I don't write on this blog as often as I should. I think it's mainly because I don't have net access at home, so when I do write, it's from work. And, finding my muse at work is no mean feat, I realize. So, perhaps when I'm online at home, I will have more things to say, more inspiration, along with a beer or three to lubricate the mind.
But, for now, a few things.
The first is that I'm deeply saddened by the death of Steve Irwin, the Croc Hunter. I don't have many, but he was one of my personal heroes, for his unabashed love of all things creepy crawly, his courage & fearlessness even when dealing with a spastic & extremely angry cobra, his sense of humor, and, from what I can tell, just being a good person all the way around. There are few like him in this world, and his death denotes the loss of a good soul & an animal activist, someone who was able to turn a whole new audience on to the wild things & perhaps someone who could inspire love for snakes & bugs & crocs in a younger generation. I'm glad he went doing something he loved, and I wish the best for his wife & two kiddies. He will be missed, by crikey.
The next is something that I just find amusing. Friday afternoon found me sitting at work, Dude across from me at my desk, hashing out flight prospects for some folks he wants to fly in. An hour and a half later, I found myself sitting behind a horse-drawn buggy of Mennonite men at the stoplight in my town. That's what I call variety! I was surprised to see the Mennonites - I know they're out there because I pass them walking down the country roads or see their school bus or see them out & about in their buggies (and even once a young man on a unicycle at the Lake - a very odd sight indeed), but their appearance in town was unusual. I followed them at a distance so as not to pressure them or freak out their horse, and they pulled off at the local gas station which was filled to the gills with locals getting supplies for the football game that night. All of whom stopped to stare. I was definitely curious about what they could ever need at the Citgo station, but Scott solved the mystery when he got home as the men were still at the station when he passed thru. They had to use the phone. Had I known that, I would've offered them the use of my cell phone! *grin* I wonder how far they came from... and how long it took them? I find these lifestyles fascinating....
And, our weekend. It was an uneventful one, spent mainly fishing & hanging out with a bottle of Cuervo & throwing darts. We caught a few bass out at Pete's, one of mine flashing out of the water like a miniature marlin, something that always gets my adrenaline pumping. With just that burst of liquid silver, that fish made my whole day complete. Of course, we threw them all back. Pete was more than glad to see us both nights - he takes special pleasure in harrassing us thoroughly in a most good-natured way, and he loves it when we give it right back to him. He also enjoys giving us hints & even gave me a small gift of plastic catalpa worms. I know, I know. Rubber worms aren't the usual present to make a woman's heart twinge with fondness, but coming from him, it was sweet. Of course, I threw mine into the brushpile & lost my whole rig, but not before catching two of those bass.
Other than that, lawn work, taming my rosebush which I would SWEAR has a secret agenda of taking over the world, starting with the neighbors' yard by creeping over the fence & menacing them with its thorny tentacles, and house cleaning. And having to sanitize litter boxes not the usual once but TWICE when I forgot to clean them on Saturday night, a task I usually do twice a day. Scott was sure the air would be laced with savage profanity upon my discovery of these fouled boxes, but, it was my fault & I felt bad that the picky little asses had to use soiled boxes all night. So, I re-scrubbed them without a word - I might've even been JOLLY during it, and just was thankful to whatever powers that be that the cats didn't opt to express themselves, quite literally, on the floor rather than the nasty boxes.
This morning I was greeted with the usual nausea at the thought of going back to work, but fortunately it didn't resolve itself by vomiting, which is something that happens as of late. The first time, I mentioned it here, I thought, "Oh shit. Unexpected throwing up, feeling better afterwards. I'm pregnant. Fuck." Since then I've realized this is my reaction to Mondays. A case of the Mondays, so to speak. Ugh. It must be either anxiety or an ulcer. Still - when the thought of going into work makes one puke, it's about time for a change, don't you think? I'll be getting on that some day..... after I figure out what I want to do. It's a bitch having a 10-6 job, off weekends, in a cool-ass town with tasty lunch options nearby, liking your desk & co-workers but hating your actual job & disliking most of the people that come with it. No no, that's not fair. I don't really like people at all, but I can deal well with most of them. It's just the ones that drive me up a goddamn tree that make me want to be a roadkill collector. At least then I'd have a reason for the puking!
But, for now, a few things.
The first is that I'm deeply saddened by the death of Steve Irwin, the Croc Hunter. I don't have many, but he was one of my personal heroes, for his unabashed love of all things creepy crawly, his courage & fearlessness even when dealing with a spastic & extremely angry cobra, his sense of humor, and, from what I can tell, just being a good person all the way around. There are few like him in this world, and his death denotes the loss of a good soul & an animal activist, someone who was able to turn a whole new audience on to the wild things & perhaps someone who could inspire love for snakes & bugs & crocs in a younger generation. I'm glad he went doing something he loved, and I wish the best for his wife & two kiddies. He will be missed, by crikey.
The next is something that I just find amusing. Friday afternoon found me sitting at work, Dude across from me at my desk, hashing out flight prospects for some folks he wants to fly in. An hour and a half later, I found myself sitting behind a horse-drawn buggy of Mennonite men at the stoplight in my town. That's what I call variety! I was surprised to see the Mennonites - I know they're out there because I pass them walking down the country roads or see their school bus or see them out & about in their buggies (and even once a young man on a unicycle at the Lake - a very odd sight indeed), but their appearance in town was unusual. I followed them at a distance so as not to pressure them or freak out their horse, and they pulled off at the local gas station which was filled to the gills with locals getting supplies for the football game that night. All of whom stopped to stare. I was definitely curious about what they could ever need at the Citgo station, but Scott solved the mystery when he got home as the men were still at the station when he passed thru. They had to use the phone. Had I known that, I would've offered them the use of my cell phone! *grin* I wonder how far they came from... and how long it took them? I find these lifestyles fascinating....
And, our weekend. It was an uneventful one, spent mainly fishing & hanging out with a bottle of Cuervo & throwing darts. We caught a few bass out at Pete's, one of mine flashing out of the water like a miniature marlin, something that always gets my adrenaline pumping. With just that burst of liquid silver, that fish made my whole day complete. Of course, we threw them all back. Pete was more than glad to see us both nights - he takes special pleasure in harrassing us thoroughly in a most good-natured way, and he loves it when we give it right back to him. He also enjoys giving us hints & even gave me a small gift of plastic catalpa worms. I know, I know. Rubber worms aren't the usual present to make a woman's heart twinge with fondness, but coming from him, it was sweet. Of course, I threw mine into the brushpile & lost my whole rig, but not before catching two of those bass.
Other than that, lawn work, taming my rosebush which I would SWEAR has a secret agenda of taking over the world, starting with the neighbors' yard by creeping over the fence & menacing them with its thorny tentacles, and house cleaning. And having to sanitize litter boxes not the usual once but TWICE when I forgot to clean them on Saturday night, a task I usually do twice a day. Scott was sure the air would be laced with savage profanity upon my discovery of these fouled boxes, but, it was my fault & I felt bad that the picky little asses had to use soiled boxes all night. So, I re-scrubbed them without a word - I might've even been JOLLY during it, and just was thankful to whatever powers that be that the cats didn't opt to express themselves, quite literally, on the floor rather than the nasty boxes.
This morning I was greeted with the usual nausea at the thought of going back to work, but fortunately it didn't resolve itself by vomiting, which is something that happens as of late. The first time, I mentioned it here, I thought, "Oh shit. Unexpected throwing up, feeling better afterwards. I'm pregnant. Fuck." Since then I've realized this is my reaction to Mondays. A case of the Mondays, so to speak. Ugh. It must be either anxiety or an ulcer. Still - when the thought of going into work makes one puke, it's about time for a change, don't you think? I'll be getting on that some day..... after I figure out what I want to do. It's a bitch having a 10-6 job, off weekends, in a cool-ass town with tasty lunch options nearby, liking your desk & co-workers but hating your actual job & disliking most of the people that come with it. No no, that's not fair. I don't really like people at all, but I can deal well with most of them. It's just the ones that drive me up a goddamn tree that make me want to be a roadkill collector. At least then I'd have a reason for the puking!
posted by RCSure | 10:23 AM
1 Comments:
Move south. Be my new friend. Please.
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