OK, So I Took Basic Math My Senior Year

So last night I'm having this dream about riding Amy's horses (We did that yesterday afternoon) and then I have to get off the horse to make room for stuff to be stacked inside a camper (It all made sense then, but of course now, that's all fuzzy.)

And as I'm stacking stuff, I have to move my pot of soup out of the way and put it in another container that will hold just as much, but be taller. So I got to thinking ". . wait a minute. There's a formula for this!!!! I'll be dogged! I DO need the stuff they taught in algebra!"

And so, there I was, going "Is it volume equals pi times diameter times height? Or is it pi times radius times height?" And it actually woke me up! I couldn't get back to sleep! I don't even know where to go to find that equation!

So, all you teachers . . .which is it or is it something completely different???? I need to know. I need the sleep!

On the Heavier side

Besides being afraid of frightening wildlife, I have learned so many things this last weekend.

I learned not to expect people to act a certain way. They never do.

I learned that some people must be handled very, very carefully, because sometimes learning to grow up just isn't as important as feeling accepted. Some people just aren't ready for it.

I learned that the love I had for Amy Lamore, which I thought was as deep as they come, could get even deeper.

I learned that I am loved. Me. By Jennifer and Amy and Lorene and Sharon and Tina and Kim and Betty and Mildred, and Rosie - - these people really love me, maybe as much as I love them. Wow.

I learned that God sometimes uses my big mouth to His advantage.

And I learned that immarturity reigns. And You know what? The world hasn't and won't stop because it does. I learned that I have grown to be able to smile through and past it, and come out the other side a little wiser - not angry or irritated.

It was a good weekend.

Better put on your shoes outside the bathroom window.

Ok, I'm back and had fun. But, man, I have got to add another thing to my abhor list -

I HATE it when you're on a weekend retreat with all the sweet ladies in the world - -in fact, they're ladies that are so feminine and gentle that they are the definitions listed under 'True Lady' in the World class of world class book of etiquette - if that even existed. And they you're in the same room with them and you have to have gas but if you did they would melt into these blobs of rose smelling puddles, never to be seen again.

So the whole weekend, you have a stomach ache, you're afraid to laugh too hard and can't even go to the bathroom to release pressure because it's so pent up, the trees would move outside the busted widows should it . .uh . . escape.

I hate that. Really a lot.

Ignorance is cowardice.

"When I was young, I spoke as a child, acted as a child . . . but when I became an adult, I put away childish things." {Jackie Hutton paraphrase of 1 Corinthians 13}

Kids act and react based on feelings, and not knowledge, right? Ignorance is bliss to them. To simply live in a world where all is good and right and kind is a sort of heaven that gives us (I think) a glimpse of the future. But you have to grow up and put that away. You have to learn, and live with that knowledge.

I say all that to say this - I'm going on a retreat this weekend to the hill country. I have been aching to be there with my sisters. But every day - indeed several times on some days - I am bombarded with knowledge I would slaughter a pig to not know. I learn more about people that I love that is not encouraging at all than I ever EVER wanted to know.

And with that knowledge comes pain. Real, pain. Can we emphasis that word enough? So do you pretend it doesn't hurt? Do you ignore it? Do you crawl up into a hole a cry?

To remain ignorant is purely cowardice. Grow up - I tell myself again and again. Mature! Grow! Take the stupid pill of wisdom, Jackie and move on!

Oh, to be a child again. But I'm not. Guess it's time to accept that, huh?

Power

Was reading Amy's blog and I got to thinking, what would I do for me with a whole paycheck? And it occurred to me . . man, nothing. Is my life so dull that I have no wishes? Where's my sense of Santa Clause?

It's due to the fact, of course, that for some reason, I am Robert's weakness. I can't figure out why, but he is absolutely nuts about me. I don't even know if he has it in him to say no to me. Honestly, I can't think of a thing, for me, that I need or even really want because he makes sure I have it all.

Man, what kind of power trip is that?

It occurred to me that if I chose to, I could be a real 'less than desirable' wife. I could spend, spend, spend, and complain and squander and use.

Wow - like I said before, what a power trip.

ARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!

So there I was, driving to Lackland, having to spend a good 45 minutes in the truck one way and three times out of four every single preset station had talk, commercials or pledge drives!!!! I kid you not! It made me crazy! It was the same way on the way home.

And then, if I found some music on one of them, it was Bill Radwad and the three mago heads playing 'Tie a Purple Grape Vine Round the Ole Mesquite.'

. . and then . .

In the mood I'm in, there ain't no ' . . and then . . . "

Words

It has occurred to me that maybe the only person we should be 100% open with is God and God alone.

I have hurt someone by my big fat mouth. And it doesn't matter that I never meant to, that I would just 'a soon' kill a pig than hurt this person (I have come to love her so much she makes my day with her smile), still, inadvertently, I did. Just by not thinking before I spoke. Just for thoughtlessly disregarding how my words might appear. Just by being obtuse me.

Words will always hurt even if forgiven years ago. Actions will always be remembered no matter how long forgiven. Our jobs on earth are to be encouraging, to spouses, and closer than kin friends.

Please don't bombard me with "but, Jackie, if a friend is really a friend . . ." or anything that would justify mean, thoughtless, or hurtful words. I have come to disbelieve that they are ok ever.

Room With a View

When I forget my keys (which is more times than not), I come into my house by way of the garage. It opens to the computer room, then right into the laundry room where you come up against the short hall way that leads to the rest of the house. On the wall facing the door coming in from the garage are two picture boards - you know, the ones where you stick pictures up and change them out periodically. It's a messy fun sort of thing that fits into my decor perfectly.

On my two boards are the grandbabies. Specifically, Kaia leaning back against the couch laughing so hard her little eyes are almost shut. Just above that is Rob and Brandee, hamming it up for the picture and then just across the way is Jaci holding a laughing Julie. There are tons of James, and Jarred and Julie and Jaci and Ruby and Brandee and Kaia.

And it hit me today, I love to come into the house and have these guys smiling at me like that. No matter how bad or rotten I feel, that shot of Kaia always makes me grin. Wadda great view.

Maybe I forget my keys on purpose.

Hercules, Hercules, Hercules

Ok, so here I am at the show, and Hercules is all calm and sedate. I tell him to back and he says, "Ok. Is Tornado or Tesster in this arena place?". And I tell him to trot and he says, "Ok. Gotta cookie?" and I tell him to stop and stand quietly for 3 seconds and he says "Ok. Don't you think we should try out a 12% on the sweet feed?" and I tell him to trot into a box and he says "Ok. Does alfalfa really make horses sick?"

In short (no pun intended) he did awesome. Sure they gave him a 4th of 10 in the obstacle, (but no one there understood it - he was the only mini that backed - honest. I have it on tape.) But that doesn't matter. He did EVERYTHING I asked quietly and not trying to bite me once. And he got first in in-hand-trail. Yes, Jennifer, he made a liar of me big time.

Don't guess he's on the 'for sale' black anymore. In fact, I think I need to take him to the vet. He must be sick.

If you Wanna Learn Humility, Buy a Horse

Blogger was all weird yesterday. Couldn't get on - there was something wrong with their site. Anyhow, I have a couple of minutes before I have to get ready for Church - we thought this was the fall back day and it wasn't so we're running late - by an hour! ha!

Hercules was so good I think I'm making an appointment for him this week if I can find a second. When I get back from Church, I'll post a picture or two, but for now . . he made a liar of me yet again.

If you wanna learn humility . . .

Round 2

Ok. I'm off. It's me and Hercules and the obstacle course again.

And I know he's gonna do rotten - Every time I've worked him he's been rotten. He lopes on the jumps - (Not supposed to) and pushes his hiney away at the backing and ground tying???? HA! - - - (I so crack myself up.)

So why wastes time and $$$? Because it's so much fun.




Well, yee ha.

Choices

Heaven or hell? Christ or the world? Hmmmm.

Got to thinking about the choice thing I wrote about before. Jennifer and I were yaking about it and I thought, no, there really is no choice. Jennifer said that we do have options and you know what? She is so right.

. . . and then . . .

Then I think, ok, what do you want for dinner? A steak cooked exactly how you want it, salad and corn on the cob or would you prefer dog poo. Cold. With worms.

Or how about a ride 4 miles in the smoothest limo, with a dvd player, climate control at 70 degrees, a personal pedicure person and a big fat glass of root beer. Or would you prefer to walk 4 miles barefooted in a four acre passel of grass burrs, in 104 degree heat and 100% humidity wearing sweats?

From what I understand in scripture, it's just that black and white. So technically you do have a choice.

But what kind of idiot would prefer the poo and the grass burrs?

An uninformed one. Someone without a clue. Someone without hope, or with non- existent self esteem or simply apathetic. And, man oh man, there a lot of people who prefer poo to steak and grass burrs to a limo.

Kinda makes you want to go out and get to work on the envangelisim, huh?

I think I'm gonna puke

There are things in everyone's life that scare them so bad, make them SO nervous that they can't function right. You can't concentrate and you shake, and your stomach is rock hard all the way to your sternum. Could be taking charge of a situation, getting up in front of people, singing in front of people . . whatever.

With me it's sending off my writing for possible publication. Or entering my artwork in competition.

Just found out that my profile will be published in Horse Ilustrated in January of 2007. And the magazine runs a book publishing company and they want to see my book.

I think I'm gonna throw up. This is what I've wanted since I could scrawl a 'J' and I think I'm gonna puke.

PRAYERS!!!!

Can we say it louder?

An Hour of Time

"Time is a wheel in constant motion. It's always rolling us along.
Tell me who wants to look back on their youth and wonder where those years have gone."

You turn right and take your eyes off the road for a second and BAM. You get in an argument and out of your mouth come hateful things that hurt - not just for today, but for always. Every time I make a wrong move, I wish there was some way to have those minutes back right before that decision to change it. But time refuses. Every time, she says no.

Yeah I know, life is life and you deal with decisions made, ok, I understand that.

But why not make those decisions good ones? Why not choose the good? Honestly, as Christians, isn't the decision on how to act and react out of our hands? Sure, we're human, but come on. We can do better, right?


If you had just an hour to get the house clean as good as you honestly can and then receive 2 million 4 hundred thousand and 789 dollars for the work, would you waste that time? Wouldn't that hour become precocious? Wouldn't that hour provide the means to an end?

I say all that to say this; Time is merciless. Like a vise, it turns constantly, pulling life from us whether we fight it or not. It always wins.

And it's the only thing that gives us a chance at hope.

The power of the consumer

If I hear k-love say one more time about how amazingly awesome they are, that they have helped 47 and 89 thousand people daily . . and that their pledge drive is just about to kick off . .

Talk about being a little self righteous. Talk about desperate for money. They talk about the same thing after every single song, with the same blah blah blah . . . Jamie once said that he had better things to do than listen to what some disc jockey had for breakfast . . Well, Jamie, you the man.

Can you say change the channel?

Helpless

When I was visiting Jaci, Jah and Julie in Hawaii, I got that call from Barbara. And it made me feel so helpless because there was no way I could be there for her. She was in pain and she was alone and an ocean and a continent separated us. If she needed me, if she was dying, the best I could do would be 20 hours to get to her. Helpless. I was tied so far away that I became effectively useless. And there was nothing worse than that feeling.

. . and then . . .

There was an earthquake in Hawaii today. Two of them. Over 6 on the scale. My three babies - Jaci and Jah and Julie live about 120 miles from the epi center. And I am an ocean and a continent away. They're fine . . . it's all good . . . but I am an ocean and a continent away.

Never think it can't get worse. I hate these lessons.

Sometimes I just make myself tired.

You know, I really am a deeze wad!

Case in point - Robert is one of those, 'Can do most anything' guys. Electrical? Plumbing? Carptentry? . . .Where did this guy learn all this stuff? I've been married to him 26 years and I know he didn't go to no schools while I was around (me neither judging by my grammar). I mean, it drives me nuts. If you have a busted sprinkler hose, he's all over it. If you have a building that needs to be venilated, he's your man. He's even leveld a room in a house. LEVELED A ROOM IN A HOUSE??? He is very talented at just bout everything.

Another thing he excels at is not being able to say no. Don't matter who needs it, he does it. He volunteers, he takes charge, he drops everything for his work, for little old ladies in the Church, for middle aged balding men . . it don't matter. Robert is simply unable to say no to a one of them.

Except me, of course. And this really gets me furious because I'm in the back of the line - if i made the cut at all. ARRRGGGHH!

. . and then . .

And then I see myself growling at Robert over a the fact that he wants little bit of nothing and two seconds later smiling sweetly at the kid who's dog has just christened my leg. I'll drop my world should anyone call with something they need, be it me or anything else. But I roll my eyes and sigh heavy and deliberately audible sigh when Robert asks me to come see what he's doing in the garage. I actually was able to stand outside myself logically and see myself do that. Sobering. And more than a little humbling.

I think it's time for Jackie to shut up and color.

Yep. Deeze wad. That would be me.

I'm Movin On

Just found out that my family is talking trash about me - again. And while this doesn't hurt nearly as much as it used to, still it bothers me. It bothers me because as a Christian, I try to be what Christ intended, a good hearted scum bag who messes up, but refuses to stay down. And that should make for a kind of grudging respect, huh? So it bothers me that I'm obviously blowing it, but not sure how.

What hurts the most is the fact that it's hurting less and less and less. I can remember when words like I heard today would have found me on the floor. Now I can handle the twinge that happens then spend most of the rest of the time being puzzled at their actions. For those of you that have the unfortunate knowledge of my family, you realize there is no way I can call and try to talk/figure this all out. That would be hari cari - did I spell that right?

Nope. I just have to learn to live with this apathetic hole in my life where my sisters and mother used to reside. They don't know me, they don't want to know me, and they won't let me in to their worlds, and Lord help me, I am so, so thankful for that last.

'I've lived in this place and I know all the faces
Each one is different, but they're always the same
They mean me no harm but it's time that I faced it
They'll never allow me to change.
And I never dreamed 'home' would end up where I don't belong.
I'm movin on.'

. . to quote Rascal Flatts.

How in the world do people live without the Church?

Speaking Jah

Just got off the phone with James. I heard - - "Uh . . . . sis tell a mach reaa laa ca tum?"

He meant - - "Grandmother? What would be your ideas about the situation in North Korea?"

I heard - - "Wall ooo seek a no cheese kell uh. Mee mee see two?"

He meant - - "I would have to disagree with that assessment, paternal grandparent. Would you care to hear my assessment?"

So I hollered at Jaci, I said; "JACI! What in the world is he saying?"
She said she had no idea.

He said; "Quir telll a mach see cha cha. Wheeze wah a mel-ga."

Which translates; - "puzzling. How is one to respect their elders when the elders in question have a problem with English?"

Time to Fess up

If you're commanded to be silent when you know something is being said that is unscriptural . . isn't that a bad thing? If you squelch truth for the sake of peace . . .that would be on the 'Not A Good Idea' list, right?


I ask that to confess this - I quit the 'non-denominational' Bible study. Hey! They tried to equate circumcisiam with baptism in that they stated it was simply a show of faith. And I wasn't allowed to disagree (even though scripturally I had a case) because I might offend. Might offend the baptist, or the catholics - - why am I surprised? The first time I sat in that 'class' I felt odd because I stated that without Christ there was no chance of salvation. I said something about the muslim faith and man, did it get quiet and uncomfortable.

So I'm not mature enough yet.

But you know what? As I write this it occurs to me that I don't want to be mature in the worlds eyes. ('Oh, you're fine in your walk . . You'll get there. I have no right to judge you on your spiritual journey . . " Well gag me with a spoon and kick me against a barn wall! If you're walking unscripturally, then you'd better get called on it before Christ comes or you're in big trouble. And, by the way, we're COMMANDED to 'estimate behavior' - the word that the world calls judging like it's a cuss word. Check the greek.)

Nope. Forget that. I want to stand for Christ.

The problem now is - how does one come across not like a sledge hammer? I just gotta learn tact.

In my day

Ok. Have to say it, even though my age now must be getting into the 'old lady' stage.

What in the world is up with all the tight shirts on girls that are less than thin???? And the 'muffin' pants thing? Why in the world do girls think it looks good (maybe even sexy?) to parade around in shirts that are over their belly button while their pants are low, unbelievably tight and overshadowed by their belly's???? Why is it cool to show off every single lump you have above the bra strap and below the bra strap and between the shoulder straps of their bra (and this is when they wear a bra - - gag!!!!) Is it just me or does this seem to be a really low bred thing? Even though people I know people with money who do the same thing, does it look unbelievably tacky to anyone else but me?

Am I way too old or what? In my day, we hid that stuff -I still do! In my day we wouldn't show our belly buttons unless we were wearing a 2 piece. In my day, we did our best to have and show a little class.

That's it, isn't it? I'm too old.

Well, thank the Lord for age!

The tap

Don't you hate it when you have that little tick in the back of your head that taps consistently that there is something . . .something . .

Something either that you forgot, or that is wrong somewhere . .

Like you left the iron on as your flight takes off for Hawaii. Or you didn't close the door to the stall or the feed room and you're getting into bed. Or you've got that tapping telling you that there is someone hurt, or scared or in trouble.

I have been dealing with that tick for a while, more today than most days. And I question myself . . what? What is it? Is it the stuff with the Church? Is it the stuff with my sister? Are Brandee and Rob ok? Does Jaci need me?

WHAT?

And it hit me,right between the eyes - Barbara.

And I guess I won't be feeling the end of that tap for a while. Oh, I pray it will go on for a while.

Barbara

I've never had someone close to me die before. No one's even really been sick. Wow.

Barbara (my Egyptian cotton mom in law) called today and she sounded so weak it made me want to get to Missouri yesterday (I'm not allowed there now. The kemo makes her really susceptible to infections and I might accidentally give her something that could end up killing her.) She was in what she calls, her 'rubber bone' days. It lasts 11 to 14 days after the therapy and she gets another dose 10 days later.

The cure is worse than the disease.

She can't move well and has problems controlling her speech. She can't eat. She sleeps 15 minutes out of every 60. She also has a tendency to say how she feels no matter what - Barbara is not one for letting emotion rule or really even have a minor role in the theatre of her life.

But she said that she had to call because; "I really miss you, lady."

In Hawaii, I called and told her I didn't like the way she sounded and her response was, "No matter what, Jack, you remember I love you."

I don't want to write anymore.

Egyptian Cotton

"Egyptian cotton!! Egyptian cotton. I'm telling you, Jack, you don't need to buy anything ever again other than Egyptian cotton."

My mother in law, Barbara, is a less than gentle soul when it comes to making her opinions known - yes, Cryssy, there is worse than me out there!. She has an opinion on EVERYTHING and makes sure she voices that opinion. This is the way she is about the most miniscule things - salt, grass seed, paper plates - I've never known a woman who was so furious in her idea.

She thinks and makes sure that everyone in her sphere of influence knows her feelings that there is only one option on the face of the earth (and probably heaven) where you need to go for linens - Egyptian cotton. (When I think of Egyptian cotton, I think of the movie 'Uptown Girl'.) She got mad at me when I had no idea there was stuff out there that was 400, 600 and 900 thread count. She was furious that I gawked at the price. Her face would contort to this severe reprimand look and she would go on and on . . .

. . .and on and on . . .

. . .and on and on . . . .

Until it became the joke of the house. Rob, Brandee, Robert and I would smirk about everything we touched that was made of cloth - -was it Egyptian Cotton? Phlem wad and blasphemer!!!!

I came across some for sale - really good sale and bought them. Laughing at how proud Barbara would be of me, I made the bed, thoroughly entertained that I am a 45 year old woman still intimidated by Roberts spunky little mom.

And oh my word . . . she was SO right. They're amazing! It's like a stupid caress, like you're sleeping on cream (dry, of course!). Unreal!!!

Anyone need to get any queen cotton sheet sets?

Unreal

You have to hang with me here . . all of this is the honest truth.

Was on the way to the vet for my dog but first went to the bank for the payday money stuff. Did my math wrong and there's 5 cars behind me waiting. So I left it, Buelah all excited and heavy and using those huge paws on my bare skin. Took her to vet for her second shots. My sister who works there is in a snotty mood, again, so I decide it's time to call her on it. We get snippy with each other, but it's all cool by the time they bring in this cat (who appears dead) that's been bitten by a rattlesnake. Fine. I help with that for a second, then leave with the carpet cleaner Cheri is letting me use to get rid of all the 'accidents' that are purposely in my craft room. On the way out, it appears that i am just this side short of having a flat on my back right tire on my new truck. Ok . . . Get home to filler back up and can't find the thingie that goes on the end of the hose for the air compressor. So I call Robert to ask, having to yell because the air compressor has a leak and it builds up pressure really loud. Anyhow, so I get that done.

Ok, so I get to work with the shampooer and notice that it's leaving this disgusting black water all over. I call Cheri - "Oh, it's normal. Just keep going." Keep going?? The rugs look worse, so i put that away and go after them with my wet/dry vac and fabuloso - - which works fine.

ok . . so Robert is too busy to put my sewing machine together. Fine. I'll do it. You need a flathead screwdriver - - butter knife will work. Found the phillips screwdriver, but there wasn't a hammer to be found in the state. K. So I'll use the end of the screwdriver. Takes me about three hours (of a lot of shuffling and puffing because this dumb knee doesn't work right) but I got it put together and even found the hammer while I hunted up the electric screwdriver (Which I hoped I'd be able to work, but the screws kept moving weird and tried to go in at angles. So I gave it up.)

After it's done, I leave the room in a mess and go to the bank to fix my first mistake and then to the horses, then to the gas station (the pump was closed, I had to back in to get diesel) and then to walmart. Well, yee ha and it's another trip to walmart. I was looking for tower fan for Roberts computer room. All they have is this one way, way back and it's $40.00. There were upteen million heaters of every shape and fashion, but only this one tower fan and two box fans. (Now, waitaminute. This is south Texas. October. Early October? What? Are we gonna hit a night time low of 65 degrees????) Great. Whatever. I'm wanting to get back and finish the room.

After $130.00 (WHAT??????? "Give me that print out, would you please???") I get home, and the tower fan is a heating fan and I am mad!!!! So I go to look for the receipt (because we will be taking this puppy back), I catch the seam of my favorite capri's on a hook and it rips a hole about three inches long.

It was then I began to laugh. I hadn't realized until that second what was going on with me all day long. I was doing the battle thing and didn't even know it. And I realized suddenly that satan might not miss a trick, but he sure can overplay a hand. To quote C.S.Lewis in the 'Screwtape Letters' . . I think I'll simply laugh at him and go to bed.

However, that being said, I'm going riding tonight - 10 miles under the moon light.

Remember, Amy Brymer gets Tess if she survives.

Two more

It's been a day! Have two more things to add to my "Boy, do I abhor . . " list.

1. People who go 2 miles per hour in a work zone because there are cones on either side and it freaks them out like when you used to play the game 'Operation' and were going for the funny bone. And you finally get two lanes so you pull out, all indignant and self righteous and it's a 120 year old guy with his mother in the passenger seat and so you can't even get mad. AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!

2. Or when you go to walmart and the guy is following you with the box containing your new sewing machine cabinet and you're all full of yourself because she's gonna ask to see your receipt, so you have it out, all arrogant . . maybe a little incredulous that anyone should dare question your morality and - WHAM - - the cashier didn't ring up the cabinet (the total for the other stuff was so high, you didn't think to double check) and the chick looks it over, raises an eyebrow and makes sure you see her writing the whole thing down before she sends you back to pay.


Told you the other was just the beginning.

Dying Young - one can only hope

You know, death doesn't really scare me at all. I don't want to get really old. You know, all feeble and taking 67 thousand pills a day and most of those are calcium. Honest. In fact, there's something euphoric about rest. Real rest. Unfettered, uninterrupted, cozy down in the pillows warm while it snow outside rest. I always wonder if I get the option to just sleep when I get there for a while. Wonder if that's possible.

No, death itself don't bug me, but the way I die does. Man! The thought of how it happens, how long it takes it to happen and most importantly of all, will there be pain?

Pain bugs me. It hurts. I don't do pain very well. God knows this . . . that's why he made my long labor 4 hours start to finish. Still. . . .

Morbid thoughts for a Tuesday, but I always think that way around this time. More days behind than in front. Days looks different now. Every year.

I Have No Life

Went to the stables, like I do every noon time after my sister and I have lunch, and was thoroughly cussed out by my horse. I don't know when she got so snotty . . . maybe she never was very nice.

It's hot and her water wasn't cool (hey, it sits in the sun . . .there's nothing I can do about that, alright? (MAN!) And she was out of hay. And the fans simply moved the hot air from one side of the barn to the other . . it didn't suck anything remotely cool across her little pampered back.

So it's not paradise . . .but hey, she didn't need to act like that. And I certainly never taught her those words.

Stupid barn cat.

The mini even punctuated everything she called me with a tiny little "uuhh huuu!" and a stamp of his pathetic little after-thought of a hoof.



I really need to get out more.

It's war

And what's up with all the Kamah-kazie moths? Is there something goin on in south Texas I'm unaware of? Is there some secret sect of Moth-a-bans that send moths on suicidal missions - - hurling themselves into American radiators, happy to give their lives for the chance to clog radiators with their fuzzy corpses? Are they run by a crazy skinny Luna named O-Motha-been-flutterin, who's hiding out in the crank shaft of a john deer tractor that sits on the side of the road, rusting? Calling the shots - - if he's still alive.


It makes me so happy - - - nay, it makes me proud to do my best to hit as many that comes my way, then scrub the front of the infidel red (very red) Vibe and then go for a ride . . .just because.
(heh, heh, heh)


If it's war they want . . Bring it on, baby.

My idea of a list

Erin and Dana have a list . . Well, I'm not sure what I want to do before I die, but I am starting a list of things I abhor - not simply hate . . That word just don't cut it. This list is a beginning . . Certainly there are things I have blocked that are psychologically too painful to remember.

I absolutely abhor:
1. When you work out with your headphones on and you get sweat that goes down into your ear canal.

2. When you wear flip flops and don't notice the white cracked nasty lump of leather that is supposed to be your heel until you're talking to someone about the "Cute flip flops you bought in Hawaii . . See?"

3. When you have a 'bat in the bat cave' and no one tells you even though when you're talking to them it goes in and out, in and out each time you breath.

4. When you are talking to someone on a really hot day (there's lots of them here) and suddenly you realize they're not standing close to you, actually leaning back a little because you either (a) forgot the deodorant or ( b) forgot the toothpaste. In either case, it's too late. The damage has been done. Honestly, they should have said something.

5. When you laugh and accidentally have gas. (It's never a quiet one at those times, is it? And you're never on anything other than a pew or hard wood surface.)

6. When someone else has gas and acts like you didn't hear it.

7. Or when someone else has gas that is inaudible, but olfactory and they act innocent.

That should do for a starter.