March 6 - never just another day for me

If I cuss too much in my blog, let me explain.  Cuss words = sentence enhancers. That's my apology - upfront. Some days, I practice positive thinking. Other days, I’m not positive I am thinking. This is one of those days.

I always try to write in a humorous manner. I love laughter. I love humor. Today's blog has a serious side to it. Is this Vickie speaking? Really? Does she have a serious side? I will let you figure that out yourselves.

Today would have been my late husband's birthday. Out of respect and love for him I always lower my American Flag to half-mast on his birthday, on the annual day of his death and on Veteran's Day. I still miss him everyday. I also miss my father everyday. Sometimes I feel like an amputee, like a crucial part of me has been cut off and is no longer a part of my body.  Yet I can still sense their presence. I have the ability to see their visual images, clear as day, any time I want. I sense their presence all the time. Sure, you all think I'm crazy right now huh? Possibly. Sometimes I even talk to them. No biggy. I talk to animals. Neither one can talk back, but I do it nonetheless.

Take it from me - the death of a spouse is one of the most distressing events in life, if not the most distressing. It's a life-event that one spouse in every couple must eventually face, must endure. I've faced it. I have lived through it. Not easily, but I have survived. It will be 18 years this year. Always coming home to an empty house is not easy. My husband is not here to greet me, and the chair next to mine at the dinner table is always empty. My life seems to echo from the silence and I always shed a tear when I think of him, even after all of these years. Not nearly enough years together, yet so many memories we created together are all I have left. I treasure those memories... they make me laugh or cry, usually both. Losing a loved one really changes your entire life, especially when that person was also your best friend. We were definitely best friends. Something inside of me, specifically my Finnish Sisu, has always told me that I could survive!  And I have. Grief is a lifelong journey, but life does go on.

So many friends have wanted me to hook up with someone, they say I need someone. WTH? These are obviously people who don't really know me. I don't have the energy to give any amount of attention to another relationship; hence I haven't and never will. What the hell do I want to have another man around for? I am a pretty sufficient woman and I am proud of that.  I have never been lonely. I'm not that type of person who gets lonely. I am Finnish. We love our alone time. We can sometimes be happier to be with oneself than with people. Yeah, it's a strange quirk of the Finnish people. I credit that to my survival. But I will admit my dogs make me smile, they listen to me when I feel like talking and they certainly fill my life with love, humor and great friendships. My friend Laura laughs at me because I have conversations with my dogs. Why not? They understand me. They give me love and affection. They give me someone to care for and care about, all four of them.  They greet me when I come home, and lie on my lap or at my feet while I watch TV. Like I said, life does go on. My heart belongs to my companion animals.

                                                           Gypsy

                                                            Shep

                                                      Skye-Pilot

                                                           Kesa

Seriously, these dogs are awesome. Ok, my heart also belongs to the wild animals in the forest. Well, maybe not so much that stupid bobcat that was in my back property not long ago. When it comes to protecting my pets, I will not hesitate to kill. Unfortunately it was late at night, dark, and I was barefoot in the snow with an automatic handgun that jammed. Not thrilled with that 9mm at all. At least I got a couple shots off with my .38 (trusty little revolver that it is) to scare it out of the tree and leave.  It will be a long time before I forget that bobcat’s screams when Skye and Shep had it cornered. It’s a good thing they are big dogs and that bobcat had enough common sense to not attack as I think the dogs would have been the losers in that altercation.  No match to those long sharp claws.


Ralph would have been 67 years old today. I can't even imagine that. But then again, I couldn't have ever imagined me being 60 and well......here I am....freaking' 60 years old! Maybe I better rephrase that to - I couldn't imagine myself surviving to the age of 60. I am somewhat of a dare-devil. I take chances. I don't know if that is because I am adventuresome or just brain dead and lack common sense.  Who cares? I'm still here.

Now, Ralph was my second husband. I like to refer to my two marriages as equivalent to playing a hand of poker in Reno or Vegas. If you get a bad hand and then a good hand, do you really want to gamble on another hand? HELL NO. Lay those cards down and walk away. The first? Let me just say I have learned this...... The first rule of relationships - You don’t find out why someone was available until it’s too late. This is especially true of my first marriage. You know that tingly little feeling you get when you first like that person?  That’s common sense leaving your body. WALK AWAY.

Nonetheless, even though it would have been his birthday I am not going to say "Happy Birthday Ralph". That's stupid. You cannot have birthdays when you are dead. Yes, I am blunt. I also blame that on being Finnish. We don't hesitate to speak our minds. Or speak the truth.

And now, on to the rest of my blog:

My thoughts for today:

I’m pretty sure the whole “ladies first” thing was created by a guy just to check out girls butt’s. Yeah, for sure. And you guys think it's all about looking like a gentleman. Yeah, right. I know the truth because I have been known to hold a door open for a man. I know why I do it.Yeah, I'm 60. I'm not dead.

Everyone in the world talks about leaving a better planet for our kids. I think it would be much more appropriate if we left better kids for our planet.

I have learned that not doing anything with my life is surprisingly time consuming.

Remember, Karma has no menu. You get served what you deserve.

Many people will disappoint you in life. Don’t let any of them be you.

If you like to make love have sex while listening to music, definitely choose a live album. That way you’ll get applause every 3 to 4 minutes. Awesome.

Being a person is getting too complicated. Time to be a black bear. Anybody know where I can get a cute little 'tag-a-long' and a picnic basket?

What is with these self checkout lines nowadays? Was the self checkout line invented by a guy who was sent to the store to buy tampons?

What I'm thinking:

The next time I’m on an elevator with five or more complete strangers, I’m going to turn around and in my serious voice say, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here, at this particular location, but a mission is a mission. Is everybody ready - locked and loaded?”
Wow, is there an elevator in this county? Yep, at Kohl's. Maybe Sears. Obviously it's been awhile since I've been to either, I just can't remember.
But, hell's bells, I can't think of a better way to have fun.

I just finished watching the HBO TV series, Games of Thrones, and now I  don’t know what to do with my life any more. I watched the complete Season 2 which was 10 episodes. In one week-end.  I was consumed by it. I haven't been so hooked on a series since Lord of the Rings. Ok, Twilight comes in 3rd. Obviously I like to live in a fantasy supernatural world huh?

My pissy mode:

I WILL NEVER FORGET. 3000 souls were killed in a senseless violent act on September 11.  I will remember all of those who lost their lives and I will always celebrate our heroes! I heard that Obama ordered the USPS to commission a Muslim stamp. A Muslim stamp? I was furious. All I could think of was the Muslim bombings of our military barracks in Saudi Arabia and Lebanon, the ship USS Cole, the World Trade Center- need I go on? Yes, I will. Our embassies in Africa were bombed by Muslims. And let us not forget the Pan Am Flight. I was ready to stage an uprising of my local Post Office if they even dared to offer me this stamp. Possibly even go 'postal' on them. I am calmed down now - it is not an official USPS stamp (although there have actually been Muslim stamps in the past!!). It was a stamp designed by zazzle.com. You can design anything there. It certainly would not surprise me if Obama had actually ordered such a stamp, after all he is a Muslim. I may be calmed down now, but I can still feel the rage inside just thinking about a Muslim stamp. I know I am not alone - my Finnish cousin in Florida and I have the same opinion.

Now that I unfortunately got on the subject of Obama, I just want to say (and yes Government's Big Brothers, come and get me...) the people of America who voted for him threw us under the bus. Again. Not once, but damn twice. And let me get this out.... Obama is NOT our first black president. He was born to a white mother and a black father. Never any mention of him being white huh?  He is Mulatto. So let's get this straight America. He is our half-black and half-white President. Quit saying he is our first black President. Furthermore, he's not the only U.S. President who had some Negro blood in him. The way this country is headed I wouldn't be surprised to see a Mexican illegal elected to the Presidency. I used to be a Proud American. Not so much nowadays. I could very easily leave this country.  It is NOT what my 4 grandparents immigrated to this country for. Not at all.  I no longer feel safe in the Country that I was born to. Sad.

I guess I do have a pissy mode goin' on today. No apologies on how I feel about this man. None whatsoever. Freedom of Speech.  I am always comfortable in my own skin. It is what it is.

Events of my past:

*    A local Deputy Sheriff came up to me recently and said, “Where were you between four and six?” I said, “Kindergarten.” He didn't find that too awfully humorous. Myself, I'm still rolling on the ground laughing my Finnish ass off. Like I have said before - the local cops up here have no sense of humor at all. Here's an example. One day I was at our local bar. The Sheriff's sub-station is right there - actually sharing an interior wall, that's how close it is. I, being a woman of no substantial sound judgment wanted to turn the tables on whomever this Deputy was who was in the sub-station. My grandkids had just visited the prior week-end and I just happened to have sidewalk chalk in my coat pocket. I marked his tires. All four of them. Yeah, he came into the bar asking who the hell did it. Too my surprise, nobody gave me up. I was impressed. Locals hiding the retired x-cop’s mischief from the on duty cop. Had he investigated this little act of vandalism a little closer he would have found chalk residue on the perp - me. Chalk residue - kind of convincing - as convincing as GSR (gun shot residue).  Yeah I love to mess with people.
A long time ago, when I first moved to this little mountain town I met a Deputy whose last name was Short. Seriously the name was fitting as this man could hardly see over his patrol unit's steering wheel. I kid you not. I tried to be friends with him but something went wrong. Thinking back on it, I now realize that it must have been when I asked him if he needed a 'booster chair' for his patrol car. No sense of humor at all. Hey, I'm short too, and I don't take offense to any short jokes. I'm seriously happy that he no longer patrols up here anymore; I swear he had it in for me. Just because I'm an x-Deputy, that doesn't mean I have to like all the other cops out there, and I don't.  I've never seen a lazier bunch of ....well, let's stop right here before I get myself into trouble.
 *duct tape on mouth now* 

*   OMG…!!! So, there I was in the public restroom at Costco and I had barely sat down when I heard a woman's voice in the next stall:
“Hi, how are you?”
Me:  (obviously embarrassed) “Doin’ just fine!”
Stall: “So, what are you up to?”
Me: “What the hell! Are you serious?”
Stall: “Can I come over?”
Me: (with my Finnish attitude) “Are you F-ing kidding me?????”
Stall: “Listen, I’ll have to call you back. There's some freak in the other stall who keeps answering all my questions”

Do people take their cell phones everywhere they go nowadays? I hope I don't get a call from someone on my cell phone and hear a toilet flush in the background. Don't do that to me. Post it on Facebook instead. I am not on Facebook. Just spare me. 
I guess it could have been worse, right? It could have been 'stall' asking me if I could spare a square. Incidentally I never spare a square. Don't ask. If you go in there UN-prepared, that’s on you. Which brings to mind....Why are there so many commercials for toilet paper? Who is NOT buying it?

*   I spent all of yesterday painting some kick ass flames on a truck. I hope my neighbor, who owns it, was stoked when he came out of the house and saw it. He works for  Cal-Fire.  I put a lot of time and effort into it. Sometimes I just can not stop my creativeness. I get compelled to do things. It’s my OCD. Fact of life.


As always, I like to end my blog on a joke.

Obama.

Back from my non-existant vacation

 A good friend doesn’t just make you smile, they make you happy. The biggest mistake you can make is to drift apart from someone, who you once had the time of your life with. Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave and impossible to forget. My long time friend Savana told me to get off my ass and do my blog. In all fairness to Savana she did not say 'ass'....I threw that in for emphasis (some days the supply of available curse words is insufficient to meet my demands). When it comes to swearing I have to do it for the two of us because she doesn't. She's my religious friend. I do not have many. She and I have a understanding. We respect each others beliefs. It is too bad all the other people in the world couldn't be more like the two of us. There would be no more religious wars. People could just get along.  Yeah, I do have a friend that loves me even though I am a pantheist. In all the years we have known one another, (since our teen years) our beliefs, or differing beliefs, have never hindered our friendship, and never will.  In the event one does not know what Pantheism is, perhaps the statement of "Nature is my God" sums it up best.....with the word God here meaning not some supernatural being, but an object of deepest personal reverence.  I belong to the forest, in the forest.   I find it difficult to imagine anything more worthy of my love and devotion than the beauty of nature and the absolute power of the Universe.  My thoughts are along the line of Whitman, Thoreau, Einstein, Emerson and Frank Lloyd Wright.  Speechless when viewing a meteor shower, speechless when seeing the beauty of nature. I know Savana views nature and the Universe with the same passion as myself, it's just that we have taken different paths in our  'viewing'.

And now - on to my blog.  People all around the world are out doing interesting and productive things right now. You are reading this. I have not done a blog for over a year.  Busy. Writing a book.

"Dijon found himself spread upon a bed of lettuce atop a thin slice of turkey breast…enveloped by steamy buns…garnished with a sweet, sweet pickle"…  Excerpt from my new book “50 SHADES OF GREY POUPON.” Whatcha think so far? In fact, I ran out of paper and had to make a trip to Target. Accidentally wore a red shirt and khaki pants to Target  and, long story short, (Truth is, it’s not a “long story”…  I’m just too damn lazy to explain it) I think I have been promoted to assistant manager. Btw, to the woman with 4 unruly and screaming kids at Target - if you’re wondering how that box of condoms got into your cart… You’re welcome.

I saw a video of some polar bears drinking water yesterday on YouTube. It’s obviously fake. Everybody knows they only drink Coca-Cola… especially this time of the year! Which brings me to mind - I still have patches of frozen snow on the ground from the pre-Christmas storm. We had a very white Christmas. It fell. It froze. A lot of it. It's the first time in all the years I have lived here I failed to snow-blow my driveway and I suffered because of it. Solid ice. I can't even tell you how many times I fell on my ass just because I had to haul firewood from the woodshed. Even the dogs realized they couldn't just take off running because they were sliding everywhere. Dogs that looked like sleds. Funny at times, but thankfully no injuries because of it.  Christmas 2013 is sure going to be different in Washington and Colorado, doncha think? Santa is REALLY going to love those cookies! I bet a lot of brownies will be left out also.  I don't know much about Colorado, but being a Washingtonian, I would never have imagined my home state as being so liberal. I guess you learn new things everyday. For example, it has been brought to my attention that the stick figure decals on the back windows of vehicles are NOT pedestrian “kill” scores, but, actually are meant to represent members of your family. I’ll be removing mine A.S.A.P. to avoid any further confusion.

I love how it’s February and no one even cares about the end of the world anymore. Weren't we all supposed to die last December or was that cancelled? I think on December 21, 2012 all the power companies in the world should have shut off the power for like 10 minutes just to make people freak out! When I’m on my death bed, I want my final words to be “I left one million dollars in the...." Or better yet, I’m going to leave $50 in my will to whoever will wear a Grim Reaper costume to my funeral and stand there completely silent. In all honesty I am pretty sure my last words will be either “I wonder what this does…” or “no way - you put YOUR gun down.”

I am still patiently waiting for one of Taylor Swift’s ex-boyfriends to write a song called “Maybe You’re the Problem, Bitch”. It will reach number 1 on the charts, guaranteed. When Harry Styles and Taylor Swift broke up did she write a song called, “I Went In The Wrong Direction?”  Seriously, I just unfollowed Taylor Swift on Twitter. I’m expecting a song within a day.  Even more seriously I would never follow her on Twitter - I can't stand that vengeful little brat. If any of her songs play on the radio I turn it off. I don't even think she sings well.  But - that's my opinion. Give me Miranda Lambert any ole' day. I suppose If everybody was happy in relationships there wouldn’t be any good country music. Taylor takes it too far, humiliating people the way she does. Here's my advice Taylor - Live for what tomorrow has to offer, not what yesterday has taken away. If you carry the bricks from your past relationship(s) to the new one you will build the same house.  There are no perfect relationships. Relationships are harder now because: Conversation becomes text, arguments become phone calls, and feelings becomes tweets/status updates. If you want a perfect relationship watch a Hallmark movie.

Speaking of movies,  I often worry that mankind is going to start World War III solely because we enjoy trilogies. And I gotta ask, what is with all this crazy programming on TV nowadays? You’ll never see me on Hoarders because I can’t afford that much crap. In fact, that’s my only  question watching the show… where do they get the money for this crap? I have actually only watched the show once. I couldn't even finish watching it. I was compelled to get up immediately and dust, vacuum, wash windows, and even bathe the 4 dogs. It's times like these that I don't mind being OCD at all.  Get hoarders addicted to crack, they’ll sell off all their crap. Boom, problem solved. Now, when it comes to Storage Wars, If I ever have to put stuff in storage I’m going to write “gold bars” and “priceless memorabilia” on the boxes just to mess with storage wars. I do admit I enjoy watching the Bachelor. It's hilarious.  Where else can you see all these women who have fake hair, nails, eyelashes, breasts, lips, butts, as well as a fake tan who have the nerve to show up on TV to vie for a real man? Beware of TV.  It has the power to turn things like storage, parking and cupcakes into wars.

I wonder what it is that I did to get reincarnated as me. I wonder who or what I was in my past life? Do I even want to know? What if the light we see at the end of the tunnel when we die is really us just being pushed out of the womb into our next life?
When I think about the past I kind of feel disappointed. Things that slipped through our ancestor's fingers, so to speak. Specifically my great great great grandparents for not buying a town when they cost $5.00!

I love people who have a sense of humor. And good construction skills.

This farmer was denied a permit to build a horse shelter for his mini-horses.  So he built a giant table and  chairs which didn't need a permit. Gotta love that man's gumption and his will to win. I especially love the nice touch of the colorful tablecloth and flowers! I still wonder though, exactly why he was denied a permit to build a horse shelter. True or false? Photo shopped?

My thoughts for the day, random as they may be:

Hey Scientists: Less sheep cloning and more making our world look like The Jetsons.  Please!

Use your smile to change this world. Don’t let this world change your smile.

I wouldn't mind at all if I could have drinks and bullshit with James Earl Jones and Morgan Freeman.

If I ever traveled thousands of light years to a planet inhabited by intelligent life, I want to just make patterns in their crops and leave.

Apple introduced the new iPad Mini. What is that, for those light days?

When I was kid, my social network was called “outside”.  And I loved it.

If the caller I.D. reads ‘unavailable’, then so am I.  Hey person calling me from a "blocked" number, I’m not answering you either.  Ever.

Time travel isn’t as fun as it was in 2149.

1. Denial 2. Anger 3. Bargaining 4. Depression 5. Acceptance……… My five stages of buying gas in the State of California.

If I ever get arrested, my one phone call will be to the jail to do a bomb scare. I’m not spending the night there. No way.

If you  set your “life goals” to stuff you have already done - literally every day you would be overachieving. It’s all about perspective.

I should run for political office just to see what kind of scandalous dirt they dig up. It would be nice to piece together my twenties.

If my life ever seems boring I just remember that I am on a rock floating in outer space. That is hella exciting.

Grandchildren have so much energy because they siphon it out of their grandparents like tiny gasoline thieves.

I’m afraid of a world run by people who were never spanked as a kid and given a trophy just for participating.

My goal is to be just the right amount of crazy to make everyone else doubt their sanity.

The best revenge is living a kick ass life.

I mean, really, the sinking of the Titanic must have been a miracle to the lobsters in the kitchen.  Anyone agree?


Now I am off to rescue some wine, it appears to be trapped in a bottle. Until next time.

Saturday's Musings

Some people are like trees, they take forever to grow up. I am feeling young at heart so I figure I am just a sapling in a grove of very old pine trees. Nah, not pine, redwood.

My Thoughts for the day: 
The best inheritance parents can give their children is a few minutes of their time each day. Especially true when it comes to grandchildren!
I think the only people who appreciate change are babies in wet diapers.
I’m a firm believer that you need only two tools. WD-40 and duct tape.
If I ever become president, everyone will receive a pet unicorn, pink rocket shoes and a dragon to fly.  This is my promise to you.
Some people come into your life as blessings, others come into your life as lessons. Both are valuable.

My Questions for the day: 
Is Mitt actually short for Mittens Romney?
If you hear “I need to talk to you” does that one sentence have the power to make you remember every bad thing you’ve ever done in your life, or is it just me?

My Admissions for today:
If you don’t do some really stupid things when you’re young, you’ll have nothing to smile about when you’re old. I’m smiling a lot nowadays.
I’m actually feeling pretty okay about not accomplishing anything in the year 2011. Oh wait. I survived 2011. I suppose I did in fact accomplish something.
I know my limits. I just don’t pay any attention to them, but I know them.

About the Moon: 

It's said that a full moon can cause people to go crazy. That means the moon has been conducting psychological warfare against us for ages, right? The moon hides in it's own shadow about once a month. This is when it plots against us. Of course anything that can do this is inherently evil. It's every six months or so that it hides in the earths shadow...but then it turns blood red as it unleashes its death rays upon us, the unsuspecting. Since the moon controls the tides, it's responsible for the creation of such evils as tidal waves and surfer dudes. The moon always keeps the same side facing the earth. What is it hiding on the other side? Most scientists agree it's acres and acres of pot. 

You know - we left some moon buggies parked on the moon. I'll bet the hubcaps are missing. 

Always a Washingtonian:  
To my algebra teacher in High School:  “Well, just as I expected - another year gone by and I didn’t use algebra once”.
The banana slug in Washington grows up to 9 inches long. It’s ugly. It’s disgusting. Why am I telling you this? Because I can see it in my mind and I want you to see it in your mind too!
The state flag of Washington has a green background behind a picture of George Washington holding a Starbucks cup of half-caf-double-shot-extra-foam-vanilla-soy cappuccino.
The state flower of Washington is mildew.
Washington produces more apples than any other state in the nation but for some reason, Bill Gates gets really annoyed when you say that in front of him. (Apples, Apples, Apples!)
King County, where I was born and raised is Washington's largest county.  It was originally named  after William  King, who was vice president under President Franklin Pierce. It was "re-named" in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King. Between the original naming and the re-naming it may also have been named in honor of Stephen King, Rodney King, Billie Jean King, and possibly even Sgt. Preston's dog, for all I know.
The oldest continually operating gas station in America is in Zillah, Washington. It hasn't changed much since it opened in 1873, and it still accepts payments by either cash or beaver pelt.
Credence Clearwater Revival had a #1 hit song with "Who'll Stop The Rain?"  I’m pretty damn sure they were singing about my homestate.

My experience with yellow-jackets:  
They tend to build nests where they best piss people off.
While bees will only sting in defense of themselves or their hive, a yellow-jacket will sting you just because he's a f**king jerk.
While many people would think the yellow-jacket is closely related to the bee, I feel it's actually more related to the badger.
While bees collect pollen to make honey for food, I don't know what the hell yellow-jackets eat. I think it's like birds, rodents, and small children.
I am  waging war on the yellow-jackets at my house ever since eight of the little demon spawn attacked me for no reason. Maybe a Super-Soaker full of deadly chemical agents. Aim, spray, then run like Hell. Then later I can return and bash their nest with my ninja sword to my heart's content. Chemical warfare will probably just make them mad or something (not like they aren't that way anyhow). I think I may have to resort to some  tactical nuclear strikes to control the situation.

Wildlife In My Forest: 
If you shoot a bear for stealing your picnic basket, it’s not considered self-defense. Especially if you also shoot and kill his little tag-along.
During a thunderstorm, stay away from Buck deer. Their antlers attract lightning bolts. Each Buck gets struck by lightning an average of eight times per year.

Just wondering......
It is hard for me to understand how a cemetery can raise its burial costs and blame it on the cost of living.
Is George Washington the only president who didn’t blame the previous administration for his troubles?
Are cell phones the only thing men sit around and brag about who’s got the smallest?

I have this obsessive and relentless need to end each blog on a joke. I struggle at trying to tell jokes, because I always start laughing in the middle of them....but here goes.....and yes I do know that I end my blog's on the same joke.

Barack Obama

Final blog of 2011

Here I am ~still in my non-descript dark cave in my undisclosed forest in my undisclosed state. I will not give up my coordinates. Don’t ask. Suffice to say somewhere on a mountain in a "one bar" service area (for both drinks and 3G). Sad yet true.

The last part of December and the first part of January 2011 was pure hell on this forest woman......my male Sheltie pup, Finn, began his epileptic seizures, which sadly was the beginning of the end. He is gone now, but he will never be forgotten. Shadow-Man is gone now too, having passed away in November. Shadow lived a long and happy life, almost 13 years old. It was just me, Skye-Pilot and Kesä for awhile - well, until Shep came into our lives. But that is another story for another time. I just want to get my last blog of 2011 done.

Sooooooooo ~

It’s almost 2012 and we’re not driving dragons? The future sickens me. It’s bad enough that Santa once again forgot to leave my pink rocket shoes under the Christmas tree....again. Again for the last 50 some freak’n years I might add. As I have said before ~ “For the truly wronged, real satisfaction can only be found in one of two places: absolute forgiveness or mortal vindication .....seriously Dude, you don’t want to anger me!” Yes, Santa, you have angered me.

Do I have any New Year’s Resolutions? Nope, my only New Years Resolution, if you can even call it a resolution, is to remember to write “2012" instead of “2011"

My Thoughts for the last day of 2011:

We all know a few people we figure had been dropped as a baby, clearly there are even some who were thrown at the wall.

Just do it tomorrow. You’ve probably made enough mistakes for today and for the year of 2011.

If your dog thinks you’re the greatest person in the world, whatever you do ~ don’t seek a second opinion. Just go with it. Enjoy the moment.

No one can ruin your day without your permission. It’s the last day of this crazy year, don’t let anyone rain on your parade.

The word listen contains the same letters as the word silent. Seriously.

No matter how old you are, an empty Christmas wrapping paper tube is still a light saber.

Apparently the only member of my family with a personal trainer is my dog.

I think the only difference between a yard sale and a trash pickup is how close to the road the stuff is placed.

There are a lot of people out there that use expensive, illegal substances to blur the lines of reality. All I have to do is just take off my reading glasses.

　

My Questions for the day:

How come my cell phone doesn’t have enough battery left to take any pictures, but it has enough battery to keep telling me that it’s low?

Square Box. Round Pizza. Triangle Slices. WTH?

My Admissions for today:

I have never committed a crime. But I will admit I have at times failed to comply with the law. Whatever.

During my ‘teen years’ my parents once accused me of being a liar. I don’t even remember what it was all about. Doesn’t matter. I looked them in the face and said, “Ummm....really? Tooth fairy, Santa, Easter bunny?” and walked away. End of discussion.

Always a Washingtonian:

I grew up with slugs and snails, and one little bit of information I can provide is that a slug is just a snail with a housing problem. Homeless. Homeless slug. That is just freak’n sad.

Just wondering......

It was on July 8, 1947 when witnesses claimed a spaceship with five aliens aboard crashed on a sheep-and-cattle ranch outside Roswell. Obviously this incident was covered up by the military. March 31, 1948, nine months after that day, Al Gore was born. That clears up a lot of things don’t you agree?

I have this obsessive and relentless need to end each blog on a joke.

Barack Obama

Is it Trespassing or is it taking my Pet Fish for a swim?

I am actually quite pleasant...... until I’m awake. Really? Construction at 5:30 am? Nothin’ beats waking up to a backhoe when it’s not even daylight yet. It’s true; there are no laws in the forest.

Who’d thunk it? I told you I’d get back to you about my new hobby of fishing, right? As I mentioned in last month’s blog I used to fish on Whidbey Island in Washington State with my eccentric Uncle Chips. He made me fish. It’s not that I wanted to; he literally made me go with him. I said I was going to be the fisherwoman who would be unable to pass up promising, or even unpromising, water. My plan was to fish everywhere. Bird baths, fish cemetery ponds, decorative fountains, subdivision lakes, golf course ponds. I promised I would blog about my fishing exploits and might even post some photos.

I live real close to a private lake. You can’t fish there unless you own property in that area. Or at least that’s what ‘they’ say. When I took up this new hobby I distinctly said I was going to fish wherever I wanted to fish. Golf courses, fountains, etc. So I went to this lake, Truett Lake, the other day. So as to not incriminate myself, if I say “The other day” it can mean any time from yesterday to 364 days ago. It started out as a bad morning. The moment when you pour your Chai Tea Latte concentrate in a coffee cup, open the fridge, and realize there is no milk. I mean it just doesn’t get much worse than that. (Hello? Hello Neighbor to the west....“Got Milk”?) No milk for my Lucky Charms either. Oh well, threw some of those Lucky Charms into my pocket, grabbed my trusty pink fishing pole and my two buckets and off I went. There was a time that even imagining that a pink fishing rod would even exist was nearly impossible since fishing is a male dominating sport. Not only do I have my pink fishing pole, I’ve got matching accessories... pink tackle boxes, lures, even pink fishing line!

Pruett Lake? Truett Lake? What is it really called? Hell, it doesn’t matter to me, but if it matters to you it can be found at 40.4923782348633 and -121.8891601562500. It’s also called Woodridge Lake. Spent an hour or so there. Hell, why not? I was up ‘before’ the crack of dawn because of some backhoe driver who likes to work in the pitch dark when the rest of the damn forest is sleeping. There I was ~ fishing in a nice little secluded spot when I was approached by a local resident who lives on this lake, and owns the rights to this lake (Big Whoopee!). There I was with two buckets of fish sitting right next to me.

This person asked me "Do you have rights to catch those fish? Do you have a fishing license?"

(Dude, if it is on private property you don't need a license! A better question would be “Are you trespassing”? )

I politely replied to this person, "No, sir. These are my pet fish."

"Pet fish?!"

this fella replied.

"Yes, sir. Every morning I take my pet fish to this lake and let them swim around for a while. I whistle and they jump back into their buckets, and I take em home."

"That's a bunch of bullshit! Fish can't do that!"

I looked at this obviously agitated person and said,

"Here, I'll show you. My fish are highly trained."

"O.K. I've GOT to see this!"

 

I poured my fish into the lake and stood on the banks and waited. After several minutes, this fella looked at me and said, "Well?"

I responded back to him "Well, what?"

"When are you going to call them back?” he asked.

"Call who back?"

I asked.

"The FISH."

"What fish?"

I asked.

I start walking home with my two empty buckets and he’s yelling profanities at me. Whatever Dude. I had some quiet time at the private lake ~ it had been all worth it.

I figure the next time I go over to this private lake I’m going to just sit in a folding chair and catch those fish with pellet fish food. If any of the private lake owners happen by again, I’m just going to explain that I’m feeding my pet fish. Or better yet, I will say that I am ‘thinking’ of purchasing a house in the area but before I do I want to make sure there’s actually fish in this lake I will co-own.

My rules to fish anywhere and everywhere are fairly simple. I don't have to fish every day, but I have to fish somewhere that I can catch a fish. So no fishing in the bathtub or in a rain filled ditch. Sneaking over to a private lake is fun. I will admit though, live bait is sometimes the biggest fish I handle all day long - but hey, I’m fishing. I have found out, by accident mind you, that Lucky Charms cereal works really well ~ especially the marshmallow hearts and stars, and you can snack while you fish. Can’t beat that, can ya? My best tip and before you laugh, please try it... Gummy worms ... cut into 1/3rds. The cost of the bait for a bag 1.99-3.99. You can have a wonderful day on the water and you will catch fish.. .or at least eat the bait.

Next week-end I’m going to fish the water hazards on the golf courses. I have caught a thirteen pound bass from the golf course in .....oh no, can‘t divulge the name. I refuse to cough up a single golf course name, although I will offer this bit of advice: Don't piss off the golfers. You'll ruin it for all of us.

A few rules to follow: Just remember; when you go golf course fishing keep your mouth shut. Always practice catch-and-release. Well, if anyone is watching anyway. Ignore the posted NO FISHING signs. If you see those signs it’s fairly obvious that there ARE fish there! Fish until you're caught, apologize and then leave for good. In other words find a different golf course. Dress appropriately. Khakis and a obnoxious golf shirt will help you blend in. Or a Khaki shirt and obnoxious golf shorts. Doesn’t matter really as long as you wear at least one horrendous item of clothing. My bling adorned pink fishing pole gives me away, so I’m going to have to resort to fishing at night. Night fishing will work better for me anyway. When you partake in daytime golf course fishing, you have to learn ninja badassery because you do a lot of cart dodging and weed hunkering. Those damn golf carts will send you running for cover and most likely you get nailed by a sprinkler that you will fail to notice in time. I have heard some jumps and splashes that sounded like the biggest bass ever, but quickly found out it was one of the golfers who decided to relieve himself in the safety of the shaded area of the pond and then fell in.

There's no denying the thrill of sneaking onto a golf course to fish. Always glancing over your shoulder to the putting greens, wondering if that silver-haired golfer in the horrendous checkered pants and striped shirt will make a call to the sheriff. It’s the thrill I tell ya! The thrill. Not to mention the fact that the Sheriff’s in this particular County don’t respond to anything anyway so it’s a pretty safe bet it won’t matter if you get caught or not. But then again, who knows, maybe that silver-haired golfer in the horrendous checkered pants and striped shirt IS the Sheriff.

My Joke for the day:

A defense attorney in Marin County was cross-examining a Deputy Sheriff during a felony trial. It went like this:

Q. Deputy, did you see my client fleeing the scene?
A. No sir, but I subsequently observed a person matching the description of the offender running several blocks away.

Q. Deputy, who provided this description?
A. The Deputy who responded to the scene.

Q. A fellow Deputy provided the description of this so- called offender. Do you trust your fellow officers?
A. Yes sir, with my life.

Q. With your life? Let me ask you this then Deputy - do you have a locker room in the Sheriff’s Office - a room where you change your clothes in preparation for your daily duties?
A. Yes sir, we do.

Q. And do you have a locker in that room?
A. Yes sir, I do.

Q. And do you have a lock on your locker?
A. Yes sir.

Q. Now why is it, Deputy, if you trust your fellow officers with your life, that you find it necessary to lock your locker in a room you share with those same officers?
A. You see sir, we share the building with a court complex, and sometimes lawyers have been known to walk through that room.

With that, the Marin County courtroom erupted in laughter, and a prompt recess was called.


My thoughts for the day:

One body. One mind. That's what each of us gets to last a lifetime.

We live in the “WTF” generation. (W)ikipedia, (T)witter, (F)acebook.

Ever wonder why those two animals, the bull and the bear, were chosen to represent the stock market? My theory is because Wall Street will feed you all the bull you can bear.

My Advice for the day:

Party every day that begins with the letter T.

Tuesday and Thursday?

Nah, TODAY and TOMMOROW!



My BITCH for the day:
As I have said in a much earlier blog ~ all I want in this world is to have some one I can turn to and yell, “Avenge Me!!” if I’m dying or wrongly accused of a crime. Or any injustice for that matter.

Oh, and rocket shoes. Pretty pink rocket shoes. I have asked for pink rocket shoes ever since I have been 5. The Christmas tree has always been void of pink rocket shoes. I also asked for pink cowgirl boots one Christmas, but did I get them? NO! Was it because Santa could not find the matching pink pony that I also asked for? I’m losing faith in this fat guy named Santa. Yet......yes, once again I will be asking Santa for my pretty pink rocket shoes again this year. This is your last year to do right Santa. For the truly wronged, real satisfaction can only be found in one of two places: absolute forgiveness or mortal vindication .....seriously Dude, you don’t want to anger me!

My confession(s) for the day:
I just took a shower. Nobody and I mean nobody has any idea just how hard it was to sneak that thing out of Home Depot.

My plans for this weekend are so top secret even I don't know what they are.

You know when I use LOL or LMAO or ROFL I’m just sitting here with a straight face, right? It’s only when I use ROFLMFinnishAO that I am totally serious.

I am just making stuff up now.

Until next time.....remember......

If you didn’t get caught, did you really do it? If you didn’t post it to Facebook, did it really happen? Was any of this blog even factual?

Just a whole lot of 'Whatever'

Still in my non-descript dark cave in an undisclosed forest in an undisclosed state. I will not give up my coordinates. Don’t ask. Some secrets are best left un-Twittered and un-Facebooked.

I’m not myself today. I noticed the improvement immediately. Proud of myself because I survived yet another day. I’m on quite a roll here.

To begin I have to admit that I have not ‘bludgeoned’ Facebook lately. I will now. What I don’t miss about Facebook? Reading someone’s status and thinking ‘OH CRY ME A RIVER’. Let’s be honest ~ when life gives you lemons, most of you just cry to Facebook or Twitter about it. Some of my family and friends have become hardcore Facebook addicts, but I won’t begrudge them. There are worse things they could become, I suppose. A Human Trafficker, a Meth dealer, a UPS delivery-man groupie, a Twitterer. Still, it's unsettling. I’m thinking of doing an ‘Intervention’ for a few of them. I placed an ad on EBay for my old account: Face book account for sale, Friends included. So far, absolutely no offers.

As 2010 morphed into this one, I, like so many others, held out hope that 2011 would be better than 2010, though not as good as 2000. Because why set yourself up for disappointment? 2011 got off to an unpromising start and just stayed there - unpromising. What bothers me is the passing of our familiar ways. Things that are familiar to me yet will be unfamiliar to my grandchildren - quicker than one can imagine. The changes are everywhere. Blockbuster, which very easily killed out the mom and pop video-stores, is now a victim itself. A victim of the recession and Netflix and those pitiful Redbox vending machines that deliver movies as though they were a Diet Dr. Pepper. So many items on the extinction list. I’m thinking the things children born today won’t recognize in their ‘tomorrow’ are: video stores, catalogs, commercial radio, travel agents, maps, watches, encyclopedias, yellow pages, retirement plans, books, newspapers, knowing how to actually write a letter, and even the United States Post Office. Even “hiding” will be impossible, since even right now your phone is not only in your pocket, it can potentially tell everyone—Big Brother included—exactly where you are at any given time. So I suppose the word ‘privacy’ will be extinct also.

Trying to stay on top of all the changes - when informed, say, that stirrup pants are out, I’m eternally grateful, skinny jeans are on their way out, well—neither were all that flattering on me anyway. Flare pants are back in? Let me think about that one. I reckon I don’t have any worries about any fashion changes - I’m a jeans and denim person. Always have been. Always will be. Something about jeans - they have never gone out of style. Sure, jeans now have bling on them, fancy pockets, what have you, but the original Levi’s and Wrangler’s are here to stay - forever. Once again, I am eternally grateful.

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been acutely aware of time’s passage, and my inability to halt it, but I want 2012 to be different. Maybe this will be the year, 2012, I’ll try to be ’nice’ to everyone or even let my aged neighbor out of my padlocked tool shed—we’ll see how it goes.

We’re just a few months away from the start of primary elections and 14 months until the general election. Crap, there goes my TV programming. I like Gary Johnson’s (New Mexico x-governor) remark of “My next-door neighbor's two dogs have created more shovel-ready jobs than this current administration”. This guy has brass ‘ones’. Paying attention to this contender. The underdog candidate.

On the last Election Day, I woke up early, made my way down to the polling place, a local Church, in the pouring rain like all the other heroes in my town and said hello to some friends in the Republican tent in the Church parking lot, who were passing out donuts and literature. Wasn‘t interested in the literature, but I grabbed two of those donuts. I voted that year, just not for president. As for president, I left my ballot beautifully, gloriously blank. No vote is a vote too. Ok, I lied. But I am only lying about the getting up early and going to the polling place. I’m not an idiot. I’m an absentee voter, I mail my votes in. In my case, my vote was a vote of no-confidence in the available candidates. I voted my conscience and I felt good about my non-decision. Probably a waste of a postal stamp though.

I’m thinking of taking up fishing. I used to fish on Whidbey Island with my eccentric Uncle Chips. He made me fish. It’s not that I wanted to; he literally made me go with him. I was a kid who swam in the creek with my slimy whiskered friends, the salmon, even splashing about with them in the fish ladders. I was not one who wanted to catch them. Time to change. I will be the fisherman, well, actually the fisherwoman who will be unable to pass up promising, or even unpromising, water. Catch and release of course. I will carry my trusty fishing pole with me everywhere. (Does anyone know where I can get a bling adorned pink fishing pole?) Real fisherwomen don't let the perfect be the enemy of the readily available and will fish whatever water lies before them. Seriously. If you have a birdbath in your yard, call me, I'll rush right over. I’m serious about this fishing. I've going to fish cemetery ponds, office-park fountains, and subdivision lakes that have decorative fountains. I’m going to fish the golf courses. I'll no doubt have some verbal matches with golfers. Golfers are cranky by nature. They’ll yell at me to move so as not to get a Titleist implanted in my blonde skull. I will then yell back that they have 17 other damn holes to play, whereas the largemouth bass I’ll be stalking lives in the particular water hazard they want me to leave. Stay tuned, I will blog about my Fishing exploits. I may even post some photos.

My Saturday Thoughts:
There are three kinds of lies. 1. Lies 2.Damned Lies 3. Facebook Statuses

The reason children ask so many questions is because they have an extra why chromosome.

Vacation is what you take when you can’t take what you’ve been taking any longer.

I really REALLY hate to see my loved ones leave home. I also miss my fives, tens and twenty’s.

I don’t think our economy has turned around so much as it has backed over us and parked. Several times.

I guess what I’m proudest of the most is my ability to make the tough choices ~ in hypothetical situations. I’ve made enough tough choices in real life to not ever have to make those choices again. I have full-filled my quota. Hypothetical is the only way to go.

Dolphins are so smart that within a few weeks of captivity, they can actually train stupid people to stand on the very edge of the pool and throw them fish!

　
My Saturday Complaints:
In my opinion those ‘energy saving’ light-bulbs are crap. They take just as much effort and time to screw in as the ordinary ones.

It’s been a lifetime struggle for me to stop spending my lifetime struggling.

Even though both of my parents have been gone for a number of years now, I’m still upset to learn that my Mom hid my acceptance letter from Hogwarts! She hid it from my father also. He would have been proud. Damn proud.

My Saturday Advice:
Remember ~ when it comes to affairs of the heart; always try to avoid EMT’s, electric paddles and the word “CLEAR !”

You do not need a parachute to skydive. You only need a parachute to skydive twice.

Every once in awhile walk outside, look up, and smile for a satellite picture. It will make somebody else smile - don’t know who - but it will.

My Saturday Question:

It’s quite possible some of my best mistakes haven’t been made yet. I’ve made so many in my life ~ so now I am willing to make the mistakes if someone else is willing to learn from them. Got any ideas of the new mistakes I should be making?

An ad I found in the personals:
Dear Noah, Hey! We could have sworn you said the ark wasn’t leaving till 5. WTH?
Sincerely, Unicorns.

Ok, now I am bored. Going to DEFCON 4.

Before I go, I want to share a photo of my neighbor’s dog, Cassie, with my dog, Kesä. Cassie is willing to take Kesä trick or treating this year. As you can imagine, Kesä is pretty excited.

An update on my quit smoking attempt: 1 Month, 3 weeks, 2 Days, 16 hours, 40 minutes. May not seem like much of an accomplishment to some, but for someone who has smoked since she was 14 - it's a HELL of an accomplishment.

Road Trip'n

Well, here I am blogging from my underground command post. Deep in the bowels of a mountain. Somewhere under the dirt, rock and darkness of a nondescript cave, known as home.

Just returned from a road trip. I think I‘ve been in the snow tooooo long, and quite frankly getting a little tired of it. I found myself thinking about the ocean. I think the best thing about living at the ocean would be that you would only have jerks on three sides of you. Ya just can't beat that. But on the way to the ocean I got side-tracked, so to speak.

Left California and went to Oregon.
Planned on stopping and seeing Doug and Vickie but some of those signs I saw on I-5 as soon as I crossed the California-Oregon border had me a little concerned since I’m driving a truck with California plates. In Ashland, it was It's OR-EE-GUN, you stupid Californians and in Medford it was Oregon: Separating Washington and California for over 150 Years. In Eugene it was Oregon is as Pretty as California, but not as Screwed-up. In Salem it was Don’t Cali -fornicate Oregon,

and last but not least, in Portland it was Spotted Owl, It's What's For Dinner. Crossed the Columbia river into Vancouver, Washington.

You know - the other Vancouver. Finally ! A nice sign. Entering Washington.

Stopped to visit Savana in Tacoma but she wasn't home.
In Seattle. Already thinking about my Seattle Starbucks coffee. Ok, one hand on my Starbucks latte, one knee on wheel, cradling my cell phone, foot on brake, mind on Mariner’s game, trying to outrun the raindrops. Thinking I really should have bought new windshield wipers. Truck is getting a decent wash though. The abundance of slugs makes the highways pretty slippery. Just passed a pedestrian. I guess it’s true - they do wear socks with sandals. I should  head over to Port Ludlow and visit my cousin Aldeen. The ferry lines are too long. (Don't listen to anyone if you hear about me in the State of Washington Aldeen, it was a doppelganger, really, it was!)  Heading to Bellingham and then onward north to Canada.
Now in Vancouver. British Columbia not Washington State. Still raining.

Driving like a Canuk now. Canadian beer in one hand, British Columbia Weed in the other. . Hockey sticks hanging out the rear window.
Just drove the Al-Can highway. Now in Anchorage, Alaska. One gloved hand on wheel, one hand on heater, feet up underneath my butt to keep warm, neither foot on accelerator or brakes because with all the ice on the roads, we’re all moving at the same speed either way. Waaay too cold up here.

Have to head back down to Washington, then head east into Idaho. Feeling a craving for a Idaho spud - twice baked.

In Idaho now.

Trying to appear to be a Idahoan. I am driving my Four-wheel drive Chevy truck, shotgun mounted in rear window, beer cans on floor, squirrel tails attached to the antenna. That was a quick trip.
Just crossed over the Montana State line.

Land of the Big Sky, and the Unabomber. Haven’t been in Montana since the early 1970’s. Hasn’t changed much. Got one finger on the steering wheel of my 4x4 Chevy truck, Charlie Daniels blaring from the speakers, dead coyote in back, my saddle thrown over a hay bale, hay leaves blowing out of the truck bed while going down the highway. Fitting right in. Might as well drop down to Wyoming since I’m this close.
Not sure I am going to stop in Wyoming. Wynot? Where Men Are Men... and the sheep are scared? Keep driving.

Maybe I should head towards Utah or Nevada. What to do, what to do? That would seem like back-tracking. I’m already seeing signs for Nevada. Whores and Poker! Neither one appeal to me.
Nah, I’ll just head towards South Dakota so I can get to Minnesota. Lots of Finns in Minnesota.

Just crossed into Minnesota. Seeing lots of freeway signs that say: Home of the Blonde Hair and Blue Ears. I think a more appropriate sign would be 4 seasons: Almost winter, Winter, Still Winter and Always Winter.
Now I have to go through Iowa to get to Missouri. Have a friend in Missouri I wish to visit, but first I have to get through Iowa. Both hands on wheel, eyes shut, both feet on brake, quivering in terror...just saw a highway sign that said We Do Amazing Things With Corn ~ just don't ask. In Missouri, I’m now seeing freeway signs that say Your Federal Flood Relief Tax Dollars at Work. It’s raining like Washington State. Should I be concerned? Now seeing Show Me State.

Yeah, umm....you show me yours and I'll show you my rifle.
Nice visit with Valrie, but now it’s time to head on to Massachusetts to visit my Finnish cousin Wilho.
Valrie has decided she wants to join me on this road trip. We have to travel through a lot of states to get to Florida !
The freeway signs in Illinois read: Gateway to Iowa and Please Don't Pronounce the "S". I’m driving with one hand on wheel, one hand on horn.
Not sure if I understand these signs in Indiana though - 2 Billion Years Tidal Wave Free. My favorite freeway signs so far? The ones in Ohio. Don't Judge Us by the Cleveland Indians and At Least We're Not Michigan. Now in Pennsylvania we’re not seeing many cars. Most of the drivers in this state have one hand on the reins, and one hand on the whip. A lot of horse s*it on the roads.

Yet they have highway signs that say Cook With Coal. Feeling kind of excited about driving into New York. I’ve always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. The first thing my grandparents saw when they came to America. Just got into New York. Valrie told me that I should be driving like a native New Yorker ~ so now I’m driving with one hand on the wheel and one finger out the window. She must be right, because nobody is objecting to this form of driving etiquette.

Now we just entered Massachusetts. Just drove by a sign that read Our Taxes Are Lower Than Sweden's (For Most Tax Brackets), with a smaller sign right below it - Now with 30% Fewer Kennedy’s. Driving in Boston with one hand on wheel, one hand on newspaper, foot solidly on accelerator, just like the native folks. Nice visit with my cousin Wilho. Love his Massachusetts accent and his Finnish humor.
Valrie suggested we head on down to Texas. Hey, no problem. First we have to stop and see my other Finnish cousin in Florida. Have to cover a lot of states in order to get to Florida. The signs in North Carolina: Tobacco is a Vegetable. Valrie is cracking up at the signs in South Carolina. Remember the Civil War? We Didn't Actually Surrender and Hook up for Free at One of Our Lovely Trailer Parks.
Finally, we are in Florida. Before we visit my cousin, we decide to stop for lunch. Sitting on the truck’s tailgate we were watching drivers entering the freeway. Two hands gripping the wheel, blue hair barely visible above window level, driving 35 on the Interstate in the left lane with the left blinker on, bumper stickers that says: My Grandchildren are cuter than yours. Valrie just noticed we’re parked under a sign that reads: Go Away and Leave Us Alone we're busy enjoying our 82 degree winter.After visiting with Alan we were on our way to Texas.
Once in Texas we were wearing our cowboy hats and s*it-kickers, and I let Valrie drive. One hand on wheel, one hand on the hunting rifle, alternating between both feet being on the accelerator and both feet on the brake, throwing a McDonald's bag out the window. Stopped for gas and an attendant said “Si' Hablo Ing'les.” We were a little confused at first. Thought maybe we made a wrong turn.
From Texas, we went to New Mexico. The freeway signs were awesome! Signs everywhere saying Cleaner than Old Mexico and Less Bodies in the Sandbox.
From New Mexico we crossed into Arizona.

Not much to say but ....It’s a Dry Heat. No doubt about that.
Back into California. Decide to slip into Mexico. The real Mexico. We're close, we can tell by this sign:

Valrie is driving. We’re smart enough to not drive my own truck in Mexico.

We’re driving a rental car in Mexico. She’s got one hand on the wheel, one hand on a gun resting between her legs, we’re both wearing bullet poof vest’s. We’re hearing chunks of rust falling off the vehicle, by the pound. All we wanted to do was have some tequila with the worm in it.

Accomplished that and off we went - back into California. I keep wondering - why hasn’t anyone even thought to look in San Diego for Carmen Sandiego? Think about it, it’s a little too obvious. Which means it’s perfect. And what about Waldo? I'm more inclined to think that Waldo is hiding because he's behind on his child support payments.
In Southern California, Valrie is still driving. One hand on wheel, one hand on nonfat double decaf cappuccino, holding her cell phone, brick on accelerator with gun in lap. A true California driver. We drive by a Honda dealership sign that says Our Honda’s have less plastic than our women . In Los Angeles, we notice that the other drivers have one hand on a laptop computer, one hand at on-board navigation/Internet console installed in the dash board, cell phones attached to their heads with a microphone earpiece, probably having a executive meeting with half a dozen people on their speaker phone, palm pilot wedged between their knees to observe up to date stock quotes, and their shoes kicked off, and feet crossed because traffic hasn't moved in the past hour.
Just drove by a medical center that had a sign on the door that read: Sorry, no Medical Marijuana for non-residents. Don’t ask. And yet another sign on Interstate 5 says If You Can Dream It, We Can Tax It. 
Valrie, for a Missouri woman is doing a good job of driving in California., at least she isn’t aiming for pedestrians who have the mistaken notion that crosswalks are for them like most Californian’s do.
All in all - a nice little ‘get-away’. Now that we are back home at my place, I need to tell Valrie that I don’t have an airport near me........that we passed the only airport about 3 hours ago. Not sure just how this Missouri woman is going to get home ~ I’m a little tired of driving. Understandable, right?
　
　
Oh, before I forget - things my parents taught me:

My Father taught me MEDICAL SCIENCE -
"If it was anything to worry about you would have bled to death by now”

My Mother taught me to THINK AHEAD -
“You’re moving out when you turn 18, right?”

My Mother taught me about GENETICS -
"You're just like your father."

My Mother taught me about my ROOTS -
"Do you think you were born in a barn?"

My Father taught me about WISDOM OF AGE -
"When you get to be my age, you will understand."

And my all time favorite from my Mother -  JUSTICE -
"One day you'll have kids ... and I hope they turn out just like you!"

Thanks Mom, they did ! I wasn't a bad kid - you just didn't understand me.

”Knock, knock!” “Who’s there?” “Irish.” “Irish who?” “Irish you a happy St. Patrick’s Day!”

St Patrick’s Day. The day people celebrate Irishness, real or imagined. I’m 25% Irish but I don’t celebrate this day. Green beer, wearing of green clothing, and parades. A holiday with firm Irish religious roots that also allows anyone to get drunk and make a fool of themselves on a weekday. A day that people, Irish or not, have already planned their celebratory feasts, drinking binges, to be followed by subsequent hangover days spent eating Lucky Charms in their underwear. I won’t be celebrating St. Patrick’s Day with my gang of leprechauns. Now if it was a holiday to honor Neil PATRICK Harris, he’s amazing. ...he’s ‘awesomeness’, then I’d join right in. I’d be right there to say “ It’s St. Patrick’s Day, we need to include green beer and drinking at 10am to our plans!”

My Irish ancestors showed their appreciation of their native land in the usual Irish way by getting out of it as soon as they possibly could. I come from an Irish Mother who was 50% Irish and 50% Welsh. With this mix, she had one hella temper. But.....St. Patrick's Day was a big holiday in my house. The night before my brothers and I would hang up our stockings and in the morning they'd be full of beer. We would always have my Mother’s Irish Beef and Potato Stew. I’m not sure if that stew was in remembrance of the great potato famine in Ireland that sent many of my ancestors to America or not, but it was a ‘given’, my Mom’s stew on St. Patrick’s Day. As I think back, even though I tired of that stew and I barely let a stew touch my lips today, I am ever so thankful she never choked that corned beef and cabbage down our throats. My Irish ancestors would probably disown me for saying this, but I hate corned beef and cabbage. I don't like either one that much alone, and together, they're even worse. In fairness to my mother’s cooking of the Beef Stew I will quickly add that I also hated my father’s Lutefisk, (lipeäkala) which being a Finn I was forced to eat at least twice in my life. I am a self proclaimed ‘picky-as-hell-eater’ and I would gladly eat worms and insects before I would eat lutefisk. Well, heck, I have eaten worms and insects. I draw the line on lutefisk. I can still hear my father’s voice "Just have a little Sis, it’s a Finnish delicacy.” For non-Finns, lutefisk is a dried whitefish (cod) prepared with lye. Hardly considered a culinary delight. My grandparents left Finland to escape being "Russified''. Personally myself, I think it's quite possible they were really trying to escape lutefisk. I understand that my poor ancestors ate lutefisk to stay alive during those cold long hungry winters, but it remains a mystery to me why they brought it with them to America. This is the land of milk and honey, right?  I don't see lutefisk as having a reason to be here.  I can go no further on the subject of lutefisk  if I wish to eat anything at all today.

Who's this Patrick anyway? The patron saint of liquor distributors? Here's the real truth, he didn't get rid of snakes in Ireland. He just got rid of the ones he was seeing. It is a known fact that he was born in Britain in the 4th century. A Roman. The list of Irish saints is long, but in that list no other figure is so human, friendly, and lovable as St. Patrick who was an Irishman ~ only by adoption. When the Irish say that St. Patrick chased the snakes out of Ireland, what they don’t tell you is that he was the only one who saw any snakes! My theory: If St. Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland, I think they swam to Washington D.C. and ended up in the White House.

In fairness to St. Patrick's Day I will admit that I didn’t celebrate St. Urho’s Day yesterday either. That’s a Finnish patron saint. Ok, I admit, a completely made-up saint. I should have been sitting around wearing the purple and green with a wine glass in my hand. Finnish legend says St. Urho chased the grasshoppers out of ancient Finland, thus saving the grape crop and the jobs of Finnish vineyard workers. He did this by uttering the phrase:

“Heinäsirkka, heinäsirkka, mene täältä hiiteen”

roughly translated:

 “Grasshopper, grasshopper, go to Hell!”

Finns. They are so blunt. No mincing of the words.  “Go to Hell”...I love it.

So in essence on March 16th St. Urho drove the grasshoppers out of Finland. On March 17th St. Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland. Copycat! The Finnish people were sick of the green beer and Irish hoopla in March, and decided they needed their own holiday on March 16th. The St. Urho tradition is carried on in many Finnish communities, sometimes merely as an excuse to add an extra day of rowdy celebration to the St. Patrick’s Day festivities. We all know, well, us Finns anyway, that Finns love to party. When it comes down to partying, the Finns run away with the prize. They devote themselves to the serious business of 'enjoying themselves.' In many Finnish-American communities St. Urho’s Day IS the celebration, and St. Pat’s feast day is merely an afterthought, the day to sleep off the hangover. Gotta love the Finns for making up their own holiday. And why not? All holidays are basically made up and/or have changed incredibly over the centuries. Why not celebrate that which is fake?

How funny, now I am soooooo thinking of my Irish mother and my Finnish father ~ two very head-strong people from very different backgrounds. And all of a sudden I am sooooooo smelling my mother's beef stew! This is not my imagination.  

　

　

So, here’s my question: Why isn’t our beer color coordinated for all holiday occasions, instead of just St. Patricks Day? Why not red beer for Christmas? Red beer for Valentines Day? Green beer for Earth Day? Orange beer for Halloween? Red, white and blue beer for the Fourth of July? Pretty pastel pink beer for Easter?

St. Patrick's Day: The one day of the year when the meaning of 'Going Green'  shifts from saving the environment to polluting our major organs. The one day where full blown alcoholism could possibly go undetected. The day that  we worship someone who possibly banished non-existent snakes from Ireland.

Yeah, yeah, I am Irish. No harm. No foul. No harm/no foul to any of the Irish. Irish can laugh at themselves. I laugh at myself all the time. I credit that to being both Irish and Finn.

In celebration of St. Patty's Day I will watch Leonardo DiCaprio, Daniel Day-Lewis, and Liam Neeson in the movie GANGS OF NEW YORK. I will remember the sad fact that the Irish men immigrating to America were enlisted into the army as soon as they stepped off the boat. That was just so wrong America! They had not even been given the chance to complete their 'declaration of intention' of even becoming an American citizen before you sent them off to war!

What? No facebook slamming? Ahhhh, what the hell. Now that I said that, ever notice that ‘What the hell’ is always the right decision? Ok, here it is:

 Facebook is a substitute for real human interaction, which explains its popularity. People just don't want to interact anymore.  So, you 'Facebooker's' out there in Facebookland,  send me an email once in awhile. Let me know you're alive. I never hear from you anymore. I'm not going to mention names. You know who you are.

The forecast for American's celebrating St. Patrick's Day today: Mostly drunk with a slight chance of passing out. It's OK, I pick on Cinco de Mayo also. I wouldn't celebrate that day if you gave me a million bucks! Something about watching the many illegals celebrate being in their hated America, waving their Mexican flags, drinking Corona beer makes me sick to my stomach. Sorta like eating lutefisk. 

Enjoy your day. I know I will.  

Dear Thursday, Move out of the freak’n way. Sincerely, Friday.

Arab world in turmoil, Renteria leaves the SF. Giants, earthquake destroys New Zealand...and Justin Beiber cuts his hair. Will tomorrow's headline be Justin Beiber uses 2-ply Toilet Paper? But now on to the good news: Only 21 more days until the S.F. Giants Opening Season. I can't wait, seeing how I now have High Definition and I'm confident that I will enjoy watching the games even more.

Baseball is the only place in life where a sacrifice is really appreciated. It's not just a game ~ as simple as a ball and a bat. It’s complex ...it's a sport, it's a business - and to some people, like my son, it's  religion. Sure Baseball is only a game. True Fact. And the Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona.

Life is like Baseball. It will always throw you curves, you just have to keep fouling them off. The right pitch will come, and when it does, be prepared to run the bases.

Unlike Football (and I really have to admit, I don't see the thrill in watching football, sorry) you can't just sit on a lead and run a few plays into the line and just kill the clock. You've got to throw the ball over the goddamn plate and give the other opposite team player his chance. That's why baseball is the greatest game of them all. It just ain't like football. You can't make up no trick plays.

Every hitter likes fastballs, just like everybody likes chocolate. But I’ll bet you wouldn’t like it when someone's stuffing it into you candy bar after candy bar. I’ll bet that’s what it feels like when Tim Lincecum throws balls by you. Lincecum’s fastball is so fast, I’m surprised some batters don’t start to swing as he is on his way to the mound. Something about this 2010 season made me a true fan of Lincecum's. Not sure if it was my affinity to him being a Washingtonian like myself or just that watching him pitch had me in awe. Sure, his nickname is 'The Freak', he has long hair, he wears T-shirts with no sleeves and wears his baseball cap backwards. So what?  I also really liked  Buster Posey. Watching him work his Catching 'magic' was inspiring. I always pay close attention to the 'Catchers'.  For personal reasons, they are my favorite players in the world of baseball. I see them as the 'Captain' or the 'Leader' of the team. The Catcher is by far in the best position possible. He can direct. He can lead. He has to have a true understanding of the game itself, all the strategies. He can't stop thinking, not for a minute. Always on his toes.  He's the one who will suffer the most physical abuse in baseball. He has to catch those balls, he has to block those balls, he's always directly in the path of that ball, using his mitt or his body.  He has to prevent that stolen base. He has to mentally evaluate that umpire behind him, learn what this fella is gonna call...he has to be able to react and respond immediately. And not in a position that's easy to be in, that's for sure, squatting behind home plate. His role is team leader. He's a coach for the infield. The Coach for his team. He's like a General in the Army, leading his troops. I have nothing but admiration for the man who puts that face mask on.   For a Catcher, the practices are never too long, the sun is never too hot, the pain is never too much to bear - it is a passion.

My personal opinion is that Edgar Renteria is such a great hitter that he probably gets intentional walks in batting practice. I'm no expert on 'hitters' and I could very well be wrong but WTH?  Did we really lose him to Cincinnati? As a free agent? The guy who hit the three-run home run? The MVP in the 2010 World Series? First off I thought he was talking about retirement. Now he’s with the RedSox?  Ok, I’m confused. I'm sure my son will explain it to me.  One time I told him "Baseball wrong - man with four balls cannot walk." He explained that to me. (Ok, just kidding)

My son spent a good portion of his life gripping a baseball, and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time. Baseball had a grip on him. Still does. Always will. I now wonder about how he diapered his first child, Shadwic. I think this may have been how he did it. He would spread the diaper in the position of the diamond with himself at bat. Then he would fold second base down to home and set Shadwic on the pitcher's mound. Then he would put first base and third base together, then he would bring up home plate and fasten the three together. Of course, in case of rain, he would have to ‘call the game’ and start all over again. And now....Shad is the next generation to get the 'love of baseball'........

You just can't deny the smile on this face. I've seen that smile before. On his father's face! I couldn't be a happier 'Nana' ~ my grandaughter Kaihla loves her gymnastics and my grandson Shad loves his baseball.

 

Ok....I can't have my blog without my facebook slamming. Sorry folks, but it just makes me feel better. Bear with me.

Heard the geese start to return this morning. I just hope they don’t go overboard on Facebook with pictures from their vacation.
BREAKING NEWS: Facebook is down. Worker productivity rises. U.S. climbs out of recession.

See that was short - the facebook slamming I mean. I’ve made fun of Facebook so much, I think I should thank it for all the good times I’ve had!

Now on to my usual thoughts...you know, give you something to think about:

Is it true that the Seahawks  Stadium banned Apple iPad after players confessed to buying performance enhancing apps?
Do mountain climbers rope themselves together to prevent the sensible ones from going home?
Do you ever wonder if the people who think the world will end in 2012 just laugh uncontrollably when they purchase something with no payments until 2013? (Don't worry about the world coming to an end today. Think about it. It is already tomorrow in Australia.)
Are any of you worried about your home’s security? Here’s a thought. Put six locks on your door, all in a row. When you go out, lock every other one. It’s reasonable to say that no matter how long somebody stands there picking the locks, they are always locking three.

My final words:
Prove that lightning isn't my Finnish wizards fighting. You can't.

Got things to do now. My Welsh grandmother started walking five miles a day when she was sixty. She's ninety-seven now, and we don't know where the hell she is. Might be time to go looking for her.

Remember this ~ Be tender to the young, compassionate to the aged, tolerant with the weak. For in your lifetime you will be all of these. And.......Always, ALWAYS be kind to animals!　

     

Just another Monday

I'd like to say don’t worry about Monday morning. Focus on now. Not the alarm, the struggle to get out of bed & the mind-numbing, soul-destroying day ahead. Monday is the root of all evil. It’s been freak’n Monday all week. Not sure exactly why I despise Monday’s but I do. It’s not like I have to get up and go to work. Those days are over. Maybe it’s because it’s the day I have to haul garbage cans to the street. Not an easy task in the snow. Today the sun is out. There’s actually a technical meteorological term for a nice sunny day which follows two rainy days. It’s called a ‘Monday.’ My snow may be melting away as I write this, but now my entire back property is flooded. So if any of you are wondering what happens to the 'white' of the snow when it melts, well.....it's all right here in my flooded yard.

I had a great week-end though. Had a visitor from Washington State. A woman I met last year when I was in Washington for my brother's memorial. We immediately 'clicked' when we met. Not sure if it was because she had lost her husband a few days before I had lost my brother, or if it was because...well...because we are both 'crazy' women. Probably because she is Norwegian and I'm Finn. Yep, the 'Nordic' thing. Usually I don't really trust people who like me the second we meet. I'm an acquired taste.

(Sean, does she or does she not have a striking resemblance to Michele K. ? )

My dog Finn absolutely loved her black lab Tucker. Actually all my dogs loved Tucker, even Kesä. I was afraid that Tucker might see Kesä as a chew toy, but it all went really well. When it came to 'toys' I think Tucker had every one of the dog toys out. He was just an all-around enjoyable dog, full of personality. Even Shadow-Man liked him, and Shadow-Man doesn't particulary care for any 'outsider' dogs.

Easter is coming soon. I never have plans for Easter. I'm not a religious person. But I do have one question. How long do I have to sit on these Cadbury Eggs before the Peeps hatch?

My Monday Observations:

Each and every time I see a mattress on top of a vehicle I think it’s a prostitute making house calls.
　
Don't waste your money on expensive ipods. Simply think of your favorite song and hum it. If you want to 'switch tracks', think of another song you like and hum that instead.

And next, my slamming of facebook:

Nothing in this world is free and you pay by signing away your privacy when you sign up for facebook.  You have allowed yourself to become a digital lab rat whose behavior is closely monitored in a ‘controlled' environment. Think 'Big Brother',  I kid you not.
　
The most impressive thing about marathon runners is how they don’t check their facebook for 3+ hours.

Ok, short Blog. I just wanted to inform you all that due to our crappy economy, the rising cost of electricity, gas and damn near everything else, that the light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off. Be safe out there.