I am not making this up.
And I have pictures to prove it.
The first odd thing I noticed was the Pensacola International Airport suddenly had a new logo on the sliding glass entry doors, right where the old one was…
It used to say Pensacola INTERNATIONAL Airport.
Intergalactic. INTERGALACTIC.
While I was waiting to pick up my friend, I noticed this right next to me in the waiting area… But, wait! There’s more…
(This is just a short post to let you all know I’m still around. I will be posting about Florida shortly)
The above referenced song title and lyrics were the first thing I thought of as reality set in: Thunder and lightning storm. Lightning crashes directly overhead. Power flickers, TV screen freezes. The smell of burnt plastic, and of electrically charged air (a rather unique smell).
The backup batteries and converter did their jobs so well, quickly bringing the TV back on, it took a few minutes for me to realize I was no longer running on shore (hookup/city) power. But then I noticed some little things weren’t on: the fridge had flipped from electric to gas, the socket where my phone was (no longer) charging, the Christmas lights in the living room, the microwave clock… That’s serious. When the microwave is out, I am NOT a happy camper glamper.
When the rain slowed down, I switched to generator power and began checking my favorite things: TVs – check; microwave – check; fridge – check; toaster oven – check; water heater – check; oven – check; furnace – check; AC unit – ….. AC unit – ……… AC unit – …………..
Ohferfuckssake.
The blower works, But, wait! There’s more…
Probably not a place in the Texas panhandle.
Hi, remember me? I’m that gal who used to blog here. Yeah, yeah, so I’m flaky when feeling overwhelmed. But I make up for it with my vivacious personality. Heh.
Another leap of faith was in my near future, and this time I was afraid to jump. Yes, I gave up my stick-and-brick (read “apartment in-between the city and the suburbs”) – before getting my RV – and that leap of faith felt more comfortable than this one. I was super excited about it, but I was also nervous about temporarily relocating to the panhandle from the start – something about it never felt right. My friends and fellow workcampers knew all the details and none of them thought it was a good idea, either. But I really wanted this to work – it would mean I could travel all the time!
It was for that commission-only sales job for which I’d get to travel all the time. This is the same job I already tried it out in two neighboring towns… the one that didn’t sell (100% commission = no pay if there are no sales), but I got to meet some of the rudest people in Texas. Oh joy.
This time the owner was willing to pay for me to go up there and provide $200/wk as a base for the first two weeks. After my last experience of working for a week and a half without making one sale, I decided it was too risky to try it again that far away from civilization. I already burned up resources when I tried it the first time and couldn’t risk it happening again.
The funny thing is I was all set to go, but was nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs But, wait! There’s more…
I could’ve just said “It’s hot,” but folks get a little tired of hearing the same phrase over and over.
God is cooking Texas. My cousin thinks He’s cooking southern Utah is for dessert.
The weather is a big topic in Texas. The weather channel is included in the channel lineup as if it were one of the major networks. It will come as no surprise that Texans also have colorful sayings describing the weather.
I have previously written about how “It’s raining like a cow pissin’ on a flat rock.” Then there is the title of this post, “Hotter than a June bride in a feather bed.” And another saying describing the weather in a most colorful way, one I opted not to use as a title today, “Hotter than a whore on nickle night.”
Ahem. Did I mention the sayings were colorful?
That’s your lesson for today. If you happen to be in an area where the weather is a regular topic, you now have some sayings to liven up the conversation. Or get a date. Could go either way.
I’d love to know any others you’ve heard (about the weather, not pickup lines) – I need more blog post titles. No, seriously.
In homage to the heat, I present you with a lovely day on the lake. But, wait! There’s more…
I don’t often go to see old stuff, unless of course, the weird and wacky roadside attraction I’m visiting happens to have been created a long time ago and is therefore old by default.
Not this time. This attraction’s only claim to roadside attraction fame is age. Okay, okay, some folks prefer the word “historical”. Whatever. It’s old. This particular city is rich in history, as is all of Texas. And it’s all about a cannon.
Gonzales, Texas, is all about a cannon. An old cannon.
The “Come and Take It” cannon.
From the Gonzales,Texas, Wikipedia page: But, wait! There’s more…
You all know how I endeavor to educate you in some small way, to provide you with some tidbit of useless useful information that you might share while idly standing at the office water cooler. While this one isn’t as interesting as say, the time we all learned about Spider Prostitution, it is worthy of sharing with you, and perhaps with your friends and coworkers. However, it does relate in a small way to office attire. Just wait, you’ll see. And you may never be the same. (I haven’t been, but then again this has been “a thing” for many years and, much like spider prostitution, I only learned about it much later in life. It’s likely you are more in touch with the world and already know about this.)
While standing around with a group of friends and acquaintances, I notice the acquaintance in front of me is staring at me feet. He’s staring hard.
To give you a little background, this is a “business casual/dressy” environment and I’m wearing an unremarkable outfit, common office attire. And a pair of blue suede, closed-toe pumps.
Pye and my blue suede shoes, with toe cleavage. Pye has a shoe fetish.
The guy briefly looks up to my face and promptly declares he loves how my feet look in the shoes.
This was more than your usual, “I like your (shoes/hair/eyes)” comment. He was practically salivating, much like someone who’s just seen an ice cream cone for the first time after months of sweltering hot summer. But, wait! There’s more…
Author’s note: This is another rant. I apologize. My doctor tells me that after the surgery, my hormones will be back to normal and I’ll feel a lot better. I’ll be stuck at home for two weeks and plan to do some writing about happy stuff, and possibly posting pics from my surgery. (Warnings will be posted for the squeemish.)
Unless you like unsolicited advice, don’t ever tell your relatives or close friends you’ve got a serious illness.
I’m just saying.
Remember when I blogged about looking for a common-law husband with good insurance because ObummerCare sucks? (No, I didn’t find a husband.) I might have mentioned needing surgery.
Well, I do. It’s major surgery, but nothing that millions of women haven’t gone through. Side note: Those of you men hoping I would someday birth your children, well… sorry, but that ship is about to sail.
But here’s the thing that I’m going to rant about…
Do not ever tell your family you’re sick. I know, that sounds horrible. I used to be just like you all, thinking keeping the health secret was a terribly cruel thing to do to your family. They only want to be there for you because they care, they just want to “help”! But, wait! There’s more…
Happy New Year, my dear Kernutties!
New Year’s is my favorite holiday, for a lot of reasons, but mostly for the fresh beginning. (I’ve always held a secret desire to get married on New Year’s Day.) I read something today that said we don’t have to wait a whole year, but instead can make every day a Happy New Day.
So, Happy New Day!
Today, January 1st, 2015, I turned fourteen years sober. That day is a bit unique as a sobriety date and people often ask me, “How did you do it?”
“I passed out before midnight on December 31st,” I deadpan. (Only alcoholics will get this.)
Most folks answer, “One day at a time.”
The truth is it had nothing to do with passing out before midnight; I couldn’t have done it without the fellowship, and those who’ve gone before me, lighting the way. Thank you all, for my sobriety.
This includes my readers – you have been there for me, too, whether you know it or not. Your comments, your emails, even those of you who don’t contact me (I see your numbers in the stats), just knowing you’re out there and interested enough to read my drivel makes me feel connected to you all in some small way and I love you for it.
Since it’s my sober birthday, I get to write what I want. Today I want to write one of my less-than-stellar “poems” (for lack of a better word). It doesn’t rhyme well, and it’s probably grammatically incorrect (not that I’d know). This one isn’t even happy or funny, but this blog doubles as my therapist. Sorry. Feel free to skip this and come back for the next post, which is bound to be better by default.
Looking out the small window of the 737 as it flew into San Jose Airport I saw one thing: Sameness.
Miles and miles of sameness. It was as if someone took a house-shaped cookie cutter and laid out millions of identical little houses on cookie sheets made of grass, bordered by roads of concrete and asphalt. Hundreds of thousands of cars zoomed in between the green blocks of sameness.
Looking out that window, I felt surprise. Surprise I’d lived in the middle of all that sameness for so many years and never realized how “same” it looked from above. The “30-thousand-foot view”, to use an already overused term, is one of sameness. I was a small part of that sameness for so many years and never ever comprehended it; it all appears somewhat unique from street level.
The familiarity of the sameness was warm and comforting, like a favorite soft blanket. The traffic, not so much. The traffic was more like an itchy wool blanket with moth holes. The convenience of having all manner of stores and restaurants within a few miles of my location at any given time felt luxurious. But that convenience is a double-edged sword: When you don’t have to go far to get anything you need, you rarely, if ever, venture out of the sameness. All you ever experience is sameness.
A young man of about 17 But, wait! There’s more…
Another one of those anniversaries of my birthday is approaching. I’ve celebrated a few anniversaries of my 27th birthday, and even anniversaries of my 29th, but that may have to change.
Old house in Texas. I love photographing old, abandoned barns and houses.
I don’t feel (or generally act) my age and I prefer it that way. Life is what you make it, and I’m making mine young and fun as long as I can. In fact, after interviewing the centenarian a couple months ago and seeing the high percentage of centenarians in this area, I realize I may very well still be in my youthful “prime,” relatively speaking.
But then I find some jerk standing on my lawn.
I have a fenced yard. A clearly fenced yard. There is NO mistaking the fence. It has lights so it can be seen at night. Nevertheless, some fool But, wait! There’s more…