PARTING IS SUCH SWEET SORROW

I look back at the past year and see that in March I had quite a few posts. Oh yes, that is when I purchased the Nikon D-50, had another birthday, St. Patricks Day and the Saw Doctors. Lot's of stuff going on.

And I look back at the three + years of posts I have accumulated here. I am so proud of some of them. Immediately I think of my Addicted to Love series. Followed closely by the Six Days In Cancun...which should have been Eight Days in Mexico, but once I had started it was hard to stop....

And all the people I have come into contact with here. Far too many to list....

Trish, my first commenter.

Lisa, my first blogger bud.

Jae, the keeper of  (my) secret(s)......?????

Gary, who offered  such invaluable encouragement.

For awhile now I have realized it is time to move on. AOL-J-Land and I are traveling in different directions. Have been for some time now.

What a long strange trip it's been.

 

p.s.....e-mail me if you want my new (actually rather old) "address"

THE GREAT ESCAPE

Today was one of those days where absolutely nothing went right. Problem after problem arose and demanded immediate attention. Everything that was out of whack was not my fault, yet it is my job to make it right. I try so hard to make everything run smoothly but I can only do so much. It is like a tag team. If the chain is weak somewhere, my customers only know that I have failed them.

I hate that.

It makes me want to fly away like a bird. To escape it all. To disappear.

To run away.

I'm not very good at running away. I first experimented with it in fifth grade. My best friend B.A. and I were going through a stage where we were walking downtown after school. She had to stay after school and wait for her Mom to pick her up after work. There was no day care back then, you know,  when dinosaurs roamed the earth. Just us hanging out with the nuns helping to cleaning chalk boards.  We eventually graduated to shop lifting and became very brazen about it. Our M.O. was to sashshay into the Five and Dime, grab one of their bags from under the counter,  walk through the store and snatch, of all dull things, school supplies, tossing them into the bag!

When we finally got caught we decided it was better to run away than face our parents.

We began walking out of town down a country road. We must have walked for what seemed like miles when a car pulled over and rolled down their window and addressed us, "Have you seen B.A.? We are looking all over for her!"

Hell, no one looking for me. No one knew I had run away!

I don't remember much more of that episode. Except I got a good whooping.

Now I just head to the nearest library and submerge myself into one of my Great Escapes. I dream about getting another job and  surf the internet and catch up on my Dream Job. Usually it is to join a charity organization such as CARE or UNITED WAY or THE CANCER SOCIETY. When I recover from my delusions of trying to save the world, I progress to wanting to see the world and envision myself as a Travel Writer.

Then my lunch break is over and back to the grind of making excuses and feeling helpless.

At least no one is going to whoop me.

TOP TEN REASONS I LOVE KEY WEST

NUMBER EIGHT - CAPTAIN TONY'S

After shopping on Duval Street we headed into Capt. Tony's for a beer and some local ambiance. Capt. Tony's is the original site of Sloppy Joe's, another key West historical bar where Hemingway hung out and drank.

Business cards, along with brassieres, panties, ball caps, license plates, and other  varied articles of clothing, adorn every bit of space along the walls and ceiling. You can see where the cards have met disaster, Hurricane Wilma of last fall, yet they remain intact, if not a little worse for wear.

As in every bar in Key West, there was entertainment. A performer with an acoustical guitar and his dog laying at his feet, he had a repertoire of songs that included everyone from Bob Dylan to Elvis.

A walking tour group arrived to hear the history of the building. Not only was it the watering hole of Ernest, it was at one time a morgue! As the group took over the back of the room and our muscian friend sang Elvis' "Falling in love with you" a sudden thunder storm decided to pay Key West a visit.

Suddenly every light in the bar turned themselves on and shined brightly for a fleeting and astonishing moment....then all went dark. The microphone went dead....his strong yet gentle rendition of the love song faded as the electricity failed...

As a river flows
Gently to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand - Take my whole life too".......

As if cued, everyone in the bar began to sing.........

"For I can't help falling in love with you.
For I can't help falling in love with you"

We gave ourselves and our musician friend a round of applause. I think the drinks were on the house as we waited for the storm to pass and the sound of rain beating the streets and the roof to fade and resume the hum of fans and airconditioners.

It was a beautiful and peaceful few moments.

TOP TEN REASONS I LOVE KEY WEST

NUMBER NINE - THE SHOPPING

I have enough Kino sandals to last till the next time. Kino Sandals is the most unpretentious, comfy and functional shoe factory in the world. Hand Made and $10!

The wine is almost gone. Why is the wine so goooood in Key West?  I loved the Strawberry Riesling Wine. Courtesy of Keel and Curley Winery.

Joe and I hiked all the way from the Atlantic to the Gulf of Mexico. On our journey we passed this cozy little Art Gallery. I had my heart set on purchasing some of art to take home. And I got lucky. This was a coop-gallery. Affordable and capricious. And red.

Very red.

KEY WEST - TOP TEN REASONS WHY I LOVE IT

REASON NUMBER ONE - ROOSTERS RULE

Key West has got to be one of the most beautiful, stimulating, colorful, soul-stirring, exhilarating, fanciful, outrageous, whimsical, boisterous, frolicking and funky towns in the United States.

Look what it did to Hemingway.

Look what it does to all those tourists and visitors who make the journey! After one visit it becomes part of you, one of your most treasured memories. Like a vivid tattoo on your soul.

That is, if you get it.

If you do "get it" then returning becomes a pilgrimage.

It is a place that is best described with photo's. I'll leave the word descriptions to more qualified writers. And the Poets.

Roosters, roosters everywhere you look. At first I heard them. Cock-a-doodle-do. Why do they roam free? Going everywhere and any place they want? Into bars, into restaurants, into the traffic, strutting down Duval St?

Who knows, but they seem to own the town. There is even a  place that is like a haven for the sick and infirm, the unwanted fowl. You can even purchase one if you want.

Though they seem to have no master....if you ask me

SLEEPS WITH THE FISHIES

Leaving Paradise

I became slightly depressed knowing that the holiday was about to end. The familiar yet mundane life I left behind called me home. The creeping acceptance of the inevitable. The bittersweet. The realization that I actually did leave all my cares behind. For seven blissful days not once did I think about work nor my daughters situation! And on the evening of the last day aboard ship, I sat on the deck on the 11th floor,  the weight of what I left behind settled on my shoulder and watched the sunset in the stormy sky leaning on me.

On a ship, you are never alone for long. Behind me I heard the shrill and bossy voice of an eight year old girl. That tone is known to mothers all over the world. This bossy woman-child sashayed to the rail and looked towards the setting sun. She turned and ignoring me, concentrated her remark behind me, "No! No! You stay right there!"

Around the corner of the laid out sun chairs, with a the canister of soda pressed to her tiny breast, came the two year old. She wore a simple pink empire line dress with a ruffle on the hem and around the sleeveless arm holes. Her hair was so short, and so wispy, the fairy hair of the very young. On the island , she must have had beads braided along the top. On her tiny feet were girly-girl pink sandals.

She stumbled and staggered in that run/walk normally associated with drunks and two year olds.

She stood along side her sister and got tippy toed.

She pointed!

"I see a dolphin", she cried out.

Her older and much more sophisticated sister rolled her eyes and informed her..."You can't see a dolphin! It's too dark"

Her mother appeared from the right and in a soft murmur told her youngest daughter that the dolphins were sleeping.

Little Pink handed her mom the soda container. Turning towards the sea and grabbing the rail she puffed out her chest and began calling loudly, at the top of her lungs.......

"DOLPHINS!! DOLPHINS WAKE UP!!"

It was my very favorite moment of the trip.

Sadness took a dive. He sleeps with the dolphins.

I HEAR THAT LONESOME WHISTLE BLOW

A Foggy Morning

I awoke yesterday morning to the most dense fog I have ever seen. It engulfed everything and did not lift until well after 11am!

It beckoned me to walk along the River Green Trail with my camera. And what wonderful pictures awaited me.

Jeweled Dew Dripping Spider Webs.

Spooky Abandoned Train Station

The Endless Trail in the beginning of her Fall glory

The the sun was able to climb over the all encompassing wet gray mist and all was right with the world again.

You can't always get what you want

The Stones are playing Churchill Downs in Louisville on September 29th.

Now I have seen the Stones plenty of times over the years. The last time being 1989. 17 years ago! It was outdoors, at the UofL football stadium...maybe.

I remember that it took a long time to realize what songs they were playing.

Unlike their SOME GIRLS tour, which was fabulous.

It is unfair to think that something has happened to the Stones.

Something has happened to me.

Steel Wheels was the last Stones album I purchased, if you don't count the SOME GIRLS album with the original cover  I  found (at the flea market, natch) and gave to my Brother-in-Law. Somewhere I read they printed only 100,000 of this particular cover before they were forced to stop because of the copywrite infringement laws.

I knew he would love it. Appreciate it.

(Why do I remember a different album cover for Beggars Banquet than I see now? Am I loosing it in my old age?)

In a moment of pure delusion, I checked out the prices for the show in Louisville.

Oh My God.

For a mere $150 I can get a ticket...but I'm not promised a view. How bizarre!!

For $2500 I can have it all. And Alice Cooper.

Naturally I went on a quick hunt for my 1981 ticket. Left hand stage. I could have spit and hit the stage.

Inflation is outrageous.

TELL IT TO THE JUDGE

When I headed downtown for my day in court, to plead my case as to why I was not guilty of running a red light,...I cut the time a little too close, very close and it was made even more hair raising when I realized I did not know where to go.

I virtually ran to the court house. Upon arrival I joined a large mass of people. All looking solemn, very concerned, and quite angry. My type of people.  I got at the back of a line, every one was so quiet and giving off incredible strained vibes, I couldn't help myself and blurted out, "Is this the line for traffic court?"  Those around me nodded yes and I held out my ticket, "Anyone get pulled over for that trap at Coldwater & Coliseum?". They erupted like a volcano!  Everyone had a story. A truck driver with a heavy load of recyclable, a lady with a grand baby in the back seat, crazy drivers who cut in too close, rear ending horrors. Non-sympathetic and heartless cops. Anger and frustration ruled this crowd.

Good! I'm glad I was not the only one offended that I was called a law breaker. Such  a lie!  I was pushed through that intersection! If I had braked, like everyone around me, I would have been rear ended.

The court room was a zoo. Albeit , a well behaved and respectful, very quiet zoo. The Zoo Keeper was a Super-sized bailiff. He was terrific. In a before life he must have been a traffic cop. The hand language was exquisite pantomime. The exaggerated wrist flick  meant "Get away from the door". The "bring it to me" finger fluttering could only mean, "Get your butts to the front". The explicit finger pointing interpreted as, "Stand behind the rail!"

And the sweet gentle gesture of bringing one finger to his lips silenced us all. One look into the crowd would catch the eye of the offender and stop him dead with the of most menacing of glares. He could pick anyone out of the mass, catch their attention and control them with one glance. Every man who entered the back door with a hat on his head was immediately aware of the death ray glare thrown his way across the room. Hats were immediately swept off the head.

He was poetry in motion.

What is up with traffic court? Why did we have public intoxication convicts wearing those orange suits usually associated with the University of Tennessee? I'm here to tell you, one of those guys was HOT. Long wavy hair, a left over from the hippie days, Woodstock. Or maybe a biker. He was beautiful.

We also had in our presence the man who streaked the Bob Dylan concert. Which was held at the minor league ball park last night. I made up the streaking part. I was not there but I would like to think that people still streak to get attention...and to get arrested.

Cocaine possession with intent, persistent felons who did not appear in court and where finally apprehended and forced to appear, women inmates along with the men, not certain what they did, but was told where some of them worked, (strip club!) The judge and the prosecuting attorney had the annoying habit of referring to everything as case number XXXXXXXXXXX053 with a CDS secret code attached and house detention. Juicy stuff that we were only given a teaser.

Everything moved swiftly, if losing three hours of your life is swift. People came and went, entered and stood, found seats of those who were called, babies were banished, interpreters were found for those who did not speak English, husbands stood at the podium for their wives who were out in the lobby with the baby and could not speak the language anyway, only Arabic. Some only Spanish. And then there was the guy who told the judge that he slurred. "Maybe a stint with the CDS would help that slur" the judge told him. The inmates went first. Lawyers and clients went next. Unfinished business was resolved. Some remanded.

Then it was my turn.

Anticlimactical.

When I was asked what I wanted to state, well I stated...."I protest..."

Court Date (jury trial!!!!!????) (only a fool defends a fool????) this February.

Oh wow. Five months to draw diagram's, plan a defense, and .........

Search the internet to find out if that guy really did streak the concert last night.

LETTING GO

It has been long enough for the shock to have worn off. Not completely, but enough so I am not overcome with hopelessness and anger. I suppose letting go is a variation of realizing you have no power over someone. And actually, you really do not want that type of power after they reach the age of 18.

Then they are on their own. Even if this means you stand on the sidelines and are only allowed to cheerlead, pick up broken pieces, lend money, provide a safe house when needed, and a car, feeling as if you are going to have a heart attack or a seizure from frustration.

She did it right after I bought the wedding dress.

It could have been worse, she could have refused to enter the church. The scene could have been straight out of The Graduate...(hmmmmm maybe not).

Anyway, she decided he was not the one and some other guy she met interested her. I am still flabbergasted. So is S.

It has taken me quite awhile to accept it.

That one day in the dress shop is all I am going to get for the time being. That was a great day, and I will cherish that for a long time.

I have been so upset about everything that I have not seen her since that day in June! Fathers Day. We took her Dad out for dinner, there was a violent thunder storm and the computers got knocked out and I could not pay with a credit card so he paid the bill. More memories from that great day.

I will see her this Sunday. I do not want to meet the new boyfriend. I was very attached to S. (four years for God's sake) and he was part of the family. But there is no way around it, I think.

Life is a Bitch sometimes, isn't it?

MAGIC CARPET RIDE

Finding myself in the rare circumstance of having no one waiting for me and no particular place I needed to be, I was humming down I-64 with the window's open and the music loud when the next exit sign came into view, "Simpsonville".

Ah, Simpsonville. I do not know you well, but I do know that directly after the off ramp is the most funky and downtrodden of dark, dank, smelly, cornucopia of surprises lies the most magnificent Flea Market in the area! So full of people that it reaches the point of busting which necessitates a  spilling of the overflow into the bright sunny outdoors.

So, I exited and entered.

I went directly to his booth, as I always do when I arrive.

I use to head to the bread maker who had the most heavenly smelling cranberry bread in a mound....no longer, no longer there. A great loss.

So now I head right to back of the building, noting as I walk with purpose past the enticing booths of cowboy hats and boots, past Mexican rugs, (a young girl, not more than 14 or 15 on the cusp of developing into a woman, lounging against the mountain of carefully folded Mexican blankets, dressed in purple, one plump leg crossed carelessly and effortlessly over the other, feet clad in black well worn flats....how I wished for my camera....as her father shouted at her, "MARIA!!" she jumped to attention), discounted and most possibly out of date food and health products, past the pictures of velvet framed, the candles, the tapes and cd's, the knives and cigarette lighters, jewlery and shoes. I worked my way through the aisles thick with the  Mexican  emigrants, arrived in Kentucky to find a better life cutting the tobacco and working in the hundreds of Mexican kitchens that seem to be everywhere anymore, on the horse farms, cleaning the hotel rooms, and working all the hot and sweaty construction jobs they can find and snap up, doing all the labor intensive farm jobs that no one else wants to do because it is too hard, they mill about the Flea Market speaking to each other in their romantic language and eying you out of the corner of their eyes, seen below the lowered brims of their large cowboy hats.

The air thick with the aroma of grease. It smells like the vast amounts of fried chicken which is being gobbled up as quickly as the it can be drained from the hot oil baskets.

I round the corner of Building D and there it is. As always and I dread the day it is not there and waiting for me. The Record Booth. The last of the great record collectors who sets up every week-end with his weekly catch of magic.

He stand over the crates that house his immense collection with a cigarette bobbing out of the corner of his mouth. His sandy dirty blonde hair looking as if the gray does not have the heart of take possession, laying in an untidy flop of bangs brushing across the top of his thick black horn rim glasses. His face is thin and lined. The beginnings of a melt down into that place that separates middle age from old age.

He looks up as I enter the "restricted" area behind the initial tables honoring the beloved albums. I am heading towards the "good" stuff on a special rack in the back. The $10 stuff. I pick up "Layla" and smile. I put it back. I pick up "Exile on Main Street" and open the album and slip out the record to check for damage.

"Their best ever album" I murmur, maybe to him.

"I have a better copy at the store."

"The store?" I thought this was his store.

"In Louisville. On Bardstown and Bonnycastle".

I struggle to see it. I see Leatherhead, I see the old Rexall Drug store, which I know is long gone now. My mind walks up to the Doo-Wop Shop. I blurt out, like a fool, "Ear-X-Tasy"

"That's on the next block, mines called "Better Days." He flicked the ashes from the cigarette. "Been in the business for 30 years."

I ask him, knowing 30 years is legend, "Remember the shop on the corner, they would paint different artists on the building wall. One year it was Hendrix."

"Phoenix Records." He answers.

"Yes" I could close my eyes and go straight back as if on a magic carpet to that time, that era of the 12 inch disc.

"My collection was stolen years ago in the late 70's. I sold what little I had left at a yard sale. Now I am determined to collect them all back."

In my hand I held Cat Stevens and Crosby, Stills and Nash.

He smiled knowingly as he took my $10.

"Good Luck"

DANCING UNDER THE DIAMOND SKY

With one hand waving free...

(Because the other was clutching a beer can)

Due to unavoidable  life issues interfering with well laid out plans, it  appeared that I would be attending the Dublin Irish Festival (DIF) all by my  lonesome this year.  Not that I gave it much thought, I knew I would just do it and enjoy it even though I would just be with Me.

Imagine my delight Saturday morning when my husband came roaring into the hotel parking lot, straddling his Honda and looking exactly like the Hero come to save the day. Only then did I realize I was inwardly holding my breath and longing for a companion.

He looked pretty hot too on that motorcycle.

Brilliant. That was the word. Brilliant performers, brilliant new Celtic Rock Stage and area, brilliant sky, brilliant white heat, brilliant crowd, brilliant time. Just brilliant!!

The crowds seemed larger than before, perhaps because we were now cut off from the main pedestrian area and had our Celtic Rock world on the West Side of the Festival. Brilliant move!!

Other than that, everything else was the same. Lots of festival food Celtic style. The melt in your mouth Fish and Chips from the Old Bag of Nails. The same icy cold cans of Killian beer drawn from gigantic chests of ice. Sneaky Pete had a new location directly on the path to the Rock Tent. The Irish Canines also had new digs, under the cover of a canopy of trees. The Capital City Pipe and Drums still made my eyes tear up and bring a lump to my throat. The Irish thunder stage was still a hell like pit that could toast you to a crisp. The baby buggies and strollers seemed to be everywhere. As did Red hair. Tattoos were shown off by many, the real kind and the henna kind. Young girls still strolled around with their hair twisted up in those torturous looking rollers awaiting their big moment to dance the Irish jig. It was still very risky to enter the port-a-john trailers after a certain time...The buses rolled from 8am till 130 am Saturday carrying back to their vehicles the intoxicated revelers and their dedicated drivers. We still sang on the five minute trip. This year it was Hang On Sloopy. We continued to wander around the parking lots, walking in the wrong direction to the hotel. I awoke with a headache on Sunday morning...again.

The Saw Doctors blew everyone away as was expected. Only this year they played before their largestOhio crowd ever! This was Joes first time seeing them on stage. I believe he came away impressed.

A year came and went so quickly. Now I look forward to next year, the 20th anniversary of the DIF!

FINALLY - THE HAIR ENTRY!!!

Most recently submitted for a Sunday Scribbling entry on Hair.

 

The Ultimate Segue

I'm certain most of you all know that J-land is nearing the 3rd year anniversary this month. Go check it out here! Our beloved Vivian has returned to head up the celebration (not an award competition, but a Birthday Bash!!)

This got me to think back on when I first began to write Alphawoman's Blog in September of 2003. My first reader was Trish from Journey to Peace. The first time I got "pimped" was in her journal. Then the readers and comments began.

I was addicted.

Then I received THE E-MAIL. From HIM. I thought I was so special to receive an email from HIM. It was wonderful. He told me what a refreshing writer I was. So different from rest of the no-brain dribble that prevailed AOL-J land. He told me that he was so tired of reading entries about HAIR!!

From that moment on I wanted, I was dying to do a hair entry. But I could not. He might read it and then I would join the ..... well, you all know.

I know you know, because in time I realized I was not the only one to receive such an e-mail. He must have been legendary with his B.S.

So, my hair entry went untold until now.

And you know what I have discovered? A picture is worth a thousand words. Nothing, no matter how I could try to string the words together, nothing gets my point across as this menagerie of my unrelenting quest to look .....hell, I guess sexy.

Baby hair, 4th grade hair, High school hair, Hippie Hair, Shaggy Hair, 80's hair, Oh My God That's Short As A Little Boy Hair, and pass that Red Wig Hair...

What was I thinking? I don't know, but this feels so gooooooooood!

 

Someone's boring me. I think it's me.

 

Repetitious Rubbish

As this blog nears the Three Year Mark I'm experiencing a type of cycle emerging. Next week end I am going to The Dublin (Ohio) Irish Festival. I have written about that twice.  I am seeing the Saw Doctors who will be performing there (this will make the 5th time I have seen them and the 3rd time this year!!) God knows I have written about that before! In August I will be attending the annual MidSummer Night Run. Been there, done that. The week after will be the Woodland Arts Festival. My pocketbook can attest to that repeat performance!

In the famous words of Dylan Thomas, "Someone's boring me. I think it's me".

For example: My week-end. Nothing out of the ordinary. A typical two days of predictable occurrences and behavior.

I went to the Southside Farmers Market early Saturday morning and bought delicious vegetables and these beautiful gladiolus. I was there early enough to snag some! They normally have disappeared by the time I arrive.

I have been hitting the New Haven Nature Trail, dodging the beastly bicycles and have pushed myself to just about 2 1/2 mile run. I am walk/running close to 5 1/2 miles. Sweaty stuff.

I have fallen off the Healthy Food Wagon earlier this week. My boss made me by taking me to a Mexican restaurant where those chips and salsa were calling my name so LOUD that it was all I could do not to devour them entirely while he watched me astonished at my ravenous behavior. After that it was a blizzard. After that it was a sub sandwich.

Living the Healthy life is not all it is cracked up to be...so I tell myself. So I have hit the trails again.

I have been working in the garden trying to keep it alive. When we first moved up here, last spring, so many people told us we were going to enjoy the mild summers. What mild summers? They have been torturous!! 90 degrees or more is not unusual! My poor flower beds are burnt up!

After an hour of weeding and snipping I drank a beer and passed out for two hours.

I then went to the local nursery and partook in their "wagon sale" where you fill up an entire wagon with whatever you can fit into it ....all for $20!! Last year it was $15 and they allowed you to double deck...not this year and the lady had her eye on me. I guess I have the look of someone who would cheat in a heartbeat!

I came home with tons of stuff to replace the dead stuff.

Today will be more of the same. Cooking, cleaning, boring, boring, boring.

But then again...next week-end!! The Irish Festival and The Saw Doc's!! I'm counting the hours!!!!

HAY!!

OH NO BIMBO'S IN PINK AND I'M FEELING BLUE

For almost thirty years my parents have lived in the last house on a lovely dead-end street. It is a very mature 1970 era area with beautiful brick homes. Most everyone on the street has been there since the early days of the neighborhood and only leave their homes in the back of a hearse.

At least that is the way it use to be. Next to my parents home is an empty lot. Not exactly empty, it was owned by a gentleman on the next block, and backed up to his property. He has a garage, very nice brick building, that sat at the very back of the property.

He passed away in the past year and his heirs put the property up for sale. Naturally they wanted a pretty penny for the lot as we inquired because...well, we were just use to having all that open space for soccer games, football, volley ball etc. It would have been nice to keep it, but it was not to be.

No...Bimbo bought it.

I have never blogged about Bimbo before. In a nut shell, he has been my mechanic for years back when I did not have a company car and had need for a mechanic.

I love the name Bimbo. I love saying it. Just like I love saying Pink. I just can't think of a combination to put Bimbo and pink together unless it was, "I asked Bimbo if he could paint my car pink..."

When my mother told me that a Bimbo ****** had bought the property, I was thrilled for them! Why? Bimbo is a terrific guy, let alone a superb mechanic. He will be very good to my parents, who are elderly and need a lot of looking after these days.

"Do you think Bimbo is a family name?", my Mother asked

For some reason the neighbors across the street have taken an intense dislike to Bimbo. Maybe its because he is building a beautiful new home, very much in the tradition of all the other homes on the street, right down to a similar color of brick. Maybe because they have noticed he is hooked up to my Mom's water line?.....and paying her water bill.

I think that is what triggered the apparent attack of yesterday.

The Angel caregiver for my Dad informed me of a terrific uproar on the property next door yesterday. The guy across the street had his finger in Bimbo's face....Naturally The Angel had to get in the back yard to see if she could over hear the details.

Lots of cuss words and threats from the neighbor. "My nephew is chief of Police and I will have you arrested."

For using my Mother's water? For cutting down the diseased trees that bordered both properties?

For agreeing to keep on eye on Mom and Pop and knock on their door if The Angel is not there between 8-830am and call 911 if the door is not answered?

Bimbo came over and was hotter than hell.

"I'll call the police on that So & So  if he ever gets in my face like that again! By the way, does your visitor (my SIL Laura) need any help painting the trim?"

Drama on the Dead End.

Wonder if Bimbo would paint the trim Pink?

MERMAID CONVERSATION

It seems that I have been in a certain place at a certain time,  the opportune time, to overhear some juicy stuff from total and perfect strangers.

At my favorite consignment shop, (which I made a bee-line for the moment I landed in Lexington), in the changing area, which is actually four stalls in the middle of the store, protected from prying eyes by cloth curtains....

All was quiet and solemn, as it must be when trying on sizes too small for you, two girls burst into the dressing area.

Giggling, talking like they had not a care in the world about who might over hear them.

First part of the conversation:  "He can't tell me who to be friends with and he can't block me from messaging him because he is mad and does not agree with the friendship!! And I told him so after work....in the parking lot on the way to our cars"

Delicious stuff.

Suddenly the other one screamed in amusement, "I look like a Mermaid"

The other countered, "I look like a Mermaid too!!"

They ventured out of their dressing rooms to admire each other. This was followed by more giggling and more exclamations of how beautiful they looked when a third party entered the conversation.

"You two girls look like  you have somewhere important to go."

"Oh no", one of them replied, "We just like to come in and put on the dresses!"

With that they exited the dressing area in pursuit of more.....I can only guess.... Mermaid dresses.

They returned and resumed their exuberant chattering.

"Quick, let me look at you."

"Wait a minute, this has sooooooooooooo  many buttons!....Oh, Oh, I  look so corporate!"

"You look special!"

"I feel special!!"

What I was feeling was the over flow of their fun. I felt special too.

I only wish that when I was their age that I would have had the brilliant idea to go play dress up at the consignment store with one of my best friends.

Big Girl Dress Up.....how much fun is that!?

TRUCKIN'.......

........GOT MY CHIPS CASHED IN

(Picture for Gayle....Hi Gayle!!)

Going to hit the road in a few minutes. I have one stop to make, at the Southside Farmers Market to pick up some of that wonderful bread made by that articulate writer, and this totally terrific hand cream made at home called " Country Honey". Besides smelling divine, it is the best stuff I have ever smeared on.

I'm headed home to Kentucky for the monthly gathering of my clan. My mother has several out of town guests staying with her. Including my brother from NYC and my Aunt from Florida. It will be a wonderful dinner tomorrow. My Mother is always so animated and happy when she is surrounded by her family. It is a joyous occasion.

I am struggling (again) with the boundaries I must set while writing this blog. I think it is imperative that I protect and respect the privacy of not only my family and friends, but the people I come in contact with on a daily basis.

My life feels like I am in the middle of the spider web and all my experiences and the people who are part of them, instigate them, inspire them, are the webbing that reaches out far into the universe. No telling how far out they reach...can reach.

Yet, this is my history. I think all these personal blogs are our written history. Maybe polished a bit, certainly embellished a little, but they are ours and only ours. They would be less engaging and charming unless they include all those characters who come in and out of our lives on a daily basis. And also, those who are here to stay.

Those who are here to stay, like the Husband, who I promised never to make him look bad in any way on these pages. Some of the funniest, most gut splitting antics are not included here, not because they would make him look bad, but because I think it would upset him. He tends to think this lowly blog is read by millions...hahahah!!!

This is my history and it should include the downs with the ups.

Even if I change the names to protect the guilty.

So, I am going to mull things over during this trip down South to home. I am having the most vivid, sad dreams about certain things that are going on in my life at this moment, this place in time in a very difficult struggle  with my daughter.

On well, what is life if it isn't interesting?

TANGLED UP IN YOUTH

Recently my Boss entered the small cramped office room my co-worlers and I share. "Anyone heard of a Big Name Band having a concert at the Wizards Stadium?"

We turned and showed each other our quizzical expressions, shrugged and returned our attention towards him.

"Some old guy" he continued, "Like my age."

"Jimmy Buffett" Smart Aleck #1 asked.

"No...but someone like that". He then proceeded to quote us the figure they wanted for our Corporate Suite that night. The price for 20 people to attend.

"Wow" said Smart Aleck #2. He immediately got on the phone and called the Stadium the moment Boss left the room. He got the name of the Top Secret not yet released name of the Big Band!

"Thanks" he concluded, turned toward us and waited for just enough time to gain an air of drama.......

"Bob Dylan."

Pause.

"Who's he?" Smart Aleck #1 asks.

Co-worker #3, The Hunk leans back in his chair and twirls his pen between his fingers, "I never liked him much." Looking at me he says, "You tell them."

I begin.

"Blowing in the Wind".  Blank faces from the Smart Alecks.

"Rainy Day Woman".  Still blank.

"Like a Rolling Stone". Now head shaking.

"Mr. Tambourine Man" More head shaking.

"Subterranean Homesick Blues" They both look incredulous. I begin to Rap the words (like Dylan did all those years ago)......

"Johnnys in the basement
Mixing up the medicine
I'm on the pavement
Thinking about the government"

Now they look like they are going to start laughing.

I suddenly had the image of my Mother rapping Guy Lombardo trying to convince me 30 years ago there was no better music than THAT.

I gaze across the abyss of the generation gap and suddenly it hits me!

"Guns and Roses?" Finally they nod. "They covered his "Knocking on Heavens Door".

"OOOOOOOOKKKKKAAAAAAAAYYYYYYY" Smart Aleck#1 says in his Napoleon Dynamite imitation and they resume their tasks at hand, ignoring me and the Hunk.

"Gun's and Roses is over the Hill for them" he informed me. Then he resumed working.

I sit stunned.

BEAUTIFUL BOUNTY

What $8.50 will get you at the Farmers Market

My heart softens about this city when I find someplace as wonderful as Southside Market. It took me awhile to locate the spot, as it is in a part of town I am totally unfamiliar with. I even thought I was in the wrong place and had somehow gotten the address incorrect. This was a neighborhood!

Then there it was. People were coming out carrying large hanging baskets full of summer flowers. I saw others walking on the sidewalks with plastic bags draped over their arms. The building itself could make you smile. Shaped like the letter E, paint long ago stripped from its wooden slats.The doors thrown wide open the entire length of building so you could just glimpse in and know something was going on inside.

Once I was in  I realized how much fun this place is going to be. I felt like I had stumbled into an open air market in the Bahamas! Color was everywhere. No only just farm produce and plants offered, I also found soy candles,  a butcher shop, a grill, beads and chimes, cut flowers, loads of enticing baked goods, and in the back corner a musician had set up and was serenading us making the whole experience lovely.

Before I made my way out, I came across a gentleman sitting behind a booth (cafeteria style table with sturdy legs!)  reading a book. I was drawn by the smell!  Laid out in front of him were baked goods wrapped in cellophane. Small breads and large cookies.

I choose the cinnamon bread (for Joe) (a treat, he has put up with me the past week with this fast).

We began to talk. "Did you bake this?"

"No, but its my recipe. Heath Department has all these rules."

We talked about the virtues of lard verses butter.

He told me he had made a Peach cobbler recently and would love to make a blackberry one. Had I seen the prices of blackberries?

He told me about making the crust and kneading in the butter and separating it out into three separate sections and rolling it out just so.

I was impressed. I told him I just slap it all together without much thought.

"Cooking is like art." He began. "I myself am a writer. I get an idea, I write about it and then I go back and edit it. I add a little here, change a little there. When I am finished, it doesn't resemble what I started out with at all".

I asked him to make me a peach cobble and hide it under his table.

I'm certain it is a masterpiece.

THE RESULTS ARE IN

I must admit, I am impressed.

Checking the book out of the library and devouring the pages in a single sitting, I developed a lot of expectations.  I wanted to "feel like a kid again". I wanted to have the mental acuity that was a by-product for the author. I wanted to have my nose free from the suffocating feeling I experience in the mornings. I wanted to free myself from my sugar cravings. I longed for more energy. And the thought of the weight loss tantalized me.

The fast was to be for 10 days. Telling my best bud D. about it over the phone right before I began, she asked, "How long do you think you will last?"

"Five days."

I lasted SIX!!

At the beginning of the fourth day I abandoned the lemon juice concoction and made a huge pot of fresh vegetable soup. I then drank the broth the remaining three days.

I lost 10 - 12 pounds.

The metal acuity alluded me, but I have an astonishing ability to focus!

I feel I have more personal mental energy.

I no longer felt the mid-afternoon urge to find somewhere warm and cozy to lay down. Instead, on the drives home at the end of the work day I would marvel at how un-tired I actually felt!

My head still feels stuffy, but that tells me I have to work on that. Or I am sensitive to the chemicals floating around this area. (big industrial farming).

My joints are great!! Great I'm telling ya!! My barometer is how I get out of the bed in the morning. In the past, as I have eased into middle age, the ritual of staggering down the hall way like a drunken sailor because of the stiffness in the knees and back has been a major concern of mine.

Gone.

The next hard part begins now, beginning a healthy eating life style.

I'm off the Farmers Market!!

DETOX IS NOT FOR WEENIES

Day Three and still no adverse effects.

The diet is like this....of course I only read a portion of the book and listened to the CD, so when I started I had no idea what I was doing, other than flushing out my system.

First of all, there are many variations of the diet to choose from. I naturally went with the most radical. If at any time I think I am going to pass out, or keel over...which I do anyway without being on a detox.....or am just uncomfortable, I can switch to a friendlier program within the parameters of the anticipated end.

The radical one I am doing is the Lemon Water Wash Out (my name).

I drink water, 8  - 12  glasses (8oz), of this particularly nasty yet comforting glass of fresh squeezed lemon juice..(one lemon is about five tablespoons), maple syrup and cayenne pepper.

I kid you not.

The first time, I felt the fire going down. First my mouth, then my throat and about 20 minutes later I felt it spreading through out my stomach. Something in this mixture suppresses the appetite and gives you the necessary energy.

Then you drink lots of bottled water in bewteen. After the first day, I have not been confined to the bathroom! Go figure. And you can have chamomile tea and any tea that is a diarrhetic.

Major Flush out the body is the name of the game.

According to what I am reading, the organ cleansing begins with the top and works down. Brain power! I certainly could use more of that.

When your body tells you it has had enough, you begin back gradually and then your new life of a healthy eater begins.

No more meat, no more sugar, no more alcohol, no more caffeine, fried foods...forget it!

I guess I may become a vegan!

The scary thing is this, our foods and our envirornment are so full of chemicals that we don't realize how poisioned we have become. We are just use to feeling that way. Stuffy nose in the morning, joints that hurt and ache, skin problems, allergies...the irratants in our enviornment that cause us harm is endless.

It is day three and I am feeling pretty good.

A TOXIC GRAND SEND OFF

The most ordinary things can bring the unexpected. Such as taking my Brother-in-Law to the annual week-end gathering at Norris Lake in Tennessee. He hitched a ride at the half way point for me, Louisville, en-route to eastern TN.

He supplied the entertainment, an envelope of CD's he had received from New Dimensions. Thought provoking interviews conducted for broadcast over the airwaves, akin to NRP.

I thoroughly enjoyed most the CD's but by far the most interesting was Dr. Elson M. Haas. He took approximately one hour to convince me to consider his "New" Detox diet.

I considered it all week. And I decided to do it! I figured Friday or Saturday would be the best time of the week for life altering changes.

If I was going to totally change my eating habits, saying good-bye to alcohol, caffeine, sugar etc. etc. etc, then I really needed to give them a Grand Send Off.

What a week!! First I had to list all my favorite stuff and them stuff them into me.

Donuts from the terrific bakery that is a hole in the wall in New Haven.

A lunch at the Chinese Buffet in Auburn.

A Blizzard from DQ.

McDonalds. The McGriddles.......yum. And double cheeseburger.

Burger King...Whopper and Onion Rings.

Lot's of Coconut Rum.

My unbelievably delicious dish of chicken and squash cooked in a wok and smothered in Swiss Cheese and fresh tomatoes.

Frozen Custard...Chocolate mint with M&M's.

A cinnamon crisp from Panera's.

Oh, a mixed berry muffin from Panera's.

That's about it.

Now I am detoxing and well into day two. Not too bad at all. It is a pretty radical program and I am surprised that I am not hungry at all.

Should I be?  Gosh!!!

ADVENTURES IN DAVID'S BRIDAL SHOP

...or My New Career as a Wedding Planner 

The big news is that they have decided to put off the wedding until next year. Hurray. I do feel like I bribed them just a wee bit, but my new assignment as a Wedding Planner necessitates that it be postponed until a later day.

Yet, we kept our appointment at David's Bridal Shop.

Some one should have clued me in.

What a racket. A sweet racket, a joyful racket, an honest racket, but a racket all the same. Bridget and I walked down the aisle of a million white and off white wedding dresses and she picked out no less than 15 of them to try on.

We got into the back area and hustled into a room and handed a bustier and then the work began. Somehow it felt like tying to get the glass slipper on. No, not the glass slipper but that scene from GONE WITH THE WIND where Scarlett is being laced into the corset.

It was hard work, but I finally got her snapped in. Then the dresses. Over the head or step in? We opted for over the head at first. Where oh where did Bridget go???

The first two dresses did not fit. I could not get the first zipped up. The second was better, but it was all I could do it get it hooked and zipped. I was afraid she was going to rip it. The sales person had exchanged several of the dresses for a larger size, assuring Bridget that the sizes were misleading, and people always sized up and that they truly had to fit at the top....most important thing.

The third dress was ....

Well, she put it on, stepped out of the dressing room and onto the pedestal. My heart was in my throat. 

It was as if she had slipped on a dress made of magic. This was THE dress. 

Then I started to cry.

I REMEMBER!!

Shame on me, I could not remember Mark's last name.

I woke up this morning and the first thought in my head was .... His Last Name. It sounded so much like a hilarious post Saturday Night Live comic's name that I thought maybe I was wrong. I checked on-line and sure enough, there is a doctor in North Kentucky, an internist, with that name! Hurray! I remembered. I will drop him a line in the next several days. We will see what happens.

Things like this happen to me all the time. I'll be searching for the answer to a tricky question and wake up in the morning with the solution fresh in my head. I'll wake up and go, "Oh no!! I forgot to do 'this or that' yesterday".

All the time.

Its a lot easier and healthier than banging my head on concrete or ice. That brings it home too. I come to seeing stars and saying, "Oh yes, that's where I left that key to the old root cellar in 1965."

OUTER LIMITS OF CONSCIOUSNESS SOUP

Have you ever had one of those moments when the mind is not engaged in thinking, or planning, or talking. Just a pleasant nothingness and then like a tiny explosion, a memory or a place or a long forgotten person just materializes on the Main Screen of your consciousness?

On the ride home this afternoon, prompted by absolutely nothing I can put a finger on, I remembered a friend from years ago, a life time ago.

Maybe it was the chicken breasts I purchased. Maybe it is the cloak of the wedding that I am wearing every day, all day. Like a tiny ball circling around looking for a hole to fall through, I suddenly had a mental picture of Dr. Mark.

I have not thought of Mark in a very long time. We met over 20 years ago, when Bridget was just a tyke and we were living on the top apartment of an old Victorian House in The Highland Area of Louisville. Our landlord lived below us. He had received a summer job of teaching high school students at the Governors Cup (?) Scholarship program at Murray State University. (small world). He had the idea that he would rent out his apartment for the summer months.

And that was how Mark came into our lives.

Mark was engaged to a girl back home. He had recently completed his internship at U0fL for his MD in internal medicine. He had traded his student loans for working several years at a clinic across the river in Indiana. (kind of like the program Northern Exposure, except it was warmer).

Cathy and I were still roommates. The absent land lord had put in an above ground pool the year before. Part of Mark's "landlord" duties was to keep the pool clean. And to have a pool party every night!

The entrance to our apartment on the second floor was next to the bottom front door. Mark would open the door and yell upstairs, "Who's cooking dinner tonight??!!"

Our favorite was bar-b-que chicken cooked over the tiny hibachi. And fresh corn on the cob. Followed by beer and a swim in the pool.

When Cathy and I had our falling out and Mark had to find other lodging accommodations due to the impending return of the land lord, I ended up with Mark as a part of the break up of the Mary and Cathy show.

He helped my brother and myself move me to another area of Louisville, Hikes Point. We remained good friends and companions for the remainder of his tenure in Louisville before returning home and marrying his girl friend.

We went to ball games together. We hung out together.We watched tv together and we wrapped Christmas presents together. He went to Oaks with me and Faye...he was the first to clue me in on what I was already suspecting, Faye was on her way to alcoholism.....

Then he moved home to Northern Kentucky, got married and we lost touch.

He was a good friend. He once shook his head at me struggling with Bridget and laughed. "Wait till she is a teenage, she will KILL you."

I'd love to share with him that I survived and that she is about to get married.

I wonder what he looks like now? 20 years ago he was tan, blonde and had an overbite and a way of standing ( I see him in my minds eye now) with his hands on his hips and his head forward and his mouth slightly open.

I bet I could find him....now that Cathy and I are reunited and she has special access to secret non-published data bases.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm..............

WEDDING PLAN UPDATE

First of all I would like to thank everyone for their comments. I found them very helpful and insightful.

They have found a Bed and Breakfast that they like. It will cost $600 to rent for the wedding. "What about the reception?" I asked.

"Well, that will cost more!" she replied.

"It's going to cost us more anyway." I was mentally grinding my teeth.

With the late notice, meaning that most people have plans and commitments for the month of August already, I would count on sixty people max. Just family and some friends.

At least they have found a place.

I am cashing in some stocks and waiting for the checks to arrive. Once I send the "seed" money,  the die is cast.

The die is cast.

BEATLE MANIA REVISITED

 

Memoral Day Weekend 2006

I was 10 years old when the Beatles were introduced to America via the Ed Sullivan show. It was love at first scream. I really don't remember the first time I had heard the songs. I do remember the first one though, it was She Loves You.

Yea. Yea. Yea.

My first Beatle album was "The Beatles Second Album". Followed by Rubber Soul, A Hard Days Night, Sergeant Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band and finally Abbey Road.

My friend and fellow maniac, Judy, filled in with "Meet the Beatles" and others, of which now I can not remember. We spent hours at each others house listening to these albums along with our numerous 45's.

I coveted a Beatle wig. It was not to be. But I did manage to have a totally fab Beatle poster that was about four feet long and maybe 18 inches wide. It was red and each Beatle head was in a white star, along with extra pictures of them full length in the back ground. I also had a white sweat shirt with the Beatle logo.

I had as many Beatle magazines as I could afford on my puny allowance. Only one remains now. Minus the cover. I think I remember purchasing that mag. I think I remember the cover,  a "16 Magazine" special edition.

I also collected Beatle cards. I wrote an entry about those long ago...

I had a George Harrison doll, about four inches in height and sporting a brown mop top. He was wearing a dark suit. He may have been holding a guitar. I recall he had very luscious lips.

I out grew my Beatle mania at an early age. Around my sophomore year in High School, after listening to the Beatle's White Album a million times in Suzy's secret room, I graduated to bands like Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, and Janis Joplin.

Last Saturday on the belvedere in Louisville I found myself at a Beatle Tribute Festival singing the words of the songs, long ago imprinted indelibly on my brain.

It was fab. We wandered from stage to stage sampling all the different interpretations and imitations.

A lone guy from England performing only George Harrison songs.

A girl band from who knows where with the drummer belting out "Twist and Shout".

My personal unusual favorite at the festival, fifty people on the stage with guitars, tambourines andvoices all singing Run for your Life. (among others).

Run for your Life seemed to be a constant of each band.

My choice for number one mind blowing interpretation ....Nervous Melvin and the Mistakes rendition of Tomorrow Never Knows. I was spell bound and my heart was thumping as they spun a totally unique sound without loosing the essence of the song.

Next year, I will be better prepared.

Camcorder.

WICKED WITCH

Joy and Frustration

 

Last week my daughter called and informed me that S. had proposed to her and she had accepted. I was overjoyed and began crying! I am so happy for her. Thrilled for her.

After the moment, I immediately began planning the wedding.

I have to butt out. This is her wedding and they will do it the way HE wants.

I am annoyed beyond words. He is an introvert and does not want a large wedding. She is succumbing to his wishes. If he had his way, they would just slip away and have a civil ceremony. I have a large family and tons and tons of friends I want to share this joy with. IT is becoming apparent this is not going to be a typical Irish wedding.

To say I am disappointed would be an understatement. I want to get him alone in a room for a few minutes and tell him exactly how it is going to be, but I love my daughter and I want her to be happy. And if making him happy makes her happy....then so be it. I don't have to like it. Yet, I must accept it.

I wrote out a long list of things she needs to be doing.

He freaked out at the length of the list. "This is exactly what he did not want." She informed me.

What?? No photographer? No flowers? No invitations? No guest list? No caterer? No wedding dress?

I am 300 miles away and it will be impossible for me to help out with details. She can not put it off and think it will all come together the week before.

How do you survive this?

FIRST STOP

 

We first went north of Tampa to visit my Mother's sister, my Godmother Auntie M. She is a character and I love her dearly. I suppose that with age comes a cantankerous attitude towards certain things. I suppose at my age, I find this quite amusing. At Bridget's age, she finds it disturbing and a bit scary.

I was telling Auntie M about my trip to Kentucky to visit my Mom and the three hour wait I endured on I-75 as they continued to clean up a hazardous waste accident involving several semi's.

Bridget wanted to know what the danger would be.

Auntie M leaned toward Bridget. "You drive over it, go home, park your car, go in the house, begin to prepare dinner and the next thing you know.....BOOM!!!!!!!" Bridget jumped three feet.

We spent two days visiting and Auntie M insisted on taking us to Rogers Christmas House. Actually five Christmas houses each with a different theme. It was interesting and quite pretty, but we were eager to get to the beach! Bridget and I amused ourselves by taking lots and lots of pictures.

As punishment for our lack of interest (from God above) Auntie M decided to turn on the air-conditioning on the 20 mile ride back to her condo. She rolled up the windows and turned on the air...not the conditioning. Like my Mother, Auntie M does not like to waste gas on the real thing.

I worried about Bridget in the back seat and turned to look at her.

She had the window rolled as far down as it would go, about 1/3 of the way, and had as much of her head as she could possibly squeeze hanging out the window.

It was not funny at the time, but hilarious in the remembering.

 

FRACTURED VACATION FRAGMENTS

Louisville International Airport Standiford Field Story - Tampa International Pix

I love airports.

I love the anticipation, the urgency, the packing, the hint of panic. The wonder and awe of flying. I love checking in. I love holding the boarding pass in my hands. The ticket to adventure, freedom, the unknown, happiness, new experiences, the beginning of memories.

I love arriving with time to wander around the terminal and absorb the air surrounding me. The air filled with others traveling...Their anticipation, their trepidation, their joy, their sadness, their dreams. The climate is heavy with every type of emotion and feeling.....hanging. So real you can almost reach out and touch it.

Bridget and I found our gate and within moments she went to find the smoking room. She dragged me along with her so she would not be alone. We spent  five minutes with her burning one and me talking about a book I had recently read about a women who rode the rail in the smoking room because that is where the most interesting people collected and bonded.

She slightly moved her head to direct my attention to a young man fervently talking to a couple...heading to Texas (there is nothing you can't overhear if you listen) ...Her facial expression read, "He is annoying and drunk. And he does not quite fit your description of your typical interesting smoker riding the rail."

Needless to say, I was very excited to visit Florida, and just as needless, Bridget needed to smoke.

She made the trip alone to the smoking room several times. The last time we were preparing to board the plane and she rushed up, all animated that she had seen a ticket someone had dropped on the stairs leading up to the smoking area.

"Did you pick it up and turn it in?"

She looked at me like I was talking Greek. "No...someone behind me saw it too."

Just at that moment we were distracted by a loud clamor to our right. The guy from smoking room upstairs was raising his voice to the clerks manning the Airline desk. We watched in that typical "tisk tisk" way that women have when they are proven right about his liquor intake...when I suddenly realized he was taking about his ticket.

"Bridget...Do you think he LOST HIS TICKET??"

She looked sideways at me. "It's possible...."

She walked over to him and informed him of the stray ticket on the stairs.

He took off running.

"It will be my luck he'll sit next to me." She muttered.

He didn't.

He should of.

He could have bought me a drink.

 

THIS CLOSE TO BEING A HOOSIER

Joe told me that he knew several people who flunked the Indiana Drivers test. That scared me!  I am one of those people who allow their license to expire on occasion and have to re-take the written test. Over the years I have taken the test in Kentucky three or four times and once in Texas. With the exception of the Drivers permit test (I studied like a crazed young kid, which I was)I have just walked in off the street and taken the test and passed, no sweat.

 

This off hand remark about people flunking, and people studying hours for the test threw me off my game.

 

I worried and I put it off until it can no longer be put off. I need a drivers license to get a rental car in Florida!! My expired license is about to get me into more trouble than I care to tussle with.

 

Early this morning I marched in and got in a very long line to officially become a Hoosier driver! I had to hand over my Kentucky license, my pass port, my  SS card,  my bank statement, and a pay stub!!  Hoosiers do not mess around.

 

I really really sweated the test. But I flew through it and even went back and corrected several answers which I shaded in "B" when I really meant "C" and was doing it for a third time when I stopped short and realized I was sabotaging myself.

 

The signs were tricky. Is this a "yield" or a "slow moving vehicle" sign. Is this a "Yield" or a "no passing sign". Very tricky. All they gave were blank signs. You were only allowed to miss two of them to pass. Holy mackerel. I did not study them enough.

 

All in all, I only missed the driver permit questions. I skimmed over them thinking they were not relevant to my situation. Which they were not, but the test is not a tailor made exam for only me.

 

I almost flunked the eye test! First with the $1 glasses. Oh boy, that's impossible to read. Then my prescription glasses. Worse!!

 

"Just try it with out any glasses" she instructed me.She was so kind. It was rough, and she estimated me at 20/40 in each eye. I almost blew it. I think she may have even helped me once by letting me guess at it over and over until I got it (it looked like Japanese symbols! I swear!)

 

I became an organ donor. Though I told her to be sure to give a warning about my eyes.

 

The picture.....

 

I headed for the nearest Beauty Salon and had a hair cut immediately afterwards.

TEN COOL THINGS THIS WEEK

I need more time to write entries. Where oh where did all my time go? I think I am taking work much more seriously than I did down South. I have to. Things are very different up here. Much more intense. When I was able to spend a leisurely hour or two in the library reading and writing...all in the past.

Yet it's okay. It's all good. I'm not complaining.

On to Lisa's inspiration to list ten positive things from the past week...and away we go.

1)  I lost Joe's Ran Ban Wayfarers! That's bad. I found a pair on E-bay and won them!! That's good. Then I discovered they were from the UK and I was bidding in dollars that would be converted to pounds. That's bad! But in the end, they cost me less that ordering them new. So that was good.

2)  For someone that is suppose to have some smarts about her, I sure can be dumb. I found out that at Walmart (or K-mart of Target or any of a million places) I can purchase picture frames (some pre-matted!) at a fraction of the cost  a gallery or frame shop charges. And if I buy the photographs already matted....

3)  Have a new customer who is Italian and has the most intoxicating accent. I was able to avert a disaster (or so he thought so) for him. I met him several days later and when we were introduced and he made the connection....!!! Nothing like a sexy Italian to make you feel like a woman!

4)  Thanks to Jae and her 30 day challenge, I got out and exercised four out of seven days. I know, I know...but it is better than zero out of seven days.

5)  My boss decided out of the blue to ride with me on Wednesday. It was okay, a trifle stressful and annoying because my car was messy and my day was thrown into a flux. I have to look at it in such a way as I get a great lunch. On Friday he hunted me down and told me he was going to ride with me again. I felt my heart flip-flop! What did I do to deserve this!! What!!! What!!! Why??? Why??? I tried to throw my co-worker under the bus..."Wouldn't you rather ride with him?" After torturing me for about five minutes, he told me he was joking. Gosh....that was wonderful.

6)  I was able to make it to the Historical Society for their annual Herb sale. They dress up in colonial outfits and sell heirloom plants. They are cheerful and chatty and full tid bitsof knowledge about the plants. I purchased several things along with some fertilizer that you make a tea for use!! They showed me. Far-out!!

7)  I stayed home this week end and did nothing but fool around in the yard and relax. It was a wonderful two days.

8) On Sunday I went on a walk around the downtown area to just try and find some photo op's when I happened upon a Living History Outing going on at The Fort. What fun! I truly enjoy that sort of thing and after a bout of shyness was able to over come it and began to take photo's. Unfortunately, the turn out, at least at the time I was there, was pitiful. A handful of people. Such a shame that this type of effort to preserve and teach is virtually ignored by the community. Maybe I should volunteer to help out with P.R. and marketing.

9)  Found out about a wonderful festival going on in Tampa on May 20th called The Heatwave. It is going to be held in the Cuban Club in Ybor City. Performing on one of the six stages is THE SAW DOCTORS!!!!!

10)  I'm going to be there!! Bridget is able to travel with me and we will taking a Mother/Daughter trip together next week! Hurray!!

This was one great week!

IT'S GOING TO TAKE A MIRACLE

My sunglasses, my sunglasses..boo hoo hoo.

I went into an ice cream parlor yesterday. It had appeared on the top of the "Best Of" list. I had to go try it out and see if it held any credence. I remember distinctly raising my sunglasses to the top of my head thinking, "It's overcast!! You don't need these on". I vaguely remember seeing them on the table top as I ate my ice cream (Moose tracks and mint chocolate chip).

Then I was looking for them as the sun made an appearance later that afternoon. It was very glaring. Very. The sun was desperately trying to hang on as a fast approaching black ominous storm was challenging its authority.

I went through all the usual places. On top of my head. No.

On the sun visor. No.

In my purse. I cleaned my purse out, piece by piece. No.

I quickly made a survey of all the things in the basket in between the bucket seat...no glasses.

I pulled the car over, because I was now getting serious and the first twinges of panic were beginning. I went to the passenger door and opened it hoping to find the glasses wedged next to the seat where they would have slipped off. Not there.

I crawled into the back and looked under the seats. Nothing.

It was hopeless. They are lost. I began calling everywhere I had been. I even back tracked to the ice cream store.

They checked under the counter. "Ah, here are some." My heart began to beat faster! She pulled out some funky metal things. I must have looked like I was going to cry because she quickly slid them back under the counter.

"Guess not".

What am I going to do? I love those glasses. I have had them since I lost that other pair last summer. I left them in the back room of a Walmart! I hastened back then, but in a matter of minutes, they were gone.

Damn! Joe does have good taste in glasses. He is going to be very angry that I have yet again lost another pair!! Of his glasses! A pair of  classic Wayfarers this time!

I thank God there is E-bay.

I dedicate this entry to Tina from Ride Along With Me. One of the very first entries I read of hers  was about being un-photogenic. I adore being behind the camera instead of in front of it. I hate looking at myself on film (digital) even though when I do years later I say, "damn I looked good back then".

So this is me, trying to look all black and white for a Round Robin challenge last year...self portrait I think.

Here I am, in all my big nose glory in my gone forever Ray Bans.

 

WEEKEND ASSIGNMENT

Naturally, a day late and a dollar short.  Sorry Blogfather.

 

Just this past Saturday, my daughter and I visited the greatest locally owned Music Shop in Louisville, EAR-X-TACY. A trip to Louisville is incomplete if I miss a visit to this fantastic store. It is friendly, full of used CD's beside  the new stuff. The staff wanders the crammed aisles and actually ask if you need help finding anything. You can find people from all walks of life browsing through the eclectic offerings. The store is housed in an old building, two stories high, with  worn floors  and stuff hanging from the ceiling. Record albums are available for the old school. It is a throw back to the hippie era when everyone wore patchouli and no one wore a bra.

 

I picked up three CD's......

 

1) Johnnie A....Sometime Tuesday Morning.  I first heard this guy on Bob and Tom's morning show and then promptly forgot about him. Until I found this album in the Used Blues section. It is fabulous.

 

2) Ashley MacIsaac.... PRIDE.  He put up his fiddle and locked the case. This album is punk/rock and a total swing of the pendulum from his Celtic stuff. Bridget and I gave it two thumbs up.

 

3) The Saw Doctors.... The Cure. When I saw them in Cleveland in March they did not have any copies of the new album. Go figure? I have been meaning to order it via their web site, but just have not gotten around to it, I have been so enthralled listening to their other latest album, a New's Year Live Album with a different variation of HAY WRAP and others....I confess, I have not taken the new one out of the wrapper yet.

 

OH MY GOD!! I just read where the Saw Doctors are going to be in Tampa on May 20th!!!

COFFEE GRINDS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CUP

Brain Probe

Sitting in Bob Evans worrying about my failing memory.  I'm always thinking about the loss of those tiny moments, small conversations, quiet spaces and the many non-earth shattering occurrences of my life. Where have they gone? Do they still hold residence in my brain? Behind doors closed with the locks of marijuana abuse and alcohol residues?

If someone, some mad scientist, inserted a mind probe and gently, please ever so gently, poked...would I be able to recall in vivid detail faded recollections from ...say the summer of 1974? What was I feeling, hoping for, dreading? Where was I in terms of self-awareness, self-destructiveness, self-esteem, self-development, self-reliance, self-examination, selfishness, selflessness?

I think of 1974 because I am drinking coffee out of a small ceramic breakfast mug and finishing off the remains of a $7.89 breakfast at Bob Evans and recalling the $0.99 plate breakfast at a little old Hole in the Wall off campus in Murray Kentucky, called the Hungry Bear.

I have vivid vague memories of the place, usually because I was in the throws of a magnificent hang-over. The diner was right across the street from the Sig-Ep house, of which I was a Little Sister and beyond that, a constant visitor. Not only the Sig-Eps hung out there, but everyone else including, but not limited to,....straights, freaks, GDI's, frat boys, jocks, hippies, do-gooders, Bolio's, grad students, professors, drunks, flunkies, Narc's, sorority chicks, bootleggers, Viet Nam vet's, ROTC, police, police wanna bes, drug addicts, Homecoming Queens, locals, barefoot, long hair, no hair, motor cycle riders, punks, pot heads, sweeties, jerks, hoods, car thieves, drug smugglers, artists, crazy people and their girlfriends, and people from New Jersey.

Besides the $0.99 cent menu the biggest attraction was the 7 foot mangy stuffed bear in the corner...a  real bear once....Complete with teeth revealing snarl and extended arms with the four inch claws!

Yikes!!

Before it was the Hungry Bear, it was a B-B-Q place called the Saucy Pig. Considering the clientele, the name was constantly bastardized to "The Hungry Pig" or "The Saucy Bear". More often than not it was referred to as either "The Pig" or "The Bear"...as in, "Let's go to the Pig".

We'd sit bleary eyed, eating our $0.99 cent specials, drinking our bottomless coffee and staring at that stuffed bear.

The samemeal is now $7.89 at Bob Evans.

And a darn good price for 30 year old memories. Much less expensive than a brain probe from a mad scientist, more than likely an ex-customer of the Pig.
  

CHILDREN ARE THE HANDS BY WHICH WE TAKE HOLD OF HEAVEN

Quote from Henry Ward Beecher (1813-1877)

Several days ago I stopped at a park and enjoyed the spring time weather. There was a rather large pond made complete with at least twenty ducks and geese. No, it was made complete with two older women attending a young girl child and her small training wheeled bicycle.

Being alone, I was able to just sit and enjoy the sunshine and people watch. Besides the young girl and her custodians, there was a middle age couple desperately in love. Not that they were smooching or openly fondling each other, but very gentle and holding hands, bodies always touching. Young love in the bloom.

Another lone character who was slowly walking the perimeter of the pond. Perhaps searching for the best spot to cast a fishing line?

It was a gorgeous day and we all celebrated it in our little peaceful realms of togetherness with nature.

The couple offered the little girl a handful of soft bread from the loaf they had retrieved from the car. All walked to the small dock on the pond, perfect and intended for duck feeding.

A flood of memories poured over me as the little girl, clad in a pink jacket tossed the bread over the railing into the waiting crowd of now noisy grouped fowl crying for the crusts of bread.

Bridget must have been around two years old. The jacket she is wearing above is the jacket she was wearing that fateful day we went to Cave Hill Cemetery off Bardstown Rd.

Going to the cemetery and feeding the ducks in the murky and muck ridden pond was one of her favorite things to do. We would first go to the day old bread store and purchase for dimes several loafs of stale bread. She would be so excited on the short drive. Being winter, I would bundle her up in several layers into that blue jacket along with mittens.

She was so  excited that as I "unleashed" her from the car she began to run at full reckless two year old speed down a small hill towards the pond.  Once I realized she was out of control I went after her.

In one tiny gloved hand, outstretched towards the ducks in the pond, was a lone slice of bread.

She never slowed down.

Over the lip of the grey limestone lined rim into the pond she went! With me giving chase behind her. She was up to her waist in the muck. What relief! I had no idea how deep the pond was going to be and had no hesitation of going in after her. Instead I just grabbed her and yanked her back out.

Still with the bread outstretched in her hand.

At the time it was not funny. 23 years later it is a priceless memory.

TEN EXCELLENT GOOD THINGS

LISA'S BRAINCHILD

Yesterday I had my doubts about coming up with ten things. I thought, maybe four or five. This is the magic and beauty of the exercise! Once you let your mind wander through the days of the previous week trying to focus and pinpoint the good things...guess what, not only did I unearth four or five I came up with over ten.

1)  Got a raise! Yea!! And an excellent review. They don't know me very well yet. HA!

2)  Had to go see the Doctor at the immediate care center and really lucked out! Got a woman and got in and out in under an hour. And...got good drugs. lol!!

3)  Found a terrific antique/flea market in Ft. Wayne. Spent an enjoyable lunch hour browsing through all the old photographs, books, magazines, dresses, paintings, furniture, toys...the list was endless.

4)  Spent all week-end in my yard gussying it up. One thing about Ft. Wayne, everybody takes pride in their yards. I planted a lot of summer bulbs in the back and have some blooms for the front. Some gladiolus in honor of my Grandmother who never smiled.

5)  I finished The Beast...a 250 page handwritten personal journal that I have laboring in for a year and a half. It was one of those experiences where at the beginning it was all exciting and stimulating and at the end it was "GOSH, will it ever end." And it did. Never again. Only those mousy 100 or 150 page deals from now on.

6)  Took a trip (work related) to upper Indiana and bought three bottles of fabulous raspberry wine from Satex Winery in Angola.

7)  I ran in the 5K Mastodon Stomp several weeks ago and signed up so late that all the T-shirts were gone! Because of my work connection with the establishment that sponsored the race I was able to receive one!! It came in the mail on Friday. Unexpectedly! The best kind of packages.

8)  Joe gave me an unexpected gift this week, a beautiful pink golf shirt/sweater. I am so lucky to have him in my life.

9)  Reality TV. I just love it. I only watch three shows on TV, two of them are reality. The other is The Soprano's...which I love too. But the Reality...geez! Amazing Race is now on at a time I can remember and stay up for. I loved the couple Lake and Michele, not sure where they are from but those Southern Accents were music to my ears. Too bad they were eliminated last week. I don't know, it just tickled me to hear them go at it with each other. Especially when he said, "Bitch, Shut-up" in that high pitched Southern Accent. You had to be there. Does not translate to the written word.

10)  The last thing is just a thought, a seed that my sister Kit planted last week at the family gathering to celebrate Easter. Seems there is a couple somewhere up north who decided to try for a year to diminish their dependency on consumerism. She is going to grow her own vegetables, only purchase clothes second hand....etc.etc.etc. They will only purchase the absolute necessities. Wine is consider a necessity. (the husband)   I find it very intriguing and wonder if I could cut my consumption in half.....could I do it?

I did give up alcohol for six weeks...except for those times the Bishop gave us Irish a dispensation.

I know I have the will power, do I have the desire??

My hit counter just got zapped. I knew it was just a matter of time because it seemed I have been the only left who had not suffered the Zap Monster. So, I just retired it. Seems like a good thing to do. Who cares  (anyway anymore.....)?

TEN GOOD WEEKLY THINGS

Once again!! Has a week flown by already!! Lisa has inspired me to keep track, usually in my head, the things that have made this week special.  So, here we go...

1)  Thanks to Netflix, I saw Walk the Line and CRASH. Both were really excellent movies, but CRASH...certainly the best movie I have seen in some time. If it had not won the academy award, I more than likely would have missed this superb movie.

2)  After years of resistance (why????) I am reading THE DAVINCI CODE...and can't put it down.

3)  Went to my bosses house for a barbecue on Saturday! We all sat around and watched the guys play ping-pong and ate Snickers Salad.  I got the recipe! Divine.

4)  My long lost gal pal C. sent me a belated birthday gift. Unexpected and lovely. The best kind of gifts!

5)  Found the "Where I'm From" template for writing a poem. It was moving and emotional and a terrific self-examining experience. I can not wait to share it with my family and see the poetry they come up with!

6)  Suddenly, overnight, I see yellow daffodils everywhere!!

7)  At work, we are approaching our manic period (runs till October there abouts) and I am becoming acquainted with some fun accounts! Yea!! Minor League baseball clubs, little leagues, golf courses etc. etc. etc.

8)  Went to the local comedy club, Snickerz, and had a blast! Found out I have passes at work and that means.....I can go whenever I want! Oh, how I love to laugh.

9) Finally being able to go out into the yard and do yard work!! This year, my yard is going to be a masterpiece. (hahahah!!!)

10)  Joe came home!! This was the best of the week's events. I enjoyed the quiet and peacefulness, but I missed him more. Guess I would trade all that for him!

WHERE I'M FROM

 

 

I am from deep Irish Roots, from  the distilleries of Wild Turkey and Guinness Beer, fields of bluegrass and burrens of limestone.

I am from rolling hills and Appalachian mountains. Where the air is smitten with the smell of sour mash, the rivers flow backwards, and  horses run in fields of chicory and goldenrod.

I am from golden tobacco, brilliant white washed fences and county roads lined with rock walls, magnolia trees and white crosses.

I am from worn rosary beads and reckless drinkers. From Burkes and Henry’s to Mollie and Catherine.

I am from the compassionate and the brilliant. The honored and the abandoned.

From the rag bag man and the IRA. From the  River Liffey to the East River.

I am from  women gifted with the sight and men with revolution pounding in their blood.

I’m from the place of famine, crumbling castles,  and rocks thrown in civil disobedience. I am from the emerald where the air is heavy with watery mist and the land ends at cliffs of doom. I am from the place of leprechauns and ghosts.

From scoundrels and saints.

I am from two distinct places, the present and the past. The past lives , mounted behind glass, preserved for future generations the pictures of ancient families, guns and wedding dresses, Hurling sticks and archaic uniforms.

Those who bravely came before us, to give us the freedoms and opportunities they could only dream of.

 

I found this exercise at Cynthia's and had a grand time with it. She found it here.

Weekend Assignment #105: Poetry in Motion

Yet another great challenge from the Blogfather.

Weekend Assignment #105: Share a favorite poem.

Irish Poet...natch. I love this poem and at one time had it memorized.

William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, dramatist and prose writer, one of the greatest English-language poets of the 20th century. Yeats received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923.

 

He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven

 

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

 

Skipping Around the Rules

RULE 7 -- After the age of 30, it is unseemly to blame one's parents for one's life.

Easy for Roger Rosenblatt to write in Rules for Aging.

Let him put on a satin green skirt and dance the jig with ones Mother in front of the most distinguished constituents of the community. Including your friends. Let this happen to you year after year! While you wait for your cue to get up and make a dancing fool of yourself, your Father is signing old Irish love songs in the spot light.

Let Roger compensate for being shipped to another town to attend high school because your parents are hell bent on you receiving a Catholic education! (if only they knew this was not the Catholic schools of their generation!!)

Let Roger cope with his parents being involved with most every aspect of our lives from the time we were in the cradle till we were kicked from the nest...with our walking papers.

Coaching the swim team, car pooling to school, taking us and friends to camp, dragging us to museums, making us go to Mass, and for God's sake, limiting the amount of television we watched.

No No No ... I can never give up blaming them for who I am today!!

 

The fun part of aging is pretending you are wise......You can quote me on that one.

And I shall....the fabulous Angela of the equally fabulous Life As I See It.

I suggest we change Rule Number One to read "Knowing what Matters and What Does Not"

On to Rule Number Two from the book RULES FOR AGING by Roger Rosenblatt...

NOBODY IS THINKING ABOUT YOU.

"Yes I know, you are certain that your friends are becoming your enemies; that your grocer, garbage man, clergyman, SIL, and your dog are all of the opinion that you have put on weight, that you have lost your touch, that you have lost your mind; further more, you are convinced that everyone spends two-thirds of every day commenting on your disintegration, denigrating your work, plotting your assassination.I  promise you: Nobody is thinking about you. They are thinking about themselves - just like you."

Hmmmmmmmm.......

Then I have this other quote I read this week-end (thanks to Cynthia Heimel, author extraordinaire)

"When in doubt, make a fool of yourself. There is a microscopically thin line between being brilliantly creative and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth. So what the hell, leap."

Here is the connection. I am certain that when I have one of my moments...such as telling Leo of Saw Doctors a complete fib and gushing as I babbled on about it....or the time I spilt a drink all over the lead guitarist of Tempest and his girlfriend, those two leap to my mind immediately....that I am mortified for days.

It is nice to know that it is just a fleeting moment for them, and they never will think about it again. If they perchance ever spot me at another once of their concerts, they will not turn and run in the opposite direction.

I know this rule is riddled with cracks regarding its truthfullness, just like the first rule.

They might not think about you, but they will remember!!

This afternoon as I made my way back to the office I made a mental list of all the people I had thought of during the day.

The guy I met at IPFW, who was born in Harlan, KY. The guy I met today who went to school in Morehead, KY. My Mom, my Dad, the Angel Genie, my daughter Bridget, both my sisters, my pal G. in Florida, and then D. in Florida. My husband, dogs in general, my boss, my co-workers, A. who got her hair cut and it looks so nice and Don Johnson.

I threw in good old Don becauseI use to fantasize about him all the time years ago and he just popped into my head.

I was so busy thinking about everybody else, that I had little time to obsess about myself.

It was a relief, because I never ever should have gone through MacDonalds and got that double cheeseburger! I wasn't even hungry. 

RULES FOR GROWING OLD (and senile)

Rules for Aging

This afternoon at work I shuffled through the mountain of papers on my desk no less than three times. While I was in the middle of the second or maybe the third time, looking for an errant sheet of paper I had already found and absentmindedly misplaced again, I prayed that no one in the tight quarters (one small office barely large enough for one person is shared by four of us...the heat generated is something else!) noticed what I was doing.

Which brings me to mention the book I am reading.....Rules for Aging by Roger Rosenblatt.

Rule # 2......Nobody is thinking about you.

Thank God.

Actually, I am finding this book immensely entertaining in several regards. First, because it so full of common sense. Secondly, why didn't I learn these things long ago when it might have counted. It could have changed the direction my life was taking. It's incredible how many times I broke these rules.  And I still do!

Each rule is like a little nugget full of wisdom. A light goes off in my head and I think, "oh yea....I sure broke that rule the time I............. (fill in the blank).

Rule # 1 .......... IT DOES NOT MATTER.

"Whatever you think matters - it doesn't."

I can not possibly agree with this one. Sure, I see the possibilities that it is inconsequential if you are late, early, there or not there in the BIG PICTURE of things. 10 days from now let alone 10 years from now, what will it matter if I was at that meeting? Or made that dental appointment? But in the short run, it sure as hell matters.

I see the domino effect.

I wish it didn't matter so much. Maybe that should be the belief that I can age gracefully with. It does not matter as much as I think it does. Or possibly, there are things that I think matter....making a lot of money, living in a big house, driving a nicer car...it is the material things that are not important. If I loose my job, I will not die or starve. I found that out this summer, that I can find another job. It might not be the same, but I will find another job.

Yet, so many things matter a lot to me. I guess the trick is to have the knowledge and experience to know what is important and  which is not.

So, the fact that I shuffled through my disorganized mess of paperwork that I drag from my desk to the car and then from the car back to the desk.....it matters that I found what I was looking for.

And it matters that the guys did not notice, or comment, that I am one disorganized chick.

TEN THINGS

Lisa's Ten Good Things Weekly

This is Lisa's idea and a pretty darn good one. On every Monday she is going to come up with ten good things that happened to here during the past week.

Pretty cool to focus on the good things in life. I carried a piece of paper around, tucked in my purse and when something nice happened, I would jot it down. Even while I was driving down the road. So some of them are difficult to read!

1) LSU beating Duke!! I will never forgive Duke and Christian Laettner for hitting the miracle shot at the final buzzer of the Regional tournament in 1992. If I see it one more time on TV I will scream. Sure, it was a great shot and he was 100% from the field and on the free throw line. A perfect game. But this was our Un-Forgettable UK Wildcat Team!! Anyone who beats Duke gets my total support!

2) I made a promise to myself a long time ago when I first started the journal that I would not write a hair entry. Oh how I have wanted to write a hair entry since then!! So many times!! This is not a hair entry, this is to just acknowledge that I walked into Great Clips and took my chances! You never know what might happen to you and your head. I got a very nice cut. It looks great. For that, I am so grateful.

3) I participated in the 10K (six + miles) in Louisville this week-end. Around mile four, my hip went out of joint.  Oh the pain! The pain!!  I did not quit as much as I wanted to. I finished it. Barely, but I finished it. I really need to practice more...

4) I lost five pounds in two weeks. Yea!

5) After the race Bridget and I drove around. I always take them out to eat. I wanted the delicious fish at the Suburban Women's Club Fish Fry. A great place that use to be a hole in the wall in the South End of Louisville. It was only open from April until November and then, only on Saturdays. When the Papa John stadium was built for the University of Louisville football team, eminent domain was the finish to the Fish Fry. A brand new modern building was built in the same neighborhood. The fish is still wonderful and scrumptious. And it was open this Saturday!! I purchased two pounds of it. There goes my diet...but I had just hobbled through six miles (+)!!!

6) Reading this great book...can't remember the name, something like The Fairy Princess of Brooklyn...and in it was this great story about her meeting Mick Jagger. I wish I had lived in NYC during the 1960's.

7) The sun was shining brightly on Sunday morning and I was able to take a few pictures with my new camera.

8) I made a trip to The liquor barn in Louisville for a "b double e double r u-n" for Joe. I found a bag of candy assorts that I love. I carried it around the store and then right before I checked out, I put it back. Shocker.

9) I couldn't remember the exact birthday of my long lost pal C., but I knew it was sometime last week. I put together a surprise birthday box of goodies and sent it off! It arrived on the right day! Her birthday!


10) Border Book store and their fabulous CD selection. I was able to find exactly what I was looking for, an Ibrahim Ferrer album. I have listened to it about 100 times since I found it. I love this guys voice. I was so crushed when I found out that he passed away in 2005.

This was a great exercise and I look forward to doing this every week!!