Ouch

Note to self: Having a YC jar candle lid fall on your head hurts. A lot.

Please refrain from doing it again in the future.

Monday the 13th

I normally am not overly superstitious. I like black cats. Broken mirrors do not freak me out. I do not cry over spilt salt (or was that milk?). And I do not particularly understand an aversion to Friday the 13th. It's Friday. I've rarely had a Friday so bad the weekend could not make it better.

However, Monday the 13th is something else entirely. It's Monday. It is normally my luck to have bad things happen on Mondays. And whatever happens, you still have the entire week to wade through. Ugh.

I usually try to ignore it. Kinda the "if I can't see you, you can't see me" mentality. Mature, I know. Sometimes it works though. Last week I jinxed myself. Worse, I put it in writing. On a blog, I wrote, "In exactly 2 hours and 45 minutes, I can officially claim to have survived this week." While technically, this was true, I forgot Monday the 13th was around the corner and therefore have been given another hell week to get through.

You see, I am part of what is normally a 3 person team that is down to 2 people. The other person was on vacation last week, leaving me to be the one left. One hour and forty-five minutes after I wrote those fateful words, I got a call from my co-worker and friend saying she was in the hospital. Turns out she will be in the hospital a whole week, then out from work another 6 weeks or so. Right now it sounds like she will be fine, for which I am extremely thankful. On the selfish side, it looks like I will have to scrap a long weekend that I was soooo looking forward to, deal with the transition of the new addition to my group, and handle the work of three people.

I'm just going to warn people now. There will be a serious dent in the world's chocolate supply after this week.

***Update: Well, hockey pucks. I have no idea if I'm still on for Dayton or not. Right after I was informed that my co-worker will definitely be out the next 6-9 weeks, I received the formal approval of my vacation request for those days. Which will be while she is gone. I have no idea what my department would do without an assistant for two whole days. Guess we will have to wait and see.

I've Been Googled

My sister has taken on this enormous task of doing our family tree. She takes her laptop and scanner with her when she visits relatives and scans family photos. Getting all the names has always been the tricky part, but she is doing one heck of a job. She even started collecting the little funny family stories too.

Anyway, she was telling me that she was Googling our family name, looking for wayward relatives and she told me that she found me on the CB Bar and Grill. I just burst out laughing. I probably should put something out there that would send people here because the Bar & Grill will just confuse the hell out of people if they are looking for relatives.

So anyway, that's my big news of the day. I've been Googled.

Well, it's too hot to do much else.

Rain

After having almost no rain for what seemed like months, we are in the middle of our third day of scattered storms here. Yay for the farmers, but I think the rest of us are tired of it now.

The rain may explain an annoying problem I've been having this week. It has taken an act of god to get me out of bed in the morning. And I've been tired all day. I get to work, and I tell my co-workers that I need an IV with Diet Coke in it. They laugh, but I'm starting to think it's a good idea.

Today it's Vanilla Coke Zero, but I'm still thinking about an IV.

What's worse, I have a desk job where I do not necessarily have to move around much. Falling asleep at my desk is a real possibility. If I had an office instead of being out in the middle of the department floor, falling asleep would be a certainty.

Does anyone else have problems staying away on rainy days? What do you do to wake yourself up?

I'm off to take a short walk up and down the stairs a few times. If I don't get moving, I'll fall asleep sorting the mail.

Come on, people. That was funny.

Ok, so yes, I've been in a bit of a funk for the past week or so, but come on. You have to admit that the "flaming turd" quote from DSS was pretty funny in the last post.

Yes, it was at the end of a rather morbid entry, but it is just one of those things that happens. Well, to me anyway. I'll be in a funk, mourning the only way I know how, and something will happen that will make me laugh hard enough to lay an egg. It reminds me that life has ups as well as downs, and that I will remember the phrase "flaming turds" far longer than a bible verse at a funeral.

Of course, that just may be part of my problem. I really should brush up on my bible verses, but dang it, the flaming turd story is just too good to pass up.

Stick Me With A Fork, Part 2

My guinea pig up and died Saturday. If this isn't evidence that God has a twisted sense of humor, I don't know what is.

You see, on my last post I specifically forbade anyone else to die, that I was done with funerals. I suppose since technically Tiger wasn't a person, that left him out of the loop.

*Sigh* This really sucks.

It's been a rough week. A co-worker and friend passed away and I've been dealing with that both at work and at home. Then just as I was getting ready to leave for the funeral, I looked in on the guinea pig and found he had passed on as well.

I wonder if my friend likes guinea pigs.

It was left to me to break the news to my step-son. He already lost a hamster this year.

Me: Did you talk to your dad today?

Him: Not really.

Me: Did he tell you about the bad news?

Him: No.

Me: (muttering) Of course he didn't. Well, I've got some bad news to tell you then.

Him: How bad is it?

Me: Well, it's life.

Him: Okaaay.

Me: (taking a deep breath) Tiger passed away yesterday. I'm really sorry, bud.

Him: Well, that stinks.

Me: Yes, it does. It happened really fast and at least he isn't suffering.

Him: Trent's OK, right? (our dog)

Me: Yes. The vet said he is doing great.

Him: Good. That just really stinks about Tiger though. (A pause) Do you think the fireworks stand has any of those flaming turds left?

Me: What?

Him: Flaming turds. They are round and when you light them the turd comes out.

Me: Huh? You mean Snakes?

Him: Oh yeah. They look like turds though.

Ah yes. The brain of an 11 year old boy.

Meanwhile DH and I were digging a hole in the flower bed at 11:00 at night to bury Tiger so the neighbors wouldn't see. Like someone digging a hole in the dark isn't suspicious enough. Max (the hamster) is in an old check box in the other flower bed on the side of the house.

It is my most sincere wish that no one digs up the flower beds any time soon. I'd rather not explain all the bodies, however small.

Stick me with a fork. I'm done.

A quick recap, as I've been gone awhile.

DH came through his medical procedure just fine and is now doing much better. He had scar tissue in his throat that was triggering coughing fits. He had an upper GI scope and the doctor was able to biopsy off the skin causing problems. He is doing very well, sleeping better (finally!) and back to work. Whew! I'm glad that set of worries is out of the way.

We decided against getting another dog just yet. With DH's procedure and some other expenses that have come up, it didn't seem practical for right now. When we are ready, we will go the same route and look to adopt one through a shelter or rescue.

Sadly, one of my co-workers and friends passed away on Monday. It was a huge shock. There are three of us assistants that work in my department. One was on vacation, I was there and the third was missing. It was a surreal experience where you just keep hoping that there has just been a misunderstanding. My boss ended up having to contact her brother and the police to do a welfare check and that's when they found out she had passed in her sleep the night before. She was a very good person, endlessly patient with my questions and will be missed fiercely. I cannot even think about the turmoil that her absence will leave at work, as she knew everything and did all the "icky hard stuff".

So I am going to say that after this, I am officially done with funerals for the year. I absolutely forbid anyone else to die. Nope, that's it. Finis.

*Sigh* I'm hanging in here, but I'm going to buy "The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes" by Crusie et al tonight. I need a little distraction for a while.

So, how do you do it?

Blech. Time for a new chapter.

Yes, things are hectic. Ok. Things are REALLY hectic right now. And I'm one of those people who does not handle stress well. Thank Bob I get to snort candles at the candle store. I didn't think aroma therapy worked for me until I started working there. Feeling that tenseness in your shoulders? Grab a Vanilla Cupcake, Vanilla Caramel, Buttercream or Cranberry Chutney and take a deep breath. Aaah.

And yes, I noticed the theme too. Now if you'll kindly ignore the fact that I'm drooling on myself...

Life's not perfect, but a few seconds of sanity helps.

Of course, there are books. If my Saturday remains clear, I'll be reserving a few hours to read my latest library book and light a relaxing candle. Can't wait!

I know I need to exercise. I've been told - often- that it will help. Quite frankly, I have no routine and it shows. I have been doing more yard work lately but that only does so much. And then the rain messes up my schedule and I've got a jungle in my yard.

So here are my questions: What do you do to decompress when stress levels are going through the roof? And how do your motivate yourself to cut out some time to exercise?

In Memory, Part II

I've finally made it back. Physically, if not mentally.

Wilmington DE is definitely a 12 hour + trip, and I don't care what MapQuest says. DH, my sister and I left Friday morning at 8:30 AM. My other sister from Ohio had to work on Friday and flew into Philadelphia after work. As it turned out, we just reached Philly as her flight arrived so we swung by to pick her up. Then on to Wilmington. I think we got in around 11:30 PM.

The viewing for my uncle began at 8:30 AM on Saturday. The funeral was then set for 10:30. His widow has Alzheimer's and is in a very vocal and contrary stage, which made things interesting. Things were delayed several times, but finally everyone made it through with some degree of drama and some sedation involved. There was a lovely reception afterwards with lots of food (my family excels in food-oriented events). My folks took my sister back to the airport and we were finally able to crash at the hotel room. We had beautiful weather, and minimal headaches on the trip.

The trip back was relatively uneventful. We only made wrong turns twice, and I'd only consider the one time truly "lost". Funny, but even the not-so-nice areas have a certain charm when you are from out of town. We left at 8:30 AM from Wilmington and arrive back here in Lafayette at around 10:00 - 10:30 PM.

Yes, I feel like I've been hit by a cement truck today. Ugh. It's going to take awhile to recoup from this marathon.

Considering how close I came to saying, "Nope. Cannot do. Impossible," and then there was a tiny sliver of hope that made it possible. I still cannot believe I made it work. Uncle Ray was my godfather and I mourn the lack of time I spent with him. Years would go by between visits. I didn't get to tell him goodbye in person, and that is probably the biggest reason I was so upset about the thought of not being able to say a final goodbye at the funeral. Which is kinda silly if you think about it. I do believe you can say your goodbyes in your own time, at your own place, in your own way.

The trip was over 800 miles each way, and 8 of us from Indiana made the journey. For me at least, a large part of that was in support of my cousins and my father. Dad is not in the best of health, and Uncle Ray's death coming somewhat abruptly was a jolt. Hopefully, Dad will take it as a sign to take better care of himself.

Thanks for everyone's sympathies and hugs. It truly helped me start through this. I was pretty much able to keep it together until the first condolences started coming through. And that pretty much let me know just how much I was trying to juggle inside.

Thanks for sharing my quiet little corner with me.

You know when you want to laugh and really shouldn't ...

Ok, this is going to be a very low-brow, crass humor post. Maybe. Unless I find a way to BS my way around it.

(Yes, I am punchy again today. I think the sugar from the five chocolate chip cookies I ate finally kicked in.)

Ok, I just wrote a typo on one of those instant message thingamabobs and I can't stop laughing about it. It sounded painful. It sounded like an inner combustion problem. It sounded like a really gross case for House.

Actually the latter might not be so bad, as long as Wilson can tag along.

Back to the typo. It's like you know you shouldn't laugh when someone toots, but the expression on the lady's face beside him is priceless. And the more you try not to laugh, the funnier it gets.

I know. Sometimes you have to be there. Even worse, I was by myself on the instant message thingie when it happened. Kinda like the tree falling in the forest question.

Is it still funny if no one hears the joke? I'll let you know as soon as I'm no longer in danger of snorting myself inside out.

I just finished two books and I am trying to figure out why one took me two weeks to read and the other two days. Yes the one was slightly longer than the other, but I can't remember the last time it took me two weeks to read a book. Wait - I take that back. It was one of the Bronte novels whose title escapes me because it was a classic I never got around to reading before. I enjoyed the novel. I think it rhythm of the prose that took me so long. I don't know. Maybe there is something about the meter of speech from the 1800s or even the early 1900s that slows me up. In a way that is good, like savoring the taste of a new food and trying to decide if you like it or not.

Incidentally, I typically hate "the classics". I'm not too terribly fond of award winners either. I guess my beat comes from a different drummer. I did like "Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimh." But if someone offered me money to reread "Sister Carrie" I think I'd rather be driven over by a bus. In fact, I remember wishing a bus would run over her. I guess that would have been a hackney or hansom (sp?) cab back then, but you get the point.

Anyway, novel A was a mystery. I like mysteries. I inherited that from my dad. I think he at one time owned every Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie novel in paperback. This novel was by a reputable author with several other novels in print. Maybe it was because of the odd mood I've been in of late. Maybe there were too many characters and I couldn't keep them straight in my head. I hate that when that happens. Even as late as 50 pages to go in the novel, I had to flip back and figure out who the protagonist was because I kept confusing her name with that of a secondary character.

Now the second novel was a romance, also by a reputable author. It had far less characters to keep straight. There was a bit of a mystery that I saw coming a mile away, but I am one of those insatiable people who has to know if the hunch is right (I was). The hero was a little too good to be true, hardly any growth other than "hey, I think I just fell in love." But then again, I've always been a bit of a sucker for those knights in shining armor.

I did like both books. I just thought it was odd that one took me so much longer to read than the other.

I think I need another run to the library. I have a feeling I'll be wanting the escapism this week. Sunday I found out that my uncle was in the hospital. Normally I call my folks on the weekend, but I got sidetracked. The more I thought about my uncle, the more concerned I got, but I tried to shake it off. I mean, if it was serious, someone would have called, right?

I called my folks last night. My uncle is not good. Basically a lifetime of vices and weaknesses have caught up with him. I'd like to say we were close. He is my godfather, but he moved out to Delaware when I was little and I really haven't seen him very often. The last time I saw him was at my wedding four years ago. And yet I really feel smacked upside the head about this. Even over the phone, I could tell my parents were beginning to grieve, and I felt myself beginning to do so too.

DH and I talked about this some last night. Unfortunately, we are reaching a stage in our lives where the death of aunts and uncles is probable and in some cases, a waiting game. I'm just afraid I am not ready for this particular stage of life. Maybe I'm afraid that it will be a domino effect. Then there are our own parents to consider and I don't want to even consider it. It doesn't help matters that the last time I saw my folks they sat me down and told me some of the updated details of their will (on the lighter side of things, my sisters and I were going to sent to live with some divorced relatives - DH thought that was hilarious since we are all nearly all over age 30 and the relatives had about the ugliest divorce ever).

For everything there is a season, right?

Pfffbt

Well, ok. My new little toy is being ornery, but that's all right. I know I hold the power. Really. Otherwise that little puppy is going back in the box and back to the store.

But I don't think it'll come to that.

The toy is the new DVR I just bought. I taped my stepson's baby videos over the weekend, and I don't think he had ever seen them before. I can't imagine, but growing up, we always looked at our pictures, slides, and scrap books. Yes, my sisters and I know every blackmail picture, its precise location, and who has a copy of it.

The problem with the DVR is that I can't get all my cable channels to program. I'm sure its just a little glitch, but sheesh. I've checked all the plugs several times. I mean, I used to joke that my major in college was programming the VCR. Now I feel old. All my hard-earned technological knowledge is obsolete.

But on the plus side, the picture is crystal clear on channels 1 through 13.

Egads, but I may have to call the customer service number. *gasp*

This city girl would never make it in the wild.

Gorgeous weather yesterday. The temps were just below 80 degrees, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, children were laughing.

I mostly stayed inside. I did have the windows open though. Does that count?

Every year I complain that I never see the spring. I feel like I go straight from my winter coat to my air conditioning. I love 70 degree weather before the humidity blankets the area like a suffocating blanket. This year I remembered why that is.

Oh, it all started innocently enough. DSS announced the flowers on the side of the house were starting to sprout up. (The landlord must have planted things that come up every year because I certainly have no talent for it.) There is a little wooden fence along the front sidewalk and right next to the sticker bush springing up, I saw the most adorable tuft of green capped with little purple flowers.

How pretty! I thought. How come I always seem to miss this fun stuff? Winter is being washed away and revealing fresh springtime. The grass is getting green again. The dog is frolicking is Bob-only-knows-what in the back yard. I'm actually thinking about how much mulch we are going to need for the flower beds.

Then it hit me. Saturday we had rain. In it's wake, thousands of these little red buds from the trees covered our cars and driveway. My smile began to falter. It. Was. Those. Little. Darned. Buds. Again.

I hate those little red buds.

Sure enough, my allergies hit me like a freight train. My eyes watered. I sneezed. I sniffled. I hacked. I even prayed (it was Sunday, after all). To no avail. I'm even on year-round allergy medicine. I had an allergy induced migraine hit about 4:00 AM this morning. In a flash, I was reminded why I hide indoors until it was too hot to do anything. I hide from those darned little red buds and whatever else is in the air when they hit the ground.

Curse you, tree pollen!

Maybe it's a sign. The reason our Spring Break vacation was canceled was that those little red buds were coming out, determined to wreck havoc in my life again.

Of course, this is always the time of year things get interesting between DH and I. He's an outdoors person, and I hide from tree buds. Sometimes there is more than a little friction over my desire to stay indoors just as spring fever hits him like a steam roller.

I guess I'd better get that secondary allergy medicine refilled today. You know, the script that's been sitting in my purse since last week and just might have prevented half of all this. But then I'd have nothing to post about.

Snow: Here Today, Gone Tomorrow (Or, Thank God It Finally Got Above Freezing)

As promised, here are the photos of our snow storm from two weeks ago.



Here's Trent coming in from the snow. In the four years we've had him, this was the first time he's seen snow too deep for him to run around in.



This is the snow coming down the evening of the blizzard. Living in a subdivision, our roads were not the main priority to be plowed. As you can see, there is already more snow on the ground than we normally see all year.



Yes, that is a snow drift up to the window of my Saturn. And this was parked next to the house. There was a higher drift right where the sidewalk should have been. Lucky for me, some good Samaritan with a bigger snow blower cleared the walk for us and the neighbor. Our snow blower was not big enough to blow the snow over the snow drifts so we were looking at doing it by shovel. Thanks again, Neighbor.





Ah. Nothing like digging out a place for the dog in the back yard. Trent was traumatized. He couldn't find any grass or figure out why all the white stuff took up all his space. And those bar things sticking up out of the snow? That's an old lawnmower DH was getting rid of.

Naturally, the temps here (finally) went back up to the 40s and 50s, so most of this is all gone. You know, you almost kind of miss it. Especially when you're left with the nasty dirty stuff.

Hmm. This last picture doesn't want to post. I'll keep tinkering with it, but I think you'll get the idea anyway.

Ohio, Take Care of My Sister

Well, we moved my sister #1 to Ohio over the weekend. The weather was decent (especially for January!) and we had help.

Hopefully all the worrying was for nothing. Her apartment is CUTE and she has a view of the pond behind the complex. It's bigger than she thought so DH and I will bring some more of her stuff that she didn't think she had room for in a few weeks. As an extra bonus, both Mom and Dad came up to help and stayed an extra day or two to help her unpack.

She's found the grocery store and the Barnes and Noble, so far, so good!

Next on the agenda ... I wonder if she needs a pet? Maybe a fish or a hamster or something ...

Another Adventure Begins

Well, we're shipping my sister off to Ohio tomorrow. Last Thursday she got the call she'd been waiting for about where she would be placed after her manager training with Bob Evans was completed. Unfortunately, it wasn't in Indiana like she'd hoped, but the good news she is still closer to us than some parts of the state. She'll be three hours from me and still about six hours from Mom and Dad. All in all, no too bad. Especially since she passed that critical 48 hour freak-out period. That was fun.

Dad came up yesterday to help. Hopefully we can keep him in a supervisory capacity since he is still nursing a sore knee. DH enlisted the help of the BIL - yes, that BIL - so hopefully the guys can handle most the heavy stuff. All I'm going to say on that is that it sure makes it hard to hold a grudge when someone volunteers to do something nice like this, so maybe he's trying. That, and I really love his wife, DH's sister.

Sister #2 sent a couple of emails out to close family to let them know what's going on and one of our Dad's cousins said he wasn't doing anything and volunteered to help. That's pretty cool too. Add to the mix my mother, who is driving up Saturday, and maybe my DSS, if his mom isn't being a horse's patout.

So with this cast of thousands, hopefully there is room for everyone to actually carry stuff down a flight of stairs and into the moving van. Sister #1 (the one who's moving) said her new place is smaller than her current apartment, so getting stuff moved in is going to be an adventure in itself. At least the new place is downstairs.

Wish us luck!

Nice things do still happen

On my way home last night, I saw that my sister had called. I called her back to see what was up. She told me that she went to see her friend in LaPorte. Now since the friend is a force unto herself and my sister’s stories about her are always entertaining, I asked what happened this time.

Turns out the friend had a chance to be a part of something pretty amazing.

There is a family that my family grew up with from church. I was in Pre-Calc with their oldest son and in band with the middle son. My middle sister was in band with the middle son and my youngest sister had classes with their youngest son.

Awhile back, we heard the news that the youngest son was diagnosed with cancer. I won’t pretend I know even the basic information about what type of cancer it is or what stages mean what. All I know is that it was bad and we were basically told he only had a few months left.

You hear news like that and sometimes it truly rocks your world. We are talking about a young man, recently married and a new father with literally his entire life ahead of him. He is my youngest sister’s age (29). His family grew up with mine. And I kept thinking, “How do you deal with something like this?”

The months have gone by (maybe even a year now) and he’s still with us, some might say miraculously. My sister told me that he set three goals for himself. He wanted to marry, become a father, and get his college degree.

In the past few weeks, his condition took a turn for the worse. I cannot imagine what it must be like to call your family and say that it might be your last Christmas.

This December, he reached his third goal. He achieved his Engineering Degree from Purdue University at the North Central Campus. He pressed on through the chemo, and the radiation treatments and bad days. And he made it happen. There was one problem though. There were too few graduates with that particular degree and the graduation ceremony for them would not be held until Spring Commencement. And with typical grace, he said, if that was what he had to do, that’s what he would do.

Knowing there was a chance he might not be there to walk across that stage come May.

While he and his family took a mini-vacation and had some well-deserved family time, a plan was set into motion. Nothing could be done about the December graduation ceremony at that point, but friends and co-workers contacted the Chancellor at PNC and explained the situation. And the man simply said, “Tell me the date and I will clear my calendar. I’ll be there.”

And so they arranged for a personal graduation ceremony for him at the courthouse where he worked. His wife brought his cap and gown. They had programs printed up, just like at the official ceremony. The mayor gave a speech. The Chancellor gave a speech. The graduation cake had the Purdue insignia on it.

My sister’s friend is a photographer. She found out about the impromptu ceremony from the young man’s mom, dropped everything and photographed the event. Because it was the holidays, his parents and his brothers were all in town and able to attend.

A lot of people did any number of kindnesses to make that graduation happen. It wasn’t national news, but it was his day, and that was all that mattered.

I didn’t name names because I haven’t spoken with the family or the friend about sharing this story. And knowing them, especially in this difficult time, they may want a little privacy. I cannot imagine what day to day life is like for them, knowing everything could change in a moment’s notice. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have everyone know you are going to die. Perhaps it is the simple idea of celebrating life as we live it and not dwelling on missing someone before they are gone.

What I do know is that this remarkable young man has managed to pack his life full of blessings and good people. He probably doesn’t even know me, and yet his story has touched me in ways I cannot describe.

God Bless, to you and yours, and everyone who has passed a kindness on.

On Golden Pond

Ok, ok, I'm not that old, but sheesh, I sure feel it today.

Week two of having job #2 (no, not that #2) is finally catching up with me. My legs and feet hurt, I'm way out of shape, and I'm pooped. I just about ripped DH's head off for robbing me of that last five minutes of sleep this morning. Oh, so do not go there. Not that. He simply thought that if he had to get up, I needed to share in his misery. At which point he soon found that the solitude of getting the bathroom first would be a good thing. I swear, I think I managed a full head rotation this morning.

I found out, much to my chagrin, that I am the oldest person working at the store. By seven years. 7. Freakin'. Years.

Dear Bob. I'm only 36 now. And a rookie.

Most of my other jobs I've been the youngest, or at least second to the youngest. *Sigh* I guess I certainly won't impress anyone with my college stories, even as goodie-two-shoes as they are.

Oh, and by the way, I need another week before Christmas. Could someone please pencil that in for me? It would be much appreciated.

I did find a small ray of sunshine yesterday. Our lawyer contacted the ex's lawyer on Monday to give him the info requested. The ex should get the "good news" sometime this week. Waa Haa Haa. Ain't payback a pip?

Of the Godfather and Red Dresses at Funerals

(Red dress at funeral: Moonstruck)

Well, I’ve just been hit with a hum-dinger. A person in my professional life (the money- making one) just quit. I work in the financial industry, so it seems whenever this happens, it’s as if that person has died. Or, more accurately, that person is dead to my department. Really, this is the second time I’ve observed this and it seems more and more like the Godfather movie.

I have really mixed feelings about this. First, the guy who left was my “problem child,” a real Last-Minute Charlie. Everything had to be done either right away or yesterday. Drove me nucking futz. On the other hand, he was six months younger than me, had his decent moments, and actually had a sense of humor. He was seriously delinquent on the donut runs though. I don’t know. I feel torn between doing a Snoopy happy dance and treating like the death in the family I know it is. Of course the red dress at the funeral is still up for grabs. You just never know how things will shake down in my head.

Of all the gin joints in all the world ...

I wish. (Paraphrased from Casablanca)

I ended up at a tractor pull the other night.

You know, if anyone had told me that someday I would find myself up until 11:30 PM at a tractor pull, I would have said they were crazy.

Guess I’m the crazy one.

A friend of my DH belongs to the Illinois Tractor Pullers Association (ITPA) and last night we went to Georgetown IL to the county fair (much better than the Champaign IL fair I went to a few weeks ago – my first tractor pull) and watched him compete. He did well, coming in second and going a distance of just over 306 feet.

Now for those of you that don’t know (like me as of three weeks ago), a tractor pull is where a tractor pulls a trailer with a weighted slide on it. The slide begins at the back of the trailer and moves forward as the trailer is pulled. Once it reaches the end of the trailer, the front wheels actually fold up and the tractor is pulling a trailer that is digging itself into the ground. Whoever drives the longest distance wins. It’s all about inertia, velocity, friction and a bunch of other physics terms I never did quite get the hang of.

The tractors are divided up into different classes. The more beginner classes are like Grandpa’s old tractor and gets the kids started. The classes move up by weight, ending up with our friend’s category, the 5800 Modified class, where the tractors look like fire-breathing dragons – indy cars on steroids. The two back tires are enormous tractor tires, taller than me. The front tires look like itty-bitty wagon wheels in comparison, although they would probably fit my husband’s truck easily. And are these tractors LOUD.

I had to laugh though. I was watching one of the earlier classes, one where the tractors look like they were just driven off the farm until you see them pull. Then you wonder how much acreage can be plowed driving 80 miles an hour (I’m exaggerating, but they will MOVE). Obviously these guys don’t use the same tractor to both farm and compete. These are super-suped up tractors. Watching these guys tearing down the strip, throwing gears like there is no tomorrow puts a hilarious image in my head. Farmer Bob revs up his ride and decides to raise a little dust. He opens it up and goes tearing down the pasture, throwing levers to switch gears as he speeds along, with cows, pigs and sheep being tossed up in his wake.

And what did I take home with me from the experience? Remember that scene in Lethal Weapon 2 where Riggs brings down the stilt house with his GMC truck? That just might be a handy talent for a heroine to have. To drive some thing big and bad that creates a lot of destruction. Kinda like Evanovich’s Barney in Motor Mouth, or Stephanie in Ranger’s big 4x4.

My DH said the funniest thing after we tucked in the DSS (Dear Step-Son). He hugged me tight and told me I smelled good. As in fuel and oil and fresh dirt.

Golly, he says the sweetest things.