Slices of Southern Pie

I Smell Bacon...

We were driving south from Charleston SC on Highway 17. Suddenly my husband swerved into the other lane and back. I saw something running away to my right.
"What was it?" I asked.
"Pig."
"What?"
"Pig!"
Sure enough, it was a little black pig, going as fast as his tiny hoofs would carry him across the road and into the woods. I'm used to seeing all manner of critters on the road: coon, possum, turtle, squirrel, groundhog, skunk, pheasant, peacock, and chicken, and once an armadillo (a live one!) but this was the first pig. Not a pot-belly pet either. It looked to me like a young wild ham on the hoof, but even if it was just an adventurous farm oinker, it was good for a laugh.

Seen In Charleston

West Ashley Bait & Tackle
Cold Beer, Hot Food, No Bait, No Tackle

(!)

T-Shirt

"Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit!"

(Charleston Flea Market)

Disturbing Trend

Substituting spaghetti noodles for lo mein... saw this for the first time at a "Chinese Buffet" in Georgia, and again the next day in Harrisburg, PA. As a huge fan of (real) lo mein, I hope this doesn't catch on.

Perspective

When I was a kid, it seemed to take forever to climb to the top of the lighthouse. It's a lot shorter than I remember. Of course it's still 175 steps like it's always been, but I have (marginally) longer legs now!

Bated Hooks

I see it so often lately.
It's my latest writing peeve.
I really want to ask those people if they were munching on earthworms, or if they prefer minnows... perhaps squid or chum? Have they caught anything?

I'm talking about all those folks writing that they are/were waiting with baited breath for something or other. Hopefully they're waiting for a shipment of Listerine...

To clarify, for all those wannabe writers with bait-breath:

bate beɪt/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[beyt] verb, bat·ed, bat·ing. –verb (used with object)

1.	to moderate or restrain: unable to bate our enthusiasm.

2.	to lessen or diminish; abate: setbacks that bated his hopes.

–verb (used without object)

3.	to diminish or subside; abate.

—Idiom

4.	with bated breath, with breath drawn in or held because of anticipation or suspense: We watched with bated breath as the runners approached the finish line.

Please correct yourselves and stop teasing hungry fish. Thank you.

7-11

Today is 7-11, and I really want a Slurpee...

Have I gone off on my nostalgic fondness for 7-11 before? I don't think so. At least, not here; I know I have in conversation on many occasions. I haven't seen a 7-11 in years. I know they're out there, and I know that a dozen of them are currently masquerading as Quik-E-Marts to promote the Simpsons movie, but this rave concerns the 7-11's of my youth... the ones that really were open from 7 AM to 11 PM.

The store I remember best was right at the edge of the military base housing area, on the "civilian" side. We lived on the military resident side. In order to get on the base, one had to drive up to the guard station and wait to be waved through after your credentials (window sticker, or on high security days, military ID card) were verified. To leave, one had to drive past the same guard shack. I was seven, and obviously I didn't drive; moreso, kids didn't have the same notions about protocol and security that adults and the US Marine Corps did. Thus on more than one occasion I took a shortcut along the cement drainage ditches that ran the length of the housing areas, crossed under a road through a sewer culvert, and followed a narrow path through the woods that bordered the base, finally emerging behind the 7-11 two miles from my house... barefoot, more often than not. (My mother thought I was out playing with friends. Those were the days when parents might see their kids twice between cartoons and supper- once to bandage a skinned knee and once to dole out lunch or a snack. They knew, if there was a problem, another mother would call them.)

Finally, I could spend my hoarded quarter or fifty cents, or more if I was lucky and had visited a generous relative lately. Back then, fifty cents bought a small brown paper bag of "penny" candy (which by that time cost 3 to 5 cents) or four to five more expensive items. For example, 10 cents for Gobstoppers. They used to be much larger and came in cellophane twin packs, usually two different colors per pack. I would dig around until I found either a yellow/orange combo or, very rarely, an accidental yellow/yellow pair. (Although they all tasted the same, I had a thing for yellow candy. I still do!)

Other 10-cent goodies included Lemonheads and the other Ferrara Pan boxed candies, like Jawbreakers, Boston Baked Beans, and mini Atomic Fireballs. Lemonheads were one of my high-ranking favorites. Banana and grape Laffy Taffy (5 cents) were up there too, along with Gobstoppers and that powdered candy that came in fruit-shaped bottles. I also loved foil-wrapped chocolate footballs (bottom shelf, in bins, 3 cents) and Charleston Chews (25 cents).

If I happened to be there with my parents, I would beg for Dukes of Hazzard trading cards. As I recall, the stick of gum inside was horrible-tasting but of little importance to me. I wanted a whole set of Dukes cards! I never did complete a set (was missing two), and a handful of the ones I had sort of wandered off someplace, but I still have a battered display box full of singles. I remember when the cards went up to 50 cents a pack and my mom stopped buying them for me... that ended my Dukes collecting, but there were other, cheaper cards to be had. I was also a sticker fanatic so anything that came with adhesive backing got my interest, especially Wacky Packages. There was another kind of pack that came with all stickers, including cards with nine oval word-balloons ("go away" "groovy" "crazy" etc) and I haven't been able to find or remember the brand. I have some of the cards, stickers intact, stashed away and someday I'll dig those out to check the name. I'm sure I saved at least two wrappers. I always did.

While Mom wouldn't let me have a large soda, sometimes I'd be able to get a Slurpee. I'm sure it was the Slurpee cups that occasionally had promotional items or prizes stuck under the bottom of the cup. Round trading cards, maybe, or contest game pieces. My memory is fuzzy on that one (blame it on the sugar buzz at the time.) Anyone else remember?

Our 7-11 had permanently sticky floors and smelled weird, like a cross between refrigerant and leaf mold. It didn't seem to do a lot of business; military residents frequented the base mini-mart just past the guard shack, which was cheaper and had a playground for the kids next to it. Not many people lived in the area then, so patrons were usually the few non-military locals or people running in after the base store had closed for the day. I vaguely recall when it closed down, then later reopened under some non-chain name, then eventually closed again after going through a few more owners and several pieces of plywood to replace the broken windows. The last time I went by the site was a small engine repair shop.

If I run across one, I'd like to go in a 7-11 and buy a Slurpee and a pack of Garbage Pail Kids cards. Just for old times' sake. Meanwhile, here's a neat link to some 7-11 factoids.

*Supposedly, July 11 is "7-11 Day" whereupon the stores give away 7.11-ounce Slurpees to 1,000 patrons.*

5 Years

July 1, 2002 - July 1, 2007

"You had me from Howdy"

So Much for Art History

It's Baby Critter Season

Every year, I watch the geese show up and wander around until they pair up. Then I start looking for the goslings a few weeks after. Every year I notice that geese share babysitting duties with other geese, and it's not uncommon to see two big honkers followed by a dozen short ones and two more adults bringing up the rear. The group above crossed the same piece of road in front of me three or four times within two minutes. Were they lost? Confused? Trying to convince me to take their family portrait? I finally did stop watching them long enough to grab the camera, and of course the nice drill-team-style parade line broke up just then.

Also seen lately:
baby cows
baby horses
baby groundhogs
baby birds
baby muskrat (just one)
baby humans

Spoiled.

I sure feel spoiled...



We went to the Ford show this weekend... lots of great cars and trucks as usual, including ours. *snerk* Ordinarily we love pitching our tent and crashing outside, but this time I was quite happy to "wuss out" and book a room. It was hot hot hot and we're both burnt burnt burnt. Then the storms came through. So it was either 140 degrees with 85% humidity, or 140 degrees with 100% humidity. Just two straight days of haze. I was enjoying the chlorinated 100% humidity of the hotel swimming pool, myself. (We did one of those last-minute-online-booking things and lucked out. My only request was a swimming pool; we got the Radisson.)



On Saturday night we went to dinner and the Comedy Zone and had a good time, although the two bachelorette parties in the nightclub next door were in attendance at the show, and were obnoxiously loud. *shrug* I wish I could be a fly on the wall when their husbands-to-be check their phone messages... one of the comedians took the gals' phones and left some rather "interesting" messages for the guys. Dinner was great but not spectacular; breakfast the next morning made my day though.

On Sunday we decided to be kids again and went to Hershey. It was raining so Hersheypark wasn't an option, so we went to Chocolate World and took the tour. It's changed quite a bit since the last time I was there. But the chocolate smell is the same! YUMMMM. I don't even care for Hershey chocolate much (I prefer imported... which Hershey will be in the near future... that's another story) but there isn't a chocolate-lover in the world who wouldn't have at least considered jumping out of the tram and sticking their finger (or face) in that giant vat of melted chocolate.



We hit Fuddruckers for ostrich burgers for dinner, grabbed a brownie for the road, and headed on home. I gained 5 lbs, I just know it. I'll just have to work out a little more, that's all. SO worth it!

Like, radical, dude! Fer sure!

Happy Friday the 13th!

What a great day! it really is a great day, isn't it? The big ol' bright sun isn't glaring in my eyes, and the colder weather is keeping the aroma from that dead skunk in the road from getting too bad. And we haven't had enough snow yet this year; hearing there's more on the way is nice. I just finished doing our taxes and we owe a little bit, so no refund, but it could be worse, right? I don't know why we ended up having to pay in this year but it's a lesson learned for next year. I'll just have more deducted from my paycheck voluntarily. I sure love knowing that I'm helping my government, by letting them use my hard-earned money to fund all those necessary and important programs, don't you? Seriously, we'd never know just how damaging cow methane really is otherwise, and learning is half the battle. Oh, my husband is in the hospital, but that's okay too. He's getting his gall bladder removed. We didn't know there was anything wrong with it until this week, so it's a good thing they're taking it out! He might have had another attack later, like after he signed his official papers for his permanent state job and secured his health benefits. That was supposed to happen in 2 weeks, but he can't work for the next 4 to 6 weeks. I'm sure they'll hold the position for him. All those people waiting to get in, like he did, certainly know how hard it is to get a good state job and I know they'll be happy to wait just a little longer while he recovers. People are inherently good, you know. I'll be off work for a few days too, taking care of hubby when he comes home next week. Missing two days so far, and having to buy gas to go back and forth to the hospital, is eating into our finances but I'm not worried. Nothing matters but knowing he is going to be okay. And he will, of course, because it's Friday the 13th, and that is a lucky day! It always has been. Ask my grandfather, who said until his dying day that it was lucky. He died on a Friday the 13th. How fortunate is that, going on your lucky day! Wow. Just can't get any better around here, so I'm going to go back to bed. I hear Saturday the 14th isn't too bad either.

Excuse me, where is the lieu?

ARGH!

You know how I am about misspelled words, especially from a business standpoint. (Right now there is a sign on the main office door at work that begins "During the peek season, please use this office for office-related duties only." Um, okay, so that means... no photocopying your butt in case someone's peeking?)

That isn't what I'm going off about today, however. Today it's my otherwise-intelligent, college-educated boss's continuous misuse of the phrase "in lieu of." No less than three times a day (that I personally hear, so it could be more often) he will say a variation of the following:

"In lieu of the fact that the sun is shining, you should plan on watering all the petunias."

Not "in view of" or "considering" or "due to the fact" but instead of... which makes zero sense. Today he said "In lieu of what you have planned to water today, please keep an eye on the water level." I wanted to ask him "So... if I'm not using the water, you really think it'll go down?" Sadly, he wouldn't get it and I'd have to explain and I'd be the one looking like a nitpick for correcting him on a triviality in the first place. But it drives me crazy!

This is just one of many common words or phrases that get mangled on a daily basis. I might use a few myself, but in most cases it's deliberate and spoken with a wink. My boss, as I said, is a very smart, knowledgeable guy; it bothers me to see him inadvertently demean his intelligence in front of his superiors. It also bothers me to think that someone is peaking at me when I'm making copies...

It's the last Saturday in March.

Already!

Random observations:

• I want to adopt a Greyhound! Maybe two or three. I thought they were one-way dogs but after getting the chance to love up on one at an outdoor expo, it turns out they aren't. Their fur is softer than I expected, and -get this- they're LAZY. The woman running the booth called them "45-MPH couch potatoes" because they'd rather lay on the couch and sleep all day than go running around chasing things. I've wanted a Greyhound for years; oddly, this was the first time I took the opportunity to learn more about them.
• Britney Spears articles are a waste of media. However, props to FedEx for somehow managing to come off smelling like a rose. Sure, it's a Fresno rose, which has an underlying aroma of cow manure, but overall he's being lauded as a good guy. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.
  
• Speaking of stranger things... Michael Jackson made an appearance during daylight hours and without a veil, dashing rumors that he was once again attempting immortality not by way of a hyperbaric chamber this time but via vampirism.
  
• Many years ago I got my left ear pierced. I didn't want to do both in case I didn't like it; easier to get it done than undone, and I could always go back for the other one. (I'd always heard that if you didn't wear the earring or piercing stud the hole would close over. Here it is, fifteen years later, and although I've worn an earring for an hour or two perhaps five times total, the piercing never did close or give me any trouble whatsoever.) Last night I finally got the right one done, for a matched set. Never let it be said that I make hasty decisions.
• My husband received an inheritance from a family member's estate. He spent it on the complete set of Dukes of Hazzard DVDs.
  

If you're surfing over from Branded in the 80s, thanks for dropping by. Shawn was nice enough to give a shout-out... he also came up with much more information about my stickers than I ever knew or would have even thought about researching. Totally awesome, dude!

Wearin' O' The... White?

We had a white Valentine's Day and now a white St. Patrick's Day is coming... a white Easter is never out of the question, either.

A storm came through today and it's currently in the process of dumping 4 to 10 inches of snow upon us. After work, I was cleaning off the truck and dreading the slippery drive home... glanced at the road to see how bad it was... and there, in the middle of the road, hunched over, with his feathers puffed out and a very annoyed expression on his face, was a robin. No doubt he was disgruntled due to the sudden weather change from the warm temps we enjoyed last week. I saw what was surely this bird's brother back in February, the day after the Valentine's storm subsided, perched on a tiny tuft of grass surrounded by snow and looking just as pissed-off as the one today.

Of course, robins look angry all year round. They're the pompous jerks of the bird world. The one in the road most likely thought to his little bird self, "Oh, that is IT! I have HAD it with this weather and it better change RIGHT NOW because I am SO not getting that nest built for Matilda until it warms up and if she doesn't get a nest I will NEVER hear the end of her squawking about it. I am protesting RIGHT here RIGHT now and I will STOP TRAFFIC until the sun comes out!!!"
vroooom *AWK!*
"...I will sit over HERE and GLARE at traffic until the sun comes out. Ahem. Don't want to get my feet muddy, you know."


Image by Richard Bradbury,
www.rsbp.org.uk

Smells like... adhesive?

Today I was linkhopping and came across Branded in the 80s, a great nostalgia site. There's a section on 8os-era stickers; most of the ones showcased weren't ones I collected (although the name Panini brings back semi-fond memories) until I read the Scratch n' Sniff posts. I *loved* scratch n' sniffs. After viewing the pictures on that site I did some surfing and found more... all those "smells" came flooding back, almost as if I had my sticker books in front of me.

For the past few months I've been wondering how to capture a scent to sniff later... not creating it like perfume, but saving the smell of an early mountain morning or the vinyl interior of a vintage VW beetle or the aroma from a certain pizza parlor. These are scents I want to keep and re-smell, but it just isn't practical (or sane!) to fly 3,000 miles to sniff some pizza, or to visit a junkyard and ask the proprietor if you can smell his Bugs. I'm sure there's a way to do it, right? Maybe not a cost-effective, simple, or reasonable way, but if someone can make stickers that still smell like pickles and cotton candy 25 years later, surely it can't be impossible!

January, my foot!

Wow, was my last post ever off! It is not cold. (Yet.)

I'm outside today and I'm seeing ground. Dirt. Grass. BIRDS!

I'm seeing the head guy in my department come to work in shorts. I'm scrounging around in my bag for my sunglasses. I'm watching my new winter coat gathering dust while I wear sweaters... and sweat in them. And, of all things, I'm opening the kitchen window during the day to let air in because it's stuffy! This past week I was hanging out of that window, feeding the birds below me.

It's January.

According to the Farmer's Almanac, we should have been knee-deep in winter by now. Instead we've had some rain, three snowflakes, and a lot of crisp, bright days that feel more like late April than early January. I know it will get here though... we're going to have a slushy, mushy spring and snow for Easter, I betcha.

Another error in my prior post: Believe it or not, I have been upright AND conscious for both sunrise and sunset for two weeks. I have photos to prove it, for those of you who know me well enough not to believe me. The powers-that-be at work wanted everyone coming in at the same time instead of staggered like we were, and sunrise was hitting its peak colors just before 7 AM, so... there you go. Or there I went. After the first day and the first blood-red sunrise, I hustled out of the house not so much to get to work on time, but because if I was running late I wouldn't see the skyshow. How's that for incentive?

The twin nieces are healthy and beautiful. They're fraternal and have different personalities already. I was unable to visit over the holidays, due to work, but I sure hope to see them and my older niece and nephew soon! Everyone lives too far away and none of us want to move. :-P

New post at Alter Ego, link to the right --->

Finally, I said I had photos... here's one from this morning of a nice sun pillar. It was also the last photo I took with my camera before the battery-cover hinge broke.

In Brief

No, that does not mean I'm sitting here in my underwear. Oh wait... maybe it does... never mind. On with it...

• I'm an aunt to new twins. :-)
  
• Hubby got the PennDOT position and is in class this week. He'll be taking the operator test next week. He's liking the job so far.
• Step-sister just moved here! Haven't seen her since 1995. This could be fun.
  
• My job has been nonstop busy. It's that time of year!
• Lots of rain here, had some flooding on Thursday. Now it's getting cold; I broke out the heavy blankets and got 'em ready. Sleeping is so nice when the air's cold on your face but your comforter is nice and toasty underneath!
• Anyone see the Leonid meteor shower last night? (Continues this weekend) It's supposed to be a very active one this time, but it was too cloudy here last night to see anything.
• Speaking of looking UP, this is a great time of year for spectacular sunrises and sunsets! I took some nice sunset shots (what, you think I'm actually up for sunrise? HA!) over the lake and got a few more rainbows in my collection as well.

Sting Forum

I just realized it was down when I came home tonight... the Webmaster might be moving us to the new server tonight.

NO viruses, NO hackers, just routine stuff. If your web address or bookmark doesn't work later, try www.stingforum.com

Mellow

It's Friday the 13th.
I'm sitting in front of the computer, wearing a flannel union suit (jammies) and feeling a bit chilly. But pleasantly so. There was frost on the car windows this morning and it's supposed to be cold again tonight. There is absolutely nothing going on at our house right now... I have some nice soul/bluesy tunes playing quietly in the background (do not ask me if it's possible to play blues quietly. It just is, okay?) Candles burning, husband dozing on the couch, everything's peaceful tonight. It's a good time to think of random little things.

• A man whose name is Frank Burns and who also looks like Pete Rose is just waaaay tooo confusing for me. I keep wanting to call him Major and ask him who he favors for the Series...
• How does one get the smell of burnt popcorn out of the microwave? I have spritzed and scrubbed and stuck lemon in there and the smell still hits me.
  
• I wish these jammies had feet. Then they'd be perfect.
  
• I want my own pumpkin patch. A sincere one!
  
• Jack Palance (the actor) is having an auction near here tomorrow... I feel kinda guilty because for 30 seconds or so I actually thought about skipping a good friend's wedding reception to go to the auction. Of course we'll be at the ceremony and the reception, but the brief thought was there. I wonder what he's selling besides that '59 Cadillac?
  
• I smell bacon. Baconbaconbacon... ah, my husband got up to make a grilled cheese n' bacon sandwich. That smell is SO not working with the popcorn odor. I think I'll light another candle or three. Pretty soon I'll be rubbing lemon juice under my nose.
  
• Speaking of hubby, he starts his new job on Monday. Yay! The six-month-mayhem begins.
• Cherry crumb pie or strawberry shortcake for the boss's birthday? Hmmm.

It's still Friday the 13th, and I'm still here random-ing away. I think I'll go do something even less strenuous, like lounging in boneless cat mode on the other end of the sofa. :-D

(Happy Lucky Day, Pop!)

October Already...

My favorite time of year is here! This is when I see the world through pumpkin-colored glasses, reflecting moonbeams and slightly fogged by crisp autumn air.

For many, this is the downward slope into winter, the last handhold on nice days before the restricting weather sets in. This is the step before seasonal depression and the long, agonizing countown until spring brings its healing promise.

I am rather the opposite. Autumn is my season of rejuvenation, not spring. I feel so much more alive when the weather first drops below 50 degrees, when that little bite is in the air along with a hint of woodsmoke from the house down the road. When apple cider cravings overcome me; when the subliminal feeling to "rush, rush, get it done before the snow!" becomes more prevalent than the laid-back attitude of summer; when the days are shorter and the nights are custom-made for curling up under a quilt with a good book... this is when the world is perfect to me. When all around is hibernating and drying up and blowing away, I am dancing in the leaves with sparkly eyes, a pocketful of candy corn, and an itch to go, to do, to be spontaneous!

Oh, let Fall be long this year
In colors red and brown
Let orange leaves lie underfoot
Instead of snowy ground!

Oh, let Fall be long this year
A season to remember
Let a harvest moon shine bright
Well into December!

Scrapping out a liveing

Have I ranted on this before? I'm sure I have. No matter, I'm going to do it again.

Subject: Business Typos

A few days ago, someone in the office at work (meaning someone who makes more money than I do, and supposedly has education and experience befitting her position) typed out a memo for all employees. She left a copy next to the mailboxes. I read it and cringed. We're doing inventory right now, and we cannot move or throw out (scrap) any items until they have been counted. In large, bold letters, her flyer said "NO MOVING, NO SCRAPING!"
Scraping. NOT scrapping. Her demand sounded more like a grade-school teacher's classroom admonition on test day. "Scrappage" and its variants are (unfortunately, from a business standpoint) some of the most commonly-used words at my workplace. The back of my company hat says "Goal: 0% SCRAP." (Hey, it was free!) And yet, nobody else caught the typo until the memo was plastered on every flat surface in all three plants. It is seriously bugging me.

Typos drive me crazy. Not so much on internet forums, blogs, chat, etc. where a more conversational tone is accepted by most and acronyms, abbreviations and "txt spk" are the norm. I don't follow strict writing criteria here and I don't expect anyone else to. I'll end sentences with prepositions, use too many commas and pauses, and write using colloquialisms or current slang. However, even taking liberties such as those, I hate misspelling a word. I hate it more in the following circumstances:

If I see an official release on company letterhead or browse a business website, and there are glaring typos, something in me just clicks and sets me off. Sometimes I cannot read past the error. (I do this with published novels too, as does my mom. A typo just derails the train of mental engagement with the story.) My own company has issued quarterly reports, public notices, and so forth with typos that make me want to demand proof of educational credentials from the higher-ups who wrote said letters. Or at the least, volunteer to proofread important documents for them. I find it very unprofessional to have misspelled words on job applications, company descriptions, mission statements, and employee handbooks, among other things. How does that project a good image? In my opinion, it doesn't. It projects slackness, disinterest, and lower education, none of which I want to see from the managers/owners of a potential employer or investment opportunity.

I went to a website not long ago for a product I was researching. I didn't get past the main page of the website. The product description had no less than three misspelled words and the company info was wrong (commas in the wrong place and some proper words not capitalized). This was supposed to be a million-dollar business. You'd think, with such a slick web design that obviously set the advertising budget back a few dollars, someone would have proofread the content. I can't be the only one out there who immediately loses interest in purchasing anything from a company that can't even spell their own product name the same way on the same page! Ugh.

I just can't get past this, I really can't. I've started carrying a black marker around with me at work and changing all the scraping to scrapping. Also leaving commentary: "We can't scrape?" "Scrape what?" "We all scrape by. Is this no longer allowed?" "Pay me more and I won't have to scrape." etc. etc. ad nauseaum... I'm an ass. :-D

5 Years

*Moment of silence for the victims of 9/11/01 and their families*

Reading in Reading

• Breaking News: Steve Irwin "Crocodile Hunter" was killed by a stingray today while filming an underwater documentary at the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. RIP. (Yahoo News)

Back to our semi-regularly-scheduled post:
Today Hubby and I went to view the PostSecret exhibit at the Reading Public Museum. It was great, although I think I got more out of it than he did. I noticed the majority of the visitors (and there were quite a few, for a Sunday afternoon on a holiday weekend) were younger females. There was a pretty steady line of people reading the postcards on display though. A table was set up nearby, with a can of colored pencils on it and chairs all around. Next to it was a full-size mailbox that seemed to be made out of clear stretch-wrap or tape. (Really neat!) A note said to take a card and write your secret, put it in the box, and the author would collect them at the end of the exhibit's run. Unfortunately there were no blank cards to be found; I didn't have anything to say anyway. Several of the postcards on display already said what I would have written had I thought about it.

Secrets... I'm not sure I have any of my own, just those I keep for others. Fears, concerns, inspirations, dreams... yes, I have all those. I also have a big mouth and vocalize those things quite well. ;-P

This is the only one I photographed. It made me laugh, and can be applied to pretty much everyone that's near and dear to me:

Wiki gone Wacky

Hey Muppet-lovers!

Gael at PCJM just linked to Muppet Wiki, as well as the "Muppets eating other Muppets" section. I thought Trekkers were obsessed... er, obsessive... either way there is a lot of Muppet minutiae on that site. If you can still sing the long version of the theme song word-for-word, occasionally yell out PIGS IN SPAAAAACE for no reason, consider Swedish Pig-Latin a bona-fide language (as Klingon is to the Trekkers) and can't cook without adding a few vocal "bork-bork-borks," and once had wallpaper featuring the entire cast of the Muppet Show in your bedroom... not that I ever did any of those things, of course *ahem* but if you did... check the site out.

Here's your Obsessive/Nostalgic Clip of the Month: Most-Requested Muppet Skit.

Happy Birthday To Me

It's my birthday. But more importantly, it's 7 years to the day since my first date with my hubby. Best. Present. Ever! The gift that keeps on giving...

As for the day, since it's supposed to rain I wanted to stay in bed with a good Book and listen to the raindrops on the tin roof. Then Dad said they were coming over, so I have to actually get up in the A.M., get dressed, and make sure the house is presentable. We didn't go out tonight, both of us worked and we're too tired (and too broke) to make the effort.

So, tonight I played some old tunes, ate a burrito and cleaned off my desk. Whee. I haven't played my Birthday Song yet... "Happy Birthday" by Concrete Blonde... it became a kind of tradition when I lived in California, so I'll have to dig it out later. Otherwise, looks like it's going to be just another day around here. I hope somebody brings cake. Caaaake!

I Wanna Rock!

Our planned full trek through Rickett's Glen tomorrow has been postponed. It's supposed to rain again, and anyway we don't need/want to spend any more than necessary on gasoline right now. It's a ways away. Sure is a pretty place, though. I hope we get to go another time!

Another Work Post

My boss had his interview for the head grower position today. We're all pulling for him, although we really like working for him the way it is now. If he gets the position (and we're fairly sure he will) he'll move up the ladder and we'll be left without a plant manager (or whatever the company is calling that position now. It seems to change every 6 months or so).

That means his job will be open. I've spoken to a few people at work about who would be the best person for our plant, and whether they'll hire an outsider, or if they'll even hire anyone at all knowing that the site will be sold relatively soon. Surprisingly, like everyone assumes my boss is going to get the head position, they also assume a certain person will take his place.

That person is me.

Whoa.

Okay... I guess it makes sense, since I've been his backup/fill-in/weekend manager for a few years. But I usually focused on keeping the wheels turning, solving personnel and planning issues, scheduling, and dealing with the many mini-crises that occur in day-to-day operations. There is a LOT I don't know. For example, I don't have the horticultural background that others do; the chemistry and scientific nitty-gritty like knowing the ideal temperature ranges for each stage of X plant's growth, or the optimum Klux for said plant. This is one area in which I'm more hands-on than book-smart. Horticulture was never a field I'd considered, therefore I didn't pursue further education on the subject. Or any at all, for that matter.

On the other hand, I have several years' experience at this same plant. My boss thinks I could do it. Other people think I could do it. I think I could do it, too. Thing is, I don't believe I want to. These past couple of weeks have been stressful. Without getting into a lot of detail, I'll just say it's been manic. There is *no way* I can continue doing my own job plus take on all the additional responsibilities of managing our plant and crew full-time. I've been doing that lately, with my boss handling the technical stuff, and even with the two of us sharing the workload it's too much. Something will have to give... unfortunately, we're all stretched so tight now that if something did give we'd be in a world of backlash. Plus, the last person who took this position at another plant didn't get a raise. I'm underpaid NOW; I sure as heck ain't doing more for the same pay. "But it's an opportunity!" Yeah, an opportunity for the company to expect even more than they do without compensating me for it. What they expect now has already pushed my limits to the point where I don't want to do it anymore. A challenge is one thing, but taking full advantage of someone and doing so knowing full well that the person has to go along with it or quit is another thing entirely. And quite a few long-time employees have had enough and quit. I may not be the next one, but if they make it any more difficult I'll be on the short-timer list. I'm sucked dry, y'all. I have to ask myself if it's worth it, and if I am offered the position and decline, how that will affect my current status.

The *only* reason I'd consider it, at this point, is knowing we will have new owners within a few months and I may want to grab it while I can. It will look good on my next resume. ;-)

Creamsicle, ew!

I used to love Creamsicles. You know, those orange popsicles with vanilla ice cream inside. After today, I'm not sure I want another one for a good long time.

I had to go in for a couple of CAT scans today. I don't have a cat, and I couldn't catch one of the strays out back (suckers are quiiiick*) so I went empty-handed. One empty hand soon held a cup of orange sludge. I'd heard from other people that the dye solution or whatever the heck it is tasted nasty, so I was surprised to find that it looked and tasted just like a giant melted Creamsicle. I hadn't eaten anything since the night before (had to fast for X hours) so it was kinda nice getting to suck down something thick and halfway decent. Like those orange cream milkshakes that Arby's has now.

Anyway, the nice part was short-lived, since as soon as I finished the sludge I was given a second large cup of it. That one was a bit harder to get down. It coated my mouth and I wasn't supposed to have water or anything to cut the film (I always like having a glass of water after ice cream). But I finished it and it still wasn't awful, just a bit heavy. Went back to the prep room and lo and behold, a third cup of sludge awaited me. I chugged it to get it out of the way. Then I got to get an IV hooked up. I was a bit ticked now... I hadn't been told I was getting an IV; I'd thought it was one of those little dye packs they stick in the back of your hand. Nope. The sludge experience was forgotten and I managed to not pass out through the IV process, though there was a tense moment when I had to remind myself out loud to breathe. Thank the Lord I'm not diabetic or anything else that requires daily injections. I'd be a basket case.

After that it was easy. I never have been one of those people who freak out for MRIs; in fact I usually relax to the point of dozing off in the tunnel. The hammer noises are almost hypnotic to me. (I'm one who has fallen asleep in Row 8 at a NASCAR race, without earplugs, so MRI noise is a breeze.) This CAT machine, though, was an open tube and the scans went so quickly I barely had time to snooze. The tech did ask me once if I was asleep. I said yes. ;-P

So... an hour of drinking melted orange cream, five minutes of convincing myself not to go yell at my doctor for not warning me about the IV, and twenty minutes of kicking back in a machine, and I was done. Well, almost. I get the results from one scan at the end of the month and the others whenever my doc looks at them and calls me. I wanna see them too. That's probably the only really cool thing about having almost one's entire body scanned at one point or another. I get to see what I look like on the inside! One of these days I'm going to request copies of everything and make a collage by piecing all the parts together. "Self-Portrait" indeed!

*nod to Foxworthy

The Truth Comes Out

This morning started out like any other. I got up and went to work, with a growers' meeting on my agenda followed by working in the poinsettias and doing the usual routine stuff. I know I mentioned our head grower left us; my supervisor has shouldered the majority of his responsibilities, so I've been picking up the daily ops at our plant until our new grower is hired/announced.
Anyway, I got to work this morning to find a note pinned to the office door. It said, in one gal's handwriting, for my boss to be at the 8:30 meeting. In another gal's writing below it was "He won't be in today. E, please meet at Plant 1 breakroom 8:30." I thought we'd just moved the growers' meeting over there for some reason, so off I went.
All the employees were there, along with the site manager and company counselor. We were informed that the northeast division of our company was on the market and they hoped to have a buyer by the end of the year. We'd been hearing rumors, but apparently no one could confirm it until after the shareholders meeting. Our CEO made the official announcement last night after that meeting.

So. We're for sale again. Last time, it was a privately-owned business bought by a large company and merged with other sites to form the regional division. That's when we "went public" and the shareholders came into play. Now, it's one of the largest horticulture companies trying to unload four sites at once. We were told if they couldn't sell it as a package deal, each site would be sold individually. It's all about the bottom line.

Am I worried? On the contrary; I'm optimistic and a bit excited. I think it's about time we get some new blood in there, someone who can revamp the business and sales models and expand our customer base. Maybe fix our benefits so we aren't paying out the nose for them, or have more than just an HMO to choose from. Someone willing to invest not just in materials and equipment, but in the employees as well. Morale is the lowest I've seen in 7 years. We need change, we need incentive, we need a reason to be happy about going to work again. We DON'T want to see the results of our butt-busting hard work going into dumpsters by the truckload. There are some darn good employees (myself included, if I may be so bold) who would be more than willing to continue on provided we don't feel like we're building houses of cards in the eye of a hurricane. And that's what it's been like... just one thing after another, most of it out of our realm of influence. It's so frustrating seeing it happen and not being able to do a thing about it! Maybe the new owners will give us more of a voice... I doubt it, but it could happen. At any rate, I hope they realize the value of our input and (what's left of) our dedication and keep our tight crews together.

If not, I get a six-month paid vacation. Wee!

What's Around the Corner?

Of Hoff and Perry

I got laughed at last night. Twice. Why? I was chatting on IM and brought up the Random Question of the Day. In this case, it was:
"Ever look at a celebrity you crushed on way back when and wonder what the heck you were thinking?"
I got laughed at because I said I used to like David Hasselhoff.

Shut UP.

I mean it.

I tried to explain it was all about the car... well, who wouldn't like a guy, stupid hair or not, with a cool car like K.I.T.T.? And Devon had a nice accent. Yet I got laughed at for admitting I once liked the Hoff. I see him now and all I think is- in a word- EW. He doesn't even rate a few extra W's on the end of that EW either. I understand he's quite popular over the pond. I have no idea why; I've seen the videos and EW- followed by stunned disbelief that anyone can deliberately be so cheesy- is my usual reaction.

Another former crush of mine usually meets with agreement. Again, I have no idea why, as he is not what one would consider a stereotypically attractive person. In fact at the height of his popularity he was downright homely. Okay, maybe in the late 70's he was cute in a long-haired femme kind of way (much like Cher) but I came in at the tail end of that party.

I'm talking about Steve Perry, (former) lead singer for Journey. What was it that made him so popular with women? It couldn't have been *just* the voice, though that's what hooked me and kept me on the line for 25 years. And counting.

We liked him through the flamboyant effeminate hippie stage...
The slightly-chubby mullet-and-sideburns stage... (Click here for the ultimate in 80's cheese)...
The Big Hair and Faded Jeans With A Tailcoat era... (Hey, was that in Fresno?)

And the introspective older hippie (AKA the Melancholy) phase...
Then he chopped the hair off again for Gay Part II... We didn't care.
He gained weight... We didn't care.
There were more phases in between, like the transitional one from 70's to 80's and the One With The Hat from the Street Talk time. Through all his looks, a lot of women of my era, when hearing the name "Steve Perry," will say "Ooooh, he was so CUTE!" Some of them say that about him now. Ladies, once a man is in his 50's, calling him cute just seems weird.

I just don't know what the attraction was. Maybe the Portuguese looks? I know I crushed on a few guys just because they resembled him. (One of them, I believe, was a relative of his, though the guy never would tell me.) As far as I know, none of them could sing. Thus my interest was short-lived.

It had to be the combination of soulful vocals, unique persona and perhaps those cupids-bow lips, added to his dynamic stage presence and oh yeah, those tuxedo tails. With jeans and sneakers, no less. Whatever it was, mix it all up with a little bit of undefinable magnetism, a dab of Cheez Whiz and cream rinse by the gallon and there you go. Few did it like Steve Perry did, and that kind of unexplainable phenomenon may never be deciphered.

Gotta go... there's some Strange Medicine on the player, begging me to close my eyes and get lost in the music again. And a note to Steve: I don't care if you gain a hundred pounds, shave your head and wear polka-dotted pajamas... just SING, man! Sing already! I promise we'll fall in love with you all over again. History proves this to be true.

And stop laughing at me. For all I know, Steve Perry has a cool car too.

Before I go, here's one of my favorite Journey songs.

*Images cribbed from Google... if one is yours, drop me a line and I'll credit you for it.

Lucky Seven... I Think

This week marks 7 years at my current job. I was only hired for two weeks, as a temp to help out with the baby poinsettias. On my first day, I met my future husband... here it is, seven years later, and today I did the exact same thing I was doing when I first started. I'm with the same man. I even have the same car! (Still have the first ball cap I wore there, hanging in the closet... it has "bite me" written on the back in black Sharpie.)

Once I decided to move here, I said I would stay for a few months to see if I liked it. My whole life was changing and I wasn't about to commit to a job I'd gotten just to make some quick cash. A few months later, I said I'd give it a year. Then I said if my friend and mentor, the woman who hired me, ever quit I'd be out the door behind her since it wouldn't be the same. Instead, I took over her job when she did leave. I learned that I was pretty good at it, although I still couldn't see myself making it a long-term position. At the time, every employee who reached a milestone (5,10, 15 years, etc) was awarded their choice of company-logo items. I always liked the stereotype of a business giving an employee a watch and there was one I liked in the awards book, so I started saying "I'm stayin' till I get my watch." Six months prior to my five-year anniversary, they canceled the awards program. No watch, but I did have health and vision insurance for myself and my husband, so I kept on.

At our "Rewards and Recognition" employee meeting today, when my name was called by the site manager to acknowledge my anniversary, I asked "Am I up for parole yet?" She rolled her eyes while the other manager laughed. I must say, though, it was nice to hear how many people clapped when my name was called. The managers didn't have to encourage anyone to do it. That's a pretty good feeling. It's their anniversary too... they've put up with me for quite a while! (My sarcasm and occasional indignation don't always go over well.)

So... I've served seven years of an open-ended sentence. I get time off for good behavior in December. I still want that watch, though. Maybe in another three years...?

Christmas in July!

End of the season... seems a long way off!

Some people think that it's fun to celebrate Christmas in July. Other people think those people are nuts. I am from the latter camp.

Ironically (or not- 'tis the season, after all) we just got our first set of poinsettias at work this week. They've actually been on-site for a while, but my section gets them after the plugs are potted. Hence, Christmas in July. That's one reason I think the people who want to acknowledge the unholiday are nuts. Freaking poinsettias! Ugh.

I spent the better part of the morning babysitting a trio who were, hands down, the least motivated (read: lazy) employees I've ever seen there. On top of that, they took half-hour breaks, went to the bathroom as a group, and did not even attempt to do even the simplest tasks correctly despite having them personally demonstrated (repeatedly) and with people standing next to them watching! They just laughed and continued to goof off. As a result, several areas had to be moved and re-spaced by crew leaders and myself, and the site manager made an appearance to check out the situation. I understand that the unwiseguys will not have jobs tomorrow. Ouch! (By the way, I had nothing to do with that. Their crew is under different leadership. I was attempting, unsuccessfully, to train them since their own crew leader refused to even speak to them anymore. That should have been my first clue.) Merry Christmas, guys.

The rest of the day was spent in the by-now-familiar hectic frenzy known as Day One. Set down, hand-feed, rinse, repeat. Drag hoses. Set mist clocks. Watch mist cycle. Get everyone wet when mist goes off without warning. Adjust leaves, adjust pots, adjust valves, adjust mist, adjust hoses... by the time we're done, everything is well-adjusted except us. We're frazzled.

I will say, though, that the closest thing I personally have to a "maternal instinct" kicks in when the new little points arrive. They are my babies; I worry about them. I did not like leaving today, not being there to watch over them and make sure they were all getting their mist on time and getting fed and so on. As much as I hate the interminable green growing stage of poinsettias, I love the beginning. I love movingmovingmoving, setting everything up, all the details that ensure a healthy start. Once they're esablished I'll go into Hate Mode, which will increase a hundredfold by the time December rolls around and I've decided which lucky plant gets to be stomped at the end of the season. Poinsettia stomping should be sanctioned by our company, it really should. There would be a lot fewer agitated employees going spastic after looking at the %$&# things for 6 months straight. I know it always makes me feel better!

Down on Main Street

I was just reading another blog, and one line caught my attention. The writer said "I've never lived on Main Street before."

I wonder what the odds are that any of us will, at any point in our lives, reside on Main Street. Almost every town and city, borough and hamlet has a Main Street. Here in Pennsylvania, the odds are about the same as living on Railroad Street, since every town* seems to have one of those as well. We've been living on Main Street for over six years, but I never really thought about it before. It is kinda cool. Most Main Streets are downtown (or what passes for it in our case) right in the heart of the population. Our "city limits" total one square mile. Main Street becomes Route Such-and-Such on either end of the mile, so there isn't a whole lot of street to our main.

If there is an American small-town common denominator, this is it. Main is what it says; no originality there. But in most cases, that will be the hub of the community. Even though our borough is tiny it's still true. I can walk to wherever I need; the little local grocery, post office, gas station, sub shop, firehall, bank, and church. Anyone who drives through has to cross our road or go along it. Our porch looks over the street; people honk and wave at us as they go by, parades turn the corner in front of the firehall next door, high-school sports teams ride up and down after a victory cheering and blasting sirens, Amish buggies drive by en route to one farm or another. Always something happening here on Main Street in spite of this being a wee little farm town without any fast-food places, chain stores, bars, or an actual traffic light. (Ours is just a flashing light at the four-way stop.) I like it here. It has its drawbacks and I'd hate living on Main in a more urban area but this... this is okay. We won't stay here forever but for now I like being part of American nostalgia and tradition.

*Yes, I know there is only one designated "town" in PA. But it's easier to say town than to figure out which is a hamlet, burg, borough, township, etc. For the record, ours is a borough.


Main street isn't main street anymore
Lights don't shine as brightly as they shone before
Tell the truth, lights don't shine at all
In our town
Sun comes up each morning
Just like it's always done
Get up, go to work, start the day,
Open up for business that's never gonna come
As the world rolls by a million miles away
Main street isn't main street anymore
No one seems to need us like they did before
It's hard to find a reason left to stay
But it's our town
Love it anyway
Come what may, it's our town.
~James Taylor, "Our Town"

Bad Week, Good Week

Bad:

• It's been miserably hot.
  
• I've been working in the fields since Tuesday. Add "miserably hot" to "standing on black plastic mats in the sun all day." Yuck.
  
• I got sunburned too, in spite of using sunblock. It isn't very effective when you're in among sprinklers. (FYI, the water is warm too. Double yuck.)
• Our head grower, the guy who handles all the Big Important Stuff, just took another job and will be leaving in a couple of weeks. Nobody knows who will replace him.
  
• The Bronco is injured. There is a 2-foot-long gouge in the right-rear fender, not just to the paint but the metal is even pushed in along the gouge. The fender trim is bent too.
  
• Stepped on a tomato hornworm. ICK ICK ICK ICK
  

Good:

• My boss is back, yay! Had enough stress the last two weeks; he can have it back now. I don't want it!
• My eagles are back! That's the best part of being in the fields, seeing the critters, and especially the golden eagles. They're nesting again this year! Got a great show today when one of them was doing lazy circles over the fields. Usually I hear them but don't see them; today was exceptional.
• Got a private message from a semi-famous singer. Coolness...
  
• Also got several songs I'd never heard before from a particular demo tape and spent a while rockin' out.
• Hubby and I cooked dinner together tonight. We should do that more often, we always have fun!
• Supposed to drop down into the 80s for a cold snap. ;-P At this point I'll take it.

Things I was really wishing for this past week:

• My own swimming pool
• A trip to Alaska
  
• Ice
• Better air conditioning at home
• ANY cool air at work
  
• Going to the movies just cause I always freeze in there

See a theme here?

Ah well, in the grand scheme of things it's all trivial. "And this, too, shall pass..."

Where's the ice?

No chains, same Mr. T!

Just ran across this blog post and simply had to share it! If you're a child of the 80's you'll appreciate this.

If you could ask Mr. T a question, would you get the best response EVER?

I pity the fool!


;-)

Sun-derful Days!

It's hot out there. I don't mean typical summertime heat, but muggy sticky swim-through-the-air humid and temps in the 90s to boot. "Welcome to the Jungle" is (once again) my theme song for working in a greenhouse. I must be crazy! Heat is supposed to continue most of this week... bleah.

However, I didn't work today. Yay! Hubby and I went in search of sweet corn, since the fella we usually buy it from has been sold out and packed up rather early all week. We headed over to the flea and farmer's market in Lewisburg. Lo and behold, ONE vendor still had butter & sugar sweet corn! We bought two dozen ears. Our plan is to spend tomorrow evening (once it cools down) washing our patio furniture and hosing off the porch, then we're going to have BBQ sandwiches and corn outside. We also bought sweet cherries and plums.

While in Lewisburg we stopped for lunch and ran into my aunt and uncle, whom we haven't seen since Christmas. After lunch hubby and I went to their house for iced tea and a nice chat. We took over some perennials and I got the landscape tour. Aunt has so many plants and flowers in her yard! I want to see it next spring when all her tulips come up. She also gave me some photos, one of hubby and I from Christmas and an old one of my grandparents that I'd never seen. It was nice to visit with them again!

A while later, as we were making our usual round of the car dealerships, we stopped at one of the many "dairy bars" in the area. I had a real vanilla malt, something I love and rarely find anymore. (Side note: Sonic's malts are horrible. Once you've had a real one you'll know what I mean.) Then we cruised over to drop in on some friends, gave them some corn and made tentative plans to get together next weekend.

Quote of the week: Hubby and I were talking about the folks that live near the golf course. I mentioned that we should have bought a house that was for sale there before all the commercial development came in and drove the prices up, and he said no, because of all the wayward golf balls. He told me he's delivered to people there with dents in their siding and garages, a guy who boarded up one of his windows because he was tired of replacing it, and a woman who went outside to pick up all the golf balls in her yard before he arrived so he wouldn't slip on any while delivering her treadmill. Hubby summarized-deadpan- "The problem is, golfers... are bad golfers."

Maybe you had to be there, but it was so true (for the most part) that I'm still laughing about it. I just think of the time when I was driving down the highway by the course and saw a golf ball go by. I think it was speeding. ;-)

R.I.P

Earnest W. Reece 1913-2006

My husband's grandfather passed away on Saturday at age 93. Pop-Pop was quite a character who always had a story to tell! B last saw him on Pop's birthday last month; they had cake and talked and Pop was his feisty self. He was much loved by his family and I'm sure he'll find an audience waiting in Heaven!

Aren't you lucky!

After reading several message boards and catching up on everything Journey post-Steve Perry, I wrote out a nice long diatribe on the subject. I accidentally clicked "save draft" instead of "post" and I don't feel like re-reading it right now, so you all get this instead:

* Winning at carnival bingo is nice. Spending most of the winnings to continue playing bingo is kind of silly. Doesn't matter though, I like playing bingo (I call it "practicing for old age") and I like supporting the local fire company. Aside: the firemen left their posts in the middle of the carnival to go on a call. Nobody complained. We love our volunteers!
* How is it possible to have "too much mud" for a 4x4 truck jamboree?
* Learning experience: flamethrower + weeds = bad smell. And a lot of smoke.
* Learning experience, part II: flamethrower ignition device + wood office wall = oops. See above appreciation for firemen.
* CJ's Law of Greenhouses I: everything that can go wrong, will go wrong... the day the boss goes on vacation.
* CJ's Law of Greenhouses II: your main water source will be shut off indefinitely on the worst possible day. See above.
* Every good business or product name is already taken, by a business or product that has nothing to do with your own.
* XM station 49 (Big Tracks) is my current favorite. Also have the song "Brick House" stuck in my head right now.

We're off to Chryslers at Carlisle! Hope the campground isn't flooded. "No open flame" rule sucks, but in light of previous events, probably a good thing. ;-P

No-Name Flood

That's right... unlike Agnes in 1972, and Ivan a couple years ago, the PA Flood of 2006 doesn't have a name. Going by river levels, it's the third-worst on record. But it wasn't caused by any named storm, therefore has no title to attach to it.

I think I'm going to call it the Reality Check Flood of 06. In my eyes, that's exactly what it was. Anyone who thinks they're inconvenienced because the closest store is out of your favorite brand of soda, try dealing with having no WATER for several days. Parts of Bloomsburg had the water shut off due to a main break during the flood; people have had to get their drinking water from container trucks. There's a food distribution tent set up just off Main Street. The street is lined with industrial-sized dumpsters now full of belongings, furniture, and debris people are hauling out of their soggy homes. There are more piles of stuff in yards. Cars are sitting with their doors open as owners hope their vehicles will dry out and be salvageable. Windows are open, fans are on, cleanup has begun. It's incredibly sad and shocking.

In all, it's mostly material objects that can be replaced or done without. But it's also homes ruined, lives disrupted, more than a minor inconvenience when people either can't get to work or have to call off or even work around their job hours so they can rip out the drywall and cart waterlogged items outside and take photos for insurance claims and make sure their kids aren't playing in contaminated runoff and bleach everything to stave off mold and feed their families from outdoor grills or Salvation Army donations and try to somehow keep on keeping on.

Granted, our flood was nowhere near the magnitude of Katrina. I hope there never is another on that scale. But it's devastating all the same, especially when it hits home and involves people I know. Therefore, Reality Check '06. The wake-up call to tell us that disaster can happen to anyone, anywhere, even in our own backyards; a lesson for those who weren't around for the other big floods and a reminder to those who were.

And to cap it all, we're still getting rain off and on.

Hey God, we're awake now. Can you fix that leak in the sky, please? Thanks!

Flood 06

Pennsylvania is wet, y'all. Just about all of it got some damage from the rain, in the form of road closings, washouts, and mostly flooding. A lot of areas have been evacuated. The northeastern part of the state seems to have been hit the hardest; we're just on the edge between NEPA and the central valley region. Below are some photos I took today of our region.

This used to be someone's enclosed porch, judging by the lamp and the ceiling fan.

Sign O' The Day!

The Twin Bridges were recently restored. The hubby and I have been across this set of covered bridges and fished just above them. This is all I could find of the west-side bridge.

East Paden Twin Bridge and the foundation of the now-gone West bridge.

The Susquehanna River invades Bloomsburg.

One of many.

Talk about an opportunist! :-)

Tree down on power lines over flooded road = not good.

Used to be a road on the left and ball field on the right. Now it's been claimed by the Susquehanna overflowing its banks.

Some of the things we saw today... cows standing in water up to their knees, campers and trailers submerged, cars washed off the road, roads caving in and crumbling, mud and rock slides, downed trees everywhere, houses with water up to the windows, washed-out bridges, fast-moving muddy water, people in town with everything that was in their basements and on the first floors piled under tarps in their yards... and our area wasn't even the hardest-hit. We are very fortunate that where we live seems to be above the flood plain. Our creek was high but never reached the road; other places here were flooded (including my dad's house; he had a creek running across his driveway) but right at our place everything stayed above water.

The folks who were flooded could sure use some prayers.

More news and photos: www.wnep.com

Eh Day

Weekend roundup:

• Went to Carlisle on Sunday for the GM show. It was mostly rainy and we got soaked to the bone, then froze in the Waffle House air conditioning. The chili we ordered wasn't heated up enough, but the coffee was good and I finally got a great slice of lemon pie.
• Got chills on the way home; stopped and bought a cheap throw blanket to wrap up in.
• Felt like poo the rest of the night, all day Monday, and called off work today. Everything either hurts or feels like it's 15 pounds heavier than it should be. My back is killing me, my glands are swollen and painful, and I have a headache. I hate it.
  
• Speaking of rain, it's weathering out there again today. It's supposed to rain every day this week, anywhere from a 60% to a 100% chance from now through the weekend. This does not bode well for our plan to camp at the cabin Sunday night. Hubby wants to waterproof our tent, but we have no place to set it up where it won't be in the rain so he can do that.
• I learned how to use a morphing program I got with my editing software. Hubby's sister and her roommate were here visiting from North Carolina; we took pics of them and the dog and kitten they brought along and made some funny morphs. B's sis was leaving earlier than we thought. It was nice to see her and her friend for a while; glad we got to visit before they left for home. Last time we were down South we didn't make it to their place.
  
• We let my 16-year-old brother drive down to Harrisburg and back, his first time driving in city traffic. In the rain, no less. He did okay, only a couple of times when the clench factor zoomed up to 8 or 9. B was navigating, Dad was explaining various driving techniques, and I was in charge of bopping my brother in the back of the head. ;-P

What was the highlight of the weekend? Hmm, that would be a toss-up between Waffle House and seeing the display cars that were still at the show. Camaros and pie, yay! Being sick, boo!

He's a Dream!

When I was younger I said I'd never get married. As I got a bit older, I changed my mind, but in my dreams I wasn't going to get hitched to any old Joe Shmoe. Like a lot of fantasy-obsessed young women, I dreamed of being a "kept woman," married to a wealthy, gorgeous underwear-model-type who gave me everything I wanted and took me on exotic trips. Other women would fawn over my man and tell me how fortunate I was to have him.

And then I woke up.

And married Joe Shmoe... but you know what?

I'm a kept woman. He keeps me safe and happy. He keeps my car running, keeps the rent paid, keeps track of things I forget, keeps me laughing, and keeps coming home every night after work.

He's wealthy. He has unlimited smiles, hugs, kisses, and love for me. He has a rich sense of humor and a heart of gold. He gives me everything I could want from a partner, husband, and friend.

To me, he's gorgeous. He has blue eyes and great hair and long legs and looks mighty fine in a cowboy hat and boots. Just ask Mom... ;-P

Other women love him. Our nieces run straight for him when he shows up, grab him and vie for his attention. My best friend wants to clone him. My relatives tell me I'm lucky to have him.

We go on unusual trips all the time. On our honeymoon, he took me fishing in a rainstorm. We went to the Philadelphia Asian and Italian districts, plus rode in an ambulance to the ER, for our first anniversary. We've slept in the back of a pickup at a NASCAR race, floated down a creek in a rowboat with hundreds of bats flying around us, challenged the suspension on our other truck getting to a cabin in the Smokies, been serenaded on the stage at the Grand Ole Opry (during tourist hours), come out ahead in Atlantic City, nearly got steamrollered by a pro wrestler at a match, and walked on a southern beach in shorts on New Years Day while our northern relatives were shoveling snow. We've been stranded in a broken-down vehicle more than once, climbed down a mountain in a snowstorm (lugging a deer), and seen the World's Largest Pothole. No shortage of excitement there.

And as for the underwear-model part... I buy him new underwear, he wears them. What more could I ask for?

Our anniversary is in a couple of weeks and not once in the four years we've been married or the seven years we've been together have I regretted anything. In fact, I believe my dream came true. Funny how that works!

LOVE YOU HUNNY!!! XXXOOO

A visit from the Queen

Our bucolic area isn't exactly on a list of Greatest Places to Visit. The local college isn't on Playboy's Party List. In fact, the only list we've made recently (that I know of) is 100 Weirdest Places to Visit, and that wasn't even us, it was a nearby town with an underground mine fire that's been burning for decades.

Needless to say, celebrity spotting just doesn't happen here. Maybe there are local celebs who keep a low profile (Jack Palance) or former residents stopping by (Mike Mussina) but you'll never hear of someone running into, say, Julia Roberts or even heirhead Paris Hilton (who seems to be EVERYwhere). Sometimes during Fair Week a musical guest will turn up in the Big Town, but they're usually good ol' boys like everyone else.

Somehow, though, we rated a regal visit by her Highness, Queen Oprah of the Media. Yes, Oprah Winfrey and entourage were "just passing through" and stopped at the area's classiest restaurant (natch) for some grub. Okay... nobody "just passes through" here. Turns out the Divine Miss O is documenting a road trip slated to be aired as a segment this fall. She was en route to New York; apparently someone in her group called the restaurant and made reservations for 20 people for lunch using his/her own name, and no one at the restaurant knew it was for Oprah until she walked in the door. Also not known is whether any footage was shot during her stop that might make it to air.

Restaurant owner Marty Walzer said he didn't know why Oprah chose his restaurant for dinner. "I'm almost guessing they found our Web page," he speculated. But he's not complaining.

"What could be more pleasing than to be able to show some small gesture of service to someone who has done as much as Oprah has for so many people?" said Mr. Walzer. "We were certainly very pleased and thrilled she would get that far off the interstate to eat lunch here." (source: Daily Item)

The wait staff said Oprah didn't stay long, but did pose for pictures and "left a nice tip."

Here's my six degrees: one of the gentlemen who waited on Oprah is the brother of a guy I used to work with, and I once helped on a catering job for that restaurant. (My boss's wife used to be a manager there.) So any far-flung connection I have comes through my own place of work, which has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with Oprah... unless she wants to do a segment on ballooning health-insurance premiums in high-risk labor jobs. Or investigate the mysterious "purple haze" that the large plant across the street swears is an "air inversion," not the crap they pump into the environment that makes us all choke and wheeze and tear up instantly. But I digress....

This apparently isn't her first trip to this area. My husband is from a town about 15 minutes away. He told me back when the newly-redesigned Ford Thunderbirds came out (the retro-looking ones) Oprah was looking for one in a certain color. The dealership in his hometown had one, so she went there to buy it. I haven't verified this but someone said it was a turquoise T-Bird and that sounds very Oprah-ish to me so I'm going with it.

I wish I had a new T-Bird...

Nature's Irony and Other Bits

• My husband is going to bale hay this weekend. A lot of folks have been trying to do the same but the weather hasn't been cooperating... we've had rain and hail in between the hot days for the past week or so. Yesterday was a good "drying" day with late sun and a breeze so maybe they'll be able to bale today.
  
• The head grower at work (my boss's boss) forgot to put in my vacation request again. I was actually betting on him not submitting it, but the result is that I didn't get paid for taking last weekend off. So I decided to use the time next month for another weekend. The double whammy: my boss will be on vacation... I usually take over while he's gone... now neither of us will be there, and the guy who forgot to put my vacation time in will have to step in. Bet he doesn't forget next time!
• Don't mess with Momma Nature! Yesterday I was walking through the service area/loading dock. There was a cardboard box lying on its side on top of a big soil bale. Something in the box moved when I walked by... I looked, and a young kestrel was perched on the inside edge of the box, not three feet away! I called a couple of the guys to come look, thinking maybe we could fold the flaps up, trap the bird in the box, and take him outside where there was food and light and all those things birds need. I didn't want to risk getting pecked or talon'ed, but one guy walked right up to the kestrel and carefully closed the flaps without incident. We took the box out behind the building and let the bird go in our field... he flew straight to the roof, where unbeknownst to us, a family of robins had a nest full of babies. The robins went nuts and started screeching and dive-bombing our poor little kestrel. Then a red-winged blackbird joined the cacophony, swooping at the robins AND the kestrel. Poor little guy! What a wake-up call... he hadn't quite mastered the art of flying except in a straight line, but he did get away eventually. (More about kestrels, with photos, HERE.)
• In other critter news, we watched another set of baby robins fly the coop last week. They nested on the braces right over our heads in our outdoor "lunch hut." When the last one left, after hanging around pooping on everything for three days, he went in a straight line directly from the hut towards the truck staging area. We watched, saying "He's heading for a trailer." "Is he gonna hit the side of the rig?" "Nah, he'll pull up before he gets there...." WHAP, slide, thud *little poof of dust rises* "Oh. Guess not." He was okay though. Flew off finally. Maybe a little brain damaged now, but I believe all robins are demented anyway.
• I have scrapbook fever again. For once, I was in on a "fad" when it first got big, as in a decade ago. Even though people have been making scrapbooks for ages, that was when manufacturers started coming out with a bunch of neat little gizmos and tools and templates and such. I did two or three pages before moving on to something else (My last page was my nephew's birth announcement. He's 7 now.) Last week, after looking at the hundreds of photos on my computer, I thought it would be neat to make some "hard copy" scrapbook pages and spend time with the hubby in the evenings putting it together. We went to A.C. Moore. I think my eyes bugged out a good inch... when did all this STUFF come out? Nobody even has to be creative anymore, it's all done for them! Just buy preprinted papers, preprinted titles, pre-inked stamps, premade cutouts and page kits, add a photo or two and stick it all together with some handy no-mess glue strips and you're done! Yeesh. I mean I know it's a Big Thing; scrapbook classes, groups, and shops have popped up everywhere over the past few years and some people actually DO make their own add-ons. But other than "do I put the bunny cutouts on the right side or the left?" there's hardly any skill or thinking involved anymore, as long as one has the money to buy all the premade items. I'm going to be defiant and use old-fashioned Elmer's glue.
  
• 'Nuff writing, but I want to leave you with an awesome link. This guy takes balloon animals to the level of art form... the farther down you scroll the more incredible it gets!
  

Friends and Fun

Just a bit more on the weekend...

While waiting outside a pavilion for a guest appearance to start, I got jumped! This woman came running and launched herself on me... it was Sally, a friend and former co-worker, who was at the show with her boyfriend Jack (one of my hubby's good friends). We haven't seen either of them in months so it was great to chat a bit and get a picture. Would have been nice to have dinner together, but they were leaving earlier than we were. Maybe next time.

I got a few photo ops I couldn't pass up. Here's me with two Bills: Goldberg and Carlisle Events co-founder Bill Miller.And so I don't hog the blog, here's my husband learning why he can never buy a Shelby Cobra; he doesn't fit in one!


We both got to sit in it, but Hubby was so excited that he forgot to take my photo. That's okay though. I was invited to pose for a pic in a Ford Skyliner and he wasn't. ;-P
As I said, we had a great time. Everyone was nice, food was incredible, doing it again in a few weeks (but just a day trip next time). If you're at Carlisle come say hi! We love to meet new people!

Weekend at Carlisle

Oh, where to begin?!?

We just had the most fantabulous weekend in ages... only thing that could have made it better would be if we'd gotten some fishing in somewhere. (I just found out that we're going to the cabin over the 4th of July, so look out fishies!)

Okay, if you read my car blog, you know that we went to the All-Ford Nationals at Carlisle this weekend. Our original hope was to have our Bronco on the show field for the Bronco 40th Anniversary but schedules just didn't allow it. That turned out to be a non-issue, since everything else was so much fun that we weren't too disappointed.

Quick recap: we saw a former Atlanta Falcon/WCW wrestler, got to sit in a Shelby Cobra, listened to a man recount stories from Vietnam, had a great dinner and an even better breakfast, met some nice folks, took a buttload of photos, walked a zillion miles over two days looking at cars, were given VIP passes by a Carlisle show founder, played in the mud in the parking area, saw a little Ford Focus literally smoke the bigger cars and trucks in a burnout competition, and had some of the BEST pulled-pork BBQ north of the Mason-Dixon line. (Holy pigsticks, Batman, that was awesome BBQ...)

Now we're home, and I have to cook again.

Also need to sleep... will post more over the next few days!