Bats of America

I laughed out loud at this one. Read more at notesfromtheuk.com.

Ellen Hawley's avatarNotes from the U.K.

Truth in Blogging Warning: This post contains no useful cross-cultural information and the incident described is in no way typical of American life.

And with that out of the way,  I’ll refer back, as bloggers do with a look of strained innocence as they post links that drive you deeper into their blogs, to an earlier post about some of the nuttier reasons people call the British emergency services and it reminded me of a time when Wild Thing and I made one of those calls in the U.S.

We lived at the time in Minneapolis, in the downstairs half of a two-family house. That’s in Minnesota. If you’re not sure where that is, take the map of the U.S., fold it in half and look more or less on the fold, just below the Canadian border. Minnesota’s the state curling sweetly around the westernmost of the Great Lakes.

Irrelevant photo: a sign on a public footpath. If you want to get to Sheepdip, turn right. Irrelevant photo: Sign on a…

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Dr. Phil and the Philanderers

  
I seldom watch Dr. Phil, but when I do it seems the episode always deals with someone cheating on his or her spouse/significant other. Surely his program deals with other topics, but I only get to see the philanderers. 

Today’s show featured a woman who is cheating on her husband with an old high school flame. I found myself wondering why the husband doesn’t just say “adios, babe!” before riding off into the sunset. Likewise, her boyfriend seems to be waiting on the woman to make up her mind.

I’m not going to weigh in on the morality of the situation, I just wonder how a woman manages to get not one, but two men doing what she wants. Amazing. I can’t get mine to take out the trash.

Dr. Phil, can you help?

  
Gee, thanks!

Peace, people!

The Corruption of Saint Helen

I took my beautiful mother-in-law, Saint Helen, to lunch at The Edison in Tallahassee today. 

  
I had an outstanding BLT. She had a strawberry salad. We both had a cocktail!

 

Saint Helen and her cocktail.
 
Well, to be fair, Saint Helen only had half of one. I drank every last drop of mine.

  

Rosewater Pink Lemonade shaken with Bombay Gin is a lovely way to celebrate October 29. Or any other day, for that matter.

Peace, people!

Let’s Talk About Buc-ee’s

  
Studly Doright, my mother-in-law, Saint Helen, and I made an important discovery on our recent trip home from the Texas Hill Country. No, it wasn’t an actual chupacabra, or a new, hotter than hell type of chili pepper. This was something way cooler and far more easy to digest–the mega convenience store called Buc-ee’s.

I’m not even sure mega comes close to describing just how big these stores are. 

  
 

Above is pictured a small part of a Buc-ee’s food court. 
 Coke, anyone?

  
Buc-ee is a pretty big deal. Even the Travelocity Gnome paid a visit.

Need a souvenir of your Buc-ee’s trip? You’re covered!

  
   

I didn’t find a photo of the bathrooms at Buc-ee’s, but trust me on this, it was amazing! I felt like I’d entered the Buckingham Palace of restrooms. It was huge and every stall had its own hand sanitizer dispenser. 

Oh, and as we left we heard the friendly, “Y’all come back now!”

God bless Texas. And Buc-ee’s!

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.

Hangover Haiku

head throbs, stomach roils
nausea threatens to rise;
drunken aftermath.

 
unwelcome symptoms,
consequences of
over indulging.

 
should know better now
in fifth decade’s last hurrah
I learned too slowly.

 

Peace, people! 

I might’ve had way too much to drink at my high school reunion this weekend. 

Love, Damn It

i loved you
before it was cool
before i knew
what love meant.

love it seems is more
than hearts and flowers;
more than sweet
expressions.

it’s hard work,
honestly, this love stuff.
not for the
weak of spirit.

there have been
days when i felt the dearth
of love; its
cold absence.

but mostly love’s
embraced us like the warmest
hug on the coldest
night. perfect.

  

Anticipation

  

If anticipation is nine-tenths of delight, I would argue, it’s nine-tenths of terror, as well.

Like that feeling when your name was called over the intercom requesting your immediate presence in the principal’s office. 

Likewise, recall the feeling of dread upon hearing, “Just you wait until your father gets home!”

Very few periods of anticipation can compete with the interminable wait between the instant you note the flashing lights of a police car in the rear view mirror and the officer’s knock on your car’s window.

How about the anticipation that accompanies the dentist urging you to “open wide, this won’t hurt a bit.”?

Yes, anticipation can promise heaven or foreshadow hell. 

Tonight I might be speaking to a group of people that I’ve seen on only a handful of occasions over the past 40 years–yes, it’s time for our class reunion. I say “might” because I’m not a speaker and could end up simply staring in silent horror at my high school friends and their respective spouses and partners.

I keep telling myself the anticipation is the worst part. For everyone’s sake, I sincerely hope so.

  
Peace, people.

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!