Carrot Cake Drama

Dear drivers with handicap placards, remove them from your rearview mirrors. It is disturbing to me a driver near you, knowing that your field of vision is being blocked. You are now seriously handicapped with your driving skills. That is a parking placard not a driving placard. Oh? Yes I can speak about this I have had one!

On the topic of this, was yesterday “DV Drive as Fast as You Want Day”? I was passed by three large SUVs at various times and places all with DV plates that were going 15 mph over the posted speed limit. Weaving in and out of traffic being a serious hazard to those of us who were driving well within the legal limits. The sign said 30 I was at about 34 and after weaving and bobbing and being a terror to other drivers you finally make it ahead of us all and slam your gas pedal down and roar off doing what could only be 50. The hospital was the other direction. You were in the vehicle alone. No lights, no sirens. Maybe you had a serious need to pee?

As I mentioned I was having carrot cake tasting with my committee yesterday.  I had it all planned out and the timing just perfect. I was about 20 minutes late getting to my first location. I arranged with her when I would be there, but no matter the sample was not ready. I told her I would be back in the afternoon my tasting was not until 3. No worries I moved on to the next location to pick up some samples of some things I thought might be good for the swag for our guest upon their departure. Picked those up and headed for my next appointment.

She was being a bit aggressive and left me feeling like I was stealing cake from her and being dishonest. I must admit this was unsettling. The committee was not going to commit to a cake we could not taste.  Now I was having to dash all over town picking up samples and battle myself and the feelings her behavior and comments left me with. I think it was the implication I was somehow being dishonest that disturbed me the most.

I drive to my next location and they were unprepared as well and looked at me as though I were an alien speaking Romulan when I asked for the cake sample I called in ahead and ordered.  On a more positive note for all you young women out there I do know where all the sugar daddies are having late lunches. Oh, both of you young bartenders who feel you must be the first ever in your chosen career and do not have a long tradition of manners, protocols and behavior to abide by. RUDE!!! You were both rude! I may not have been a customer coming in to sit at your bar at that moment but I might have been a returning customer. Might…. As in maybe I would come back. But no, I will not be back. Not to your place or any other of your branches in any other state. Congratulations. You have lost your owners cash. Well done!

My next stop is brilliant and filled with peace and beauty. I will buy from her in the future. I am feeling pretty positive as I head back to the first location. I walk in the door expecting the sample. The sample as in one sample to be ready. No, it was not. I wait and wait as icing is slapped between two pieces of cake and then slapped into boxes and handed to me in a bag while she asks if this is cash or charge? WHAT???? I have 3 extra boxes of cake here at the house where the icing is sliding off and the top layer is stuck to the top of the plastic container.  As a matter of humor the one entire piece of cake lifted up with the lid. Super glue in the frosting??  This cake was not chosen as a winner by my panel of tasters. Good thing because the lack of respect that was shown to the cake and to me and to the organization was appalling!

So I get to the tasting venue and set up the blind taste. I cut all pieces to look very similar in size and frosting amount. Placed on plates with each piece in a specific place so we can all compare the same piece each bite. I wait, the event planner and I wait, the golfers all wait, the waitress waits, and we wait. I make phone calls and we wait. My committee never show up. So I make a new taste committee out of who is left in the room and they are wonderful. Great palates, informative and helpful. We chose a cake.

I have to go now and inform the winner.

Oh I forgot to ask, Pepsi dude is your neck OK? That girl should not have pulled off her shirt to walk the street in her bikini top in front of you like that. She could have seriously injured you and your neck. Thank Jesus you were not driving. We could have all been hurt. 

Sugar Tip Sabrina

I have a friend, Sabrina who lives in San Diego. Her husband Vince who was also a very dear friend passed away 6 years ago from cancer. When he was first diagnosed and his cancer labeled terminal he and Sabrina decided to plant a Rose of Sharon which later became the center tree in the Memorial Garden in her backyard.  This garden is located near a fence at the back of her yard which is the barrier between her and a road that leads to other neighborhoods and a school.  Sabrina keeps her yard and gardens beautifully manicured and green. She picks up after her dog and even cleans up after the three feral cats who find sanctuary in her yard on occasion.

Sabrina is a gentle woman who will share everything she owns and will help anyone who asks. She is quick to forgive and has amazing stamina and courage. Vince had an enormous capacity to find humor all the time in everything. He would tell stories about Sabrina but embellish them in such a way that she seemed to possess superhuman qualities at times. They had met in Okinawa. Her father was stationed there as was Vince. They were married and served out a full career in the Navy. Vince and Sabrina retired in San Diego where Vince became actively involved in the community.

After Vince passed from this world to another adventure in the next Sabrina worked and dug and planted and created the beautiful Memorial Garden that exists in her back yard today. She emailed me yesterday extremely upset and now so am I. She went out to work on the garden plucking at a random weed, cutting a blossom here and there, spending time on the bench under the shade of the Rose of Sharon when she noticed a plastic bag under the tree. Part of which was snagged on the bark and ripped, the contents of the bag laying all over the ground beneath the tree.  She is all for people picking up after their dog but to then throw the bag carelessly into a yard you are passing by without a thought or concern for the person who owns that yard and the damage your selfish act leaves in its wake.  You threw your dog’s shite on a tree her and her husband planted while he was very ill with terminal cancer! Do you know? Do you care? Did you do it on purpose and have a good laugh when you got home? You did not want to be seen walking your goofy black lab carrying the bag of shite like you are the dogs valet and not its master. Maybe you should NOT have a dog. What did that tree, that yard, ever do to you that you felt the need to defecate all over it? Better question what did Sabrina do? Even better what did Vince do? Served his country in the Navy to keep you, your family and your dog safe and free. So you say “thank you” by throwing shite at him? Where the bloody hell are you from? This is the land of the brave. Vince’s service record makes it clear he was. Your record now shows you are not! One word for you….COWARD.

What is a Rose of Sharon? What Vince planted for Sabrina is actually called a Sugar Tip Rose of Sharon or Sugar Tipped Hibiscus.  It blooms continually with blushing pink flowers that look all the more impressive because of the variegated coloring of the green leaves.  They can grow up to 8 feet tall and spread as wide as 6 feet. They are perfect for a garden center.  They are attractive to hummingbirds which happen to be an obsession for Sabrina and to butterflies.

The purpose of the tree was to bring a constant supply of life, beauty and peace to Sabrina, to remind her that Vince loves her.

                                 Sugar Tipped Rose of Sharon

That is all I am going to say about that.

Today is tasting day for my team for Gala. I will be travelling all over the area to grab various samples of carrot cake. Yes we will be having carrot cake at Gala  and toady we will be having lots of carrot cake. Wish I could have found a carrot cake cheesecake.

mmmmm….. Wish me luck!

Bad Cat

You never know what names you may come across while hunting ghosts but there it was on a list while I was hunting for Matthias Ayres, Johann Henrich Schertz.

We are not related to these Schertz people. It is an unusual name and since it is also the name of a village near where I live I noticed it. The list is called German, Swiss, Dutch, French and other Immigrants in Pennsylvania 1727-1776.

I just came across a website for ghost hunting called…. You are not going to believe this…. Whosyerdad-e.com (as in who’s your daddy.com).

Monday has started out with my cat Scarlett peeing on a new rug in my bathroom. She just cannot stand rugs on floors or she hates me. From the look on her face I think she hates me. You can just see it, she is thinking “peasant! I pee where I want!” Yes, there is a litter box in the house. Yes, I know the experts say if they display inappropriate behavior there is something wrong with them. No, she is just a bloody cow! I just lectured her and she is giving me a look now that interprets “You are on some sort of psycho rant woman! You need medication!” I know the look because I had a fiancé that would always say that to me (and his ex-girlfriends) when he displayed inappropriate behavior and wanted to cover his guilt by shifting his own anger at himself to me. She is now sitting on the floor staring at me, flicking her tail about. Use your words cat!! I am already fussed up.

My brother has enlisted me in a performance today for his (step) daughter’s birthday. We are going to costume ourselves as hill-billie country bumpkins and surprise her at school with a wild version of Happy Birthday. It is official. I am an actress. Of course since it is my brother it is going to be a low budget production with costuming coming from the vast selection of odd clothing in my closet. Peasant looking skirt, straw hat, messy braided hair, an apron and an old Harley Davidson shirt.

Speaking of being an actress. On two separate occasions at two separate bars/clubs/dancehalls I have had people tell me I am nosey and rude for asking questions and creating conversations. WHAT??? One guy mentioned he was in a play so I started asking him questions about the play, his involvement, what else he had performed in. I was interested! The other fool had a tattoo and was getting all upset about it. Dude!! If you did not want to have to explain it then maybe you should have had your arse tattooed!! I would not ever, ever, EVER!!!!! Have seen it. After some evaluation and considering where I was I have decided I perhaps belong at an art gallery or coffee hangout. Maybe these guys were hoping I was a lonely cougar. NO, you bloody wankers I am a jaguar and I hunt/prowl and play alone! But then silly drunk girls are just as bad. Oh, your hairdresser is mad at you because you want bangs? Oh, your friends are trying to talk you out of Botox? Yes I am sure they are jealous. You spilled a cosmopolitan so your date bought you a rose. Sweet. No, those jeans do not make your arse look big. You are a size 3 woman!! Eat a bloody cheeseburger, with bacon!!! You are a grown-ass, over 30 something woman. You are supposed to have an arse!! Being the only sober person in a bar can be entertaining actually now that I think about it. I am getting an idea for a book! Conversations at a Bar. Or… I Walked in a Bar and….. Or,  Observations of the Sober.

I also have no tea and no coffee. It was my intention to go buy groceries over the weekend but I got involved in a hint I discovered ghost hunting that we are related to Joan Crawford, the actress. You youngsters who do not know who that is there are a plethora of movies out there go watch some. She is/was a most beautiful and talented actress. More on this later.

Ok, I have tried to include fleshy things in my diet and well… I just do not like hunks of meat sitting on my plate. I cooked a flank steak stuffed with spinach and feta rolled into a pinwheel last night. No. Ate a small portion and threw the other away. Picked most of the chicken out of the pasta I made. Cook my bacon until it is crispy as a saltine cracker. Same with sausage. I am not saying I am vegan. I just do not care for flesh on my plate.

I am up for adventure today! We will chat tomorrow!

Sin Eater

It is not that I dislike children, it is the insanity that takes hold of parents that creates this feeling in me. Here it is 2 days before school starts and you parents are racing from store to store in a desperate attempt to buy “school” clothes. The choices in stores at this time of year are… fall clothing. Fall clothing created with New Hampshire, Illinois, and Colorado in mind not the blazing hellfire of Texas. It is still 104 outside and you strangely believe that your child needs long sleeves, sweaters and hoogies. 

                         

You are racing through the clothing retail world like you are a contestant on Master Chef and have 22 minutes to raid the pantry, prep, cook, plate, and serve a 3 course meal for 12. New jeans, new shirts, new shoes, new bags, you knew this day was coming! Yet there you are at the last minute buying an entire school wardrobe, school supplies and dorm room decor. You are hostile in the store, selfish, rude, and demanding and if you would have done all this earlier you would not be performing like a demented maniac in front of your children who if you paused to notice are now terrified and realizing that school is the cause for this negative behavior.  Don’t you think they deserve to start the new school year calm, confident and happy?

In a previous letter I mentioned Sin-Eater and now it is time to discover what one is.

Sin Eaters perform a ceremony right after death, especially in cases of a sudden and unexpected death when a person has not had a chance or time to confess their sins and be absolved. They take on the sin by consuming a piece of bread (usually), a glass of wine, or other food that has been placed on, held over or waved over the deceased. It is believed that the sins are absorbed into the wine or food and taken into the body of the sin eater.  This practice gained slightly in popularity in the 1700s and sin eaters were hired to attend every death to eat the sins of the dead so they would not enter hell or come back and haunt the world seeking forgiveness for unconfessed sins but would instead rest in peace.

Some customs requires the burning of the cup and plate used by the sin eater so they were usually made from wood. They were paid a small fee and were to sit outside, the “sins” would be brought out to them.  The bread that is eaten in the various cultures took on names such as funeral biscuit, corpse cake, burial cakes, in some regions the bread is shaped like a person and the whole of it eaten. Dead cakes are made with the initials of the deceased baked into them.

Sin Eaters were considered unclean, unholy, consorts of witches, and were social outcasts shunned by the villages. They lived on the outskirts of town and were barely tolerated because they were needed. During the height of the popularity of sin eaters the Roman Catholic Church excommunicated them for being unclean, un-absolved and for interfering in the sacred ritual of last rites which could only be performed by a priest.

Spider Man and Daredevil have an adventure involving a character known as Sin Eater who just so happens is also an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. or is he? Is it a coincidence that Stan Lee and Stanley the real name of the Sin Eater are so similar?

I just had a fact pop up on a site I am researching telling me that there are more chickens in the world than people. I thought you might want to know that!

 Every addition to true knowledge is an addition to human power.

Horace Mann

So according to Horace I have granted you who read this, power!

You are welcome.

State vs. Pearis

Click on the link State vs. Pearis to read  2 pages out of a book entitled: Report of Cases Determined in the Supreme Court of Appeals of the State of West Virginia

West Publishing Company, 1892     State vs. Pearis

I know the legal chat gets in the way so let me just tell the story and in doing so I am letting my oldest nephew know that certain things are hidden deep in his DNA. Like mischief, orneriness, the ability to get caught up in an out of control situation and family loyalty. Also, I grew up with his dad!

George W. Pearis of the State vs. Pearis above is my 1st cousin 4 times removed. We will now call him Georgie.

In 1889 when the above incident occurred Georgie was 80 years young and living in Mercer County, West Virginia. He had never married and owned and operated a tavern in Mercer County for many years.  In 1850 he was living with his widowed mother, the widowed wife of his brother Daniel and her 3 children Sarah, George and Virginia.  By 1868 his niece Sarah who lived in his house had married an ambitious attorney, David Emmons Johnston. By 1880 Georgie was living in a house with Judge Johnston and his family. David Johnston was a member of the West Virginia State Senate, a US representative for the 56th United States Congress and a State Court Judge. Can you just imagine the pride and family loyalty? From farmer/ tavern keeper to living in a large home and having nice things.  In 1888 David Johnston was a judge on the Ninth Judicial Circuit Court who was running for re-election.

Looking north across Court Square toward the old Bell Tavern/Hill's Hotel in the late 1880s. Parkersburg West Virginia 

This is not the Tavern but it may have looked like this in town. 

Georgie was probably over in the Tavern, which was open and serving on voting day, in November of 1888.  Since the husband of his niece was running he was probably promoting and even buying drinks. It was November, cold outside, there was probably a huge fire in the fireplace roaring with heat and warmth. Joseph R. Johnston mentioned in the indictment had probably been in the tavern enjoying some of the free ale being bought and handed out by Georgie before going over to the courthouse to vote. Joseph who is now happy and feeling fine, votes for David Johnston; who may or may not have been a relative since they have the same last name. He is probably telling everyone that Judge Johnston’s Uncle is buying ale for any man who votes for his nephew across the street. Vote for Judge Johnston! It is easy to imagine how this could all be turned into some very negative publicity by the losing candidate and his supporters. Georgie was just a bit excited and probably well into a good buzz when Joseph just happened to get drunk before voting or…. Georgie was getting voters drunk and urging them to vote for his nieces husband Judge Johnston.

I just have to wonder how this all would have ended if everyone had a cell phone and were tweeting “Come on over to the Tavern old man Georgie is buying rounds!  His nephew is running for Judge again!!!” Did he do it on purpose or was it just a quirk in the natural order of the day?

DMV Fee

Many years ago officer O’Idiot pulled me over for some paltry thing or other. I have no recollection of his list, yes there was a list of infractions. I had just moved back to Texas and all my information still said California. It was February 7 two days after my Birthday and my inspection was due in January apparently my driver’s license had expired on my birthday. My address was incorrect, I had been here less than 30 days and my insurance card said it expired in January. The new one which began again in January was lost in the mail cycle. I was insured I just did not have the new card which comes with new dates every 6 months. So, yes that was also on the list. He ran out of room on the ticket and scribbled it on the side. Driving without insurance he said. I told him I had insurance. He said if your driving license is expired you cannot have insurance. WHAT???? Was he stupid?

 So I go to the clerk’s office and show proof of insurance with the new dates a few days later and she says the ticket stands. If I want to argue I have to go to court. What argument? I was giving her proof I had insurance. She and another of Satan’s wives stand behind their bullet proof glass and speak to me as though I am the reason their husbands have divorced them. I have never been at traffic court so when I try to ask them what that all means they just give me a court date and call for an officer to come over because I am unruly. WHAT????? 

I have not raised my voice I had passed the insurance through the slot gently and she had shoved it back through crumpling it. The officer is now asking me what the problem is while looking at the two of them cringing in terror behind their glass. Seriously? I explain and he says I had better just get an attorney and come back for court. Or?? Just pay it and go about your business.  So I did.  Let us move forward 8 years and there I am at the DMV a couple days ago when they tell me I cannot renew my license because I have to pay a fee. WHAT???? Yes I am on a list for criminals who drive without insurance. Who knew? I have to lose my place in line after waiting for an hour and 37 minutes to go home get on a computer and pay this fee.  Drivers of Texas, you are welcome those road repairs you enjoy were paid for by me!  Apparently I will have to pay for this for the rest of my life. I have had insurance with the same company since I was 16. This is ludicrous and if I had the money I would hire an attorney and deal with this NOW!!!

There was a bright spot while at the DMV a pilot in his ohhh so sexy flight suit came in.  What was really scary was the number of women who were dressed like ‘People of Walmart” with tattoos of faded out unicorns. Yes, unicorns on their arms, their backs, their legs. Some with a rainbow and some with flowers circling their faded out lavender unicorn heads.

 I glanced at my tattoo and was pleased I had not gotten some little girlish thing wrapped around my arm. Soon I noticed that the well-dressed people were sitting over near me. I giggled with glee the room had become two different social classes. It was like a sociology experiment being conducted right in front of me and because I had to go home and come back I got to see it twice. It was not based on ethnic or cultural differences it was a perceived social status based on how well people were dressed. My tattoo was exposed but I was dressed very well so even though they looked at it with a bit of disdain they still sat near me. You could see their thoughts play out on their faces. A frown and then a shy smile as they made their decision. I greeted them all with a big grin. I wish this had happened back in my college days I would have written a paper in this.

What was annoying was the little girl sitting next to me with the pony tail who kept flipping her head to talk to her mom and slapping me with it. I wanted to get out a pair of scissors and cut that hunk of hair off her annoying little head and politely hand it to her with a smile.

Then two guys, who came in together, sit in front of me, cross their legs at the same time and lift their hands up to their mouths where they both proceed to chew on their fingernails. I could not help but laugh. One of them looked like he belonged in Austin. He had a short tiny little pony tail and a thin elastic headband on his head. As a young girl walked by he looked her up and down as though judging her fashion choices. Uhhh dude, you are wearing a headband, flip flops and shorts that look like you snagged them at Abercrombie & Fitch and put them on straight out of the drier.

As I stood back up from the eye exam the tissue I had used to keep my face from the gross goo of other peoples sweaty heads stuck to my forehead and the two youngsters behind the desk looked at me with trepidation and giggled. Will the trauma of getting my license ever end?

Tomorrow – sin eater.

Quince = Marmalade

John Harris and Elizabeth Welles, both of Chesham, for bastardy. These two people were charged with this crime while living in Colonial America. I wonder... are they bastards? Did they create a bastard? Was their father a bastard?  I am searching through Criminal Acts of Bastardy. Really?? The law defined a bastard as a child born out of wedlock, or by adultery.  They were illegitimate which meant they had no legal standing in society. (Like it was the child’s fault their parents misbehaved?) If you were charged with bastardy you were also charged with adultery or fornication.

In 1070 bastard children were considered no one’s child and the parent was not responsible for them.  They could not make any legal claim against a parent for support. The wealthy tended to take care of their bastards and the villages took care of the poor and unwanted bastards.

In the 1650s the normal punishment was a fine and a public whipping of up to 15 blows with the whip being the maximum for both people.  If the father of the bastard did not come forward and confess and admit his guilt the mother was publicly whipped. The thought behind this was that no man (notice the word man not male) would stand by and watch the mother of his child whipped and publicly humiliated.  Well I guess we know what John and Elizabeth were up to.

More....

Court records from Salem Massachusetts.

John Legg for uncleanliness – sit in stocks for 1 hour and make confession on the Lord’s Day. (Did he have to take a bath first?)

Abram Temple vs.  John Humphreys, Mr. Howe, Mr. Hauks. Trespass by their horses. (Their horses? Were they on them? Did they just turn them loose? Did they wander off unsupervised?) Verdict for Plaintiff. They will give Mr. Temple 2 bushels of corn and 5 shillings.

Charles Gott – Severely whipped for drunkenness on the Lord’s Day (There goes Sunday football)

Jane, wife of Joshua Verrin, presented for absence from religious worship. Mr. Peter requested time to confer with her again. (Again? What did they confer about the first time? What did they not finish the first time that they need to meet again. I am very suspicious of this.)

James Smith – to be severely whipped for filching and stealing and disobedience and stubbornness to his parents. (This is a public whipping. Did his parents turn him in? Did someone else turn him in? Did he ever speak to them again? How old was he 6 or 16?)

Thomas Rolinson – proven impotent, on complaint of his wife. Was to take counsel of physicians forthwith, follow their advice and report to court. (Can you just imagine your wife going to court and filing a complaint that you cannot have sex with her?

Remember I mentioned quince?  I have been putting quince paste on my bagels and cream cheese.

Quince is a member of the apple and pear family. It is a small fruit resembling a pear and is yellow when mature.  The blossoms are pale pink and the tree is used as an ornamental tree in gardens.  

They can grow to 26 feet tall.  It is native to Southwest Asia, Turkey and Persia (Iran).  T can grow in colder climates such as Scotland.  It is resistant to frost and requires a short cold period in order to flower.

In ancient Greece quince was a common offering at weddings since it was a sacred fruit to Aphrodite. It was tradition for a bride to eat a small bite of quince to perfume her breath before entering the bridal chamber.

It is not tasty to eat until it has become soft from being overripe and had a few frosty mornings. Then it is sweet and delicate like a pear. The fruit is usually cooked and made into jams, jellies and marmalades. It is sometimes added into apple pies to add a sparkle of flavor.  The word marmalade actually derives from this fruit not from Queen Mary as some would believe.  The Portuguese word for Quince is Marmelo and when stewed and sweetened into a paste it is called Marmelado.

Quinces are often made into very sweet wines, brandies and ports. In Middle Eastern countries it is a common ingredient in fragrant meat dishes.

Quince has been used as a salve for rashes and inflammation of the vocal chords.  A spoonful of the jam mixed with boiling water can ease intestinal discomfort. Seeds can also be boiled and the liquid when strained can be drunk and aides in pneumonia.  Eating too many seeds can cause volatile gas, and do not mean in your car!

That little bit of quince in an apple pie sounds very tasty... where can I buy a quince?

Cancelled WHAT????

Hey Lady!

 I should be able to walk my dog without having to tolerate you mean mugging me. You had a little hairy dog. I had a little dog, a toy poodle to be exact. I was on one side of the street you were on the other. Our paths were not going to cross. Yes, my dog growled but not at you, at your dog. You were attempting to shoot rays of death out of your eyes at me. WHY? I shushed my dog as soon as the first mumble of a growl came out of his mouth. Was it because I was white? Or, was it because my poodle has been completely shaved except for the teal and purple Mohawk he is sporting down his back. He is a Water Dragon!!! 

He is expressing himself and his freedom from the confining dog shell he lives in. He has reached out beyond his perceived boundaries and has become more. Are you jealous or angry about his choices? Maybe you feel I have been cruel to color him so. Are you judging him? Me? Who appointed you to judge us? This lack of tolerance shocks me! You are free to shave your dog. Dye his fur. Shave your own head. Get a Mohawk. Bleach it out and dye it pink. Do it! Nike!

I am NOT in the habit of opening my mail. I only check the box once a month and throw it all away. However, as I was pulling out a Bath and Body works coupon (I love their candles!) an envelope fell out. It was from my insurance company and there was a refund check inside. This surprised me so I called them to ask why? I was about to be stunned. It had been canceled. WHAT??? 52 minutes later they could finally tell me why. Non – payment. Really? Then why the refund? Because……(are you ready for this?)  I had paid them. So I asked them reinstate it. Ok but first your account has been flagged by the bank. WHAT????? Yes because of a credit card. I do not have credit cards. Have not had any for about 12 years. I pay cash or it does not happen. She transfers me to the bank where the next rep is now treating me like I am Jessie James. I can hear the sarcasm in her voice as I try to figure this out. She tells me they will not reinstate my insurance until I pay the bank. WHAT??? I politely terminate the call. 

I call another insurance company and in less than 15 minutes I have insurance for about $22 less than I was paying. 

I am living in some crazy Utopia. My life is full of pale pink horses, giant pumpkins, gorgeous elves, bows and arrows and a whole other life you could not possibly imagine. Then last night I hear “Life In The Fast Lane” by the Eagles and it hits me. The part in the lyrics where is says…
”They went rushin' down that freeway, 
messed around and got lost 
They didn't care they were just dyin' to get off 
And it was life in the fast lane…”

Off? Get off?
 I always thought they were dyin’ to get off the freeway of their drug addiction but maybe, just maybe they were just dyin’ to get off on more drugs.  I believe my interpretation says a lot, about my optimism not my naivety. So what made me rethink the meaning after all these years? It is just how my mind works.

At my daughters Doctors office there is a sign in both English and Spanish that clearly says to not bring your children. Clearly says it. We will ask you to leave, is clearly stated. While we are sitting there a very pregnant young woman walks in followed by an elderly woman (mother?) and another elderly woman (tia? Abuella?) and a little toddler about 2ish. They all sit there smiling and coddling the toddler. Looking at me, looking at my daughter and smiling. Now do not get me wrong. I did not care that they brought their child, really I did not. But as I sat there I thought about the sign and the reason behind it. Then I caught my daughter giggling and flirting across at the baby boy and his smiling family. I realized where we were; a doctor’s office for pregnant women. They thought she, Odessie was pregnant. Those little old mamas were rejoicing with us not realizing that my daughter was there as a follow up to a surgical procedure where she lost her ovary and the other one was damaged and she may not ever have another baby.  There across from us was a stark reminder of this. The sign made sense. Not all women are there because they are pregnant. Some are there because they lost a baby too early, or for reasons similar to Odessie. Not all visits are happy occasions to listen to a heartbeat. I suddenly agreed with the sign. We were dealing with this loss very positively but that does not mean every woman does. We smiled at the women and I never said a thing. It was our loss not theirs and why have them feel bad? I just want to say, Mamas please leave your children at home when visiting your Doctor. That woman next to you may have just loss what you are carelessly fussing over. 

One word… Quince.

Repulsive Yoga Pant

I stepped out the door with Gucci, leashed him and off we walked. Not a fear or care in the world. It was 6:15AM and the sun was not yet awake. We had the hood to ourselves for a moment.  As we were coming up the walk to the front door I froze gasping in horror. There in all its disgusting ugliness was a giant coockuroach, scampering along the wall by my front window.  I removed my shoe and charged, smashing it I hoped, back to hell. I dashed backwards preparing for another swing. I was a gladiator! The bloody thing leaps from the wall at about the same time and charged me. Gucci charged after it now that it was ground level. The monster broke right and disappeared. I gasped in a deep breath of air and slowly exhaled trying to calm the fiery blood of my Pirate ancestors.  

I moved tentatively around the corner of the railing looking down, waiting for an ambush. It did not come.  We moved further onto the porch when SURPRISE!!! There was another monster by the front door. Fortunately for me I had unknowingly ambushed it and it fled in terror disappearing.  But as I unlocked my front door and went in it occurred to me that it may have ducked into the space between the decorative boards on the wall by the door and could jump out and attack me the next time I went outside causing me to have a heart attack and thereby killing me. I raced to the kitchen and grabbed the bug spray. I was going to spray down the walls and doors and the entire porch.  While doing this I recalled that I had never had this problem while my porch light annoyingly burned bright.  They had until 3 today to replace it.  I sprayed and sprayed and as I turned the corner there went a coockaroach scampering back across the wall by the window. I sprayed, coating it in a slimy film of poison. It retaliated by charging at me. I quickly re-coated it and it ran toward my front door. I loomed hesitantly around the corner and then charged into my home waiting. I just knew it would come oozing under the door.  It did not. Later that morning I braved going back out to start some laundry when I saw a dead one laying by the front walk. I left it there as a warning to other miscreant monsters. Maintenance replaced the porch light bulb and later last evening when I went out to walk Gucci guess what did not turn on? The light! I stood mortified. Had the kin of the dead come to torment me? Was this going to be a revenge killing? Would I just be terrorized? Why had the light not worked? Gucci and I raced through the porch onto the walk and he nervously did his business. We then raced back inside and slammed the door bolting it. I armed myself with a broom and the spray and waited staring at the front door, Gucci staring at me.  We sat there for what seemed like an hour. I finally grabbed a beer and a cigar and became that character, Major Alan “Dutch” Schaefer, played by Arnold Schwarzenegger from the movie Predator. 

I sat in a chair and waited.

This morning I waited until daylight to walk Gucci. I am going to file another maintenance request. I want that light fixed.

Some of you may have an idea about what I am going to describe, others may find this highly erotic but when you are a female, non-lesbian and you are eye level and not 6 feet from this view it is repulsive. I was waiting for a perspective member at a coffee shop, sitting in a chair when in walks 30 something yoga pant mom with all 5 of her kids. First of all, this is NOT Orange County California. 

You are not one of the housewives of Beverly Hills, nor is this Miami and Zumba just let out. 

This is a small village North of Austin. It is bad enough you view your yoga clothes as an acceptable wardrobe for the street but you had to buy the see-through yoga pants. 

So there you are parked at the counter ordering muffins for your already hyper children and yourself coffee when the crack of your butt is shimmering through the opaque blackness of your overly tight yoga pants. I have heard of this phenomena but thankfully I had been spared, until now.   Not that you did not have a fairly nice butt, but having to see it while pleasantly sipping my coffee was like watching the chef making your pizza stop to change the cat litter and not wash his hands after he was done and got back to shaping the dough. Are you aware? Did you buy them on purpose? Do you even know for sure who the baby daddies are?

That last comment was a bit of a meow. It is not that I have not had my share of dressing inappropriately but I was a bartender/cocktailer in a biker bar.  My only income, 4 children (yes I do know who the 2 baby daddies were, my X husbands) and at $2.35 an hour I needed tips. Lots of tips. I did not go to the local coffee shop dressed that way, I had other clothes for public appearances.

By the way I saw maintenance man yesterday and the porch light is now working. 

 My potential member did not have to witness the yoga pant incident or he would have been extremely distracted and the whole meeting useless.

I have another meeting today and am thinking about wearing my pajamas. What say you?