I'm Back In the Saddle Again

Checking in!

I'm back from my vacation. The parents and the kiddo and I had a great time. We ended up driving about 2700 miles total. It was a bit more rushed this time around than it was 2 years ago since we'd added one destination (Chicago) to our itinerary. This time around was a lot more tiring for my parents -- so much so that if we do it again next year or a few years from now we'll take a plane. If you knew my mom you'd have a surprised and shocked look on your face about now. My mom's never been on a plane and has always sworn she wouldn't do it. When she said that was what she intended to do I could tell she was even more tired than she was letting on. Frankly, I'm pleased as punch. The drive is brutal, my parents are getting older, and I don't want to do it again.

During my time in Chicago I had a wonderful reunion with the girl who was my next door neighbor and best friend during kindergarten and first grade. (I saw her briefly when we were 15 on a visit back but except for that, we hadn't seen each other since we were 7.) We spent an evening at her house and she and her husband threw a backyard cookout for us. They currently own the house three doors down from the house I used to live in and two doors down from the one she grew up in and in which her father still lives. It was fantastic to see her and her family and she and I really bonded again. She's a lovely person.

As an aside -- her brother, 7 years older than we are, was the one I contacted to find her again. He didn't remember me from Adam and hadn't spoken to me in 35 years and yet, by my picture on Facebook, he began to flirt, calling me sexy and cute and saying we should date and all. Oh sheesh! I don't want a relationship (least of all with the brother of a friend of mine!) and I wish I'd had the presence of mind to ask him, "Oh, well, thanks! But hmmmmm, it depends. Are you rich?"

I figure if he can judge whether he wants to date me (i.e., have sex with me) by a picture, I can judge whether I want to date him (i.e., have sex with him) by the size of his wallet. If we're comparing pleasures, a European tour is just as enjoyable as a good lay. Don't ever think I can't be as shallow as a man can!

The funny and priceless moment of the trip? My dad -- bless his heart -- couldn't seem to get it through his head that his 40-something daughter had been driving for over two decades and could probably read roadsigns and directions even in unfamiliar territories (especially given that for 10 years my career was reading maps!) So he'd sit in the back seat making comments about how he could see my exit coming up or something of that nature and fall back on, "Well, I'm just saying!" when he was called on it. But my kiddo, my brilliant, funny, sarcastically witty kiddo, who was sitting in the backseat with him, had finally had enough of this on the way home. To yet another upcoming exit comment, kiddo just calmly said, "Soooo, pawpaw, what are you now, a tour guide?"

I nearly spewed my mouthful of coffee through my nose.

That's my girl!

Other than the great times with family and friends and pursuing a hobby of mine that often requires travel, I learned something else of vital importance on this vacation. I mentioned in my last post about those silly throat issues I've had since last year. Something that I sort of wondered about (or sort of already knew) demonstrated itself clearly to me over the week and a half we were gone. I noticed my throat issues went away significantly during my vacation. As in, I forgot to take my peppermint oil pills and didn't even realize it until the day before we were scheduled to leave.

Upon realizing this I also realized another important thing. I was breathing. Deep and normal breaths. Not holding my breath without realizing it until I drew in a deep breath on purpose. Not the shallow ones that I'd grown accustomed to taking with my chest tight. Not ones that I had to slow down or speed up to feel right. Deep, normal, relaxed breaths. I realized this because the morning I awoke to head home, the old style of breathing and such began again. By the time I arrived in my parking lot I was feeling my throat for the first time in a week.

Sonofabitch. It's stress. Fucking stress. More than that -- anxiety. It's slowly been building up in me for years now, I guess. I just never really noticed it. Perhaps that was what ate my gall bladder away and began my GERD. Perhaps it's causing my migranes. Perhaps, even now, it's destroying the tissues of my throat. It seems finally my body's had enough and it's letting me know it can't manage it any longer without physical repercussions. I need to stop it before it does any more damage.

So what am I going to do about it?

((Song: "Back In The Saddle Again" by Aerosmith. Lyrics here:
http://www.aerosmithfans.com/cds/words/0401.html ))

Act Your Age, Mama, Not Your Shoe Size

This'll be a short little post this time around. It's late and I should be in bed. Instead I've been surfing the net looking at pictures of that gorgeous man, Ian Somerhalder. He plays Damon Salvatore on "The Vampire Diaries." Now if HE was a vampire in real life he could bite me anytime he liked.....

Er, as long as he gave me some notice. Maybe a few weeks or so. Why? So I could go get lipo and a tummy tuck. After all, I need to look GOOD if I'm going to be immortal!

Kiddo told me something amusing last weekend that I'm just now getting around to posting. She and her dad had been planning a pool get-together with their cousin for weeks. A few days before the scheduled get together, Yo finds out her sister is going to meet some guy that Yo's been wanting her to get together with. Yo decides she wants to be there with her sister and wants to stay home instead of go to the pool party thing.

Now if it'd been me I would have scooted the ex and the kiddo off to the pool party and stayed behind to make sure my sis hooked up with some guy if it had been that important to me. But not Yo! She wanted the ex and the kiddo to cancel their plans and stay home with her! Hah! The ex apparently tried to explain to her that this had all been planned for weeks and that it was rude to cancel at the last minute but Yo would hear none of it and -- according to the kiddo -- she stomped out of the house in a fit of temper and went to the park. Sheeeeeesh. I almost feel for the guy.

Almost.

Kiddo said the ex told her that she could go on by herself if she liked but she didn't. I think she really wanted to spend the time with her dad. So he caved. Dumbass. All that does is train her to act like a child if she wants to get her way. Ah well. We all make our beds, don't we?

((Song: "Kiss" by Prince. Lyrics here:
http://www.project80s.com/lyrics/song-lyrics.php?song=kiss-prince-revolution))

Must Have Used The Wrong Line

Filed in the "just when you think you've seen everything" file....

I have an imaginary point system when it comes to men and I'd wager most women (and men!) do too. Like most people, I have automatic deductions and additions that I apply. Do you smoke? Sorry, no. Are you really listening to me? Score! Look like you haven't bathed in a while? Bzzzzzz, move along. Are you into me without being disrespectful or lewd? Dingdingding! Wear your jeans too tight and under your gut and your hair too 'business in the front and party in the back'? See ya!

Some of my rules are obvious ones and others deeply personal. I don't have a lot of rules, but the ones that I do have are hard and fast. Otherwise, I think I'm pretty fair. I start a man out at the base point of zero, and then I let the chips fall where they may. It usually doesn't take long for the guy to provide me with reasons to add or subtract. Experience has taught me that it's generally a pretty good system.

My good friend Harl's mother passed away this past weekend. I took off work for a few hours this afternoon to attend her memorial service. After the service we all went to the church's dining room to eat lunch and I was seated across from Harl and her husband.

Soon a man with curly, probably dyed surfer-blond hair and who looked to be in his mid-50's sat down in the chair to my left. He took one obvious and appraising look at me and said, "Who are you?"

Before I had the chance to respond to what I hadn't decided was either a direct or a downright rude inquiry, Harl's husband told him that I was Harl's friend from high school. He then introduced the man to me as Harl's uncle, her mother's brother. Ahhhh. I dismissed the rudeness/directness issue immediately, taking into account that the service had been rough on all Harl's family members. I introduced myself by name and he responded in kind. I gave my condolences and we made small talk while we settled down to eat.

Imagine my surprise when not even a minute had passed before I had to whip out my internal slide rule.

Let's see......he tried to impress me with his Harley (-5), he placed his phone down on the table between us and let me know I needed to call my number on it (-5), and he told me to walk slower the next time I went back to the buffet so he could enjoy the view (-10). All those, while horrible attempts at pickup lines, were at least amusing so I comped him (+5). But oh, he wasn't done. Ten minutes into his sell he asked my name again (-5.) And finally, he capped it off by telling me he wasn't into relationships (which actually upped him +5!) but he lost those points in nothing flat by saying it was because he preferred to love 'em and leave 'em.

I had to respond to that last comment. "Not really selling yourself here," I told him dryly. That made Harl laugh out loud. He tried to explain it away by saying he'd given me a bonus because instead of finding out he was an ass after he kissed up to me for months, he was being honest and making me aware that he was an ass upfront. I had to score him a few points for a quick recovery (+5) but it still didn't make up for the whole impending ass-ness possibility (-20.)

All in all, he didn't do well at all, checking in at -35. Even at that score he was in my Oh-Hell-No category. But trying to pick up a chick at his sister's memorial service?

Insta-FAIL!

((Song: "Right Place Wrong Time" by Dr. John. Lyrics here:
http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/sahara/rightplacewrongtime.htm))

Ain't No Law Against It Yet

My kiddo and I were talking online last night. I love talking to her on instant messenger programs; she and I communicate so much better online than in person or on the phone. I suspect it's because she doesn't have to worry about meeting my eyes, monitoring her tone of voice, or risking an accidental eye roll that I may interpret as disrespectful or something. Whatever works, I say.

So last night I was telling her about my trip out of town this weekend and meeting a girl (well, young woman) who had two moms. Kiddo thought this was totally cool and expressed a wish that she had two moms or two dads. I laughed and told her that I was sorry I couldn't fulfill that particular wish because I simply liked boys too much. I told her more about my meeting with this young woman, whose moms had made a documentary called the "Dildo Diaries," which all interested parties can read about right here.

Extrapolated, the documentary concerns a absolutely archaic section of the Texas Penal Code (yeah, pun definitely not intended.) Section 43.23 is as follows: "A person commits an offense if he ... possesses with intent to wholesale promote any obscene material or obscene device. A person who possesses six or more obscene devices ... is presumed to possess them with intent to promote the same."

I was telling my kiddo about this and and at one point she made me spit out my tea with her witty comeback. Damn, but my kid is quick! I'm so proud!!!

Anyway, our conversation:

Me: Texas doesn't allow any more than 6 dildos or else you're a felon! That obviously targets women because hello, men wouldn't have them to actually use on a regular basis. And we can't have our women replacing men with batteries, now can we? No way, no sir! Not in Texas!

Kiddo: Yeah, mom. I can imagine it now. The dildo police at your door, guns drawn, yelling "Ma'am? Ma'am? PUT.....the dildo......ON THE FLOOR!"


And don't think I won't wax very poetic about this subject in the near future. All funnies aside, this ridiculous fucking law really chaps my ass.


((Song: "she Bop" by Cyndi Lauper. Lyrics here:
http://www.oldielyrics.com/lyrics/cyndi_lauper/she_bop.html ))