Category: Commentary

Flight of the Flip Flips

Studly Doright and I just returned from a trip to Gruene, Texas, for a reunion of the Floydada High School class of 1975. 

Always on the lookout for bloggable material, I had the marvelous idea of posting photos of myself on a variety of stops en route to Texas from Tallahassee. 

I started out strongly:

Milton, FL rest stop
  
 

Unfortunately, I quickly forgot all about the idea after the second stop. I might’ve been sidetracked by the quotes on the booths. 

TA Truck Stop, Grand Bay, Alabama
   

 

Notice I was incredibly proud of my toenails. They’d been painted green to commemmorate Floydada’s team colors. 

Due to heavy rains and cooler temperatures in Gruene, Texas, not a single person got to see my toes at the event. Their loss, right?

The reunion was incredible, though, even without my toes on display.

40 Years of Looking Good

Peace, people.

Remember When

  

remember when youth
defined our relationships?
who kissed whom, when, why?

remember when life
seemed suspended in bubbles
of the possible?

remember when love
was everywhere, yet nowhere
for all, even you?

remember when fate
was always to be tempted?
damn consequences!

remember sweetest
softly tangled memories,
joy amid regrets.

remember classmates
underneath crinkles remain
life’s anchors, steadfast.

A Profound Thought from an Ordinary Mind

One of the greatest inventions of my lifetime is the frost-free refrigerator.

  
My children will never know the agony of working for an entire day to melt and chip the rock hard accumulation of ice in the freezer compartment of a refrigerator. I only had to tackle this chore as a youngster when Mom got it into her head that it could be put off no longer. 

I hated defrosting. I’d slosh hot water on my hands as I carried bowls full between sink and fridge. Then my fingers would stick to the ice and little pieces of skin would be left behind. And the cold, the bitter cold. No wonder I never had aspirations of becoming an arctic explorerer.

In the future there will be those who perform historical reenactments for the entertainment and edification of schoolchildren on field trips. Surely the freezer defrosting demonstration will result in the most oohs and aahs and expressions of outright disbelief.

“How barbaric!” the children will cry. 

Of course that’s before they get to the dial-up modem demo.

  
Peace, people!

Fangirl

There are things in my life that I get a little geeky about. I’m already trying to figure out how to justify going to see Star Wars Episode VII on Christmas Day. I have full color action packed dreams about Han Solo and Chewbacca. That’s geeky.

But this post isn’t about Star Wars, it’s about me geeking out over a favorite author retweeting one of my tweets on Twitter. (Sounds a bit like Rockin’ Robin, doesn’t it?)

When I find an author I like I will read any and everything he or she has ever written. One of those authors is CJ Box. Mr. Box doesn’t write scifi or fantasy, my two favorite genres. No, he writes what I’d call modern western novels, set primarily in Wyoming. One of his protagonists is a game warden named Joe Pickett. 

I know Joe Pickett better than I do some members of my own family. Joe’s one of the really good guys in this world, but he’s not perfect. I’d like to think Joe and I could be best friends, but he’d think I talk too much. He’d be right. 

While driving around Tallahassee today after getting a pedicure:

 

green and sparkly!
 
I saw a sticker on a car window that read, “Blind Eye Outfitters” and all my warning bells started ringing. Blind eye, eh? Does that mean the outfitter will ignore violations of game laws? Instantly I wanted to touch base with Joe Pickett, and see if he should investigate.

Of course Joe is fictional, so I did the next best thing and tweeted CJ Box. Imagine my delight when he not only favorited my tweet, but then retweeted it! This geeky fangirl squealed a little, I’m not going to lie. 

  
Maybe CJ will notify Joe for me. It could happen.

Peace, people!

Ancient Aliens

Studly Doright has permanent dibs on the tv remote. Usually, I’m okay with that, but when his search for programming stops on the series, Ancient Aliens, I go into full blown sarcasm mode.

Giorgio Tsoukalos, ancient alien conspiracy theorist

If you haven’t had the pleasure (gag) of watching the History Channel’s Ancient Aliens you have no idea what you’ve been missing. Along with venereal disease and a bad case of poison sumac.

The premise of each episode is the same–to prove retroactively that groups of extraterrestrials were responsible for helping get the human race off the ground. The pyramids? Check. Stonehenge? Check. Mayan temples? Check. Epcot Center? Check.

If ancient edifices weren’t built by aliens as astronavigational facilities, they were erected as gigantic abodes primarily used for conjugal visits for whenever E.T. came to gift humanity with his otherworldly seed. 

Yes, according to Ancient Aliens, we are most likely all descended from little green men. That explains a lot: Donald Trump, David Spade, Abe Vigoda.

   
  
  
On some episodes aliens are credited with being the gods of ancient mythology, and we know what a horny bunch they were. 

 

Zeus (in bull form) seduces Europa.

 
Zeus in swan form seduces Leda.
  
Zeus in Nicholas Cage form seduces Farrah Fawcett.
 

I’m beginning to understand Studly Doright’s fascination with Ancient Aliens. It’s basically soft core space porn. 

Peace, people!
  

Shoes and Zombies

One might wonder what possible relationship could be found between shoes and zombies. 

 
On the surface there seem to be few, if any connections; however, for one such as I who periodically stops to ponder survival in a zombie apocalypse, shoes, or more specifically, types of shoes, might have a real bearing on one’s chances of surviving a zombie horde.

I’ve never been a shoe maven. Oh, in my younger years I enjoyed putting on a pair of heels with a short skirt and watching heads turn as I sashayed into a restaurant. I was never a great beauty, but my legs were more than adequate as such things go.

Not long after I hit my mid-30’s, though, I realized that the leggy look enhanced by a pair of heels in no way made up for the resulting back and foot pain, and except for a couple of notable occasions (both weddings) I’ve steered clear of shoes with anything higher than an inch of heel since then.

I credit this common sense for giving me exceptionally nice feet for a woman of 59, feet that can walk for miles with no complaint. And that’s where zombie survival kicks in.

  
Apparently the zombies pictured above have found easy prey, presumably one who was unable to outdistance the walking dead due to poor footwear choices.

  
While this pair of Louboutin’s might help one strike a stunning pose on the red carpet, chances are they’ll only slow one down when survival matters.

  
On the other hand, this waterproof boot by Merrell would provide protection, comfort, and traction in all terrain. 

Doright Manor Musings

Outside Doright Manor the temperature is 85 degrees. It’s a warm October day, but not terribly humid. Of course I’m sitting in air conditioned comfort having just enjoyed a Smart Ones spicy chicken and fries meal. 

There are two separate shows being played out for my enjoyment. One is a recording of The Walking Dead. The other is the steady procession of roofers hauling bundles of shingles up a ladder to our covered/screened in porch addition.

My cats are fascinated by the roofing show. They want to attack the dangling cords and to pounce on the dropped sacks that seemingly appear from nowhere and float enticingly to the ground. They are both indoor cats, though, so the roofing show is as real to them as The Walking Dead is to me.

Hopefully before too many more days all the work on the porch will be completed, and the cats will be able to venture into the great indoor outdoors. Studly Doright and I are making predictions on their first adventures. 

Scout, we feel, will embrace the porch immediately, claiming it as her territory, but Patches fears everything and it may take her awhile to cross the threshold. I give her a week before she takes the plunge, whereas Studly thinks it will take much longer. We live exciting lives, don’t we?

  

Peace, people!

Note to Random Driver

Thanks so much for assuming I wanted to hear those nasty ass lyrics booming from your stereo this morning. Who knew that hearing “F*ck you B*tch!” yelled repeatedly to the boom, boom, boom of an overly tuned bass would be such a great way to begin my day, especially after a night of too little sleep and a morning of too much caffeine. 

I know it surprised you when I lowered my window and waved sweetly at you. Your jaw dropped as I mouthed, “Hey B*tch! How’d you know that’s my favorite f*cking song?”

Being a sarcastic middle-aged woman has its perks. 

  
Peace, people!

I might be drunk

A glass of wine
a jug of bread
and thee.
i might be drunk.

Debate

For the first time in my adult life I’m watching a debate in the company of people who have similar political views. I’m pretty vocal, so it’s gratifying to be around folks who are just as vocal, and perhaps more so, than I am.

Bernie Sanders seems to be a big favorite in this crowd, with Hillary Clinton a close second. Thunderous applause breaks out at their every word. I feel sorry for the remainder of the pack, for hardly any applause at all comes their way.

I have a strong sense of fairness, and it seems as though moderator Anderson Cooper hurries the other debaters along, barely noticing their contributions to the debate; although, to be fair, I’ve had several glasses of wine.

  
Who will emerge as the debate’s winner? I love Bernie, but I’ll confess, any of these guys would be preferable to anything the Republicans have to offer.

Peace, people!