Thought Garden

Have you ever seen what passes for dirt in Alabama? It’s ugly. It’s a reddish-orange, dense, clay-like ground that somehow manages to get a coating of green every year. Weeds seem to have no problem growing in it but good things struggle to strive in this inhospitable environment. The earth packs down and turns brick-hard in the hot southern summers.



It’s hard to grow anything in this hateful soil.

My attempts to grow myself are hampered by a similar dense, clay-like soil. Sure, there is some growth but weeds grow more readily than nourishing plants.

I’m struggling to figure out how I’ve allowed my foundation to turn into something hard and averse to growth. I’ve become stagnant and infertile. I used to engage in self-discovery. I believed I would make a difference. Instead, I’ve allowed complacency and procrastination and fear keep me from being who I am. Whether it was deliberate or unintended, I’ve allowed so many other external activities to crowd my head that I didn’t have time to think about what was happening to me. I’ve compromised myself, not because it was demanded or requested or expected, and I’m trying to figure out why and how I can change it.

This is my thought garden.

This is hard. There’s lots of digging. I’m pulling up roots and rocks and trying to put good things in their place. I’m amending my soil soul.

To do that, I have to indulge in some more of that do-it-yourself psychoanalysis. I have to admit my faults. It involves some wallowing… I guess that’s the right word. I have to go back and visit those hard places. I have to re-examine those times in my life where I went off my path - where I abandoned self in the name of peace or obligation or fear or laziness.

I Did Promise Ridiculous Posts...

I've mentioned that I'm doing some home improvement projects. Even more recently, I wrote about needing to do some of that do-it-yourself psychoanalysis. I'll call that internal improvement. I've also gone back to school for some educational improvement. Then, to top it off, I've joined a gym (and I actually go!) so I can work on some physical improvement. I joke all the time that, "I'm old and I'm tired and my everything hurts."

Well, the truth is that I'm not that old, I shouldn't feel that tired and if my everything is hurting now it's not going to get any better as I get closer to being that old. Plus, I've added a couple of , um, several more pounds than I'm comfortable with having gained. I'm not at my heaviest but I was getting close enough that it scared me.

So, I promised some ridiculousness.

The other day, I changed into my workout clothes so I could go to the gym and get sweaty and buff and stuff. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and thought, "Ack! This is not flattering at all. I can't be seen in public in this!"

Then, I gave myself a mental slap upside the head, went to the gym in my unflattering clothes so I could work on getting back to the point where I like the way I look. It was great inspiration to really get into my workout.

When I got home, I realized that I had my shirt on backwards. Doofus and a fashion NO? Double score!


*********
In other news, Garnier Fructis hairspray and Scrubbing Bubbles both are packaged in green cans. They are both aerosol products. Both can often be found in bathrooms.

They are not interchangeable.

Arrggh!!!

I hate to post this now because it will push down the post I did about Jane's Divine Inspiration but since this is for her - and for me - it seems like it might be okay.

Dar Williams
This Is Not The House That Pain Built

My house is hard to find, but I'll give you directions,
You can visit sometime, down where all that I built surrounds me
Just make sure your car's got good shocks
There's steep hills, there's potholes, there's rocks
I work in the garden, my son plays around me
Close the gate behind you, there's a horse that can't get out
I will see you first, is that all right
And can you remember, can you remember

This is not the house that pain built
This is not the house that pain built
I was drowning in something, I jumped in the rift
And you knew me back then, when I spat on my gift, but no

It's tough and it's tiring when you go it alone
I learned about wiring, I learned about stone
The building is done but the work's never through
And I won't give up, no how, it reminds me of who I am and where I am now
I remember myself, that's the work that I do
On a spring night when the snow is melting
You'll see two sets of footprints walking
Look at all the stars, and turn around, and walk home,
Slowly walk home.

This is not the house that pain built
That is not a house that pain built
My friends all think that I holed up and hid
But I tell them I didn't, you know I don't think I did, no.

And this is where I let my pain go
This is where I let my pain go
This is where the footprints dance in the snow


I've run my ooh-ick-trojan-pop-up-virus-dealio and it didn't yell at me but visit this link at your own risk if you'd like to hear the song.

Inspiration

There are certain people who inspire me. Oftentimes, they are people I’ve never met: writers/bloggers, activists, politicians (rarely, but still). I’m also inspired by people I know: coworkers, family, and friends. Very recently, inspiration came from a blogger/writer who I also consider a friend.

Duchess Jane is that person.

She’s also known as Beth but she is and always will be royalty, in my opinion, so I love the “Duchess” moniker. I’d like to tell you why.

Jane writes about what is real. She writes about what is hard. She digs down deep into her soul, her heart, and her pain. She describes what she discovers in ways that evoke emotion – strong, life-changing emotion – and in ways that inspire those of us who don’t/can’t find that truthfulness in our writing.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t live truth. I do. I try really hard to always be honest with myself and my feelings. I try to not be false or dishonest in anything I do. Unfortunately, I sometimes find that I don’t write about my truth. The reasons for that vary but, usually, it’s associated with not wanting to hurt people. I worry that sharing my experience puts other peoples’ experiences out there for others to examine. I worry, even if I don’t name names, that people will assume they know who I’m discussing. That’s one of the dangers of non-anonymous writing. People who know me in real life read what I write. They will see themselves whether or not I’m writing about them.

I have been a coward.

Jane is not. (I tried, but can not find, the link to Jane's post about how people should not assume but should ask if a certain post is about them.)

Yesterday, Jane wrote about how Empires Weren't Built Here, Part 1. I read it today and, once again, I was in awe of her ability to yank feeling out of words. She talked about dying and what would be left. What would her last words be… out there in the ether on the Internet. Would it be something meaningful? Would people look at her last status update? Her last blog post? Her last Tweet? What if something tragic happened and she survived? Would people look at that and what she wrote?

She wrote about writing of experiences and whether she should chronicle those encounters. She wrote about her anxiousness concerning that. She wrote, “…would I succumb to this fear of being viewed as a pillager of my own tragedies and betrayer of my family, peddling their pain for pennies on the internet?”

I understood this all too well.

It seems so lame to say, “Me, too!” “I know!” “I feel that!” “Yes, yes, YES!”

I waited until my blog reader updated; thankfully, it was quickly. Empires Weren’t Built Here, Part 2 showed up soon after. This one was harder for me. I’m going to change the way I describe this. Writing is good but it felt like Jane was talking, confessing, exposing and confiding. So, I’ll now say that she spoke to me. She talked about love. She talked about hopes and dreams and joining. She also talked about losing ourselves in relationships. She talked of dreams lost and compromises and stagnation.

I can’t blog from work. That’s probably a good thing.

I can read. Sometimes, I can comment on some blogs but not on others. I will check out my favorites when I take a break or eat lunch.

Today, after I read Jane’s blog, I did something very uncharacteristic. I am a workaholic. I keep my life very compartmentalized. I am all business when it comes to my job. Today was different. I closed my door and I put my “teleconference” note on the door.

I cried.

I.do.not.cry.at.work.

Well, okay, I did once at my last job and I’ll probably (thanks to Jane) write about that one day.

Why did I cry today?

I saw myself in her words. This is not to say that any other person is to blame for what happened to me. Actually, I blame only me for what I did to myself.

There is a very fine line between compromising for the sake of a relationship and sacrificing what is integral to our souls. I made sacrifices that were not asked of me.

I’ve known that I wanted needed to write since I was nine years old. I’ve wanted to write about fun. I’ve wanted to write about self-exploration. I’ve wanted to write to entertain. I’ve wanted to write to be understood.

I work in a job where my writing is technical. It doesn’t satisfy my heart and soul. I created this blog so I could write about what matters to me. I found myself shackled by frustration and compassion and fear and kindness. I lost a little a lot of myself in that.

I need to say this: MrWurdi always encouraged me to write. He encouraged exploration of my soul and my heart and my dreams. I’ll always love him for many reasons but, especially, because of that. The restrictions that were on me were those I placed all on my own.

I used to work on my car. I used to go to the range and shoot. I used to hunt. I used to build things. I used to be more social. I don’t know that I stopped these activities because of relationships. Did I get lazy? Did I get complacent? Did other things become more important? Those are questions that I will be asking myself for some time to come.

Do-it-yourself psychoanalysis is hard. It means that you have to revisit those experiences that are hard. It means digging down into your pain, wallowing just a little bit, and understanding it. It means overcoming the pain – again – and growing because of your understanding.

There is something important that I learned today. I learned that I need to be like Jane. I need to write about what is real. I need to write about what is hard and painful and meaningful. That means that I might write about things that are uncomfortable. It means that I may write about things that make other people uncomfortable. That is really hard for me.

I want and need to be honest. It is part of who I am.

Stay tuned. There will still be ridiculous posts and random thoughts but I think this blog may change a little bit.

Thank you, Jane.

Rock Out With Your Caulk Out

~Am I supposed to caveat this by saying that I received no payment or product for this review?~

I've mentioned that I was doing some home improvement work. Part of the doing the home improvement means that I have to follow up and finish the darned home improvement stuff. I am at the caulking stage for several of my projects.

I've never caulked before now. I was talking to my dad about it and he mentioned seeing an ad on the television (As Seen On TV!) for this caulking tool kit called PROCaulk. He admitted that it might be complete crap and not work but said the commercials looked pretty convincing. I agreed to be the guinea pig.

Of course, before starting any project, research is a good idea. I googled, "How to Caulk." There are LOTS of web pages and videos dedicated to removing old caulk and putting down new. They are extremely intimidating. After watching several of them, I was feeling a bit out of my league. I don't even have any mineral spirits. I had already gone through three rolls of painter's tape for the painting projects. I was not looking forward to putting down even more of it. Damp rags, excess caulk (I am so not going to make some kind of inappropriate comment about how you can never have too much caulk...). What? Where was I? Oh, yeah. Caulk.

Since this pack-o-gadgets my dad told me about was As Seen On TV!, I decided to see if there was an ad out there on the Interwebs. Tah Dah! https://www.buyprocaulk.com/ . Cheesy, huh? Oh, and all those other videos? Not quite as messy as the guy in the ProCaulk ad.


I got my carefully chosen clear silicone. Clear, so that if I was really horrible at this caulking business, it wouldn't be so obvious.



So, I know you're just dying to know. Did it work? Was it messy? Was Ima now permanantly siliconely bonded to the shower stall?

Seriously, Internet. This.Stuff.Rocks. ProCaulk is the bombdealio. It is easy. It is not messy. No mineral spirits, no blue tape, very little waste of caulk.

I'm going to have to go get the white caulk so I can show off my fancy, new caulk skills.

That's hot.

Unsympathetic

A ramble...


As the voice droned on, my mind drifted and I wondered what in this woman’s childhood had led to the outlook she had on life. Was it just that she’d never been taught to take responsibility for her own actions? Was there real psychological illness? A failure of the synapses in her brain to fire and connect? A chemical imbalance? Or was it simple blame-shifting, the disease of the 80s that had found its way, thanks to Sally Jesse, Phil, Oprah, Jerry and the rest, through to the following decades? “It’s not my fault, I had a tough childhood.” “We were poor, I had to steal.” “I was afraid, I had to lie.” “My mother was immoral.” “I didn’t have a dad.” I didn’t know whether to feel irritated or compassionate. I think it was a combination of both. Should I try to help? Should I just listen? That was hard. She didn’t want to hear it if she was wrong and I had a hard time keeping it to myself when I knew I was right.

“… and that’s why I’m miserable. I have no control over my life…” From experience, I knew she could go on for hours on the topic of herself but didn’t seem aware of the fact that I wasn’t paying complete attention. This was the umpteenth time I’d heard this speech. I must have been nodding my head and making the appropriate murmurs on cue. She wanted someone to tell her what to do, just so long as they were telling her to do what it was she wanted to do. A collaborator in her actions. Someone to blame if it was the wrong thing; someone who would remember that she had made a good decision if it turned out okay.

Home Improvement

I'm in the middle of some major home improvement. In the bathrooms, I had someone in to do the tile but I'm installing new toilets (one down, one to go), faucets, sinks, light fixtures (my brother's going to help with this one*) and giving everything a coat of fresh paint. I'm also painting the living room (started that last night), dining room, kitchen, and rec room.

The house is a disaster.

Yes, I know I should do one project before starting another but I have my excuses. Tile has to set, then be grouted, then dry. So, I skipped around a little bit. Then, when I was prepping walls for paint, the drywall mud had to dry. While it was drying, I'd either start or continue working on another project.

Yesterday, I had two folks come in to give me estimates on flooring for most of the house. I was torn. Should I explain that I'm in the middle of a lot of projects? It's kind of obvious. As they walked in the door, I was tempted to say, "Who could have done this? We have no enemies!" (credit to Phyllis Diller)

*I'm pretty confident about doing most of this stuff by myself. Electricity is a completely different story. It scares me. Many years ago, I lived in an apartment that had no overhead lighting in most of the rooms. I was in the process of moving out and the only things left in the apartment after cleaning up were me, my purse, and a lamp. I had my keys in my hand and went to unplug the lamp. My keys hit the outlet. The details are a little fuzzy but there was a flash of light, a boom, smoke (I think) and I was on my ass halfway across the room.

Wordy + Electricity = Fear

Love is...

Get something to drink and go empty your bladder. This is a long one.

Do you remember those “Love is…” cartoons from so long ago? A woman named Kim Casali came up with the one-frame cartoons in the 1960s and her son now does the strip. Some were cute, others cheesy, most not very realistic.

I have my own feelings about what Love Is and one-line cartoons of naked folk don’t play much of a part in them. Love is too complex for one-liners. Sometimes, love is too complex to write about without help. So, this post will have a lot of quotes. As Somerset Maugham said, “I quote others only in order to better express myself.”

Since I’m stalled, I’m going to start off with a couple of quotes.

“There comes that mysterious meeting in life when someone acknowledges who we are and what we can be, igniting the circuits of our highest potential.” Rusty Berkus

“One is taught by experience to put a premium on those few people who can appreciate you for what you are.” Gail Godwin

MrWurdi not only acknowledges and completely accepts who I am, he encourages me to avoid complacency in that. He encourages me to continue to explore who I am and who I can be. It took a long time before I became confident enough in his love and acceptance to live truthfully and openly and share who I was and who I was becoming. I realized how freeing and beautiful it is to have a person in your life you can share every thought and every feeling. That’s real. That’s love.

Society has programmed us to keep certain feelings locked away, to be polite, to be tactful and diplomatic. We’re taught not to show our weaknesses, our flaws, our anger, our darkness. Sometimes, being truthful and open is difficult. Difficult, painful conversations end up being a result of all that truthful openness. The honesty is worth it, though. It means there isn’t subterfuge or keeping feelings locked away. There’s less resentment – not no resentment because, let’s face it, we’re human. But the honesty, well, the honesty is a type of love. It’s real. If you don’t have honesty in communication, you’re just playing. If there’s something you can’t share about yourself with someone you love, then you’re just playing at love. It’s not real.

“Some people will not tolerate such emotional honesty in communication. They would rather defend their dishonesty on the grounds that it might hurt others. Therefore, having rationalized their phoniness into nobility, they settle for superficial relationships.” Author unknown

So, just what do you do when you find someone who can handle your truth and is willing to share their truth with you? You celebrate it, revel in it, and appreciate every moment of it.

One problem I’ve seen in some of my past relationships and in those of my friends is the loss of self. Is it grand passion for the other person? Lack of esteem in oneself? Fear that if we are different, we will not be loved?

“Love is union with somebody, or something, outside oneself, under the condition of retaining the separateness and integrity of one's own self.” Erich Fromm

My aunt shared some words of wisdom with me recently. She said that no matter how good things are or how bad things are, “It will change.” Boy, howdy, was she right! And it’s not just those things external to us that change – jobs, other people, weather, finances, home – we do. Every single experience or interaction or observation changes something in us. I love what Anaïs Nin said about this.

She said, “Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.”

One of the biggest difficulties in relationships is that when we fall in love with a person, we fall in love with them as they are in that moment and as we are in that moment. People change. They can’t help it. Sometimes, we change in ways that are complimentary to our significant other and their changes. That’s pretty darned cool when it happens.

Sometimes, the changes put distance between us. When that happens, we can end up angry with each other – angry that what was once so perfect isn’t anymore. We’re angry that the beautiful, passionate, amazing, perfect romance has changed into something else. We grieve its loss. We are angry at the person who is responsible for making it go away.

“In real love you want the other person's good. In romantic love you want the other person.” Margaret Anderson

Sometimes, it’s hard remembering that the beautiful truth and openness and honesty that was the foundation of your relationship is still there. The anger and grief cloud the fact that you still have a beautiful, open, truthful connection with that other person.

“Life is a constant metamorphosis from one stage to another. But why do we live so hard against this fact? Why are we afraid? In truth, we never leave anything behind, but carry it inside. Nothing is ever lost, only when we try to hold on. Then all is lost. Our whole soul. But if we let go, then we can take everything with us, because we become strong in our own invisible centers, and the world becomes light.” Jim Ralston

While I don’t typically go into a lot of deeply personal stuff here, I feel the need to make an exception.

MrWurdi and I stopped being a couple almost a year ago. We still love each other but our relationship has changed. There's not any anger, in fact, we've had a very civilized year since we became single people. Not too many exes can share an address with each other. As with all things, this has changed, too. We live, we grow, we change, we move. Some people move several states away. ;-)

I will always love, erm, I guess MrWurdi isn't that appropriate now so I'll let him pick a new alias if he'd like. I want only happiness and abundance and good things for him and I believe he wants the same for me.

“We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other. To meet, to love, to share. It is a precious moment, but it is transient. It is a little parentheses in eternity. If we share with caring, lightheartedness, and love, we will create abundance and joy for each other, and this moment will have been worthwhile.” Deepak Chopra

So, remember when I said love is too complex for one-liners? I may have been wrong.

Love is truth.
Love changes.
Love is worthwhile.

I'm Taking Back My Blog

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it too many times. I've been busy. I've been distracted. I haven't been blogging.

I'm taking back my blog from the spammers.

You know, it's rare that I'd have anything good to say about spammers but at least they inspired me to come back here and clean things up a little bit.

I'm back in school (yikes!), there have been some pretty major life changes, work is as busy as ever.

I'm planning to write about some of this soon. I don't usually share really personal stuff on this thing but I will be, vaguely, explaining why the last year has been short on my rambling wordy crap that I put out here.

Really, Internet, it's not you... it's me. I haven't even seen many of my "real life" friends recently. It's been a month and a half since I've seen Wormy - and she's the best real life friend I have.

I'm completely sucking at this work-life balance. I hope I can fix that.

The RANDOM, Random, random Wheel of FUNK, Funk, funk...

In a previous blog post, I mentioned my truck. Well, actually, I mentioned crawling in the back of it to retrieve my canvas bags and included a drawing. It’s a Chevy Avalanche and it rides like a car. While it will carry five adults very comfortably, I can also fold down the back seats and get an 8’ bed for hauling stuff. It has a DVD player that occupies young children and ex-husbands equally well. It also has a remote start. This means that I can, in the comfort of my home or office, start it and it will be warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Super nice. I could go on and on about all of the fabulous features on this truck but there is one problem with it.

The random wheel of funk.

Many times, when I get in the truck, there’ll be an odd scent. It changes. Sometimes I smell old, gym socks; other times, mildew. Cigarette smoke and burning plastic or rubber are frequent smells. Undefined funky smells are also common.

It doesn’t happen all the time but it happens often enough that when I’m walking toward the truck, I wonder what the random wheel of funk has in store for me that day. I’ve heard about some kind of eco-filter and maybe I should check into that but I haven’t yet.

Earlier this year, I was traveling quite a bit for work and most of that travel was on the Gulf Coast. Let me tell you, working at or near the beach is freakin’ cool. Another huge plus was that I got to drive instead of fly. I don’t mind flying but having my own vehicle rocks. I’m not limited on space for all the various stuff I might need (like my chef’s knife) and I don’t have to deal with car rental places and the like.

While on my way home from one of these trips, I was meandering around a convenience store to stretch my legs and break up the travel a little bit. I saw this:



Too cute. It fit my working-at-the-beach-is-cool mood and it had an EXOTIC scent. I know this because it said so right on the package. I had to have it. I purchased the lovely palm tree air freshener, tucked it into my purse and then I saw something shiny*.

I didn’t think about my awesome new air freshener until I stopped again a few hours later. I was at a gas station/convenience store/restaurant/farmer’s market kind of place. Great stop to stretch my legs and meander a bit. I was about to get out of the truck when I remembered the palm tree air freshener. I quickly unwrapped it, hung it from my rear view mirror (I know), and went into the store. I checked to make sure the plumbing was operating correctly in the restroom, considered whether I should eat there (no), and checked out the store. I was probably in there for a good thirty minutes. It takes a long time to meander properly, you know. There was shiny stuff all over the place!

It was rather warm that day and I’d parked in the sun. Air fresheners get super-activated with warmth and sun. I don’t think I realized that before that day.

Since I’d meandered for quite a while and was still at least five hours from home, I left in a hurry. I jumped into the truck, cranked it and started driving… thinking to myself that the air freshener was damned strong.

Within a minute or so, I was on the Interstate. Within a minute and fifteen seconds, my eyes had started to water and I could taste the air freshener. Seriously. Oh, the taste? The exotic scent?

Pine. Exotic pine. PINE. Like pine trees. Kind of like gin but without the buzz. WTF?

I pulled over, removed the offending, stinky, nasty air freshener ruiner and tossed it in the back of the truck. I was tempted to throw it out on the side of the road but that wouldn’t be green. Plus, I was thinking about you, dear Internet. Blogs with pictures are better, don’t you think?


The new and disastrously unimproved RANDOM WHEEL OF FUNK – Now, with Exotic Pine and a Chemical Aftertaste.



* “Something shiny” happens to me a lot. I don’t know if it’s just because I have too much going on in my life but I’m easily distracted. Short attention span, ADHD, ditzy blonde, whatever.

Veteran's Day

In my profile, I've mentioned that I'm a defense contractor. It's kind of a family business. My dad was a defense contractor, too, for over 25 years. However, before that, he was in the Army. He made a career of both with more than four decades of service to our country.

I grew up appreciating the sacrifices our military personnel make. I saw, first-hand, the dedication of our servicemen and women. The pay is low, the hours long, and the sacrifice for some, ultimate.

Today is Veteran's Day. It's a day for us to remember those who paid that ultimate price and a day to thank those who are still with us.

I frequently get frustrated at work. The red-tape and bullshit combined with the "who cares" attitude of some of my colleagues makes my tasks daunting at times. Recently, though, my dad let me have his old helmet from his Army days. I put it on my bookshelf at work and every single day when I walk into my office, I see it and remember who it is I'm working to support - the American Soldier. That's what makes it worth it, that's what makes my job mean so much to me.

Gene Castagnetti, USMC, (retired), director, National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific is credited by some as saying, "A veteran is someone who, at one point in his life wrote a blank check made payable to 'The United States of America' for an amount of up to and including his life. That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it."

Another tidbit: Colin Powell, while at a large conference in England, was asked by the Archbishop of Canterbury if our plans for Iraq were just an example of ‘empire building' by George Bush. He answered by saying, 'Over the years, the United States has sent many of its fine young men and women into great peril to fight for freedom beyond our borders. The only amount of land we have ever asked for in return is enough to bury those that did not return.’

Thank you, G.I. Joe and G.I. Jane. I appreciate you more than I can ever say.

I rarely talk about family and I never post personal pictures but Dad gave me permission to share a few of his service photos. Thank you, Dad.

















Hua, Hooah, Hoorah, Hooyah, Semper Fi, and Anchors Aweigh!

June? The last time I posted was JUNE?

That's just ridiculous. June? That was almost half a year ago.

Issue One:
I've had some access issues to the blog.

Issue Two:
I have been sofa king busy at work I can't see straight.

Issue Three:
Non-blog-appropriate personal stuff going on in my life.

Issue Four:
Ennui (The link will take you to a dictionary and recording of the pronunciation.)


Risk Mitigation Strategies (Can you tell I have work on my brain? Substitute "Excuse" for "Issue." Then, substitute "Issue Resolution" for "Risk Mitigation Strategies" and we'll be back in the real world and out of defense contracting land... well, at least we'll be on the path there. Issue Resolution is still rather work-like but it's early and I haven't had enough coffee.)

Okay.

Excuse/Issue Resolution One:
I'm wicked smaht and I have gadgets. I can take care of this.

Excuse/Issue Resolution Two:
I'm working on my life/work balance and, while I really love my job, I need to make the time to do the things I like to do (like writing and such).

Excuse/Issue Resolution Three:
I don't wanna talk about it. Maybe later.

Excuse/Issue Resolution Four:
Note - I love that word. I'll snap out of it.


I can't wait to tell you about the Random Wheel of Funk!

Excuses, excuses - update - and good news!

I've been on the road for work far too much lately and I've missed you, dear Internet.

************************
I have an update on Highway Treadmill Guy.

Highway Treadmill Guy is the owner of the health food store. He'd been working so hard with the store that he'd let himself get out of shape. The store wasn't doing that well. Heck, I drove by it every day and didn't even know it was there until I saw him on the side of the highway. He decided to combine exercise and advertising. It worked. I don't usually watch the local news but several tv and radio stations came out and interviewed him. Some folks pulled into the parking lot to ask him what he was doing. Business has really picked up for him, he lost 15 pounds, and now runs nearly every day.

************************
In other news, fans of good beer have achieved a major victory in Alabama. Up until a few weeks ago, The Code of Alabama, in §28-3-1(3), addressing the regulation of alcoholic beverages, restricted ABV to 6%. It stated:

"BEER, or MALT OR BREWED BEVERAGES. Any beer, lager beer, ale, porter, malt or brewed beverage, or similar fermented malt liquor containing one-half of one percent or more of alcohol by volume and not in excess of five percent alcohol by weight and six percent by volume, by whatever name the same may be called."

That meant that while wine could have an ABV of up to 24% and was not regulated to certain bottle/container sizes, many craft and gourmet beers were not legal in Alabama. That sucked.

A lovely organization and movement called Free the Hops got busy. They were (finally) successful. On May 22, 2009, the Gourmet Beer Bill (HB373) was signed into law by Governor Riley!

Alabama beer laws are still somewhat restrictive but this is a HUGE step forward. Free the Hops is still working to, erm, free the hops in Alabama. It's a rather slow process for the distributors to get the now-legal beers into local shops, bars, and restaurants but the good stuff is beginning to trickle in - even in North Alabama. There are still restrictions on container size, home brewers, competitions, etc. so Free The Hops still has a mission and I plan to support that mission as much as possible.

A local brewery, Olde Towne Brewing Company, has released a beer in honor of this auspicious occasion. Emancipation Double IPA is available in a few choice locations.

I realize there are several non-local readers who are probably a little bored by this part of the post but won't you raise a pint in celebration with us? You've had great beer available to you while we've made do.


I'll close this post with some Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy: "Sometimes when I reflect back on all the beer I drink I feel ashamed - Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all of their hopes and dreams. If I didn't drink this beer, they might be out of work and their dreams would be shattered. Then I say to myself, 'It is better that I drink this beer and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver.'"

Cheers!

Boob Update

The preliminary biopsy results show no sign of cancer.

I am so relieved.

National Poetry Month

Can one month contain such fabulousness?

Grilled Cheese Month, National Poetry Month, the Dining with Friends Dinner, AND my birthday? ~whew~ I get exhausted just thinking about all of those fun things.

By the way, there's been an update to the Hamzilla Incident. Be sure to check it out. You never know if you might be able to help.

In addition to all of the fun and excitement of the above mentioned events, I've also had a little bit of my own personal drama to deal with these days. In the past, I've kind of shut down and stopped blogging for a while when life gets difficult. I'm not doing that this time. I, also, don't share too much deeply personal stuff. Mostly, I like to keep it random and, hopefully, interesting and not like a "Dear Diary" kind of blog.

I could procrastinate this all night but I won't. You get a two-fer this evening. Not only have I written a poem to properly acknowledge National Poetry Month, I'm also putting out* a little bit of personal info.


BOOB POEM
I live in Alabama
But I swear I’m not a rube
Yet I find it important
To write a poem to my boob.

Mammograms are quite awkward
The ultrasound showed stuff, too
A week of doctor visits
They decided what to do

My left boob has a problem
The surgeon has made a slit
He went in there to find out
What is wrong with that left tit.

I admit I’m quite nervous
Biopsies just are not fun
The waiting’s even harder
But the waiting must be done

The path lab has the sample
They will do their tissue test
Then Dr. Boob will call me
I will keep you all… abreast.


If you pray, please do. Light candles, do interpretive dance, get your mojo rising, wish on a star, stare at the lint in your navel while pondering the meaning of life and boobies, whatever. Please think positive thoughts. I hope to have results tomorrow.


*Calm down, Jeremy. It's not that kind of putting out.

It's National Grilled Cheese Month! Really!

Just in case you don't have this marked on your calendar, I feel it's my duty to let you know about this fantastic, month-long holiday. Mmmm. Cheese.

For the past couple of years, I've been doing Grilled Cheese Night with any of my family who happen to be in the area. Each year, a favorite or two from the previous year gets to make a comeback. We make several different varieties of grilled cheeses, cut them into quarters (or whatever makes sense based on the size of the bread), then eat and rate. Grilled cheese purists would be outraged at some of the additions to these sandwiches but I consider myself a pancheesual person and I accept all types and kinds of variations on the norm.

Here are the sandwiches from this Sunday:


1. Turkey and baby swiss on sourdough
2. Peanut butter, granny smith apple, and cheddar on wheat
3. Pastrami, swiss, and spicy mustard on pumpernickle
4. Prosciutto, mozzarella, parmesan, and sun-dried tomato pesto on Italian bread
5. Blue cheese, dates, and bacon on pumpernickle
6. Havarti dill on white
7. Gouda and pear on Italian
8. Butterkase on sourdough
9. Avocado, cheddar, cumin, and chipotle chili powder on corn tortilla

~erp~

Number 1 is a favorite in the Wurdibitsch house and is eaten year-round. Number 2 was a favorite from last year that came back for round two. I think the Granny Smith was too tart or I just remembered it being better. Number 3 was well-liked by everyone but made us all think of Reubens and then it was kind of sad. Number 4 was popular with half the folks and just "eh" for the rest. I think it needs a spicier meat (like pepperoni). It just seemed lacking some ooomph. Number 5 was a surprise dark horse. The blue cheese got several raised eyebrows and a couple, "I'll try it but I'm not promising anything." We thought it might be too strong a flavor for the grandgirl who was awake for the event but we were wrong. This was one of most liked sandwiches. Number 6 is like eating a soft, warm, dill pickle. Simple and delicious. Number 7 was surprisingly good, too. The pear was just firm enough to provide a little bite to the bite and the gouda (non-smoked) was perfect with it. Number 8 was boring. Butterkase is excellent by itself or melted or maybe with something else but it got lost in the crowd. Number 9 was also a nice surprise. The chipotle chili powder gave it just a little bit of a kick.

With all of that cheese, a heavy side dish would have been a disaster. I made two salads. The salad on the left is fennel, orange, and arugula with an olive oil, lemon and pepper dressing. The salad on the right is my bok choy, jicama, apple slaw. Since we had orange in the other salad, I substituted pineapple juice (and some pineapple bits) for the orange juice. I was also not that thrilled with some of my bok choy and had some romaine lettuce that needed to be used so I did half bok choy and half romaine. Tasty stuff.


Happy National Grilled Cheese Month!

Since Sunday was also my birthday, we had cheesecake, made by MrWurdi, the masterbaker, for dessert.

Hamzilla

This time of year is when folks in our area start hosting dinners called, "Dining with Friends." These dinners benefit the local AIDS Action Coalition and the Davis Clinic. For a donation, the invitees eat, drink, and make merry - all for a good cause.

My dear friend, Chef~H aka Wormy, has hosted for as long as I can remember. Although I wasn't there this year, I've heard what happened at this year's event. In addition to pig candy and other BBQ'd delights prepared by Pinky, Chef~H prepared a massive ham. Close to thirty pounds, this was an impressive piece of meat.

The ham is missing.

I modified a song from my youth to pay tribute to the missing:


HAMZILLA
With a benefit dinner and some tasty food
The thirty-pound ham roast set a good mood
Start the carving with a sharp knife
A mighty big porker gave his life
The folks started drinking and a few, they got sauced
That massive porker ended up getting lost

Oh no, they say to cook it slow, slow slow Hamzilla
Oh no, where did that big ham go, go go Hamzilla

Oh no, they say cook it slow, slow slow Hamzilla
Oh no, where did that big ham go, go go Hamzilla

History shows again and again
How liquor exposes the folly of man
Hamzilla
History shows again and again
Hamzilla
History shows again and again
How liquor exposes the folly of man
Hamzilla
History shows again and again
Hamzilla

Oh no, they say to cook it slow, slow slow Hamzilla
Oh no, where did that big ham go, go go Hamzilla

This verse goes again and again
The original song won’t ever end
Hamzilla
History shows again and again
Hamzilla
This verse goes again and again
But on this verse, this time, the song will end
Hamzilla
History shows again and again
Hamzilla



If you've seen the missing ham or have information as to its whereabouts, please leave a message in the comments section of this post.




***UPDATE***UPDATE***UPDATE***UPDATE***UPDATE***
A hambone was left in a unmarked cardboard box on Wormy's doorstep the other day. A note was with the bone. The note, unsigned, read, "Thanks for the ham."

What kind of sick porkalogical madman would do such a thing?

Again, if you have any information about this incident, please contact us through the comments section of this post. Remember, only you can stop pork theft.

***UPDATE***UPDATE***UPDATE***UPDATE***UPDATE***

Highway Treadmill Guy

I mentioned Highway Treadmill Guy a while back.

I was driving to work one morning when all of a sudden, I saw this guy on a treadmill right on the side of the road. Now, I live in the freakin' boonies so when I'm driving to work, I'm either way out in the county or I'm on the highway. As it was, I was on the highway portion of my drive. By the time I'm on the highway, traffic is pretty heavy so the first time I saw this dude, it was a quick glance and I wasn't sure I saw what I thought I saw. Still, he was there the next day. And the next. And the next.



Dude. Treadmill on the highway? With all that traffic?

The first couple of times I saw him, I didn't notice any signs or advertisement so I was really confused. It seemed like a rather odd place to exercise.

It was really cold for Alabama on several mornings and this guy was still out there - very bundled up but out there every day. I started trying to figure out his story. I thought maybe he'd lost some kind of New Year's Eve bet. Then, I noticed a banner he had strung up by his highway treadmill.


Aha! He's promoting a health food store!

My logical mind kicked in and I was quite derisive. Dude, health? You're breathing in two county's worth of exhaust fumes every morning. That's fucked up.

But, yet, I was fascinated with this guy. He was dedicated. He was out there every morning. We had some obnoxiously horrible weather. He was out there. After a while, he started jogging - then running - on the treadmill. I found myself talking to him every morning.

"Good morning, Highway Treadmill Guy."

"Dude, you are seriously dedicated, Highway Treadmill Guy."

The weather got better and the layers of clothing lessened.

"Looking good, Highway Treadmill Guy!"

I don't know if he was trying to get healthier or promote the store but he was definitely getting my attention.

A week ago, he had a new sign posted: Last Week

Dude. That sucks.

I'm going to miss him but whatever he was doing, it worked. I'm going to the health food store tomorrow. I'm going to find out what the dealio is.

I'll be sure to let you know.

The Best Nest

One of my favorite books when I was a child was The Best Nest by P.D. Eastman. What Mr. Bird says all throughout the book is:

"I love my house.
I love my nest.
In all the world,
my nest is best!"

I get that.

This past Saturday, I got new houseguests. I like these houseguests MUCH better than my previous ones.

Introducing the Dove family:


I thought it was kind of cool how they showed up the day before Easter.

Tap, tap, tap... Is this thing on?

I have had so much bloggity-blog-blog stuff to share with you, dear Internet. Alas, I have been paralyzed by my last post. Every single time I had something to write about, I'd remember that I hadn't followed up on Electile Dysfunction. Then, the thought of writing about politics would make my head hurt.

So, you haven't read about Highway Treadmill Guy or the ancient iron or what's cooking in Ima's kitchen or my Flat Stanley project and the follow-on to that, Flat Stanley After Dark. I haven't written about continuing Publix Embarrassment or my searches for great service. No haikus (Haiked Up, Clafoutis, Redneck, Wine) or limericks or funny cartoons have made their way to the Not-So-Wordy-After-All-Bitch blog.

So, rather than write a long essay about each of my voting issues, I'll keep it short and get this over with so I can blog about trivial stuff again. Someday, maybe when I have a little more emotional energy, I'll expound but no promises (threats).

In my last post, I listed my voting issues as follows:

1. Pro-Defense
2. Pro-Gun Rights
3. Pro-Life
4. Pro-Gay Marriage

That's the wrong order, for one thing. Let me try again.

1. Pro-Life

The rest pretty much all tie for importance but I'm just not going to vote for someone who is not pro-life.

Now, I know terminology can get people all stirred up and I could devote this whole post to that topic (but I'm not). I'm pro-life. I call it pro-life. I don't use the term anti-life for people who are pro-choice. Please don't call me anti-choice. I'll use your preferred term for you and you use mine for me, okay? I'm not anti-choice. It might surprise you to know that I'm pro-choice in my own way.

I do not for a minute think that any person or agency or government should tell any sane adult what they can or can not do with their own body. After that is where my path and the pro-choicers paths separate. The way I see it, once a person is pregnant, it's not just their body we're discussing. It comes down to the question of when life begins. There are so many differing opinions on this. Whether it's at conception or when there are brain waves or at birth or first breath has been and will continue to be debated. Brain waves (one of the criteria for keeping an adult on life support) have been measured at six weeks after conception. For me, that's life - an innocent life. Technology may eventually show us that there's "life" earlier than that.

I believe a person should be able to do what they want to do with their own body but that involves being responsible about that body. We all do risky things, knowing the risks and taking precautions, but knowing the potential consequences. Don't want any more kids? You can take all of the precautions: condoms, birth control pills, vasectomy for your partner, tubal ligations, etc. but there's still the risk of pregnancy. The only sure ways are to either not have sex or not have a uterus (yay, hysterectomies!)

There are arguments for legal abortion that are worth civilized discussion (life of the mother being one) but the current laws allowing abortion for any reason means that many innocent lives are ended because they were inconvenient or would create a hardship or just because the mother wasn't being responsible about her body. I've seen it and I've heard it. I volunteered for a crisis pregnancy hotline many years ago and met women who used abortion as birth control. I understand how difficult it can be to be a pregnant teenager who isn't going to be able to take the scholarship - that was me.

Contentious topic, I know, but it's one about which I feel very strongly and, as the tagline says, "This is how I see it." That said, I'd be glad to have a rational, reasonable, polite conversation about this or any topic.

Since I promised I wasn't going to do a lengthy essay on each of my voting issues, I'll keep the other three really short for today.

~Pro-Gun Rights: I'm a law-abiding citizen. Taking my gun rights because others have abused theirs is not acceptable.

~Pro-Defense: We can not afford to be complacent.

~Pro-Gay Marriage: I am sure I'll do a long post on this at some point... Love is a good thing, baby. Marriage isn't just a religious thing - it's a legal thing. The laws are written using the word "marriage" to show a legal joining that allows for certain legal rights - legal rights that should not be infringed upon because of who or how you love.

Peace and Love and Congrats to Vermont this week for seeing the light!