Year End Top Ten

Ten things of no significant value that I have compiled into a list, just because I like lists. Do with them what you will.

10- How many fingers I still have. So what if one is just a tad bit shorter?

9-The number of times I mailed myself to Hollywood, California, in care of The Rock.

8- The number of times someone in my family has been in an emergency ward this year. The reasons follow. 1- collar bone 2-wrist 3-foot 4-thing with k2 that was so embarrassing that I promised I would never tell 5-finger 6-dehydration(see number 9 above) 7 and 8-ham string and neck, two family members, inexperienced at leg wrestling

7-Number of family member that either aren't human or are imaginary.

6- Why is six afraid of seven? Seven eight nine!

5-The number of hours spent yesterday trying to erect a winter tent to sleep in.

4-How many times my hubby moved out on me.

3- Number of favorite new swear words I've made up while on Christmas vacation. They are: Grunion Blut, Dill Wad, and Fole. Now go wash your eyes out for reading them.

2-The number of pounds I've lost between Thanksgiving and New Year.

1- The one best present received this year according to my kids, super sized package of toilet paper. It is big enough to sit on and use as a sled on our carpeted stairs. I didn't even have to wrap it.

Happy New Year!

Fill Out the Form

"Ms...Munkay?"
"Yes! That's me!"
"Step into my office, please."
"Yes! Good! I'm so excited to be here."
"You are? That's good. I'm Mr. Stick Opmibutt."
"Mr. Opmibutt, how soon till I get my new life?"
"This is an employment agency."
"Yes, same difference really. New title, new role, new life. How fast can I trade mine in?"
"Umm, lets have a look at your resume you have filled out here...You never bothered to complete it, Ms. Munkay."
"Yes, I had every intention to but my attention deficit kicked in and I was forced to rearrange your office while you made me wait."
"You rearranged my furniture without asking me??"
"Don't forget painting, it needed some color."
"How long where you sitting out there...Did you really..."
"No- no, only in my mind, it looks much better in there now."
"Ummm, mm, ok, so you are an interior designer?"
"Well, no. Doing that actual manual labor bores me but, hey, that's not what I want to do, what else you got for me?"
"Are you currently employed?"
""Yes, I'm ployed."
"Ployed? Ms. Munkay?"
"Yes, I cut things for a living."
"You cut things?"
"Yes. Cut and burn. Chop chop. Sizzle. Way too sterile environment for me really. I want to be someone else awhile."
"What do you want to be?"
"Something more edgy. Thrilling even. And glamorous. Oh bring on the glamour. Glam me up Mr Opmibutt."
"Got any examples then do you?"
"Opera singer. My heart longs for musical drama."
"Are you a trained singer?"
"Oh hell no. But for a good night gig, with a wardrobe and the right makeup.."
"Can you sing at all?"
"And the proper lighting, I even own my own helmet with horns.."
"No! Munkay, you cannot fake true musical talent!"
"Is it the weight thing? It's the weight thing isn't it! I can gain weight you know.."
"Ms, Munkay, please. How about something you have some experience in."
Blank look.
"Any ideas from your past work history?"
"No, I don't want to do any of that. That is why I am here.
"Your resume says your first job was a cabin girl/waitress."
"Yes, I moved out at the age of fourteen to live at a fishing resort for a season."
"How about that? Would you like to do that again? Learn anything you could use now?"
"I made less than minimum wage. The cost of the cabin they rented me and my meals ate up my paltry paycheck. I did learn, however, I could pass as a much older girl out at the resorts and buy alcohol, which I did make a profit off by selling to other minors."
"Ok, well that was a start, but did you learn anything legal."
"Yes! When the feds come, say, " I am only behind the bar here to wash the glasses, I never serve the devil drink.."
"Munkay!"
"Ok ok. Any one touches me and I run get Gary Boggs off the launch..."
"Hermm. Maybe we try a different approach. "What kind of education did you receive?"
"Please, Mr. Opmibutt, I didn't finish filling out your form. Think I would ever finish any graduate plan? My last credit class I pulled an A on, which brought my GPA up to 4.o. Perfect time to quite."
"That's some screwy reasoning there Munkay."
"Works for me. Keeps me number one. In my book."
"What else. What other experience can we draw from? Oh I see here, you once danced for money?"
Blink
"You danced for money, did you?"
Blink Blink
"You made enough to buy a car?"
Stare
"You do have some stage experience then!"
"That was a long time ago. I'm not even sure, if it was me, I mean. It was my evil twin. Really. And it was much more a shake than a dance. And we are only talking about a Toyota..."
"You have any skills that are untapped? Any hidden talents?
"ANCHOR BOLTS!"
"Excuse me?"
"Anchor bolts!! I can set up a theatolight laser beam to check the corordinates of a location. Give me a blue print and a set degree and I can tell you if your building is on the nuts! And I can talk the lingo."
"So you can do survey and layout?"
"I can snap a line and shoot a target You don't want any sky scraper planned on what I tell you, mind, but I can tell you if your footings are off."
"There you go Munkay. Off to the survey company office."
"No. Not so fast. I can't stand still out in the cold Especially without a bathroom. And where is the glamour?"
"What else you got? Talent wise?"
"I'm a killer tetherball player. I can decapitate you if one of my serves."
"Munkay. Get serious."
"Knock your head off from here right now. Boom!"
"Any office skills?"
"I worked in an office for two years!"
"How many works per minute? Can you spread sheet and Word?"
"Oh hell no, I type with two fingers."
"How did you last two years in an office?"
"The boss said I knew how to sit a good lap."
"Your boss was a pervert."
"Yes, that's what I told him when I married him. Too bad he fired me after I redecorated his office so nice.."
"You are married. With children?"
"Yes."
"Then you must have some marketable skills that comes with being a parent, I'd assume?"
"Yes, I can drive a stick, while eating an ice cream cone, and talk on the phone, all at the same time, and still be able to do a reach around slap upside the head as needed. Are you thinking taxi driver? I'm not doing taxiing, unless we go where I want. Thats the standing rule now. That and when I'm behind the wheel, we listen to what I want. Period."
"I'm scared to ask, but do you have any other usable skills or talents?"
"I was an antique dealer for a spell."
"How was that then?"
"Oh the money! If I had all the money I spent on crap, well I could furnish my house with piles money instead of crap."
"Now you are exaggerating are you not?"
"A natzi flag, Mr. Opmibutt. What was I going to do with that?"
"Why would you buy a natzi flag Munkay, I ask, scared even as the words leave my mouth?"
"Well it was an action wasn't it. And there was only a sick skin head bidding on it. I mean yes, I did bid up the price of the helmet and handbook and other junk he was bidding on so he had to pay a racist arm and a leg for it, but I really didn't think he was going to stop bidding so soon on the flag. That was one expensive fire we roasted our mellos over that night I tell you."
"What else you got Munkay?"
"That flower thing?"
"You have worked with flowers?"
"More like I fought flowers."
"Was that a bad pay for view or reality show?"
"Could have been. "The Ferral Florist." I scraped with everyone, everything. Customers, delivery drivers, equiptment. Had a knock down brawl in the shop with my own sister. That bitch thinks she fired me but I quite, I did. But it was those damn roses that almost killed me. Come to find out, alergic I am."
"Thats a negitive when you can't even work well with others. Anything you can do solo?"
"I can hold really hot things in my mouth."
"You can hold..."
"Yes I can. Stuff can be to hot for my fingers up yet there I am able to taste and eat really hot things."
"And so you could be ah..,a.., mini refridgerator..."
"I'm thinking flame eater in the circa solei or blue mans group pehalps."
"Yes, that's it, perfect! Get right on that! Out of my office, out you go.."
"Can you tell me if they got medical insurance?"
"Now that is not the question for me, but for the union, Munkay."
"If I worked only nights, does that qualify as my day job as long as it is full time?"
"Off you go now, don't let my door catch you in the tail on your way out."

Have a knock-out Christmas! Watch out for killer trees. Love Munkay, K1, Spare Kid, and K2.

Running threw the forrest heavily armed with axes and saws we hunt the elusive wild tree to kill in the spirt of Christmas.....

Why is the question you have to ask when looking at this picture. Why does Wolfy have such a peculair expression on his face? Because he just discovered this ancient mooring pin and he is asking himself that very question? Why would anyone put it all the way up here when the water is all the way down there? Plus there is fear and excitment on his face. Who put it here? Explorers? Immigrents? Vikings? How many years of water errosion caused the mooring pin to be this high and the water level now so far down? Who could be srtong enough to drive it into the rock? Then you got to ask yourself why a parent would let their kid rock climb in only a swim suit. And what is in his other hand? I let him climb dressed like that because he thought he could. Not only did he climb but held my car keys in an old film container incase they dropped into the current below. Why did I name this child Wolfy? It is a strong name and it fits him. Not only do I bieleve this kid can climb mountains but move them as well.

One highly unflattering picture of me in Augest Lalli flowers. Beauty of this is not the flowers, or obviously the exasperated look on my face as I am saying, "The middle button. Right there on top. The big one. Just hold it down till it clicks. Can you see me now? Just push it down." Look close in the cooler doors. The magic is my Sis, who will not let her picture be taken, her soul be stolen, took this picture, and caught herself.

If you have seen "Full Metal Jacket", this is my CHarlene. Like the crazy-assed solder, who named his rifle, Charlene is an extension of me and goes everywhere with me. "I don't get mad, I get stabby!"

"What else. what else? So far our list says, ps2 games, a bow, a sterio, hair gel..."

"What the hell is that? You painted the bottom of some trees?" "No, look closer." Oh, a stick covered in snow?" "NO, it is wild pigs." There ARE no wild pigs that live in snow. There are razor back boars, but they live down in Texas where there is no snow." "There are wild pigs in France, they are used for finding truffles. And I bet there is snow there too." "Chocolate hunting French pigs??? I never heard of it!" "Shut up. I painted a family picture that is what this is. There is the Daddy pig on the left, staying behind looking at his two little piggy's run off." "Your crazy woman, paint me a duck." "Get a job in France, bring me back some chocolate."

"If you give a Munkay a loaded Gun....he will get cold and tired and stare at the ground." (My little huntin chimp's name is Gunny.)

Here is the 127.00 per day anti-rejection drug habit I am on. That is the cost after insurance. There is a reason the highest mortality of transplant receipents occur two years after their surgery. Not because their new organ fail, but because their insurance stops paying the exorbited medical costs. I thought it was ironic when I threw my old medica alert emblem into this picture, it landed in the form of a question mark. How long will my new cells continue to live and will they regenterate, or will something happen that I can no longer afford them?

"I LOVE SUMMERRRRR! SPLASH"

What's wrong here?

One Block

One part of one phase of one section of one project my husband built somewhere. You tell me.I just know by the snow it couldn't be any further south than Oklahoma. Could be the Smithsonian out on D.C. Might be a convention center in Green Bay. Or a Radison in Mpls. Or a hospital. Even a shopping mall plaza somewhere in North America.Chances are it is a casino-anywhere. We have a bizillion pictures like this on the computer. In every one there is a mistake a contractor had made in the picture, and hubby documents them away in his job log program files before sending them on to the architect/owners/lawyers. All in all, just another brick er block in the wall.

K2 following K1 with Sis way up there in the lead paddling for our lives. (This river is 90 feet deep in spots, and we have not yet learned to "right" a tiped kayak. Or swim very well for that matter.) Shortly after I took this picture, my arms fell off from exertion, and drifted down to the pacific ocean.

Some northern Minnesota Boondock town. While driving up to visit my brother in the hospital. The boys, so board on the road trip, spotted the Kraft building in the background. I was forced off the road for the love of macaroni and cheese. Who knew noodles would be kept behind a high security gate? Closest we could get was this gas station, where we bought cheese curls instead and vowed to never again eat mac and cheese.

Having my Scottish Highlander Bull swallow my hand while feeding them marshmello's. Guess which wooly beast is me?

Twelve Days of Pictures

For Christmas I thought I'd give you a picture a day of me and my family since I started writting this. (I know there is thirteen days till Christmas, but I gave myself an extra day, in case I happen to run off or anything. Here is my earnest picture.

Paranoid Fishavior

Today found the boys and I in the local sorting goods megashopalis doing some Christmas browsing. Hubby wants new replacement depth finder for his boat. (Long gone are the days of sticking the trusty oar into the water to measure the waters depth.) We were seriously overwhelmed by the array of technical gadgetry devised to find aqua marine live. Contraptions to tell us water temperature, clarity, movement, time of day, bottom conditions and GPA. We were all suffering from too much technical information overload to make up our minds. That is, until K2 found the fish shaped camera that extends under the side of the boat to actually see the fish underwater on a screen that you mount on your boats council. Much fun was had as the boys and I tried our best fish impersonations for the camera with the attached display screen. The salesman didn't find it nearly so funny when we shoed us away from his pricey fish parafinallia. It was at the check out counter, ware we were buying a simple red and white lure, that K2 looked up and spotted the security camera trained on us. "Mom! What if fish are spying on us!!"
I think he's onto something.

Dancing With Jack Raw

Frost's finger up my ass
bladder trembles threatens to shatter
winter sucks cold shit popsicles

Spark for Hire

I get up in the eveningand I ain't got nothing to sayI come home in the morningI go to bed feeling the same wayI ain't nothing but tiredMan I'm just tired and bored with myselfHey there baby, I could use just a little help

Yes, I remember the very first fire I started. It was such a long long time ago...

You can't start a fireYou can't start a fire without a sparkThis gun's for hireeven if we're just dancing in the dark

"Mom! C'm on Mom! I'm hungry. Let me try". All I wanted was a roasted hot dog. I had it all planned out in my four year old mind. It was the dead of winter and there was a fire crackling in our kitchen's woodburner. I had the hot dog, and a piece of Lincoln Log for a stick. Mum was definite in her no's. Made that morsel of chard meat all the more desirable. "You will burn the house down", was her finale answer. I just waited patiently until she bundled up in her winter clothes to do the out side chores and get the mail. That was an easy if not frightening fire to dispose of. I just threw the flaming toy into the round hole in the stove and covered the evidence with the heavy metal lid. And continued to whine with hunger until dinner.

Message keeps getting clearerradio's on and I'm moving 'round the placeI check my look in the mirrorI wanna change my clothes, my hair, my faceMan I ain't getting nowhereI'm just living in a dump like thisThere's something happening somewherebaby I just know that there is

The next fire was a little larger, I think, although I never really seen it. There we were, in our ninth grade home economics class. It was the last class of the day, right before the Christmas holidays were to begin. My kitchen partners and I had decided to make home made caramel as our final big project. Sherry, Elaine, Mark and I had never made it before, but Sherry had seen it done, so she was in charge. I remember her voice, "Stir! Stir! Stir!", like a rowing cadence she urged. She stressed the importance of stirring the concoction so not to scorch the bottom. We had taken turns stirring for an hour and it still wasn't candy yet. We had no idea it would take us so long to make caramel. As the finale bell of the day approached we formulated our plan. Once the bell rang, my partners would all leave the class to gather their coats and books before boarding the busses. Our lockers were on the third floor. Smiley Nelsons home ec class being on the second floor, I would stay and stir, while the others bring me my things so our caramel could continue to cook the additional fifteen minutes before the busses departed. The bell sounded, and all the students flooded out of the classroom, except myself. Smiley Nelson, our teacher, always snuck out early to have a smoke in the teachers lounge and talk with her husband the guidance counselor, before coming back to lock up her empty classroom. Elaine and Sherry returned with my coat and books, but Mark, who lived in town, and was to stay until the caramel thickened into candy, had ditched us. "Mark said he has curling after school, but he would get Smiley to finish." When we peeked out the classroom door, there was Smiley headed in our direction. I left that wooden spoon right were it was in that bubbling hot syrup and dashed off to my waiting bus without a backwards glance. When we came back from break, the stove was no longer there and the counter next to it had dark brown marks in the disfigured laminate. Smiley, would not explain, for fear of self inditement, what had happened.

You can't start a fireyou can't start a fire without a sparkThis gun's for hireeven if we're just dancing in the dark

Granted, at every kegger there is a bonfire, it's a given. And at Clemenston, we had some doozies. They lasted all night. If someone didn't get lost, or fall in the rapids, it was considered tame. We had partied by the river until the cops showed up, then about twenty or so cars of partyers moved it to the bait store. Another bonfire was light outside, but it was getting cold, that Friday before deer hunting season, so the party was moved inside. I was enjoying *Gonzo's impression of Billy Idol using a pool stick as microphone, and was sad when him and **Fry had to leave at around 3:am to be ready for hunting. Watching the two of them climb into Fry's old low ridding thunderbird, I came up with an idea. Before their car turned on to the highway, I ran out the store and waved them back to where I was standing. Unable to make a u-turn, they simply backed all the way up to where I was. I just happened to be standing near the earlier bon fire, that I assumed to be out, had blazed. "Hey Gonzo! I bet you my "Rebel Yell" tape you don't get a deer at sun up", was my parting wager.
I never did rub it into Gonzo that his opening hunt was unsuccessful. Seams as he and Fry had driven straight to their hunting destination, to catch a few hours of sleep before sun rise and opening hunting. Unfortunately it was not day break that woke them from their drunken slumber, but the sound of shots from their own trunk. Having driven over the embers of the bonfire had caused the underneath of their thunderbird to catch fire, discharging the rifle shells stored in their trunk.


You sit around getting olderthere's a joke here somewhere and it's on meI'll shake this world off my shoulderscome on baby this laugh's on me

The fire in Carrie's basement apartment was by far the scaryest yet for me. We had been up late the night before trying to impress some baser guys. Carrie, being an excellent cook, and me, who literally couldn't even boil water at that time. Carrie had made Asian food. Chow mein and homemade egg rolls. The food had been much better than our company. I just remember the next morning, walking past Carrie, who had just light a cigarette and plunked down on the sofa in front of her soap opera. I went into the kitchen and turned the gas on under her tea kettle. It was when we seen the reflection of flames shooting out of her oil filled wok, on the T.V. screen, that I realized I had lit the burner under her wok instead of the tea kettle by mistake. Squealing, we both rushed into the tiny u shaped kitchen and started pulling open cupboard doors to find either a lid big enough to cover the wok, or some flour to put out the flaming oil. We found neither in our hast. So I grabbed up the wok and planned on running it outside. As I picked it up, and swung around holding it as far away from my body as possible, I set the cotton dish towels and their holders on fire that hung on the cabinet doors. Then the paper towel holder. And the message pad. And the spice wreath. The whole kitchen was fast becoming engulfed. I knew I would not make it out the door and up the stairs, so when I started heading for the sink. Carrie hit me with a phone book to keep me from running water into it and splattering more fire. I had no plans on doing anything so stupid tho, I simply poured the flaming oil down the drain. Thank God for metal pipes. And sugar, that will work almost as good as flour, but leaves an odd smell. Carrie had to light a new cigarette after that, as we were still shaking as we went back to watch "Days of Our Lives."

Stay on the streets of this townand they'll be carving you up alrightThey say you gotta stay hungryhey baby I'm just about starving tonightI'm dying for some actionI'm sick of sitting 'round here trying to write this bookI need a love reactioncome on now baby gimme just one look

That implosion in the microwave that happened in class down in Austin, well there just should of been something in the syllabus about fires. And I swear that Iranian dude had more to do with it than he can admit.

You can't start a fire sitting round crying over a broken heartThis gun's for hireEven if we'rejust dancing in the darkYou can't start a fire worrying bout your little world falling apartThis guns for hireEven if we're just dancing in the darkEven if we are just dancing in the darkEven if we are just dancing in the darkEven if we are just dancing in the darkHey Baby

Sure, create a dessert called a flaming monastery and some fire is bound to happen.
Red wine reduction sauce, something that needs to boil down to almost nothing and includes alcohal, is just begging for trouble.
But put a grill next to a stack of terry cloth potholders, and come one. Yes the alarms will go off and all the doors will lock and the code orange will blare across the loudspeakers. I know I have a leeway of fifteen seconds to dump the flaming material into the industrial sized trash and contain it in the sensor free freeze. Not that I have, mind you.
***It was dark and the middle of the night as I danced when my house burned to the ground. Hey Baby.


*Gonzo so named after numous hockey accidents that left his nose headed in many diferent directions all at the same time.
**Fry so burned out by partying he was known as just plain Fry.
***I was three hours away. I have witnesses. Ask Clarence.

Dancing With Jack

The winters solace has begun
frost's stinging kisses cause my stiff minuet
snow blind by his touch

My First Meal

Somewhat similar to a death row prisoner planning his last meal, I planed what I would eat as my first repast after my transplant. I had enough time to think of it. I had thirty plus years as an insulin dependent diabetic and eleven and a half months on the waiting list waiting for my pager to sound alerting me that a donor had been found.

Of course I had eaten sugary foods in the interim. When I was human, and ate like I was a normal person, I could never truly enjoy what ever guilt ridden goody I was sneaking. And the after math of being nauseous and tired sucked the joy right out of eating it.

There were times, when my blood sugar was to low, that I had to eat sweets. But it was hard to savor or enjoy any decadence when hypoglycemic. A big glass of orange juice laced with extra sugar was the old stand by staple when my blood sugar bottomed out, and I could no longer function enough to chew. The times I would slip into a diabetic shock, often in the middle of the night, I would return to conscious on my bedroom floor soaked in the sugar thicken juice. My husband just didn't have it in him to inject me with the emergency glycogen shot which would enable my body to release it's own sugar stored in my liver to save my life. Instead, he pour the juice, sometimes by the tablespoon in my mouth. Most of it would land on my neck and in my hair if I was in a grand mal seizure. I was always frightened I would choke to death or drown instead of dyeing of insulin overdose. As much and often as I told him I felt nothing at that point, he could just not poke me with a needle. I, on the other hand just couldn't drink orange juice anymore.

When I realized I would be able to eat normal for the first time in my life, I started making lists. I wanted Snickers bars. Then I changed it to ice cream sundays with brownies. Carmel popcorn. Then I wanted all the wonderful deserts my Mum had to stop baking once I was diagnosed. Strawberry Fluff. Poppy Seed Cake. Wild blueberry pie. All good. I wanted them all. My top choice changed daily. It was boggling for me, I just couldn't make up my mind.

At about month eleven, four week before they were going to take me off the waiting list, I finally had my answer of the one supreme taboo victual. I wanted a tall glass of orange juice, no added sugar.

Unfortunately, after my procedure, I felt so bad, I never wanted to eat again. My dinner tray would come and the nurses would try coaxing me to eat. "Come on Munkay, you gotta eat. You need to feed your new cells." For the first two days, I sent my trays back untouched.

Once I stared to come around and was able to look at the food, I realized I was on an even stricter diet that before. I was well versed in the carb counting and exchange meal plans, but now I was low glycemic diet as well. Good by potatoes, breads and rice. When they brought me chocolate ice cream, I thought it was a cruel joke? "Was this a mistake? There's ice cream on here?"

It's ok now. I will always watch what I eat, as not to tax and overload my new cells. I can eat a piece of cheese cake with less negative consequences than a rice ball. I still can't choke down orange juice, spiked with added guilt or not. Oh well.

24 with Munkay

Sunday, November 28, 2005

Somewhere between 5:51 and 6:07 a.m.
My Bed

"GET OFF ME DAMN YOU." Let me sleep. Wait what time is it? Do I have to be awake yet? No. Not yet. I need to remember to lock my bedroom door so that @!$% cat can't get in.

Somewhere between 7:01 and 7:04 a.m.
Standing in my kitchen watching my cup of tea spin in the microwave over my range top. Hair up in a Pebbles pony tail on top of my head. Dressed in purple smiling piggy jammies. Thinking.

Man, trick jumping Hubbys company truck with the boat on the trailer while Collin Powell rode shot gun seemed so real. Wonder why we wanted to get into that castle so bad. How did we know there was corned beef inside?

Somewhere between 7:49 and 8:10 a.m.
Sitting at my computer, cross legged, still in purple pj's with smiling pigs. Trying not to laugh out loud to wake up family, or make any noise for that matter.

Wishing my teacup was bigger. Then I wouldn't need to stop to go all the way back into the kitchen. Tea thermos, that's what I need. And a diaper.

In between 9:00 and 9:20 a.m.
Standing in front of bathroom mirror. Counter a mess, clothes on the floor.

"Hairrrrrarugh! Just do what I want." I should shave my head. Yes, when I have more time I'm gonna shave this head. Then will I have to polish my scalp every day instead? And shave too? Will I have to use makeup on my shaven scalp to cover any zits and razor burn? Now in bad funk quandary.

Between 10:00 and 10:01
Standing in my laundry room picking metal b-b's out of the bottom of the washing machine while singing the lyrics to White Stripes, "My Door Bell". Thinking.

It's 9:00 good. No it's 10:00 No, 10:00 Rats, I have thirty minutes till go time.

Somewhere between 10:50 and 11:05
Highway 8 heading west.

"What the hell? Why is every one honking at me? When will they be done with this road construction already? Shit! When did they close this lane? Ya ya honk all you want there back hoe boy I'm not going any farther. Want to play chicken huh? Huh? I'm turning . I'm turning."

Somewhere between 11:49 and 12:01
Between the kitchen and dining room.

"Hey Quint!" Get out of my way you fat ass. "Tonight is prime rib and walleye." Move. You would be faster to jump over than walk around. "You fix the oven yet? I need ovens for prime rib. Why do I never see a tool in this maintenance man's hand. "Sure. Must be rough pulling a double." Never seen him carry a tool once. "Grab the door for me there will ya?" (Yes this is all I remember of the conversation as Quint is not much of a conversationalist. Yeah he likes to talk but all I hear is bla- bla- bla.)

Between 1:01 and 1:2o
In the dining room after lunch for our guests is over.

I'm soo gonna eat. I'm going to eat for the rest of the afternoon. Food foody food food. I love food. Asparagus is my favorite food in the world. No wait. I love this salad. Best thing I've ever tasted. No the asparagus with the salad. "HI Will! Of course you can sit and eat with me." Darn now I can not eat like the pig I really am. "I didn't know you were here this weekend!" Do I have anything on my face? "Yeah that's what I think about the new building too." Oh I'm just a stupid parrot. "Ha-ha-ha! Oh Will!" Crap, did he see that fly out of my mouth? "Tell me about your big weekend then?" Look at that hair will you. I would love to run my fingers through that hair of his. I'd even wash the French dressing off my hands first.

Somewhere between 2:04 and and 2:13
Standing in the kitchen chopping and talking to Carl the morning chef

"No, my friends parents invented their own turtle broom and they patented it and made enough to set themselves up comfortable so now they are working on a much bigger environmentally friendly way of life to improve the welfare of every one. It was a goal that some would of just retired on but they had a bigger picture in mind. No way. Your friend invented a self cleaning one hitter? Really? That make the Q-tip and pipe cleaner industry upset? What did he buy with his money, more drugs? A pimp car? Ha- ha ha."

Between 2:55 and 3:03
Cornered by the coffee machine. Talking to a guest.

"Let me get this straight. No orange vegetables. No flour. No red meat. Except after you train, then late. Fat free dairy. No MSG, unless it is spicy. Anything else?" Hope you like the taste of spit.

3:56 and 4:07
In the freezer. To myself again.

Swollen? Ooh. I wonder if I should see a Dr? Damn. Oww. Maybe a chiropractor. Damn trigger finger. I need a hook.

Somewhere between 4:59 and 5:09
Looking off the deck towards the sunset.

"Wow Chris ! You are right!That is beautiful. I've never seen one this time of year either. What caused that? Lake effect? OK, I gotta go back to frying the crunchy unknowns now."

Between 6:00 and 6:03
By the carving station. (I cannot disclose whom this was with.)

"Jim Morrison huh? Are you sure that is not just a legend? I mean he is Jim Morrison. I would go for him over the othersmyself. Even if he was just a gherkin. No that doesn't make you gay. I don't think. I mean he is Jim Morrison."

Between 7:59 and 7:10
In the hallway by the dry storage room. Talking to Chris.

"No you need to double bag the bodies before you throw them on the cart and haul them out to the dumptster. They moved the dumpster cuze of the new buildings so you need to take more precautions now."

Between 8:00 and 8:25
Walking up my porch steps.

Just open the door and stand here for a minuet or two. That way who ever is hiding behind the door will get sick of waiting for me and pop out and I can scare them. "Helloo? Boys! I'm home! Walking into a quiet house. I walk throw the kitchen to hang up my jacket in the laundry room and,"BOOGIE-BOOGIE MOM!!!!!!" They waited to jump out at my from the laundry room. I had thought they were upstairs. The coat that was flung in surprise and never did get hung up.

9:00 and 9:23
My living room floor.

Leg wrestling with K1 and K2 to see who would get the the last of the Hagen Daaz. K2 is a cheat and an ice cream oinker.

Between 9:50 and 10:10
Reading "The Di Vinci Code" and talking to Hubby while eating nachos made with jalapino pepper cheese. Curled up in the leather chair.

"Ya interesting but far from real. Based on some brilliant stuff. Des Moines? How soon? Let me guess. Another casino?"

Between 11:07 and I dunno.
My bed. Thinking.

This feels soo good. I've been waiting all day for this. Wish I could make this feeling last longer. I'm gonna stay awake just to enjoy this warm soft...zzzzzzz....

Majorie Rebarcheck is Coming for Dinner

The cranberry salad was always on the table on Thanksgiving without exception. That was our tradition. Mom got the recipe for it from our neighbor, Marjorie Rebarcheck.

Marjorie, like my mom was a stay at home farm wife. I do not remember Majorie ever having time to visit our house, the Rebarchecks ran a dairy farm and work was plenty and spare time short. Their five girls were all older than I, but I delighted in playing in their big barn with the numerous cats when we bought milk from them. Every year one of the girls would bring over a cake on my birthday. Marjorie, quite a wonderful cook, never forgot and always made the time to bake me a cake. My birthday being in January, my cake would always arrive frozen solid from the quarter mile hike between farms.

Marjories salad for our tame palate was edgy. That's why we loved it.

The salad officially became The Majorie Rebarcheck Cranberry Salad, the year my mom submited her friends recipe to be published in the community cookbook. Mom waited for the book to be published before taking Majorie a copy of the book. Majorie now had more time for visiting with as she was sick and dying of cancer.

Marjorie smiled at mom and said,"Mm, looks like a good recipe. I'll have to try it some time."

Mom had imortilized her friend for something she had never made.


Majorie Rebarcheck Salad

1 can jellied cranberry sauce
1 Tablespoon lemon juice
1 3 ounce package cream cheese, softened
3/4 cup salad dressing
1/4 powdered sugar
1 teaspoon grated orange peel
1/2 walnuts chopped
1 cup whipped cream

In a food processor mix cranberry jelly with lemon juice. Pour into jello mold. Combine cream cheese, salad dressing, sugar, orange peel, and nuts. Fold in whipped cream. Pour this layer into cranberry mixture and freeze. Let stand 10 minutes before unmolding.

Happy THanksgiving.

Petroglyphs Under My Bed

The morning light that pours through the window on my left illuminate the canvas as The Killers crone softly anti-militarism sentiment while I work. Mixing the oils are the most satisfying detail in my project. When I achieve the exact shade of French ultramarine blue, my canvas will welcome its color graciously. This is my time. The house has not yet awoken, and I am alone in my pajamas.

I hear his tread on the stairs and stiffen. I do not look forward to his interruption and wish I had packed up my supplies and finished for the day already. But it is too late now. I automatically invert to my defensive mode and my hard shell goes up to protect me from his immanent jabs. I am sorry, the blue had been such a vibrant hue.

"Good morning. What are you doing up already?"
"Morning. I'm painting."
"I thought you put all that away."
"I had. But now it is time to paint again."
"Ugh."

The edge of my brush swipes the cadium barium red. It is such a strong color it instantly evolves my palate into mud. I have to start again.

"I made coffee . It's over on the counter."
"See now why can't you stick with cooking. Something practical that you are good at. Then I'd be eating a full breakfast right now."
"This IS practical."

I have a wild boars in my bathroom.

"How is that practical?"
"I like doing it."
"What is it anyway?"
"It's my idea of a kind of Vassy Kandinsky."
"Sure. What's that then? Polish for a mess?"
"No, Kandinsky was a modernism impressionist. Quite famous. Modern being up to the 1940's that is."

He dribbles the hot coffee from his cup down my back as he stands behind me unaware of his actions. No matter how much I mix, I cannot get my blue shade back right.

"He was famous for a bunch of eyes then, was he?"
"If you see eyes, then you are paranoid. Or just need watching yourself."
"You call that art, crazy girl?"

There are blueberrys in our unfinished sauna.

"You planning on hanging that in here? Your not going to hang that in here are you?"
I hear the anxiety in his voice. Has an cardium barium orange tinge to it.

"No. It is a gift. A housewarming present for my Sis. Practical art."

"Good. I wouldn't want to go to all the work of bringing in my elk head from the polebarn again." I can tell he is glad to have dodged this oil bullet.

When he is mad at me, the big old ugly stinky deer head comes in the house and is hung on the wall. I accidentally dip my brush into my own tea cup to clean, instead of the turpentine, and give up on my thoughts of blue. With a new brush, I pick up my viridian green. and paint straight from the tube. My sister will like it. Green is her favorite color.

"You know, if you want to paint something, why not a dog? My dog Clyde would make a pretty picture."

The Vikings that hang over our mantel is the only painting he likes and will let me display. The focal point in the picture is the worrier that I made resemble him.

"If you want to see more Clyde, just look down."
"He would make a great picture. Hang a dead duck in his mouth..."

There are northern lights in my grandmothers immigrant trunk.

"Yuck. Might was well take snap shots of road kill."
"I would hang a picture of Clyde over my desk in my office."

I once told my girlfriend he is my worst critique to my face but he brags of my so called ability to our friends. "It's better than him lying to your face and talking trash behind your back", she told me. She was dead on.

"Or paint one of our cows. Imortilize Wooly Bully on canvas long after we have eaten his last hamburger."

There is a male torso behind my Christmas dress in the closet.

"Why don't you go out and feed Wooly Bully right now before I decide to paint your ass a nice black and blue?"
"Good thing you have two hands there Munkay, cuse if you had to paint with your brush in that filthy mouth..."
"I'd be painting dead animals."

"You want me to make a pretty frame for that? I have some great weathered barnboards I could knock out a really nice frame with?"

"Barnboards are too early American to fit with modernism. No. But thanks."
"Ok then. I'll make the frame and you paint the cows playing poker."

Warm zinc yellow is hard to get out of hair. But it's a nice happy color.

Back By Three

sorry if I was bogarting your memory today
I just needed a little fun
cuse me if I stole you away
I yearn for time redone
dance with me one more song
oh yeah come on lets dance
the music plays just for us again
do it while we have the chance
I feel the beat and you next to me
the party's just begun
summer's replaced the winter
we are enjoying our time in the sun
green grass carpets our oyster world
our laughter the only sound
give me five minutes more
before I come around
twilight has fallen
the crickets and my heart began to sing
the stars appearing on our horizon
you were my everything
this is how I remember you
you lift me when I'm blue
I'll leave you now
like I did so long ago
but I'll visit now and then

Todd the boy I fell in love with in the second grade and the man I love today .

All Todd's referred to are fictional unless stated otherwise. If questioned by my hubby, Todd never existed. Todd is just a name I pulled out of thin air. And besides, I had not yet met my hubby. There is a grandfather clause in love.

POW!

I have spent the entire weekend fighting with my hubby. What a silly useless waste of time. I should have just killed him Friday.

Thoughts of an Ex Chub Chub

Sometimes the size of my body will cause me vivid worry. When I lay in bed at night, and my bones rub sharply together for lack of flesh, I know I should eat more. I feel like a sinew bone snake, who will bloat into a deformity if I feed. But the sense of power and self control far out weigh my hunger.

Doggie Genesis

In the beginning there was Runner, and Runner was good. But his master was to build new temples in the nations to the south, leaving Runner to be exiled to the matriarch in the north. Runner lain with Sparky and was fertile. So Og the dog was brought into the kingdom. Og was an unruly one, causing much dismay and unrest, but in time Runner was blessed with Og's seed, begetting Homey, Goldy, and Spare Dog. Goldy stayed behind in the north, but Homey, (Can we take a puppy home? Can we, can we take one home?) and Spare Dog journeyed back to the homeland in the south. Much exalting with two puppy's occurred. Spare Dog went to guard some strangers land. Homey ruled for many years. In time Og was executed during a war with a bordering neighbor. Clyde Da Mutn Da Hunt was his royal paper carrying successor. Clyde and Homey lived a peaceful life but their existent caused jealousy in the queen of the household to then brought Bailey into the house. She then proclaimed the sheepdog Bailey to be blind and appointed herself the official seeing eye person. Bailey lived to a ripe smelly old age, and a great sadness swept the land when he passed. Homey lost the, Homey vrs Goliath car battle, and a darkness ensued the kingdom. Clyde has lead a long and prosperous life, but one with out descendants, praise to the holy vets scalpel. There is talk in the land of the coming of a new dog. But hear me, I will smote any that dare bring another living thing unto my kingdom. Let it be said, let it be done.

My Soul For a Good Box of Peanut Brittle

They appeared on the top shelf of my cupboard some time ago. The box surprised me, but I get at least one every year. They just now surface earlier in the season. I just try to pretend I don't see them there.
I told my Hubby the first year we were together, that my Dad would always buy my Mum a box of chocolate covered cherries for Christmas. Dad got the idea to to this because my Grampa had always bought my Mum chocolate covered cherries. It was tradition.
When guests would come over, the box of candy would be passed around. Being a diabetic, I was excluded from sampling this seasonal treat. In my wiser years I asked my mother why she would share her gift and not eat them for herself. "I hate chocolate covered cherries", was Mum's answer. "I always have." She was just too polite to point that out to her family.
My Hubby and I were out shopping that first year together, and I went into a severe hypo-glycemic shock. Hubby hurriedly bought a couple boxes of cherries and managed to get me out into his truck in the parking lot, where he fed me candy until my blood sugar returned to normal, and I could walk and talk corherantly once again. The candy saved me from unconsciousness.
Now I get boxes of that crap every year as soon as they start appearing in the stores. Any one want to come over for some coffee and cherries?

Live Another Day

Come nightfall fall,
this is no fun at all
I haven't seen a movement
my limbs are cold and stiff
I'm beyond discouragement.

Come nightfall fall
I want to unload this heavy rifle
and start the long walk back home
my boys are asleep besides me
their soft snores the only sound I hear

Come nightfall fall
I am not afraid of the dark wilderness
we will have our winters food regardless
Sun, give me a reason to put down this gun
I promise we will both be back tomorrow.


Not only will the deer live another day, but another year. The only deer seen while I was holding my rifle, was by my oldest son, K1, who promptly and loudly yelled, "LOOK MOM-A DEER!!" The deer did however come out in droves as we drove away, causing us to swerve the jeep numerous times to avoid hitting them on the highway. The only time my kids were even close to keeping still and quiet was when they were sleeping. Nothing like sitting for an entire day freezing to appreciate a good drive thru burger.

How to Be a Man

"Your What?"
"I'm going up north hunting."
"With the kids?"
"Yes, I told you all this before, remember?"
"You plan on pulling the boys out of school and taking them with you?"
"Yes, thats the plan."
"For a whole week?"
"No- just however long it takes."
"I don't know about this. You didn't ask me."
"Yes. I did. Many times. You wanna go with us? You are more than welcome."
"What about Thursday night. You know the tutor comes Thursday night."
"Not this Thursday. I've already cancilled Joyce."
"The hell. What about K1's gutar lession."
"Not this week It's M.E.A."
"Well, you need a licence. Ever think about that?"
"This is not the first time I have ever hunted you know. You should get a lience and go too."
"Where are you going to stay? Or where you just heading for the bush?"
"American Inn in town. They have a pool for the kids."
"They are probley full already with hunters."
"Want my comfermation number jerk?"
"Well it wouldn't be the first time you just took off without thinking."
"What gun will you use- got it ready?"
"30 ot 6"
"You never even asked me about this. You just do what you want."
"Remember when I told you I was putting in for vacation during hunting season? See this written across the calendar?"
"Shut up. You just better hunt safe. Don't go blowing your fool head off. Or the kids."
"I am soo going to bag a huge buck. Gut it myself. Roll around in the blood. Howl like an animal."
"Got your warm blaze orange hunting clothes packed?"
"Yes."
"How about K1 and K2, got clothes for them too?"
"Yes, someone has to teach them to be a man."
"Good luck Munkay, wish I was going."
"I can bring home the bacon, pow pow pow pow, fry it up in the pan...."


written at the american inn at the border- where it is snowing heavily and there is no spell check

Boo Halloween

I like my candy egg or bunny shaped. If I want a prank or a joke, there is always April Fools. Celebrate a holiday that is based on pagan ritual? I'll pass. I do like dressing in costumes. Any time of the year. Dressing up like a witch or a mass murderer never has appealed to me. I just wonder why it ok to decorate schools and public places with black cats and demons, symbols to some, while it is incorrect to display a cross? The difference is?

Just a Side of Beef

Poor little plastic cow
laying in the filth
you've been tipped again
tipped again

The boys who come to you at night
looking for some fun
do not care for you at all
to them your just a mark

Grow a backbone and some pride
they are out to corral you from the inside
real cowboys, cows they do not ride
stay vertical you stupid bovine

You think your wild and undomesticated
chewing on your bitter cud
no one wants to put their brand on you
rancid meat packing plant here you come

Poor little plastic cow
laying in the filth
you've been tipped again
tipped again
don't give away your milk

Ghosts of Mahna

I avoided her while she was sick. While my intension were good, my fear was stronger. I came up with a million reasons not to visit Mahna. When I bent over her coffin to say good by to her emaciated once beautiful face, my illogical excuses were more feeble than she had ever been during her fight.
I see her face way too often now. All last summer, it was Mahna's eyes that would thank me from under the concealing hat the Jakes mom, Brenda wore during her treatments on the days I would bring over dinner.
It is Mahna's smile that tells me everything is ok when Eli's mom shows me her new boyish figure, thanks to the recent surgery.
I have seen Mahna on my mom, my aunt, and my sister.
I never what to see that likeness again.

Say Waah?

The difference between shock and awe is all in your lip placement. If you are in shock, you move your top lip. While in awe, it is your bottom lip that moves. You are sitting there right now, twisting your lips all chimp like, testing my theory, aren't you?

Succubus is today's Pie Flavor

I am in the auto paraphernalia surplus store not because I want to be, but because my dash light emergency alarm tell me I have to . Could be worse, I could be walking home, lost on some dark road, in these high heels, instead of lost in isle nine trying to differentiate between catalytic converters and piston defibulators. Movement at the end of the long row of fuel injected whatcha ma jiggies catches my eye. It is a man worth looking at. Something about this hunk of a male at the far end is familular. Is it his build? Or the roll of his shoulders as he walks? I know this man. But where? Did I date him? I meander closer. Maybe I knew him from work. Or did he come in my antique store? Click- click go my high heels as I definitely sashay closer. "Look at me", I scream in my mind, as his eyes are glued to the box in his hands. My mind races to place this guy. I know him from somewhere, but where? I hope it was that I married him during a wild drunken trip to Vegas. The floral shop? Girlfriends hottie brother? Ugh! On no! Sampson! I know him now. My baby's old babysitter. Sam was such a sweety pie. All grown up. The embarrassment spreads up my cheeks in a flush as I hurry unseen by Sammy to the checkout.
I am juggling my keys and purchases out in the parking lot when I drop my new hemmy powered dew hickey and it rolls under my jeep. I crouch down and peer at it laying there just out of my reach. So I try coaxing it out by taking a couple futile swipes at it with the torn bag it came in. I would just crawl under my car, but I am in my good skirt, and too mad to think reasonably. So instead I use the word the millatary used to shorten the phrase, "forced unlawfull cardinal knowldge". " Woah, ok Miss, but first let me get this here fore you", is what I hear as my old babysitter, the newly reconized Sampson, dives under the jeep and retrieves my gizmo. He gallantly hands my slightly muddy part back to me with a flourish. "Oh! Mrs. Robinson!", he stammers. It is his turn to blush. Ok the Mrs. Robinson part was probly just in my dirty old mind. Ever the polite young gentleman he offers to help me, "get it on", before blushing a deeper shade of -I want to bite my own tongue off red. In a matter of seconds I went from feeling incredibly old to very young. And then all I could feel was dirty.
Car parts work better than candy.

Calendar Boy

How do I feel about my my baby, K1, joining wrestling? Delighted. Yes there is the chance he will get hurt in such a full contact competitive sport, but hey, it's a sport.

The best thing about the wrestling team is how they raise funds for their team. They thought out of the box of a classroom. A few years back, the team, which consists of your more your non typical reform personalities, decided not to sell candy, or gift wrapping paper, or coupons, as goes the status quo for extra curricular activities go. Instead they came up with their own beef cake calendar.

The twenty five buff jocks hired their own photographer for the shoot. Using their parents or friends Harley Davidson motocycles, the boys where photographed posing in leather on the bikes. Needless to say, the calendars sold like hotcakes. When the scandal concerning using the young men's bodies to promote sales raised it's ugly head, the calendar supply sold out and more had to be ordered.

The next year, when the moral inquisition approached the free thinking coach, he assured the few indignant parents that the team would not pose on motorcycles.

The team instead, dressed in their tight form fitting lycra wrestling unitards.

Tight spandex.

And the debate club has a dog wash.

One Smiley Face Balloon in Review

I sit in between big boss and little boss as they tell me what they think of me. "We want you to be a key player in our organization", says big boss. "But you need to start taking your job seriously", adds little boss. I wrinkle my forehead in thoughtful concentration, as I squint with reasonable determination and I imagine the two of them in a wressling ring wearing tights and capped leotards as they tag team berate me. "We value your efforts and the skills you have brought us, but we are concerned with your attitude." "My attitude?" I repeat as I look at the arrangement of yellow roses on little bosses desk. "Your teasing, primarily." I squint harder. The card reads -To my sweetheart. "Really?" Sweethearts get red roses. The color yellow is for buddies. "Yes, we know you are making friends with the guests over in your building, but your teasing my be taken the wrong way." One of the flowers heads is hanging limp. It's lone stalk can't reach the water. The rest of the bouquet is flourishing. "But I treat them like my family. They like it when I remember to give them my personal attention."I picture myself with spatula in hand, doing my impersonation of a pirate chiding my new mates on the dangers of scurvy if they don't eat my vegetables. "You should rethink that." The memory of me trying to playing donut ho bowling with my guests pop straight out of my imagination. I hang my head and memorize how the brown weaved into the beige strands of the carpet all take turns uniformly. "Ok", I mumble and I think of how much I enjoy the sound of the metal of my knives against the edge of the rasp as I sharpen them. "We don't want the human resource department on our backs. We need to keep you in tune with what is politically correct."I look up and stare past them out the window where I can see the happy face I drew on the balloon that I had tied earlier to the rail out side Don, the deaf mute dishwashers window. "It's not like we are against you having fun, you get need to be a team player."The sigh I release has its start in the sick snake region of my belly."Your co-workers enjoy working with you. Maybe you could participate more." In my head it is Foghorn Leghorns voice coming out of big bosses body. "Try some of the charitable activities here?" Why?, when I would rather be home in my underwear eating peanut butter straight out of the jar with my fingers and teaching myself to tango. I laugh and nod in agreement to the tune from "Last Tango in Paris" that is running through my mind. "Good", they answer all smug and self ritchous as they open the office door for me. "We value having you as a team player and want to keep you on board", they wave me off. "I quite", I tell the closing door. "WHAT?", big boss says, jerking the office door back open, all red in the face. "Quince", I answer. "Did we get any fresh ones in?"

The Loser In Me

Will run to answer the phone when it rings, and then stand there and hold my breath until after the third ring. That way I sound breathless, when I finally pick up, as if I am too busy doing exciting physical things, to answer the phone in a timely manner.

Orders all her clothes via the mail to avoid having to "dress" to clothes shop.

Stopped testing the keytones in her urine while diabetic for a while, because the labels warning, "Do not take internally." I thought I would die if I used the strips forever. I did not know the difference, at age eight, between internal and eternity.

Had never heard a radio until the first grade. My bus driver, Russle, had a station on from Rosoe, Minnesota. When the d.j. announced, "And next, we have the Andy Gibb...", I thought my heart throb, Andy, was in the station, an hour away. I just want to be your every thing, Andy. Damn you Kathy Watson for bursting my bubble and telling me about records.

Took an entire two years to finish the oil portrait of her family of men. It is an abstract picture that my Hubby hates and he will hide it. It hangs in my bathroom, where no one can see. I will on occasion, whip out my paint brushes and tweak it. It is my favorite picture I have ever painted.

Stole a bottle of caustic nasty topical ointment out of her physitions office after having my skin treated in an rude area. Burnt self with harsh chemicals when trying to self medicate same rude area. Had to find new Dr. to treat my "mystery" burns.

Spend three months of summer vacation sunbathing on my sisters big old Oldsmobile hood, drinking ice tea, while attempting to co-write the next great romance novel. Never got past the first chapter due to the arguments over plot. Only thing we did agree on was the main caricature be a blue eyed blond Scandinavian chick. Decided to actually read our first romance before trying to write our own.

When chatting on instant messenger, will sometimes leave the program before the person I am talking with has finished typing their goodbye. Makes me feel wanted when I sign on again and see an off line message waiting for me.

Got a job cleaning fishing cabins for less than minimum wage at a resort. Told my best friend I was spending all my time with my made up boy friend who I named Jim Beamer. After all the Jim Beam bottles I cleared out of those stinky scale covered shacks while she hung out with a real boy.

Will run the water in her bathroom sink when feeling lonely, just to attract the cat from out of it's hiding spot. Water, apparently, is less boring than me.

Has to be the first one to eat the little center peak off the any container holding soft food stuffs, where the product is poured into the container. Yogurt, ice cream, peanut butter, guacamole, I have my spoon ready to taste the best freshest spot. I call it. Works at home somewhat and at work not so often.

Spends more time in the lobby or the bathroom hiding because she is embarrassed to not have the rhythm to clap in time to the music at church. Hubby knows this so when he does go with he will fake clap off beat to throw me off even more. Spend more time in service praying for forgiveness for cursing the rhythm nation.

Has a lucky bra.

Will not trade in her football stadium sized cell phone for a smaller newer one because she has yet to master the one she has. And likes the big buttons.

Says the term, "Call my attorney, Bob Loblaw", to herself inside her head whenever she finds herself in a sticky stituation and laughs out loud, causing further trouble.

Has a quarter pound left of the mega Hersheys kiss that a valentine once gave her, hidden in her closet under the Christmas wrapping paper. She never bothered to save his card or picture, but finds this imperishable lump sentimental and tasty.

Doesn't wash her jeep because she thinks a true off road vehicle should look rugged.

Has a large framed poster of Marilyn Monroe lifting weights hung over the weight bench she stores her candle making bees wax. Uses the bees wax so she does not resemble Marilyn Manson.

Turns the bedroom radio on to a pop rock station on the mornings before she leaves for work so that when she climbs the stairs at bedtime it sounds like their is a wild dance party happening in her room and she is not alone.

Wolfgang doing a sucker impersonation with Guito Posse

swim sucka swim

Good Bye Summer Friend

Our season in the sun's warm light is over
but your memories they will last
we'll both be a year bigger when we meet again
even your fight it was a blast.
I'll be waiting here for you on the shore
when the winters snow will melt
come visit my rod again
I promise to let you go.

Written by Wolfy, a.k.a. K2 , labhor day 05 on the St. Croix River to a sucker fish named Gueto Posse, a.k.a. Sucka

Friction

How to piss the world around you off:

Wear your sons expensive baggy getto skater jeans. Then hang out in your son's vicinity. Smile and politely say thank you when complimented on them. Do not change out of them for a week at least. Most important, do not wash them. Sleep in them.

When driving down a dark country lane at night and approached from behind by a fast moving car, obviously the obnoxious teenagers in your neighborhood, slow waaay down. Do not let them pass you by driving your jeep in the center of the road. If you do let them get around you, turn your lights on high beam and ride their ass.

While seated near a family of noisy kids that are too young to sit quietly through a movie without crying at a theater, say nothing to them. Wait until they are on their cell phone after the show is over, and surround the parent with yourself and your well mannered children. All of you then must start then start yelling, "Waa-Waa-Waa-Waa", loudly enough to ruin her conversation and frighten her brats.

Sing out of season highly repetitive Christmas carols at work. Or if you know the lyrics to the Seasme Street diddy, "Ma na min na, be beep, be be beep, ma na min na, be beep be be, ma na min na, be be da beep beep, da beep beep, da beep beep, da be be be be...", in a Grover voice, sing it only once. Co workers will not be able to get the words out of their heads and will be singing all day driving themselves crazy.

When you pull out of the mall parking lot, during the holiday season, late one cold night, after pulling a double shift ringing the salvation army bell, and the local cop pulls you over for a tail light infraction, in the blizzard that caused to to quite for the night, smile as you paw through your billfold with your frozen fingers while you try to find your proof of insurance. Make the creepy donut eater stand and wait in the cold snow as you countless times rifle through your pictures and business cards. Repetedly mutter, "I know I got it here somewhere", but do by no means pull out the card. When the pig has lost all patience and is bouncing on his tip toes to keep warm, smile up at him and say, "Some weather eh". When he stomps back to his cruiser to write you up for no proof of insurance, lean back in your seat, holding your insurance card in one hand on top of the steering wheel. When the officer comes back with your ticket, branish your card and say, "Knew I had it." Smile sweetly as he fumes away with your unsigned ticket.

When the waiter who brings you lunch insists the chocolate syrup that was drizzled over your sauteed veggies is really a balsamic reduction sauce, go ahead and argue. Disagree both times he returns to the kitchen to check. When he finally does concede that yes, Hursheys was used, tell him it was the best part. Eat only the chocolate- leave the rest of your meal. Spell out "condescending ass" out of the uneaten vegetables as a tip.

If your mate repeatedly refuses to pick up his dirty socks off the kitchen floor, do not nag the over worked darling. Instead pick them up for him. Then carry them gingerly out to his work shop before nailing them to the wall.

When your cat is sitting on your lap, make a huffing sound non stop through your open mouth. It must sound like a cross between a labor pain and an orgasm. A little like a rapid dog pant.When kitties eyes get big and black, do not stop. Unless your feline has not been declawed. Not responsible for scars.

If those in your household leave their eye glasses in your space, leave them right where they lay. But use vasaline or a light coating of butter over the lens to encouage their owners to put their spectacles in a safe clean environment.

If a discourteous driver happens to take up more than one parking space, squeeze yourself in as close as you can to his car. Even if you have room on the other side. Must be done on the drivers side so he cannot open his door to get in.

When the neighbor kid calls for the millionth time and asks for your son, do not repeat telling him, no he is not here right now, he will call you back when he is home. Instead, ask who is calling.When he answers Jake, exclaim, "Jake, there's no one named Jake here, what are you calling me for?" Hang up. It will confuse Jake into not calling back.

While walking past the elevator at work while a co-worker is getting on, yell, "Race ya!", and make it look as if you are heading for the stair. They will not get mad for about the three minutes when they realize you are not coming and they wasted time waiting for you to appear on the stairs so they could gloat their victory.

When the carry out boy at the grocery store struggles with your cumbersome bags, ask, "Are those heavy?" Their vanity will not allow them to admit their arms are braking off. When they answer, "No", ask them to carry your purse then too.

If you are female, tuck part of your shirt into the bottom of your bra under the cups. But do not hike it up to show any navel. Just tuck in about a half an inch. It will distract and annoy any males in your viewing range.

Post unrelated comments on other bloggers posts. Go off on a entire different topic. Make your comment longer than their post.

Have a good day eh.

Runaway Kook

If it wasn't for that cow on the side of the Kemps dairy truck, I wouldn't be here right now. Not in my home, or in this state either. Probley nor even on this continent for that matter. The time it took that semi to make a leisurely left hand turn west onto highway 8, was all the time I needed to change my mind and abandon my brilliant scheme. It was that heifer's face looking back at me with it's large soft brown eyes along with the Kemps company motto, "It's the cows", written underneath it that reminded me of Robert B's eyes, and the promise I had made him for dinner.

Work at the rehab center has not been running smoothly. Both my patience and my tolerance has been worn thin due to the mountain of added responsibility, and increased work load crammed into my over long work day. Coworkers, instead of being of help, exist only to cause me irritation lately. My mind, when aloud the luxury of a daydream, wraps it's self around foot rubs and warm solitary bed fantasies. This past weekend, when the walk in cooler and freezer sighed it's last tempt breath, it was the nudge that sent me cursing over the edge. My heart sunk with a loud thud hitting the now barren metal cooler causing a rippling effect in the strategically placed lakes surrounding the compound. Then I thought of the pending alumni reunion coming in for a long weekend and me with no refridgeration to uphold my food sanity. As much as I longed to crawl under the desk in the back store room and curl up, hugging my knees to my chest while I rock maniacally and babble in devil tongue, I did the next best thing. I commandeered in a somewhat shady manner the company van and planned to pick up my needed perishables from the main kitchen and transport all of them back across campus to my kitchen between each meal. That would have been a breeze had each meal not consisted of a dozen loaded carts of industrial sized food stuffs. Tossing the last of my necessities for dinner into the van, the gallon sized plastic jug of thousand island dressing slipped out of my hands and landed on the cement, exploding on contact, and covering me from the knees to toes in stinky orange goo. My mind was beyond pandemonium at that point. It was t minus one hour forty five minutes to have two entrees, a carbohydrate and choice of veg plus a salad bar and desert ready for sixty hungry expectant guests. The shelf live of my reasoning ability had reached it expiration point.

I left that broken jug of dressing right where it landed, at the base of the steps into the big kitchen. I had also dropped all premise of rational as I sat perched on the edge of the illicit van's seat, clutching on the the steering wheel to be able to reach the pedals. I hoped the big lout who had moved the seat all the way back and jammed it, so I had to drive like a little munkay just handed a loaded gun, slipped in my mess, and hurt himself, bad.

The campus was already teeming with new arrivals. As I politely waited as the pokey pedestrains meandered across my service road/walking path, I hatched my plan.

I had a large loaded van with with food and a tank full of gas. A very non descriptive vehicle. All I had to do was make a series of turns out of this compound and head to the open road and freedom. Easy does it, my ass, I thought, when my nervous eyes spotted the company's encouraging road sign posted to remind all abusers as well as all drivers to slow down, as I made my first turn onto the road towards a new life. Move now, you dawdling group of penguins posing as promenaders, I'm out of here.

I would pick my boys up at their school on my way, and call my supervisor, explaining vaguely I had a huge incident to buy myself time before he called the authority's and reported the van stolden. I could put many miles between hell and destiny before they called the cops. Buy enough time to snatch some new plates in another state even, I planned as I was finally able to pull out onto the service road. I grinned as I imagined a group of starving rioters pillaging my listing kitchen with flaming torches and fighting over the goldfish crackers I had left behind.

My kids would love our adventure. I would let them pick out their new hair colors at some Walmart in Iowa. Heck they could even pick out their new names. Of course I would stop by my bank on 8 and empty some of the accounts. I would have K1, I mean Marly, as he has always liked that name, in the front seat with me, with sunglasses and a linen napkin fashioned into a turban of sorts wrapped around his head to give the illusion, when the teller is questioned later, and the security camera footage scanned, that I may be being abducted by a terrorist.

I would stop by a few construction sites on my way south and send charming K2, er, Otto out to sell lunches to hungry workers at break time from the supplies in our getaway van to further our pocket money and lighten our load. Get out of my way damn you, you smug maitenance driver in your issued company vehicle. South America is waiting for me.

I will drop the van off at some airport in say, Ohio, to throw any unwanted heat off our trail. By that time, all the steaks blood will be mixed with the pork blood that will have dripped off of the raw meat in back and onto the van's floor and the time it takes for the lab tests to confirm they are not mine or the kids will jigsaw our puzzle even more. Then I can buy myself a nice little black el Camino circa 1978 that I have always wanted well since 1978. I don't care if you are a staff member or not there sister, walk like you mean it or I will be wearing you on the outside of this get a way van.

How hard would it be for me and the kids to get across the border into a warm third world country.?Gotta be much easier than getting in. My breathing became a little faster as I pulled onto Pleasant Orchard Road, off the foundations land , as I pictured the clean little ocean village I would soon be calling home. I would open a jerk chicken stand on the beach, my kids like fire, and I would make our living selling barbecue to the affluent tourist. Or perhalps a coffee stand where I would be a barista named Geta and the locals would come for a cup and a story of my homeland, Norway, and my family who had all died in an unexpected avalanche while herding the sheep that supplied the wool needed for the manufacturing of Ugg boots. Marly will teach travelers to string flower lai's and Otto will study marine biology. If anyone trys to speak Norwegin to me, I will burst into tears and clain I am to despondant to reply in my native tounge. We will only allow ourselves to miss our past as we sit cooking our sweet potato lefsa on a hot rock in our fire pit on Christmas, and plan for the day I can tell Hubby of our whereabouts, after he has retired and cashes in his pension, to join us. I cannot tell him sooner, as he cannot lie and the police would see through him faster than the clear sea saltwater that will be in the taffy I will manufacture and slip notes in, fortune cookie style, before shipping back to Minnesota to maintain correspondence with my family behind.

Areosmith, Cake, Systems of the Down, Rolling Stones and even a new PSP to keep me and the kids entertained on the long drive went on the Walmart shopping list in my mind as I squeezed my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel so I would not slide back in the seat and be unable to reach the accelerator once the semi in front of me finally pulls into traffic onto highway 8. I must remember a large cushion to brace my back as long as I'm there, or I will never be able to drive the entire trip, I thought.

It was then the semi pulled into traffic and I caught sight of those beautiful bovine eyes pleading with me. Roberts eyes. His license plate on his Mercedes reads Dr Bear. And he is a sweet teddy bear of a doctor man. He has been back at recovery almost a month now. I am always glad to see him and he is polite and often asks after my kids. I share my adventures on my day off with him and I show him pictures of my family. I try to make a special effort to cook healthy alternatives for Robert. He vaguely mentioned once to me he likes kale, and I told him I would see what I could do to get my hands on some for him. Robert has told me if he does not take care of his body, and what he eats, he is more tempted to abuse chemicals again. The thought of him backsliding and start using again could mean the possibility of him unintentionally hurting one of his patents. I could not live like that, even on a beach front nirvana.

All I thought about when I turned that grey van around at the stop sign was weather or not the bale of kale in the back would taste good with a smathering of thousand island dressing.

Clique

The picture was taken so long ago, I had forgotten it had existed. I barely recognize us in it. My home girls. Five girl friends till the end. Looking at how young we are there, babies really, it makes me feel old. That was the last time we were all together.

It was taken on my best friends wedding day. Well more exactly on the day after the ceremony, during the gift opening party at her parents house. We are all tired, slightly hung over, and sad, as we pose one last time on the front steps before leaving for mostly good, on that Sunday afternoon so long ago. We all know life as we know it will never be the same for us. But we are excited for the future too. And happy, if not envious of our friend for having just married the man of her dreams and is about to depart to start her new life far away from us.

That's Diania on the far end of the steps we are all lined up. Bold and straight forward, Diania confidently looks directly into the camera's lens. It is her camera that takes this picture. We all admire her for the courage it has taken her as she recently moved to the big city and started photography classes on her own. She is the one who directed and organized us all to sit still for this. After she meets her abusive husband, and her family shuns her when she finally divorces him, it will be along time before she is able to look anyone, especially her self straight in the eye. It is years before I hear her infectious laughter pour out of her again.

Laney is sitting besides Dianna, mouth wide open in a nervous laugh. I know she is uncomfortable having this picture taken. She was not aloud her required two hours primping time before we all sat down and throw our arms around each other. Even though she is slightly slumped down, like she is wishing her body could fold it's self in on herself to hide, the body a brick shit house would envy, is visible. Maybe it is the stress of live as a single mother, or being the parent of a spoilt beast, that has caused Laney to gorge herself to unhealthy proportions, and rarely leave her apartment except to her dental practice.

There is Carry, front and center, as it should be, it is her day. She has been the main attraction for the long weekend and she has her practiced smile and head tilt down to a T. Her white blond hair is shining like a halo, and she looks so happy. She still does to this day. The desicion she made that weekend was the right one, young and inexperienced as she was. Her boys resemble her. They were well worth all the difficulties it took for her to have them. Big sky country has smiles down on her from the photo's she sends me of the mountain biking trips or her latest promotion with her career.

Then there is Laury, sitting taller than any of us, head back, long beautiful red hair tumbling around her face, bright blue eyes closed in laughter. I hope it is a reflex causing her to close her eyes, and not that she is still intoxicated from the previous night, or the voices telling her not to look. Damn those voices that stole Big Red's future. Why did she listen to them? The excess of alcohol, then drugs, sex, and now food and cigarettes were trying to abate what infallible hunger in her? Why could none of us seen where she was headed and helped her?

And that's me on the end. Looking at my friends out of the corner of my eye, hoping to freeze this moment in my mind for eternity. I look softer and rounder than I can ever remember being. At that point in my life, I had no set plans for my future. Of all of us, I have changed my vocation, location, and appearance the most. I can even remeber what I thought as the shutter closed. "C'mon already take the picture. I'm not going to ever forget this and my butt hurts from sitting on this cement in these tight jeans. I have a life to get on with. And if you don't take it soon I'm going to burst into tears."

This picture was worth a thousand words when it was taken. It is priceless with memories now.

Spirit of Renewal

First of all, I just want to state I do not believe in ghosts. Nope, the paranormal only live in other people's minds. They are not real. I do believe people think they have seen the unknown, but until I have some reliable solid facts, I hold boogy men incredible. Even more strange, I do know that I personally think that I once, not only seen, but had a short conversation with on as well. But that was a while back and time has a way with making one doubt their own memory. Since then I have come up with umpteen million explanations for my ethereal experience. But that story is for another time.
It seams, however, that I have been working closely with one for the past five months. My co-workers were reluctant to tell me of the phenomena I have deemed Bojangales, for fear I would not work by myself in the satilight kitchen across campus from the main kitchen. From what I have discovered, my company has had a hard time keeping staff in my position because of Bojangales surprise appearances. Now if my co-workers would not have let their sightings slip, I would have been happy in my nieve little world. I would blamed the misplaced thermometers and the bumps in the night as just that, forgetfulness and noise. But now I am always on edge. And in doubt. I do not believe there is anyone there with me, but with the darkness that invades our waning daylight hours, darkness invades my mind.
There are many times when I am in the building all alone. My kitchen is part of the alumni lodge, where gaduates of the recovery program return to stay for follow up treatment. Often the front offices close at five. So frequently it is just me, one little munkay, and up to thirty guests, and come to find out, Bojangles. After dinner, when the guest speakers are lecturing in the main auditorium hall, it is just me and Jangy.
Jangy, by my understanding, first made his appearance to Heidi one night as she was locking the walk in cooler door and Jangy was on the inside, looking out at her through the glass window in the door. Heidi left the satilight kitchen never to return. Sent a matenance man over to retrieve her keys. Yes, I tell myself, they was her own reflection she seen, but she claims she has never worn glasses, Jangy does. So says Mitch, who claims to have seen a vaporous bespeckled man him in the hall leading to the loading dock more than once.
Mostly Jangy is friendly and tries to help. When he tipped over the seventy pound silverware rolling machine in the locked dry storage, and moved the napkins across the room and in between the cases of pop for little ninety pound old Heidi, well that was just mischievous. Helping the housekeepers by spraying cleaning solvents across walls and turning on showers shows Jangy is really going the extra mile. He helps the guest check out by always having the luggage trolleys outside the right doors in the mornings before the receptionists day begins. The tales of him singing through intercom systems that are not longer connected, well that to me is just far-fetched. I want to think that the mechanical hulk who patrols my building is on my side on the non-existence of this haunt, being as soon as I mention Jangy, his mouth gets all tight as he closes his hand securely around his flashlight and he immediately begins fidgeting with the buttons on his walky-talky as he hastens away.
To deal with this spooky notion, I have to to think of Jangy as my imaginary friend. "New friend!", I will announce before entering an uninhabited room. ( I do now wish to surprise him or offend him if he does not like the name I have given him.) " Man, it sure is quiet in here I hope it stays this way", I will ponder out loud, as often as I utter, "Now it just isn't nice to scare a lady, or me." I hope he has a sense of humor. I have even been thoughtful enough to leave my little buddy notes. " Please file my inventory sheets. Double check the sham controls. I will see if my productivity increases. I just know I get done at work a hell of a lot faster now. Remind me to leave a thank you note.

If I had Only said....

"I weigh one hundred and thirty pounds tops there Dr. Dumbass. That is not fat. I know the diabetic diet plan and the hypoglycemic food index inside/outside/upside down. My cholesterol is better than yours. You spend the next hour with the dietician and I'll bill you 150. big ones."

"No, my dad is not home right now. But you already know that. So I'll just breath into the phone for awhile and you'll give me an A for this quarters algebra. And I'll hate numbers for the rest of my school days and long into adulthood. Goodbye."

"If henna is a safe natural way to bring out my hairs own red highlights, do it to your own hair Sis. I like my blond hair. But I think seeing you with burnt carrot orange hair would be worth it. It will grow out or break off in time."

"No, you do not have to love it like it was your own. It is, after all, the Rocks baby. But thanks for saying that right after I took the early pregnancy test Hubby."

"Show me YOUR tits. Man boobies really turn me one. And I'll stop waving these enticing beads."

"Not another thing that needs feeding is coming into the house." (What I should of said after the first dog, the first cat, the first bird, the first fish, the first cow, the first plant, the first spare boy.)

"Drugs? No! Contraband fruit yes! I so enjoy a good cavity search. And I'm a lesbian too boot, even better. Bring it on Butchy!"

"Ride the "wild thing" again? I'll just save us the time and money and throw up on you right here and now!"

"Just buy a new spark plug to be sure for pitys sake. I'm really not stupid enough to hold a wrench to that piece of metal while standing in wet grass as you pull the cord."

"Stay with me and tell the hairdresser I am a girl. I am too shy to tell her that I am not a boy and will be traumatized when she cuts my hair soo short. I will never again be able to wear my hair short, even it is obvious I am female."

"GIRL FRIEND COMES HOME? What the hell do you mean, girl friend comes home. Hand me my clothes you pig."

"Angle food, red velvet, crumb-now that is cake. Climbing all the way up here, tresspassing on private property with this massive home made bungie contraption of sorts, is not cake. Carry me back down."

"Yes, I'll dance." (Should have been said to Tom Balerd. I thought he said, "Wet your pants? yes he was that hot, that I could not imagine him dancing with me. I could imagine myself wetting myself however- so I ran to the bathroom instead.)

"No, I do not believe you. I have stopped arguing with you, not that I agree with you, but to better my view the smoke that any second will start pouring out of my own ass. Ow! Your nose just took out my eye!"

"Give me the painkillers now while my window of opportunity is open, don't hold back." (Go through labor and you will be nodding your head right now.)

"Take me with you to South Dakota, Dale. I will not let you spend every last cent of your savings and inheritance buying a sick race horse."

"No pastor Paul, I will never be back to fulfill my confirmation requirements. Instead I will be plagued with vague guilt right up to the point I stop practicing Lutheranism."

"So what if I do have long trombone playing arms, Mr. Weiner? I want to play the drums. Let me pound my heart out for you. Your band can find someone more geeky to play trombone."

"I will draw and quarter you if you insist I butcher frozen chickens, so you can save a buck ten per case. What is my time worth here, ever figure that one out? I will slap you sensible with my iceberg hands, cheese natzi."

"Sufficiently adequate, am I? Our pool boy says I'm the best he's ever had." (Ok so I did say that one out loud, I just wanted someone other than Hubby to hear.)

"I'm too heavy to get a gig as an airline stewardess am I? Heavy is this anvil I'm about to drop on your head."

"Of course I have room for dessert. Bring two you wimp."

"Try selling me an extended warranty one more time, and I"m using this appliances own cord to strangle you. No means no."

"Oh, you wish you could eat like me do you? Well it's obvious you do. You just gotta learn to work that mother load once and awhile eh."

"I'm glad my child puked that nasty medicine up all over you there Dr Screwball Mc Gooball. When he is here for nausea, he is nauseous. Try vet school. Quack."

"I'm naming the baby after you, dad. I'm not taking the two more weeks, which you don't have, to tell you."

"No, I won't marry you Roy, because I am way way too young. Please forget I just yelled. "Help, my hair is caught in your door handle."

"Yes, your son should have married "the nice one." How I wish it was her here right now, instead of me."

"If chasing you around the kitchen table brandishing a broken glass keg-o-ketchup is evil, than yes, I'm evil. But you are gonna clean this mess up and go with me to church in the morning damn it."

Would my life had turned out any better if I had said these at the opertune time? Maybe, but probly not, because if I had gotten myself into these places in the first place...

Auto Erotic

I have been to a variety of live entertainment events, but this was the first time I have ever been to a burn out contest. The church that I frequent holds an annual car show and tire burn, but I have never quite fully comprehended it's appeal before today. Yes, my church is unorthodox in sponsoring such an event, but they want to reach out to those who would not normal feel welcomed in a house of worship. No bingo players or potluck eaters here. Nothing conventional about this place. Or the people who were in attendance.

It was a beautiful dog day afternoon. I was styling in my new marimekko tee shirt and had worn my biker boots to fit in with the crowd. Hubby and I took our sons and a couple spare neibhoorhood boys and hit the place full of ethuseasim. The kids soon left us to shop the vendors and admire the rows of gleaming cars and motorcycles . Hubby and I ate pork chops on a stick and danced to some blues rock music the band played from the roof of the church. Ok, I danced around my husband, as he stood there trying not to look embarrassed.

It was worth going to just to people watch. It is a different caliber of people who attend car shows. Lots of middle aged women squeezed into too tight of jeans and dirty leather halter tops. Men with mullets wearing faded tee shirts that read, "Have a good day, fuck someone!" or better yet, "Show me your tits bitch." I watched one befuddled man, carrying a twenty once beer stagger between rows of cars until he came to the front doors of the church, where he proceeded to sway his way inside, still holding his beverage. He immediately came back out and looked up to read the name of the church on the huge sign over the building. Shaking his head, he set his bottle gently in the large sand ashtray on the side of the door and entered again. His beer was safe until he came back out to finish it.

We were front and center on the bleachers when the tire burn out started. A special slab of concrete had been poured for the event and the concrete barriers kept us all safe. For two and a half hours, contestants from all over the states lined up their vehicles for their chance to strut their stuff. The fire truck stood close by, as one by one, the took their turn on the strip.Holding their front brakes on, the revved their engines, causing their back tires to spin and smoke. The more smoke they created, the louder we cheered, and if they managed to blow their tires we roared. "Mom, are you ok? You look kinda sunburned. Oops! Sorry Mom, didn't mean to drop my sticky icy on yah. It will wash out. Does your nose feel like it is coated in hot rubber too? I gotta pee. The loud rumbling of the engines cause my bladder to vibrate. Take me now." "There, K2, the bathrooms are right in there. I'm going to look at this tricked out jeep while you go. Be right here when you come out." I am looking at the car of my dreams. a jacked up red jeep CJ7 customized. I walk by too close and hit its chromed side mirror and bend it slightly ascrew. I frantically try to straighten it before it's owner spots me raping his car. Proud car owners are very peticular about people touching their babies. "Kay!" I hear a male voice close by my ear. No one calls me by this shorten form of my name. It is to intimate, too public, I am momentarily at loss. "Hey Kay, do you like what you see?" It is Bills voice. Only he ever called me that. I do not want to turn to face him. I cannot wait to spin and get a look at him. "Bill! You know what I like. " The juvenile little girl inside me could not resist. She prayed he could not see her soul shaking on the inside. We had both shared a common love of jeeps. And of each other. I should of known such a beautiful automobile would belong to him. "Been a long time. How are you doing?" Right now I am so utterly wonderful, I can not tell you what I am doing here or where I parked. Shut up with the small talk. Just let me look at you before you profess you undying love to me. "Wonderful. I'm wonderful. And it looks like you are doing good too eh?" Go ahead, give me the signal. One motion and I hop in this car with you and we drive off into the sunset. Give me a reason. "Still got your red wrangler?" The one we laid across the hood on, watching the stars and drinking champane from each other lips? The one you would sneak over and polish for me before you left a flower on my seat? "No, I drive a Cherokee wagon now."I cried as I watched that wrangler pull out of my driveway for the last time. Same as I cried after telling you goodbye. "Mom, here I am. Let's go see the smoke." "Is this one yours?" "Yes, one of them."That is what fleeting across his face? Surprise? Disappointment? Envy?I do not think to make introductions. I just stand and grin as K2 tugs my hand impatiently and takes off a cross the parking lot towards the bleachers. "I have to get back to my family now." Oh shit. I forgot I have one. If my legs work, I will try to tear myself away, but right now I am memorizing your handsome face and your words to relive at every available moment. "Well, it was sure good to see you again Kay." My tongue is paralyzed. I have nothing to say. I have a world to tell him. "Your still as beautiful as ever." I smile and wave and turn to run a catch up with my son. "Who was that man Mom?" "An old friend." "Did I ever meet him before?" "No, I knew him before you were born." "Did you know you got meat stuck in between your front teeth?" "Where's our seats, I need to sit down." The contest was won by a large 2003 pickup owned by a local pizza delivery owner/driver who blew his tire and burned with his hazard lights blinking and his pizza sign lit up as he spun. I bet that pizza man dreams of this day every day he works.
The grand finale was a monster truck that crushed a line of cars for Jesus. It was driving by an older man who resembled a member of ZZ Top in a jumpsuit. He stood on the danced across the roofs of the cars he was about to demolish with his mike in hand, thanking the good Lord for the cars he was about to crush, I let out a gaffaw of delight. I'm not sure of the correlation between the son of God and pulverising junkers with an oversized truck, my head was back in the smoky clouds, at that point, but I'm sure it was profound.