toward the water. One of the dogs had positioned himself next to my chair so that everytime I rocked my hand dragged across his head. I would wiggle my fingers past his ears. My friend said softly and with emotion, "I know you gave up your day to come do this, and I appreciate it." To which I replied without looking at her, "I chose to use my day to come do this - for you AND for me." It was a very Steel Magnolias moment.

 

I don't know what started the conversation the other day at my niece's house but we were talking about writing styles. Her cousin said he's a quotation mark guy. Ree said she likes parentheses. I told them I like to throw in all of those things and that when I'm on a roll I can put something in quotation marks within parentheses and then throw up some brackets around the whole thing. My niece said, "Whoa - brackets. Now you're just showing off!" hahahhahaha

 

I dribbled RED Koolaid on my new white tshirt, er, negligee last night. Ugh!! Ever since I turned 40ish (and it becomes progressively worse with each year) I seem to always be wearing a bit of whatever I had for lunch or dinner on the front of my shirt. Is that part of the aging process nobody tells ya? Sometimes it looks like I must have stood with my mouth open while someone else chunked food at me like a target. Ha!! And, being a woman, I have this "shelf" that catches all the drops and dribbles. It may not be the fault of my mouth - it may be because I can't see shit once it gets close to me. I can see things better when they're ten feet away than I can when they're on a fork right in front of me. So maybe when I lose focus things start dropping. Who knows? My nieces and nephews ridicule me for it all the time. "Well, I see you had spaghetti for lunch!" or "What did you throw toward your mouth today for lunch?" ha!! That doesn't account for the Koolaid dribbling, though. The only explanation I have for that is that I'm an idiot. Hahhahaha!! (And yes, I drink Koolaid all the time even if I am 50ish. SO?)

 

I guess I better get after it and start enjoying my last hours of freedom before I return to work on Monday. YECH YECH YECH. It's not the job I mind at all, it's the getting up and getting dressed.

 

Later...

Y'all aren't gonna believe this but I got a little homesick while on my less than three whole days of vacation in Dallas. I don't know why. I was enjoying my nieces and nephews. I don't know or understand what it is with me that I don't enjoy being away from home. There are only 3-4 places outside of Texas that I would even consider going to for an extended amount of time and those are New York City, Ireland, Scotland, and England. It's doubtful I'll ever get to any of those. I haven't been away from home more than 4 days in a row in about ten years. I'm not agoraphobic - I do leave my house to go to work, go to local events, take short trips. I just don't like being gone for a long time or even overnight in most cases. Spending time with family is just about all that will get me away from home overnight. I worry about everything while I'm gone, especially my dog. I know - I'm silly.

 

So I get home yesterday and my electric service provider's computer had a screw up and sent me a disconnect notice. I paid the bill when I got it back on June 20 so I freaked out when I got the notice. Funny how they could accidentally send me that but they couldn't on purpose contact me and tell me it was a boo-boo. I had to use cellphone minutes to call them and make sure all was well. Then I went and got Timber from my friend's house and he was awful-looking. He's in the throes of a summer allergy/itchy skin phase. I bathed him, gave him benadryl and prednisone for the itching, and started him on an antibiotic. He's already much better this morning. I don't know if he's glad I'm home but I can tell he's glad he's back in air conditioning. Ha!! Poor ol' itchy thang.

 

This is my last day off - it's back to work on Monday. Wow. I can't believe how quickly it goes by. It's less than a month before football, volleyball, and soccer report for workouts and practices. August begins my busy busy time on my job. Generally, people who work in education feel a certain excited anticipation for the beginning of the fall semester. New year, new kids, new possibilities. In athletics there's the anticipation of the new athletes, new seasons. Will this be "our year" for championships and titles, or will it be a bust? I feel like I've lost that. I don't look forward to it anymore - I dread it. The faces all look the same, the kids' attitudes seem to get worse every year, coaches never seem to remember how to do paperwork and stuff from year to year. It's always the same bullshit. I have a philosophy: If I run into one or two people whose attitudes suck, or their moods are bad, then the problem is usually their's. If everyone I deal with has a bad attitude or is in a bad mood, then the problem is usually me. So I realize that the dread I feel for the new year is MY issue, and it's probably not fair to those who are still excited about a new beginning. I try to fake excitement (I'm a woman so I know how to do that - hahahah) but that has become difficult, too. I've spoken with several others in my situation. Eligible for retirement but too young to retire. It's funny that in all other things I'm old, but when considering retirement all of a sudden I'm young. That kinda sucks. Ha! Anyway, I don't believe I'm unique in my feelings. It may even be a process that people go through to help get the mindset for taking the steps to retirement. Job menopause? Ha.

 

I think I'll go grab some coffee and scones and go see my friend who has REAL reason for angst. Her granddaughter unexpectedly died two weeks ago and her son is dying of liver cancer. The best way to take my mind off myself is to help someone else. Gosh, I hope she has a better reaction to me than I did to the s.o.b. who rang my doorbell at 7:38 this morning to see if I wanted him to trim the tree that isn't even mine! I don't know what I looked like when I opened the door but he jumped off my porch and walked and talked as he backed quickly outta my yard. Hahhahahahaha!!!! NOT A MORNING PERSON...

 

Adios.

So, old woman, what did you do on your summer vacation? Why, I woke up too frickin' early despite my many efforts to go back to sleep! Talk about pissed off... Ugh.

 

At least Timber and I got out and ran some errands. He got a lovely pedicure at the vet's office, along with $150 worth of heartworm preventative, flea stuff, and antibiotic & steroid for his itchy skin. He managed to terrorize three crated cats, their bitchy owner, and one tiny old dog that may not ever stop shaking after turning around and finding a giant lab nose in his ass. Poor thing. I hope his owner didn't have him in there for constipation because, judging by how tight he squenched up his butt, he may never poop again. When I take Timber for a bath or a pedicure the vet tech takes him "to the back" and I can't go with him. Today I asked my friend who has worked there since I began taking pets to the vet back in the 80s, with squinted, suspicious eyes, "What exactly is in the back? Why all the mystery?" "I can't tell you," she whispered, "or I'd have to kill you." Me, "Hmm. Well then, never mind..." It made me feel like storming "the back" and seeing exactly what they're doing to little cats and dogs that they don't want us to know about. The old bulldog I had did NOT like going back there without me. Timber, however, is happy and excited to go...and then happy and excited to come back out. Come to think of it, he's just happy and excited all the time. He loved seeing everyone at the vet's office, he thoroughly enjoyed the guy who checked the air in my tires at the Texaco station (and the guy enjoyed Timber, too), he fell in love with the lady at the drive-thru window at the bank because she sent him a tiny Meaty Bone snack, and he kept flirting with all the people in cars next to us at traffic lights. Crazy dog thinks he's the Grand Marshall of his very own Timber Parade wherever we go. Crazy dog.

 

In my small city of about 100,00 we have a minimum of 8 McDonald's. That's a lotta damn McDonald's! I was happy to see them tearing down one of them, hoping something new and different would be built in its place. Nope. They're rebuilding the McDonald's. What? Uh, WHY? Why tear one down and rebuild it? Makes no sense. Although, I wish I could do my house that way. I think that's the only way I could truly get it totally clean. I need to at least move away and then move back. That seems to be the best catalyst for forcing myself to go through crap, discard it, and then start over. Oh, ga, the thought of really doing that makes my butt pucker. I hate moving! We did it enough when I was growing up and living with nomadic schoolteachers so I got my fill.

 

The hot Texas sun is taking its toll on my basil and tomato garden. I water every other day but the leaves are still drooping. I know how it feels. If I had leaves they'd be drooping, too. I shouldn't complain. It's actually very pleasant - AT ABOUT 11:00 PM!!! Ha.

 

I'm off to Dallas tomorrow. Gonna see my CeeCee and my Addie, and I guess I'll see their parents, too. Ha! I'm having PTSD (Pre Trip Stress Disorder). I'm SUCH a homebody. I'll be taking Timber over to Genny's house this evening so I can get on the road early in the morning. I hate being here without my Timby to keep me company, but Genny's people will probably prefer I not wait until early in the morning in case they want to sleep in. I know I would. I hope Genny's not in heat like she was the last time they kept Timber for me. He nearly drove Genny and her people crazy by barking at and chasing Genny for three days. He's not sure what to do but he still knows he wants to try when he picks up the scent. Kinda like teenagers... (Ha! I just felt a collective cringe by everyone reading this who has teenagers.)

 

Y'all take care!

We had a cookout at work today to celebrate the return of Chuck TITS, a 4th Eve celebration, and because we all like to eat. Chuck set up his grill on the front porch of the gym and was the official griller. Everybody brings whatever kind of meat they want to eat and Chuck cooks it, and everyone brings some kind of extra. We don't make a list and specify - whatever we end up with is what we have. I usually tell the single guys to bring buns or paper plates so they don't have to come up with a "side." Those of us who bring a little extra cover the people that end up invited at the last minute or happen to walk by and smell the grill. It's fun. I took some hamburger patties, a few dawgs, homemade salsa, and a lemon pie. I got raves over the salsa and pie and they're probably the two easiest things EVER to brew up. My friend who doesn't like to cook brought chips. Somebody brought beans, another a cake. My boss(es) went to the store and got buns and condiments. It's always so relaxed and informal. Everybody enjoys each other's company and the food is always good. The only problem we seem to have is that we want to take naps and sleep like dogs under the house after lunch.

 

We have this one coach, though, that just chaps my ass. No matter what we have, or how much is left over, he fixes himself a to-go plate. Today I saw that we had a few hamburger patties and I told Chuck we could split them to take home for supper tonight (since he and I brought hamburger). Next thing I knew Coach was platin' up those damn patties and puttin' foil over them to go to his house. Shit! I know I sound selfish. I don't mind sharin' when there's a bunch but, I confess, I had my eye on that leftover hamburger for my own damn supper. Ha!! I did manage to scrounge the three leftover wienies to bring home. So for supper I had a hotdog, and Timber scored the other two. Y'all, he didn't even chew 'em up. YECH. I kept waitin' for him to puke 'em back up but he didn't. I handed one to him and was amused for the one second it looked like he was smokin' a cigar and then *bloop* he swallowed that thang like it wasn't nuttin'! Linda Lovelace woulda been jealous!

 

Last night I went to the grocery store (finally) to get food for the cookout. On the way home it was dusk, nearly dark. I saw a bazillian birds (probably starlings or bats) flying around, sitting on the telephone lines, etc.. For a minute, as I watched, I felt disappointment that our birds weren't choreographed like those in Scotland that hit youtube last year. Stupid birds - just plain ol' flying around - no formations, no spectacular show. Then I thought, "What do you mean? The very fact they can fly is an absolute miracle!" Ha!! Then I wondered how on earth many other things do I see everyday that I take for granted? Probably a TON of things. Beautiful, miraculous things that I don't even notice anymore as I walk in my rut. So this morning I was determined to pay more attention. Walking from my truck to the building this morning I kept my head up so I could SEE. And stubbed my toe on a brick in the driveway so I immediately looked back down and got back in my rut. Ha!!

 

The cornmeal sandies turned out pretty good. My work peeps liked 'em. I felt it was my duty to warn everyone before they ate one, though, to not laugh or suck in their breath while biting the cookie or they'd choke to death. Very "different" texture. Here's the recipe for those of you who expressed an interest:

CORNMEAL SANDIES (from Better Homes and Gardens)

1 cup butter, softened

1/4 cup sugar

3 tsp finely shredded orange peel

2 tsp finely shredded lemon peel

1 tsp vanilla

1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

1/2 cup yellow cornmeal

1/4 tsp salt

Extra sugar for coating the warm cookies

Preheat oven to 350. Mix butter with sugar, peels, and vanilla. In separate bowl combie dry ingredients then add gradually to butter mixure. Mix until ball of dough forms. Roll into 1" balls. Place at least 1" apart on lightly greased baking sheet. Flatten slightly. Bake 10-12 minutes until edges are lightly browned. Cool 2 minutes then gently toss in sugar to coat.

 

I never seem to be able to absolutely follow a recipe as I don't have exactly what the recipe called for - so I ended up substituting butter-flavored (no trans fat) Crisco instead of butter, white cornmeal for yellow, 6 tsp of lemon peel with no orange peel, and whole wheat flour instead of all-purpose. Oh, and I used powdered sugar for coating the baked cookies instead of granulated. The all-lemon tasted great, and the whole wheat flour made it look like I used REAL SAND. Hahahhaha!! Who knows - maybe I healthied it up a smidge by using the wheat...

 

Happy 4th of July, Y'all!