Thistle Hair The Christmas Bear

Merry Christmas, from Alabama

http://susie1114.com/Christmas/ThistleBear.html

too good to keep for myself: Muthafucka with Cup-Holders

I woke this morning to hear a moving truck backing into our back driveway, a 4-driveway-wide plot of land on which the 4 tenants each have 1 parking space. We live in the back, upstairs apartment.

“Beep, beep, beep,” made the truck, in reverse – the alarm clock for the partially employed househusband.

Our neighbor – a bald-headed, pot-bellied, always red-in-the face middle-aged man who speaks in rapid fire 20-word long sentences in under 3 seconds per sentence – was driving the truck and a friend/co-worker must have been waving his hands directing him for the back-in. I didn’t get up to check, but I could tell because they were talking to each other as if from outside the vehicle.

Baldy, whom I like very much – don’t get me wrong – the above was just a description, yells over to his friend/co-worker, “For $200, that muthafucka had cup-holders and everything.”

I got up, found my notepad and pen in the closet, and wrote down his quote. Mostly because I wasn’t sure it had really happened.

It made me realize that, on more than one occasion, interesting things on the fringe of reason that you would never expect to hear in real life – might not have actually been the average nonsensical dream fragment – these things might have really happened.

Things like someone actually talking about the above-said muthufucka with cup-holders.

~Courtesy of my favorite California househusband

Rest Area Interview

What better place to be interviewed for a holiday traveling story than the Alabama welcome center in Mobile? Traveling with the future in-laws and loving fiancee, we stop to use the facilities and are welcomed to Alabama with open arms by a local television crew, Fox 10 News. We're the last family to be seen in the following video.

All I Want for Christmas...

...is a cupcake go-cart. Hey, the hat's included...

DDR and Auntie Sarah

"Come over and we'll practice this new dance game I have on the Wii." Is that something you've ever heard come out of the mouth of your beautiful, dazzing, 60-year-old auntie? Well, that's what my afternoon had in store yesterday. Completely awesome.

Afternoon raspberry iced tea and a fulfilling spiritual conversation was followed by a game of nothing else but Dance Dance Revolution, or DDR, a game which I've played maybe twice in my life. In college I photographed a student who had the game memorized and could play with his eyes closed. I walked back to the newsroom that day glad that I had friends.

But now DDR seemed kind of exciting, in that way you get when no one is watching. After about 30 minutes of play we finally figured out how to get out of training mode. My song choice of Young MC's "Bust A Move" was accompanied by the video of girls in jean shorts with large yellow bows in their hair, busting a move in a way that I would never be able to on the DDR dance mat. I felt more white and uncoordinated than I have in a while. I take myself as a fairly good dancer. DDR draws out none of my skill. Is it really for people who can't dance? Or is it for people who just like to click buttons and frolic around like they've got ants in their pants?

The highlight of the day was during LCD Soundsystem's "Tribulations" when lovely Auntie Sarah accidentally clicked the Expert setting. If you could imagine someone standing in place trying to escape an attacking beehive, that's the scene that I saw in her living room. I cried, she had to run to use the potty we were laughing so hard.

Uncle Lloyd sure missed out on DDR.

I Said Yes

Proposal at the Top of the World
Haleakala Volcano
Haleakala National Park
Maui, Hawai'i
September 20, 2009

too good to keep for myself: jeanspants and beanspant

In Bombay, they call blue jeans "jeanspants" -- all one word said quickly, and pronounced like this --- "jinspant".

So, we ate some bad food one day last week, and I had "beanspant" -- or "binspant" as I've been calling it.

I will save the rest of this one for the phone, but "binspant" turned out real bad at the Starbuck's...

(thank God for honest, truthful friendships. I love receiving emails like this.)

Day at the Library

The library system in Oconee County South Carolina isn't exactly state of the art, but I was excited to know that the library finally has wireless internet. The library is only open for three hours on Sunday, so my wonderful fiancee dropped me off at the library to do my homework. We're now sharing a car, which hasn't been trouble at all. In fact, I really enjoy sharing something that is so necessary to our lives now with someone so special. It may sound cheesy, but never has anyone been so deeply involved in my life and my heart that I would ever trust them or be trusted with such a venture. It's good for us and also good for the environment. We are taking steps to make life simpler together rather than so complicated and stressful. It's quite wonderful. The fun part is I get to wait outside the library where apparently all the other teenagers get to wait for their rides. As I was waiting next to the flagpole, I noticed a bunch of scribblings on the flagpole...something I have never noticed before in my life. The photo I took was with my cell phone camera (which I'm just happy to have after dropping the phone in my smoothie recently). I didn't realize kids cared about classic rock stars anymore...does Janis Joplin even have a Facebook page or songs on Guitar Hero? I got a little bit excited and hopeful for the new generations, probably just as people did when went through my classic rock stage in my late teens (although I still think CCR would be my desert island album). I still see their writings on the flagpole as found art, regardless of the amount of profanity. Kids are crying out, searching for a voice. It makes me interested to see what I will find the next time I'm waiting for my ride, especially if he drops me off at the movies to watch the next Twilight movie...by myself.

Southern Land Lord

My job usually isn't very exciting. Most of the time I work alone in a church office in the basement of a building. There are windows so it's not so drab. One of the highlights of two weeks in August was watching a spider kill and eat three crickets in the corner of the women's restroom. But today has to be a highlight for me of exciting events here at the church office. I am working alone today again and the pastor is on vacation. Yesterday I discovered that the power had been shut off to "the scary room" as I call it--the room where all the power cords and phone lines connect into. Well, that means no computers and no phones for the office. An extension cord repaired that problem, but the power had been shut off on a different floor which apparently our kitchen was tied into. The soupy mess I discovered when I went to place my yummy cucumber sandwich in the fridge this morning was horrific. Which led to my journey of tracking down the land lord of the building. An easy task, you would think, but four phone calls go unreturned. I discover the office is just next door, though, but inside an antique shop. I decide to be confrontational and proactive about the nasty mess inside the kitchen and since my phone calls are unreturned, I make an appearance at the antique shop. At 9 a.m. in the morning, the shop was a frightening sight to anyone, especially someone like me who thinks that antique shops/swap meets/flea markets are mostly just big junk shows. The first thing I see when I walk into the warehouse sized building is an entire wall, floor to ceiling, of dead stuffed animal heads. (see photo) The creepiness continues as I walk around the huge warehouse full of junk and dead animals, and no one is there. "Hello? Anyone here? Hello?" So then I start imagining people waiting for me to come around the corner and kidnap me and I decide that my leaky fridge isn't worth risking my life for. As I walk out the door, I notice a vehicle parked at the end of the lot near a fence to an outdoor area. I walk down and peek through the fence and there sits Betty Lou, or that's the name I gave her in my head. A smoker with crop pants on and a raspy voice. She worked there and as I explained my situation, she told me she'd me meet back inside. Oh dread. On the phone to her husband/son/whoever owns the company, she explains that "the little girl from the church is here" (I recently celebrated my 28th birthday). Apparently that phone call finally reached someone to fix my little problem and I got out of that nasty building as soon as I could. Anyway, there's a little taste of how land lords do business in the South.

Sweet 70's Shot

I have no idea where I found this photo. Isn't it amazing, though? Somewhere deep down inside I appreciate really bad, dated photos, boring postcards, especially cheesy wedding photos with vignetting. I'm pretty sure this was my mom's hair-do for her entire high school career.

Squirrel Kung Fu

2008: Turf war?
Two Cape grey squirrels fight for dominance at a campground at Etosha National Park in Namibia on Dec. 5. A colony of the squirrels, which are poor tree climbers so tend to live below ground in burrows, ventured to the surface to forage for food.


David Slater / Zuma Press

And YOU'RE going to teach our future generations?

The following sentence is an excerpt from a team paper that I am editing through. This person is a Master's candidate. Yikes...

The teacher should be on that has a good presence and be authoritative enough to have the parents drop off their child and then quickly depart so that the child can learn that this is how it is going to be and that it is an ok think.

Courtesy Flush

Upon having a background check done at the Anderson County Department of Social Services, to become certified to teach, this is what I find in the ladies bathroom. Bizarre, I suppose. In all of my visits to public restrooms, never have I seen anything like this. So I decided to check the handicapped restroom wall to see what was posted in there. I know, so lame. But what's even funnier is that nothing was posted. Well anyway, here is some more found art to share.

(Sorry about the quality of the image. My cell phone camera doesn't white balance.)

Old Ladies and Road-Side Rednecks

This summer, along with this entire year, have been filled with classes for a Master's degree, visits to parents, a reunion, a wedding, and short weekend trips. My wonderful partner, Mark, has filled my life with joy in everything that we do together. Being so busy, I constantly battle myself in accepting such happiness. It amazes me how I am unable to finally accept peace and unconditional love from another human, but it doesn't come easy when it has been absent from my life until now.

To lighten my load a bit, God has placed random people and events in my life to bring a smile to my face--often a belly laugh--to remind me to lighten up and enjoy every moment that He gives me. Driving home after work one day, I saw an old lady crossing the street to check the mail with a head full of curlers, a cigarette hanging out of the side of her mouth, with black socks on and pink slippers. I haven't seen (or used) curlers like that since I was about 10-years-old. She amazed me.

While driving out of town Friday, Mark and I passed a guy walking along the side of the road in jean shorts. Yes, jean shorts are still here. Can we blame the recession for this? But even better, or maybe worse, is that they had holes in the them where the pockets were falling out with threads hanging from the bottom. And beneath those jeans shorts were black spandex...maybe out of courtesy to onlookers due to all the holes in the jean shorts. Completely awesome. Long socks with sneakers and a trucker's hat to top it all off. This wasn't a hipster trying to look the part; this guy was for real.

I add these two to my growing mental compartment of found art that I am horrified by yet at the same time greatly appreciate. I honeslty don't know the last time I thanked God for old ladies and road-side rednecks.

She Makes My Life Worth Living

One reason God put me in the family He did...my lovely sister, MacKenzie Adele.

OhOhio

First trip home to introduce the love of your life to your parents and past might be exciting for some, but with dread I traveled 10 hours to Ohio. Mark means so much to me and is such a wonderful man. There are parts of my past that could have come back to haunt me, but never have I felt so completely accepted before by anyone, through and through. I knew that even if those old ghosts came out of hiding that it wouldn't phase him. He is strong and accepting in any situation. God knew what I needed and gave me so much more.

So, of course it wasn't perfect...but it went as well as it could have gone. A quick rundown: Mark almost got thrown from a horse...I witnessed a girl hike up her skirt and relieve herself in the bushes at ComFest...a family gathering where everyone was told not to take an individual slice of butter for their corn, but rather "just roll it around in the butter" and then let the next person do the same...Mark passed on the butter...the journey of scrounging up all my belongings...but by far my favorite "at home" moment was during breakfast on the day we were leaving. We all got up early and my Mom cooked us a hearty french toast meal. Mom and Dad (divorced) apparently have assigned seats at their dining room table. I was semi-aware of this, but didn't think that it would matter if a guest was visiting. Apparently Mark was welcomed and accepted: the only empty seat for my Dad--the last to the table--was next to my Mom. Rather than taking his seat or asking politely if Mark would mind changing seats, he just stood right next to Mark with his plate in his hand. And waited. "You're going to have to move, Mark, because he won't sit next to me and I sure as hell don't want him to," Mom says. Ahhhh finally, the family I'm used to comes out of hiding. Welcome to the fam, Mark. If they can show their true colors, you're in.

p.s. photo is Me, Mark, lil' sis Kenzi, and her beau Andrew (awesome guy) at ComFest...this quite possibly is the funniest face I've ever made, captured here on camera for your enjoyment.

Around the House

I realize that home videos are extremely lame. Nothin' worse than watching someone else's family vacation to Montana. But I'm sharing this video because of the history behind the sweatshirt in the photo. During a recent family visit to Ohio, my Dad asks me if I want a sweatshirt that he has kept for years that I had when I was in elementary school. For all the problems that my family has had, they are a bit sentimental. I didn't know what I was going to do with a toddler size sweatshirt that reads "Penrose Beavers," but I said sure. Sadie might have protested had she known my plans for the sweatshirt.

They Come In Threes

You may have raised an eyebrow at the death of Farrah Fawcett, and perhaps you joined the hipsters crying into their iPhones with the news of the death of Michael Jackson today, but I think the death that truly deserves mourning today is that of Kodachrome.

from NPPA.org:

Kodachrome Retires Today

ROCHESTER, NY (June 22, 2009) – Eastman Kodak announced the news today: Kodachrome, its oldest film and a central player in its portfolio for 74 years, officially retires today.

The company said declining customer demand and the proliferation of digital photography brought an end to its oldest and most iconic film.

Only a handful of labs around the world still process Kodachrome 64 and sales of the film line, once Kodak's leading product, are now less than one percent of its film sales.

Kodachrome was a unique film requiring its own manufacturing process that didn't share common components with Kodak's other films, and therefore in recent years has only been manufactured about once a year. Always well-known to photographers, the film crossed over into popular culture vernacular in 1973 in a song that was a Paul Simon hit, "Kodachrome."

Kodachrome wasn't just for still photography, it was also favored by moviemakers because of its rich colors. In an unusual process for slide film, the "color" was added to the film in processing through a series of dyes rather than having layers of color built into the film's emulsion. Dwayne's Photo, a photography lab in Parsons, KS, has agreed to continue processing Kodachrome through 2010.

In a tribute to its most famous film, Kodak has put a gallery online of some of the more iconic images known to have been shot on the film. The tribute site includes video of National Geographic photographer Steve McCurry talking about his life-long use of the film and his iconic "Afghan Girl" shot on Kodachrome.

Yes, yes, a little known fact is my very first album ever was Thriller. So Mr. Jackson, here's an excerpt for you:

via MSNBC.com

He was perhaps the most exciting performer of his generation, known for his feverish, crotch-grabbing dance moves and his high-pitched voice punctuated with squeals and titters. His single sequined glove, tight military-style jacket and aviator sunglasses were trademarks second only to his ever-changing, surgically altered appearance.

As years went by, Jackson became an increasingly freakish figure — a middle-aged man-child weirdly out of touch with grown-up life. His skin became lighter, his nose narrower, and he spoke in a breathy, girlish voice. He surrounded himself with children at his Neverland Ranch, often wore a germ mask while traveling and kept a pet chimpanzee named Bubbles as one of his closest companions.

Don't worry, Mr. Jackson, apparently nothing you could ever do would make me dislike "Billie Jean."

A Birthday To Remember

On June 21st I celebrated my 28th birthday. Birthdays don't get that exciting after your 21st birthday. But this birthday was a wonderful celebration. Not a loud gathering, nothing too crazy or out of control, but just a gathering of the people that God has blessed me with since moving to South Carolina. From church friends to friends I've shared my soul with to family to my soul mate, I was surrounded by love and support. Highlights include Southern style mustard BBQ ribs my uncle makes, a desert table filled with homemade desserts, and of course Sou'Ca'lina Jeopardy. Introducing everyone also meant a lot to me. Emotional and spiritual support can go a long way, and it means the world to me that so many people care about me and love me. I have so much to be thankful for and know that I am where God wants me to be.

Family Frenzy

About twice a week I wonder why God chose to place me in the family that He did. I really feel now more than ever a drastic difference between me and most family members. My favorite person on this earth is in my family, though, and I wonder if she is the reason why I was placed here. My little sister has such a fun-filled, light-hearted spirit. Although she has been through turmoil and rage, she continues to rise above and brush her shoulders off. It's unbelievable what some people see as normal and others would see as completely unacceptable violence. When I feel so helpless, I remember that we are but breaths of life in God's hand, and that He is in complete control. It would seem like a hopeless situation without God, but I know that she is His child and He can do more than I could ever do to protect her. A good friend recently asked me if I believed in God because of what I had been through in my lifes: the major pits. I don't believe you have to be down in the dumps to search for God or for any religion; I know that God gives me hope when I am down there. And when He puts me on the mountain tops, I praise Him for those, too, knowing that every moment on this earth is a gift from God.

A hundred bucks in your pocket and two fish on the line

I commissioned my father, Stan Wonorski, to write this story down after telling it to me over the telephone. Hope you enjoy as much as I did.

10 steps to misery

(I found this article online during a search about self-esteem...too hilarious not to share)

Want to know how to feel bad about yourself? This step-by-step guide is a 100% effective and is guaranteed to make you feel really, really bad about yourself!

1. Compare yourself to everyone and everything around you. Pick out things they have that you don't. Think how "lucky" they are and how "unlucky" you are.
2. Put yourself down at any opportunity possible. Avoid saying or believing you are an OK person at any time.
3. Never ever take a compliment. Tell people that "it was nothing" or that you are not what they are saying you are. Don't thank anyone, always pretend you didn't hear.
4. Tell yourself over and over again things like "I am horrible", "I am stupid", "I am ugly", "I am disgusting" or "I am useless".
5. Hang around people and involve yourself in things where you are put down or disrespected. This helps make the things in step 4 sink in even more!
6. Make a long list of all of your past failures, embarrassments, negative qualities, wrongdoings and stuff-ups. Pin it on your fridge, in your bedroom, behind the toilet door, in the front of your diary.
7. Stick to yourself. Don't let anyone near you and never let people really know you. Avoid giving compliments, doing things for others or contributing to anything.
8. Stay clear of anything that you enjoy or love doing.
9. Try and live up to everybody's expectations. Make all your decisions based on what you think other people might approve of.
10. Don't try anything new or take action in your life. Sit back and keep waiting for something to "just happen" to change things for you.

Sometimes, without even really knowing it, we can actively choose to be miserable! In reality, it is more likely that you would like to invite feelings of self-esteem into your life.

One definition of true love

True love is...

while sitting in a cold, drafty movie theater in flip-flops, asking the love of your life if he wouldn't mind removing his socks...yes, the ones on his feet...and loaning them to you for the duration of the movie...and him responding with a yes. :)

Gerbil Cannibals

This was in my reading material about the developmental stages of a first grader, and I just had to share:

"Amphibians such as frogs, toads, and snakes are common interests as are sharks, dinosaurs, and other "monsters." This is also an age where classroom pets, such as rabbits, gerbils, and so on, are big hits. This does not always work out as planned, however. In one of the classrooms the author was visiting, the teacher had brought in two gerbils. It turned out that they were male and female and soon had babies. Unfortunately, the father then ate the babies and within days both the mother and father died."

Savoring Spring

This has been the longest spring I've experienced in a while. Spring in Ohio could mean snow or frost, and then immediately jumps to humidity. Flowers have been blooming here in South Carolina for more than a month. Dogwood trees line the streets around town. Every day I wake up and praise God for yet another beautiful day, a beautiful season. It amazes me that so much fresh growth can come from such a cold, grey, dark season. For so long we see the trees and ground the same, yet in spring, trees are growing new leaves daily. I wonder why God doesn't give us these blooms year round, but just like anything precious, we wouldn't appreciate it as much if we saw it all the time, or experienced it all the time.

I witnessed 20 minutes of heaven this evening. Inside Oconee State Park in South Carolina, where I live, there is a fox den. A mama and two pups live about 100 yards off the road. I took an evening stroll with my camera, and when I was driving out of the park, I stopped in my car to see if the foxes were out. And they were. It was beautiful. I have always thought that if I ever had the choice of being an animal, I would be a red fox. They're so exotic, mysterious, and have red hair, of course. I sat in my car and attempted to take a photo--the shot you see here. Too far away for anything good. But if i wanted to watch, I had to stay in my car. She would tell them to hide if I got out of the car. I made use of my binoculars that I carry in my camera bag and saw how a fox family lives until it was too dark to watch any more. Mama sat on a log, constantly keeping watch, and the pups jumped around from their back feet to their front feet like rabbits, playing in the leaves and chasing each other. I thank God for her and their protection. What a wonderful time of the year.

"Honey, do you have a steady?"

A recent photo shoot brought me into Dickie's House of Flowers. I live in a fairly rural area, so I take what I can get when it comes to shopping. And I was actually excited that the town I drive through had a flower shop--a town filled with stores with signs for gun and fish licenses for sale posted in many of the windows. My first step into the shop and I noticed that the majority of Dickie's House of Flowers business was for funerals. Plastic flowers on stands filled the lobby. I knew there had to be a real flower somewhere in the shop. As I turned the corner, I wouldn't say shock was what I felt, but definitely surprise. The green rag carpet and green couch with yellow flowers was straight out of the 60's. It looked like it hadn't been vacuumed since installation. Perched on the couch was an elderly lady, talking to another customer. I didn't realize that she was actually selling something to him--Southerners don't like to get right down to business. They have to ease their way into most things they do. So, I sat down next to Gladys, an interesting woman as I soon came to find out, and began asking about flowers. She drug herself off the couch, helped the young gent purchase a yellow rose with distracting red bow and then we got down to business. No less than 25 minutes later I left her shop. For some reason, if I have enough patience, I enjoy seeing just how much information I can get out of people about their lives. Gladys attends a Baptist church in Walhalla, is 72, and asked the best question I've been asked in a while: "Honey, do you have a steady?" " I sure do, Ms. Gladys," I responded. I took my four purple flowers I bought for half price and left with a smile. Gladys had made my day.

Nice Guys

On a recent day-trip to Athens, Georgia for a Wilco show, I had a couple hours to make some intersting observations about nice guys and what girls don't like about them. I recently discovered how wonderful life is with a nice guy. What took me so long? Not quite sure. I didn't even know how to date my nice guy.
Voicemail to best guy friend:
"J, help! I'm going out on a date with a nice guy and I have no idea what to do."
Be myself. Well, of course. And nice guy ended up being everything I always wanted, everything I always thought I deserved, yet so much more. More than answered prayers. God surely has blessed me with my nice guy.
My nice guy decided to show me around his college town and take me to see one of his favorite bands. As we're driving through downtown, college girl in pajama pants with her hair pulled up in a messy bun (you know her) walks across the street in front of us.
"See? I couldn't even get frumpy girls like that when I went to college here."
I couldn't stop laughing. Not at the frumpy girl; I reminded him that often that is my outfit of choice while studying. But of course he loves it on me.
So, the nice guy I was able to observe for a couple hours? I was standing behind him and blonde beauty at the Wilco show. Her: early 20's, fit, cutesy, blonde bob. Him: late 20's/early 30's, balding, a little round in the middle, and tried for hours to be her center of attention.
It wasn't working. He bought her Red Bull for their mixed-in-the-crowd Red Bull and vodkas, kept brushing her shoulder, leaning in to tell her jokes. I'll have to say, she put on quite a show herself to keep him interested. I'm assuming he bought her ticket.
But then I text eavesdropped. Actually, I've never done this before. And didn't think it was possible. But when you're crammed into a small, dark space with tons of people, it is quite possible.
Her: "Are you coming over tonight? Say yes."
Oh, yeah, this is while she's standing next to nice guy.
But this is the best part.
Nicky responds: "Sorry, babe, I'm pretty busy packing. I'll see you soon."
Ugh...it doesn't get much more desperate than this:
Her: "Booo. I might cry."
And that was all I could get. How lame am I for text eavesdropping? I know. But it did make me think about this nice guy who wasn't going to get beyond friend status probably ever with the blonde; what doesn't he have that Nicky does have? I have a lot of guy friends who purposely treat women poorly; why does this behavior work?
Sometimes you have to be in a good situation to actually see how bad it was before. Such is the case with me. But, come on, nice guys are everywhere, and they've got a lot more to offer than free Red Bull and vodka.

Educational Irony

I'm in classes online for a Master's degree.

Here is my Instructor Feedback from a self-assessment paper during my third week of classes.

" Well writing, but a bit to informal. Interesting ideas and nice support."

Hmmmmmmmmmm...I'm not so sure about that.

Love and the Old Rugged Cross

I experienced what true love really means last night. One thing I appreciate about couples is hearing stories of what happens when no one is around. Morning showers together, foot rubs, watching movies on the floor... I finally have someone that is so present in my life and faithful that it finally happened.
I had been working on Mark's laptop doing homework and getting easily distracted by the television show he was watching. When I was almost finished, his show was over and he came and sat with me at the kitchen counter. Instead of going to bed, I asked if he would read to me. He grabs the current issue of Time magazine and starts reading a story about Christian music and the influence that Calvinism has on music, down to the decade.
I realize this might not excite most of you, but initially the story was intriguing. And honestly, if someone loves you enough to read to you instead of crawling into a warm bed, you're bound to listen to almost anything just to get them to stay with you.
Apparently, a hymn popular in the past few decades has been "The Old Rugged Cross," my mother's favorite hymn. So I say, I know that one. And begin to sing it for him.
As told to me a year ago by one of my best friends--a killer good lead guitar player--while singing Cake's "Stick Shifts and Safety Belts" at 1 a.m. with a room full of stoned hippies: "Morg, I think you're tone deaf."
You can imagine how well this went, singing a hymn with no music. I realize this and look to see if I can find a tune to sing along with. Here is what I find:
http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/o/r/oruggedc.htm
The music is absolutely awful, along with the photo of the man. Yet I continue to sing through the chorus and another verse. And what do you think Mark did during this fiasco? He sat, patient and smiling, just listening to me. I called it quits after another go through the chorus and then we both cracked up. And finally, I know what it feels like to be loved for all the good and all the not so good.

Do you have anything intriguing and not so secret that you'd love to share about your love? I'd love to hear about it.

Southern Hospitality: Heritage not Hate?

I like to play this game with myself. I mostly play it in the car. Or while walking my dog. Or going to the library. Anytime I'm out and about in the South.
It's called, "Count the Confederate Flags."
I see them as patches on jackets, as bumper stickers, but by far my favorite is flying from the back of a beat up pickup truck.
I saw seven in half an hour on my way home from work a few weeks ago. This has really started to bother me. I want to know the meaning behind why people still fly the Confederate flag with such pride knowing the feeling of such deep suppression degradation that it carries for an entire race of people.
So, I decided to begin asking people what it means to them, and perhaps start documenting this journey, whether it be through photographs or interviews.
I plan to make this journey with sincerity, mostly to save myself from name calling or worse, but I do believe this will stir up some knowledge I have been ignorant to in the past.
I hope I make this worth your while, too.

too good to keep for myself: California Goodwill and Abbey Road

three shots of scotch and this is what you get...‏

Don't act like you've never been there....these is down-trodden times....

So, I saunter into the Goodwill the other day like I own the place. I mean, I come from Kentucky, where you walk into a thrift shop, you see an old baseball card you know is worth $20, and you talk the 70-year-old woman behind the counter into selling it to you for 30 cents. It sounds cruel I know, but you only think so because I said she was 70. This is the way of the world though, and I'll expect no less when I'm 70, if I make it to 70.

Anyhow, my friend informs me that the way of the thrift-store world doesn't apply in well-cultured California, to where I recently moved -- the location of the Goodwill mentioned in the above sauntering.

So, I saunter into the Sacramento Goodwill. Of course, I am immediately bombarded with the smell of dusty old clothes and that sound of those plastic coat hangers with the steel hooks grating against metal as mostly women finger quickly through throw-away yellow and orange dresses from some recently deceased aunt's collection, looking for a find.
Looking for a find. Oh, I found my find -- mind you. And I was sure I had it cheap because I saw the store clerk behind that glass counter they put all those red and yellow shit-ugly bead necklaces inside -- like they're worth something.

I ain't even gonna waste your time with the "I ain't racist but" schpeal, because that shit is tired.

The guy behind the counter was a 70-year-old wrinkledly old black man with a raspy-voiced laugh that echoed harsh -- like you know he used to play a lot of poker -- but the dude was so old that I figured he didn't know shit.

So there it was. My find. Not much really I guess, but this is Goodwill, so you take what you can get. Things are supposed to be like $2. One gets excited easily.

Look it up on eBay. About $30 for an original, plastic-sealed, vinyl Beatles Abbey Road. I ain't even that much of a Beatles fan, but I know a find when I see it. (I already have one, just not in mint condition like this one).

So, it's got a $25 price tag on it. What, suddenly Goodwill got the Internet?? Is there that much difference in a mid-western Goodwill and a left-coast Goodwill (I heard that, "left-coast", on the radio today out here, bunch of wackos).

I called Old Smokey over and I'm like, "Is this an old price tag from somewhere else"???

To continue with the theme of sauntering, he actually did saunter over, with a swagger, kind of a bouncing on his hips in a dance sort of way to prolong the time it took him to get to the counter. He bounced enough to knock 20 years off of what I expected was his age. He did it just to make sure that I understood that he was no fool.

"Maaaannn....." he actually paused like this, the old shit. "Thaaatt's Abbey Raaaoooaaad."

What the hell, I said to myself. Why would a a crotchety old retired poker-playing black man know jack about the Beatles?

Well, he did. The find was done, and I was stuck while Kartika painstakingly slowly grated through those steel-hooked plastic coat hangers....Why, I don't know, but I bought one T-shirt that with a Camaro and a cop car that says "Smokey and the Bandit" on it.



~Sent to me via email from J March 2009

My Jesus, My Savior: God Understands

http://www.matt-hughes.com/images/blogimages/Meet_Logan.wmv

My return to Jax

Southern Hospitality: Low country boil, where have you been hiding?

Beaufort, South Carolina, couldn't have been a more perfect weekend. Peace was present with every member of the family, even as I was greeted the first time, and with a warm, loving, unexpected hug. It's life as I always imagined people might have lived, but with much more fun and relaxation. And a wonderful partner to share it with. I'm still shining from the trip.

too good to keep for myself: Sadie and her squirrels

anyways it was kinda cute..Sadie's little rebellion ;) Since I was getting really cold and Sadie showed no inclination towards pooping I hurried her back home. I think the early hour of the day and all the birds and squirrels outside got her really excited so she did'nt wanna go home. man I had to drag her. then we got home and she visibly sulked. went and sat behind J's chair. then i kinda felt bad so I tried to get her to play with her bunny....(and I had played with her before and she had never been that rough)..thats when she started spazzing out around me. It was a little scary and a little funny. it was identical to Ms.kitty's spazzing..feral look in the eyes and all. but her size being 5 times larger kinda scared me. so she kept doing these wild circles around me barking the whole time , then jumped on the couch and crouched there then jumped down towards me almost knocking me down...then about 10 minutes later she calmed down but still seemed a little upset. I really did'nt know what to do so i just let her be. she came around by afternoon and even played with me and from then on it was back to normal. I took her out in the evening and late yesterday night and she was fine!!! this morning too!!! moral of the story: dont come between Sadie and her squirrels!!!

I loved having her. she's so cute when I take her out. she has to sniff EVERYTHING. the grass, some dog's old pee, she even adopted a flattened roadkill (formerly a squirrel... i think) and wanted to take it home. hahahahhaaaaaaaaa and she nearly jumped out of her leash in fright today when a bigger and blacker dog barked at us. I will miss the little girl and our walks.
~July 2007 my lady K

"like to clean up after they self"

yes hi i am looking for a room mate someone who can pay there rent on time and someone who has a job. i need a room mate who is nice like to cook and like to clean up after they self. me i am a very nice person to get along with i have kids that come over on the weekend and they love people so i hope you like kids too. and you have to by food for the house i will help out to. you can call me at 614-431-5765

(one example that I found on Craig's List while searching for a roommate in Ohio 2008)

too good to keep for myself: lunch interview etiquette

So I have a lunch interview with one of the childrens hospitals PI next friday and I checked out online on lunch interview etiquettes. All the advice I found was very entertaining. Here is a snippet:

Do not:

• Sneeze on food.
• Dunk bread in soup.
• Be rude to the waiter.
• Get drunk.
• Speak with your mouth full of food.
• Chew with your mouth open.

~from K

My Jesus, My Savior: Live the gospel

"Preach the gospel at all times. If necessary, use words."
~ St. Francis of Assisi

I cherish these moments.

I saw her as I was pulling my car into the post office. She reminded me of my Grammy, if Grammy were African-American, walked with a cane, about a hundred pounds heavier, and wore a floral nighty in public. A floral nighty she wore, but only for the family to see.

But there she was, nearly crawling into the post office, barely able to hold herself up, with a handful of letters. I hoped that I would be able to see her face. And sure enough, I got the chance. After juggling to get her letters in the slot, she walked toward the inner double doors to wait in the long line. Oh, I hope someone loves me enough to rub my feet when I'm that old. She just looked like she needed a good rub. I stepped over and held the door open for her. It took her a while to get through, and then I held the door until the line got short enough for her to enter completely. It lasted about two minutes or so, which is a long time when you're being watched by about ten people. I didn't mind, though, because I still pictured my Grammy, and if she were alive and in floral print, I hope someone would cherish her just as much as I cherished this woman. May God bless her.

As for my next stop--the Salem Library. It's really an oversize room with a couple of old computers that run Windows 98 and tons of kids books, romance novels, and books on tape. Rockin', I know. Since both librarians know my aunt and uncle, I was promptly told twice to make sure I don't forget to take my aunt's book with me when I leave. After my thirty minute computer session, rudely taking up the kids' after-school computer game battle time, I grab the book to courier home and walk outside and what do I see? A little dog that looks like Toto, only much cuter, waiting outside, peeking through the glass. I ask a woman if that's her dog. Nope. So as I open the door, here's what goes down.

Poochie pushes to try to get in.
"Umm, excuse me mister, but I don't see a library card. I don't think they'll let you in."
Poochie stares at me with tilted head, as they usually do when I speak to them.

As I walk past him, I realize the reason why I've been carrying around a dog chew stick (aka chew-chew) in my purse for the last 3 months. I dig around to the bottom of my purse and pull it out. Poochie's eyes double in size and instantly he becomes my best friend. I make the hand off and he runs to the bushes to savor his prize.

I still have no idea whose poochie he is, but I love him anyway.

I do believe these wonderful beings were put in my life for a reason, and I see them as gifts from God.

Southern Hospitality: Lakeside Lovin'

I found these lovely ladies posed on a picnic. Being the upstanding citizen that he is, and one of the many reasons why I'm so proud to be with him, Mark of course had to stop and dispose of this fine art. I just want to know that whoever the artist was who had the idea to create such a raw moment, I was there to appreciate it. So here it is, my first lesbian couple in the South. I'm so happy to know that homosexuality does exist in the South.

too good to keep for myself: playin' opossum

Dean and I killed a possum last night...well he did. I came back from the gym and somehow the was a possum near the front porch. Fedor and Dutch were smelling it and when I asked Fedor about it he thought he had done something wrong so he ran off. However, as I began to inspect and poke it with a stick I realized it was 'playing possum" so I kinda freaked and then Dean came outside and i explained the situation to him. We decided to get a shovel and Dean dispatched of the animal with a few powerful wacks. I guess Fedor must have found it, but we killed it and threw it in the neighbors yard. Us 3, possums and woodland creatures 0. Oh yeah, Ragu killed a mouse yesterday, so I guess that counts too so its 4 to zero.

~From Fedor's daddy December 2007

My Jesus, My Savior: Catch a Monkey

I had a few plans to better myself while being in a new state. I have never been around so many emotionally and spiritually healthy people before. They have been more encouraging than I could have hoped. Spiritually, I wanted to grow stronger. I had a wonderful summer and felt strengthened by what I saw in Moldova, but I fell apart when I came back home. I don't understand how I can go from being so close to God to being so far from God.

I have had many confirmations that I am currently where God wants me to be, whether it's my health that is prospering, my emotional strength, and now my spiritual strength. I decided that because I didn't have much of a social life anymore and had some extra time on my hands that I would sign up for some Christian classes offered through churches in the area. In February, I will be in three classes. Each one so far has really stirred up some cobwebs deep within me and I know it's not going to be easy flushing those out, but I'm looking forward to the spiritual growth.

So here's the humor. My Sunday evening class 'Search for Significance' started out with a question: How do you catch a monkey in the wild? Yes, alive. It's quite simple, actually. You just place an object inside a jar or gourd that won't come out and drill or cut a hole in the side that the monkey can stick his or her hand into and grab onto that object. Once the monkey grabs onto that object, he or she will never let go. Then you can come down and scoop up your monkey with a burlap sack. Unbelievable, but true.

The follow up question was 'What's inside your gourd that you just won't let go?' Depending on the size of your gourd....mine fills the room ...you might have quite a lot of problems or situations that you can't quite let go. Unforgiveness is a big one for me, and to quite a lot of people. I just don't quite know how to let things completely go and move on.

What's the use in dwelling on events that have happened in the past? How do I move on? I know for one thing that this is not something I can do myself. Just as I have been forgiven and loved unconditionally through the love of Jesus Christ, I am commanded to extend that love and forgiveness to others, no matter what the circumstance. It just doesn't come easy, does it?

But God is giving me more to live for every day. I see now that God needs me to clear out the cobwebs and make room for more love. Yet another confirmation that I'm right where I need to be.

At Last

Meant for each other...

southern hospitality: 'They're not NKOTB anymore'

I've been living below the Mason Dixon line for almost three months now. People talk about southern hospitality all the time, but it's not really people being nice to you. I don't think they know how to be rude or ignore people. My radar was a lot stronger when I first moved here. While I still have the feeling that I'm an alien transported from a different planet, things aren't quite as shocking now as at first. Although, I will never get used to the three Confederate flags I pass on the way to work.

The day before Halloween, I venture into 'town' to open a bank account. 'Town' is a land of strip malls--something not too unfamiliar in Ohio. Hoping not to make eye contact with anyone and just 'be,' I sit down to wait and pull out my book while in the waiting room at the bank. An old woman just has to speak to me and comment on what I'm doing. "Yep, I'm reading." And then finally here she comes. My favorite southerner thus far. We'll just call her Tammy. Tammy is in her mid-thirties, dyed blond hair with tons of make-up and a bit overweight. I step into her tiny, depressing bank office and would like to get this done as soon as possible. Mini blinds depress me.

In the midst of all the paperwork, Tammy mentions that she went to a concert last night and she's a bit tired. What concert? I ask. New Kids on the Block. And inside my head, I'm thinking that if I ever went to see NKOTB, I wouldn't ever tell anyone. But what comes out of my mouth is, "They're all still alive?" I have no idea how I didn't burst out laughing. But I managed to somehow let Tammy know that I was interested to get as much information out of her that I could. "I never really got into NKOTB," I said. "They're not NKOTB anymore," Tammy responded without a smile. Whoops. She then tells me what songs they sang, favorite hits which include "You've got the right stuff...baby!" "Step by Step" and "Hangin' Tough." I wanna puke all over myself, but after twenty minutes, all we've talked about is this band I thought for sure had fallen into the cracks and would only be brought out by VH1's Pop Up Video. By the end, she showed me her t-shirt she was wearing under her jacket and a nearly life size magazine with all their photos in it. I was dying. And then I realized that there are more people in this world like her if these punks are still holding concerts, and I stopped laughing on the inside...until I got to my car, of course, and called Kartika, who wondered why stuff like this always happens to me. I'm not sure, but I am grateful that people like Tammy do exist. I guess someones got to hang tough and keep bad 80's and 90's music alive.