Remotely Yours

0500 hrs. and the pot of coffee has dripped to fullness so I poured a cup of coffee and headed for the front porch to watch the healthy folks getting in their morning power walks and dog walks.

The sweat factor is low at 0500 but I wait until 0600 and daylight has shown it's face before I begin. The flowers got watered, deadheaded and weeded, two cars cleaned, both inside and out and 3 loads of laundry done with heavy jeans hanging on the line to dry. As I finished, I glanced through the French doors to the patio where the husband had taken his morning coffee to sip and have his nicotine fix. He has slept through all my racing around this morning. Doing anything outside after 0900 hrs. is just asking to be miserable. By that time, I am inside and getting showered and dressed again.

I stuck my head out the door to say "Good morning, want some breakfast?" fully expecting the usual reply. This morning wasn't "usual" so I headed for the cupboard to get the pancake mix and to the refrigerator to get the bacon. Watching the news on the debate on the debt ceiling we munched our bacon and pancakes and sipped more coffee.

Even at this early hour, I can tell you I have moved into neutral mode and I won't be doing another task today unless it's something that can be done where the air conditioner pushes cool air around.

The most exertion I plan is....now where is that remote control....

See Them? The Watchers?

"Shhhhhhhhhhh...." he said as he gazed up into the trees on one side of the hotel. "Do you see them? Look! In army camo, with binoculars, they are watching this hotel."

The husband stands outside at the back of this hotel to have a smoke and is accompanied by another guest. A thin young man, this fellow watches the trees. Later when the husband recounts this story to me, I thought he said he had seen the soldiers too so I tiptoed to the window and reached up for the wands that are attached to the sheer draperies. I pulled them closed and stayed away from the windows.

I mentioned this to a friend whose husband was career military. He said they don't do maneuvers outside a Holiday Inn. I just smiled.

When I went outside to sit on the bench in the sun with my coffee, my eyes would wander to the trees and I would watch for them, those spies. In conversation with the husband a few days later, I asked if he had seen them again. His answer .."Seen them? I've never seen them. It was that guy that saw them, not me!"  Ah....and the light flashed through this old brain. "Wasn't real was it?" I asked the husband. He just smiled and shook his head.

Later, when I encountered the hotel staff, I begin to hear more stories. The bugs crawling on this fellows arms, the request for Lysol, the scratches on his arms that he says are messages of the religious sort and his claims of people from space watching him. Delusional claims? A break with reality? A schizophrenic?

Apparently the story goes, this young man had been homeless and living in the woods, a drug user locally known.  When hunger drove him to find a church and beg for food, the minister there settled him into the Holiday Inn for some R&R. He is allowed to stay a few days, courtesy of this minister. He is then checked out only to return a few days later and today he is back. He creeps to the front desk to whisper to the desk clerk about someone watching him.

There is someone watching him. I'm keeping an eye on where he wanders and what he is doing. He needs medical attention, not a suite at the Holiday Inn.

I pulled the sheers back to let in the sunshine and I no longer watch the trees for men in camo with binoculars! I now know where to watch and it's not in the trees.

St. Francisville, Louisiana

I had plans for today. I was going to drive the 8 miles into Baton Rouge and hang out. Touring the governor's mansion and the capital was on my 'to see' list.

Those plans changed. I visited the breakfast room and while there became engaged in a conversation with one of the staff members of this hotel. The subject of St. Francisville came up and my plans for today changed. I decided to visit the cotton plantations instead of the government palaces of Louisiana.

20 minutes from here is the town of St. Francisville. A large graveyard sits on the north side of town well within the city limits. The old tombstones are a testament to the age of this little village. Large live oaks touch branch to branch creating a canopy around the perimeter. The hanging moss sways slightly from the humid breeze that occasionally moves through. I toured the historical section of town with the fine big homes that aren't considered plantation homes as they are situated residentially with neighbors yards ajoining.

As I drove by the town park, I realized that I had been here at an earlier time. The white gazebo dominated the middle of this park and this is where I listened to the Angola Prison Band a few years ago. The band played from that gazebo while armed guards stood on each side. In case  you haven't heard these prisoners play, you have missed out on some great musicians and singers. I guess they have lots of practice time.

I was killing time until the plantation tours started. Their were two plantations that I plannned on visiting but when the heavy rains blew in, I cancelled my plans to tour the second one.

Rosedown Plantation   This is where I spent the morning. I walked through the gardens, the winding paths protected by the trees that reached out with their limbs to embrace the neighboring tree, the sun dimly seen through the patchwork of leaves above. Graveled walkways wound around and through the 30 acres of gardens around the mansion called Rosedown.

The tour didn't start until 1000 hrs so I climbed the wide stairs to the porch and seated myself in one of the rockers.

My cell phone camera clicked away as I took pictures and emailed them from where I sat to friends around the country. From the early 1800's when this house was built, who would have imagined we would have came so far? This house during it's heydey in the height of it's growing and producing cotton, maintaining the gardens and with the 10 children raised here and the slave population that lived and worked here had no indoor plumbing. Whale oil for lightning and an outdoor kitchen, this house was the home of the very rich. I can't imagine how the very poor lived. 

Plantation after plantation line the highway out of this town. When the civil war was over, they were all as destitute as the  most common person around. Every plantation suffered the loss of the free labor and these families now struggled to just feed themselves. 


Master Bedroom




The nursery



I enjoyed a private showing. I was the only person waiting to be taken on the tour though later in the morning many more people arrived and were shown around by the second tour guide. My tour was  informative and I got to ask many questions about the families that lived in this magnificent structure. Lucky me. I throughly enjoyed the private attention I received.

Doctor's office

Tomorrow we head back to Lafayette. I'm still encouraging the husband to take a job in Colorado or any place "out west" and "north". He mentions Pennslyvania as a possible location. If that materializes, I'll tag along and rent a car when we get there. I want to go to Virginia and to Thomas Jefferson's home to tour it and the area. I have plans, though loosely bound, I'm ready for the east or the west. It's August here and it's time to leave for a while!

Oh, did I mention the hurricane that is brewing in the Atlantic? I need to check that out also. The husband says it's coming in south of Cuba which is a bad forecast for us on the coast. I'll be watching.  

I'm done!  

I'm Clocked and Ticketed!

I'm back ..back in Zachary. Carrie and I spent one night at home. She at her home and me at mine and yesterday she requested I pick her up so she could spend the day with me. It's the Play Doh. She has an addiction to that stuff and she isn't allowed to have it at her house. We keep it at my house and she keeps returning to play with it.

Yesterday was Lessie's birthday. We celebrated with a red velvet cake, a yellow duck and friends. Time has flown by as it always does. If nothing else, seeing them grow up so fast makes one want to grasp each minute and hour of living. I have more of a past then a future left and that's a strange thing for me to think about. Banish the complaints of boredom. I'm alive today, relatively healthy and I have the ability to "grasp" this time.

Carrie will be spending today and the weekend with her dad so I headed back here to Zachary. A light rain prevented me from putting the top down on the roadster. Without my sidekick, I could actually pack a small suitcase and slip it into the floor board on the  passenger side of the car. I clocked 76 miles to this hotel and was able to calculate gas mileage on that roadster from the fill up before I began this trip. The roadster gets 25 miles per gallon. I don't know if I'm all that impressed. I think the Grand Marquis gets better mileage.

The GPS that I reset to "quickest route" did a wonderful job of staying off the cow paths. Interstate driving until my exit off I-110 north at Exit 6. That is the route I was hoping it would choose. This was a test drive with it this time.

About 4 miles from the hotel, my retinas got a jolt of white light. A second later I realized I would be getting a ticket in the mail for breaking the speed limit on that stretch of two lane highway. I think I was doing 55 in a 45.

As I pulled into the Holiday Inn, I noted another camera set up just beyond the driveway and paused to watch as that brilliant flash of white light recorded car after car that would be receiving their picture in the mail and requesting a sum of money for their misbehaving. Gone are the days of watching for that police cruiser hid in the bushes to use his radar gun and issue you a ticket.  The post office now delivers them right to your doorstep and you never have to show your drivers license to get a winning ticket!

Somehow I resent this. I like the old way. I thought it much more gentlemanly and polite to have the nice officer stroll up to your car after killing the lights and siren that signaled to everyone on the highway your plight, and request your driver's license, registration and insurance card ma'am.

Of course he did the obligatory question of "Do you know how fast you were going?" or " Do you know why I stopped you?" I play dumb right here. I don't admit to a thing so they kindly share and then they take all your paperwork and walk back to their cruiser as you watch them from your side view mirror.

Soon they return but not until they have run a check on you to make sure you don't have warrants out or are a fugitive and that your car is not stolen.

He walks back with his pretty pink ticket book and returns your paperwork along with that pink slip and explains what you are to do.

At least you have a pleasant encounter with the nice officer when you get your ticket. It's just so impersonal getting it in the mail. No one to whine too. No one to try to weasel your way out of it with an excuse that the friendly officer has heard a million times. I miss the "old" days.

Today the roadster will be set to cruise and my favorite reading will be the posted speed limit signs alongside the highway. I haven't had a ticket in years and years. I have broken my winning streak with this ticket and I'm not pleased. I just hope my insurance company is kind to me and doesn't also issue their form of punishment.

I'm done!

A Watery Ride

I'm home (from Zachary). Yesterday afternoon amid the pouring rain, Carrie and I loaded up all our possessions from the hotel room and headed home. I plugged in the GPS and let it guide me back. It was really an experiment with that GPS to see what routes it chose for the return trip.

Sailing through Baton Rouge, we crossed the huge bridge which got us across the Mississippi and soon were crossing the basin. The speed limit across the basin is 60 miles an hour and strickly enforced. After the 100 car pile up several years ago on the basin, the speed limit was lowered and enforced so I set my cruise control and watch all those people with Texas plates on their cars pass me by. I wait to see which one is going to be tagged by the friendly State Police officer.

We crossed the basin without incident. The GPS instructed me to exit at the Cecelia/Henderson exit just a mile up the road. We did.

The first thing we see at that exit is a semi truck broken down and being hooked up to a huge tow truck. The street was blocked and traffic was directed by a local law enforcement officer. He waved us through and we continued on in the rain. A few miles down the road, a blockade was set up and the traffic wasn't allowed to travel through. The water was covering the road and many of the houses had water creeping up to their porches.

I'm beginning to rethink this decision to get off interstate. Will the roads ahead be under water? How many detours and where will they take me?

The next street, the water covered the road and the 4 wheel drives were creeping through. I watched closely to judge the water depth. Have I mentioned I was driving the roadster? Not much clearance in that little car. I took the middle of the road and forced the cars on the other end to wait until I passed through. I could barely make out the bright yellow striping in the center and that's where I drove, straddling it until I got to the other side.

I didn't encounter another flooded road but there was lots of water standing on each side of the highway. When I got home I reset that GPS to take me on the "Quickest route"  instead of the "Shortest route". No more back roads for me!

Today has been another day filled with rain, soggy shoes and wet umbrellas. I made a few grocery store stops and headed home to get into some warm dry clothes.

Inside is the best place to be today and Carrie is of course keeping me company.

It's lunch time for the girl so I'm off to put together her favorite meal. Ramen Noodles. By the time she gets to college she will be totally burned out on this old standby of the college crowd.

I'm done!

Zachary, Louisiana, Population: SMALL

Concrete and thick windows have driven me to the bench in front of this hotel. With coffee in hand, I have escaped the limits imposed by the materials used to build this hotel and limited me to no cell phone use.

It happens. Sometimes we end up in a hotel where we have to either stand close to a window or go to the outside of it to use our cells.

Speaking of phones and we were, were we not? I'm surprised that hotels are still putting phones in the rooms. Have you ever tried to find a pay phone on a street corner these days? A near impossibility isn't it?

I have made a few trips to the darkened room to check to see if Carrie and the husband are awake yet. It is now 0800 hrs and these last room checks still has them fast asleep. The husband propped one eye open and requested I turn off the bathroom light that I had flipped on when I oh so quietly entered. I only stayed for a minute and softly sneaked away again. I find it hard to stay motionless and quiet in a room. I would eventually cause some noise regardless of how hard I tried not to. Stumbling around in a darkened room is not condusive to any kind of quiet.

We may head back to Lafayette this afternoon. I have a doctors' appointment early tomorrow morning and dragging Carrie out of bed to pack her in the car and head home early enought to keep that appointment might prove more trouble then what it's worth to spend another night here.

Yesterday we found a swim mask and some dive rings for her for some pool fun and that is where much of our day was spent. It was an overcast humid day and the coolness of the pool was a good place to be. She wanted to go back last night and swim for a while but I wasn't in to getting back in a suit and back into the water. We will spend the afternoon in the pool then head home before dark.

Carrie starts kindergarten this year. Our carefree spontaneous fun trips are coming to an end and I hate it. April mentioned home schooling but I'm afraid Carrie might get to be 16yrs old and only know how to check in and out of hotels. Not a good thing. She can read the room numbers down the hallways, knows how to inquire at the front desk for her needs and packing and unpacking isn't a problem. She might need to know how to earn a living to pay for that hotel room some day so to school she will go.

We have found 3 restaurants in this town. Most of the eateries are of the fast food variety. Plenty of those but few of the kind where food is actually served on a plate and the  silverware is just that...silver or at least stainless steel. We ended up at a Mexican Food restaurant last night. The shrimp was awesome and Mexican food plates we ordered were good too.

I'll return here in a few days and try out the steak house we found.

Right now, I'm headed back to the breakfast room to load up a plate of food before it closes. Carrie will be hungry when she finally gets out of that bed.

I'm done!

Tell Me About It

The covers on the bed are laid back on one corner making it easier to slide back between the sheets. I sit here, one leg curled beneath me, the other hanging over the side of the bed and the laptop at the junction of my lap. The TV is tuned to an episode of House and one ear is tuned to the TV while the other can hear the thunder seeping through the window at my back. The drapes are pulled and the overhead light is on illuminating the room. Usually the overhead light is never on but a lamp on the nightstand sheds a soft glow around the area where I sit. Today I pulled the chain that signals the overhead light beneath the fan to spout harsh light into this room. I had a project to work on that demanded better lightning then the lamp on the nightstand.

Do you realize I have written almost an entire page on a description of where I am sitting, perched on the side of the bed?

I have read a lot of books and what makes them come to life is the descriptive phrases that allow you to envision the scene. Have you ever had to much of a description of such? I find myself sometimes impatient to get past those descriptions and onto the meat of the story. Sometimes too much description causes me to want to skip ahead but I don't. Maybe there is something in the description that, should I not read, will leave a gap in understanding the story to come so I persevere and continue ploughing on. I've often wondered if other readers have felt this or if it's just relative to the disposition of an impatient person.

Maybe it's a condition of burn out; a signal that I may have been reading too much and need to take a break?

I am downloading books into my iPad, planning on doing some reading. I'll be taking note of when I start to zone out on descriptions. It might be that it's just time to put down the book or in this case, the iPad and take that break!

Gadgets and Gizmos

I remember when a standard shift transmission was standard equipment in an automobile. An automatic transmission was something that had to be requested and cost extra, a typewriter weighted 50 lbs and made a soothing click clack sound as the keys struck the paper, and paper was used without being called "hard copy". I look over my shoulder at where I have traveled down the techno path and I never could have imagined that I would get to see all the changes that have happened in my lifetime.

At one point in my life, I wished for my own typewriter. That was out of reach for a child of seven in a house that struggled to raise and feed and cloth those seven children. Years passed and during those years I have owned a manual typewriter then an IBM Selectric and finally into the  world of word processing on a computer.

Tonight I sit propped up on nice thick feather pillows while I download apps for the newest toy I have recently had bestowed upon me. I now have an iPad2. Initially upon receiving this new gadget, I was ambivalent about my need or even a desire to own one.

Slowly over the days and weeks of owning this new toy, I've begun to appreciate some of the things I can do with it. Tonight I downloaded apps. Apps. for play, entertainment and education and apps or 'readers'  to download books to it. I'm excited now about owning this iPad. I am only beginning to realize what capabilities I will have with it and I'm anxious to get started. My take off was slow as I tried to justify this expensive toy. Appreciation is growing and I've only barely begun to delve into it's uses.

My online time is limited now. I barely check into Facebook; I plan on downloading books to that iPad and doing a lot of reading during these hot summer months. Traveling with the husband on long trips, I will always have something to read. Educational apps have been downloaded for Carrie and games for Ted, we will all have iPad time.

From a desk top computer to a laptop and now to a thin sliver the size of a notepad, the iPad is a marvel.

Switching from a desktop to a Laptop took some adjustments on my part. Getting use to the size difference was my nemesis. Imagine going from a laptop to a gadget as thin and lightweight as a pad of paper. I'm going through another adjustment phase. I'm skidding into this small tool of technology. Give me another month and I will be totally comfortable with it and ready for the next invention that will be pushing me farther and farther down that path I've been traveling.

I can barely see the starting line back in the distance. The trip has been a speedy one and I'm looking forward to what is to come.

Movin' On

I totally 'get' that you can't pick your family. I don't understand though, the family unit. Thinking my family was a bit weird only to discover that is not limited to my family only.

A family member that insists on drama, lying and stirring the pot among other family members, I've never understood. I've been told tales about one family member and those tales have been kept secret, whether they were meant to be kept or not. I've had one family member say unkind words about another, and those words stopped right here. I've never been a believer in stirring any pot less it be one on the stove.

Maybe the loner I've always been has insulated me from learning about other people's families. The more I hear the more I'm convinced that "family" ain't all it's cracked up to be. I was of the belief that family stuck together. Pulled together. Was someone you could lean on in the hard times and that would help you when you  needed help and you would offer that same help when they were in need of it.

How could I have been so wrong and how long has it been that this is untrue. Were are grandparents engulfed in the same brews amongst their family members?

I do believe that some families handle the strife and conflict better then others. It's just not spoken about to other family members. I don't remember my grandparents mentioning any thing about their sons and daughters life's. If they disapproved of someone, it was kept to themselves only to be discussed in private.

Privacy seems a thing of the past on family dealings. I always liken this public stirring of the cauldron to The Jerry Springer show. Knowing that those contestants or guests or whatever you want to call them that appeared on that show  were coached to be outlandish helps me not. Watching those shows puzzles me also. Why would anyone want to sit in front of their televisions to watch people yell and scream insults at each other? Is that entertainment or is that a show that makes an audience feel that their lives are at least not THAT bad.

What happens in a family that causes one sibling to turn on another? How could they be raised under one roof and share life experiences as children and become so uncaring as adults? I'm puzzled.  I've seen family members not attend a family function because another member will be there or was at least invited. Sometimes neither of them shows believing that the other one might be there.

How does one justify being mean to another? My avenue I keep open is to ignore. I don't defend myself against accusations. I don't retaliate with ugly untruths or comments. I sneak silently away and ignore. If I am to be condemned without an inquiry as to my side of the story, I immediately know that this persons' opinion of me doesn't matter. Move over so I can move on.

Dinner and I Didn't Cook!

I noticed the small specks on the concrete and stood to watch as more collected. Vaguely I could remember seeing this at an earlier date but it was so long ago I could not recall what it was I was watching today.

Soon all the specks collected and touched and there it was. Moisture. Rain. Wow! It's raining. The temperature has slid from the high 90's to a "I'm almost cool 85 degrees" and I waited for a shiver to shake me from the sudden drop.  My hair surrendered to a fuzzy mass that grew into a large dark brown halo around my head. Soon the air became as full of moisture which we here in the deep south call hugeMIdity.

I popped the trunk lid on the car and reached in to grab my huge blue and white striped umbrella. I wanted to go to Macy's today for their one day sale. The husband couldn't be enticed to go along so amid the falling rain, the windshield wipers whisking away the heavy rainfall, I carefully made my way to the mall.

There is not much on my list of "needs" but I did select two blouses that were priced at 60 percent off. The store had a great number of shoppers walking around with the store bags clutched in their hands though their purchases didn't look to be more then one small item. Retail sales are still suffering though the residents of this town are fortunate that the economic bust side stepped this area. It's a town that caters to the oil industry and though there was a slow down when  deep water drilling was halted, the field is once again bustling with activities.

The husband is in the kitchen happily paying tribute to the stove. This is his area of expertise. He actually enjoys puttering around in there and I happily relinquish the pots and pans, plates, cups and culinary accessories to him. I've broken all records this week by cooking for 4 days consecutively. I need a break! 

I think dinner is ready. I'm like the dog that responds to a fork scraping plates clean. I hear the plates being set down upon the granite counter top and my salivary glands begin secreting. It's time for me to casually wander into the kitchen to inquire "What's for dinner?"

Pour Me Another One Please!

Tilipia fillets, broasted potatoes and brussel sprouts against a white plate, a glass of white wine and dinner was on!

I have been the kitchen drudge for the past week. There is a reason for the madness. The husband has an appointment with a gastroenterologist on August 4th. I think he has a faulty gallbladder. To be one step ahead of the doctor possibility suggesting a low fat diet and then seeing him in a month, I've started that diet now. I will be able to assess his tolerance or lack of such before that appointment and report to the doctor.

I'm not interested in this doctor ordering a bunch of tests to pinpoint his problem. We have already done the Pepsid, Zantac, and Prilosec. Tums and Rolaids and Alka Seltzer eaten by the pound has not helped. I want an ultra sound of the gallbladder after he  swallows a substance that will stimulate the gallbladder to expel bile into the stomach. I know this physician that he is scheduled to see. He doesn't have the best bedside manner but he does have the best reputation in this town for his craft. I didn't think he was taking new patients so I was pleasantly surprised when I called his office and found he schedules two days a week for new ones.

Fish, chicken and lean meats, baked or grilled, I scour the cookbooks (Internet) for new ways to make these more palatable then just putting them in the oven to bake.

Tomorrow I'm taking the day off. I've already warned the husband that he will be responsible for preparing supper and sticking to the game plan on meals.

I'll be reponsible for selecting the wine.

Here I Go Again..

I called the daughter this morning and was invited to visit and use the pool. Everyone was getting dressed or undressed, depending on how you look at shedding clothes and puttin on a suit, and hitting the pool.

"It's too hot." I whined. "I'm stayin inside where the cool air lives."  and that's exactly what I did. I promised myself that since the summers here are always hot and I've been here for 21 yrs., I should have accepted this and planned accordingly. I'm resigned and my plan is to stay indoors. That's what the rest of the world here in the south does. I formally give up. "Uncle!" I'm done fighting it. It's already mid July and that's halfway.

Every morning the husband strolls into the living room on his way to the kitchen to get his first cup of coffee that I have brewed. He says as he passes through "What do you want to do today?" Every morning I reply, "Stay indoors!"  By the time he hears my reply he has a cup of coffee and is heading out the French Doors to the patio for his first smoke of the day. We used to spend a lot more time together in this morning ritual until I gave up smoking. I see no point in both of us sweating out there on the patio. Sometimes I do note the advantages of giving up those cigarettes beyond the health advantages. I still miss the social part of it. I don't miss the heat of summer and the cold of winter while trying to 'enjoy' that smoke.

I've evolved into quite the kitchen drudge lately. It's a nice large kitchen with two a/c vents in the ceiling and recessed lighting keeping those vents company. I could care less about the lighting; it's the vents that have captured my affection. Cool air pours forth and what better place to be doing something? That room is usually my less favorite room in the house but since the temperatures outdoors are so cruel, I've decided to spend some time hovering over the stove.

Right now I have two cookie sheets filled with oatmeal cookies in the oven and two more trays waiting their turn. Oatmeal cookies always remind me of when I was a kid and that's the only cookie mom could make because she always had oatmeal in the house. Oatmeal for breakfast and dessert of it too. I plan on making oatmeal ice cream sandwiches with these cookies so they are baked huge.

1 hr. later:

The cookies are finished and I'm out the door to enjoy our lovely weather of heat, humidity and rain. I'm facing the weather with a positive attitude. I'll have to change my outlook on the summers here since the weather isn't going to change it's behavior.
I'm done.

Hotmailed Not

The title on this post was added after this writing. I'll figure out what it will be when I see where this post takes me.

As usual, my posts take their own direction though usually have a very vague starting point and then let them wind and wander along. Some times I bore myself and those are the posts that rush to the ending so I can escape along with you.

A strange thing happened on my way to the post office. I do believe there is a phisher on my trail if not some worse. I'm not talking snail mail here but ye ole email.

About a week ago, I received an email from a nephew that I knew was in Florida with his mother and family on vacation. Suddenly this nephew who has never ever emailed me was suddenly Mr. Chatty. His emails spouted a few words and always enclosed a hyperlink to follow. I never opened any of those links. I was cautious and even though I know a lot of the people that email "stuff", I remain cautious. I seldom will open a link or download anything anyone sends me if I don't know the web site they are suggestinig.

The strange things about these emails were they were in reply to emails I had send. This nephew was able to reply to email that was never sent to him and on his emails back to me was a list of his friends.

I immediately changed my password. Then I went online to read. Apparently this is happening frequently and there is no cure. The hacker uses your email address to gather your contacts so they can send advertisement links. Curing this problem is impossible. Changing your password is a waste of time. It appears to be harmless but aggravating and some of the ads are of a personal nature.

As of the past two days, I haven't received anything new. Maybe there is a time limit?

I'll worry about this tomorrow. Today I have a goal to attain. I'll discuss that at a later date too! 

So I Go To The Store

Alright, so I'm not a big fan of being the first on the block to chunk down a hunk of money for the new fangled toys on the market. I say let someone else buy em until the manufacturers get the bugs worked out then I'll give em a try.

The husband doesn't share my feelings. He did wait until the second edition of the iPad hit the market before purchasing. He found an excuse to buy one and it was our anniversary that supplied the reason for his purchase. I am now the owner of an iPad. To date, I use an iPhone, have an iPod Touch and now an iPad. The upside of owning products from the Apple Corporation is they all share the same accessories. The charging accessories work on all three of these items so packing becomes much easier and now since the husband and I share the same kind of phone, we can share everything that keeps them glowing.

I just got an iPhone on July 5th. I've been waiting months and months for my upgrade. I didn't opt for the iPhone 4 but got the previous model, the 3G S. The need for faster downloading of web stuff and the other upgraded things it offered didn't entice me to spend the extra money on it. I don't plan on doing much surfing on that small screen. Of course I had to pay for a data plan on it and then add the texting feature and keep the charging cord close. One of the weak points of this phone is it's ability to carry a charge for a good length of time should you be one that talks on it much. I keep the thing in an iHome when I'm not out running around and during those times I keep the charging cord close. Of course I had to have an Otter Box for that phone. Once dropped without the protection of an Otter Box, the next place you will be dropping that phone is in a trash receptacle. An Otter Box is 50.00 unless you order one from Amazon which is what I did. Now I await the delivery of that protection. I carry that phone in an armband holder and nervously use it over soft floors should it slip through my hands and shatter on the tile floors here. I'm busy protecting all these delicate screens.

 I'm captured. A captive of tender screens,  cords, cables, phones and computers. I used to be able to grab my purse and car keys, a struggle sometimes to find those keys, and leap into my car and leave the house. Now? The car keys are kept on a unattractive piece of metal carbiners loop though a metal strap holder on the outside of my purse. I have to find the cell phone..and make sure I have the cords to charge it and grab the iPad should I feel the need to tag into the umbilical Internet. The iPod Touch is scooped up to belch out music on my trip. What? I forgot the suitcase? Is it any wonder?

There is too much stuff in my life and they all need to be plugged in.

The iPad had to be exchanged. It appears it had a faulty charging dock so back to the store we went this past Sunday. There wasn't any in stock in the store. There never is. If you aren't there when the shipment arrives, you will not own an iPad. Within 30 minutes of them arriving, they are all sold out and waiting on the next shipment. Apparently these shipments are random and the store isn't notified from Apple Corp. when they will be shipping. The advice they gave me along with the store credit of 647.00 was to call often to catch a shipment. "No, we can't reserve one for you. It's not allowed." says the young lady as she hands me that store credit. Now this store has my money, no cash refund and they won't hold an iPad for me when they get their next shipment. They will hold one for me for one hour if I call them and they should have received a shipment which they won't know the date of said shipment. This was Sunday.

Yesterday (Monday) I wait until 0900 and call the store. I explain to the salesperson the reason for this call  and he says "We have one left."

They had received a shipment and already sold out? He said he could hold this one for 1 hr. Ripping off my pajamas and hauling on a pair of shorts and t-shirt, I grabbed my purse fumbling for the keys on the carbiners ring and yelling at the husband "Gone to Best Buy..the iPad is in!" I raced for the car.

I remember when Apple Corp. stocks were at twenty some dollars per share. Now at 227.00 per share, that boat left the docks without me.

A Menu

Metaphors. Ya hear em all the time. My friend( we shall call her Nancy),  is a walking talking metaphor spouting female. Sometimes I'm left behind in conversation with her as I try to decipher what she is really trying to tell me. It's an all day work out just keeping full stride in her stories. I continue to work on it. Just the other day we rekindled a conversation we started a year ago.  It went something like this and she thought I was all caught up now on a mutual friend who will be known as "the side dish". I'm still digesting, regurgitating and chewing again. I'm relaying this story.


 Married and settled into his family, he awoke each morning and prepared for his day. He blew a kiss to his wife over the  tops of the varying heights of heads surrounding the table. It was his responsibility to provide the financial support.
 His was a job he enjoyed, while hers was care of their children which she enjoyed most of the time. Neither could agree on who had the most stressful assignment. He battled corporate giants while she nurtured those future giants. Both jobs required skill in negotiations and treading a mine field of egos.

Time marches on and  changes dipped and swirled around their lives. The children grew, quickly, it seemed to him and not so quickly to her. The usual battles with his job and hers as they both navigated the paths of their lives,  intersecting at 1700 hrs and on the weekends.

His family was the most important thing in his life. His dedicated and loving wife, a stalwart pillar of support to him all these long years, she remained the key stone of the family.

By accident a side dish nudged into the stream of their lives   and shared the water with them. Unknown to the wife, this side dish bobbed along on the fringes of this family until one day, she made a decision. Bobbing along was not in her nature. Being a side dish wasn't either.

My friend watched from a distance without judgement. Not one to cast the first stone, Nancy was busy bobbing down her own stream. Occasionally the side dish would appear at her doorstep and entering the house and over a cup of coffee, she would entertain my friend with the stream she was navigating at the moment. My friend noted the changes in her each time she visited. The side dish's  attention was beginning to wan, her interests directed into unexplored areas. This side dish would allow a small amount of distraction into her life for a short time, but knowing her as Nancy did, her boat would right itself and she would sail on alone.

Time again sprang forward some 10 years and again the side dish and Nancy crossed paths or maybe I should say "streams" and she was no longer a side dish.

Nancy flashed back to the last time they had talked and discreetly decided to not initiate a conversation on side dishes. Lesson learned, she doesn't repeat the same mistake twice. She was the entree now and enjoying her life tremendously. Being a salad can't compare to being the entree but being a side dish is totally unacceptable. Her metaphor, not mine.

Lunch anyone?

Rewrites ( a post left unpublished until today)

(I was clearing out some drafts that have never been published and thought today might be an appropriate time to trash this or publish it...here goes! written on 4/15/2011)


"I've hired someone to rewrite. Someone that will visit and sign in and organize and rewrite my words and clean up the sentence and structure, thoughts and paragraphs. Maybe "hired" isn't the correct term to use. It's being done for free." she grins as she relates this to me.

Listening intently, I reply "Hey, if it's for free and it makes you feel better to have someone rearrange it, then go for it." I've noticed that the person rewriting has interjected her own views and that's when it becomes a lie and when I no longer tune in to that blog. Rearranging and proofing it is not the same as letting another hijack it.

"It's just that I must have slept through English class" she says. I'm embarrassed after reading other blogs and how I can't word mine in an order that doesn't embarrass me. I've told her to clean it up and to verbalize it to make it coherent and sensible and that's what she does. I write it and she comes in later and signs in to rewrite it. It's a bit of a cheat but hey, who's to know?" she looks away as she says this and I always speculate that when one loses eye contact with who they are talking too I might have a difficult time believing what they say but I nod and smile and wonder at how insecure this person must be. Sometimes you just have to let it slide. It's not important in the grand scheme of life that one person justifies what they do. When it becomes too much for me to deal with, I'll quietly fade out of the picture and move away and wonder if this one lie is the only falsehood they tell.

Being lied to has always been something intolerable to me. You will have to tell them to someone else as I would prefer to not be in your life if you feel you have to lie to me. Maybe everyone does it. Maybe I do it too? I try really hard to not be that sort of person.  I don't want to spend my time with the anxiety it must produce to always have to worry about covering up. I'll take my dose of medicine for whatever I've done and move on. Lying is just not in my nature and on that note, I can't tolerate it in others.

I've seen people create elaborate hoaxes in an effort to sustain a lie they have told. I wonder at how much time and concentration it must take. When  those "stories" don't gel with what is currently being reported by them, I have to wonder why they didn't jot down the "stories" so they could refer back and at least make them interface seamlessly. That might seem like a lot of effort but then being exposed as a fool and a liar should justify the extra work.

The "story" teller assumes the audience doesn't remember what they were told previously and that is where that person makes the biggest error in judgement. As in the rewrites, the writers assume the reader doesn't notice the changes.

I know when it's time for me to bow out of a relationship with that person. When the lying causes me to squirm and not be able to make appropriate retorts, it's time for me to move along. I'm embarrassed for the liar. I'm uncomfortable and I'm gone!

And on that note..I am gone. It's time for a shower and it's time for me to get out of this house for a while.

I'm bringing the Landcrusier home today. I'll decide what to do with it afterwards.

Verdict is IN

Errands to run and a new phone to purchase and to become acquainted with and then back to the house to put the roast in the oven, I was having a busy morning. The telephone rings and my online pal in Florida is calling to tell me to turn on the TV, the one I've left in the off position all day.

I've spent entirely too many days watching the closing arguments of the Casey Anthony trial. I just needed a break and today was that break. The roast is simmering in the oven emitting the smells of garlic and onions while the potatoes are waiting to be wrapped in foil and join the roast.

"The verdict is in!" she breathed and I moved to the remote control on the kitchen counter to hit the "ON" button. It would be 45 minutes before the jury returned to the courtroom with their decision.

I paced around the house doing meaningless chores while I waited. I moved with the sweeper over the living room rug, Windex  sprayed on the glass topped tables while I let my mind run over the trial again and the stories told.
Soon it was time and the jury returned. I sat here on my sofa, barely breathing. I watched Casey stand for her fate. My heart was pounding and I can only imagine what it must have been like for her. Could I have managed to stand on my own two feet waiting and waiting.

Finally the judgement was read. Shocked to silence, I sat and watched Casey's face as the tears of relief came. NOT guilty of all major charges.

My thoughts now go to every child in this country whose mothers decide they are not wanted. I shudder to think about their futures and the punishment of those parents that find their children a hindrance to a lifestyle denied. Be afraid little children. Your death may go unpunished.

And so goes our justice system. Did Caylee get justice?

Celluar Connected *

Isn't it the way of things? The husband left the rig yesterday to make room for new workers arriving on the rig, only to arrive at his hotel room and have a huge storm follow him there. The last time I talked to him he was sitting in a darkened room sans TV, A/C and any interaction with the outside world except for his cell phone. I asked if it was hot in his room. The temperatures plummeted from 108 to mid '60's so he wasn't uncomfortable, just unconnected.

I'm expecting a phone call after he visits the rig this morning to bill his client. He is packed and will head home from the rig location. 500 miles to drive; I'm not worried about racing around and doing the usual "roll up the water hose" that I, like a kid with their parents out of town, leave laid out across the lawn. I dislike rolling the thing up when I know it will have to be unrolled the next day to give the flowers a dousing.

Another issue is his desk. Ok, so I stack a bit of clean laundry on it when the cat is out of town. I also clean it off before the cat gets back. This mouse knows how to play this game. Isn't it strange the little idiosyncrasies that irritate? Since I know these things and work toward not exposing them to him when he is home, he doesn't leave the toilet seat up or put out his cigarettes in my flower pots. Fair trade don't ya think?

It's work to make a relationship succeed. I'm doing my part.

Should you talk to him, I'm about positive that he might list a few other things. He doesn't mention them and I don't ask. I hate to be nagged; he feels the same. Some things ya fix, while some things you deal with. You pick your battles. I have few to complain about and for this I'm grateful.

Today I get my iPhone...I think. I have had a revolving run of cell phones lately and have not been really happy with any of them. The newest one is a red slider that really isn't bad. To be used until my upgrade was due, today is the day. I'm hauling myself to the AT&T store and hopefully picking up an iPhone. Before I start using it, I will order an Otter Box and slip that phone into it. Dropping an iPhone without some protection will crack the screen. My new iPod was placed in it's own Otter Box as soon as I received it. Soon all my devices I carry will be a product of Apple and the accessories to charge them will be one. I won't have to carry around different chargers for these things. Yeah Apple!

The jury is still out. Everyone knows which jury I'm making reference too. I won't hang around waiting for the verdict to come back. I'll catch it on the reruns. I'm off to the shower and then to hopefully get that iPhone!

It's Your Turn Kaylee

31 days of trial with your mother facing the jury and her accusers. 31 days, the amount of days you were missing before anyone was notified.

Today the closing arguments are delivered. I sat and watched and listened to the prosecutor tell the full story from beginning to end. I want to turn away from this. I'm full. I haven't stayed in front of the television these past 5 weeks though it's difficult to escape hearing about it. I haven't tried to escape from it as well as I haven't tried to watch it all.

The talking heads are on it every day. Another day gone and rebuttal from the prosecution today. Finally the case has been delivered to the jury for a verdict. Again, I'll be hoping for a swift decision. Let the jury decide and we will accept and move on. It's time.

The husband returns tomorrow evening. I've been an oilfield widow for the past month. Today I bought a small refrigerator for the patio and filled it with his favorite beers and cranked it up. He can now sit on a comfy chair on the patio, enjoy his smoke, sip a beer from that fridge  and watch his favorite news show. Carrie has a few Popsicles and some of her juices stowed away. After that little bit of shopping, I stayed in the house and since the jury was in deliberation now, the TV was turned off and I slipped away into a nap.

A few hours later, Carrie was at my door and the rest of the afternoon was spent with her. When her mom appeared to pick her up, she arrived with some fireworks so we went to the back yard where we squealed and dodged the unpredictable route they traveled.

Carrie is home. I have my house to myself again and I'm headed for the bedroom. I've enjoyed my quiet day. I'm sure that's finished as Carrie will be calling tomorrow to visit. I still have all the Play Doh which isn't allowed at her house. I would never presume that I was the reason she wants to spend her time here.

I'm done and I'm outta here.

Transformer, Terminator, Smirnanator...

It's Saturday.  It's hot and it's humid and what better thing to do then head for a dark theatre.

Transformer was playing and this has a big advertising budget plus this was the third episode. 3D glasses in hand and a bagful of snacks we climbed to the highest seats in the theatre and settled in. Two and a half hours later and I'm squirming in my seat wanting all the metal monsters to melt down and get out of my face. Ya seen one metal monstrosity, the next one looks much the same. As I watched the hero metal monster, I noted the colors used on him. It appeared as though an  American flag  had exploded all over his 30 ft metal frame. Were the writers  going for a patriotic them on this 4th of July weekend.

 Some of the conversation between the love interests was predictable and trite. I yawned and waited for the credits to roll. This just wasn't my thing. The special effects were impressive but it's like watching male strippers. After seeing each stripper do his thing, I quickly lose interest. It becomes too repetitive for me.

Ted and I escaped back to our respective homes while April and Shane went to Burritos. The clouds were threatening again and I raced the storm to Ted's house where he exited and then continued the race to get to the shelter of my carport rather then pulling over and putting the top up. The thunder boomed and the rain fell and the roadster was safely parked, the top still down. Made it!

82 degrees and humidity so thick you can almost see it hanging in the air. I'm grateful for the A/C unit that never stops humming from the first week of April until the last week in October!

I'm off to take a nap or watch TV and wait on the husband to call. It's 108 degrees where he is and he doesn't always have the option of staying indoors.

A Truly Pointless Posting!

The phone rings and I struggle up from sleep while my hand burrows through the pillows and blankets to find the phone before I miss the call. The eldest brother and eldest sibling is calling. It's been a while since I've talked with him though he tries to call at least once a month. This was his monthly call.

All's well on his home front and as I hit the "off" button on the phone, I'm already swinging my legs off the bed and vaulting to a standing position. That's when I remember the bone spur in the bottom of my left foot. Gingerly the next step is taken and I scour around for the thick sandals I keep  by the bedside.

The foot is less tender and less painful and appears to be improving. I'm trying to wait it out and not have surgery. Ibuprofen is again my BFF.

Instead of the quiet day at home, I called the daughter and we went out to flex our credit cards. We hit a few stores and spent more money on gas then the actual one purchase we made.

The ride home was interesting. The rain finally made it's appearance and along with the rain, hail. Moving through the downpour, conversation was impossible. The sounds from the rain and the hail pinging off the metal of the car left us speechless. It was just easier then screaming over all that noise. I'm not complaining; the rain was welcome.

The remainder of my afternoon has been spent watching the last day of the Casey Anthony trial. Though I find it interesting, I haven't really stayed clued to the TV to watch it. I usually watch the reviews late at night and catch the high points. It's a bit difficult to have to watch the woman that is accused of murdering her baby girl. My mind rejects the thought of what she is accused of doing.

Pen Pals

I'm so excited. I have a fledgling writer that is joining the blog world.
TA DA....heeeeeeeeeeeere's April
Aprils Shower

She can be witty, and sarcastic but usually witty. Do not believe a lot of what she might write about me. I did NOT leave her at that truck stop. That's my story and I'm stickin to it!