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8月31日 Random stuff...A Cowboy Honeymoon
A cowboy and his wife had just gotten married and found a nice hotel for
their wedding night. The man approached the Front Desk and asked for a suite. He said, 'This heerza special 'casion -- our honeymoon -- and we need a nice suite with a good strong bed.' The clerk winked -- 'You want the 'Bridal'?' The cowboy reflected on this for a moment and then replied, 'Nope, reckon not. Guess I'll jist hold on to her ears til she gits used to it.' * * * * * * * * * We got word on Wednesday that the auxiliary gym would be used as an evacuation shelter for Gustav. As my boss told me, "GYA! The HPE Center is definitely going to be a shelter again!" I replied with, "Oh shit. What's that gonna do to basketball and volleyball practice?" Then we looked at each other and laughed, acknowledging we were selfish shitbirds for thinking about our own little world instead of the poor old people from the nursing homes who would be displaced to a stinkin' gym. Nothing else was said - didn't have to be.
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Here's a conversation between me and my SIL yesterday morning:
ME: Did you read that funny joke I sent you?
SIL: I don't remember - what was it about?
ME: I don't remember but it was hilarious.
SIL: I think I got something 4-5 days ago that I thought was funny.
ME: That was probably it but I don't remember what day I sent it.
SIL: Well, if you think about it send it to me again. I won't remember it and it'll be funny again.
ME: I will if I remember.
How sad is that? I'm surprised I remembered that conversation. Ha!
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Looks like I'll get some o' Gustav. If you watch the weather maps with the anticipated path you'll see him die down to a tropical depression again somewhere in East Texas right about where I live. We're expecting a LOT of rain mid- to late-week. Maybe some wind but not too bad. I'm figuring it might be like we had for Rita a coupla years ago. The buses who brought people to our campus yesterday from Beaumont (TX) were in bumper-to-bumper traffic for about ten hours yesterday for a 4.5 hour drive. They said it was bad. I went and filled up my gas tank yesterday as I know good and well that gas prices are fixin' to skyrocket again because the big refineries are all on the coast. Even if nothing happens to them the oil companies will use the storm as an excuse to drive up prices. Bastards.
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I took some pix at the football game last night but the batteries died in my camera and I haven't been to the store to get new ones. Thus, I can't download them yet. I'm pretty sure they're crap anyway as I am NOT a photographer. My friend had to show me how to work the damn thang, then I had to wear my glasses so I could see the screen. And the ones with zoom are either blurry, or my eyes were. I couldn't tell which... Hopefully I'll get a few good shots of Texas football to post. Raigen did well as a cheerleader. She's cute as a button. There were 3-4 of her fellow cheerleaders, though, who tied their shirts up and rolled their waistbands down until they looked like strippers. The creator of the bikini once said that the bikini was sexier than being nude because it left something to the imagination. I agree. There's something so "nasty-looking" about waistbands rolled down so far ya hold yer breath everytime they jump for fear the shorts will totally drop off. Yech. I guarantee my daughter wouldn't be out there lookin' so slutty. And yes, I said something about it to the ghetto fab'lous gay cheerleader coach. I would also bet that if the cheerleaders were to wrestle each other - the girls would win. They were MUCH tougher looking than are the guys. Most of the guys on the squad are the types we made fun of in high school. Okay, I still make fun of 'em. Be gay if you want to, guys, but don't go around limp-wristed. I just hate that - just like I hate seeing dikey-girls. Why can't gays stay in the closet like the good old days? Ha! (And I'm considered a LIBERAL where I live!!!)
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I'm done. 8月27日 Heroes...I was watching the Democratic National Convention last night to hear what Hillary had to say. It's my duty as a Yellow Dog Democrat that I watch at least part of the convention {yawwwwn}. Anyway, Chelsea*Clinton introduced her mom as her hero. Although I wasn't a Hill-Backer I got a little lump in my throat at the obvious closeness between mother/daughter. (I can relate to that because of the closeness my Mother and I shared). I thought how fabulous it is that the girl thinks her mom is a hero - and I thought how it would be seeing your mom do all those speeches, being cheered, awarded standing ovations... Then I thought how unfair that people get to see her mom the hero when many of us feel the same way about someone we know but they're just regular ol' folks who will never be on national television, etc.. My parents were most definitely my heroes, although I didn't consciously think it. It just happened because of the way we lived, the values they taught us, the love they had for us, the expectations they had for me and my siblings. Oh, they didn't "expect" us to be rich and famous, but they did "expect" us to work for what we wanted, to find something we enjoyed and then do it, to be kind to others, to believe in God and serve him as best we could, and to always "do the right thing." And if we did those things then naturally we would love and be loved. Not a bad gig.
So, yeah, my parents were my heroes. Both were teachers. Mother taught art; Daddy taught math. (Weird, huh? One parent right-brained and one left-brained. Kinda explains my schizophrenia. hahaha) Both had a deep compassion for their fellow man; a compassion founded in their belief in God and their love for their families and each other. They didn't just teach their subjects, they cared about the struggles and successes of each student. They put up with crap from unreasonable parents, weak administrators, and dictatorial board of trustee members throughout their teaching careers in small schools across the state of Texas. But they also shaped and moulded the minds of countless young people, with Daddy teaching them the practicality of mathematics and Mother opening minds through the creative expression of feelings. They not only graded a student on their performance, but also taught them to take pride in doing their best. When we were young Mother stayed home with us while Daddy not only taught classes but drove school buses and worked extra jobs in the summer so we could get by - and milked a cow before he left the house at 6:30 a.m. to drive that bus route and again at night when he got home. So, no, they were never on television, never led what was even close to a glamorous life, but if you measure their value to the people around them - to our world - they were most definitely heroes.
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One of our women soccer players (from England) asked the coach yesterday, "Do you Americans have the same queen we have?"
Chuck T.I.T.S. is the envy of the rest of us today... He met a friend at JFK airport yesterday, rode the subway to Yankee Stadium, watched the game, rode the subway to Times Square to see the sights for a few hours, rode the subway or whatever back to the airport, and flew home today. He took a toothbrush and a clean pair of drawers in his pocket - not even a carryon bag because he wouldn't have had anywhere to put it when he went to the game. No hotel. He got back to town today around 4:30 pm. He was a tired little traveling gnome but he got to see a game from the very last Yankees-Red Sox series ever to be played in Yankee Stadium. What a fabulous thing to have done. He brought me a little bat as a prize. Then he almost had to take it away from me because I was so tempted to beat the hell outta White Boy. Sheesh.
We have a men's basketball player from Philadelphia. He told me he loves it here. He can walk around outside without worrying about getting shot. In America, people. We have a young man growing up in an American city where it feels like a war zone. His mother, although she misses him, is relieved to have him to a safer place. I don't mean to diss on Philly - it's certainly not the only city in America with violence issues - but gee-mo-netty...what the hell is going ON that we have people who have stooped to such barbaric behavior? And why can't we fix that? Where's the pride?
Okay, I gotta go make some dip for work tomorrow. (How's that for a transition?) And dry a load of clothes.
G'night...
8月23日 Dangit...I swore I'd never do it again. You know...hire a cheerleader to work in the office. But my friend has a niece blah blah blah. Jenna was the first cheerleader to work for us and she was sweet as she could be but, bless her heart, dingy as all git out. A blonde in every sense of the word. And she was clumsy. One day, as she was bent over picking something up off the floor that she had dropped, I asked her to open the door all the way. Instead of raising up and then pulling the door toward her to open it, she kept bending over but pulled the door and, well, hit herself in the head realllly hard. I had to put my hand over my mouth so she couldn't see me about to bust out laughin' as I watched her rub her head with a puzzled look on her face with a quietly mumbled "ow." The worst part was that Jenna always needed to "go run do something." Where's Jenna? Oh, she had to run make some signs for the football game. Where's Jenna? Oh, she had to run get a uniform. {sigh} So I vowed never to hire another cheerleader. But then good friend Jeff called about Raigen and I said I'd give her a shot. She's a cute little girl. She called Wednesday morning to get directions. She got lost on her way to work and was parked "in a place somewhere with lots of big buildings. Maybe, like, a mall." My boss was questioning her about where she was so he could guide her to the campus and our office. He asked her to name some of the big buildings she could see - but she couldn't see because she forgot to put her contacts in her eyes. Later in the week I was sitting at my desk and I said, "Raigen, I need copies of these and then you can file the copies and send the originals to accounts payable." We're about eight feet apart in my small office. No reaction. "Raigen?" Still no reaction. "RAIGEN!" Her head spun around and she said, "Oh, are you talking to ME?" Shit. She may be a brunette but she definitely has blonde roots. And it's gonna be a long semester...
A while back I saw a group of football guys walking toward me on the sidewalk. One of them was limping. I said, "Ohhhh! Did my baby get hurt today?" He said, "Yes, ma'am." He was limping so I figured he sprained his ankle or twisted a knee, maybe a charley horse. So I say, "Poooor baby! Want me to kiss it and make it better?" The entire group busted out laughing, and the injured guy ducked his head. "WHAT?" I asked. No sprained ankle. No twisted knee. He got hit in the nuts. So I don't ask that anymore.
I got an early start this morning and got all my housekeeping chores done by early afternoon. This is quite unlike my procrastinating self, especially since I do not enjoy housekeeping. I like my house clean enough not to be quarantined by the health department, but I'm not anal about having floors you could eat off and stuff like that. So, if you come see me you can be confident that you won't get typhoid, but if you drop some food on the floor just let Timber get it - don't try that 5-second rule thing. By the same token, if you spill something I won't be spazzing over it. We'll just throw a towel on it and it'll be just fine. Why have a house if it ain't comfortable? Oh, I got sidetracked... The point of the story is that I was so pleased with myself for not procrastinating that I made myself an appointment for a pedicure this evenin'. I ended up calling my friend whose son is dying and whose granddaughter died earlier in the summer and insisted she go with me for a pedicure. We were two of the last people in the nail place. Everytime I thanked or complimented Cha Ching on what she was doing she responded with, "Feels good. You pay more." And I'd say, "Doesn't feel THAT good." And then we'd laugh. I had to open the nail polish for her (because she had lotion on her hands) and I said, "If I open for you, you pay ME?" Hahahaha. I always look around and none of the other women are talking to the pedicurists, but mine always talks to me (even if I'd rather sit there in a trance). Anyway, my friend thoroughly enjoyed herself. She's been so depressed... She started delving into the mental benefits of getting the pedicure. "I'll feel so good for the first day of classes." And, "This has lifted my spirits so much that I'll have a better outlook on life. How do YOU feel?" I replied, "How do I FEEL?" And then I started dancin' reeeeal goofy and singin' "I feel pretty, oh so pretty..." as I showed her my pretty pink toenails. Ha! Cha Ching did a nice thing, though. When she finished with my toes she stood up, put her hand on my arm, and said, "I so tired, but we laaaaugh, we have good time, I not feel so tired anymore." I thought that was a very sweet thing to tell me.
After that we met up with another friend and had dinner at a pizza place. They have the best salad bar in town. We ate and then sat around visitin' for a couple of hours. It was a very nice evenin' and I was glad that my friends also had a good time.
I gave Timber a bath today (another thing I tend to put off since he makes such a mess of the bathroom). He's so funny. When he's in the house he carries around one of his toys, usually a rope that's knotted on both ends. We toss it around, he likes to play keep-away - good times. He followed me to the bathroom and I said, "Okay, drop your rope and get in the tub." And he did it. Hahahah!!! He loves a bath. Then I bathed me. (I love a bath, too.) Such a good dog. Uh, I mean Timber...not me.
Well, it's gettin' late. I guess I'll go to bed before I turn into a pumpkin. Hope y'all are havin' a good weekend, too!
Later... 8月19日 The way we see things....I was chatting with a friend today when we kinda got into a discussion about how we see things. He's a romanticist - the way he photographs and writes about things is so sentimental and sensitive. It's lovely. When I complimented his photography and told him how romantic I thought his photos are, he says it's probably because that's the way he sees the things he photographs. To me that's an amazing thing to be able to do - to make someone else see how you feel about something through photography or some other medium. Not just pictures of things or people, but the feelings and mood involved with that thing or person. I told him that made me feel like a Picasso amongst his Monets. Picasso represents the abstract, while Monet is soft, delicate, and beautiful (in my opinion). While the abstract can also tell a story, it's just not as purdy. While his mind's eye is showing him "a beautiful green tree whose limbs are stretching out across the soft ground to shade the life underneath," MY mind's eye is shouting in my head, "LOOK, A TREE!" Oh gosh, I think my mind's eye has ADD.
It's weird how the way we see things forms our opinions, moods, actions on any given day. I had noticed it earlier when the soccer coach was in the office. His butthole was puckerin' because he was stressed that the season opener is next week and we've had rain the past several days which has prevented a good practice session for the team. I, on the other hand, was happier than a pig in shit, lovin' the rain because the fauna and foliage needed it. Also, I just like a rainy day (especially when I'm at home) - it's cooler, it smells good, the sky is darker, makes for great napping/sewing/reading/watching old movies, and I know it's making the flowers grow. When I'm at work I seem to get more done on a rainy day. I have no earthly idea why because at home on a rainy day I prefer layin' around like a cat.
Another thing my friend was trying to make me see today (but I was having a hard time catching on because of the umpteen interruptions I had from rude office people) is that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. (At least I think that's where he was going...) If an artist hands me a sloppy little drawing, I don't see beauty in it. But if a three-year-old hands me a similar sloppy little drawing done just for me, I think it's beautiful. I wondered how he knew that one of my prize posessions is a picture of Snoopy colored for me by my nephew when he was about five years old. It's framed and hangs in my home...still (he's 30 now). Doing something for someone with love changes the vision. Seeing something done by someone you love changes the vision.
We were talking about art today, but the same sentiment goes for anything. Kinda like the difference in payin' a hooker for sex and making love to someone you care about. (I know - probably a lousy analogy but it's what popped into my mind first.) [And if you're thinking, "What's the difference?" then you need git outta here, ya sick bastards.] Okay, okay - try this one...It's the difference between the chocolate chip cookies your mama made from scratch and the factory made ones she bought at the store. Ya with me now? Both cookies are made with the same ingredients, save two - time and love. Just two ingredients that completely changed the taste of those cookies.
I guess the main thing I'm tryin' to say is that I (we?) need to see things more than one way. Somebody may give me a bad picture, but is it the best they can do? Did they try to do a good picture? If so, then it's really a good picture - that, or what can I do to help them make a better picture? If the lady on the phone is a bitch, maybe she's havin' a bad day. If I don't like what I see, maybe I should try lookin' from a different angle. Somethin' I thought ugly might turn out to be downright pretty after all.
Or maybe people really are just dumbshits that should stay the freak outta my way.
Now that I've rambled on (see what I mean about A.D.D.?) I'm gonna leave you with one of the funniest things I've read in awhile...
Hypnotist at the Senior Center It was entertainment night at the Senior Center. Claude the hypnotist exclaimed: 'I'm here to put you into a trance; I intend to hypnotize each and every member of the audience.' The excitement was almost electric as Claude withdrew a beautiful antique pocket watch from his coat. 'I want you each to keep your eye on this antique watch. It's a very special watch. It's been in my family for six generations' He began to swing the watch gently back and forth while quietly chanting, 'Watch the watch, watch the watch, and watch the watch...' The crowd became mesmerized as the watch swayed back and forth, light gleaming off its polished surface. Hundreds of pairs of eyes followed the swaying watch, until, suddenly, it slipped from the hypnotist's fingers and fell to the floor, breaking into a hundred pieces. 'SHIT!' exclaimed the Hypnotist. It took three days to clean up the Senior Center. 8月18日 HAPPY BIRTHDAY JEAN!When I got to the office this morning I found the note I had written myself to remind me that Jean's birthday is/was August 17th. I was determined to remember since Jean is so good about remembering stuff about the rest of us. GRR!! Well, Jean, I'm sorry - I'm an idiot - but you see why I write myself notes! Ha!!
Love ya, Chick!!
8月17日 Well, Charlie!I found my book authored by Charlie Waters and Cliff Harris. I wish I had had it when they were on our campus to speak and when I got to have lunch with them, but I had loaned it to the tennis coach. Anyway, I sent the book to the pair to have it signed. I wanted it to be a generic signature but how do you ask someone not to personalize a signing in case you decide to sell their book on ebay? Seemed like a rude thing to ask so I didn't. Since I was sending the book I decided to send the double-bed-sheet-sized banners that my mom had painted and which I had displayed at games in the Cotton Bowl and Texas Stadium during the Seventies. Huge caracitures of Charlie Waters with some sort of humorous and idolizing phrase. They were pretty dern cool. I even included a letter explaining the banners, told what I thought was a humorous story about chasing a teenage boy up the steps at Texas Stadium to retrieve my banner, and informed him that I was retiring from stalking him. I even told him I had finally decided to part with the banners as well as my Tiger Beat pictures of David Cassidy. I thought the banners alone would get some kind of response. But...no. He returned the book with an 8X10 glossy autographed photo of himself. Uh! Which part of "I'm dumping my childhood memorabilia" did he not get? Why autograph a book AND a picture? I am sorely disappointed. Really. I expected a reaction to the banners. Maybe he thought I really was a stalker. He has no way of knowing I'm way too selfish and lazy to be a stalker. Oh, well. At least I've rid my closet of another box of useless stuff.
I went to the annual pre-season fish fry with the football team last night. We had it inside since it was so miserably hot last year. Of course, we're having unseasonably cool temps so it would have been quite pleasant outside - but nobody could have predicted that. I'm sure it worked out a lot easier for the preparers to have it in a restaurant rather than haul fryers and stuff to the lake. And it certainly made my drive shorter. I shouldn't have gone. I didn't really want to but my friend wanted to go and wouldn't go without me since I'm her athletic department connection. But I was cranky and I kept taking things said to me wrong. Ugh. Toward the end of the evening, though, we laughed until we cried as we teased Chuck about signing up for a spinning class. Where I live is hardly a metropolitan area and so things like "spinning" and "moisturizer" are not things REAL men do/use. Manly forms of exercise are weightlifting, running, or anything involving a sport. Everything like spinning, aerobics, and pilates are for girls. So, in the testosterone-filled dining room last night jokes were flying about Chuck in spandex, bikes that don't go anywhere, bells and tassles on his spin bike, stuff like that... Chuck's defense of being so "progressive" is that his bike is parked directly behind a young lady who looks realllly good in lycra. Ha!! Horny little bastard!
The school year officially kicks off tomorrow with faculty/staff meetings. Bleah. White Boy and I worked hard last week so I'm ahead of the game on the frickin' textbook order. I'm not at all sure what's gotten into me - I've been so productive lately on both the work and home fronts. I absolutely MUST be hormonal. Ha!!
I can't find Forest Gump's phone number so my yard is gettin' pretty high. I'm hopin' I'll catch him when he comes to mow my neighbor's yard but their's looks about like mine. If I don't find his number pretty soon I'll have to skip him and hire a hay baler. Sheesh.
Speakin' of my neighbors...I just hate livin' in town. Ugh!! The other night around 11:30 my neighbor drove into the driveway in his refurbished 1990-something Impala with his music up loud and his bass vibrating the entire block. And his driveway is right underneath my bedroom window. I'm thinking he'll turn the vehicle (and music) off as soon as he gets parked, but he didn't. So I put my pants on, went to the front porch, leaned around the corner of the house and yelled at the top of my lungs, "HEY!" Down went the volume. Me, "Give me a break, Man! Your bass is shakin' shit off my walls!" Neighbor, "Sorry! I turned it off." Me, "Remember, you're right outside my bedroom window." Neighbor, "I'm sorry. I won't do it again." He's not a teenager. He's late-twenties/early-thirties. I was tellin' my friend about it and she said I'm gonna get shot one of these day. Yeah, well, at least I won't have to listen to that effing bass if he shoots me! It never dawned on me to be afraid my neighbor might shoot me. I thought he would appreciate me talking to him myself instead of calling the cops. Maybe I don't think right. Oh, well. He didn't shoot me. He might have shot me the finger but it was dark so I didn't see it. But he sounded real nice...
Well, y'all have a great week. I'll be busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kickin' contest but I'll try to check in now and then. Later...
ADDENDUM: Charlie Waters and Cliff Harris were very popular Dallas Cowboys back in the 70's-80's. And hot...verrrry hot. At strong safety and cornerback they were known as The Dynamic Duo.
8月14日 Wasted opportunities...Every kid who reports to participate in athletics at my college must take a drug test at the beginning of the year, with random testing throughout the year. Every kid who is scheduled to report, or signs a national letter of intent, is told about the testing numerous times well in advance of the testing date. Non-freshmen are suspended for 20% of the season, dismissed from the team if they test positive a second time. Freshmen are dismissed immediately. Yet every year we lose anywhere from 2-10 athletes to a positive drug test. We don't test for steroids (it's really expensive to do that) but we do test for pot, cocaine, amphetamines & barbiturates, etc. This depresses me. It depresses me that kids are either that stupid or that hooked on illegal substances at 17, 18, 19 years old that they would risk free college for a buzz. We had one kid bring a tube of pee with him to the test. He must have left it in his car for awhile because it was 116 degrees. He swore it was fresh, blah blah blah. The trainer tells him, "Son, if you pissed this outta your dick then you are one sick ******-******." The kid didn't realize that anything above 98 degrees, normal body temperature, is a huuuuuge red flag. Sure enough, they made him pee again with the guy from the lab watching, and he was absolutely hot-positive for marijuana. It's amazing how many "innocent" kids test positive. But, we give them the opportunity to test again at their expense. We don't WANT to send people home, but we're also not going to waste a scholarship on someone who is at high risk to test positive again and be ineligible to play.
The kid who brought the pee is not the only one who has tried that. Here are some interesting attempts to get around the test results:
* Dipped their sample outta the toilet in order to dilute it.
* Swore they ate a bunch of poppy seed muffins.
* Swore they took over-the-counter diet pills. (This one is well-used by drill teamers.)
* Bought pee from "nerds."
* Drank a ton of water in an effort to dilute their pee.
* Drank jars of pickle juice after they heard it would mask test results.
* After testing positive for alcohol (special request test by coaches wanting to enforce the no-drinking policy) a kid said he ate an entire "wine cake" so he wouldn't hurt his grandmother's feelings.
* He came back and changed his story to taking too much Dayquil. Trainer pointed out that Dayquil doesn't contain alcohol as it's non-drowsy.
* Came back and said he made a mistake, it was Nyquil.
It's a damn shame that college kids get a more severe punishment than the NFL, NBA, MLB, etc.. You get, what, four "second chances" in the NFL - don't know about the others, but they get more than one. I think that sends a very clear message - If you're good enough in sports you can get away with just about anything. Professional sports wouldn't have to kick but a couple of guys outta the leagues before it became clear that they weren't gonna put up with that shit. But, no, there's the union, the lawyers, the agents, and even the fans, who keep the pressure on to let things slide. It's okay to cash in on little kids buying jerseys and shoes because they idolize a player, but when that player gets in trouble his first comment is that he didn't ask to be a role model. Well, yeah dude, you did. Hotshot high school athletes are often treated with favoritism, or with different expectations of behavior - especially small school kids. In their minds every one of them is a future pro-baller. Confidence is crucial, but a good dose of reality doesn't hurt. The percentage of athletes who move up to the pro level is miniscule.
Every year we see kids who have a chance for a free education squander away the opportunity either through the drug testing procedures, or disciplinary reasons (fighting, breaking laws, repeated violation of college policies/procedures), or flunking out, or just being homesick. I have sympathy for the homesick ones - been there, done that.
This is the yechy part of pre-season. Weeding out the dumbasses. Survival of the fittest. See who's hongry. Woo-woo-woo! {as she fist-pumps} It's a necessary evil. Ya have to go through this to get to the bright lights, cheering crowds of game night. Ya gotta have guts to get glory. It's the plight of the caveman played out every year on sporting fields, courts, and tracks across the world.
Time to get in the game, folks.
8月12日 So busy!I knuckled down and got a ton of stuff done at work today. I kept my nose to the grindstone and barely looked up, so I had people asking if I was upset, or if I was mad, or if I felt bad. I guess they're not used to seeing me work so hard. Ha!! I think I'm a little offended...hahaha.
I'm a little proud of myself lately. I accomplished several projects at home over the weekend and then I've been super-productive at work. What's up with THAT? Where's that procrastinator I know and love? Whoop! Found her - she's lurking in the hall closet that needs to be cleaned out and organized. Ha!! Oh, no, there she is hiding under the dust on the mantle. *giggle* Maybe I don't miss her after all - she's alive and well and ignoring the vacuum cleaner.
I've been repairing rips and tears in football jerseys. Actually, this blog is a bit of a procrastinate on finishing those. B-o-r-i-n-g. I need to finish them pretty soon, though, since they'll need 'em in a coupla weeks.
Oh, I had a great visit with my friend from Louisiana. She brought some fresh salmon and halibut that she and her husband caught in a recent visit to Alaska and I fixed some for supper on Sunday night. Wow. I rocked the kitchen! Baked fish, rice pilaf (made with brown rice and fresh veggies), and steamed vegetables. But that fish. Unbelievable. I've never had fish that good before. Tonight I baked another hunk of halibut and had a humongous salad with it. Dee-lish. I kicked Giada's, Emeril's, Rachael's, and Paula's asses in teh kitchen this week. Ha! Saturday evening we went shopping. My friend found all kinds of things to buy (as usual) and had them piled up on the counter. A tiny little oriental lady who worked at the store sidled up to me and whispered, "She yuh fliend?" Yessss. "She mellied to doctuh oh lawyuh?" I was a bit taken aback, so I giggled and said, "Neither." She said, "NO??? Who she melly?" Me, "Retired [athlete]." I WISH I had said a truck driver (he also owns a trucking company) or mailman but I wasn't on my game. Shoot! Why do ya always think of good stuff to use after the opportunity to be a smartass passes?
Coach and his family got home from their vacation on Sunday night but I asked if I could keep Genny a few more days. They let me. I guess I'll have to give her back tomorrow since Coach's little girl wants her home. *sigh* She's such a sweet dog and she keeps Timber company during the day. Last night, though, we had thunderstorms and Genny woke me up frantic at about 4:00 a.m.. Shit, er, chit. I put her up in the bed with me 'n Timber (which pissed Timber off so he jumped down and went to his cushions in the living room) thinking she would settle down but she didn't. She panted and walked around the bed for nearly an hour when I got up and gave her some benadryl. Okay, I drugged the damn dog. But it helped; that and the thunder subsided a bit. She finally laid down and went to sleep...about an hour before my frickin' alarm went off. CRAP. (Let this be a warning to mothers of crying babies - don't let me babysit. Benadryl is a wonderful thing. Ha! )
Wellllllll, I guess I better get back to my sweatshop and fix some more football jerseys. Bleah. God bless the zigzag stitch, that's all I have to say.
Later, Y'all. 8月10日 Annual Eval & Jungle Roses...I had my annual evaluation last week. Pffft. What a farce. My boss and I hate it. After all these years we both know my strengths and weaknesses. Strengths: good with people, get my work done in a timely manner. Weaknesses: 8:00 a.m. challenged. Eeeeeeevery year it's the same. What a waste of time, effort, and paper. I have good intentions every night when I go to bed that I will spring from my bed the next morning and force myself to get to work by 8 o'clock. Then I can't go to sleep. By 6:45, when the alarm goes off, I'm dead tired. I plan to lay there five more minutes. Okay, ten more minutes. Then, 30 minutes later, I drag out of bed thinking to myself that I better get the lead out and get ready (!). But I find myself shuffling to the bathroom, turn on the shower, sit on the toilet and then I seem to go into some sort of trance staring at the wall. After a while I don't even know how long I've been sitting there (one of these days I'll probably have 'roids down to my knees). Then I get in the shower and go into a similar trance. Finally, when all that's done it's about a quarter 'til. Must....have....warpaint (makeup) and that takes another seven minutes. I'm usually outta the house by two minutes 'til (or five minutes after), drive like a bat outta hell to get to work (now that I'm semi-awake), get there 8:15ish, sit in my chair (outta breath), and go into another trance, as if all that effort took too much out of me. The bosses don't speak to me until I settle down for a few minutes. God bless those who "don't know" and start talking to me and asking work questions right off the bat. Once they pull me outta their throats or stop shaking from the look I semi-unconsciously give them, I resentfully answer their questions and we move on. After about ten minutes (or an hour) I'm good to go and we all laugh and cut up the rest of the day (usually and unless one or all of us is/are having a bad day). I've tried to change, I promise. I've not been a morning person all my life. According to family, I have always been cranky in the morning, even as a toddler.
Rodney Daingerfield's widow has a website where she sells "Jungle Roses." They're huge and they come in a box with a tiger on it. I yearn to receive a dozen jungle roses before I die. I prefer white, but she only advertises pink and red, so I'll settle for pink. They're about $150 a dozen. Now, I live in a city known for growing roses. They sell a dozen roses on street corners for $2 - but they're small. Very fragrant, but small. I want those big mama-jamas, and I want them in that box with the tiger. It's a runnin' joke (although I could mean business unless some doofus buys 'em for me) with every male I know (almost) that the man who gives me Jungle Roses will receive a lovely thank you from me (uh, *blush*, head all night). One of the smartasses at work asked if they all pitched in, would I "thank" all of them. Uh, no. "Even if that's the only way you'll get Jungle Roses at that price?" Hmmmm, I'll think about it - get me the roses and then I'll decide." "Can we get you the box of just rose petals since it's cheaper?" No. "Can we get the Jungle Majesty Collection since it's cheaper?" NO - it must be the roses! So, after fifteen years of yearning I still don't have my Jungle Roses. My friend told me that if I want them that bad I should just order them for myself. No, no, no - if you don't buy them off the street corner then roses should ALWAYS be sent from a man. I think there's an unwritten law. Oh, and I must receive them at work so everyone knows I got them (DUH!). To all men everywhere - don't waste good flowers by sending them to the woman's residence if she works out in the public. The best part about getting flowers (other than actually getting them) is for all other women you know to KNOW you got the flowers. FYI. And you will never get me to give you a straight answer if you ask me if I've ever sent myself flowers anonymously (on Valentines Day)...so don't ask.
Later, Y'all!
8月4日 Pure meanness...Things were so silly at work today. It started with the twin coaches (seriously - twin brothers) coming in at 8:20 wanting me to look at something at ebaumsworld. They got frustrated with me that I couldn't pull it up on my computer until they looked and I was typing in ebombsworld. I'm tellin' ya - we have communication issues. So I finally got to the correct site and we watched an hilarious video - cried laughing for about 20 minutes. After that everything seemed to tickle our funny bones. The volleyball coach went to the airport to pick up some athletes...ON THE WRONG DAY! Ha!! We told her she has shit-for-brains! Hahahha... The trainers were en route to a two-day teambuilding and bonding wilderness camp. Well, we call it wilderness camp which highly offends the instructor for some reason. Technically it's not actually wilderness, just a state park in Mineral Wells, but there's no air conditioning in the cabins and I don't know about you people but to me that says wilderness. Ugh. So the trainer texts my boss and says it's 105 degrees at the park - the return text was a picture of a sno-cone (that I had fetched on my way back from lunch) and my boss saying he was shivering cold in the air conditioned office. The sno-cones were fabulous. I drove back to the office like a bat outta hell tryin' to get there before the sno-cones became flavored water. Luckily it was a short drive. The boss told me that was an excellent thing to do right before my annual evaluation - he was sure my score jumped several points. Ha!! Then I'm talking to one of the twin coaches who was frustrated with a new co-worker's inconsiderateness and I tell him what he shoulda done which was, of course, a mean thing. And then I tell him, "The next time you need to know something mean to do you need to call me." And then I hear my boss softly say in his office, "Because there's looooooooooots more where that came from!" I slowly turned my chair around and looked at him but he had turned his chair around and was exaggeratedly looking at the wall behind his desk. Hilarious.
I came home for lunch today around 1:00 pm so I could put Timber and Genny in the house. A hunnerd-n-two degrees is too hot for my baby! Hahaha. I had to leave them out on Saturday when I went to Dallas. I was worried they wouldn't have enough water or they'd kick the waterbucket over...so there are now about twenty buckets, bowls, and containers in the backyard full o' water. Saturday night ('bout midnight) when I got home I let the puppies in and the first thing Timber did was run to the damn toilet to get a big ol' drink. I'll have to go out in a coupla days and put fresh water because I don't want to have mosquitos what with the West Nile and stuff. I haven't heard anything about West Nile this summer but we've had it around here before. They also carry stuff Timber could catch, not to mention how they bite the shit out of us. We grow 'em big here, too. In fact, there's talk of making the mosquito the state bird. Ha!
My niece had a project for me when I got to Dallas on Saturday. CeeCee's daddy signed her up for gymnastics and he takes her. It's so cute. But she had to have a leotard. The smallest they make leotards is a 2T. I had to take inches outta the shoulders and crotch to make her's a size 1T (which I don't think exists). I'm gettin' pretty good at shrinking Cee's clothes. I also had to take in about three pairs of bloomers for her tiny hiney. They're hoping to tame her inner monkey with the gymnastics. The crazy baby climbs onto anything and everything and then jumps off. Uh!?! She's fearless. Her mama took her to swim lessons earlier this summer and she took to that like a fish. She scared the piss outta me the last time I was up there because CeeCee jumped into her little pool (less than a foot deep) and then floated there lifelessly for a few seconds before she rolled over. I thought she had hit her head and knocked herself out, but she was showing me how she can save her own life in the pool. I'm too old for that shit. She looked at my panic-stricken face, laughed, and said, "See, Auntie?"
Damn - I made a good supper tonight. I have a garden salad full o' veggies and a baked chicken boob that I marinated in italian dressing. Yum. And, instead of wine, I have red KoolAid. Life is good... Remember when you were a kid and your mom would ask what flavor KoolAid you wanted and it was either red, purple, or green? Ha!! We didn't say the actual flavor - just the color. Now there are bizarre names for the flavors. The only ones I buy are red (fruit punch), purple (grape), and lemonade. Love em! But that pitcher with the face on it always kinda creeped me out.
The one night they have the Astros on ESPN-HD and they're in a dadgum rain delay. Guess I'll fix my niece's tanktops for her...
G'night y'all... 8月3日 The *expletive* Tag Thing...LAWS IN TAG-LAND
Shupe, ArtisticBaker, and Dana have all tagged me. UNCLE, I scream!! It would require too much thought for me to link back to them and to come up with eight more people to tag, so y'all play along if you choose but nobody has to feel obligated... And, for the record, I hate to be tagged - but you SEE how susceptible I am to peer pressure! hahahahaha.... #1 - I can't use the bathroom with anyone else in the vicinity. [Piss-drunk doesn't count. You wild children know of what I speak - that point in the process where you're so piss-drunk that you don't care where you cop-a-squat just so you don't wet your frickin' pants.] #2 - You can talk about anything you want to, even while I'm at the dinner table, and it doesn't bother me...but if I see maggots I gag. I have a cast-iron gut until I see maggots. {shiver} #3 - I'll only wear cotton panties. I can't stand the feel of nylon underwear. (And not all cotton panties are granny-panties! You can now get cute styles in cotton!) #4 - I like smells other people find noxious; barnyard manure (dairy barns smell fabulous!), Icy Hot (or Ben-Gay), man sweat (except in certain areas at certain times), little kids who have been playing outside all day (that combination of laughter, sweat, and dirt), Zippo lighter fluid (I know, I know - it's probably illegal to sniff those but I don't do it on a regular basis), the smell of the Turning Basin (bay) in Aransas Pass, Texas (a combination of dead fishbait, diesel, salt water, old wood, and sand - and it's where I can smell my mother's childhood), and a saddle when first taken off a hot horse (leather and horse sweat). #5 - I love office supplies. One of my favorite things is unpacking the boxes of new pens, tablets, gadgets, file folders, and stuff at my office. Especially pens and paper. Fun times. #6 - I feel guilty most of the time although I'm not sure for what. #7 - I have secret thoughts all the time and if people could read my mind 1/2 would whip my ass, 1/2 would think I'm a pervert, and 1/2 would think I should be institutionalized (take your pick: jail or nut-house). And the other 1/3 would wonder what I'm smokin'. #8 - I typed many #8s and then deleted them because they were too personal, too much information, or too telling. Okay, now I can stop feeling guilty for non-paricipation in the tag drill. Ugh. Later, Y'all!
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