Usually when I am sitting and doing my homework, I listen to Pandora on the computer. Today, I created a new station because I wanted to hear a certain song and they never played the song that I created the station from but they played many others. As I sat and concentrated on my Algebra, songs kept coming on that stirred many memories.
Isn't it funny how a song that plays during or after something major in your life suddenly becomes part of that memory. It's at times like these that those memories can come flooding in. Some songs you might remember from a concert. Others you might remember from a fight with a significant other. Or maybe you remember a special song that was played at your wedding. Music plays an important part in our lives.
Songs can make you cry, make you smile or sometimes they just make you think.
Music comes in many types from classical to metal. Needless to say, I don't care much for either. I remember playing classical music on the piano during recitals and I never really cared for it. I have only in the last 10 years started to listen to classic rock and a smidge of hip hop. I can't stand metal or whatever that head banging stuff is that you can't understand what they're saying. I'm mostly a country music girl. So most of my memories are tied to country songs. Though I do remember playing name that tune with a previous boyfriend on classic rock.
Music is played at graduation. It's played at weddings. It's played at funerals and it's played at almost every celebration in between. It makes me wonder what we would do without music.
I played music to my boys when I was carrying them. It's common practice to play music to babies when they are upset. Sometimes you leave a radio on for your pets.
Music is soothing. Music is lively. Music is what it needs to be for whatever moment we need it.
We can dance to it. We can cry to it. We can walk to it. We can run to it. We can chill out to it. We can play it at night and let it put us to sleep.
I'm just glad we have it.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Memories
Memory: An active system that receives information from the senses, puts that information into a usable form, and organizes it as it stores it away, and then retrieves the information from storage.
Have you ever had someone or something from your past that you put away deep in your mind and then one day you stumble upon it and you take it out and start looking at it? You hold it tight and try to remember why you put it away. You try to remember everything that it meant to you. You may imagine you smell be it cologne, a place you visited, a dish you cooked or any number of smells that could be associated with that memory. You close your eyes and vividly see the picture your mind paints of various moments. Like a slide show behind your eyelids, the movie plays. Various moments, like a PowerPoint presentation, come spinning up to be replaced by the next. You are so deep into this memory you can feel certain things. The brush of a hand, the warmth of an embrace, the feelings you thought were long gone come bubbling forth like molten lava spewing from the top of the mountain.
This happens ever so often to me. A friend that I had long ago, comes tumbling back into my mind like a tumbleweed across the Kansas prairie. I dust off all those old memories and recall each moment as if they were happening now, not 13 or 14 years ago or more.
Why do they come? Where do they come from? What triggers these happenings?
I used to believe that I had ESP when I was little. My grandma seems to have had it. At times I have seemed to have had it. I had an aunt once that when she got divorced from my uncle I seemed to have a sixth sense about when she would be in town. Days later we would find out that she had been there. So now, when I have a memory that comes tumbling out of the corner of my mind, I like to believe that the person I am remembering is remembering me too. I know that sounds really corny but I'm really pretty sentimental.
A few days ago, I had a memory come spinning out of nowhere. Are they thinking of me? Did they happen to stumble upon my blog? Do they remember the same memories that I hold dear? Do they know in their heart how much I miss them?
As I set and look through my memories. I dust them off and put them back. I know that in a few days that these memories will be pushed again to the back of my mind. Life will go on. But I will always have the memories we made. Maybe someday our paths will cross again. Maybe someday there will be new memories. Until then, I will cherish what I have now.
Have you ever had someone or something from your past that you put away deep in your mind and then one day you stumble upon it and you take it out and start looking at it? You hold it tight and try to remember why you put it away. You try to remember everything that it meant to you. You may imagine you smell be it cologne, a place you visited, a dish you cooked or any number of smells that could be associated with that memory. You close your eyes and vividly see the picture your mind paints of various moments. Like a slide show behind your eyelids, the movie plays. Various moments, like a PowerPoint presentation, come spinning up to be replaced by the next. You are so deep into this memory you can feel certain things. The brush of a hand, the warmth of an embrace, the feelings you thought were long gone come bubbling forth like molten lava spewing from the top of the mountain.
This happens ever so often to me. A friend that I had long ago, comes tumbling back into my mind like a tumbleweed across the Kansas prairie. I dust off all those old memories and recall each moment as if they were happening now, not 13 or 14 years ago or more.
Why do they come? Where do they come from? What triggers these happenings?
I used to believe that I had ESP when I was little. My grandma seems to have had it. At times I have seemed to have had it. I had an aunt once that when she got divorced from my uncle I seemed to have a sixth sense about when she would be in town. Days later we would find out that she had been there. So now, when I have a memory that comes tumbling out of the corner of my mind, I like to believe that the person I am remembering is remembering me too. I know that sounds really corny but I'm really pretty sentimental.
A few days ago, I had a memory come spinning out of nowhere. Are they thinking of me? Did they happen to stumble upon my blog? Do they remember the same memories that I hold dear? Do they know in their heart how much I miss them?
As I set and look through my memories. I dust them off and put them back. I know that in a few days that these memories will be pushed again to the back of my mind. Life will go on. But I will always have the memories we made. Maybe someday our paths will cross again. Maybe someday there will be new memories. Until then, I will cherish what I have now.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
I hate computers
FINALLY!!!
I wasn't sure that I was ever going to be on the internet again this weekend.
I have a new laptop. I have dsl. So you may wonder why I would be having problems. Well, that has been my question most of the day. It had something to do with that stupid antivirus program of mine. Seems that the antivirus caught a virus. It is quite upsetting considering that I pay out the wazoo for security and evidently my security needs security.
I am pretty computer savvy and after a day in front of it not accomplishing what I want. I'm ready to get out of this corner but I wanted to write to.
To vent. To release all this pent up frustration.
Now I'm going to go take my frustration out somewhere else. Sounds like the dryer is calling my name.
Toodles.
I wasn't sure that I was ever going to be on the internet again this weekend.
I have a new laptop. I have dsl. So you may wonder why I would be having problems. Well, that has been my question most of the day. It had something to do with that stupid antivirus program of mine. Seems that the antivirus caught a virus. It is quite upsetting considering that I pay out the wazoo for security and evidently my security needs security.
I am pretty computer savvy and after a day in front of it not accomplishing what I want. I'm ready to get out of this corner but I wanted to write to.
To vent. To release all this pent up frustration.
Now I'm going to go take my frustration out somewhere else. Sounds like the dryer is calling my name.
Toodles.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Truck Drivers
I said in a recent post that I could write a whole post on truck drivers. Well, I can. I lived the life opposite a truck driver for 13 years. I still kind of do, he does still drive it's just not his full time occupation. He's the truck driver by title but he's kind of a jack of all trades when he's not driving.
Truck drivers come in all sizes, all cultures, all religions, all differing degrees of intelligence. When you say the words truck driver most people conjure up a redneck sort of fellow, not of high intelligence, not concerned with cleanliness, maybe even with tobacco juice running down his chin. When I see a truck driver interviewed on the local news, I think to myself, "Oh my God, did they have to find the most unintelligent form of life to talk to or did the smart fellows just refuse to be on camera?"
Truck drivers are a different breed and inside that breed you have many branches. You have dump truck drivers. My experience with them is that they are the party crowd. They run their butts off during the day and stay up most of the night drinking. Most of them, close the bar down and then sleep in their trucks. They are fun loving and sometimes not the most work brittle.
You have long haul drivers of all sorts. Some pull reefers (garbage haulers), some pull vans(billboards, bedbuggers), some are flatbedders and some pull transports (parking lots).
I, personally, have only had to deal with flatbedders. I dispatched for a brief stint a couple years ago. I had my husband and then I helped with 3 other flatbedders and a van driver. I found that women truck drivers are sort of mental. They want to play head games all the time and they do love to cause a stir. Maybe it's just being out on the road alone, I don't know but I can't deal with their drama I found that out very quickly.
The men, well I found that they are big babies. They whine because you find them a load and it's not what they want. They whine because you find them what they want but it's not paying as much as they want. They whine because you find them one paying what they want, hauling what they want but it's not going where they want. Now, don't forget, these drivers also want to be home at certain times, they want to sleep and you have to know how they are logging this trip so you know if they have enough hours to get to the next town to pick up the next load. Don't ever send one to south or west Texas unless you already have a back haul, either. It's also best to have at least a week planned out and you better hope that at no time does a load fall through. It's a damned if you do, damned if you don't world. Dispatching is a thankless job and I give kudos to anyone that does it successfully.
Truck drivers also have families. It's a rough job being a family of a truck driver, too. If you're the wife, you get to raise the kids by yourself. You discipline, you cook, you clean and then when dad pulls in he's the hero. If you have a baby, dad is most usually on your crap list by the time he leaves because he has messed the babies schedule up and you have to spend the next few days after he leaves getting back on schedule just to do it all over again when he comes back home. When you are the primary disciplinarian you also are the "bad" parent because when dad comes home the children get away with all the things you have disciplined them for because dad doesn't want to look like the bad guy.
My mother in law was such a pain when my husband was driving. I heard constantly, "Don't you worry about him having a bad accident while he's out there? I worry about him all the time." She never like my reply of, "If I spent my time worrying about him then they would have to lock me in a padded room. So no, I don't worry about him." Being I knew that he was in a vehicle bigger than most on the road and that I'm a firm believer in "if it's your time, then it's your time and there is nothing you or anyone else can do about it" I didn't and still don't worry about those things. Our lives our in God's hands and that's just the way I look at it.
Truck drivers for the most part are really good guys. Like any occupation you have your jerks. There is always going to be somebody that will "cheat". I never worried about that though. If I did I wouldn't have had much faith in my marriage and so I wouldn't have had much of a marriage. There is always going to be somebody that will steal. There is always going to be somebody that will lie. There is always going to be somebody that is just a dead beat and not worth the air they breathe. BUT, there is always a flip side that by far outnumbers the others.
Truck drivers have to process so much of what is going on around them. They are said to process more information per second than any other driver on the road. A driver has to be able to process what is going on around him, what is happening inside his truck and with his truck, and what is happening with his load constantly. A truck driver doesn't get to drive down the road and sight see. I found this out on the few trips I went along on. "I've drove this road a hundred times and I never noticed that until you pointed it out." was a common thing I heard on my trips.
A truck driver has a hard life. He spends his time in the cab of a truck and unless he has a "house on wheels" then he doesn't have the luxury of home cooked meals. Most drivers eat at the buffet in the truck stops or anywhere that has truck parking. So eating healthy is not usually an option. Three meals a day is not an option because if you're out there to make money you don't have time to stop for three meals.
Sleep deprivation is also a common problem. Even with the 10 hour rule, drivers are sleep deprived. Loads have to be delivered in a timely manner and most have appointment times.
Studies suggest that the risks of cancer, heart attacks, and other disorders may be associated with aspects of long-haul driving such as loading and unloading cargo, irregular schedules, long hours of driving, a sedentary lifestyle, and the nature of drivers' food choices on the road.
In the thirteen years my husband has been on the road, I have heard him say on three different instances that they found "so-and-so" dead in his truck. When he called the first time to me this, it was his trainer from Maverick that they had found. He called me when he worked for TP and they had found a young driver that had suffered a heart attack after unloading. During his last job, he called to tell me that they found a driver dead in the shower. He had suffered a massive heart attack.
Injuries happen galore in flatbedding. Our best friend fell off his load not to long ago and suffered a minor concussion and some back and arm injuries. Steve has slipped on numerous occasions but thankfully never fallen. Throwing those tarps are a injury waiting to happen, especially in windy conditions. Just getting them on top of a load is act of congress.
Truck drivers are the backbone of this country. Look around you. There is probably not many things that you can see that a truck driver didn't haul.
Truck drivers are not unintelligent people either. My husband has ran into doctors and lawyers that gave up their careers to be truck drivers. A doctor that he had dinner with one time told him that the malpractice insurance had gotten so outrageous that he had given up his practice because he couldn't make a decent living. Steve has met people with PhD's, Bachelor's degrees, you name it.
Many drivers have been through my house for dinner over the years. If Steve was passing through, I always cooked dinner for him and whomever he happened to be running with. I've learned heard many a story and met people from all walks of life. Many bikers, a circus driver, a bull rider all turned truck drivers.
Something Steve said to me the other day really hit home. He was talking about staying gone overnight now compared to being gone on the truck. He said now when he's gone he has a bed to sleep in, whether it's at a motel or at one of the job houses, he gets a good meal and he gets to go to bed at 9 or 10 o'clock and get up at 6. On the truck he would have a sandwich out of the fridge, watch a little tv, then sleep a couple hours and go on. If he overslept he had to drive like hell to make up time and hope that he could still get unloaded at a decent time to make his next pickup. The stress was so much more. Coming home now means getting in his pickup and driving 5 miles. Coming home then meant driving with or without load on his trailer for hundreds of miles unless he was lucky enough to get a load to Springfield, getting in at all hours of the day or night spending a day or two trying to get everything done that had to be done to the truck before he left and trying to squeeze in family time on the side.
Truck drivers have one of the most underpaid, under appreciated jobs on the road. Think about this next time you see one driving down the road and appreciate it when you crawl between your sheets at night and put your head on your fluffy pillow. And when you hear one outside your window in the middle of the night, say a little prayer for that driver that he makes it where he's going. I'm sure he or she will appreciate it.
Truck drivers come in all sizes, all cultures, all religions, all differing degrees of intelligence. When you say the words truck driver most people conjure up a redneck sort of fellow, not of high intelligence, not concerned with cleanliness, maybe even with tobacco juice running down his chin. When I see a truck driver interviewed on the local news, I think to myself, "Oh my God, did they have to find the most unintelligent form of life to talk to or did the smart fellows just refuse to be on camera?"
Truck drivers are a different breed and inside that breed you have many branches. You have dump truck drivers. My experience with them is that they are the party crowd. They run their butts off during the day and stay up most of the night drinking. Most of them, close the bar down and then sleep in their trucks. They are fun loving and sometimes not the most work brittle.
You have long haul drivers of all sorts. Some pull reefers (garbage haulers), some pull vans(billboards, bedbuggers), some are flatbedders and some pull transports (parking lots).
I, personally, have only had to deal with flatbedders. I dispatched for a brief stint a couple years ago. I had my husband and then I helped with 3 other flatbedders and a van driver. I found that women truck drivers are sort of mental. They want to play head games all the time and they do love to cause a stir. Maybe it's just being out on the road alone, I don't know but I can't deal with their drama I found that out very quickly.
The men, well I found that they are big babies. They whine because you find them a load and it's not what they want. They whine because you find them what they want but it's not paying as much as they want. They whine because you find them one paying what they want, hauling what they want but it's not going where they want. Now, don't forget, these drivers also want to be home at certain times, they want to sleep and you have to know how they are logging this trip so you know if they have enough hours to get to the next town to pick up the next load. Don't ever send one to south or west Texas unless you already have a back haul, either. It's also best to have at least a week planned out and you better hope that at no time does a load fall through. It's a damned if you do, damned if you don't world. Dispatching is a thankless job and I give kudos to anyone that does it successfully.
Truck drivers also have families. It's a rough job being a family of a truck driver, too. If you're the wife, you get to raise the kids by yourself. You discipline, you cook, you clean and then when dad pulls in he's the hero. If you have a baby, dad is most usually on your crap list by the time he leaves because he has messed the babies schedule up and you have to spend the next few days after he leaves getting back on schedule just to do it all over again when he comes back home. When you are the primary disciplinarian you also are the "bad" parent because when dad comes home the children get away with all the things you have disciplined them for because dad doesn't want to look like the bad guy.
My mother in law was such a pain when my husband was driving. I heard constantly, "Don't you worry about him having a bad accident while he's out there? I worry about him all the time." She never like my reply of, "If I spent my time worrying about him then they would have to lock me in a padded room. So no, I don't worry about him." Being I knew that he was in a vehicle bigger than most on the road and that I'm a firm believer in "if it's your time, then it's your time and there is nothing you or anyone else can do about it" I didn't and still don't worry about those things. Our lives our in God's hands and that's just the way I look at it.
Truck drivers for the most part are really good guys. Like any occupation you have your jerks. There is always going to be somebody that will "cheat". I never worried about that though. If I did I wouldn't have had much faith in my marriage and so I wouldn't have had much of a marriage. There is always going to be somebody that will steal. There is always going to be somebody that will lie. There is always going to be somebody that is just a dead beat and not worth the air they breathe. BUT, there is always a flip side that by far outnumbers the others.
Truck drivers have to process so much of what is going on around them. They are said to process more information per second than any other driver on the road. A driver has to be able to process what is going on around him, what is happening inside his truck and with his truck, and what is happening with his load constantly. A truck driver doesn't get to drive down the road and sight see. I found this out on the few trips I went along on. "I've drove this road a hundred times and I never noticed that until you pointed it out." was a common thing I heard on my trips.
A truck driver has a hard life. He spends his time in the cab of a truck and unless he has a "house on wheels" then he doesn't have the luxury of home cooked meals. Most drivers eat at the buffet in the truck stops or anywhere that has truck parking. So eating healthy is not usually an option. Three meals a day is not an option because if you're out there to make money you don't have time to stop for three meals.
Sleep deprivation is also a common problem. Even with the 10 hour rule, drivers are sleep deprived. Loads have to be delivered in a timely manner and most have appointment times.
Studies suggest that the risks of cancer, heart attacks, and other disorders may be associated with aspects of long-haul driving such as loading and unloading cargo, irregular schedules, long hours of driving, a sedentary lifestyle, and the nature of drivers' food choices on the road.
In the thirteen years my husband has been on the road, I have heard him say on three different instances that they found "so-and-so" dead in his truck. When he called the first time to me this, it was his trainer from Maverick that they had found. He called me when he worked for TP and they had found a young driver that had suffered a heart attack after unloading. During his last job, he called to tell me that they found a driver dead in the shower. He had suffered a massive heart attack.
Injuries happen galore in flatbedding. Our best friend fell off his load not to long ago and suffered a minor concussion and some back and arm injuries. Steve has slipped on numerous occasions but thankfully never fallen. Throwing those tarps are a injury waiting to happen, especially in windy conditions. Just getting them on top of a load is act of congress.
Truck drivers are the backbone of this country. Look around you. There is probably not many things that you can see that a truck driver didn't haul.
Truck drivers are not unintelligent people either. My husband has ran into doctors and lawyers that gave up their careers to be truck drivers. A doctor that he had dinner with one time told him that the malpractice insurance had gotten so outrageous that he had given up his practice because he couldn't make a decent living. Steve has met people with PhD's, Bachelor's degrees, you name it.
Many drivers have been through my house for dinner over the years. If Steve was passing through, I always cooked dinner for him and whomever he happened to be running with. I've learned heard many a story and met people from all walks of life. Many bikers, a circus driver, a bull rider all turned truck drivers.
Something Steve said to me the other day really hit home. He was talking about staying gone overnight now compared to being gone on the truck. He said now when he's gone he has a bed to sleep in, whether it's at a motel or at one of the job houses, he gets a good meal and he gets to go to bed at 9 or 10 o'clock and get up at 6. On the truck he would have a sandwich out of the fridge, watch a little tv, then sleep a couple hours and go on. If he overslept he had to drive like hell to make up time and hope that he could still get unloaded at a decent time to make his next pickup. The stress was so much more. Coming home now means getting in his pickup and driving 5 miles. Coming home then meant driving with or without load on his trailer for hundreds of miles unless he was lucky enough to get a load to Springfield, getting in at all hours of the day or night spending a day or two trying to get everything done that had to be done to the truck before he left and trying to squeeze in family time on the side.
Truck drivers have one of the most underpaid, under appreciated jobs on the road. Think about this next time you see one driving down the road and appreciate it when you crawl between your sheets at night and put your head on your fluffy pillow. And when you hear one outside your window in the middle of the night, say a little prayer for that driver that he makes it where he's going. I'm sure he or she will appreciate it.
Quality Tv
Whatever happened to good, wholesome family shows like The Walton's, Andy Griffin, The Cosby Show, The Beverly Hillbillies, Green Acres and I Love Lucy?
Paden is only 3, well almost 4 in a couple weeks, but recently he has been really aggressive and then suddenly he'll pop out some sexual retort or action. At first, I was just floored. I kept thinking, "Where is he seeing this?" Then Steve pointed out a commercial on early in the evening for a later show that was just to the point of soft porn.
This week I've been watching the cartoons he's watching too. He doesn't seem interested in anything that is actually okay for him to watch. He wants to watch The New Batman, X-Men and that kind of thing. I figured out that's where his aggressiveness comes from. So I've been working on his tv viewing. I've introduced him to Sesame Street, Word Girl, WordWorld, Clifford. He's protested. I haven't given in.
Steve and I have given up prime time tv viewing of NCIS and CSI. We now watch the Ax Men and other things on the History Channel. Steve and I like to watch The Cosby reruns on TVLand. I'm really glad that spring is on the way and it's been nice lately. This allows us to go out in the evenings and not worry about the tv.
Colton on the other hand has discovered the Beverly Hillbillies and is collecting the season epidodes on DVD. He found season three at a pawn shop this weekend and loves watching it.
I know that I'm thankful for TV Land and PBS.
Paden is only 3, well almost 4 in a couple weeks, but recently he has been really aggressive and then suddenly he'll pop out some sexual retort or action. At first, I was just floored. I kept thinking, "Where is he seeing this?" Then Steve pointed out a commercial on early in the evening for a later show that was just to the point of soft porn.
This week I've been watching the cartoons he's watching too. He doesn't seem interested in anything that is actually okay for him to watch. He wants to watch The New Batman, X-Men and that kind of thing. I figured out that's where his aggressiveness comes from. So I've been working on his tv viewing. I've introduced him to Sesame Street, Word Girl, WordWorld, Clifford. He's protested. I haven't given in.
Steve and I have given up prime time tv viewing of NCIS and CSI. We now watch the Ax Men and other things on the History Channel. Steve and I like to watch The Cosby reruns on TVLand. I'm really glad that spring is on the way and it's been nice lately. This allows us to go out in the evenings and not worry about the tv.
Colton on the other hand has discovered the Beverly Hillbillies and is collecting the season epidodes on DVD. He found season three at a pawn shop this weekend and loves watching it.
I know that I'm thankful for TV Land and PBS.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Spring Break=Spring Cleaning
My house has kind of went to the far side the last 8 weeks. I try to keep it picked up but I haven't cleaned it. I started out yesterday morning cleaning my closet. Four boxes and two trash bags later I was finished. Last night Steve decided we should move the bed. We have a small house and my king size bed sits halfway across the window. This makes opening and closing the window extremely hard. With spring upon us, he decided if we turned the bed it would allow us to get to the window, thus allowing us to open and close the window at will to allow the breeze in. So this morning, I started in once again. Who knew people could acquire so much JUNK!!??? I have a saddle on a stand that was my grandpa's favorite saddle. When I worked for PFI, I had this saddle refinished and it has been on a saddle rack in my room ever since. Paden has discovered that you can climb up on it and sit. He has spent the last hour singing his rendition of "Clementine" with an old guitar and my cowboy hat sitting on the saddle in the middle of the kitchen where I have temporarily relocated it.
My and dad had to come over because "Billy Bob Tater" aka, Paden wanted them to see him. We have all been in stitches. It's amazing how when you hear a song you sometimes hear things different than what they are. This is Paden's rendition of Clementine and when I figure out how to upload my video camera I'll put it on hear but until then...
"Ole my Darling, Ole my darling, Ole my darling Clementine you are lost and gone forever and my papa wears underwear number nine." Now, I must say, from my standpoint he sounds a lot like the little boy that played Alfalfa on the Little Rascals, too.
Hope everybody is having a wonderful week! Time to go back to work.
My and dad had to come over because "Billy Bob Tater" aka, Paden wanted them to see him. We have all been in stitches. It's amazing how when you hear a song you sometimes hear things different than what they are. This is Paden's rendition of Clementine and when I figure out how to upload my video camera I'll put it on hear but until then...
"Ole my Darling, Ole my darling, Ole my darling Clementine you are lost and gone forever and my papa wears underwear number nine." Now, I must say, from my standpoint he sounds a lot like the little boy that played Alfalfa on the Little Rascals, too.
Hope everybody is having a wonderful week! Time to go back to work.
Friday, March 13, 2009
What's in my way...
I don't have one particular thing on my mind at the moment. I have a bunch of jumble going on. I think you could compare it to embroidery thread that you just throw the leftovers of skeins in a bag and how they become all twisted and knotted. I have anatomy and where am I going to get cabbage plants for my mother before I head home banging around in my brain. I try to bring the anatomy to the front so that I can focus but it's just not happening. When I open the book to study blank pages look back at me. I'm so confused. Who cares if a bone is intramembranous or endochondral? I guess I should that is what my essay question is about. Cabbage plants. Where in the world do I find cabbage plants in Springfield? Where is a greenhouse? I know this town pretty well and when she called and told me that she had this small little task my brain blanked out. It's just like opening that book with no words on the pages. I think it's on overload. It's shutting down.
I think to everything I want to accomplish on spring break. I'll never get it all done. But it's there. A list that is growing longer and longer. It's starting to be like an adding machine tape. Before long my head will pop open and it will start shooting paper everywhere. I have to get a grip. I have to take a deep breath.
I think to everything I want to accomplish on spring break. I'll never get it all done. But it's there. A list that is growing longer and longer. It's starting to be like an adding machine tape. Before long my head will pop open and it will start shooting paper everywhere. I have to get a grip. I have to take a deep breath.
My night at the Gillioz
"Hey, are we going to go eat before the play tonight?", I asked. The answer I got was less than the desirable one. "We'll have to eat on the road. I don't think we'll have time to go sit down somewhere. Are you ready for your test? Do we need to go to the play tomorrow night?"
That was the phone conversation that played out at around 4 yesterday afternoon. I was supposed to make my mind up what I was going to do. Well, that was pretty easy. My head was starting to spin on my shoulders and I could feel a dull ache in my temporal region. I figured it was best to get up from my corner that I had stayed in almost all day and leave behind the words that were becoming all fuzzy and clustered on the pages.
I made it into the shower at 4:45 and an hour later I was dressed and ready to go. As Steve called his mom to find out where the Gillioz Theatre was, I made a a sashay through the house one last time. It was quiet. I paused in silence at the boys' end of the house. Their rooms both is disarray where Paden had played in them all day. I could only imagine the fit that Colton would throw when he got home and seen how his brother had cluttered his.
As we left, Steve asked where I wanted to eat. My response was, "No McDonald's and no Dairy Queen." He muttered at me that he was hungry and now that had left out eating in town. I told him he still had Hardee's and Sonic, but for me that was less than desirable also. We headed on south, he told me we would find someplace in Springfield. When we got to Bluegrass Road he asked me again where I wanted to eat. We finally settled on Braum's.
We headed on downtown. We drove by the Shrine where a clown was outside waving and greeting the crowd. He looked more like a rodeo clown instead of a circus clown. Parents with children in tow, happily skipping along between mom and dad seemed to come from all directions. As we headed further into the downtown area traffic became lighter. I was the first to spot the lighted marquee of the Gillioz. We circled the block and settled into a parking spot.
The temperature outside was comfortable but cool as we walked hand in hand up the sidewalk. The red doors of the theatre were locked, except for one. As we slipped inside the inner sanctum, we paused for a moment to take in our surroundings. The marble floors echoed beneath our boots as we walked the hallowed hallway. I paused at each picture, studying. Instead of going through the next set of doors we took a left turn towards the elevators and looked at more of the photography hanging on the walls. The "Ghost Train" is now etched in my mind. Though only in black and white, the image of the broken carriage car is burned in my brain. Alongside it hung a couple pictures from the Civil War reenactments. Then, another black and white, a set of hands on a chainlink fence.
Steve and I decided to go through the next set of doors. The marble was now gone beneath our feet replaced by carpeting. The rotunda loomed over our heads. The grand staircase to the second floor seemed to beckon and I fought the urge to explore further. As I cautiously opened the theatre doors, I seen the actors on the stage doing last minute run throughs. As I made my was to the second row, center stage I tried to take in my surroundings. The walls were textured and the lower half was painted a chocolate brown. The upper levels were more of a golden color and the mixture of the two was warm and inviting. The trim around the upper wall was both colors mixed with a rich turquoise. At each side of the stage was ornate details of cherubs and what I seen as flowers. The curtains were black velvety looking with golden fringes.
The stage was awesome. To my right, as I was facing the stage, was a small bar. Zebra print covered the front of the bar. Barstools of chrome and white leather stood tall in front of it. To my left was a small "lip" sofa on a raised platform. The white and orange pod chair with matching ottoman set slightly to my right also. Oranges and vivid reds popped out at me from all directions. Behind me lights were spinning and projecting towards the stage and I felt like I had stepped into the 60's.
I heard from behind me, "10 minutes till the doors open." Actors scurried like mice from the stage. The inflow of the crowd as they came through the doors was like a small wave. Though I have never been to a play, let alone a dress rehearsal I thought it was a decent sized crowd.
The actors came on to the stage in shifts. Acting our pieces here and there to entertain the waiting crowd. I tried to speculate as to who was who. Then the play began. I had a Julia Roberts, "Pretty Woman" moment as I set enthralled by the happenings around me. I couldn't move nor take my eyes from the stage for fear that I might miss something. Steve fidgeted and huffed beside me. I knew he was bored and that he was only doing this for me. At intermission he says, "Are you really liking this?" "Yes." I replied, "very much." He mumbled something about he would try to go with me one more time to a play but he hoped the actors didn't rhyme.
The dress rehearsal went smoothly. Very few times did I notice any mistakes and each time the actor made a smooth recovery. My favorite part of the play was the scene with Orgon's wife and Tartuffe towards the end. I thought it was funny when Orgon had hid in the chair and that Tartuffe was making passes at her and she couldn't get Orgon to come out. At the beginning of the scene, the actress has sprayed perfume on herself. Unlike sitting at a movie theatre, in a few minutes the smell of perfume came wafting out into the crowd. Steve said it reminded him a lot of "Laugh In" when they would come out dancing in between scenes.
At the end, the actors came dancing through the crowd and out the back doors where they received the audience as we left.
Overall, I think it was an awesome play. I may not subject my husband to another play but I will definitely go to another production given an opportunity.
That was the phone conversation that played out at around 4 yesterday afternoon. I was supposed to make my mind up what I was going to do. Well, that was pretty easy. My head was starting to spin on my shoulders and I could feel a dull ache in my temporal region. I figured it was best to get up from my corner that I had stayed in almost all day and leave behind the words that were becoming all fuzzy and clustered on the pages.
I made it into the shower at 4:45 and an hour later I was dressed and ready to go. As Steve called his mom to find out where the Gillioz Theatre was, I made a a sashay through the house one last time. It was quiet. I paused in silence at the boys' end of the house. Their rooms both is disarray where Paden had played in them all day. I could only imagine the fit that Colton would throw when he got home and seen how his brother had cluttered his.
As we left, Steve asked where I wanted to eat. My response was, "No McDonald's and no Dairy Queen." He muttered at me that he was hungry and now that had left out eating in town. I told him he still had Hardee's and Sonic, but for me that was less than desirable also. We headed on south, he told me we would find someplace in Springfield. When we got to Bluegrass Road he asked me again where I wanted to eat. We finally settled on Braum's.
We headed on downtown. We drove by the Shrine where a clown was outside waving and greeting the crowd. He looked more like a rodeo clown instead of a circus clown. Parents with children in tow, happily skipping along between mom and dad seemed to come from all directions. As we headed further into the downtown area traffic became lighter. I was the first to spot the lighted marquee of the Gillioz. We circled the block and settled into a parking spot.
The temperature outside was comfortable but cool as we walked hand in hand up the sidewalk. The red doors of the theatre were locked, except for one. As we slipped inside the inner sanctum, we paused for a moment to take in our surroundings. The marble floors echoed beneath our boots as we walked the hallowed hallway. I paused at each picture, studying. Instead of going through the next set of doors we took a left turn towards the elevators and looked at more of the photography hanging on the walls. The "Ghost Train" is now etched in my mind. Though only in black and white, the image of the broken carriage car is burned in my brain. Alongside it hung a couple pictures from the Civil War reenactments. Then, another black and white, a set of hands on a chainlink fence.
Steve and I decided to go through the next set of doors. The marble was now gone beneath our feet replaced by carpeting. The rotunda loomed over our heads. The grand staircase to the second floor seemed to beckon and I fought the urge to explore further. As I cautiously opened the theatre doors, I seen the actors on the stage doing last minute run throughs. As I made my was to the second row, center stage I tried to take in my surroundings. The walls were textured and the lower half was painted a chocolate brown. The upper levels were more of a golden color and the mixture of the two was warm and inviting. The trim around the upper wall was both colors mixed with a rich turquoise. At each side of the stage was ornate details of cherubs and what I seen as flowers. The curtains were black velvety looking with golden fringes.
The stage was awesome. To my right, as I was facing the stage, was a small bar. Zebra print covered the front of the bar. Barstools of chrome and white leather stood tall in front of it. To my left was a small "lip" sofa on a raised platform. The white and orange pod chair with matching ottoman set slightly to my right also. Oranges and vivid reds popped out at me from all directions. Behind me lights were spinning and projecting towards the stage and I felt like I had stepped into the 60's.
I heard from behind me, "10 minutes till the doors open." Actors scurried like mice from the stage. The inflow of the crowd as they came through the doors was like a small wave. Though I have never been to a play, let alone a dress rehearsal I thought it was a decent sized crowd.
The actors came on to the stage in shifts. Acting our pieces here and there to entertain the waiting crowd. I tried to speculate as to who was who. Then the play began. I had a Julia Roberts, "Pretty Woman" moment as I set enthralled by the happenings around me. I couldn't move nor take my eyes from the stage for fear that I might miss something. Steve fidgeted and huffed beside me. I knew he was bored and that he was only doing this for me. At intermission he says, "Are you really liking this?" "Yes." I replied, "very much." He mumbled something about he would try to go with me one more time to a play but he hoped the actors didn't rhyme.
The dress rehearsal went smoothly. Very few times did I notice any mistakes and each time the actor made a smooth recovery. My favorite part of the play was the scene with Orgon's wife and Tartuffe towards the end. I thought it was funny when Orgon had hid in the chair and that Tartuffe was making passes at her and she couldn't get Orgon to come out. At the beginning of the scene, the actress has sprayed perfume on herself. Unlike sitting at a movie theatre, in a few minutes the smell of perfume came wafting out into the crowd. Steve said it reminded him a lot of "Laugh In" when they would come out dancing in between scenes.
At the end, the actors came dancing through the crowd and out the back doors where they received the audience as we left.
Overall, I think it was an awesome play. I may not subject my husband to another play but I will definitely go to another production given an opportunity.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Just ramblin about horses
When I was a little girl I was totally crazy about horses. My room was full of little horse statues. I had all the Barbie horses, Dallas, Midnight, Dixie and Prancer.
I can remember way back when I was just a little bitty girl, probably one of the first memories I have, was of ole Blue. There really wasn't anything special about him. He was just an old gray horse. Blue was what people call dead broke. You could put anybody on him. Along with ole Blue there was Pepper and Buck.
Pepper was a dark colored horse and he wasn't quiet as broke as Blue but he was still a gentle horse. Buck, on the other hand, had the perfect name. Yes, Buck liked to buck.
I have a couple really funny stories that my grandpa used to tell and one of them was about Buck and me. I guess from the way he used to tell it, I was in diapers when this story happened. Anyway, I toddled out into the pasture with the horses when nobody was looking. Buck was notorious for kicking and when they discovered that I was out with the horses everybody got all out of sorts. Grandpa came out to the gate and yelled at me to get back to the house. Well, I guess I had a mind of my own and it wasn't telling me to go back to the house. Or maybe I just knew I was in trouble and didn't want to go. Either way Buck knew what needed to be done. Everybody held their breath as Buck walked over and bent down and stuck his head against my back. He then proceeded to nudge me all the back to the gate. Once we got to the gate and he knew I was safely on the other side. He trotted off a safe distance than decided to kick.
Then, when I was about 6 we got into the horse business again around our house. My grandpa and my uncle decided to buy the neighbors horses. I know we bought quite a few but I only remember Suzy and Ginger. Ginger was an old horse and she was really gentle. Grandpa decided to sell them but I remember that they kept one of the younger mares which was Suzy. A few weeks later grandpa and my uncle went to an auction that lasts 3 days up north called Four Square Auction. That's when they came home with Bart. So then we had Bart and Suzy. Bart was a black gelding and I used to imagine him being Black Beauty.
Later we had a little mule named Carrot. He pulled my uncle in a two wheeled cart. It was really fun to ride in.
My favorite horse though was Tory. His name was actually Zane Tory's Warrior. He was out of Zane Gray a famous Fox Trotter. Tory was what you called double papered. He was a Missouri Fox Trotter and an American Fox Trotter. Tory was an awesome horse. He was lady broke which means that he was partial to women, or girls. I could do anything with Tory and I did. I was never allowed to ride by myself but I did everything else. I had no fear. I would walk under his belly. I would walk behind him. I would lay all over him. I should mention. that while we had Tory, we also had an Appaloosa named Diablo. Diablo was somewhat of an onery character. He once kicked my grandpa's pocket off his jeans.
Our neighbor had a little mare named Shiloh that we kept for a while. She was a small horse. One day when I was out in the pasture with grandpa I was standing across the fence from her. As quick as a shot, she reached across the fence and tore part of my nose off. See when a horse bites down their jaws lock. I jerked back, of course and she tore the right part of my nose. For the longest time I had an indention on that side of my nose where it healed. I still have a minimal scar on the inside of my nose.
When I got older grandpa decided to get me a horse of my own. He ended up buying me a little mare that wasn't broke. That whole thing was disasterous. Me and her started off okay but it ended not so okay. She realized that Tory and Diablo lived in a pasture on the other side of the barn one day when I had her out and about teaching her to lead. Well, she broke away from me and after grandpa caught her he decided he would have a try at her. Well, she drug him down through the pasture. He looked like a sled being drug behind a sled dog. Bobbing and weaving here and there but he wasn't letting go. I went to the house because I figured he was going to shoot her if he ever got control over her. Instead, he decided she was more of a hassle than she was worth and she got sold.
We had both Tory and Diablo for a few more years and then like usual we got rid of them. I remember the day that my grandpa sold them I stood in the yard and watched him load them. I remember him calling out, "Bug, you want to ride Tory into the trailer." I cried and cried. I wouldn't even go and say goodbye. I stood and the hot, salty tears ran down my face for what seemed like hours. We never had anymore horses after them.
I can remember standing in the yard with every horse that we had and the horses would come up and stick their heads over the fence and I would feed them sugar cubes. There is nothing softer than a horses nose as it feels like velvet against your palm as they take the sugar cube.
When I was about 20, I met a deputy from Christian County. We became good friends and I used to go ride his horses. He had a paint horse named Paint. I loved riding that horse. I always hated galloping because I felt like I was going to fall out of the saddle but I loved to trot and most of all I just liked to meander around. There's something about a horse. Once you get to know your animal you become one with him. I can truly understand why they make good therapy animals.
My feelings for horses changed though recently. I worked at a hospital for about a year. It seemed like this past summer there was so many accidents involving horses. One lady was brought in because she was riding at an arena and her horse got spooked and he threw her. She ended up with a couple broken ribs and a hip fracture. The one that I remember vividly was the three year old little girl. She was brought in for being kicked in the head. She had walked behind the horse and he kicked. Luckily kids are resilient and it was more of a scare and a little laceration. Then we had a boy in his early twenties that was grooming his horse like he had a million times before. The young man walked behind the horse, reached up to curry his hindquarters and lost an ear and most of his teeth and also had some cerebral swelling. Last I had heard they weren't sure he would ever be able to speak correctly again and possibly would have some learning issues due to the damage to his skull.
After this, I came home and announced that I didn't want a horse anymore. I know that horses are just like cars, four wheelers, seadoos or any other thing. You can get hurt just as equally. The thing about cars, four wheelers and such is that it would be my fault. I would either be a lack of attention or just plain stupidity that gets me hurt. A horse, well he has a mind of his own and I can't think for him. A horse, like a dog, is going to sometimes revert back sometimes to those survival genes. So for now, I have made the decision that I will admire horses from the fence or the highway. Maybe someday I will change my mind but for now, I'm going to play it safe.
I can remember way back when I was just a little bitty girl, probably one of the first memories I have, was of ole Blue. There really wasn't anything special about him. He was just an old gray horse. Blue was what people call dead broke. You could put anybody on him. Along with ole Blue there was Pepper and Buck.
Pepper was a dark colored horse and he wasn't quiet as broke as Blue but he was still a gentle horse. Buck, on the other hand, had the perfect name. Yes, Buck liked to buck.
I have a couple really funny stories that my grandpa used to tell and one of them was about Buck and me. I guess from the way he used to tell it, I was in diapers when this story happened. Anyway, I toddled out into the pasture with the horses when nobody was looking. Buck was notorious for kicking and when they discovered that I was out with the horses everybody got all out of sorts. Grandpa came out to the gate and yelled at me to get back to the house. Well, I guess I had a mind of my own and it wasn't telling me to go back to the house. Or maybe I just knew I was in trouble and didn't want to go. Either way Buck knew what needed to be done. Everybody held their breath as Buck walked over and bent down and stuck his head against my back. He then proceeded to nudge me all the back to the gate. Once we got to the gate and he knew I was safely on the other side. He trotted off a safe distance than decided to kick.
Then, when I was about 6 we got into the horse business again around our house. My grandpa and my uncle decided to buy the neighbors horses. I know we bought quite a few but I only remember Suzy and Ginger. Ginger was an old horse and she was really gentle. Grandpa decided to sell them but I remember that they kept one of the younger mares which was Suzy. A few weeks later grandpa and my uncle went to an auction that lasts 3 days up north called Four Square Auction. That's when they came home with Bart. So then we had Bart and Suzy. Bart was a black gelding and I used to imagine him being Black Beauty.
Later we had a little mule named Carrot. He pulled my uncle in a two wheeled cart. It was really fun to ride in.
My favorite horse though was Tory. His name was actually Zane Tory's Warrior. He was out of Zane Gray a famous Fox Trotter. Tory was what you called double papered. He was a Missouri Fox Trotter and an American Fox Trotter. Tory was an awesome horse. He was lady broke which means that he was partial to women, or girls. I could do anything with Tory and I did. I was never allowed to ride by myself but I did everything else. I had no fear. I would walk under his belly. I would walk behind him. I would lay all over him. I should mention. that while we had Tory, we also had an Appaloosa named Diablo. Diablo was somewhat of an onery character. He once kicked my grandpa's pocket off his jeans.
Our neighbor had a little mare named Shiloh that we kept for a while. She was a small horse. One day when I was out in the pasture with grandpa I was standing across the fence from her. As quick as a shot, she reached across the fence and tore part of my nose off. See when a horse bites down their jaws lock. I jerked back, of course and she tore the right part of my nose. For the longest time I had an indention on that side of my nose where it healed. I still have a minimal scar on the inside of my nose.
When I got older grandpa decided to get me a horse of my own. He ended up buying me a little mare that wasn't broke. That whole thing was disasterous. Me and her started off okay but it ended not so okay. She realized that Tory and Diablo lived in a pasture on the other side of the barn one day when I had her out and about teaching her to lead. Well, she broke away from me and after grandpa caught her he decided he would have a try at her. Well, she drug him down through the pasture. He looked like a sled being drug behind a sled dog. Bobbing and weaving here and there but he wasn't letting go. I went to the house because I figured he was going to shoot her if he ever got control over her. Instead, he decided she was more of a hassle than she was worth and she got sold.
We had both Tory and Diablo for a few more years and then like usual we got rid of them. I remember the day that my grandpa sold them I stood in the yard and watched him load them. I remember him calling out, "Bug, you want to ride Tory into the trailer." I cried and cried. I wouldn't even go and say goodbye. I stood and the hot, salty tears ran down my face for what seemed like hours. We never had anymore horses after them.
I can remember standing in the yard with every horse that we had and the horses would come up and stick their heads over the fence and I would feed them sugar cubes. There is nothing softer than a horses nose as it feels like velvet against your palm as they take the sugar cube.
When I was about 20, I met a deputy from Christian County. We became good friends and I used to go ride his horses. He had a paint horse named Paint. I loved riding that horse. I always hated galloping because I felt like I was going to fall out of the saddle but I loved to trot and most of all I just liked to meander around. There's something about a horse. Once you get to know your animal you become one with him. I can truly understand why they make good therapy animals.
My feelings for horses changed though recently. I worked at a hospital for about a year. It seemed like this past summer there was so many accidents involving horses. One lady was brought in because she was riding at an arena and her horse got spooked and he threw her. She ended up with a couple broken ribs and a hip fracture. The one that I remember vividly was the three year old little girl. She was brought in for being kicked in the head. She had walked behind the horse and he kicked. Luckily kids are resilient and it was more of a scare and a little laceration. Then we had a boy in his early twenties that was grooming his horse like he had a million times before. The young man walked behind the horse, reached up to curry his hindquarters and lost an ear and most of his teeth and also had some cerebral swelling. Last I had heard they weren't sure he would ever be able to speak correctly again and possibly would have some learning issues due to the damage to his skull.
After this, I came home and announced that I didn't want a horse anymore. I know that horses are just like cars, four wheelers, seadoos or any other thing. You can get hurt just as equally. The thing about cars, four wheelers and such is that it would be my fault. I would either be a lack of attention or just plain stupidity that gets me hurt. A horse, well he has a mind of his own and I can't think for him. A horse, like a dog, is going to sometimes revert back sometimes to those survival genes. So for now, I have made the decision that I will admire horses from the fence or the highway. Maybe someday I will change my mind but for now, I'm going to play it safe.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Where I'd rather be...
The mo
rning sun has just started its slow rise in the distance. It paints a brilliant picture using bright blues, purples and pinks over the top of the mountains. As I look out the window, I see the pond at the end of the newly green pasture. I can vaguely make out two miniscule black spots at the opposite side. The two black dots seem to be splashing about and I deduce that it must be the two large Shiras Moose that frequent it. 
The Columbine and Goldenrod's seem to be lifting their heads to meet the suns first rays. I can hear the distant bugle of a bull elk as he calls to his herd. It's as if he is telling them to wake up and greet the day.
From above me, I can hear the muffled sound of footsteps. A steady drip, drip, drip can be heard to my right. An aromatic smell drifts through the air on the gentle breeze that comes in the open window.
Beneath my fingers, I feel the cool, smooth tops of the counters. My sweatshirt is soft against my skin and smells April fresh as it envelopes me. My legs crawl with goosebumps as the breeze cools my warm skin.
I reach for the coffee cup that is setting to my right and sip at the hot liquid. It's smooth and bold as it slides past my lips and down my throat leaving a burning trail as it goes. I can taste a hint of chocolate and whipped cream.
Thoughts of the days list of to-do's tumble through my mind. I shove them out as I take in my perfect place to be.
rning sun has just started its slow rise in the distance. It paints a brilliant picture using bright blues, purples and pinks over the top of the mountains. As I look out the window, I see the pond at the end of the newly green pasture. I can vaguely make out two miniscule black spots at the opposite side. The two black dots seem to be splashing about and I deduce that it must be the two large Shiras Moose that frequent it. 
The Columbine and Goldenrod's seem to be lifting their heads to meet the suns first rays. I can hear the distant bugle of a bull elk as he calls to his herd. It's as if he is telling them to wake up and greet the day.
From above me, I can hear the muffled sound of footsteps. A steady drip, drip, drip can be heard to my right. An aromatic smell drifts through the air on the gentle breeze that comes in the open window.
Beneath my fingers, I feel the cool, smooth tops of the counters. My sweatshirt is soft against my skin and smells April fresh as it envelopes me. My legs crawl with goosebumps as the breeze cools my warm skin.
I reach for the coffee cup that is setting to my right and sip at the hot liquid. It's smooth and bold as it slides past my lips and down my throat leaving a burning trail as it goes. I can taste a hint of chocolate and whipped cream.
Thoughts of the days list of to-do's tumble through my mind. I shove them out as I take in my perfect place to be.
Friday, March 6, 2009
What I've Learned as a College Freshman
Yes, I'm a 35 year old college freshman. I have survived my first 6 weeks of school. With midterms upon me, I am looking back at the things I have learned in those 6 weeks from my fellow classmen that are a generation or two behind me.
I've learned that if you're in the age range of 18-25 you don't really need to show up for class because you are already smarter than the teacher. The only days you need to show up are really test days, because evidently at that age you know more than them and they are not going to have anything important to say that you didn't already know.
I've learned that if you have a teacher that wears hearing aids, you sit at the back of the class and make fun of them or talk about your upcoming weekend camping trip and the new tent that you bought in low tones so that the teacher can't make out what you're really saying. You also make fun of the teacher because he doesn't understand what someone says and it makes you look REALLY cool to all the people that sit on the back row with you when you tell him the wrong answer but he thinks you're right and then you blurt out, "It didn't matter he can't hear anyway."
I've learned that if you study real hard and answer questions in class, someone who evidently didn't read and prepare for the chapter and doesn't participate in the class discussion, will inevitably make rude comments because the old, person in the first row always answers the teachers questions. And evidently if that old person, who happens to be between 35 and 40, feels the need to ask a question that they don't understand they have some sort of problem because they are prolonging class.
I've learned that it doesn't matter if you study for tests. It's okay to take the same class four times. And I've learned that you don't want to do ALL the algebra homework because that would be boring.
I've learned that evidently once you hit the ripe old age of 25, you don't have a life anymore. I've also learned that evidently if you make good grades it's because you don't have a life and all you do is study.
I've learned that it's okay to disrespect people. "What are they going to do about it?"
I've learned that my grandma evidently raised me wrong because who says you should be respectful to teachers and the elderly. Why should anyone use "Please", "Thank You", "Excuse Me" or any other such niceties.
I've learned that it's okay to talk back to your teachers. Hey, they wouldn't have a job if you weren't there. (Because evidently if you're the one being pissy to the teacher, you are the ONLY one that matters.)
I've learned that cheating on tests is okay. Using your cell phone in class is okay. Texting the whole time you're in class is okay. (Remember, the teacher has nothing important to say anyway.) It's okay to lie to the teacher when they tell you to quit texting in class. That your fiance sending you pictures of shoes is more important than any lecture and is considered an EMERGENCY because you don't want them wearing Doc Martins with a tux on YOUR wedding day.
I've learned that Algebra is stupid. Because where are you ever going to use this crap again?
I've learned it's okay to leave class early if it's nice outside because you have shopping to do.
I've learned that it's easier to just take the simple way out and do the bare minimum because if you do more than that, than heaven help us, the teacher will start expecting it.
I won't bore anybody with what I have learned that I will actually use in life. I won't tell you that I think some of the kids will never make it in the so called REAL world. I won't tell you that I work hard to achieve what I do on the tests and that I spend every spare minute studying. I won't tell you that I'm looking forward to seeing my first play next week. I won't tell you that I would like to stand up in my Psychology class and give the little asses in the back row a piece of my mind because they sit and make fun of a good teacher. And that some of us, actually have to pay for the education we receive and would like to get the most out of that. I won't tell you that I actually read and prepare for lectures.
I won't tell you that I've learned that my English teacher is madly in love with her husband. Loves her kiddos dearly. Likes to bake, crochet and knit. But denies that she is domestic.
I won't tell you that my Psych teacher likes to do woodworking. That he was a counselor. That the reason he has hearing aids was because he had numerous ear infections as a young child and they didn't put tubes in your ears back then because they did not have the technology.
I won't tell you that my Algebra teacher set on the back row of her class in math and thought she was cool. She was going to be a drama major but instead moved from the back row up to the front where the boy that asked all the questions of the professor became her husband. I won't tell you that my Anatomy teacher has a four year old grandson and a daughter that can't eat fresh vegetables. I've learned he is a history buff, excels in all sciences, was a high school teacher for many years before coming here, and was in love with a girl named Leslie that was his neighbor, a senior when he was a freshman and that she walked on the front line in the high school marching band.
I've learned more in 6 weeks than I ever thought I would and THANK GOD, I'm learning it from a group of teachers that actually care about the kids in their classes and the education they are giving them.
I've learned that if you're in the age range of 18-25 you don't really need to show up for class because you are already smarter than the teacher. The only days you need to show up are really test days, because evidently at that age you know more than them and they are not going to have anything important to say that you didn't already know.
I've learned that if you have a teacher that wears hearing aids, you sit at the back of the class and make fun of them or talk about your upcoming weekend camping trip and the new tent that you bought in low tones so that the teacher can't make out what you're really saying. You also make fun of the teacher because he doesn't understand what someone says and it makes you look REALLY cool to all the people that sit on the back row with you when you tell him the wrong answer but he thinks you're right and then you blurt out, "It didn't matter he can't hear anyway."
I've learned that if you study real hard and answer questions in class, someone who evidently didn't read and prepare for the chapter and doesn't participate in the class discussion, will inevitably make rude comments because the old, person in the first row always answers the teachers questions. And evidently if that old person, who happens to be between 35 and 40, feels the need to ask a question that they don't understand they have some sort of problem because they are prolonging class.
I've learned that it doesn't matter if you study for tests. It's okay to take the same class four times. And I've learned that you don't want to do ALL the algebra homework because that would be boring.
I've learned that evidently once you hit the ripe old age of 25, you don't have a life anymore. I've also learned that evidently if you make good grades it's because you don't have a life and all you do is study.
I've learned that it's okay to disrespect people. "What are they going to do about it?"
I've learned that my grandma evidently raised me wrong because who says you should be respectful to teachers and the elderly. Why should anyone use "Please", "Thank You", "Excuse Me" or any other such niceties.
I've learned that it's okay to talk back to your teachers. Hey, they wouldn't have a job if you weren't there. (Because evidently if you're the one being pissy to the teacher, you are the ONLY one that matters.)
I've learned that cheating on tests is okay. Using your cell phone in class is okay. Texting the whole time you're in class is okay. (Remember, the teacher has nothing important to say anyway.) It's okay to lie to the teacher when they tell you to quit texting in class. That your fiance sending you pictures of shoes is more important than any lecture and is considered an EMERGENCY because you don't want them wearing Doc Martins with a tux on YOUR wedding day.
I've learned that Algebra is stupid. Because where are you ever going to use this crap again?
I've learned it's okay to leave class early if it's nice outside because you have shopping to do.
I've learned that it's easier to just take the simple way out and do the bare minimum because if you do more than that, than heaven help us, the teacher will start expecting it.
I won't bore anybody with what I have learned that I will actually use in life. I won't tell you that I think some of the kids will never make it in the so called REAL world. I won't tell you that I work hard to achieve what I do on the tests and that I spend every spare minute studying. I won't tell you that I'm looking forward to seeing my first play next week. I won't tell you that I would like to stand up in my Psychology class and give the little asses in the back row a piece of my mind because they sit and make fun of a good teacher. And that some of us, actually have to pay for the education we receive and would like to get the most out of that. I won't tell you that I actually read and prepare for lectures.
I won't tell you that I've learned that my English teacher is madly in love with her husband. Loves her kiddos dearly. Likes to bake, crochet and knit. But denies that she is domestic.
I won't tell you that my Psych teacher likes to do woodworking. That he was a counselor. That the reason he has hearing aids was because he had numerous ear infections as a young child and they didn't put tubes in your ears back then because they did not have the technology.
I won't tell you that my Algebra teacher set on the back row of her class in math and thought she was cool. She was going to be a drama major but instead moved from the back row up to the front where the boy that asked all the questions of the professor became her husband. I won't tell you that my Anatomy teacher has a four year old grandson and a daughter that can't eat fresh vegetables. I've learned he is a history buff, excels in all sciences, was a high school teacher for many years before coming here, and was in love with a girl named Leslie that was his neighbor, a senior when he was a freshman and that she walked on the front line in the high school marching band.
I've learned more in 6 weeks than I ever thought I would and THANK GOD, I'm learning it from a group of teachers that actually care about the kids in their classes and the education they are giving them.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
A shopping we will go...
I spent the day shopping. I started off at 9:30 this morning and I got home sometime around 3:00 this afternoon. I had a large dilemma of whether I wanted a new laptop or a monitor for my old desktop. The new laptop won out. I've been moving things since I got home and trying to get my new laptop set up. I bought an HP because I'm not much of a Dell lover. I've had three and I just haven't became a die hard Dell person. I liked the first HP I ever had and if this one is half as good as it, I'll probably be alright with it.
My next stop was the Bass Pro outlet. Now there's a store if I was a lot smaller I could probably spend large amounts of money in. I bought Steve a few new camo shirts that were marked down and I bought me a camo hoodie so I can quit wearing Steve's all the time.
I decided then that I was going to go to a thrift store and so I set out to go find some bargains. PFFT...just my luck I drove out of my way to find it closed for remodeling.
Well, I had already thought of driving to Lebanon to the VF Outlet and so I cruised on down I-44 and went to the outlet mall. I found a humongous ton of bargains and it was well worth the drive. I stocked up on some jeans because they are on sale for $5.97 a pair. The nicer, more dressier pants are on sale for $4.87. Definitely worth the time and the drive if you're needing some jeans.
My drawers and closet will actually have more than t-shirts and scrubs now. This was a very relaxing and uneventful day. I really enjoyed it.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Missing my hubby
It seems odd tonight around the house. I keep waiting to hear the familiar sound of that old truck come pulling in the driveway. Nobody has the television turned to Two and a Half Men. I guess maybe that's why it seems so odd around here. Paden is watching cartoons in the living room instead of what his daddy wants to watch. I don't pay much attention to the tv usually, I just know this is the hour that the bickering usually starts around here and "I can't watch this" reverberates the walls. It was also unusual that at 5:15, Colton didn't make a bee line through the house for the backdoor to tell his dad every detail of his day.
I guess why this has me in such awe is the fact that for 12 years it was just me and the boys. Steve wasn't home but on weekends and this was the norm. Last spring that all shifted and Steve became an actual employee and a regular in his own home. He goes in at 5:30 in the morning comes home at 5:15 every night. On the rare occasion has he been gone overnight. (Well, I guess if you don't count when I had my hysterectomy and he stayed gone all week when I could have used his help at home. He felt really bad that he had to stay out that week but I do love to rub it in when I can.) I guess that's why tonight seems odd and I'm kind of out of sorts. It was a new world when he came off the truck. We hadn't spent so much time together since...Well, since never. We began dating when he started driving over the road and being that I like my independence it couldn't have been a better arrangement.
With sp
ring just around the corner, I know that these nights will become more familiar again. Paden, who is daddy's buddy, hasn't noticed he's not home yet. Colton, who has a 5:15 ritual to meet his dad as soon as he enters the backdoor, has already realized it. It will probably hit Paden when bathtime comes. Being the ripe old age of three, almost four now, he no longer wants mom to help with his baths. That's dad's territory. Mom has become chopped liver around the house lately. I'm basically only needed now if someone is throwing up or it's time to eat. The boys do love their daddy and I'm glad that he finally gets to be one to them.The boys have left the living room and all is quiet. Too quiet I guess. It's not often that the tv is off, and though I can't faintly hear the tv in Colton's room, the silence is almost deafening in here. The only noise I hear is the tapping of my keys on the keyboard and the hum of the refrigerator. I guess, after all these years, I do miss that crazy man when he's not home.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Hmmmm....
Every once in a while you have to set back and just....hmmmm....a situation. I have a friend that is in quite a pickle. I've watched him allow himself to get in this pickle over the years. See, he has a heart of gold. It's not just gold plated it's solid. He'd do anything for someone he cares about and that's why he's in this pickle. I guess that's the difference between us, I would have to look at the long term and weigh the consequences, he just acts in the moment and does.
He's always been there when I've been going through a rough patch and he's tried to make me see the other side of things when I had blinders on and only wanted to look at it from my standpoint. So I just want him to know I'm there for him. I think he knows that.
My friend is in a new relationship, which I hope is everything he wants and more because he deserves that. She seems like a pretty good girl from what I've seen of her. I've only seen her twice and I don't have anything bad to say about her. I'm a pretty good judge of character and I usually draw a conclusion about somebody from the first time I meet them. I don't know if that's fair to people but I seem to be pretty good at knowing if somebody is fake or not. I'm definitely one that is not going to pretent to like someone. If I don't like you, you'll know it. I'm just that way.
The deal with my friend is, he has assumed the role as "caretaker". Up until now, he just went with the flow. The job he has keeps him out on the road. He has never had a reason to come home so he has never really asked a lot to be home. Well, now he has a reason and him coming home falls on deaf ears. My husband worked for the same company for a while but he let them know they wouldn't push him around and keep him out. He's kind of "strange" that way...you know, his family is more important than a job. Well, I know for a fact that the people at this company go home when they have something they want to do and they leave work in the middle of the afternoon if there is something they want to do and it don't matter if 1 or 20 trucks are waiting to get a load. Now lets think about this...would you go home and say to your drivers, "To bad, I have something I want to do and you'll just have to wait til tomorrow and see what I can find."? I dispatched for a while. I couldn't even make my own husband happy let alone a fleet. Truck drivers are "hard to get along with", whiney individuals. Most of them love drama. I think they live for it.
Oh, wait!!! I'm totally getting off of the subject, truckdrivers is a whole other post that I could go on a rant for days about.
Back to my story...
Anyway....because this friend has never really wanted to come home and they know he will not fight back, they are pushing him around and he has been out since Valentine's. That sucks. He didn't even get to spend Valentine's with his new sweetie!!! At this point, it doesn't look like they are trying to get him home this weekend either. And from the last I heard, they are only trying to make it a trip through the house maybe next Monday. Now tell me, if she has a regular job when the hell are they supposed to see each other? So this really pisses me off because I don't like to see nice people that work their ass off get stepped on.
Then you have my friends family. They are a good family. The parents are nice enough. I always thought the dad was a little bit of a dead beat though. I don't know the whole story...it's just my opinion. See, he lets my friend basically support him and his wife. His wife works. He don't. My friend took over the mortgage on the house and makes the house payment, the parents live there. My friend basically supplies them with a vehicle to drive. And when they go on trips they use his credit card to charge on. He don't know what to do about this and his once immaculate credit rating is now ruined. They keep one credit card totally maxed and the tell him, "We're doing the best we can. We pay the minimum." I know that is what most Americans do...Pay the minimum. But lets all get real here. They are never in their lifetime going to pay off the credit card. So who's going to get stuck with this maxed out card. BINGO...my friend.
My friend also has a younger brother that seems to think that his brother should pay for everything for him and co sign for everything for him. And once again, we see that credit rating taking a plummet. His brother got into financial problems and was trying to rob Peter to pay Paul and was using the check cashing thing but oops...he wrote a few checks that he couldn't cover. Who paid him out? Yes, that's right. The brother needed a new car but couldn't get financed? Who co signed for him? Yes, you're right again. He needed to lease an apartment and needed the money plus a co signer, guess who he called? Kudos to you. You're right again. The parents needed a new vehicle? Who co signed? Gosh, you're good at this.
Do you see where this is all going? Well, he asked for my opinion last night. Let's just say when it comes to these matters I have never been the one to be politically correct. I shoot from the hip and if you don't like it you shouldn't have asked. I apologized this morning to him and then went on for another five minutes about what he should do.
I understand trying to help your parents. I'm sure when I get my degree and get my job, if I'm able I will. BUT, I'm an only child. He has TWO brothers. In my eyes, I think they should share the burden. Why should my friend suffer the whole financial burden on his own? The brother, well, I think he just needs to freaking GROW UP!!! Quit living the whole, "Look at me, I'm a bachelor and I live in KC and I go out all the time." He has a flipping college degree let's find a job that it's for and WORK!!!! Give up that nightlife!
OHHHHH...did I say, he also wrecked the car that my friend ended up paying half the payments on and then wasn't going to let him have any of the insurance check PLUS he now has my friends pickup and he doesn't have a vehicle when he comes home now. The only vehicle that he has to drive is his semi or his parents car.
This whole situation has me on this roller coaster. I love my friend dearly and I hate it that he's experiencing it. When I think about the whole thing, I want to shake my friend but at the same time I just have to set back and go....HMMMM.
He's always been there when I've been going through a rough patch and he's tried to make me see the other side of things when I had blinders on and only wanted to look at it from my standpoint. So I just want him to know I'm there for him. I think he knows that.
My friend is in a new relationship, which I hope is everything he wants and more because he deserves that. She seems like a pretty good girl from what I've seen of her. I've only seen her twice and I don't have anything bad to say about her. I'm a pretty good judge of character and I usually draw a conclusion about somebody from the first time I meet them. I don't know if that's fair to people but I seem to be pretty good at knowing if somebody is fake or not. I'm definitely one that is not going to pretent to like someone. If I don't like you, you'll know it. I'm just that way.
The deal with my friend is, he has assumed the role as "caretaker". Up until now, he just went with the flow. The job he has keeps him out on the road. He has never had a reason to come home so he has never really asked a lot to be home. Well, now he has a reason and him coming home falls on deaf ears. My husband worked for the same company for a while but he let them know they wouldn't push him around and keep him out. He's kind of "strange" that way...you know, his family is more important than a job. Well, I know for a fact that the people at this company go home when they have something they want to do and they leave work in the middle of the afternoon if there is something they want to do and it don't matter if 1 or 20 trucks are waiting to get a load. Now lets think about this...would you go home and say to your drivers, "To bad, I have something I want to do and you'll just have to wait til tomorrow and see what I can find."? I dispatched for a while. I couldn't even make my own husband happy let alone a fleet. Truck drivers are "hard to get along with", whiney individuals. Most of them love drama. I think they live for it.
Oh, wait!!! I'm totally getting off of the subject, truckdrivers is a whole other post that I could go on a rant for days about.
Back to my story...
Anyway....because this friend has never really wanted to come home and they know he will not fight back, they are pushing him around and he has been out since Valentine's. That sucks. He didn't even get to spend Valentine's with his new sweetie!!! At this point, it doesn't look like they are trying to get him home this weekend either. And from the last I heard, they are only trying to make it a trip through the house maybe next Monday. Now tell me, if she has a regular job when the hell are they supposed to see each other? So this really pisses me off because I don't like to see nice people that work their ass off get stepped on.
Then you have my friends family. They are a good family. The parents are nice enough. I always thought the dad was a little bit of a dead beat though. I don't know the whole story...it's just my opinion. See, he lets my friend basically support him and his wife. His wife works. He don't. My friend took over the mortgage on the house and makes the house payment, the parents live there. My friend basically supplies them with a vehicle to drive. And when they go on trips they use his credit card to charge on. He don't know what to do about this and his once immaculate credit rating is now ruined. They keep one credit card totally maxed and the tell him, "We're doing the best we can. We pay the minimum." I know that is what most Americans do...Pay the minimum. But lets all get real here. They are never in their lifetime going to pay off the credit card. So who's going to get stuck with this maxed out card. BINGO...my friend.
My friend also has a younger brother that seems to think that his brother should pay for everything for him and co sign for everything for him. And once again, we see that credit rating taking a plummet. His brother got into financial problems and was trying to rob Peter to pay Paul and was using the check cashing thing but oops...he wrote a few checks that he couldn't cover. Who paid him out? Yes, that's right. The brother needed a new car but couldn't get financed? Who co signed for him? Yes, you're right again. He needed to lease an apartment and needed the money plus a co signer, guess who he called? Kudos to you. You're right again. The parents needed a new vehicle? Who co signed? Gosh, you're good at this.
Do you see where this is all going? Well, he asked for my opinion last night. Let's just say when it comes to these matters I have never been the one to be politically correct. I shoot from the hip and if you don't like it you shouldn't have asked. I apologized this morning to him and then went on for another five minutes about what he should do.
I understand trying to help your parents. I'm sure when I get my degree and get my job, if I'm able I will. BUT, I'm an only child. He has TWO brothers. In my eyes, I think they should share the burden. Why should my friend suffer the whole financial burden on his own? The brother, well, I think he just needs to freaking GROW UP!!! Quit living the whole, "Look at me, I'm a bachelor and I live in KC and I go out all the time." He has a flipping college degree let's find a job that it's for and WORK!!!! Give up that nightlife!
OHHHHH...did I say, he also wrecked the car that my friend ended up paying half the payments on and then wasn't going to let him have any of the insurance check PLUS he now has my friends pickup and he doesn't have a vehicle when he comes home now. The only vehicle that he has to drive is his semi or his parents car.
This whole situation has me on this roller coaster. I love my friend dearly and I hate it that he's experiencing it. When I think about the whole thing, I want to shake my friend but at the same time I just have to set back and go....HMMMM.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)