Hi. I know I've been absent for awhile, but you'll have that sometimes, I guess. Hopefully not so much anymore now that I'm coming to you live from my new laptop! (Thanks Santa!!)
Christmas was amazing this year, I got everything on my list AND THEN SOME! And besides that, I spent a lot of quality time with friends and family.
I plan on posting a lot more often. It'll just be easier now that I've got a laptop again. And I've had a few months to thing of some good stuff to say :)
So the last post I left you with was that if something looks too good to be true, it probably is. Here's the story. I fell in love. Completely Swept Off My Feet. Yes, those letters are capitalized for a reason. The only problem with being swept off your feet is it hurts when you fall. Really hurts. My brain is able to rationalize everything and I'm pretty ok with it being over. There were signs, things that just didn't add up quite right- so it's a little easier to be ok with. My heart on the other hand, still just misses him.
When I was a kid I went through this whole Laura Ingalls Wilder phase. I read and re-read all the books and watched the Little House on the Prairie tv show faithfully. I was just into it. So I decided to make home made bread, like the Ingalls had to. Mom bought the yeast, I read the directions so carefully, mixing and kneading, forming the dough. It was winter time, so we had the wood burner going- which was perfect because we put the dough next to it so it could be warm and rise correctly. It smelled so good! When the dough had done its thing and rose properly, I brushed the top with melted butter and put the loaf pans in the oven. 45 minutes later the whole house smelled simply amazing The bread looked fantastic all golden brown and perfect. We had butter and jam set out on the table, ready to spread it on the warm bread. Mom cut the first slice, I buttered it and took a bite. It wasn't good. I took a second bite. Yeah, still not good. How could something that smelled so amazing and looked so perfect be so wrong?
I put 2 tablespoons of salt in the dough instead of 2 teaspoons. So essentially it was doomed from the beginning, I just hadn't realized it yet.
Why did I tell you that story? Because that's pretty much how my relationship with Beau was. It looked perfect, it sounded perfect, but when you got down to it- it just wasn't what it was supposed to be.
The good news about the bread was my grandma's mule, Mike, LOVED it. So I just have to find the man that will love my bread- even though it's not as perfect as it looks. And hopefully this time, he won't be a jackass.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Life Lesson #37
"If it seems to good to be true, it probably is."
My big regret? I didn't keep Match Man #6's phone number...
My big regret? I didn't keep Match Man #6's phone number...
Monday, October 4, 2010
Sowwy
Sowwy I haven't written in two months- I've been a busy girl!! And I can't really get comfortable in front of my desk top computer... my laptop was awesome. I could just lay in bed and write til my hearts content. So hint, hint, nudge, nudge- Best Buy gift cards for Christmas so I can get myself a new laptop!
So here's what's been going on since the beginning of August! Well, I'm going back to the end of July because that's where the story really starts.
Friday July 30: my cousin Serenade and her friends put together a murder mystery dinner- kind of like a live action game of Clue. Very fun. I had been talking to Match.com Man #6. We wanted to get together that weekend, but I had plans Friday and he had plans Saturday. I told him I was going to a dinner party then drinking and playing flip cup. He was like, well where's the party? So I called him and said if you'd like to come, you're more than welcome- HOWEVER- you have to dress up, it's a 40's themed party, and if you have a problem with gay guys, don't show. My cousin has a few gay friends and I didn't want to be the asshole that brought the asshole to the party, ya know? He had no problems, so we met up for a drink before hand (just to make sure he passed the creeper test-he did) then we headed on to the party. We had a blast. He was fun, sweet, good looking- we just really hit it off. Match.com only took 6 tries to find someone I had real hopes for. I couldn't wait to see him again!
Saturday July 31: A few years ago, I needed cash BAD. I had a check to cash, so I headed to Sky bank where I had an account. I did not have my ID so they wouldn't give me cash. ANY cash. Not even let me deposit most of my check and just have $20 "You're still getting cash, aren't you?" was their direct quote. So I pulled all my money (I say that like I had a lot) and went bank hunting. I walked into Home Savings and Loan in Streetsboro said "I hate those bitches at Sky, they made me cry." And it's been great ever since. My favorite banker, Ta-Ta, is only a little bit older than me and we always chit chat when I go in. We've been myspace and facebook friends and have each others numbers, but we've never gone out before. Well when I deposited my check Friday afternoon Ta-Ta was telling me that her brother in law was trying to set her up with this dude who was having a bonfire Saturday night, she wanted to go, but didn't have anyone to go with her. I didn't have plans, so I said, hey, I'll go with you. That was Friday, come Saturday I really wanted to back out. But I already told her I'd go, so I went. And that's where I met the amazing guy that brought me the flowers from the last post on our first date. We've been dating for about 2 months now. It seems like I've known him forever!
Monday August 2: My new Beau took me on our first date, surprised me with the flowers dyed my favorite color, played "Another One Bites the Dust" by Queen- which up til the moment he played it had been my dating anthem, took me to dinner, kicked my butt at putt-putt, then took me to a book store where we each picked out books that meant something to us then swaped them and read each others books. I picked Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawlings, he picked Why We Suck by Denis Leary. 2 months later, he's pretty sure Little Ann and Old Dan are still puppies... maybe someday he'll finish the book and they'll get to grow up. It was the thought that counts!
Tuesday August 3: I called Match Man #6 and told him I had met someone. Beau left for 9 days for work. He works on a drilling rig in Pennsylvania, drilling for natural gas. He usually works 7 days on, 7 days off- but he had to work 9 days because of a mandatory sensitivity training course. FYI the top three most dangerous jobs are 1.) Alsakan Crab Fishing 2.) Coal Mining 3.) Drilling Rigs. Yeah. Awesome.
Friday August 13-Sunday August 15: Camping! 9 of us went down to Mohican River to go camping and tubing, including Beau, Bro, his girl Cutie, my best friend Darla, her boyfriend lets call him Nemo, and some kids we grew up with, JP, Junior and Junior's friend Twin (seriously he looks just like Junior). We had a BLAST Friday night. Everyone got along, no one from the campground bothered us, we were camping by a river with a ton of beer- it was amazing. Saturday we got up and (after an hour detour) went tubing. 6 miles apparently = 4 hours by river. We had beer, we had booze, bring it on! Then about half way through it starts pouring rain, lighting, thunder, wind, the works. Crack open another beer and keep floating. FINALLY we got off the freaking river and headed back to camp. Darla & Nemo's tent was blown over, Jp, Junior & Twins tent was completly flooded, our tent that Beau and I were sharing with Bro and Cutie was half flooded- Bro and Cutie's half. So everyone but Beau and I packed up and headed out that night. We had dry gear, and it had stopped raining so we stuck it out.
Tuesday August 17: The 5th anniversary of my 21st birthday! Beau brought coffee and doughnuts to the shop for me and everyone I worked with. They told me he's a keeper. I said, DUH.
Friday August 20- Sunday August 22: Bubble Gum's Bachelorette Party! We went camping in Presque Isle New York- had a blast. Bubble Gum, Ruby and Ganker lived together in Mantua after high school, during college. I was the un-offical "dude on the couch." We've all been through our ups and downs and all arounds since then. I haven't hung out with all of them in years, so I was a little apprehensive, but we picked up right where we left off. We laughed, drank, ate, talked too much all weekend. Friday we stayed at the campsite and played games and talked, Saturday we tried swimming and laying out but it was overcast and chilly. By 3 it was raining. 2 weekends in a row I went camping and it rained. I was starting to get a complex. We went to the casino Saturday night, none of us really won, but we had a great time. And I saved Bubble Gum's life- she somehow managed to drop her engagement ring and I somehow managed to spot it (I was checking out the floor to see if anyone had dropped any dollars or chips!).
Sunday August 30: Went to a fund raiser Cutie and her mom put on- Rollin for Rescues. We bowled and all the money went to the Berea Animal shelter. Beau came with me, Mom, Bro and met Gram (Mom's Mom) for the first time. She liked him because he gave me a hard time, even though he didn't buckle his seat belt on the way to Cleveland. I won the 50/50 raffle, but I donated it back to the cause. Bro won a bucket of doggie goodies and Gram won 2 baskets of doggie stuff. Floyd is one lucky pooch! The stuff Bro won was doggie clothes- a Browns jersy, an OSU tee-shirt, an OSU sweater and an OSU hat. Floyd LOVES wearing the clothes! One night Bro and I stayed up til almost midnight playing dress up with him- I'll have to post pictures.
Saturday September 4: Went to visit Darla for the first time in a long time! Beau asked what we were doing since he was at work- I told him we were drinking wine and eating icecream. He told me I was a nerd. See why I like him so much?
Sunday September 12: Beau and I went to Mom & Dad's for dinner and so Beau could shoot his new bow with dad. You don't know how relieving it is to have a boyfriend my dad wants to shoot WITH instead of shoot AT.
Monday September 13: Grams (Dad's Mom) made spaghetti dinner for Bro, Cutie, Beau and I for Bro's birthday that was on the 8th. Meeting the second grandma went well- we had a really good time and brought home a ton of left overs.
Wednesday September 15: Beau and I went to Pittsburgh for his favorite musician's concert- Hank Williams the third or Hank 3. He's not my favorite, but it was a fun mid-week trip. And I got to meet one of the guys Beau works with and his wife. Ash and I really hit it off and we all had a really good time- despite waiting for an hour for a cab and being late to the concert then me almost getting in a fight with a Life Size Barbie and Beau ordering seven 7&7's on accident because the bartender couldn't hear what he was saying. It was pretty funny.
Monday September 20: Got a text at 12:30 from Beau saying "there was an incident at work, I got hit with a couple thousand pounds. I think I'm ok, but I'm going to the hospital to get checked out. WIll let you know when I know something." Remember when I said his was the 3rd most dangerous job? Yeah. He was just in the wrong place at the right time. A 2,000 lb cylander hit him in the back and sent him flying off a 10 foot platform where he landed on his head. THANKFULLY he only had 2 cracked ribs, slightly sprianed ankle and bruises from head to toe. That was a bad day for me. He was very lucky to walk away.
Thursday September 23- Sunday Sept. 26: I was on my way to Washington PA where Beau was working. He was getting off work for the week, we were getting a hotel room in town then I was taking him on a surprise weekend get away for his 26th birthday on the 24th. For those of you keeping track, yes, I am 6 weeks older! In conversations we've had since we first met, Beau had told me twice in passing, that he'd alwasy wanted to go to Gettysburg. I have a few friends in the hotel industry, so I made a phone call, got a discounted room and decided to surprise him with a weekend get away. He almsot ruined it because he was being such a baby (stubborn ass would substitute well for baby but I was being nice) about me not telling him where we were going- oh and the whole getting blown up thing almost threw a wrench in the works too. We worked through it though, and his eyes absolutely lit up when I told him Thursday night where we were going. Neither of us had been before (well I guess I was there when I was a kid, but I have no memories of it). Gettysburg deserves its own post, but I will say we had a great weekend.
Friday October 1: Rehersal dinner for Bubble Gum & D-Man's wedding. Since Beau was working, I took Gram as my "plus one". Plus she had made them a really nice afghan and I wanted her to be able to give it to them when it wasn't so hectic like I knew it would be Saturday.
Saturday October 2: Wedding day! Beautiful, emotional, hysterical, long awaited! This, also deserves its own post.
Monday October 4: I came home at lunch and made chicken noodle soup because it's freaking freezing- and my whole house smells amazing. I didn't have any chicken bouillon so I used the seasoning from some ramen noodles (you can take the girl out of college...), along with carrots, zucchini, onion, chicken (duh) red pepper flakes and the ever lovin Garlic Salt (Garlic Salt gets capital letters since its my favorite and I put it in everything I make) Then when I got home I threw in the ramen noodles. It was no joke the best soup I've ever made.
And now, you my friends are caught up on my life for the past 2 months. I've done a lot of laundry, trying to get my room cleaned. Somewhere in there I finished crocheting a blanket I started like 2 winters ago (its awesome). And I've spent a lot of time texting and talking to Beau while he's out of town. The weeks he's gone drag and drag, the weeks he's home just seem to fly.
Oh and Floyd's doing great- we'll probably have to put his OSU sweater on him since it's getting so cold! We love having a pit bull that loves to wear sweaters. Even my dog's a nerd! Though he did wake me up last week, crying, because he had his head stuck between the bars of his cage at 7:15am. Apparently he didn't want to be in his cage anymore. I had to call Bro home from work with a pair of wire clippers to cut him out. Bonehead.
Oh well, that's it. More soon. And pictures from the past two months too! PINKIE SWEAR!
So here's what's been going on since the beginning of August! Well, I'm going back to the end of July because that's where the story really starts.
Friday July 30: my cousin Serenade and her friends put together a murder mystery dinner- kind of like a live action game of Clue. Very fun. I had been talking to Match.com Man #6. We wanted to get together that weekend, but I had plans Friday and he had plans Saturday. I told him I was going to a dinner party then drinking and playing flip cup. He was like, well where's the party? So I called him and said if you'd like to come, you're more than welcome- HOWEVER- you have to dress up, it's a 40's themed party, and if you have a problem with gay guys, don't show. My cousin has a few gay friends and I didn't want to be the asshole that brought the asshole to the party, ya know? He had no problems, so we met up for a drink before hand (just to make sure he passed the creeper test-he did) then we headed on to the party. We had a blast. He was fun, sweet, good looking- we just really hit it off. Match.com only took 6 tries to find someone I had real hopes for. I couldn't wait to see him again!
Saturday July 31: A few years ago, I needed cash BAD. I had a check to cash, so I headed to Sky bank where I had an account. I did not have my ID so they wouldn't give me cash. ANY cash. Not even let me deposit most of my check and just have $20 "You're still getting cash, aren't you?" was their direct quote. So I pulled all my money (I say that like I had a lot) and went bank hunting. I walked into Home Savings and Loan in Streetsboro said "I hate those bitches at Sky, they made me cry." And it's been great ever since. My favorite banker, Ta-Ta, is only a little bit older than me and we always chit chat when I go in. We've been myspace and facebook friends and have each others numbers, but we've never gone out before. Well when I deposited my check Friday afternoon Ta-Ta was telling me that her brother in law was trying to set her up with this dude who was having a bonfire Saturday night, she wanted to go, but didn't have anyone to go with her. I didn't have plans, so I said, hey, I'll go with you. That was Friday, come Saturday I really wanted to back out. But I already told her I'd go, so I went. And that's where I met the amazing guy that brought me the flowers from the last post on our first date. We've been dating for about 2 months now. It seems like I've known him forever!
Monday August 2: My new Beau took me on our first date, surprised me with the flowers dyed my favorite color, played "Another One Bites the Dust" by Queen- which up til the moment he played it had been my dating anthem, took me to dinner, kicked my butt at putt-putt, then took me to a book store where we each picked out books that meant something to us then swaped them and read each others books. I picked Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawlings, he picked Why We Suck by Denis Leary. 2 months later, he's pretty sure Little Ann and Old Dan are still puppies... maybe someday he'll finish the book and they'll get to grow up. It was the thought that counts!
Tuesday August 3: I called Match Man #6 and told him I had met someone. Beau left for 9 days for work. He works on a drilling rig in Pennsylvania, drilling for natural gas. He usually works 7 days on, 7 days off- but he had to work 9 days because of a mandatory sensitivity training course. FYI the top three most dangerous jobs are 1.) Alsakan Crab Fishing 2.) Coal Mining 3.) Drilling Rigs. Yeah. Awesome.
Friday August 13-Sunday August 15: Camping! 9 of us went down to Mohican River to go camping and tubing, including Beau, Bro, his girl Cutie, my best friend Darla, her boyfriend lets call him Nemo, and some kids we grew up with, JP, Junior and Junior's friend Twin (seriously he looks just like Junior). We had a BLAST Friday night. Everyone got along, no one from the campground bothered us, we were camping by a river with a ton of beer- it was amazing. Saturday we got up and (after an hour detour) went tubing. 6 miles apparently = 4 hours by river. We had beer, we had booze, bring it on! Then about half way through it starts pouring rain, lighting, thunder, wind, the works. Crack open another beer and keep floating. FINALLY we got off the freaking river and headed back to camp. Darla & Nemo's tent was blown over, Jp, Junior & Twins tent was completly flooded, our tent that Beau and I were sharing with Bro and Cutie was half flooded- Bro and Cutie's half. So everyone but Beau and I packed up and headed out that night. We had dry gear, and it had stopped raining so we stuck it out.
Tuesday August 17: The 5th anniversary of my 21st birthday! Beau brought coffee and doughnuts to the shop for me and everyone I worked with. They told me he's a keeper. I said, DUH.
Friday August 20- Sunday August 22: Bubble Gum's Bachelorette Party! We went camping in Presque Isle New York- had a blast. Bubble Gum, Ruby and Ganker lived together in Mantua after high school, during college. I was the un-offical "dude on the couch." We've all been through our ups and downs and all arounds since then. I haven't hung out with all of them in years, so I was a little apprehensive, but we picked up right where we left off. We laughed, drank, ate, talked too much all weekend. Friday we stayed at the campsite and played games and talked, Saturday we tried swimming and laying out but it was overcast and chilly. By 3 it was raining. 2 weekends in a row I went camping and it rained. I was starting to get a complex. We went to the casino Saturday night, none of us really won, but we had a great time. And I saved Bubble Gum's life- she somehow managed to drop her engagement ring and I somehow managed to spot it (I was checking out the floor to see if anyone had dropped any dollars or chips!).
Sunday August 30: Went to a fund raiser Cutie and her mom put on- Rollin for Rescues. We bowled and all the money went to the Berea Animal shelter. Beau came with me, Mom, Bro and met Gram (Mom's Mom) for the first time. She liked him because he gave me a hard time, even though he didn't buckle his seat belt on the way to Cleveland. I won the 50/50 raffle, but I donated it back to the cause. Bro won a bucket of doggie goodies and Gram won 2 baskets of doggie stuff. Floyd is one lucky pooch! The stuff Bro won was doggie clothes- a Browns jersy, an OSU tee-shirt, an OSU sweater and an OSU hat. Floyd LOVES wearing the clothes! One night Bro and I stayed up til almost midnight playing dress up with him- I'll have to post pictures.
Saturday September 4: Went to visit Darla for the first time in a long time! Beau asked what we were doing since he was at work- I told him we were drinking wine and eating icecream. He told me I was a nerd. See why I like him so much?
Sunday September 12: Beau and I went to Mom & Dad's for dinner and so Beau could shoot his new bow with dad. You don't know how relieving it is to have a boyfriend my dad wants to shoot WITH instead of shoot AT.
Monday September 13: Grams (Dad's Mom) made spaghetti dinner for Bro, Cutie, Beau and I for Bro's birthday that was on the 8th. Meeting the second grandma went well- we had a really good time and brought home a ton of left overs.
Wednesday September 15: Beau and I went to Pittsburgh for his favorite musician's concert- Hank Williams the third or Hank 3. He's not my favorite, but it was a fun mid-week trip. And I got to meet one of the guys Beau works with and his wife. Ash and I really hit it off and we all had a really good time- despite waiting for an hour for a cab and being late to the concert then me almost getting in a fight with a Life Size Barbie and Beau ordering seven 7&7's on accident because the bartender couldn't hear what he was saying. It was pretty funny.
Monday September 20: Got a text at 12:30 from Beau saying "there was an incident at work, I got hit with a couple thousand pounds. I think I'm ok, but I'm going to the hospital to get checked out. WIll let you know when I know something." Remember when I said his was the 3rd most dangerous job? Yeah. He was just in the wrong place at the right time. A 2,000 lb cylander hit him in the back and sent him flying off a 10 foot platform where he landed on his head. THANKFULLY he only had 2 cracked ribs, slightly sprianed ankle and bruises from head to toe. That was a bad day for me. He was very lucky to walk away.
Thursday September 23- Sunday Sept. 26: I was on my way to Washington PA where Beau was working. He was getting off work for the week, we were getting a hotel room in town then I was taking him on a surprise weekend get away for his 26th birthday on the 24th. For those of you keeping track, yes, I am 6 weeks older! In conversations we've had since we first met, Beau had told me twice in passing, that he'd alwasy wanted to go to Gettysburg. I have a few friends in the hotel industry, so I made a phone call, got a discounted room and decided to surprise him with a weekend get away. He almsot ruined it because he was being such a baby (stubborn ass would substitute well for baby but I was being nice) about me not telling him where we were going- oh and the whole getting blown up thing almost threw a wrench in the works too. We worked through it though, and his eyes absolutely lit up when I told him Thursday night where we were going. Neither of us had been before (well I guess I was there when I was a kid, but I have no memories of it). Gettysburg deserves its own post, but I will say we had a great weekend.
Friday October 1: Rehersal dinner for Bubble Gum & D-Man's wedding. Since Beau was working, I took Gram as my "plus one". Plus she had made them a really nice afghan and I wanted her to be able to give it to them when it wasn't so hectic like I knew it would be Saturday.
Saturday October 2: Wedding day! Beautiful, emotional, hysterical, long awaited! This, also deserves its own post.
Monday October 4: I came home at lunch and made chicken noodle soup because it's freaking freezing- and my whole house smells amazing. I didn't have any chicken bouillon so I used the seasoning from some ramen noodles (you can take the girl out of college...), along with carrots, zucchini, onion, chicken (duh) red pepper flakes and the ever lovin Garlic Salt (Garlic Salt gets capital letters since its my favorite and I put it in everything I make) Then when I got home I threw in the ramen noodles. It was no joke the best soup I've ever made.
And now, you my friends are caught up on my life for the past 2 months. I've done a lot of laundry, trying to get my room cleaned. Somewhere in there I finished crocheting a blanket I started like 2 winters ago (its awesome). And I've spent a lot of time texting and talking to Beau while he's out of town. The weeks he's gone drag and drag, the weeks he's home just seem to fly.
Oh and Floyd's doing great- we'll probably have to put his OSU sweater on him since it's getting so cold! We love having a pit bull that loves to wear sweaters. Even my dog's a nerd! Though he did wake me up last week, crying, because he had his head stuck between the bars of his cage at 7:15am. Apparently he didn't want to be in his cage anymore. I had to call Bro home from work with a pair of wire clippers to cut him out. Bonehead.
Oh well, that's it. More soon. And pictures from the past two months too! PINKIE SWEAR!
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
:)
I met someone.
He brought me these on our first date.
He had them dyed my favorite color. Teal. And blue and green.
He didn't even know what color teal was.
But he got it done anyway.
I'm in trouble.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Fear
Everyone has fears. It's natural. It's also natural for friends and family of the fearful to make fun of them. For instance: one of the first times we went to the pit this summer, it was me, Bro and friends we gre up with who are also brothers, JP and Junior. (I'll call him Junior because he's the youngest by far in our group of friends. So young that I used to babysit him. Sidenote- you are officially OLD when kids you babysat are now in college) The boys were all fishing, I was just floating- catchin some rays. Bro had this innertube that's like a lazyboy recliner meets innertube meets bass boat. It's for fisherman to sit in, float, and still be able to fish. It even comes with flippers! Well Junior was a little jealous, so he folded up a raft and sat on it so he could sit up and fish too. JP fished from the shore until it got too hot, then he came in the water and we shared a raft, kicking out to where Bro and Junior were fishing in the center of the pond. On our way out, something BIG jumped out of the water between us and our brothers. Immediately Bro and Juniors legs came flying out of the water like they were in shark infested waters. Bro said "I knew watching Deep Blue Sea before coming out here would be a mistake!" JP and I, of course, laughed our heads off and ridiculed our pansy ass younger brothers for being such wienies.
Logically, we know there's a better chance we'll invent the cure for baldness, a diet pill that actually works and a money tree than we have of getting attacked by a shark in the pit. It's fresh water for starters. Hundreds of miles from any ocean. So clear you could see the shark coming for you if there was indeed a shark. But the human mind is a funny thing... your heart still pounds, your mind races and you want your feet out of the water and where you can see them!
It's bad enough when a rouge blue gill nips at my fingers or toes- somehow I seem to be the only person out of the bunches of us that have swam at the pit that has gotten bit. Lucky Me. Rouge blue gills aside,
I've never had more than slight, passing anxiety at the pit. Until recently. I decided (once I paid my hefty library fines...) that I need to start reading more classic novels. I started with Lonesome Dove by Larry McGurty. I've never seen the movie, or tv show or whatever it was- just heard it was a great book about an important time in US history. It was a good book, a long book, but a good one. Well it's also kind of graphic. In one part, a woman was kidnapped- her abductor told her he would cut a hole in her stomach, tie her guts to a stick, drag her body 40 feet away and leave her to watch the coyotes eat her guts until she dies if she tried to run away. Yeah. I don't really know why I told you that, other than it was pretty inventive. And she didn't run away! Well the scene that really got me, just gives me the willies, is a bunch of cowboys were herding cattle to Montana from Texas and they had come to the first river they needed to cross. During the chaos of the river crossing, a young boy somehow rode his horse into a nest of copperhead snakes in the middle of the river and was bitten a dozen times. He died.
Now I don't like snakes to begin with, in fact I flat out hate them. Can't even hardly watch a tv show if there are snakes on it. I'm having a hard time even typing the S word! So now, whenever I'm in the water, I'm not worried about sharks, I'm worried about swimming through a nest of copperhead snakes! Stupid Larry McGurty and his stupid classic American novel!
Logically, we know there's a better chance we'll invent the cure for baldness, a diet pill that actually works and a money tree than we have of getting attacked by a shark in the pit. It's fresh water for starters. Hundreds of miles from any ocean. So clear you could see the shark coming for you if there was indeed a shark. But the human mind is a funny thing... your heart still pounds, your mind races and you want your feet out of the water and where you can see them!
It's bad enough when a rouge blue gill nips at my fingers or toes- somehow I seem to be the only person out of the bunches of us that have swam at the pit that has gotten bit. Lucky Me. Rouge blue gills aside,
I've never had more than slight, passing anxiety at the pit. Until recently. I decided (once I paid my hefty library fines...) that I need to start reading more classic novels. I started with Lonesome Dove by Larry McGurty. I've never seen the movie, or tv show or whatever it was- just heard it was a great book about an important time in US history. It was a good book, a long book, but a good one. Well it's also kind of graphic. In one part, a woman was kidnapped- her abductor told her he would cut a hole in her stomach, tie her guts to a stick, drag her body 40 feet away and leave her to watch the coyotes eat her guts until she dies if she tried to run away. Yeah. I don't really know why I told you that, other than it was pretty inventive. And she didn't run away! Well the scene that really got me, just gives me the willies, is a bunch of cowboys were herding cattle to Montana from Texas and they had come to the first river they needed to cross. During the chaos of the river crossing, a young boy somehow rode his horse into a nest of copperhead snakes in the middle of the river and was bitten a dozen times. He died.
Now I don't like snakes to begin with, in fact I flat out hate them. Can't even hardly watch a tv show if there are snakes on it. I'm having a hard time even typing the S word! So now, whenever I'm in the water, I'm not worried about sharks, I'm worried about swimming through a nest of copperhead snakes! Stupid Larry McGurty and his stupid classic American novel!
Saturday, July 24, 2010
"You want a beer? How bout a shot too?"
Of course I said yes. I wasn't about to turn down a free beer LET ALONE a shot! Now let me back up and tell you why I was offered a beer and a shot.
Last night Bro and Girl asked if I wanted to go to dinner with them, then watch their first sand volleyball game in Kent. Both Bro and Girl are really good about inviting me out with them, its just that sometimes I don't like being the third wheel. So I said, "I'll go, thanks for not minding me being the third wheel!" Then Bro said, "Well you have to admit, you are really good at it!" I love my brother, I love my brother, I love my brother...
We went to Penn Station for subs and fries. I had never been before, it was really good, don't get me wrong... but I like Jimmy John's better. After Penn Station, we headed for the bowling alley. They have 2 sand volleyball courts out front, along with a tiki bar and a few tables and chairs for spectators. We had no sooner gotten there, got a round of beers and sat down when it started to rain. Then lightning. Then POUR. So we slogged through the rain to the inside bar. The only thought in my head was 'please Erin, do not slip and fall on the pavement and bite it in front of all these people!'
Well we safely made it inside, but it was a weird crowd at the bar. An old crowd. A really ridiculously dressed up crowd for a bowling alley bar crowd. Only 2 things that made sense to us- that's where all the townies come since the students have overrun every other bar in the city, OR it was a 20 year high school reunion. But they didn't have name tags- so I'm going with the townies. Since it was so crowded, we only grabbed a beer and went to sit in the almost dead bowling alley. Bro was fascinated watching some nerd get strike after strike. Yeah, it was impressive, but the guy probably eats, breathes and sleeps bowling and uses his bowling score as a pick up line. If he ever talks to girls. And no, the teenager at the shoe return counter does not count.
Not long after we were sitting inside, more of their teammates arrived. The rain slowed, so we headed outside. The lightning had stopped and the rain had slowed down enough so they got the game going. It was Girl and a bunch of her co-workers and their significant others on the team. I bought another beer and stood at a table under an umbrella to watch the game. It was still raining, at times it was really coming down. Then I had to pee. So I slipped off my shoes, waited for a lull in the rain and jogged to the entrance awning of the bowling alley, where I saw an old friend talking with his buddy. I stopped to say hello then headed into the bathroom.
Coming out of the bowling alley, carrying my beer in a can in one hand, purse and shoes in the other I started jogging back out through the rain to my table and umbrella. Somewhere between the awning, my table and the tiki bar full of people I slipped and fell. Totally bit it. In front of like 40 people. Granted 15 of those people were playing volleyball- but still. So sitting on my butt on the wet pavement, getting rained on, with 20 or so wide eyed, open mouthed people staring at me, I said the first thing that popped into my head. "And she's SAFE!" When all else fails, throw out a baseball reference.
The bartender held out a new can of beer for me, "You want a beer?" I walked to the tiki hut, took my beer and said "Hey folks, the show was free tonight!" they laughed. Then the bartender said "How bout a shot too?" Um, I just fell on my ass in front of a ton of people- of course I want a shot too!
I have a friend, Harry, who used to call the scrapes and bruises you inevitably wake up with after a night of drinking MARIs. Miscellaneous Alcohol Related Injuries. Normally, my alcohol related injuries are miscellaneous and I have a hard time remembering exactly how they occurred. Unfortunately, this morning, I clearly remembered every detail. Oh well, good thing I don't have a problem being the headline of someone elses story. Can't you hear it now, "Oh my gosh, I was at the bar last night and some girl totally bit it!" Yeah, that's me. Some girl.
Last night Bro and Girl asked if I wanted to go to dinner with them, then watch their first sand volleyball game in Kent. Both Bro and Girl are really good about inviting me out with them, its just that sometimes I don't like being the third wheel. So I said, "I'll go, thanks for not minding me being the third wheel!" Then Bro said, "Well you have to admit, you are really good at it!" I love my brother, I love my brother, I love my brother...
We went to Penn Station for subs and fries. I had never been before, it was really good, don't get me wrong... but I like Jimmy John's better. After Penn Station, we headed for the bowling alley. They have 2 sand volleyball courts out front, along with a tiki bar and a few tables and chairs for spectators. We had no sooner gotten there, got a round of beers and sat down when it started to rain. Then lightning. Then POUR. So we slogged through the rain to the inside bar. The only thought in my head was 'please Erin, do not slip and fall on the pavement and bite it in front of all these people!'
Well we safely made it inside, but it was a weird crowd at the bar. An old crowd. A really ridiculously dressed up crowd for a bowling alley bar crowd. Only 2 things that made sense to us- that's where all the townies come since the students have overrun every other bar in the city, OR it was a 20 year high school reunion. But they didn't have name tags- so I'm going with the townies. Since it was so crowded, we only grabbed a beer and went to sit in the almost dead bowling alley. Bro was fascinated watching some nerd get strike after strike. Yeah, it was impressive, but the guy probably eats, breathes and sleeps bowling and uses his bowling score as a pick up line. If he ever talks to girls. And no, the teenager at the shoe return counter does not count.
Not long after we were sitting inside, more of their teammates arrived. The rain slowed, so we headed outside. The lightning had stopped and the rain had slowed down enough so they got the game going. It was Girl and a bunch of her co-workers and their significant others on the team. I bought another beer and stood at a table under an umbrella to watch the game. It was still raining, at times it was really coming down. Then I had to pee. So I slipped off my shoes, waited for a lull in the rain and jogged to the entrance awning of the bowling alley, where I saw an old friend talking with his buddy. I stopped to say hello then headed into the bathroom.
Coming out of the bowling alley, carrying my beer in a can in one hand, purse and shoes in the other I started jogging back out through the rain to my table and umbrella. Somewhere between the awning, my table and the tiki bar full of people I slipped and fell. Totally bit it. In front of like 40 people. Granted 15 of those people were playing volleyball- but still. So sitting on my butt on the wet pavement, getting rained on, with 20 or so wide eyed, open mouthed people staring at me, I said the first thing that popped into my head. "And she's SAFE!" When all else fails, throw out a baseball reference.
The bartender held out a new can of beer for me, "You want a beer?" I walked to the tiki hut, took my beer and said "Hey folks, the show was free tonight!" they laughed. Then the bartender said "How bout a shot too?" Um, I just fell on my ass in front of a ton of people- of course I want a shot too!
I have a friend, Harry, who used to call the scrapes and bruises you inevitably wake up with after a night of drinking MARIs. Miscellaneous Alcohol Related Injuries. Normally, my alcohol related injuries are miscellaneous and I have a hard time remembering exactly how they occurred. Unfortunately, this morning, I clearly remembered every detail. Oh well, good thing I don't have a problem being the headline of someone elses story. Can't you hear it now, "Oh my gosh, I was at the bar last night and some girl totally bit it!" Yeah, that's me. Some girl.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Did ya miss me?
Sorry it's been so long! In my defense, the computer is downstairs- my air conditioner is upstairs... need I say more? Plus I've been busy going on lame dates and motorcycle rides (not at the same time- Lame and Motorcycle do not belong in the same sentence).
So yeah, Match.com is really working... kinda. I was talking to Bubble Gum tonight about the dates I've been on in the past month (1 good, 2 mediocre and 1 just lame) and I told her I hadn't seen anyone a second time- she asked "Is it because you can't find someone one or are you just being picky again?" I said "Picky. Hello, you met my ex. Not goin down that road again!"
Date run-down: #1 was half asleep, balked at buying my $2.50 beer, when he came back from the atm with money to buy my beer he threw the money at me not the bartender. I should have left right then. It didn't really get better. Also, the bar had a stripper pole in the middle of the dance floor. Yeah. #2 was actually good- we went for a ride on his motorcycle, kicked another couples butt at pool and made hotdogs over a campfire for dinner. I would have seen him again EXCEPT he was still in love with his ex-girlfriend. Can't compete with that. #3 was a really nice guy- just not my type at all. For instance, I like the sun, I don't live in my parents basement, I'm not into video games and I'm not on anti-depressants. Turns out we didn't have all that much in common. But he was very nice (must be good drugs). #4 I had hopes for. Had being the key word. A run down of our date: Meet at bar, order drinks, Leo walks in (#4 used to work with Leo), I pretty much cease to exist and the world stops spinning so #4 can talk to Leo, Leo's wife tries to talk with me- but she's shit faced so it was just a lot of slurring, I pick up the tv remote and find Nitro Circus on the bar tv while I drink my beer in silence, order second beer, Leo & Robin leave, we leave, #4 does not get a call back. Needless to say, the search continues.
So I'm pretty sure the biggest thing to happen since I've last written, besides my lack luster love life and getting piss ass drunk on the 4th of July (which I won't go into detail about here... but lets just say All Drunks Should Wear Life Jackets!) has been the Cops 4 Kids With Autism poker run.
About 2 months ago Julianna came to the shop to see if we'd donate some signs and a vehicle wrap for her organization, Cops 4 Kids With Autism. As she was telling me about C4KWA, we were both standing there trying not to cry... she was sucking up tears because she was so passionate about it, I was sucking them up because I'm the sentimental type . Julianna and her husband are both cops and they have an autistic son. They started this program about 5 years ago to help other families with autistic children. The long and the short of it is, people donate things for the entire family- even the pets, the things are put into huge baskets for families with an autistic child, a uniformed police officer from the childs community hand delivers the basket to the family. Not only does it help form a good repoire between the family and the police officer, but the police department will know that an autistic child lives in the home in case there is an emergency. For instance, if the child should run away, the police department has on file a list of places near the families home that are dangerous such as railroad tracks or a pond.
As of now, 5 counties are involved with Cops 4 Kids with Autism, and they add a county every year- Portage is scheduled to be added in 2010. This year was the first annual Cops 4 Kids With Autism Poker Run. The company I work for donated a few banners and wrapped Julianna's ugly old maroon van. See pictures above! Since I had worked so hard and so closely on this project, I really wanted to be involved in the poker run. (A poker run is a motorcycle ride for charity- there are 5 stops, and at each stop riders draw a card. The best poker hand at the end wins a prize.) I had intended on date #2 sticking around long enough so I could ride with him in the poker run, but since that didn't happen, Julianna got me set up with her friend Tony. Tony's a Cleveland police officer and graciously put up with my back seat driving and yammering all day. I think as good karma for putting up with me, he won the 50-50 raffle at the end of the day. But great guy that he is, Tony donated his winnings back to C4KWA.
The day of the ride was funny/weird for me. I had to get up at like 6 on a SATURDAY when I normally don't even get up until 8:15-8:30 to be at work at 9 Mon-Fri. I met one of our customers Stace in Ravenna and road to Medina with him. Stace has a towing company, Schumann's Roadside out of Rootstown. He stopped in for graphics on one of his trucks and we told him about the poker run. He got into it! He told us he would donate his truck and motorcycle transport trailer for the day, in case anyone broke down. If Stace wasn't already one of our favorite customers, him donating his time and his trailer for the day would have sealed the deal. So anyway, I was going to meet Stace and his new fiance Molly in Ravenna and ride with them, that way I wouldn't have to worry about how I'd get back to my car. Remember I said that. Turns out Molly had to work so it was just Stace and I. Since he was driving, I brought coffee and doughnut holes for breakfast :)
We get down to Century Harley Davidson in Medina around 8. Remember, I'm usually still sleeping at 8. And we help get things set up for registration to start at 9. I had all intentions of being a good little worker bee, but there were a lot of workers and I got bored, so I ended up wandering off. Happens to the best of us. Eventually I found myself hanging out with Julianna's son, The Original Cops 4 Kids Kid. He's great! He wanted me to give him a piggy back ride, I couldn't turn him down. When he hopped on he leaned over my shoulder and told me, "You're my favorite piggy!" Almost a week later and that still makes me smile! Finally around 11, we had the blessing of the bikes then everyone started their engines and we were off!
It was so cool, for a first time Poker Runner, to see over 200 bikes, a handful of decorated cars, a big van, a tow truck and motorcycle trailer and a bunch of cop cars parading down the road. I didn't realize but poker runs are kinda like funerals- you don't stop for red lights, you keep the group together and you keep moving. Tony was saying there's a poker run in Cleveland every year that has over 1500 bikes. That would be a something to see! It was so cool though, people would wave and honk their horns, really get into it. I felt like I was in a really awesome, really fast paced parade. There was even this one old hill billy standing in his side yard with his long grey hair, big bushy grey beard, wearing a wife beater and either boxer briefs or just really short shorts, waving both arms at us as we rode by.
We started in Medina and ended in Wakeman, which is really freakin far away from my neck of the woods. From there, I was going to ride back to Ravenna to get my car with Stace. Except somewhere during the day, Molly's truck broke down with a flat in Warren and Stace didn't have any tow trucks to send out to get her. Kind of the shoe makers kids go barefoot thing, I guess... Tow truck guys fiance gets stranded. So we were going to leave early the ride. No big deal, the ride was over, we were just hanging out and eating at the end of the ride cook out. Plus, I was tired and had a nice set of raccoon eyes from the sun and wind on my face except where my sunglasses were. Well, Tony offered to drive me back so Stace wouldn't have to double back to Ravenna then to his shop for a spare tire then out to pick up Molly. So my grand master plan of getting a ride with Stace so I wouldn't have to inconvenience anyone with taking me back to my car went right out the window. Tony and I waited until the big raffles were done, then he took me back to Ravenna. From there he went on to Wadsworth to a party. He put some miles on his bike that day, I'll tell you what. I was one tired puppy when I got back, but the last thing I wanted to do was sit down after I'd been sitting on the bike all day!
Cops 4 Kids With Autism raised over $3000 from the poker run. It's a great feeling knowing I was involved. For more information, or if you'd like to donate or be involved with next years poker run check out their website at http://www.cops4kidswithautism.com/
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Why I LOVE my dog
1.) He is cute
2.) He is a good cuddler
3.) He smiles!
4.) He is klutzy- constantly running into things, bull in a china shop style.
5.) He thinks the coffee table is a bridge for his personal use.
6.) He thinks our things are his personal chew toys- nothing is safe, not even the tv remote. Still hate him for that- the tv is stuck on golf.
7.) He is afraid of things, specifically the dark and things in the dark. A flip flop fell from my shoe basket and was laying on the stairs, you would have thought it was an anaconda the way he reacted to it.
8.) He can catch food when you throw it to him (finally) it only took 3 months of cheese landing on and sticking to his head before he figured it out.
9.) He motivates me to run every day since he's less of a peckerhead when he's worn out. (see fitness report below)
10.) He likes to swim.
11.) He makes me laugh.
12.) He pukes when we go on rides, but likes getting in the car because the car takes him to Grandma's house and Grandma gives him graham crackers.
13.) He jumps and smiles and generally goes bananas when he sees his leash.
14.) He "yips" in his sleep and its really cute
15.) He thinks our picnic table is his own personal mountain to climb on
16.) When he's bored, he chases his tail- sometimes he falls down.
17.) He will, without hesitation, eat anything remotely consumable- and somethings that aren't.
18.) He is a 50 pound lap dog
19.) He looks so pathetic when he's laying on his bed and his bone rolls off, just out of reach.
20.) He loves me like crazy
The first pic, he was sleeping on my leg- the flash woke him up. The second was his assent to the top of Mt. Picnic. The third is a pic Bubble Gum took of him sleeping on her and D-Man... it was too funny not to post. Sorry they're dark, all from cell cameras!
Fitness Report: I'm going to start adding these to the bottoms of my blogs, mainly for my personal records. I had a skinny summer 2 summers ago and I want another one! I went to Illinois over Labor Day weekend that skinny summer to visit a friend from college and I wanted to look good- so I stopped eating fried stuff and started running. The only regrets I have about that weekend are 1.) I didn't take my running shoes and 2.) all we did was sit around watching House and eating naTOTsos- nachos except instead of chips they had tatertots. Amazing.
Anyhoo my bff Darla and I are 'training' for a 5k. She's got this training guide that's supposed to take you from couch potato to 5k in a few weeks. She's doing it right, I'm just kinda winging it. Here's been my week so far:
Sunday- Floyd and I ran to the pit, through the pit (off roadin!), then walked home. 1 mile
Monday- Ran to the neighbors pit, up our hill, down to our pit and back. 1 mile
Tuesday- Ran up the hill, past our pit, to the end of the road and back (my old route) 1 mile
Wednesday- Ran to the neighbors pit w/ Floyd, dropped him off, walked to our pit with Jena, swam one down, one back, walked back. Ran/walked 1 mile, swam quite a freakin bit (I was in bed by 8:30).
Thursday- Ran to the neighbors pit, doubled back past my house, down to past our pit, to the end of the road and back home 1.5 miles!
I wake up every day, look in the mirror and am disappointed because I'm not skinny yet. One day. Then I'm puttin that "Skinny Bitches Only" sign at the pit!
Sunday, June 13, 2010
No Skinny Bitches Allowed
That's the sign we're going to make to take with us to the pit. Then if some miracle happens and we all get skinny, it's going to say "Only Skinny Bitches Allowed."
Today was Sunday, and it was cloudy and crappy and kinda rainy- until about 4:30- then it was beautiful. Which was great and all, but I'm really looking for hot and sunny before 11 am. Since the summer of 2004, we have spent hot, sunny Sundays at the pit in the summer. I don't know why we waited until '04- I guess things just never lined up before then. See Bro had just started working at the pit, and all of our friends were on a co-ed, adult softball team and we played on Sundays. After a particularly hot game Bro said, lets go to the pit, jump in and cool off. It quickly became our routine. We all bought pool floats and would just float and relax- when we weren't jumping off the 8' bank trying to make the biggest splashes. We also used to dive down to the bottom and try to bring up the biggest rock. We quit playing that game when our friend, Blondie, threw a particularly large rock back into the water, not realizing I was still under. Luckily it missed me- but everyone was pretty sure I'd be getting coloring books for Christmas for the rest of my life if it had hit me- so we quit that game.
There are quite a few ponds at the pit- I mean, they dig in the sand and the water table is pretty high around here, so eventually the holes fill up with clean, clear water. The water is filtered through the sand and gravel making it super clear. You can see your toes as far down as you can stretch them. Where we float there are two ponds side by side. We used to go in the front pond because it has easier access- but then we started the jumping thing, so we switched to the bottom pond because it had higher more sheer banks. Now we stick to the bottom pond because it's bigger.
Here's how a normal Sunday in the summer goes. I wake up, shave if boys are coming-otherwise I yam what I yam, slather on spf 15 or higher (these days its 30) put on a suit, put on some shorts, pack a cooler with beer, water, snackies, slip on my flip flops, grab my towel and head for my car where I keep my blown up raft in the back seat all summer long. I drive the 1/2 mile to the pit, open the gate and head down the hill. Park, get out my raft, flip flops and shorts come off, I put tanning oil on over the sun screen, wait until I'm good and hot then wrestle with my raft until I'm comfortable, re-arrange suit straps for ultimate sun tan experience, exhale and relax. To me, it's paradise.
Over the years we've formed our own little float-illa of friends and family. So sometimes its a surprise to see who shows up, but its always a good time. We tailgate with snacks and stuff, sometimes we'll bring a grill down or other times we'll head back to our house for a cook out. Sometimes it's a 'recovery' day so it's quiet and peaceful. Other times it's a free for all, jumping, laughing, yelling, splashing, mud wrestling, swimming races, sand dune challenges... Yes I said mud wrestling.
Our sand and gravel is washed- so the excess water that comes off the plant where they wash the sand and gravel forms a little gully, or wash, that flows out into the pond. The little 'canyon' that formed is actually our entrance point to the pond. Well one day, only my best friends from college, Darla, Lenny and Sneaky (it's always the quiet ones you've got to watch out for!) were the only ones going to the pit. Bro and his friends had something going, so they weren't coming. Well we decided to go on a little 'field trip' and follow the water to see where it came from. What we found was an amazing little gully full of thick, cool mud. So of course, one thing leads to another and someone got stiff armed into the mud. Besides being good 'clean' fun, it also kept the bugs off. We were probably gone for a half an hour or more, just horsing around. We had also found some blue clay, so of course we were drawing all over each other with it. Finally we were hungry or tired or something, so we headed back to the pond to rinse off. As we came to the edge of the pond I see Bro and about 7 of his friends on the far bank looking at us. I hear echoing over the water, "I didn't know Erin had black friends."
That was just one fun experience we've had- I can't even begin to try telling all the stories that have happened at the pit- some of them I'm not even allowed to tell, they're classified.
There's just something almost magical about being there. It's not so much the physical location, or who you're with or what you're doing- relaxing and enjoying the day- but a strange combination of all three. I can't describe it better than that. The only other thing I can say is sunny Sundays through September, we'll be on the water after noon- come on out and see for yourself.
Today was Sunday, and it was cloudy and crappy and kinda rainy- until about 4:30- then it was beautiful. Which was great and all, but I'm really looking for hot and sunny before 11 am. Since the summer of 2004, we have spent hot, sunny Sundays at the pit in the summer. I don't know why we waited until '04- I guess things just never lined up before then. See Bro had just started working at the pit, and all of our friends were on a co-ed, adult softball team and we played on Sundays. After a particularly hot game Bro said, lets go to the pit, jump in and cool off. It quickly became our routine. We all bought pool floats and would just float and relax- when we weren't jumping off the 8' bank trying to make the biggest splashes. We also used to dive down to the bottom and try to bring up the biggest rock. We quit playing that game when our friend, Blondie, threw a particularly large rock back into the water, not realizing I was still under. Luckily it missed me- but everyone was pretty sure I'd be getting coloring books for Christmas for the rest of my life if it had hit me- so we quit that game.
There are quite a few ponds at the pit- I mean, they dig in the sand and the water table is pretty high around here, so eventually the holes fill up with clean, clear water. The water is filtered through the sand and gravel making it super clear. You can see your toes as far down as you can stretch them. Where we float there are two ponds side by side. We used to go in the front pond because it has easier access- but then we started the jumping thing, so we switched to the bottom pond because it had higher more sheer banks. Now we stick to the bottom pond because it's bigger.
Here's how a normal Sunday in the summer goes. I wake up, shave if boys are coming-otherwise I yam what I yam, slather on spf 15 or higher (these days its 30) put on a suit, put on some shorts, pack a cooler with beer, water, snackies, slip on my flip flops, grab my towel and head for my car where I keep my blown up raft in the back seat all summer long. I drive the 1/2 mile to the pit, open the gate and head down the hill. Park, get out my raft, flip flops and shorts come off, I put tanning oil on over the sun screen, wait until I'm good and hot then wrestle with my raft until I'm comfortable, re-arrange suit straps for ultimate sun tan experience, exhale and relax. To me, it's paradise.
Over the years we've formed our own little float-illa of friends and family. So sometimes its a surprise to see who shows up, but its always a good time. We tailgate with snacks and stuff, sometimes we'll bring a grill down or other times we'll head back to our house for a cook out. Sometimes it's a 'recovery' day so it's quiet and peaceful. Other times it's a free for all, jumping, laughing, yelling, splashing, mud wrestling, swimming races, sand dune challenges... Yes I said mud wrestling.
Our sand and gravel is washed- so the excess water that comes off the plant where they wash the sand and gravel forms a little gully, or wash, that flows out into the pond. The little 'canyon' that formed is actually our entrance point to the pond. Well one day, only my best friends from college, Darla, Lenny and Sneaky (it's always the quiet ones you've got to watch out for!) were the only ones going to the pit. Bro and his friends had something going, so they weren't coming. Well we decided to go on a little 'field trip' and follow the water to see where it came from. What we found was an amazing little gully full of thick, cool mud. So of course, one thing leads to another and someone got stiff armed into the mud. Besides being good 'clean' fun, it also kept the bugs off. We were probably gone for a half an hour or more, just horsing around. We had also found some blue clay, so of course we were drawing all over each other with it. Finally we were hungry or tired or something, so we headed back to the pond to rinse off. As we came to the edge of the pond I see Bro and about 7 of his friends on the far bank looking at us. I hear echoing over the water, "I didn't know Erin had black friends."
That was just one fun experience we've had- I can't even begin to try telling all the stories that have happened at the pit- some of them I'm not even allowed to tell, they're classified.
There's just something almost magical about being there. It's not so much the physical location, or who you're with or what you're doing- relaxing and enjoying the day- but a strange combination of all three. I can't describe it better than that. The only other thing I can say is sunny Sundays through September, we'll be on the water after noon- come on out and see for yourself.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Heart sick
Normally I'm all funny funny, jokey jokey. But today is not one of those days. I've been following the brave journey of Abby Sunderland since the 16 year old decided to try to circumnavigate the world a few months ago. This morning Abby manually activated her EPIRB satellite positioning device indicating she was in need of rescue. EPIRB's go off 1 of 2 ways; when they are submersed in water, or when manually activated. So if her ship sank, the EPIRB would go off automatically when it hit the water- an amazing safety feature if the sailor is incapable of setting it off manually. She is in the middle of the Indian Ocean. The nearest ship with the nearest help was 400 miles away. Since Abby set the EPIRB off manually, that's actually a good sign- she had the fortitude and the capabilities to activate the device herself. But as of 9:30 tonight, no one has gotten to her yet. She is just a girl, alone, lost in the ocean.
What upset me so much about the whole situation were the comments some "people" are leaving on the news sites reporting Abby's distress. I put people in quotations because in my mind, they aren't acting like humans, more like ignorant, evil, barbarians. For the most part, they are saying things like "stupid girl," "stupid parents," "stupid government," not sure exactly how the government got involved- but ok. The one that got me, really took my breath away at the absolute awfulness was someone said they hoped Abby was "kidnapped and brutally raped by Somali pirates."
This girl was living out her dream! Her parents helped her the best they could by preparing her and supporting her. Their older son had successfully completed the trip when he was a teenager. And honestly, they only would have been able to hold her back another two years, at 18 she would have done it with our without her parents blessing (at least I would have.) Abby is a hero, she took the initiative to fulfill a dream, follow in her brothers footsteps AND become one of- if not the youngest- females to circumnavigate the world. Not many people can say they've ever done that, had a dream or a lofty goal and actually followed through with it. If the absolute worst happens and she doesn't make it, at least those that know her can take comfort in the knowledge that she died doing what she loved and while trying to accomplish something few ever have. If she survives, and God willing, she will- I would be willing to bet this young lady tries her quest again in the future.
I know how difficult it is for me, a complete stranger who has only read about Abby thanks to Yahoo News, to read of her distress. I could not even begin to imagine what is running through the minds of her family or friends. Or of Abby herself. I don't know what's happening in the Indian Ocean right now, all I know is my thoughts and prayers are with Abby and her family tonight.
What upset me so much about the whole situation were the comments some "people" are leaving on the news sites reporting Abby's distress. I put people in quotations because in my mind, they aren't acting like humans, more like ignorant, evil, barbarians. For the most part, they are saying things like "stupid girl," "stupid parents," "stupid government," not sure exactly how the government got involved- but ok. The one that got me, really took my breath away at the absolute awfulness was someone said they hoped Abby was "kidnapped and brutally raped by Somali pirates."
This girl was living out her dream! Her parents helped her the best they could by preparing her and supporting her. Their older son had successfully completed the trip when he was a teenager. And honestly, they only would have been able to hold her back another two years, at 18 she would have done it with our without her parents blessing (at least I would have.) Abby is a hero, she took the initiative to fulfill a dream, follow in her brothers footsteps AND become one of- if not the youngest- females to circumnavigate the world. Not many people can say they've ever done that, had a dream or a lofty goal and actually followed through with it. If the absolute worst happens and she doesn't make it, at least those that know her can take comfort in the knowledge that she died doing what she loved and while trying to accomplish something few ever have. If she survives, and God willing, she will- I would be willing to bet this young lady tries her quest again in the future.
I know how difficult it is for me, a complete stranger who has only read about Abby thanks to Yahoo News, to read of her distress. I could not even begin to imagine what is running through the minds of her family or friends. Or of Abby herself. I don't know what's happening in the Indian Ocean right now, all I know is my thoughts and prayers are with Abby and her family tonight.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Bizzaro!
Ever have one of those days where you're talking about someone and they suddenly call you? Or you think man, I could really go for a peach milk shake and peach is the special shake flavor of the day at the local ice cream shop? I have a friend who has a friend who calls that a "Cosmic Coincidence." They happen to me often.
About a year ago, I was talking with my co-workers about death and dying. My question was, who was the first person to die? And what did his/her people do with him/her? When did we start burying our dead? Who came up with that crazy idea? I just kept asking unanswerable questions. Finally I gave up, we didn't know. Not twenty minutes later, the phone rang. I picked up the cordless phone and read the caller I.D. readout- it said "Saint Peter." It was actually a Catholic church, Saints Peter & Paul, but I did not answer that call. No way, no how. I wasn't ready to meet Saint Peter.
That was a good one, but it was a while ago- I've actually had two other Cosmic Coincidences in the last 24 hours.
The first was yesterday. Since I'm in a bathing suit so much of the summer (last summer excluded because it SUCKED) I generally try to buy nice suits. I also wear the same suit for like 7 years because 1.) I love it and 2.) I paid too much for it. My boss Mary (her name's not really Mary, she just tells sales people who call and annoy her that her name's Mary after she's rude to them. It's pretty funny actually), brought a catalog to work so my co-worker Victoria could check it out. (She's not really Victoria either- Victoria is a girl that sent me a really good resume, so we tease our girl when she screws up 'Victoria wouldn't have done that.' Conversely, when she does something really well, we say 'good thing Victoria wasn't here, we'd still be screwed!') So anyway, Mary brought Victoria a catalog. I found a suit I wanted. It was way too expensive, but I really wanted it. Mary mentioned the website often has sales, so to check it regularly. I wanted to look last night but could not, for the life of me, remember the name of the company.
I came up with Sag Harbor, Newport News, L.L. Bean... but I knew those weren't the one I was looking for. So I gave up and was sitting on my couch, cuddling with Floyd, trying not to remember. Because when you try to remember you never can, right? So I had the guide up on the tv and was searching for something decent to watch when I saw "The Birds 2: something something." I was mildly intrigued, I never knew they made a sequel to "The Birds." So I looked back and actually read the title- it was "The Birds 2: Land's End." Holy Crap, Land's End was the name of the company I had been trying to think of for the past half an hour! WHAT ARE THE FREAKIN ODDS?!
So that happened yesterday... then today! Today was a weird day at work, we had a lot of foot traffic at the shop. Some days it's all phone, some days it's actually quiet and we get shit done, other days there's a yahoo coming in the door every other second. Today was a yahoo day. We have a bunch of windows in the front of the shop so we watch people pull in and try to figure out who they are before they even get out of their car. That way 1.) we can have their stuff ready, 2.) we can pretend we've got their stuff ready or 3.) one or more of us can run and hide. I'm mostly kidding about that last one. Mostly. So this dude in a mini van with New York plates pulls in and he's rummaging around in the back of the van for like 10 minutes before he comes into the shop, Mary's husband J.J. (again, not his name- but dude loves Jimmy Johns subs, and we talked about it today) said "It's probably someone selling steaks out of the back of their car."
Actually it was a salesman who had a meeting scheduled for tomorrow but was in town today, so he stopped out. As the real salesman was finishing up his meeting with J.J., an old dude walked in the door with a red polo shirt on and asked me, "Is anyone here in need of some good meat? I've got some great steaks available." We all kind of looked at each other then I said, "Nope I think we're good." He shrugged then turned and left. I looked at them and said "Did that really just happen?"
No really, did that just happen?
About a year ago, I was talking with my co-workers about death and dying. My question was, who was the first person to die? And what did his/her people do with him/her? When did we start burying our dead? Who came up with that crazy idea? I just kept asking unanswerable questions. Finally I gave up, we didn't know. Not twenty minutes later, the phone rang. I picked up the cordless phone and read the caller I.D. readout- it said "Saint Peter." It was actually a Catholic church, Saints Peter & Paul, but I did not answer that call. No way, no how. I wasn't ready to meet Saint Peter.
That was a good one, but it was a while ago- I've actually had two other Cosmic Coincidences in the last 24 hours.
The first was yesterday. Since I'm in a bathing suit so much of the summer (last summer excluded because it SUCKED) I generally try to buy nice suits. I also wear the same suit for like 7 years because 1.) I love it and 2.) I paid too much for it. My boss Mary (her name's not really Mary, she just tells sales people who call and annoy her that her name's Mary after she's rude to them. It's pretty funny actually), brought a catalog to work so my co-worker Victoria could check it out. (She's not really Victoria either- Victoria is a girl that sent me a really good resume, so we tease our girl when she screws up 'Victoria wouldn't have done that.' Conversely, when she does something really well, we say 'good thing Victoria wasn't here, we'd still be screwed!') So anyway, Mary brought Victoria a catalog. I found a suit I wanted. It was way too expensive, but I really wanted it. Mary mentioned the website often has sales, so to check it regularly. I wanted to look last night but could not, for the life of me, remember the name of the company.
I came up with Sag Harbor, Newport News, L.L. Bean... but I knew those weren't the one I was looking for. So I gave up and was sitting on my couch, cuddling with Floyd, trying not to remember. Because when you try to remember you never can, right? So I had the guide up on the tv and was searching for something decent to watch when I saw "The Birds 2: something something." I was mildly intrigued, I never knew they made a sequel to "The Birds." So I looked back and actually read the title- it was "The Birds 2: Land's End." Holy Crap, Land's End was the name of the company I had been trying to think of for the past half an hour! WHAT ARE THE FREAKIN ODDS?!
So that happened yesterday... then today! Today was a weird day at work, we had a lot of foot traffic at the shop. Some days it's all phone, some days it's actually quiet and we get shit done, other days there's a yahoo coming in the door every other second. Today was a yahoo day. We have a bunch of windows in the front of the shop so we watch people pull in and try to figure out who they are before they even get out of their car. That way 1.) we can have their stuff ready, 2.) we can pretend we've got their stuff ready or 3.) one or more of us can run and hide. I'm mostly kidding about that last one. Mostly. So this dude in a mini van with New York plates pulls in and he's rummaging around in the back of the van for like 10 minutes before he comes into the shop, Mary's husband J.J. (again, not his name- but dude loves Jimmy Johns subs, and we talked about it today) said "It's probably someone selling steaks out of the back of their car."
Actually it was a salesman who had a meeting scheduled for tomorrow but was in town today, so he stopped out. As the real salesman was finishing up his meeting with J.J., an old dude walked in the door with a red polo shirt on and asked me, "Is anyone here in need of some good meat? I've got some great steaks available." We all kind of looked at each other then I said, "Nope I think we're good." He shrugged then turned and left. I looked at them and said "Did that really just happen?"
No really, did that just happen?
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Karma
Have you ever gotten that sick feeling when you've lost something you can't afford to replace? Definitely had that this weekend. Let me set the scene- I was visiting my engaged friends Bubble Gum and D-Man at their camper. Apparently the thing to do is go racing around in golf carts in the "Back 40" some uncleared land behind the campground. So here we were, it's dark, we're the only ones in the Back 40, there's a storm coming up- wind, lightning, the whole works- and I realize I had lost something. Yeah, D-Man and I lost Bubble Gum.
Now I've known Bubble Gum since high school- we figure we met New Years Eve 2001. Since then we've had our ups, downs and all arounds but here we are, almost 10 years later still friends. I'm even going to be a bridesmaid in the wedding. Or at least I was until the debacle this weekend!
So here's what happened- we had gone out in the golf cart earlier in the evening and all was fine. We went back to the camper, got a few snacks then chilled by their neighbors bonfire until it got dark. Once it was dark, we headed toward the Back 40. One of the last camp sites before the Back 40 belongs to D-Man & Bubble Gum's friends, so we stopped to chat for a few minutes before heading out again.
We had no sooner gotten in the golf cart to leave when Bubble Gum told us she had to pee. So we went til we were out of sight of the campers and D-Man stopped. Bubble Gum got off the back of the golf cart and began walking and singing her way down the trail to pee in privacy. She'd gone about 15 feet when I turned to D-Man and said "Lets leave her!" We were going to pull up the trail a few feet, have a good chuckle then swing back to get her. You know what they say about the best laid plans... well this one wasn't well laid at all.
We waited until she stopped before we took off, what we couldn't see though was the big mud puddle just ahead of our headlights. If D-Man had stopped we would have gotten stuck, so we powered through. Then there was another puddle, we made it through that one too. Then there was the mother ship of all mud puddles. We didn't make it through that one. We looked at each other and both said "Karma!" By this time I know Bubble Gum is PISSED so I jump off the golf cart and start pushing, yelling at D-Man to "Floor it!" I sank up to my ankles in swampy sewage-y smelling mud, I banged my head when I jumped back on the golf cart and I was pretty sure I was going to be out of the wedding at this point. Little did I know, it hadn't even gotten good yet.
We circle around back to where we had left Bubble Gum and WE CAN'T FIND HER. We had an Oh Shit Moment before we both started frantically yelling her name. After about 5 minutes of driving around, searching, yelling and still no Bubble Gum we decided to head back to their friend campsite 1.) to see if she was there and 2.) to recruit help if need be. When we pulled up she wasn't there, they said they hadn't seen her, the wished us luck and kept drinking beer by the fire. I was like "hey, thanks for all your help!" So the search continued. Neither of us had our phones, we didn't want to lose something that important in the Back 40. Huh, imagine that.
So at this point, I'm getting really worried. We see headlights coming up to us, one of their friends Uncle Jimmy came out to help with the search. Uncle Jimmy had his phone, so D-Man used it to call Bubble Gum... no answer. We both drive around for another minute or so when I start thinking like Bubble Gum. Love the girl to death, but she's a little on the sneaky side. So I told D-Man to drop me off at the edge of the woods, I was going to run down to the campsite and see if Bubble Gum was hiding out. He was going to circle around then come get me and keep searching if she wasn't. So here I am sneaking through the woods in my stinking, muddy, squishy tennis shoes trying to find my lost friend. I walk out of the woods, across a little clearing and down the hill to the camp site when I see the little jerk face put her beer down, jump out of a chair and run behind the camper.
She had been there the whole time. Apparently when we took off she fell over, in the mud. Her exact words were "I saw red!" That means we were in big BIG trouble. Then she RAN through the woods to the campsite. Uncle Jimmy was in on it the whole time. He just came out to laugh at D-Man and I. When he saw me jump off the golf cart, he turned his lights off and followed me. So about the time I was approaching the campsite, he was behind me flashing his lights warning Bubble Gum that we were coming.
So I hitch a ride with Uncle Jimmy and we head out to the Back 40 to find D-Man. When we get back to the campsite, everyone's laughing, but Bubble Gum still hadn't come out of hiding. Then we heard the golf cart start up. D-Man had left the keys in it, so Bubble Gum jumped on and took off- leaving us, oh about half a mile from their camper. As she pulled away, her brown hair flowing in the wind, her evil cackling laugh echoed back to us. We were screwed. And I was definitely out of the wedding.
So what started out as an innocent little prank went horribly wrong. Turned out the joke was on us the whole time. Uncle Jimmy let us hitch a ride to the other side of the park when he realized we were going to hoof it. We ended up finding Bubble Gum hanging out at another friends bonfire about halfway back to their camper. We laughed, we cried, eventually we made up. I'm back in the wedding at least, but I'm pretty sure she's sticking me with the short groomsman.
So the morals of the story are 1.) don't leave your friend in the middle of the woods and 2.) don't ever underestimate the sneaky-ness of a pissed off girl with a muddy butt.
Now I've known Bubble Gum since high school- we figure we met New Years Eve 2001. Since then we've had our ups, downs and all arounds but here we are, almost 10 years later still friends. I'm even going to be a bridesmaid in the wedding. Or at least I was until the debacle this weekend!
So here's what happened- we had gone out in the golf cart earlier in the evening and all was fine. We went back to the camper, got a few snacks then chilled by their neighbors bonfire until it got dark. Once it was dark, we headed toward the Back 40. One of the last camp sites before the Back 40 belongs to D-Man & Bubble Gum's friends, so we stopped to chat for a few minutes before heading out again.
We had no sooner gotten in the golf cart to leave when Bubble Gum told us she had to pee. So we went til we were out of sight of the campers and D-Man stopped. Bubble Gum got off the back of the golf cart and began walking and singing her way down the trail to pee in privacy. She'd gone about 15 feet when I turned to D-Man and said "Lets leave her!" We were going to pull up the trail a few feet, have a good chuckle then swing back to get her. You know what they say about the best laid plans... well this one wasn't well laid at all.
We waited until she stopped before we took off, what we couldn't see though was the big mud puddle just ahead of our headlights. If D-Man had stopped we would have gotten stuck, so we powered through. Then there was another puddle, we made it through that one too. Then there was the mother ship of all mud puddles. We didn't make it through that one. We looked at each other and both said "Karma!" By this time I know Bubble Gum is PISSED so I jump off the golf cart and start pushing, yelling at D-Man to "Floor it!" I sank up to my ankles in swampy sewage-y smelling mud, I banged my head when I jumped back on the golf cart and I was pretty sure I was going to be out of the wedding at this point. Little did I know, it hadn't even gotten good yet.
We circle around back to where we had left Bubble Gum and WE CAN'T FIND HER. We had an Oh Shit Moment before we both started frantically yelling her name. After about 5 minutes of driving around, searching, yelling and still no Bubble Gum we decided to head back to their friend campsite 1.) to see if she was there and 2.) to recruit help if need be. When we pulled up she wasn't there, they said they hadn't seen her, the wished us luck and kept drinking beer by the fire. I was like "hey, thanks for all your help!" So the search continued. Neither of us had our phones, we didn't want to lose something that important in the Back 40. Huh, imagine that.
So at this point, I'm getting really worried. We see headlights coming up to us, one of their friends Uncle Jimmy came out to help with the search. Uncle Jimmy had his phone, so D-Man used it to call Bubble Gum... no answer. We both drive around for another minute or so when I start thinking like Bubble Gum. Love the girl to death, but she's a little on the sneaky side. So I told D-Man to drop me off at the edge of the woods, I was going to run down to the campsite and see if Bubble Gum was hiding out. He was going to circle around then come get me and keep searching if she wasn't. So here I am sneaking through the woods in my stinking, muddy, squishy tennis shoes trying to find my lost friend. I walk out of the woods, across a little clearing and down the hill to the camp site when I see the little jerk face put her beer down, jump out of a chair and run behind the camper.
She had been there the whole time. Apparently when we took off she fell over, in the mud. Her exact words were "I saw red!" That means we were in big BIG trouble. Then she RAN through the woods to the campsite. Uncle Jimmy was in on it the whole time. He just came out to laugh at D-Man and I. When he saw me jump off the golf cart, he turned his lights off and followed me. So about the time I was approaching the campsite, he was behind me flashing his lights warning Bubble Gum that we were coming.
So I hitch a ride with Uncle Jimmy and we head out to the Back 40 to find D-Man. When we get back to the campsite, everyone's laughing, but Bubble Gum still hadn't come out of hiding. Then we heard the golf cart start up. D-Man had left the keys in it, so Bubble Gum jumped on and took off- leaving us, oh about half a mile from their camper. As she pulled away, her brown hair flowing in the wind, her evil cackling laugh echoed back to us. We were screwed. And I was definitely out of the wedding.
So what started out as an innocent little prank went horribly wrong. Turned out the joke was on us the whole time. Uncle Jimmy let us hitch a ride to the other side of the park when he realized we were going to hoof it. We ended up finding Bubble Gum hanging out at another friends bonfire about halfway back to their camper. We laughed, we cried, eventually we made up. I'm back in the wedding at least, but I'm pretty sure she's sticking me with the short groomsman.
So the morals of the story are 1.) don't leave your friend in the middle of the woods and 2.) don't ever underestimate the sneaky-ness of a pissed off girl with a muddy butt.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Tick Magnet
Until we had Floyd, I had never even seen a tick. I mean I knew what it was as soon as I saw one- but I'd never had an up close and personal encounter with a tick before ol F-Bomb. Now it's an almost daily occurrence.
Last summer the boys went through a paintball kick. They would go in the Christmas tree field behind our place and play for hours. I would sit on my back porch with a book and a glass of wine and laugh at the girlie shrieks and cries of pain echoing out of the woods "OWWWWWWWWWW!" "Dammit!" "Enough already!" Hilarious. Eventually they would all wander out of the woods, hot, sweaty and covered in paint. One evening, I finished my wine and decided to swing by the garage to say hello and make fun of them for being pansy's and yelling "ow" so many times. What I saw however, was a bunch of half naked men picking ticks off each other. These were kids I'd known practically forever so there wasn't much embarrassment about me seeing them in their under-roos. Then one of the boneheads asked why I didn't play. My answer? "Who's going to pick ticks off me?" Yeah, still haven't played paintball.
So last night I fell asleep with the door for my room open. I woke up to the sound of someone or something in my room. I sat up super fast, ready for anything. All I succeeded in doing was scaring the crap out of my poor dog who just wanted to come cuddle with me. Well this morning I woke up with an itch on my belly. Half asleep I rolled over just enough to scratch it. It was a FREAKING TICK crawling on me. Can you tell me a worse way to wake up in the morning than by finding a tick on you? Yeah, there aren't many. My friend Lenny is a vet tech and says this is just a really bad year for ticks.
Well, her name isn't really Lenny. I just call her that after the character from Of Mice and Men. You know, the one that kills the mouse, the puppy and the woman because they are so soft and he just loves them too much? Yeah. We also have a friend I call Darla from Finding Nemo- the girl who was so excited to have a fish she shakes the hell out of the bag yelling "FISHY FISHY FISHY" and eventually kills the fish? Yup, those'r my friends.
So anyway, thanks to my Tick Magnet, I've gotten more intimate knowledge of ticks than I ever wanted or needed. Hands down, the worst part of owning a dog is picking ticks off him. The best part of owning a dog is my brother is also half owner- so I make him pick the ticks off. Its good for him, builds character.
Last summer the boys went through a paintball kick. They would go in the Christmas tree field behind our place and play for hours. I would sit on my back porch with a book and a glass of wine and laugh at the girlie shrieks and cries of pain echoing out of the woods "OWWWWWWWWWW!" "Dammit!" "Enough already!" Hilarious. Eventually they would all wander out of the woods, hot, sweaty and covered in paint. One evening, I finished my wine and decided to swing by the garage to say hello and make fun of them for being pansy's and yelling "ow" so many times. What I saw however, was a bunch of half naked men picking ticks off each other. These were kids I'd known practically forever so there wasn't much embarrassment about me seeing them in their under-roos. Then one of the boneheads asked why I didn't play. My answer? "Who's going to pick ticks off me?" Yeah, still haven't played paintball.
So last night I fell asleep with the door for my room open. I woke up to the sound of someone or something in my room. I sat up super fast, ready for anything. All I succeeded in doing was scaring the crap out of my poor dog who just wanted to come cuddle with me. Well this morning I woke up with an itch on my belly. Half asleep I rolled over just enough to scratch it. It was a FREAKING TICK crawling on me. Can you tell me a worse way to wake up in the morning than by finding a tick on you? Yeah, there aren't many. My friend Lenny is a vet tech and says this is just a really bad year for ticks.
Well, her name isn't really Lenny. I just call her that after the character from Of Mice and Men. You know, the one that kills the mouse, the puppy and the woman because they are so soft and he just loves them too much? Yeah. We also have a friend I call Darla from Finding Nemo- the girl who was so excited to have a fish she shakes the hell out of the bag yelling "FISHY FISHY FISHY" and eventually kills the fish? Yup, those'r my friends.
So anyway, thanks to my Tick Magnet, I've gotten more intimate knowledge of ticks than I ever wanted or needed. Hands down, the worst part of owning a dog is picking ticks off him. The best part of owning a dog is my brother is also half owner- so I make him pick the ticks off. Its good for him, builds character.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!
This shouldn't bother me, but it does. So I'm going to write about it- it's what I do.
Bro and I live in a house we rent from our dad's dad. We've been trying since last fall to get our bathroom re-done, for various reasons it just hasn't happened. So Grandpa tells me his friends son is a carpenter and can do the work. Great! So Monday Grandpa brings over Handyman Brad. Handyman Brad is a CREEPER and a drunk. No, really. He called to set up a time to come install my front door and literally said, "You'll have to forgive me, I'm a little buzzed." NICE. But whatever, I don't have to deal with him... Grandpa does.
So I've got at least one drunk coming to my house (I definitely locked my bedroom door and advised Bro to do the same) to work on my front and back doors and a dog that is notorious for sneaking out. So I took Floyd to Doggie Daycare. That's right, Grandma's house. We went over last night for a little while to visit and set up his run. I also wanted Gram to practice putting Floyd on and off his lead, because while he's gentle and loving- he's also a clumsy blockhead and has almost knocked me down a time or two and I'm not 82. Oh, wait, it's 78- she started counting backwards once she hit 80. I'm going to get hit for those last two sentences, I know it!
ANYWAY, Gram and Floyd got to hang out today. He was, according to the babysitter, Very Good. My only two concerns with the whole situation were 1.) Floyd would eat Gram's cat or 2.) he would somehow knock her over/yank on her with the leash. But all was well. Gram said he would lay on the couch, then come sit with her awhile, then go look out the door. Floyd likes looking out the front windows and door to watch the traffic go by- he doesn't get a lot of that at our house...
When I came over after work, everything was fine so Gram and I went and got dinner at the steak place in town. It was either that or Bob Evans, but steak and sweet potatoes won. When we got back, my uncle was at Gram's house. When we got out he said, "I met your dog!" We had left Floyd in the garage, not really thinking that Uncle might come around, we didn't lock the garage door- or warn him the dog was in there. Luckily, Floyd just ran out, peed and came back to Uncle. I say "luckily" because the little pecker head has taken off on both Bro and me in the past.
I didn't realize but my Uncles daughter, my 10 year old cousin was in Gram's house with a friend of hers. Floyd has never, since his recorded history started at the Humane Society anyway, been around kids. Now 10 is different than 3 so I wasn't really concerned. He probably just thought she was a runt. When Floyd, Gram, Uncle and I walked in the first thing Runt said was "when we opened the garage door he growled at us!"
Now I'm about the most realistic person I know. I know no one is perfect- and you never really know what anyone - or anything- is capable of. So it's entirely possible that my dog growled at my cousin. I mean he was in a new place and they probably scared each other- he wasn't expecting a Runt to come running in the garage, and she wasn't expecting a dog to be in the garage- let alone a pit bull. And even though we've had Floyd for 4 months (well it will be 4 months on the 2nd) Runt had never met him.
But I've got a pretty good handle on my dog. And on Runt. She's a good kid for the most part- but most of our family members have caught her in bold faced lies. I mean, I lied as a kid, but generally it was to save my own tail- not just to cause drama. And I have never heard Floyd growl since we've had him. Bark, burp, fart, whine, whimper, yip, yelp- yes. Growl, no. (No I don't beat my dog- he's just a baby and thinks the world is ending if I leave him outside 1 second longer than he wants to be left out- hence the whining, whimpering, yipping and yelping.)
Gram and Uncle shut Runt down pretty quick though. Gram said, "oh I don't think he would growl." And Uncle said, "this is what he did when he met me," Floyd was licking his hand. Then Runt said it. The words that ticked me off. "Well, he is a pit bull."
And you my dear are a Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire.
A few seconds after that, she was down on the floor playing with Floyd- which totally affirmed my suspicion that she had been lying. When I was 10, if a dog had growled at me I would have left it the heck alone! Not gotten on the floor to play with it. Logically I know I should take the whole thing with a grain of salt- Runt is 10, she's a notorious liar/drama queen, she had a captive audience and a ready made 'villain'. A better scene could not have been set if she asked for it.
But it still ticks me off. If he wasn't a pit, if he was a regular old mutt we'd picked up at the pound- this never would have been an issue. It never would have happened. It's the old pit bull/ evil dog stereotype.
Bro and I both do what we can to show people that Floyd is a good dog. All 50 goofy, clutzy, silly, spazy, sleepy, farty, snuggly pounds of him.
Bro and I live in a house we rent from our dad's dad. We've been trying since last fall to get our bathroom re-done, for various reasons it just hasn't happened. So Grandpa tells me his friends son is a carpenter and can do the work. Great! So Monday Grandpa brings over Handyman Brad. Handyman Brad is a CREEPER and a drunk. No, really. He called to set up a time to come install my front door and literally said, "You'll have to forgive me, I'm a little buzzed." NICE. But whatever, I don't have to deal with him... Grandpa does.
So I've got at least one drunk coming to my house (I definitely locked my bedroom door and advised Bro to do the same) to work on my front and back doors and a dog that is notorious for sneaking out. So I took Floyd to Doggie Daycare. That's right, Grandma's house. We went over last night for a little while to visit and set up his run. I also wanted Gram to practice putting Floyd on and off his lead, because while he's gentle and loving- he's also a clumsy blockhead and has almost knocked me down a time or two and I'm not 82. Oh, wait, it's 78- she started counting backwards once she hit 80. I'm going to get hit for those last two sentences, I know it!
ANYWAY, Gram and Floyd got to hang out today. He was, according to the babysitter, Very Good. My only two concerns with the whole situation were 1.) Floyd would eat Gram's cat or 2.) he would somehow knock her over/yank on her with the leash. But all was well. Gram said he would lay on the couch, then come sit with her awhile, then go look out the door. Floyd likes looking out the front windows and door to watch the traffic go by- he doesn't get a lot of that at our house...
When I came over after work, everything was fine so Gram and I went and got dinner at the steak place in town. It was either that or Bob Evans, but steak and sweet potatoes won. When we got back, my uncle was at Gram's house. When we got out he said, "I met your dog!" We had left Floyd in the garage, not really thinking that Uncle might come around, we didn't lock the garage door- or warn him the dog was in there. Luckily, Floyd just ran out, peed and came back to Uncle. I say "luckily" because the little pecker head has taken off on both Bro and me in the past.
I didn't realize but my Uncles daughter, my 10 year old cousin was in Gram's house with a friend of hers. Floyd has never, since his recorded history started at the Humane Society anyway, been around kids. Now 10 is different than 3 so I wasn't really concerned. He probably just thought she was a runt. When Floyd, Gram, Uncle and I walked in the first thing Runt said was "when we opened the garage door he growled at us!"
Now I'm about the most realistic person I know. I know no one is perfect- and you never really know what anyone - or anything- is capable of. So it's entirely possible that my dog growled at my cousin. I mean he was in a new place and they probably scared each other- he wasn't expecting a Runt to come running in the garage, and she wasn't expecting a dog to be in the garage- let alone a pit bull. And even though we've had Floyd for 4 months (well it will be 4 months on the 2nd) Runt had never met him.
But I've got a pretty good handle on my dog. And on Runt. She's a good kid for the most part- but most of our family members have caught her in bold faced lies. I mean, I lied as a kid, but generally it was to save my own tail- not just to cause drama. And I have never heard Floyd growl since we've had him. Bark, burp, fart, whine, whimper, yip, yelp- yes. Growl, no. (No I don't beat my dog- he's just a baby and thinks the world is ending if I leave him outside 1 second longer than he wants to be left out- hence the whining, whimpering, yipping and yelping.)
Gram and Uncle shut Runt down pretty quick though. Gram said, "oh I don't think he would growl." And Uncle said, "this is what he did when he met me," Floyd was licking his hand. Then Runt said it. The words that ticked me off. "Well, he is a pit bull."
And you my dear are a Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire.
A few seconds after that, she was down on the floor playing with Floyd- which totally affirmed my suspicion that she had been lying. When I was 10, if a dog had growled at me I would have left it the heck alone! Not gotten on the floor to play with it. Logically I know I should take the whole thing with a grain of salt- Runt is 10, she's a notorious liar/drama queen, she had a captive audience and a ready made 'villain'. A better scene could not have been set if she asked for it.
But it still ticks me off. If he wasn't a pit, if he was a regular old mutt we'd picked up at the pound- this never would have been an issue. It never would have happened. It's the old pit bull/ evil dog stereotype.
Bro and I both do what we can to show people that Floyd is a good dog. All 50 goofy, clutzy, silly, spazy, sleepy, farty, snuggly pounds of him.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Creeper Police, where are you?
I've been at my current job 2 years now, sometimes it feels like I started only yesterday, sometimes it feels like I've never done anything else. After 2 years, we share too many inside jokes and nicknames (for ourselves and others). For instance, the other day I worked on Perry Ellis's car all day, only taking time out to talk with Dickie Doo and Pizza Boy. Perry Ellis is so named because I told him he smelled good one day, he puffed out his chest, stuck up his chin and said, "it's Perry Ellis." Dickie Doo is Dickie Doo because we couldn't remember his name- it just stuck. And Pizza Boy isn't that hard to figure out. Except there is only one Pizza Boy, but others can be refered to as Pizza Boys. It's confusing, but we understand. It's almost a second language. One nickname we've come up with that has helped us a number of times is the Creeper Police, or CP.
One of our customers, Phil, decided he wanted a badge on his car, not exactly like a police officer, but of that idea. While we were dealing with him, another customer came in, a real creeper. So the joke was we needed Phil to be our Creeper Police. Since then, when there's a total creep we warn each other by saying something about the CP.
I should have recruited the CP before yesterday, because boy do I need them. Yesterday, I joined match.com. I've kicked it around for awhile, but never taken the actual steps to get signed up. My profile has been up less than 24 hours and I'm already wondering what I got myself into.
So far, I have used the excuses "Sorry, I'm gonna go- I've got to go walk my dog," and "You look too much like my uncle, it would be weird for me to go out with you." I only said the uncle thing because the poor guy looked like Sloth from the Goonies. No, I don't have an uncle that looks like Sloth, but I doubt the guy would have appreciated my comparison. So I lied.
Like everything else in my life, if nothing else, match.com will be an interesting experience.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Holy Summer!
So I realized today that I have plans, big plans, for nearly every weekend this summer. Already. It's not even June.
Here is, more or less, my summer plans in chronological order: Kelly & Matt's wedding, Ness's birthday bash ( 5th anniversary of her 21st birthday), Anthony's HS grad part, Jessica's College grad part, wedding with Summer (her husband won't go, so I'm her date), Indy?, BROOKS N DUNN & GARY ALLEN w/ Ness @ Blossom, JIMMY BUFFETT in Pittsburgh, Steph's wedding shower, the 5th anniversary of my 21st birthday, Stephs bachelorette party... whooo boy. That's not even mentioning the summer staple events like camping, bonfires and floating at the pit. It's gonna be a good one folks!
Not gonna lie, most excited about Jimmy Buffett though. I've never seen him in concert, but I've been a huge fan for years! He has some of the best lyrics ever, I mean "The weather is here, wish you were beautiful. My beer's too cold, the daquairi too fruitiful." Come on! That's pure genius! My bff from highschool, Heather and I used to blast JB 24/7. If we weren't singing Cheeseburger in Paradise, something was wrong. Or we were sleeping.
I've even read his books. A Salty Piece of Land is probably my favorite. The best way I can describe a Jimmy Buffett book is, like taking a boat trip down a river. You're heading down the river in your boat, then you come to a fork so you head right. You go through some rapids and down a small waterfall. Now you're in a smaller river, more like a stream. Now it's a creek. The creek runs out and now you're going through a swamp. So you stop at a cabin in the swamp for some gumbo with a Cajun family, eat some crawfish, eat some gumbo then head out again. You keep going past the rock that looks like a gator, hang a left by the half sunk bouy, and somehow, miracuously, you're back on the same river you started out on. No kidding, that's how Jimmy Buffett tells a story. But it works for him.
The summer I graduated from highschool we went to Hawaii and got to eat at Cheesburger in Paradise. It was about the coolest thing ever.
When I worked in Florida, we went to Margaritaville in Orlando- LOVED IT! Got a t-shirt there that says TRESSPASSERS WILL BE offered a SHOT on the back.
Then, last summer my best friends from college and I took a long weekend and went to my aunt and uncles cottage on Lake Erie. On the way up I saw signs for 'The Original Margaritaville.' I was pretty excited, so we made plans to go for dinner one night. Turned out to be a cheesy Mexican restaurant. I was highly dissapointed.
But hands down, my favorite Buffett experience (thus far) was last fourth of July weekend. I was in my cousin Allisons wedding at the Science Center in downtown Cleveland. During the wedding I was on a first name basis with the bartender, so to say I was feelin no pain by the end of the night was kind of an understatement. When the reception ended, we went down to some bar that I can't remember the name of- I was even still rockin my sapphire blue bridesmaids dress! Well we got kicked out of that bar because one of the kids with us was too drunk to stand up. So we headed back to the Marriot downtown to drop off the pansy's that couldn't keep up. We were hanging out in the lobby, waiting for everyone to re-group so we could head back out, and being entertained by a man with a guitar.
There were about 20 random hotel guests gathered around him for an impromptu koombaiya session. I, being the supportive drunk I am, decided to start clapping and swaying to the music. I barely have rythm when I'm sober, forget about when I've had a few (and then a few more.) So the man finishes his song, I clap and probably hoot and/or holler. He asked me if I had any requests, so I call out "Cheeseburger in Paradise by Jimmy Buffett!" He replies, "I do not know this Buffett, I'm from Brazil." To which I reply, "YOU DON'T KNOW BUFFETT?!" Then he says the words I'm sure he now regrets, "Sing it, I will accompany you."
And that my friends, is how I came to sing/slur Jimmy Buffett's Cheeseburger in Paradise, wasted, in a sapphire blue bridesmaids dress at 1 oclock in the morning, to a lobby full of Marriot finest patrons, accompanied by a Brazillian on his guitar.
I know Jimmy would be proud.
Here is, more or less, my summer plans in chronological order: Kelly & Matt's wedding, Ness's birthday bash ( 5th anniversary of her 21st birthday), Anthony's HS grad part, Jessica's College grad part, wedding with Summer (her husband won't go, so I'm her date), Indy?, BROOKS N DUNN & GARY ALLEN w/ Ness @ Blossom, JIMMY BUFFETT in Pittsburgh, Steph's wedding shower, the 5th anniversary of my 21st birthday, Stephs bachelorette party... whooo boy. That's not even mentioning the summer staple events like camping, bonfires and floating at the pit. It's gonna be a good one folks!
Not gonna lie, most excited about Jimmy Buffett though. I've never seen him in concert, but I've been a huge fan for years! He has some of the best lyrics ever, I mean "The weather is here, wish you were beautiful. My beer's too cold, the daquairi too fruitiful." Come on! That's pure genius! My bff from highschool, Heather and I used to blast JB 24/7. If we weren't singing Cheeseburger in Paradise, something was wrong. Or we were sleeping.
I've even read his books. A Salty Piece of Land is probably my favorite. The best way I can describe a Jimmy Buffett book is, like taking a boat trip down a river. You're heading down the river in your boat, then you come to a fork so you head right. You go through some rapids and down a small waterfall. Now you're in a smaller river, more like a stream. Now it's a creek. The creek runs out and now you're going through a swamp. So you stop at a cabin in the swamp for some gumbo with a Cajun family, eat some crawfish, eat some gumbo then head out again. You keep going past the rock that looks like a gator, hang a left by the half sunk bouy, and somehow, miracuously, you're back on the same river you started out on. No kidding, that's how Jimmy Buffett tells a story. But it works for him.
The summer I graduated from highschool we went to Hawaii and got to eat at Cheesburger in Paradise. It was about the coolest thing ever.
When I worked in Florida, we went to Margaritaville in Orlando- LOVED IT! Got a t-shirt there that says TRESSPASSERS WILL BE offered a SHOT on the back.
Then, last summer my best friends from college and I took a long weekend and went to my aunt and uncles cottage on Lake Erie. On the way up I saw signs for 'The Original Margaritaville.' I was pretty excited, so we made plans to go for dinner one night. Turned out to be a cheesy Mexican restaurant. I was highly dissapointed.
But hands down, my favorite Buffett experience (thus far) was last fourth of July weekend. I was in my cousin Allisons wedding at the Science Center in downtown Cleveland. During the wedding I was on a first name basis with the bartender, so to say I was feelin no pain by the end of the night was kind of an understatement. When the reception ended, we went down to some bar that I can't remember the name of- I was even still rockin my sapphire blue bridesmaids dress! Well we got kicked out of that bar because one of the kids with us was too drunk to stand up. So we headed back to the Marriot downtown to drop off the pansy's that couldn't keep up. We were hanging out in the lobby, waiting for everyone to re-group so we could head back out, and being entertained by a man with a guitar.
There were about 20 random hotel guests gathered around him for an impromptu koombaiya session. I, being the supportive drunk I am, decided to start clapping and swaying to the music. I barely have rythm when I'm sober, forget about when I've had a few (and then a few more.) So the man finishes his song, I clap and probably hoot and/or holler. He asked me if I had any requests, so I call out "Cheeseburger in Paradise by Jimmy Buffett!" He replies, "I do not know this Buffett, I'm from Brazil." To which I reply, "YOU DON'T KNOW BUFFETT?!" Then he says the words I'm sure he now regrets, "Sing it, I will accompany you."
And that my friends, is how I came to sing/slur Jimmy Buffett's Cheeseburger in Paradise, wasted, in a sapphire blue bridesmaids dress at 1 oclock in the morning, to a lobby full of Marriot finest patrons, accompanied by a Brazillian on his guitar.
I know Jimmy would be proud.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
If I ruled...
If I ruled the universe, Karma would be measured in zits. If you are a good person, no zits. If you're an asshole, lots of zits. It only seems fair.
That way, 1.) You'd know the good eggs from the bad, and 2.) There would actually be some punishment for idiots who get away with murder, or those who don't wave when you let them into traffic. I HATE when people don't wave when I let them into traffic.
If karma was measured in zits, you'd think I robbed a bank, kicked a puppy, burned down a nursing home then went to snack time at the local KinderKare and ate all the rice crispy treats so the little kids went hungry. Yeah, it's that bad.
If you don't see me tomorrow, check my bed- I either OD'd on Clearasil or just refuse to come out from under the covers.
That way, 1.) You'd know the good eggs from the bad, and 2.) There would actually be some punishment for idiots who get away with murder, or those who don't wave when you let them into traffic. I HATE when people don't wave when I let them into traffic.
If karma was measured in zits, you'd think I robbed a bank, kicked a puppy, burned down a nursing home then went to snack time at the local KinderKare and ate all the rice crispy treats so the little kids went hungry. Yeah, it's that bad.
If you don't see me tomorrow, check my bed- I either OD'd on Clearasil or just refuse to come out from under the covers.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
I know Crazy
After yesterday's post, I feel the need to clarify a bit. My last boyfriend was crazy- certifiably crazy- but he hasn't been the only crazy in my life. In fact, I've encountered enough Crazy that it's now one of my 'rules.' The rules are actually my standards for dating someone- they're not that difficult.
1.) Must be taller than me
2.) Must not weigh less than me
3.) Does not work with me
4.) Can not be a Mama's boy
5.) Does not bring more craziness to my life than I bring to his.
See, not that tough. The first three were the original rules, the last two I added after bad experiences. Girls, if you're dude is a Mama's boy, don't walk, RUN away. TRUST ME.
And as far as Crazy, I think I'm a Crazy Magnet.
In no particular order, why I don't date Crazies anymore:
1.) In college I lived in the Townhomes, a notorious party location. We pretty much lived up to the expectations and had weekly parties. Flip Cup Fridays were a blast- but also resulted in a serious lack of judgement sometimes. One particular evening I decided my neighbor was pretty cute. He thought I was pretty cute too. One beer lead to another, and we decided to go to my room to watch a movie. It was all very PG, nothing big and exciting happened- which was great because I had a serious case of beer goggles. (Grandma, that's when someone looks cuter after about 6 beers than they do when you're sober. Not that alcohol has ever passed my lips. No Ma'am.) Anyhoo, we ended up falling asleep at some point during the movie. In the morning, I has half awake, realized 'Holy crap, he's still here!' and promptly rolled over and pretended I was still asleep. He leaned over me, kissed my shoulder and whispered "I love you" in my ear. I wish I was making this shit up. The joke was on him though, turns out while he was snoring in my bed, someone had broken into his room and stolen his tv and Play Station 2. Whoopsie. Maybe he shouldn't have been such a creeper.
2.) I was at the bar with some of my guy friends from one of the restaurants I was working in when we met up with one of their friends who I didn't know. By the end of the night he had asked me out. He wasn't really my type, I equate my type to a kid at Christmas- all this kid wants for Christmas is a red 10 speed bike- but when he wakes up Christmas morning, he finds a scientific calculator. This guy was definetly not a bike, he was a calculator. But hey, calculators are handy and good to have around, sure it's not as cool as a bike- but a bike can't balance your check book for you. So I went out with him. One night, we were sitting at the bar chatting with a friend of his who was asking me about myself. I told him I was trying to get an internship in either Montana or Texas (at the time, I was). My date piped up, "I've never been to Texas, but I've always wanted to go. Yeah, I could live in Texas." My first thought was, "Uh, I didn't ask you to go..." but I (for once) kept my mouth shut. A few minutes later the subject of kids came up. The friend had a son, and asked me if I wanted children. I said, "Yeah, I'd like 3 kids some day." My date kinda sat back in his chair, whistled through his teeth and said, "I'll have to work harder than I thought to support 3 kids, but it's doable." SAY WHAT?!?! We had been seeing each other 2 weeks. YEAH. Crazy. I attract it like flies to shit.
3.) I dated my ex for about 9 months. Turns out, he wasn't just a white trash loser, he was an ALCOHOLIC white trash loser. Yeah. Looking back, I equate it to finding a stray dog. A mean, beaten, sick, dirty little dog. I bring it in the house, clean it up and think I'll make a lap dog out of it. Some days I had a lap dog. Some days, I came downstairs to the trash torn up, poop on the floor and got bit in the ass. I had the best of intentions, but some dogs just don't want to be lap dogs. They're too used to being kicked everytime they turn around so the take to biting first, asking questions later. I was tired of being bit so I showed the dog the door. Unfortunatly, the dog was drunk and didn't want to leave. Instead of calling the cops, I called his dad. Eventually his dad got the dog out on the porch, so I took the opportunity to lock the front door and head out the back. I grabbed my keys, called home said "I'm coming up," peeked around the corner to see if I could get my car out- I couldn't, it was parked in. So I called my pops, told him to come pick me up that I'd be in a driveway up the street. I stealthily ran through my side yard to the road and headed north about 1/4 mile and stood at the end of a neighbors driveway until Pops came to pick me up. He made the 2o+ minute drive in less than 15. At somepoint Mom had called Bro who called me, heard the story, then called the police. Long story short- Pops showed up, the dog left, Bro & Girl showed up, Cops didn't. Good thing I didn't really need them!
3 months later, I've only had him threaten suicide, tell me he was dying in a multitude of different ways, had someone from his family tell me he HAD died... it's been fun. I've only had to threaten a restraining order, block two phone numbers and an e-mail account of his to get him to leave me alone. Did I mention he was Crazy?
I just don't get it- I know I'm pretty awesome, but I don't think I'm cool enough to go crazy over.
Who knew?
1.) Must be taller than me
2.) Must not weigh less than me
3.) Does not work with me
4.) Can not be a Mama's boy
5.) Does not bring more craziness to my life than I bring to his.
See, not that tough. The first three were the original rules, the last two I added after bad experiences. Girls, if you're dude is a Mama's boy, don't walk, RUN away. TRUST ME.
And as far as Crazy, I think I'm a Crazy Magnet.
In no particular order, why I don't date Crazies anymore:
1.) In college I lived in the Townhomes, a notorious party location. We pretty much lived up to the expectations and had weekly parties. Flip Cup Fridays were a blast- but also resulted in a serious lack of judgement sometimes. One particular evening I decided my neighbor was pretty cute. He thought I was pretty cute too. One beer lead to another, and we decided to go to my room to watch a movie. It was all very PG, nothing big and exciting happened- which was great because I had a serious case of beer goggles. (Grandma, that's when someone looks cuter after about 6 beers than they do when you're sober. Not that alcohol has ever passed my lips. No Ma'am.) Anyhoo, we ended up falling asleep at some point during the movie. In the morning, I has half awake, realized 'Holy crap, he's still here!' and promptly rolled over and pretended I was still asleep. He leaned over me, kissed my shoulder and whispered "I love you" in my ear. I wish I was making this shit up. The joke was on him though, turns out while he was snoring in my bed, someone had broken into his room and stolen his tv and Play Station 2. Whoopsie. Maybe he shouldn't have been such a creeper.
2.) I was at the bar with some of my guy friends from one of the restaurants I was working in when we met up with one of their friends who I didn't know. By the end of the night he had asked me out. He wasn't really my type, I equate my type to a kid at Christmas- all this kid wants for Christmas is a red 10 speed bike- but when he wakes up Christmas morning, he finds a scientific calculator. This guy was definetly not a bike, he was a calculator. But hey, calculators are handy and good to have around, sure it's not as cool as a bike- but a bike can't balance your check book for you. So I went out with him. One night, we were sitting at the bar chatting with a friend of his who was asking me about myself. I told him I was trying to get an internship in either Montana or Texas (at the time, I was). My date piped up, "I've never been to Texas, but I've always wanted to go. Yeah, I could live in Texas." My first thought was, "Uh, I didn't ask you to go..." but I (for once) kept my mouth shut. A few minutes later the subject of kids came up. The friend had a son, and asked me if I wanted children. I said, "Yeah, I'd like 3 kids some day." My date kinda sat back in his chair, whistled through his teeth and said, "I'll have to work harder than I thought to support 3 kids, but it's doable." SAY WHAT?!?! We had been seeing each other 2 weeks. YEAH. Crazy. I attract it like flies to shit.
3.) I dated my ex for about 9 months. Turns out, he wasn't just a white trash loser, he was an ALCOHOLIC white trash loser. Yeah. Looking back, I equate it to finding a stray dog. A mean, beaten, sick, dirty little dog. I bring it in the house, clean it up and think I'll make a lap dog out of it. Some days I had a lap dog. Some days, I came downstairs to the trash torn up, poop on the floor and got bit in the ass. I had the best of intentions, but some dogs just don't want to be lap dogs. They're too used to being kicked everytime they turn around so the take to biting first, asking questions later. I was tired of being bit so I showed the dog the door. Unfortunatly, the dog was drunk and didn't want to leave. Instead of calling the cops, I called his dad. Eventually his dad got the dog out on the porch, so I took the opportunity to lock the front door and head out the back. I grabbed my keys, called home said "I'm coming up," peeked around the corner to see if I could get my car out- I couldn't, it was parked in. So I called my pops, told him to come pick me up that I'd be in a driveway up the street. I stealthily ran through my side yard to the road and headed north about 1/4 mile and stood at the end of a neighbors driveway until Pops came to pick me up. He made the 2o+ minute drive in less than 15. At somepoint Mom had called Bro who called me, heard the story, then called the police. Long story short- Pops showed up, the dog left, Bro & Girl showed up, Cops didn't. Good thing I didn't really need them!
3 months later, I've only had him threaten suicide, tell me he was dying in a multitude of different ways, had someone from his family tell me he HAD died... it's been fun. I've only had to threaten a restraining order, block two phone numbers and an e-mail account of his to get him to leave me alone. Did I mention he was Crazy?
I just don't get it- I know I'm pretty awesome, but I don't think I'm cool enough to go crazy over.
Who knew?
Monday, May 10, 2010
Love or Money?
So on my way into work this morning the David Nail song Red Light came on the radio. It's about a guy going for a ride with his girl and at a red light she breaks up with him out of nowhere. Now either the writer had an active imagination, or it actually happened to him. If it happened to him, he went home, poured out his poor broken heart and wrote a song. Then the song sold a ton of copies and now he's a millionaire. So my question is, would he rather have kept his love and his ordinary life, or been dumped, written a song and made a million bucks???
Personally, I would have written the song. But if I would have written it, it wouldn't be some broken hearted country song. My failed love story song would be something along these lines,
Hey you, what's new?
Out celebratin the single life,
how bout you?
Yeah baby, me too.
You leave him or he leave you?
Do you see me cryin?
Ha if he walked in right now,
what would you do?
I'd say 'sorry you're crazy,
sorry you're lazy,
sorry you're out of your mind.
Yeah we were together for awhile
started out as a real good time
One day I woke up n realized
just how far you'd drug me down.
So I kicked ya to the curb
and headed to town
callin over my shoulder,
Sorry you're crazy,
sorry you're lazy,
sorry you couldn't buy a clue-
Dude, I'm so over you!
Copyright Echo 2010
Personally, I would have written the song. But if I would have written it, it wouldn't be some broken hearted country song. My failed love story song would be something along these lines,
Hey you, what's new?
Out celebratin the single life,
how bout you?
Yeah baby, me too.
You leave him or he leave you?
Do you see me cryin?
Ha if he walked in right now,
what would you do?
I'd say 'sorry you're crazy,
sorry you're lazy,
sorry you're out of your mind.
Yeah we were together for awhile
started out as a real good time
One day I woke up n realized
just how far you'd drug me down.
So I kicked ya to the curb
and headed to town
callin over my shoulder,
Sorry you're crazy,
sorry you're lazy,
sorry you couldn't buy a clue-
Dude, I'm so over you!
Copyright Echo 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
In with the new!
So I've come to realize, it's a heck of a lot easier kicking a 50 pound snoring dog out of bed than kicking a 250 pound snoring man out of bed. If I have to sleep with a snorer, I prefer the canine variety. When we first brought Floyd home, February 2, 2010, I tentatively broached the subject I was nervous about, "So, uh, he's gonna sleep with you, right?" I asked Bro. He looked at me, his eyes got wide and he was like, "I thought for sure you'd want him to sleep with you!" "No way! I just got my bed back to myself, I'm not ready to share yet!" So the first few nights the boys bunked together and I sprawled out, loving the peace, quiet and ample leg room in my queen sized bed. THat weekend Bro went to Girls house, so I (somewhat reluctantly) let Floyd-o sleep with me. We had a little power struggle at first. No Floyd, you do not get the pillow. No Floyd, you do not get under the covers. Really? Floyd, must you sleep in the middle of the bed? Once we worked out that the bottom third, from the duvet cover uo was Floyd Territory, everything went smoothly. Ever since, we basically share him at night. The few nights a week when we're both home, Floyd chooses who he wants to sleep with based on who goes to bed closest to the time Floyd is ready for bed. He's pathetic. We're pathetic for letting him rule us like we do. But, what can I say? We love him.
I didn't realize he acted differently with Bro in the mornings than he did with me, until one moring Bro came downstairs laughing. He said, "when he wakes up he's ready to play, he just wants to play and rip around." I laughed and said, "really? because when he sleeps with me I tell him 'time to get up,' he skooches up the bed and snuggles next to me almost like saying 'just 5 more minutes.' I literally wake up early to cuddle with Floyd before getting ready for work. Now, that being said- do I seem like the type of girl to sleep with, let alone wake up early to cuddle a blood thirsty killing machine? I know some of you odn't know me all that well- but no. I am not that type of girl. And yeah, I've heard it said, it's not the pitbull in general- it's all how they're raised. If they're raised in a kind loving home, they'll be kind, loving dogs. Well Curve Ball for ya- we adopted Floyd at 2 1/2 years old. He had been abused. The people at the shelter, where he had been for almost a year, could only tell us he was picked up with 3 other dogs because they had no food, no water and deep lacerations. You should see the scars on my poor boy. Girl calls him Scar Face. And still, he has the capacity to trust us, learn from us, to love us. That is why we adopted a pitbull.
**Note the teal green leather chair...
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Out with the old...
The night after I broke up with my first serious boyfriend- who happened to be the biggest loser on the face of the earth (can I pick em or what?)- my family was headed up to Cleveland to see Ron White. He's one of the Blue Collar Comedy guys and he's pretty freakin hilarious. Anyway, we were in the car on the way up and Bro mentioned that his Girlfriend had gotten an e-mail about an abused pitbull that needed a home. It said 'his name is Buddy, he's had a hard life, but he's put that past him and just wants to be your Buddy.' I didn't hesitate, I said "e-mail them back, let's get Buddy. I want Buddy!" Besides being a companion, I figured a new dog would keep my mind off my A-Hole ex. Buddy was not meant to be ours, but it's all good- he was adopted that night before we got home from the show. From that day on, it was a hunt for 'Our dog.'
Now some of you may be thinking Pitbull?! Aren't those the dogs that eat little kids? Well, yeah, maybe, when they are raised by psychopaths and drug dealers. Honestly, I used to think the same way. My first experience with a pitbull was a mean little pit whose owner had no control over it. A mean dog with a negligent owner, no matter what the breed, is a bad combination. Anyway, I didn't think I liked pits until I met Rebel. Bro's girlfriend has 2 dogs, Brutus and Rebel. Brutus is a huge old black teddy bear of a lab mix and Rebel is a big goofy sweetie pie pit bull. The first night I met Rebel we had a party at the house, things got a little wild (happens to the best of us, right?) I was puking off the porch before midnight. A Life Lesson was learned that night- Life Lesson #59, do not mix cold medicine with alcohol. I went to bed with the Zucchini Rotten Hell Bowl next to my pillow, just in case, and woke up in the morning, hating my life.
Wait. Zucchini Rotten Hell Bowl, I can't just throw that out there and not explain- Once upon a time I grated a bunch of zucchini to make z bread with chocolate chips. I didn't get every single little piece of zucchini out of the bowl- those pesky little hangers on stuck to the sides. Thinking nothing of it, I threw the bowl in the sink and went on my merry way. A few days later I came home to the unwashed bowl, still in the sink, but now with the caption "Zucchini Rotten Hell Bowl" written on it. APPARENTLY rotting zucchini smells like hell. And in my roommates minds, writing that the bowl smells like rotten zucchini hell makes the smell go away. Not washing it, heck no! It's been 2 years and you can still read Rotten Zucchini Hell Bowl- I don't think it's ever coming off. Ok, back to my story.
So I was hungover as all get out, but I had to pee. Isn't that the worst? You're afraid you'll puke if you move, but if you don't move you'll pee yourself?? So anyway, I stumbled down the steep, narrow steps from my attic room, 'The North Wing' as we call it, to use the bathroom. It was far to much work to go back upstairs to bed, so I curled up in our hideous (but oh so comfy) casted off, casted off, casted off teal green leather arm chair. (Whoever bought the furniture in the first place had zero taste or was color blind. And the person that designed the furniture and decided to cover it in teal leather should be slapped.) That's about the time Rebel came prancing downstairs from Bro's room. She walked up to me, licked my knee then climbed up and sat on me. Now I'm hungover with a 100 pound dog sitting on my lap looking at me like 'This is ok right? Cuz I wanna sit with you, ok? I know you don't feel good but I still love you, so Hey, while I'm here, pet me, Please Please Please PET ME!" How could I refuse? Which at the time, for me, was super impressive. I was just out of college and not into pets. I wouldn't like kick a puppy or anything- I just didn't want to get all furry, stinky, gross from having a dog or a cat all up on me. I was so not into animals my mom would wish that I would fall in love with a vet- just because she thought my it would be hilaroius. After that though, me n Rebel were buds. We even spent a drunken (well, I was drunk) night cuddling on the floor of Girls house after a wedding.
So I knew Rebel was a pit, and I knew I liked her. Then one day I was bored, flipping through the channels and came across a tv show "Pitbulls & Parolees" on Animal Planet. Good thing it was a marathon, becuase I was HOOKED! It's a show about the largest pitbull rescue in the country, Villa Lobos, that is run by parolees from the county jail- the main themes though are about second chances and misconceptions. It shows these rescuers going to find abandoned and abused dogs, who have such a stereotype against them, who if you believe the stereotype should try to eat these people trying to rescue them- but in reality, 9 times out of 10 the dog comes running up to them like 'Hey! Get me outta here! I want to be with you! Got any hotdogs, I'm starvin!' My interest was definetly piqued, so I checked out their website www.vrcpitbull.com. I was totally sucked in, looking at pictures and bios of dogs up for adoptoin. Now I'm realizing how sad it is that it took me days to go through all the dogs that were up for adoption. The A-Hole Ex was still around and he was all for adopting one. I was like Really? You can't even take care of yourself and you want to get a dog? Come on. So fast forward a few months, A-Hole is gone (Lets sing it! Ding dog the dick is gone!) and Bro and I were looking at becoming pit parents.
Now some of you may be thinking Pitbull?! Aren't those the dogs that eat little kids? Well, yeah, maybe, when they are raised by psychopaths and drug dealers. Honestly, I used to think the same way. My first experience with a pitbull was a mean little pit whose owner had no control over it. A mean dog with a negligent owner, no matter what the breed, is a bad combination. Anyway, I didn't think I liked pits until I met Rebel. Bro's girlfriend has 2 dogs, Brutus and Rebel. Brutus is a huge old black teddy bear of a lab mix and Rebel is a big goofy sweetie pie pit bull. The first night I met Rebel we had a party at the house, things got a little wild (happens to the best of us, right?) I was puking off the porch before midnight. A Life Lesson was learned that night- Life Lesson #59, do not mix cold medicine with alcohol. I went to bed with the Zucchini Rotten Hell Bowl next to my pillow, just in case, and woke up in the morning, hating my life.
Wait. Zucchini Rotten Hell Bowl, I can't just throw that out there and not explain- Once upon a time I grated a bunch of zucchini to make z bread with chocolate chips. I didn't get every single little piece of zucchini out of the bowl- those pesky little hangers on stuck to the sides. Thinking nothing of it, I threw the bowl in the sink and went on my merry way. A few days later I came home to the unwashed bowl, still in the sink, but now with the caption "Zucchini Rotten Hell Bowl" written on it. APPARENTLY rotting zucchini smells like hell. And in my roommates minds, writing that the bowl smells like rotten zucchini hell makes the smell go away. Not washing it, heck no! It's been 2 years and you can still read Rotten Zucchini Hell Bowl- I don't think it's ever coming off. Ok, back to my story.
So I was hungover as all get out, but I had to pee. Isn't that the worst? You're afraid you'll puke if you move, but if you don't move you'll pee yourself?? So anyway, I stumbled down the steep, narrow steps from my attic room, 'The North Wing' as we call it, to use the bathroom. It was far to much work to go back upstairs to bed, so I curled up in our hideous (but oh so comfy) casted off, casted off, casted off teal green leather arm chair. (Whoever bought the furniture in the first place had zero taste or was color blind. And the person that designed the furniture and decided to cover it in teal leather should be slapped.) That's about the time Rebel came prancing downstairs from Bro's room. She walked up to me, licked my knee then climbed up and sat on me. Now I'm hungover with a 100 pound dog sitting on my lap looking at me like 'This is ok right? Cuz I wanna sit with you, ok? I know you don't feel good but I still love you, so Hey, while I'm here, pet me, Please Please Please PET ME!" How could I refuse? Which at the time, for me, was super impressive. I was just out of college and not into pets. I wouldn't like kick a puppy or anything- I just didn't want to get all furry, stinky, gross from having a dog or a cat all up on me. I was so not into animals my mom would wish that I would fall in love with a vet- just because she thought my it would be hilaroius. After that though, me n Rebel were buds. We even spent a drunken (well, I was drunk) night cuddling on the floor of Girls house after a wedding.
So I knew Rebel was a pit, and I knew I liked her. Then one day I was bored, flipping through the channels and came across a tv show "Pitbulls & Parolees" on Animal Planet. Good thing it was a marathon, becuase I was HOOKED! It's a show about the largest pitbull rescue in the country, Villa Lobos, that is run by parolees from the county jail- the main themes though are about second chances and misconceptions. It shows these rescuers going to find abandoned and abused dogs, who have such a stereotype against them, who if you believe the stereotype should try to eat these people trying to rescue them- but in reality, 9 times out of 10 the dog comes running up to them like 'Hey! Get me outta here! I want to be with you! Got any hotdogs, I'm starvin!' My interest was definetly piqued, so I checked out their website www.vrcpitbull.com. I was totally sucked in, looking at pictures and bios of dogs up for adoptoin. Now I'm realizing how sad it is that it took me days to go through all the dogs that were up for adoption. The A-Hole Ex was still around and he was all for adopting one. I was like Really? You can't even take care of yourself and you want to get a dog? Come on. So fast forward a few months, A-Hole is gone (Lets sing it! Ding dog the dick is gone!) and Bro and I were looking at becoming pit parents.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Well, here we go
Hi! My name is Erin, but I'm known to some as Echo. It's one of the many various and varied nicknames I've picked up over the years. I kinda like it. So, from here on out, I am Echo. Welcome to my world. Hang on tight, it gets a little bumpy sometimes!
When I was in fifth grade, I had to turn in a poetry notebook for a language arts assignment. One of the poems I wrote was:
My brother ---- is a nerd
He belongs in a cow herd
I accompanied that lovely little ditty with my borther's third grade class picture cut out and pasted on the body of a cow I had drawn on construction paper. Apparently the rest of the poetry in my notebook was better than that particular poem because my teacher decided to save the notebook as a 'good example' to show to future classes. Two years later, my bro who was now in fifth grade, comes home in tears. All of his friends were making fun of him- something to do with cows, huh, who'd've though that would come back to haunt me? The point to my story is, Dad made me promise not to write about my family anymore. But I'm going to anyway because family is a huge part of me life- and my bro is my roommate. So to keep my promise, I'm just not going to use their real names. Sounds like a pretty good compromise to me, right?
So my bro, who eventually got over the whole cow poem thing, told me about this awesome website stumbleupon.com. You sign up (it's free!) check off things that interest you and hit 'stumble.' The site generates other websites that you should be interested in based off your, well, interests. So after stumbling around for a few weeks, falling more and more in love with this amazing new time waster with every site I'm led to, I found The Pioneer Woman. www.thepioneerwoman.com Pioneer Woman is a racher's wife, homeschooling, mother of four who blogs about her life in such a unique and hilarious way, she completely inspired me to start this, my own blog. So here it is, love it or leave it, my attempt at blogging. WARNING- I will misuse commas, this dashy thing - and definetly the ever lovin dot dot dot... and I will probably end sentences with prepositions. And not use apostrophe's correctly. Don't judge me. I had the chicken pox in fourth grade, so I was out of school for two weeks. Then I got pneumonia and was out for another two weeks. Four weeks out in fourth grade means I'm not good with apostrophe's. And I don't really know the difference between adverbs and adjectives. And let's just forget about my 6, 7 & 8 times tables. But anyway, back to my blog, I'm calling my blog The Pit Girl because I'm from a pit, live in, on and around a pit and most importantly- I love a pit.
What exactly is a pit? you may ask. A pit is short for a sand and gravel pit, or aggregate mine. Stones in your driveway? Came from a pit. Concrete sidewalk? The sand in the cement came from a pit- maybe even the one my family owns. My grandpa bought the pit back in the 70's and my dad worked there until he bought it in 2000 or 2001. It's a family business- from my grandpa and dad to my aunt, uncle, mom, brother and I- we've all punched the time clock at the pit. Even my mom's brother and his sons have worked there just to make it even more confusing and that much more of a family affair. So to say I come from a pit is honest, it's part of my heritage. As far as the living In, On and Around a pit- well Grandpa bought all the land around the pit except for a few acres with a farm house on it. When he finally acquired that as well, one of the pit employees (Mom and I lovingly call them Pit People) rented the house. When he moved out, Bro moved in. A few months later, his highschool buddy moved in with him. Then in July of 2008, I moved in with the boys. Some of the Pit People call our house the 'Frat House,' I have no idea why. Maybe, because on any given weekend night the first summer we all lived together, you would find people in various stages of intoxication in various ares of the house, the porch, the yard, the driveway, the field... but then that's just a guess. Random passed out bodies on the porch or not, we just call it Home. And while we clean up nice, we are not naturally neat freaks- we will never win awards for our housekeeping- hence the live 'In' a pit. Since it's pit property that's the 'On.' And literally, you can see three gravel pits if you stand on my front porch- that's the 'Around.' I know what you're thinking- that you've never even heard of a pit, let alone know what one is and here's this girl with three of em? It's all in location, location, location. There are a TON of pits in this county, apparently there was a huge glacier deposit way back when that left all the aggregate in this area. If you're curious, or a nerd like me, check out this website www.ohiohistorycentral.org.
As for me loving a pit, it's absolutely true. I love the pit, I mean it has supported my family, essentially put my tail through college and is the source of my favorite part of summer- floating in the clear waters of the pond. But my other pit love is Floyd, our pitbull. So while my blog is mostly going to be a journal of my day to day life- funny stories, memories, rants, raves, you name it... I'll also write about Floyd and how much fun he is, how my friends are getting married and how not fun that is for the terminally single, and just for more fun I'll throw in what it's like living in a podunk town that's a mix between Hicktown and Margaritaville.
If nothing else, this ought to be interesting.
Echo
When I was in fifth grade, I had to turn in a poetry notebook for a language arts assignment. One of the poems I wrote was:
My brother ---- is a nerd
He belongs in a cow herd
I accompanied that lovely little ditty with my borther's third grade class picture cut out and pasted on the body of a cow I had drawn on construction paper. Apparently the rest of the poetry in my notebook was better than that particular poem because my teacher decided to save the notebook as a 'good example' to show to future classes. Two years later, my bro who was now in fifth grade, comes home in tears. All of his friends were making fun of him- something to do with cows, huh, who'd've though that would come back to haunt me? The point to my story is, Dad made me promise not to write about my family anymore. But I'm going to anyway because family is a huge part of me life- and my bro is my roommate. So to keep my promise, I'm just not going to use their real names. Sounds like a pretty good compromise to me, right?
So my bro, who eventually got over the whole cow poem thing, told me about this awesome website stumbleupon.com. You sign up (it's free!) check off things that interest you and hit 'stumble.' The site generates other websites that you should be interested in based off your, well, interests. So after stumbling around for a few weeks, falling more and more in love with this amazing new time waster with every site I'm led to, I found The Pioneer Woman. www.thepioneerwoman.com Pioneer Woman is a racher's wife, homeschooling, mother of four who blogs about her life in such a unique and hilarious way, she completely inspired me to start this, my own blog. So here it is, love it or leave it, my attempt at blogging. WARNING- I will misuse commas, this dashy thing - and definetly the ever lovin dot dot dot... and I will probably end sentences with prepositions. And not use apostrophe's correctly. Don't judge me. I had the chicken pox in fourth grade, so I was out of school for two weeks. Then I got pneumonia and was out for another two weeks. Four weeks out in fourth grade means I'm not good with apostrophe's. And I don't really know the difference between adverbs and adjectives. And let's just forget about my 6, 7 & 8 times tables. But anyway, back to my blog, I'm calling my blog The Pit Girl because I'm from a pit, live in, on and around a pit and most importantly- I love a pit.
What exactly is a pit? you may ask. A pit is short for a sand and gravel pit, or aggregate mine. Stones in your driveway? Came from a pit. Concrete sidewalk? The sand in the cement came from a pit- maybe even the one my family owns. My grandpa bought the pit back in the 70's and my dad worked there until he bought it in 2000 or 2001. It's a family business- from my grandpa and dad to my aunt, uncle, mom, brother and I- we've all punched the time clock at the pit. Even my mom's brother and his sons have worked there just to make it even more confusing and that much more of a family affair. So to say I come from a pit is honest, it's part of my heritage. As far as the living In, On and Around a pit- well Grandpa bought all the land around the pit except for a few acres with a farm house on it. When he finally acquired that as well, one of the pit employees (Mom and I lovingly call them Pit People) rented the house. When he moved out, Bro moved in. A few months later, his highschool buddy moved in with him. Then in July of 2008, I moved in with the boys. Some of the Pit People call our house the 'Frat House,' I have no idea why. Maybe, because on any given weekend night the first summer we all lived together, you would find people in various stages of intoxication in various ares of the house, the porch, the yard, the driveway, the field... but then that's just a guess. Random passed out bodies on the porch or not, we just call it Home. And while we clean up nice, we are not naturally neat freaks- we will never win awards for our housekeeping- hence the live 'In' a pit. Since it's pit property that's the 'On.' And literally, you can see three gravel pits if you stand on my front porch- that's the 'Around.' I know what you're thinking- that you've never even heard of a pit, let alone know what one is and here's this girl with three of em? It's all in location, location, location. There are a TON of pits in this county, apparently there was a huge glacier deposit way back when that left all the aggregate in this area. If you're curious, or a nerd like me, check out this website www.ohiohistorycentral.org.
As for me loving a pit, it's absolutely true. I love the pit, I mean it has supported my family, essentially put my tail through college and is the source of my favorite part of summer- floating in the clear waters of the pond. But my other pit love is Floyd, our pitbull. So while my blog is mostly going to be a journal of my day to day life- funny stories, memories, rants, raves, you name it... I'll also write about Floyd and how much fun he is, how my friends are getting married and how not fun that is for the terminally single, and just for more fun I'll throw in what it's like living in a podunk town that's a mix between Hicktown and Margaritaville.
If nothing else, this ought to be interesting.
Echo
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