Minis, Bugs and Fiat's....Am I still In Texas??

I admit it, I am a transplant. To make sure I keep my Hillbilly roots, I write them down or pass along in spoken word to others but I actually moved to Texas.

Have you looked at the job market in Arkansas? I went where I could work so here I am, having switched from pork to beef. (An obscure reference to Arkansas Razorbacks and Texas Longhorns)

What I noticed on my long drive home (actually I only live 4 miles from downtown Austin) was that there was an absence of pick up trucks. I have gotten to where I was used to dodging the long bed, short bed, restored, double cab, heavy duty, super duty, four wheels, six wheel wide bed, every make and model of pick up truck in the world as I try to remain invisible to these little car crushers on my way to way home.

What I saw were very many-Mini Coopers, Fiats of all colors but only one shape, as is standard with all three of these toy make believe cars. There were even convertable Fiats and these look smaller than the Mini Cooper, Mini gives a hint that your but is 2 inches from the street and feet almost to the front bumper! How in the world did they make them into convertables with no a hood smaller than my kitchen counter? What I have to admit that I liked the most was the creative colors for all these cars, well not the Fiats, they need to step it up on color. There were Mini's with strips, designs and just plain blue that could hurt your teeth (yeah, Hillbilly expression). The Beetles were in colors from blinding yellow to familiar rust that ate through the metal to make you question if these were bullet holes or acutally time had taken a few bites, leaving only a hint of the color it used to be.

The pick up truck isn't dying in Texas. There were still pleanty of the monsters pushing these little cars around but I wonder if a HEMI can be taken down by a swarm of Mini's?? Maybe I will get to witness this in my lifetime.

Things I Learned from Day Time TV

I put my time to good use while on Family Medical Leave by getting educated in what programers believe daytime TV viewers need to know and by companies that are willing to pay for TV time let us viewers know what we are missing (we being John and Jane Q public).

If you had a fall in the last year (who hasn't?) you meet one of 5 qualifications for an electronic scooter to get around your home and become more involved with outdoor's activities. I would like one for the beach please.

My knives suck. I must have the ones that can cut cans. Although, for the life of me, I can't recall every having to cut a can to make a meal??

I learned I need to be on many more medications than I am right now, the symptoms I need to give my doctor to assure I will get these medications and oh my goodness, how did I survive without them?

My blender sucks. There are amazing blenders that replace 6 kitchen tools I don't even own, of course I don't cook either. I microwave.

With one call, I can change my life!! So many ways but the best one was not the amazing non stick pans, it was to get a degree with a guarantee of a job after graduation. They said so, it must be true. I can do this in my spare time on line, in my PJ's and bunny slippers, cool. I decided I want to be either a brain surgeon or a blacksmith. You are all invited to my graduation, maybe I will do both, they are so afordable.

I am not prepared to retire, ever, unless I follow some easy steps. All the numbers are toll free, what a relief.

I have every number, every agency, every person I need to talk to about preparing for retirement or pre planning my funeral! Well, I am on the "back nine". I learned so much about Medicare and it isn't as caring as it sounds. WE all need additional insurance to make sure we don't go right to the funeral part. So many gadgets to have at home it would almost pass standards for a hospital itself, cool......

Best of all.... I can get a cure for all of my additions, there are many but ice cream being the worse, without that pesky 12 step program. This can be done on a white sand beach in a spa like setting and there is almost a guarantee on cure. Awsome, although I'd miss my ice cream.

Life Ain't Always A Hootenanny

I've been away from my blog for a while. Either poop just happens or if you believe in Karma, I was a really bad person in a former life. I will know in September if I will celebrate with a hoe down or be facing a show down.

I had a little cough for a while, was told it was viral on July 26th, to stay home the next day, a Friday, and rest. I recently returned to work, this week and Friends, I thought I was gonna die!

The cherry on top you ask? Well there's whip cream to look forward to also. Cherry first. My own daughter robbed my house the week I was in the hospital! She is a topic for another blog. I came home to a messier house than I left, almost impossible but true.

The whipped cream? Although the diagnosis is pneumonia, an abnormal CT scan has led me to a terrifying wait for a follow up CT scan. I am a breast cancer survivor of 7 years. NO cancer survivor wants to hear, "There's just too much fluid to tell if there is a mass in that lower left lobe. Although you clearly have pneumonia, see your oncologist for another CT to see if a cancer spread." WHAT the POOP!

I patiently waited for my lungs to heal (did you know it takes up to 6 weeks?) then had the follow up CT, not to worry. I will be here for a while longer, unless I get his by a bus or a tree falls on me.

I haven't been on line much at all, was just too sick. I have a friend who told me I am now an official member of the Ass Wipers Club (older women who help each other when in need). Everyone should have such a club. They took such good care of me.

As for my my criminal of a daughter? She is not allowed back to my home and I have stopped contact, again! This has been going on over 20 years and why I am raising a 10 year old at my age. I plan to do a blog in the future, addressing life with a meth addicted child. Maybe call it Crystal Falls. What do you think I should call it?

Thanks to my friends who checked my blog during my long respite. I hate to be real here in the present, it's so much easier to live in younger past with Roy Rogers, Dale Evans, Sky King and Howdy Doody! Signing off for now folks but I will be back!

Death Penalty?

I was listening to the raido only a few minutes ago and the DJ's were talking about Colorado debating on whether to seek the Death penalty for a mass murderer.

Still stunned, sitting here wondering, what is the debate? I won't get on my soapbox about an eye for an eye, who can and can not play God but there is already a law on the books! Colorado has the death penalty. When would be a good time to seek a death penalty if not now?

I know many people who do not believe in the death penalty, my husband is one of those, many of my best friends. This is why I love America, we can have different opinions and no one goes to jail for expressing their belief about politics, religion or whether to be a vegan but it is too hard for me to think this guy will live his life out on tax dollars as he inflates his ego each time a book is written about him, a write or news reporter requests an interview on camera, then he gets to read about himself getting more famous, knows he will be in history books, studied in colleges and in fact, never forgotten.

We don't want to forget events like this, we learn from them but to grant a gift to the murderer who made this happen, to allow him to watch his fame grow as we feed him, cloth him and shelter him for the rest of his life makes me feel ill. It is my belief he will surpass the fame of the Manson Murders and the number of books, movies and documentaries about Manson spins my head. How long ago were the Manson murders and his fame has not faded.

To me, seeking life in prison will only inflate his ego, confirmed to him that he did the right thing and look at the fame as his legacy.

There is a lot of talk in many states about revamping gun laws. Every time my daughter sees this on TV she shakes her head and says, guns laws only work for the people who follow the law.

Off my soap box now.

Spank 'em or Hang 'em High?

The topic of child discipline came up today with some friends. We might as well have been talking about politics or religion because with parents, their way was the best way, the only way to assure we won't raise a mass murderer and each had some sort of book to support their point of view.

When I was a kid, there was only one method of discipline I knew about, you got spanked. We would get spanked with a switch, whipped with a belt, a shoe, a fly swatter, or what ever was close when spanker was angry at the spankee!

Wellll, this tradition lives on in the Ozarks and I am not saying it is a bad one but don't be surprised, parents, when you have some very creative kids that will turn it around on you, to teach the parents a lesson. I saw the message as, "Don't spank me, you will be sorry you did if I ever get hurt real bad."

Attached to this post is exactly what happened to my neice when her kids pranked her. I am sure there was older cousin involvement too, a little kid could not have pulled this off without careful planning by those what could climb, carry, then direct the actions, or lack of action, by her son.

I won't even go into the ruckus upon first sight of her child, as you can only imagine if you saw your child like this. After my neice realized her child was safe and she pretended to have gotten what ever message the kids were trying to send, there are differences of opinion about the message, she had her son stay in the tree so she could take a picture. She posted this on facebook so my Niece has a GREAT sence of humor.

AND...."What a GREAT Mom!" I would have been tempted to whomp the hell out of all of them kids for giving me a heart attack, or close to one. It's one thing for us to hurt our own kids, another thing for someone else to even look at them wrong, right?

What do you think about this payback from her kids?

In the Deep End

Have you ever jumpped before you thought, really thought about what will happen after you jump? Where will you land, how will you land, is the water deep enough, will anyone help me if I get into trouble?

My grandson has been going swimming almost every night with a young friend who is taking swimming lessons. DJ has never taken swimming lessons but loves the water, would morph into a fish if he knew how and loves everything about the Ocean. I can't believe I have never thought about swimming lessons for him.

He was talking about jummping off the diving board when he got home with such excitment that these days, I can only envy. I can't remember being that excited about anything for maybe a decade, except when my grandkids were born.

The pool he goes to does not have a high board, in fact, I can't recall any of the pools in our town that have the low, mid and high diving boards we had in the 50's.

My brother and I would walk to the bus station with our nickle for fare and ride the bus to the nearest large town that had a pool, since our little town didn't have a pool. We would ride for about an hour and then have to walk from the bus station in that town to the city pool. I can feel the excitment right now and have a smile on my face I recall seeing the high dive before actually seeing the pool. This was going to be the day I climb that ladder and jump into the deep end with the bigger kids, it was time. I wasn't a baby any longer, I was in 2nd grade for goodness sakes.

Not yet the dare devil I finally became in my teens, I usually only made it to the mid-level dive board but didn't feel the thrill I heard from the shreaks of the high dive kids that were plunging into the water next to my board. I wasn't on the baby board, as everyone called it, closest to the ladder that led to the safety of solid ground, but I wasn't flying like the bigger kids on the high dive either.

The day I climbed the ladder to the high dive, I didn't think about the butt that was in my face all the way up the steps as we waited for the ones in front to jump then clear the water below so the next one could jump. I also didn't think about the kid beind me that had my butt in his face as he waited his turn, we were all anxious but now I wonder, what was going through their heads. I know what was going through my head. WHAT HAD I DONE!! I was the smallest kid on the board. The life guard told me, don't climb if you won't jump, no one was allowed to climb back down. The ladder was piled with kids who would not move to let anyone climb back down anyway, we had to jump it we went up the ladder.

A little more than half way up, I changed my mind. I was terrified as I looked down. It reminded me of being in a huge tree or on top of the house, which I was forbidden to be but did anyway. I was warned of the dangers of climbing as high as the roof of my house and I must be twice that high on the ladder. I asked the kid with his face in my butt, can I climb down? He yelled, with about 5 kids below him, NO!

When I got to the top, the kids behind me along with the lifeguard began yelling. I couldn't understand what they were saying, I was frozen on the end of the board. Then the chant started, "Jump, jump, jump!" Terrified, knowing there was a horrible and painful death waiting for me in the water below, I couldn't move, couldn't think, I was glued to the spot then suddenly, I was flying and the water was rushing up to greet me. I forgot to take a breath. My feet touched the bottom of the pool. I only flet the bottom of the pool in the shallow end, never the deep end. My lungs burned as they screamed for air. I knew I would never reach the surface, bubbles surrounded me, for sure slowing my attempt to reach safety. Just as suddenly, I burst through the surface confused buy the applause and how I ended up in the deep end when I was frozen on the high board. I looked up to make sure I wasn't still there as the kids began to chant "move, move, move" and the lifeguard blew his whistle of power and pointed to the ladder for my exit from the pool. I was never so relieved in my life, for sure I just narrowly missed certain death.

I survied the deep end. Somehow, without relizing it happened, I was climbing that ladder again, my heart beating so hard I knew it was making my chest hit the slippery ladder, wet from the dripping kids above me. I didn't care, I just knew, I wanted more.

If there is something I could give to DJ each day when he goes swimming, it would be that feeling I had on the day I jumpped into the deep end.

My Brother Trucker

I had a new reader stop by who is a long haul truck driver. My older brother was a long haul truck driver but as with everyone, he is so many more things. Isn't it weird when we meet someone new we ask, "What do you do?" as if that defines who they are?? I know the truck driver who stopped by my blog is so much more, that is something he does, it is a part of his identity and it was nice to read how proud he is to be identified with this group. My brother was the same, he still drives a truck for a cement company. He had skills, he went to college but loves this job.

I remember movies like "Convoy" and learned about "front doors" and "back doors". My brother lived this job for a very long time after a stint driving the monster rigs in West Texas oil fields. After he almost died in a rig accident, he changed jobs to a "safer?" long haul driver where he didn't have to help unload heavy oil rig equipment but he was so much more than a coast to coast driver of trucks.

Another identity was as a soldier in the war during Viet Nam when I watched many of the boys we went to school with get their numbers pulled during draft lottery or they would come over or call after getting "the notice" in the mail. These were brave men who has to grow up from teenage boys in the blink of an eye. They had dreams of being teachers, coaches, and one even a Priest. Some got married just before they left, not knowing if they would return, leaving pregant young wives.

I was a girl and didn't have to worry that my number would be pulled but I cried when I heard about the boy down the street who didn't last one month, then I heard about a boy I had a few dates with didn't make it six months. I couldn't read the obituary page with my grandparents, it was too painful. When my brother and his friends had to pack off for boot camp, I sobbed.

My brother, James, is a proud veteran. I married a Viet Nam vet. He became a truck driver too. I wonder if there is a connection? They became road warriors.

Although I worried every time James was on the road, I was happy he was a part of something larger. During the Viet Nam war, he has his brothers in arms, a huge support group and a painful lesson for all of America, SUPPORT OUR KIDS in the MILITARY, EVEN IF YOU DON'T AGREE WITH THE WAR. Sorry for the shouting.

When James was a truck driver, a road warrior, finding the same kind of family as veterans. Truckers stick together. If we haven't done it, we can't understand. They have a brotherhood I envy. I love stopping at truck stops and seeing the buddies who are mostly kind and caring souls who would help a family or lady stranded roadside due to a break down.

Take care all who are on the road, give room to the truckers as they carry heavy loads trying to earn a living, like the rest of us. They are much more than just an extension of the machine they control. Drive safe truckers as us little cars are terrified of the huge metal monsters. Even through my fear, I am so very proud to know you.