So Easy On The Eyes

This Is How It Works

This...

...goes behind this:

And that is how we keep the back of the truck nice and clean. Neat idea, huh?

I'm sorry, I couldn't resist.

Because He Deserves It

This is our newest addition of toys. Thanks to my inheritance I was able to buy my husband a new truck. Our '97 F-150 took a stumble a few weeks before we got this one.
This is an F-150 King Ranch SuperCrew 4X4 with leather interior. We added the weather shields over all four windows, and also the bug shield at the hood.
It came equipped with Sirius satellite radio, free for six months. My favorite station is All Elvis. I can never get enough of his singing.

When I knew I would be getting the inhertance, well over a year ago already, I had decided that I would use part of it to let my husband pick out the truck of his choice. It was to be a secret. A secret that I was keeping very well. Until the '97 started breaking down little by little. And so I had to tell him of my well-kept plan.

At first he said "no" but after he thought about it he said "OK, as long as it's a King Ranch." No problem there. So I started looking for black ones, as that is the only color I had seen a King Ranch presented in and I thought it was the best color choice. None of the local dealers had any in that color. As a matter of fact, there were very few King Ranch trucks out there. One color that kept coming up in inventories was copper. And that is the very same color my husband had in mind. After I realized that this was his truck and his color choice to make, we decided on the Dark Copper Clearcoat.

It took awhile for us to coordinate our first meeting to see the truck because, although it was listed in the inventory of the dealer we chose, they didn't physically have it on any of their lots. Ford in Detroit insisted it was there, but no one could find it. Seems it was taking the scenic route from its birth place in Kansas City and the day finally arrived for us to see it. And what a beauty she is. Or he is, depending on who you are.

...and to "top" it off a hard tonneau cover color-coded to match the truck was recently installed over the bed. Our other truck had the soft cover with snaps and we didn't want to go with one of those because they simply rot from the sun and weather. Happy to say, we sold the '97 in a private sale.

I would like to add here that my husband and I worked very hard over our lifetimes to get where we are. Nothing came easy. We hit an awful lot of roadblocks and snags along the way. I can only say here that I think we both deserve what we have today.

So Far So Good

First off, don't ever think that I am or ever will be a Cowboys fan. I am, however, a Terrell Owens fan. And I am glad to report that he is doing rather well while currently on the Cowboys' roster. And that makes my heart happy. Because when T.O. is happy, Cheyenne is happy. He has, hopefully, found a home. I became a fan of his while he was with my favorite team, the San Francisco Forty-Niners. (Remember Joe Montana?)

In my estimation, T.O. is a darn good player and I always believed that, given the right team he would excel once again. Time will tell I suppose. I will be watching many Cowboys games now, which isn't so bad since that is my husband's team anyway.

When T.O. played for the Philadelphia Eagles, I think the problem there was Donovan McNabb's gigantic ego. He just couldn't stand someone on the team that was more popular than he was/is. Personality clash, you know.

When he left the '49ers they were not doing so good; actually, they haven't done anything since then. I just wish they could find a decent quarterback. Their last good QB was Steve Young. Then when T.O. was with the Eagles, Mister McNabb had other ideas as to whom he wanted to receive the ball. Well, that would upset me too. After all, if I'm a receiver I want to catch the ball and run with it. No? Isn't that the whole idea?

So let's give T.O. another chance. He's communicating with Cowboys QB Drew Bledsoe during practice. Things are looking up. Let's keep our fingers crossed and see how the coming season goes.

Fur Coats In a Heat Wave

Yes, it's extremely hot for them, too. For the second day in a row we have hit 95 degrees.

Sometimes they hide out under the deck, but mostly they just wander off to find a cool spot after breakfast. If I could bring them inside I would. But they are strays and they don't let me get too close to them. Very skittish, and I don't know why. I would never harm them but I guess their mommas' pep talks against man have paid off.

These two photos were taken at the evening feeding time right outside our sliding doors. They know we watch them, and have become used to us being there behind the glass doors. But as soon as I slide the door open, many of them scatter. Some are more scared than others.

For those of you that have critters outside, PLEASE see that they always have a fresh supply of water at all times. And keep them out of the sun.

(You can see them better if you click on the photos. Especially the bottom one, where Bear is looking into the camera. She and her 3 siblings ~ Gizmo, Wolf, and Trucker Red ~ are longhairs, so I guess they mind the heat even more so.)

Morsels From The Newspaper

Poor Mel Gibson...Nope, I'm not touching this one with a ten foot pole. See me next week when the pole length might change. I could make a comment of my own, but I shall refrain for now.

Morning After Pill ~ I think I'll sit on the fence on this issue also. One thing I do think is that it shouldn't be used like an aspirin just to make something go away.

The heat ~ Today is supposed to hit 100 or better. As I type this, it is 94 degrees. Our grass is very green yet. We do have a lot of dew in the mornings, plus all the thunderstorms we have had lately have helped keep it green.

Fidel Castro ~ The "man" has turned over power to his brother. I hear the Miami community is so ready to party hearty when he's finally gone for good. Despots like him never did the world any good. Why can't these so-called leaders be nice. Maybe then they 'd get the respect they sorely crave.

Cell phones in school ~ Totally unnecessary. Leave them at the main desk and pick them up when you leave the school building. They're okay for emergencies and communication between parents and child, but too many kids abuse cell phones beyond belief.

Pennsylvania Lottery ~ Sales reached a record $3.07 billion in 2005-06, so why haven't our seniors benefited? Why must people who no longer have children in school pay school taxes anyway? Especially seniors. That is so ridiculous and to me it's just wrong. I think seniors should not have to pay school taxes.

Tour de France winner Floyd Landis ~ guilty or not guilty? I'll wait till the final verdict is in on this one.


So there you have it. My musings while reading this morning's local newspaper.

This Really Ticks Me Off

What the hell is up with our Pledge of Allegiance?

The possibility of certain judges trying to stop its usage in schools because of the phrase "under God" really yanks my chain.

I don't care who you pray to or who your Supreme Being is, when it comes down to it they are all one and the same. A god is a god, no matter what you call it.

And to the parents of those children who don't want them saying that phrase...it's only two words and NO ONE is forcing them to say any of the Pledge.

We've been reciting that since 1954 when "under God" was added. I would hope that it is still being spoken after I'm gone. I just wish these nay-sayers would get over it and move on with their lives. This country was built on prayers, church, a God etc. and anyone who doesn't like it now, well they can just go back to where they came from. In other words, if you don't like it, leave it. I'm sure you can find another country you can bully with your stupid inane thoughts and ideas. Just leave ours the hell alone.

The Pledge of Allegiance is for school children to honor the American flag. And the "under God," if you want to get picky, can mean any god. Fill in your own blank. And for God's sake isn't there enough bickering going on around the world? Why must we, as a nation, bicker over something so trite, just like schoolchildren?

I just wish they would stop messing with the beliefs that we older folk were raised on in this country.

I Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself

(This came to me via an e-mail the other day. I pasted it here verbatim. I realize al-Zarqawi has since been blown to smithereens ~ and it couldn't happen to a nicer fella ~ but I kept that part in anyway.)


The lady who wrote this letter is Pam Foster of Pamela Foster and Associates in Atlanta. She's been in business since 1980 doing Interior design and home planning. She recently wrote the following Letter to a family member serving in Iraq ...... Check it out!

WHAT'S ALL OF THE FUSS?

Are we fighting a war on terror or aren't we? Was it or was it not started by Islamic people who brought it to our shores on September 11, 2001?

Were people from all over the world, mostly Americans, not brutally murdered that day, in downtown Manhattan, across the Potomac from our nation's capitol and in a field in Pennsylvania? Did nearly three thousand men, women and children die a horrible, burning or crushing death that day, or didn't they?

And I'm supposed to care that a copy of the Koran was "desecrated" when an overworked American soldier kicked it or got it wet? Well,I don't. I don't care at all.

I'll start caring when Osama bin Laden turns himself in and repents for incinerating all those innocent people on 9/11.

I'll care about the Koran when the fanatics in the Middle East start caring about the Holy Bible, the mere possession of which is a crime in Saudi Arabia.

I'll care when Abu Musab al-Zarqawi tells the world he is sorry for hacking off Nick Berg's head while Berg screamed through his gurgling, slashed throat.

I'll care when the cowardly so-called "insurgents" in Iraq come out and fight like men instead of disrespecting their own religion by hiding in mosques.

I'll care when the mindless zealots who blow themselves up in search of nirvana care about the innocent children within range of their suicide bombs.

I'll care when the American media stops pretending that their First Amendment liberties are somehow derived from international law instead of the United States Constitution's Bill of Rights.

In the meantime, when I hear a story about a brave Marine roughing up an Iraqi terrorist to obtain information, know this:
I don't care.

When I see a fuzzy photo of a pile of naked Iraqi prisoners who have been humiliated in what amounts to a college hazing incident, rest assured that I don't care.

When I see a wounded terrorist get shot in the head when he is told not to move because he might be booby-trapped, you can take it to the bank that I don't care.

When I hear that a prisoner, who was issued a Koran and a prayer mat, and fed "special" food that is paid for by my tax dollars, is complaining that his holy book is being "mishandled,"
You can absolutely believe in your heart of hearts that I don't care.

And oh, by the way, I've noticed that sometimes it's spelled "Koran" and other times "Quran." Well, Jimmy Crack Corn and ---- you got it, I DON'T CARE!

Unwelcome Familiarity

I would like to share a letter to the editor with y'all that was in my local newspaper recently. It certainly brought a big smile to my face, not only because it's how I felt all my life, but because it's also the truth:

Just what are people in the medical field, and others, thinking? I am 74 years old. I am not senile, nor am I an infant. Therefore, when you speak to me, if you are not Paul Newman or Richard Gere, please don't call me "honey," "dear," or "sweetheart." Call me "Mrs. ***."

*** Name withheld to protect the innocent.

Nothing irritates me more than to be called any one of those names by anyone other than my husband. (And just so you know, I am not anywhere near that woman's age.)

Of course, it would be either Johnny Depp or Antonio Banderas that I would also allow to call me endearing names...

A girl can dream, can't she?

Is Tony Stewart...

...the next voice of other NASCAR drivers?

It seems lately that when a driver of lesser experience runs into him or performs a squeeze play, Tony will lash out with his car or his finger. The sport definitely needs someone like him. It has been sorely missed since Dale Earnhardt ruled the roost. Back then when Dale spoke or did something on the track, it meant something. Everyone took notice. The media, the fans, NASCAR and more importantly, the drivers themselves. And they respected him for it. But this post isn't about Dale, it's about Tony...

I have always liked Tony. And I believe if Junior weren't racing, then my number one driver would probably be Tony. I know there are plenty NASCAR fans out there that don't like him and that's their problem. All he is looking for is respect folks. And the younger, newer drivers just haven't grasped that aspect of racing...yet. Sooner or later they will get it. Sad thing is, when they do there is a whole new crop and the cycle starts all over again.

A light will go and they will realize they're not in a sprint race, that they have to use their heads and race smart; use their head instead of hiding behind their car and using it as a battering ram.

Some of these new drivers come into Cup thinking they're going to ride all over the other drivers and win, win, win. Sure, some will. The majority won't. And they are the ones that cause the most problems. Too eager. Too aggressive. Too much in a hurry to make a name for themselves in Cup. And the older veterans are in harms way because of them. And it's those veterans that have to show the kids how to do it. How to have patience. How to drive smart. But, you know what? Some of them just don't care. And that's a shame. They have so much talent...and they just don't care.

So, yes, we need more Tonys to help show them the way, however it's done. If NASCAR can't do it, then let the veterans show the hot shots any which way they can. I am so tired of everyone trying to be politically correct on the track. Let's go back to the racing we used to know when Dale Earnhardt was still around. When racing was racing and not Romper Room.

The Little Grass Hut

The only survivor of a shipwreck was
washed up on a small, uninhabited island.
He prayed feverishly for GOD to rescue
him, and everyday he scanned the horizon
for help, but none seemed forthcoming.

Exhausted, he eventually managed to
build a little hut out of driftwood
to protect himself from the elements
and to store his few possessions.

One day, after scavenging for food, he
arrived home to find his little hut in
flames with smoke rolling up to the sky.
The worst had happened! Everything was lost!
He was stunned with disbelief, grief, and anger.
"GOD, how could you do this to me?" he cried.

Early the next day he was awakened by
the sound of a ship that was approaching
the island. It had come to rescue him.
"How did you know I was here?" asked
the weary man of his rescuers.
"We saw your smoke signal," they replied.

Moral of the story: It's easy to get discouraged when
things are going bad, but we shouldn't lose heart,
because GOD is at work in our lives, even
in the midst of pain, and suffering.

Remember that, the next time your little hut seems
to be burning to the ground. It just may be a smoke
signal that summons the grace of GOD.

Sometimes I Wonder

When I was a kid, I couldn't get enough of corn on the cob. I continued to eat it as an adult. However, there came the day when I had to go on a serious diet and learned that corn was not a part of that diet.

To stop eating it I told myself that corn is fed to pigs to fatten them up and also there is no nutritional value in it. Oh, and that it comes out the same way it goes in ~ pretty much anyway. So what's the point in eating it other than it tastes good. Most forbidden foods do. That's not fair.

It's been at least 25 years since I've eaten any type of corn, much less corn on the cob. So when my husband brought home ten cobs of corn the other night I was taken aback. See, he's not allowed to eat it due to a past bout with diverticulitis.

Following is our conversation about this corn:

Me: Why did you bring this corn home?

Him: So you could eat it.

Me: Have you ever seen me eat corn anywhere, anytime, ever?

Him: No.

Me: Well didn't you think there was a reason for that?

Him: No, what?

Me: That I don't eat it.

So he took it to work the next day and gave it to someone.

Common sense tells one that if someones doesn't eat a particular food there is a reason for that. And he and I have had the discussion about why I don't eat corn many times. So, yeah, I was a little hurt that he brought corn home.

It almost reminded me of the caveman days when the big hunter would bring home the evening meal, drop it at his mate's feet, and expect her to skin it, cook it, and then burp him on top of all that. I don't play that game.

And I am still trying to figure out why the hell he did in the first place!

My Beanie Baby Collection

This photo shows a very tiny portion. These are all bears as is the majority of my collection.

I can't tell you when or why I started collecting them, but I can tell you when I stopped: June 1st a year ago. The day I lost my job. I was looking for an excuse to stop buying them but I was so addicted that no excuse was strong enough. So when that happened my mind was made up for me. Beanie Babies are not expensive. However, every month a new batch comes out. I was signed up at a local pharmacy gift center and whenever the new ones came in they would give me a call. Sometimes there would only be one bear, other times as many as five or more bears, and I always bought every different bear they had.

And when I discovered the international bears on eBay (they were only available through a second market), that's when the costs really went up. And then there was the TY Store where that was the only place you could buy certain Beanies. And I did. Every time there was a bear introduced I would order it. There were other non-bear Beanies that I bought too. Oh, and I also subscribed to Beanie Of The Month, where they would send a different special Beanie every month. So you can see I was way out of hand. Not to mention that I stopped putting them in those plastic cases not only because they also cost money, but because I was running out of room. So I put them in their own little plastic bag and then into a larger tote. Not just one tote mind you. Many totes.

Since I stopped collecting, my interest in them has fallen way off. And now I just don't know what to do with them. Not only are they taking up room they are also just sitting here doing nothing. Maybe one day I'll think of something. Hopefully before I get too old to care.

I Have What Syndrome?

Those of my regular readers know that I have an older brother and a younger sister. That makes me *drum roll please* the...middle...child.

And yes, I have suffered from Middle Child Syndrome. I suppose most of it was in my mind though.

My brother was born first. That made him the first child, the first grandchild, plus he was a boy which made it twice as bad.

Two and a half years later along came me. Ho hum...just another baby. I can say, however, that I was "Daddy's girl." Not to mention that I was now the baby of the family...for five and a half years at least, until my sister was born.

No longer the baby and now the dreaded middle child.

Let me explain why I feel the middle child gets gypped. (This only works for a three-child family, I think.)

The first born gets all the attention. All their "firsts" are played up. They can do no wrong. Grandparents dote on them. When the second child comes along, the parents feel they've "been there, done that." Yawn. Ho hum. The last child then becomes the baby and by this time the parents are usually in a better position financially, so they can afford to do more for that child.

That is how I felt growing up. I'm not saying that's the way it was; rather, I am saying that's the way it felt.

Now that I'm older and look back, it was kind of silly to feel that way. My parents never liked one child over another. Well, maybe my sister got away with a lot more than us two older kids, but...she was the baby.

Patience Please

Having huge computer problems. Trying to work them out with server. Was not able to get on all day Thursday and most of Friday morning. Things are looking better. I was not able to connect to the internet. My morning was spent talking to several people. Once I uninstalled McAfee's firewall, everything seemed to be better. This is not the first time McAfee has given me a problem. Guess I should know better by now. I spent all of yesterday troubleshooting every possible outlet (without the use of the internet). Ack! I don't need this. I am a person who likes to have everything work when it's supposed to...forever. I know, in my dreams. So just be patient. I mean, it was me that hit MY head, not this dang computer, but it acted like it got beaten by someone or something.

This Is Nothing New

In my local newspaper last week there appeared this headline: Survey: 1 in 5 Workers Admits Lifting Office Supplies.

Oh puh-leeze! This has been going on for longer than anyone cares to remember. Yes, I believe just about everyone does it, so that makes it more than 1 in 5. Some people do it knowing full well that they are stealing but they don't see it that way ~ or they justify it somehow. Some people do it inadvertently and probably unknowingly. How is that you ask? I'm so glad you did.

A few paper clips here, a pen there, markers, a roll of tape and it soon leads to bigger things. A desk? Hardly. Just kidding with that one. Seriously, I think pens are the most popular. You use it all day and somehow it travels home with you. The next day, after having left the other one at home, it now must be replaced. Perfectly innocent.

Now I ask you, how is small-time office supply theft any different from the bosses who use a company car for personal travel or errands? Now that's huge compared to a few pens. The sad thing is they don't see it that way. But they are the first one to blame an office worker of theft. Go figure.

The article talked about taking a ream of paper. Now that's outright theft. Not to mention how they snuck it out in the first place.

I'm now gone from my job over a year. Yes, I have a few pens but they have the company logo on them. The same pens that are given to customers. No theft there. I also have a nice supply of "used" printer paper. But I had to work hard for that supply. Every time the printer spit something out, the first page was blank. Almost everyone would set them aside, in a pile, and we all took turns taking the used paper home.

So I sit here thinking this phenomenon goes on everywhere on a daily basis. They certainly don't need a survey to ascertain that it does indeed happen.

And if a company has a high theft rate of office supplies, then they should keep them under lock and key and not have them so readily available to the light-fingered Louie's of the world.

This 'n' That

My thoughts on Sunday's race are few. For the most part I thought it was a tad boring. Junior started 25th and by lap 110 he was leading. And did so for the next 27 laps. He was enjoying himself tremendously because he found a neat way which involved rim-riding. I was getting a kick out of him because he was having so much fun. He finished fifth and still holds third in the points. I'm happy with that.

What I wasn't happy with was how the so-called winner of the race got the lead at the end. What he did was totally uncalled for and all I can say is one word: retaliation. I know there are a lot of people that think otherwise, calling it a "racing deal." But in my mind's eye I recall seeing Gordon shoving Kenseth in the past which took place when they were both out of their cars. Gordon could have passed Kenseth clean (there was plenty room to do so), but like the whining little girl that he is, he chose the coward's way. And I have this to say to him:



On another note...welcome aboard Juan Pablo Montoya. He'll be driving the #42 Texaco Havoline Ford for Chip Ganassi in 2007. Once his stint in the F-1 series is over in October, he will "go to work" to learn all he can about driving a stockcar.

************************************************

Sorry I wasn't around much last week but D was on vacation and was sick two days, we had a lot to do around the house, plus my fall early in the week ~ well...that's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

The good news is D's back to work and I'm back on my schedule. You didn't think I was gonna let you off that easy, now did you?

Should Have Had A 5th On The 4th

I know, I know...I don't drink booze. However, after what happened to me I think it would have dulled the pain. I'm still a hurtin' puppy.

We decided to try and do the deck. Hauled out the pressure washer and all the other necessary things to do what we wanted to do. My husband even went to the store in the morning and picked up a can of white paint so he could finally paint the portion over the top of our patio doors at the peak below the roof.

I decided I was finally going to try and clean the resin chairs that were stacked and kept on the deck for, oh I think it's around a year and half. Never used them, but darn they were stacked neatly in two stacks all that time. Two white chairs, 4 beige chairs. I used a patio furniture cleaner specifically for resin type furniture. After doing one I mentioned that I was just going to have to toss them out. What a joke trying to clean them. Then we decided maybe we could buy paint that they make for that type furniture. So I set all those chairs aside. Just a tad disgusted at that point.

D was going to paint the peak first, so he laid out the tarp. It didn't take long for the storm to move in. I swear it waited till we got that far. I've never seen clouds swirl like those did. Black and ominous and carrying on like the dickens.

Meanwhile D decided to try and pressure wash the chairs that I worked so hard to get clean but didn't. And guess what...they look like new! But he got my kitchen window wet and misty and that bothered me so I went inside for the Windex and some paper towels. My kitchen window is my window to the world. That is where I watch the cats and kittens and all their antics.

The window is right above our slanted steel double doors that lead to the basement. It was wet and I was barefoot. I slowly walked up and did the window, turned around and ever so slowly I deliberately slid down. I almost made it too. At the bottom was some mud, slimy and slippery. When my feet hit that they went out from under me, my butt hit next and my head bounced off the steel doors so hard that my sunglasses flew behind me. I sat there awhile. D asked me if I was alright. Well who can tell when something like that happens. I thought I cracked my head open. I was so mad I went inside and took a shower, washed my hair and read some of the book I am currently reading.

That was Tuesday, the 4th. The next day EVERYTHING hurt like a bugger. I could hardly walk. But I expect I will be okay in the long run. It takes a lot more than that to keep me down.

And the deck never did get done. We will try and do that sometime today. If I can keep myself on two feet, that is.

Two Down & One To Go

We will be staying home today and will attempt to pressure wash and then paint our deck. I say attempt because there is a possibility of rain. But my husband promised it will get done before he goes back to work next Monday.

We finally saw Cars last night. Cute movie. Junior "appeared" twice as the voice for the 8 car and again during the credits. I adore Owen Wilson, the voice of Lightening McQueen. I especially loved the part where Mater takes Lightening to do some "cow tipping" which isn't really cows, but I don't want to spoil it for those of you who haven't seen the movie yet.
Oh, and another cute part: when the Piston Cup was mentioned, Mater said "He did what in a cup?"

We are going to try and see Pirates of The Caribbean, Dead Man's Chest this weekend. I have been salivating ever since I heard about it last year. Johnny Depp...another one of my fantasies. I'll just let it go at that.

Have a good one and enjoy your day.

Has It Been A Year Already?

When I first started this blog a year ago, I had no idea where I was going with it or how long it would last. My first posts, for quite awhile, were full of anger because I had been "left go" at a job I held for 13 years. I was so hurt by what the new manager did, that I started this blog and lashed out the only way I knew how: with words directed at him and certain co-workers.

Eventually I deleted the worst ones. Some remain. But I still believe in what I had written back then. When I deleted them I felt like I had truly let myself down. It took me a full year to finally let go of that anger, which I did on June 1st of this year. That was my one year anniversary of termination. I figured it was time.

When I first started blogging, my posts were quite short. I really didn't know what I was doing, but just as I do today I tried my best back then.

I also questioned myself quite regularly.

I was my worst critic.

I still am.

I think I've come a long way since those first weeks, but know one thing for sure: I always tell the truth. That's the one thing about me that you can take to the bank, as they say.

Congratulations Dale Jr on your Busch Series win tonight!

Daytona Musings

How's that for the photo of the decade? Wouldn't you be proud to call him your son? I know I would.

I haven't written much about NASCAR lately because the last couple races weren't much to write home about ~ they literally sucked.

Budweiser's running a Red Alert game where they assign you a driver along with what the action will be for that driver. Who did I get? Ryan Newman, and his action is that he would be the points leader at the end of the upcoming race. Yeah, right! When the cows come home walking backwards. I was hoping I would have gotten something to do with Junior. No such luck. Well, at least there's always next week and the weeks after that. It's a fun game, no harm done.

I look forward to Daytona because it is an exciting track. It's also a night race which makes it even better. It's a track synonymous with the name Earnhardt and I hope Junebug does well. I always say, before each of his races, that a top ten would be nice, a top five nicer yet, and a win would be a plus. I also ask that there be no DNFs (did not finish for you non-NASCAR readers.)

In the past I've written some derogatory things about Hendrick and his drivers. I'm still not a fan and I am at a point where only three NASCAR-ites drive me to want to drink. Only wine, my people, only wine. Those three are Rick "The Cheater" Hendrick, Jimmie "I am so full of myself" Johnson, and Chad "Bad Boy" Knaus. I also am not a big fan of Jack Roush either. And I think it's because he has so many teams which to me is very selfish. Although I did say a few prayers years ago when his plane went down into water and he almost drowned. What was I thinking? No, that's not nice. Forget I said that. Not.

I also am not a Jeff Gordon fan, but I was glad to see him win last week at Sonoma and equally glad that the little runt got engaged. Good for him. He does look like a munchkin alongside Ingrid though, don't you think?

For now, I will let my thoughts as they are. They might just change after this weekend depending on the outcome of the race...

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Question: Johnny Benson, a Craftsman series truck driver, had LASIK-type eye surgery done a few years ago. So why is he back to wearing glasses again? Anybody know?

I Used To Be A Smoker...

...till my husband had a heart attack. And the only reason I started was to learn how to inhale so I could try the marijuana someone had given me. Turned out I was too chicken sh*t to smoke them. But I kept smoking regular cigarettes anyway.

I would say I smoked for about fifteen years give or take a year or two. And then came that fateful day...the day my husband ended up in the hospital with a heart attack. He was in the hospital for seven days. Seven very long days for me. Obviously he would not be allowed to smoke anymore as that is what the doctors say caused his attack.

So I had those seven days to smoke my brains out before I quit too. My reason for quitting was twofold: 1) I certainly didn't want to be smoking in front of him as he had been a smoker all his life from the age of twelve (I did not want to tempt him), and 2) it just wasn't healthy.

I had my last cigarette when I left to bring him home from the hospital. Cold turkey. And I haven't had one since. Neither has he. It will be seven years in August.
'

No Means No

When I send for information I don't expect or want a phone call. Lord knows I had to deal with enough of them where I last worked. Rather, all I want to do once the information arrives in my mailbox is look it over at my leisure. I want to be able to make up my mind without any pressure. If I don't like what I see, it gets tossed in the trash. Simple as that. Really. Really?

She came to the house. My husband answered the door, not knowing who she was or what she wanted. I kind of figured out who she was. How? She had knocked on the door the day before and I refused to answer. I don't open the door to strangers when I am home alone.

When she and my husband were finished talking at the door she left. He handed me her business card. I recognized the company and tossed the card in the trash. And I forgot about it.

The next day the phone rang. Caller ID told me it was her. I left the machine pick up, as I usually do with those types of calls. She called the next day. Same thing. And again the next day.

How desperate is a company when they send someone to the house and then have them make numerous follow-up calls?

Just a note here: I never give out my phone number when requesting information but I am a member of this organization so they had my number on file. Anyway, I think she finally got the hint that I am not interested in what she was selling. I haven't heard from her for over a week. And I hope it stays that way. Sales people are on my list right up there with telephones. I can do without them.

The Calm Before The Storm

I love these two pictures. I shot them almost a month ago...

...but right now the sky is nowhere near what shows in these pictures. Some nasty weather is moving in ever so slowly.

I might have to get the canoe out. Now where did I put those paddles? Oh well, up sh*t creek again without paddles.

I Hate This Freakin' Commercial

This is what I hear and it sends me into quite a tizzy...

Head On, apply directly to the forehead!
Head On, apply directly to the forehead!
Head On, apply directly to the forehead!

Why, oh why, do they have to repeat it three, count them, three times! It's enough to make a grown woman cry. Don't they think we hear it the first time? Isn't once enough? Not to mention that the woman's voice is like fingernails on a blackboard. Yuck.

Just who are these yokels sitting on Madison Avenue dreaming up this crap? I would like to take their product and poke their eyes out with it. Enough already!

The funny thing is, the product is for headaches. Just listening to that commercial gives me a headache.

Some of these commercials today make me feel like I just crawled out from under a rock. Like I have no intelligence whatsoever. Well, guess what folks...I love my mute button. It's almost worn out.

Summer Solstice

Today is the longest day of the year. Everything from here on in is all downhill. They also say that this is officially the first day of summer.

The days will get shorter until we reach December 21st. That is the shortest day of the year and that is called the Winter Solstice.

I never understood why this time of the year is considered the beginning of summer. By this time, here in the northeast where I live, summer is one third over already. It should start on Memorial Day.

Speaking of that holiday...every Memorial Day my mother used to say "soon we'll be celebrating the Fourth of July and before you know it Labor Day will be here and summer will be over." It never failed. I used to get bummed hearing her say that. But she was right. Summer always flew by and it goes faster every year.

I love summer. I think I could handle this weather all year 'round. I think. I like the other seasons too but I really think summer should last longer than winter does. I think winter lasts way too long.

Food For Thought...And Eating Too

Saturday afternoon we went to a local church festival. We go every year ~ actually, my husband goes just for the food. It's the ethnic food on which he was raised. He's half Russian by way of his mother. Her people came from the Ukraine.

I'm German/Welsh, so our choices of foods were quite different when we first met. Since then, however, we have compromised and now we have diversified our taste in food.

My husband ate the following: halupke (like a stuffed pepper but rolled in cabbage instead), haluski (noodles and cabbage), pierogi (I think most of you know what those are thanks to Mrs. T's Pierogies and others in the supermarkets), belenies (potato pancakes), pulled pork on a Kaiser roll, and he topped it all off with ice cream and waffles.

We arrived an hour before the tickets for the food were being sold, so there weren't many people there yet. But you could smell the food cookling everywhere.


This was to be our dinner and I was very hungry as I hadn't eaten since breakfast. It was about 4:30 when I finally settled for coffee. We found seats under a tree near the tent where music was being played. By 5:00 food was being served. I sat, my husband bought and brought the food to me and so on and so on. I trained him well, wouldn't you say?

Once we were finished eating, we walked around. These horses and carriage were taking folks for rides around the premises.


At 7:00 a local well-known band that plays country music finally gave a much-needed concert. I had heard a lot about them over the years but never saw them in person. I gave them an A plus. They formed the band in 1979 specifically to sing the songs of Conway Twitty. And with Conway's permission they used his name as part of their name.


We didn't stay for the entire concert because I knew I had a bunch of cats and kittens getting mighty hungry back home. They are used to getting fed at certain times and it was getting late.

Oh Poop!

Blogger will not cooperate and let me post pictures here today. I am about ready to kick them to the curb with this issue. I sent an e-mail of complaint. What do they do? They send back a standard-issue reply telling me to do the things I already have been doing. Besides the fact that I know it works, it's just not working now! And that really upsets me. I expect things to work when they're supposed to work. In this day and age with all this damn technology floating around, why do things like this happen? Yes, I am ranting and raving. Yes, I am pissed off. And I had better stop now before I let myself get too far out of hand. Hopefully I can have something with pictures for tomorrow. But I won't hold my breath. My life is getting short enough without having to do that.

Meet Gizmo

This is Gizmo. She reminded me of the movie about gremlins and that's why she has that name. She has two sisters that look like her but have very little orange coloring on their face; their names are Bear and Wolfie. The other sibling is called Trucker Red and that one looks nothing like Gizmo.

Growing Up In New York

(I first posted this last August and I felt it should be revisited)

Oh how I miss my summers in New York! Entire summers. Every year.
My siblings and I stayed with our aunt and uncle. First it was on 80th Street in East Manhattan. Then they bought a home on Long Island. I remember Floral Park NY and Flushing NY in particular. But Manhattan was the best.

Opening fire hydrants and cooling off till the cops came. Pink rubber balls (we'd each get one every year). Sitting on the stoops at night (and everyone was friendly).
Playing on the roof of the highrise they lived in. Wonderful magical moments.

I miss Coney Island Amusement Park and those wonderful hot dogs--I believe they were Nathan's. My favorite ride was the Wonder Wheel when the car swung out over the ocean. When you're little it seems so much worse.

We went to Jones Beach alot. And Central Park. And the Bronx Zoo. Sweet memories. Except the time I got a "hole in my head" from a kid who was above me on the bars and put his foot on my head. He stepped down without looking. I remember that like it was just yesterday. The scar is still there.

When we were older we went to The Worlds Fair. At one time we also drove all the way out to Montauk Point just to see what it was like that far out.

Nothing today comes close to the magic of childhood so I will hold those memories very close to me.

Like my husband always says: "Your heart is in New York but your a** is in PA."

Awwwwww, Aren't They Cute?

"Don't worry, mommy, I'll protect him...he's my little brother."

"Hi!"


There are 3 of these little guys and we call them the triplets. Small, Medium and Large. I so want to scoop them up but they belong to their mommy right now.

When I first took these pictures, they had their backs to me just as it is posted. After I snapped the picture they turned around. Little hams.

Damn Lucky

This is a followup to my post yesterday on Big Ben. His injuries consist of a broken upper and lower jaw, the loss of two teeth, a broken nose, broken facial bones and various cuts and bruises. Oh, and don't forget the concussion.

All those injuries were above his shoulders. Imagine, if you will, that he was wearing a helmet at the time of his accident. He may have been able to walk away unscathed. On the other hand, he could have died! Or he could have ended up in a chair.

Now...here's the best part: he was driving on an expired temporary permit to ride motorcycles. That's two strikes. Yes, I would say he was damn lucky. It just wasn't his time to go...

Life Is Full Of Choices...

...if only we all knew enough to make the right ones. When I first read on a fellow blogger's post yesterday what happened to Ben Roethlisberger, the 24-year-old quarterback for the Pittsburgh Steelers, I was horrified.


As I thought about what he must have gone through, I also thought it could have been so much less severe had he made a better choice.

The helmet law in Pennsylvania was repealed back in 2004 after being on the books for 35 years. At that time I couldn't understand why it was changed. I still don't understand it. When we see bikers without helmets we refer to them as "heroes." (We are being sarcastic)

You may feel better without a helmet, you may see and hear better without a helmet, but it is truly ludicrous not to wear one. I personally will not get on anyone's bike without my helmet. Neither will my husband. We value what few brains we have left to risk scrambling them any further than what they already are.

Ben received a broken jaw and nose, perhaps a small price to pay for not wearing a helmet. (He hit the windshield of the car that hit him first and then bounced his head off the pavement.) He could have been, and may be, a lot worse off. The final analysis is not in yet. Whether he plays football again remains to be seen also.

By opting not to wear a helmet, he made a bad choice. People...he's only 24 years old! Was it worth the risk? I totally think not.

I pray for his complete healing and I also pray he makes better choices in the future as a result of what happened to him. I can only hope, if he chooses to continue riding during his career, that he will wear a helmet.

Bits 'n' Pieces

OK, I tried three times to bring a photo from my album for posting here and it didn't work. I thought Blogger was fixing that problem. It is so frustrating. Sometimes the photo will pop up in less than a minute and other times it takes forever. But this time...nothing. I'm glad I don't have to pay for this blog.

We met a woman at our local grocery store on Saturday who feeds stray cats like we have been doing. We talked to her for quite some time, in the pet food aisle of course. She was thrilled to find others like her who share a love for strays. She is involved with a place that picks up strays, neuters or spays them, and then returns them to where they found them, with the owners' permission of course. I don't know all the details because I didn't ask. I felt as long as our cats and kittens stay here on this side of the road, we would be OK. But they don't. And Saturday morning we had a harsh lesson. One of the older kittens became road kill sometime during the night. I wish I could build a huge fence all around our property so they would be safe from the idiots on the road. And the sad thing is, a lot of drivers aim for animals no matter what it is. Hopefully God will deal with them when the time comes for that. However, it doesn't make me feel any better.

About yesterday's race at Pocono? I really don't have too much to say about it. I was glad to see rookie Denny Hamlin win it. He deserved to win. I also was relieved to see Jeff Gordon climb out of his car after a horrific crash. I'm not a fan of his, but I don't wish harm on any of the drivers. Junior was doing good all day till the end, when his crew made an adjustment on his car that wasn't suitable. And that's all I am going to say about that. This race is over and we move on to Michigan. I can't wait to see the paint scheme on his car ~ it will honor both his grandfather and his father.

Yesterday was full moon; no wonder everything went wrong. I just knew there had to be a reason. I am still upset that I can't post photos. They make life more interesting. But...Blogger is being ignorant...again.

It's Finally Over!

Settlement on my parents' house was last September. A lot of loose ends had to be tied up since then. I finally received my inheritance this week. And I don't have to pay taxes on it. That was done before it was split amongst my other two siblings and myself. It's been a long road from way back then to now.

And yes, there was a lot of blood, sweat and tears.

Blood: From all the bumps, cuts, dings and bruises of moving things here and there, not to mention things that had to be fixed. My husband incurred the most because he was the carpenter.

Sweat: Most of the work on the house was done last summer. It was hot and the work was hard. There was a basement, first floor, second floor and an attic. So there was a lot of stair climbing ~ constantly. From the attic, down the stairs to the second floor, down the stairs to the first floor, and out the door to the back porch. That's where we put most of the smaller things so we could sort through them. What nobody wanted either went to charity or got burned. More sweating. I have never sweated that much in my entire life. I had strength I never knew existed. Especially when I moved a mattress down an L-shaped staircase. Everyone else was outside and I didn't have the patience to wait for anyone.

Tears: Shed by all, as this indeed was the final goodbye to two wonderful parents. Mom, dad...we all love you and miss you, and even though the house and contents are "gone," we will never forget it and all the wonderful times we had while we lived there. It was one great ride!

And so I wrap up another chapter in my life. This one started when my Dad passed away in December 2004 and Mom went 2-1/2 months later. They named me executrix in their will and with that the fun was to begin. Did I say fun? I have gone through every emotion known to mankind and probably some that haven't even been discovered yet. If that's possible. But it's now over and done with, and life goes on for the rest of us.

Early Memories

The first eight years of my life were spent in what we called "the country." Neighbors weren't on top of our house, our property was huge with a creek running through, my school only had 2 rooms, we had to travel a good distance for groceries into the "city", and also our relatives lived far away. It seemed they did anyway. I loved it all. I spent many a day in the woods, by the creek, communing with nature. Pure heaven.

My parents rented that property. We did not have a bathtub. Us kids washed in a tin tub, made for that purpose and it was portable. Water came from a well. We had to pump for it. No indoor plumbing. Rather, we did our business in an outhouse. Ah, the good old days.

The village we lived in was called Indianland. No Indians, that's just what it was called. My Dad worked at the Bethlehem Steel plant. He was a machinist. Eventually he decided it was time to move on and buy a house. He also wanted to be closer to his work, and civilization I suppose. But with three kids ages 2-1/2, 8 and 10-1/2 years old, he was also looking out for us in the way of better schools, church etc.

And so it was, one day in October way back when, we moved to our new house.

The new school had a room for each grade with a different teacher for each grade. The old two-room schoolhouse we had attended only had two teachers for eight grades. It was located right up the road a piece, in Cherryville.

Another big change was that we had neighbors with kids our ages and they were within a short walking distance. We could see their houses from our house. One particular family had twin girls the same age as me. We formed a quick friendship and became a threesome all over the neighborhood. But it was not to last long. Shortly after we moved there, one of the twins was killed on the highway that ran in front of the elementary school. I don't remember the circumstances, but I do remember I was so devastated. I had lost a very close friend.

I was always shy, so for me to form such a strong bond at that age was nothing short of a miracle. The twin that died was closer to me than her sister. We were inseparable.

So now when I look back to that particular time of my life, I wonder if that may have formed me as a person as to how I became later in life: I can count on one hand the close friendships I had and have with three fingers left over.

Some Nice Words for My Driver

I read some mighty nice words recently and I would like to share them with you:

The reason for Dale Earnhardt Jr's popularity ~ win or lose ~ is no mystery. Old-time fans of the father transferred their loyalty to the son. New fans are drawn to his edgy rock 'n' roll persona...

Most of all, Junior's genuine, free of pretense and guile and unsullied by fortune and fame.

He is a genuinely good guy, a humble celebrity who worked tirelessly to get where he is and ~ unlike so many famous sports figures ~ wise enough to appreciate what he's got.

This was written by Larry Woody for The National Tennessean.

Now maybe some of you can understand why I chose to stand behind this young man, Dale Earnhardt Jr. He does me proud. Very proud. And, by the way, that is his boxer Killer with him in the photo above.

**********************************************************

Now, about Sunday's race...

First of all I was very happy that Junior finished tenth. He moved into fourth place in the points, and as I have been saying all along, it's about the "big picture." He doesn't have to win every race to get into the Chase. His consistency seems to be paying off. He is happy with what he and the team are doing and that makes me happy.

There was one thing about that race that really, really perturbed me. How in the hell does that Johnson fella keep falling in sh*t and come out smelling like a rose? I just do not understand it at all, and it really pisses me off. OK, I have to settle down because my language is getting out of hand. Sorry about that. But really...I thought we would gain some ground on him today what with starting in the back and then going a lap down, and then WOW! going two laps down. But alas and alack he somehow overcame everything and wound up sixth. At least we didn't have to listen to one of his monotone victory speeches. I swear he stands in front of a mirror and practices ~ all day long. Oh Jimmie puh-leeze spare me your theatrics.

One Year Of Freedom

It's been a year since I have worked for "the man." All my life I have always worked for someone else, lining their pockets with money (not to mention Uncle Sam and his hands held out), helping other companies to be better and all the while wishing it were the other way around. But if you're not born with a silver spoon in your mouth, forget it. You have to work for what you want. And work I did. The only time I took off from working a job is when I had my daughter and I gave her 100% of my time for the first three years of her life.

I suppose I could have tried to do better but I never had the incentive, or the balls, or even thought that I was smart enough to start my own company. Doing what? That was the problem. No, I sat back and left the world go by. My choice at the time.

That's neither here nor there now ~ it just doesn't matter anymore. I no longer work for someone else. And I have never felt better!

I've had a whole year to look back on those days, especially the last job I held. When I first started working there things were so peaceful. It was just me, the terminal manager and an assistant to the terminal manager. Eventually more people were added to the payroll. Within six years the company moved to another town. What used to take me 3 minutes to drive to suddenly became 30 minutes. I wasn't going to move with the company, but the terminal manager talked me into it promising me I no longer had to type bills or answer the phone. My hours were changed so that I would be starting my job earlier and leaving earlier. And I took the bait. I thought that terminal manager would be there until I was ready to retire. Not. He was terminated. His replacement acknowledged my job specifications and things were still good.

Fast forward through yet another terminal manager and on to the one that is currently there. Not a pretty picture. He decided it was high time that I started answering the phones. Like I was fresh out of high school. What the hell is wrong with people these days that they think someone like me, who has been working longer than they have been living, should be relegated to doing menial jobs? And to me answering the phone was a menial job.

Sorry, I didn't mean to get so sidetracked. I guess I am still not over the reasons for my no longer being there. I had hoped that after a year the ugliness would disappear and I would feel better. (You'd have to see the man that left me go to understand and appreciate that last sentence.)

Luckily for me I saw the writing on the wall weeks before it happened. And so, little by little, I started cleaning out my files, drawers, everything I could take home that was mine. I stripped my Dale Jr pictures off the file cabinet. I stripped my bulletin board of everything that wasn't company related. And so, on that fateful day of June 1st a year ago, I was ready. All I had to do was gather up my purse and totebag and leave that god-forsaken place. Good riddance, I said as I breathed a sigh of relief.

Looking back on those days, the only thing I miss is the daily routine. I don't miss the long drive and I resented having to get up so dang early to drive in the dark that long. I resented sitting at my desk all day (including eating my lunch at the desk). I resented having to answer inane phone calls, acting like I really knew what I was talking about when it was a customer service call. Ugh! I also resented having to drive home in the dark at times only to come home and have a few hours of peace and then climb into bed knowing what was coming the next day. More of the same sh*t.

Just writing about all this depresses me. I really hadn't planned on such a long post, but I've had a year to think about this day. And I am glad to be out of that hell hole of a prison.

Looking back I realize one thing: I should have kept my enemies closer. But, damn, there were so many it was just too hard to keep track as they came and left. So I silently ripped their lips off, poked their eyes out, pulled out their tongues...well, you get the picture.

So now that this first year is behind me, I think it is best that I let go of what was and dig into what can be. Wish me luck.