From John Updike's "Spirit of '76"

Be with me, words, a little longer; you
have given me my quitclaim in the sun,
sealed shut my adolescent wounds, made light
of growing troubles, turned to my advantage
what in most lives would be pure deficit,
and formed, of those I loved, more solid ghosts.

Don't know why but those words hit me and stuck. Love them!

Go Speed Racer


When I got home today there in my garage with the sweetest card was this:

And the card that was on top of the seat was the sweetest ever. Extra bonus....

A Bell!!!!!

A Not So Drinkin Drinkin Song

On a walk this evening to blow off some steam (and try to forget about how badly I wanted to immerse myself in a cocktail to forget about my day) this song came on my iPod. Yes I know not all of the words apply but if you knew how I felt right now you would know how much this song meant to me while I walked. Thanks God for sending it to me. I needed it now more than ever.

I'm learning how to live without you in my life.
I'm learning how to live without you in my life.
I'll take the best of what you had to give.
I'll make the most of what you left me with.
I'm learning how to live.
They say the best is still yet to come but the taste of you is still on my tongue.
I can't forget and I won't even try to erase your image and the way you made me cry.
I'm learning how to live.
All I have left is this dime store ring but I wouldn't trade it for anything.
The days ahead will never be the same.
For you I might have even changed my name.
I'm learning how to live.
I'm learning how to live without you in my life.
I'll take the best of what you had to give.
I'll make the most of what you left me with.
I'm learning how to live.

Lucinda Williams

Of Detox and Disappointment

Last Friday was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Or shall I say the hangover that broke my spirit. Carrie did some research and found a place in Houston that helps alcoholics like us but out patient. They also do so without a higher power (I have always had a problem with AA claiming your higher power can be door knob or whatever you choose. When was the last time you went to the First Church of Knob on a Sunday?). What led us to this conclusion? Or better yet what led me because if there is one thing I know it is I am only accountable for myself and no one else. As those well thought out magazine articles pushing the latest drugs say if you have one or more of the following symptoms you have a problem:

1. You sleep (translate pass out) on your couch more nights than you do in your bed.
Sure your friends see you drink 6-8 drinks during happy hour but do they see you down the other 6-8 at home?
2.You alternate liquor stores because you are too embarrassed that you were just there for a JUG of vodka two days prior (you are welcome children of my local liquor stores for those quality educations I am paying for).
3. Have you become a master at pretending you remember a conversation you had the night before. Smiling, shaking your head and hoping to God the other person will give you the slightest clue as to what you said.
4. Fighting in public with strangers. After all this is your party and you will yell if you want to.
Waking up naked with your clothes in a pile next to the bed. Or better yet waking up in the closet naked with a friend trying to console you because you forgot how you got there in the first place.
5. Mystery bruises.
6. The first thing you grab for in the morning is your Clear Eyes not a glass of water.
7. A co-worker telling you that you still have sleepy face but you have been awake for hours. Not wanting to admit that you are swollen from consumption.
7. Breakfast: Diet Coke and a cigarette. Break: cigarette. Lunch: Greasy hamburger, wings, whatever will soak up remaining alcohol. Evening: Repeat steps 1-8. Morning: repeat steps 8-10

Such was my life when I walked into this program on Friday. My own personal Dr. Drew (I won’t name names until permission is granted) went through the program. No higher power, no group whine sessions (I am not knocking AA but for some this makes us more uncomfortable). Just a simple medical based detox that if we follow for one year, God willing, we will be able to beat the beast.

Like a dead man walking we decided to take the weekend to fulfill those last three wishes. The genie in the vodka bottle granted us a margarita, a few (term used loosely) vodkas, and our favorite mimosa on Sunday.

The program started Monday. Take your blood pressure in the morning. Don’t expect too much as there is still alcohol in your system driving your vitals. When the blood pressure and heart rate begin to sky rocket take a small dose of Valium to replace the effects of alcohol. So far so good. I can tell you that Monday at work was one of the few days in a long time I have been less uptight than a long tailed cat in a room full of rockers. That night was great. Except I couldn’t sleep despite the prescription of a sleep aid. This is nothing new since I really couldn’t remember the last time I slept completely through the night.

Tuesday was good in the morning but as is typical around 3:30-4:00 I start thinking where are we going to dinner. I sure would like a drink after work. Another Valium and the craving was for the most part sated. However that night my partner in this endeavor drank and the more I watched her drink the harder it was for me to convince myself that just one wouldn’t hurt. It doesn’t mean I’ll go back to the way it was before. It only means we slipped. I called my counselor who explained that he knew it was hard but to stick to the program. Let the Valium replace the alcohol until the detox stage is over. I did so and made it through. Proud!

Wednesday. We had dinner plans with friends who have been out of town for quite awhile. We had not wanted to tell them over the phone so arranged to meet for dinner. We arrived on the front deck and took a seat. Realizing they were late we called at which point they informed us they were on the back deck and to grab our drinks and come on back. If this were Deal or No Deal I would have gone for whatever case was marked that we would come out back with our typical vodka sodas. We didn’t. Carrying nothing but an ice tea and a water we calmly sat down to two very bewildered stares. It was time to let the cat out of the bag. What amazes me most about this process is just how supportive every single one of our friends has been and continue to be.

You know you have made the right decision when not one person says “I didn’t think you had that big of a problem.”

So here we are on day four. Four days I almost went without a drink but tonight I had two cocktails. Sure it is approximately 10 less than normal but still I have disappointed myself. Tomorrow is a new day and I will climb back on that horse. I will get back in the saddle, place my feet firmly in the stirrups and jump any hurdle that comes my way. My horse? Not only is it my sobriety but it is the backs of all the friends I am relying on to get me through this difficult time. Lucky for me I will be riding champions (all of them).

Ranting

Since I listed my top ten favorites that begin with “R” yesterday. I have decided to reverse the process and list my ten least favorite things that begin with “R”. So again here goes….

Race Card- I don’t like this expression. Nor do I like how often it is attached to something for which it doesn’t apply.

Red Lipstick- Notice I said red. Not a nice cabernet color. Red. Bright red. Very few women can pull this off yet so many think they can.

Running- This probably has more to do with my pack a day habit rather than the act itself. Or it could be that I run like a dork. Think Forrest Gump with braces.

Rap- Sorry if you are a fan of this genre but I really don’t see anything redeeming about it and as for those people who pull up next to you at a stop light and vibrate your car with their music- F_ _ _ Off!

Riding in the Back Seat- I can’t think of too many people who like this one. I tend to get sick.
Republicans- I love a few but hate their politics.

Running Late- I have a few friends (who will go unnamed) that could not get to an event or appointment on time if their lives depended on it. To me it shows a lack of respect for other people.

Raisins- Yep, I know. Nature’s Candy and all but they give me the creeps.

Roaches- Again, I can’t think of anyone who likes these. They are so gross and to think they will outlive us in a nuclear war.

Rate of Return- I don’t always hate this one but with current market conditions and my job ROR’s have been a thorn in my side of late.

Rolling With It

Alison assigned me the letter “R” at dinner last night. The challenge is to name my ten favorite things that start with the letter “R”. So here goes…

Reading – Anyone who knows me knows this is a given. I read constantly. I love books. They are an escape you can find no where else. Many friendships have bonded over books including my friendship with Alison so it’s fitting this is number one.

Riding- If they weren’t so expensive I would have ten horses (also if I didn’t live in the city and had a place to keep them). There really is no better smell than the smell of horse sweat. When I had my last horse I would love to bring her blanket home, rest it on a chair in the bedroom and sleep so soundly with that sweet musty smell.

Ruining Surprises- This is a fault of mine but one that I love to do. I can never give a gift without spoiling the surprise. It’s always “Want a hint?”, “Want to open it early?”, “Want to shake the box?”, Want to guess?”. So sad but it is true. I must work on this one.

Rubbing Bellies- I am an equal opportunity belly rubber. Whether my victim is canine, feline, bovine or equine bellies make me crazy. Unfortunately my own belly has become big enough to get a good rubbing now and then.

Rain in the Summer Time- The smell of ozone as the rain is moving in. The smell of freshly moistened concrete. The sound of raindrops hitting the window. Or at the ranch when you can sit under a tin roofed porch listening, the smell of fresh hay and grass mixing with the rain.

Rodrique- I love George Rodrique. I love his Blue Dog series but most of all I love his Cajun series. For my birthday one year Carrie bought me a signed print he did of his son holding up a fish wearing a Kiss Me I’m Cajun t-shirt. It hangs in our dining room. A dream vacation is to go on his river boat tour.

Rice- I could get very Bubba Gump on this one. Rice with butter. Rice with Shrimp Etoufee. Rice with meatballs and Cream of Mushroom soup. Rice with round steak. Rice with anything really. But no brown rice. It tastes weird.

Rising the Corporate Ladder- I am currently only a few rungs up but can see the top from where I stand. This is a major goal in 2009. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Rolling in Dough- See number 8.

Reeling with Laughter- There is no better feeling than the kind of laugh that makes tears roll down your face. One of the things that cements Carrie and I to one another is the ability to laugh with each other and often.

Wicked Wintry Weather Leaving Me Wary and Warm

I should know better living in Houston for 30 years. When the weather man says it will be 34 degrees in the morning he doesn’t mean it will be 34 degrees in the afternoon. This morning however I woke up and as if preparing for battle put on thick black tights, fully lined wool pants, an undershirt and a big fluffy 100% wool turtle neck sweater.

First cigarette this morning ~ thinking how smart I am to have dressed for the weather.

Second cigarette at lunch ~ thinking it is a bit warm in the sun.

Cigarette just now ~ WTF was I thinking?

This leaves me with a decision to make:

1. Tough it out and sweat out every liquid in my body.
2. Scare the hell out of my co-workers by finishing the day in nothing but an undershirt and tights.

Time Warp or Twilight Zone?

It all started with an acquaintance of a friend who said; “Sure, come on down to the beach for New Years Eve. We have two rooms. One has a queen bed the other two full beds. It’ll be fun. I might not be here because I may be at my husband’s house.”

And so began our plans for New Years Eve. Six of us were going. I agreed to get the food. Football food. Hangover food. Chips, salsa, spicy crackers, pre-cooked shrimp and flank steak. All the fixings for a lazy New Years Eve at the beach. Friends brought breakfast casseroles, cards, booze, champagne, sketch pads and magazines. We were ready.

On NYE we piled into two cars and made the hour and a half trip to the beach. Stopping off once to purchase $200 worth of firecrackers. Talk about kids in a candy store. We went hog wild. Artillery shells in different colors? Check. Chickens that shoot sparks out of their ass? Check. Sparklers in three colors? Check. Big and small bottle rockets? Check. You get the idea.

Arriving at the beach we were so excited. We began unpacking as our hostess showed us around. Bedrooms? Only one with an unmade queen size bed. The other beds? Futons in the living room. Okay we all thought, the sleeping arrangements aren’t what we thought but we can roll with this. As we were getting to know each other our hostess poured herself a big old glass of vodka on ice then added just a splash of soda. Apparently she was not going to let any mixer get in her way. As the night progressed we saw her pour about fifteen more of these each one increasingly light on the soda. The next morning our friends found six of these drinks forgotten in various places.

With the sleeping arrangements settled it was time to turn off Casablanca on the t.v. and put on some football. Football? Our hostess informs us that she has Direct TV but cuts it off in the winter to save money. Huh? What? Carrie at this point had just enough liquid encouragement in her to inform the room “THIS IS BULLSHIT! What do mean they don’t have TV?”. We know at this point we are at DEFCON 1 so we suggest Carrie come to the beach with us to set off fireworks.

A few collisions between Carrie’s ass and a sand dune later and we had her properly planted in the sand so we could proceed into pyrotechnic nirvana. Amazingly it all went well. This despite one of our party not being familiar with Carrie’s stages of “tipsy” handing her a lit bottle rocket which she proceeded to shoot a foot or two just above a box of the unlit firecrackers.

With the smell of sulfur lingering on our clothes we went back to the house. Carrie by this time has forgotten there is not t.v. and is continually asking us to put the game on. Instead (and this is where I started pouring my own drinks a might stronger) our hostess puts in The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It is her favorite and she knows every word. Just after The Time Warp (which we all danced in the living room- how could you not at this point?) she plops into a chair then proceeds to plop right out of it onto the floor.

At this point Carrie is “napping” on a futon in the living room. The neighbors have come over to visit and another friend is making one of them recite the Whataburger commercial convinced he is the voice of Whataburger. Still another friend who flew in from Paris has retired to the bedroom. And that my friends is how I ended up in bed, legs wrapped around and snoring contentedly with a French man as the clocks ticked towards 2009.

In all this was one of the funnest, funniest New Years Eves I have had in a long time. Will we be going back? Probably not. Or at least until The Rocky Horror Picture Show DVD spontaneously combusts and Direct TV is installed year round.

Disclaimer: Friend of hostess had no idea what she was getting us into. Said friend is off the hook for any and everything that happened. No worries!

My Own Soapbox

For Christmas my co-worker and friend gave me the book “Pure Soapbox” by Kimerlie Dykeman. The tag line reads “…. a cleansing jolt of perspective, motivation, and humor”. There are 65 small inspirational entries to the book and I intend to read one daily as a motivator rather than plow through all 65 in one day as I would with any other book.

Today’s entry was on Enthusiasm with this great quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson:

“Enthusiasm is one of the most powerful engines of success. When you do a thing, do it with your might. Put your whole soul into it. Stamp it with your own personality. Be active, be energetic, be enthusiastic and faithful, and you will accomplish your object. Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm.”

This was perfect for today. I awoke this morning with so much enthusiasm for a new year. Yes, I know it is the sixth but what can I say I’m a procrastinator. So far today I have tackled waking up early, playing with my cat, loving on my dog, fixing my hair rather than the uniform ponytail, putting on my favorite perfume over a cashmere sweater with one of my favorite scarves. It is indeed a brand new year and I am tackling the breaking of old habits with all of the enthusiasm they deserve. Will I succeed in holding onto this new found enthusiasm? Who knows. Only time can tell but today I will pour my heart into all I do. I know the results will be rewarding. I hope tomorrow’s entry is on perseverance or I am afraid I’ll lose all this enthusiasm then where will I be?

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

The presents are all wrapped. I have returned the mounds of paper, ribbon, bows and tape to the closet upstairs. We can again see our dining room table which has served as the “wrapping room” for the past month. Tomorrow thirteen people (both friends and family alike) will descend on our house to celebrate the season. I can’t wait!

A few of the things I’m looking forward to:

x My grandmother’s laughter.

x My father’s wit and cynicism.

x Seeing my sister’s face when she opens the footlocker we bought her for her first summer camp and all the wrapped gifts inside the footlocker.

x My mother’s face when she reads the poem I wrote her inside her card. Oh, and of course everyone else’s face when she performs her newest dance routine with her dog.

x Carrie’s face when she sees that I actually bought a gift that she couldn’t guess.

x Christmas music playing all day long.

x The smell of turkey and gravy.

x Falling into bed exhausted and ten pounds heavier.

I hope that whoever you are and whatever you do tomorrow that your day be filled with joy and happiness.

Her Cup Runneth Over

My grandmother loves wine. There is not a family get together that I can remember where she did not get tipsy. For years her favorite was Ernest & Julio Gallo Chablis. The empty green jugs are all over her house, verigated ivy growing from the top. Then her taste buds changed and suddenly the Chablis wasn’t sweet enough?!

Four years ago at our Mother’s Day brunch the waiter asked what she would like to drink. She asked for a sweet wine. The waiter brought her what he felt was sufficiently sweet. She took a sip. Smacked her bright pink lips together a few times. Took another sip and declared it not sweet enough. He brought her another wine. No, still not sweet. It was some kind of sommelier version of Goldilocks. Only Goldilocks was more like Silverlocks and instead of beds we were fast running out of options on wine. At last he brought in a bottle of dessert wine. It was thick and sugary. The color of Caro Syrup. One taste however and she was hooked.

Last night we all met for dinner. Aunts, mother, friends, and grandmother. This was a Mexican restaurant without an array of dessert wine so we ordered her the White Zin (why is it not called Pink Zin?). Her first sip she said she thought they might have watered down the wine. My dear, gracious friend tasted it for her and declared it “good”. Bless her heart. I owe her a big one for that. Then grandmother started complaining because they had not poured her a full glass. The waiter had in fact poured the customary amount into her glass it was just that she couldn’t get over all that empty space between the wine and the rim of the glass. Not wanting to listen to her complain all night, Carrie very discreetly met the waiter at the bar as he was ordering her second glass. In no uncertain terms she let him know that no matter the cost he was to fill that glass to the brim. This is the second waiter we have had to coach in this manner. When her second glass arrived she squealed with delight. As in every aspect of her life, my grandmother’s glass is never half full.

Candy Analysis

How do you eat your candy? If it is a lemon drop do you suck on it until it is the tiniest of disks and finally dissolves? Do you bite into it immediately and crunch the sugary sweet pieces?

Gum is particularly hard for me. I chew a piece for a few minutes then get the uncontrollable urge to swallow it and get another. Carrie will chew a piece of gum after lunch and walk through our door at 5:00 with the same piece of gum. How she does it I will never understand. What makes my little issue worse is that every time I swallow a piece of gum I get anxious remembering how they told us in grade school that it takes something along the lines of 100 years to digest. I imagine one corner of my stomach filled with half chewed gum waiting to disintegrate.

A friend and I were talking about candy canes this morning. Tis the season. I asked if she remembered sucking the end of the candy cane until it came to the sharpest of points. A point to be tested on ones arm or the arms and eyeballs of others. We talked about how your lips turned that sugary sticky pink. The wrapper that you so carefully left on the bottom half of the candy cane got all squishy and sticky. While you were finely tuning your point you would fiddle with the hook. This seems to be a universal practice among children as a few minutes later she and her co-worker had the same conversation.

Because of this conversation I think I will buy some candy canes to adorn the Christmas dinner table. I will be watching my eleven year old sister closely to see if she too carries on this childhood tradition. If she doesn’t I may have to eat one myself for old times sake.

Polly Want a Prozac

After my parents separated, my father began seeing a woman named Polly. While I was in New Jersey with my mother they moved into a two bedroom two story townhome. Polly wanted our first impression to be a good one so she decorated a room for me with rainbows and wind socks. Hmm….. Prior to my arrival for my first visit, Polly became very insecure. She was the poster child for why alcohol and insecurity don’t mix. Add in a few pills and you have yourself a serious mind fuck. So one night Polly’s drunk, pissed, insecure and ultimately out of her mind. She decides to pick a fight with my father. He won’t take the bait so she switches gears to the old “you don’t love me so I’ll kill myself” routine and puts her hand through a glass door. That got his attention. She was bleeding all over. My father immediately rushes her to the hospital where they wait for hours to have her hand stitched up.

In the meantime, the neighbors have heard screaming and items being thrown against walls all night. They decide to take a peak and see blood and broken glass all over. Concerned citizens that they are the call the police who also come to inspect the scene. The police are still on the scene when my father returns with a passed out on pain meds Polly who he is carrying from the car when the cops pounce on him. No one can wake her to find out if my father did this. Eventually they believe him and leave.

Skip to my first visit. Dad thought it would be a nice bonding experience for the three of us to drive to San Marcos and stay at Aquarina Springs. On the way he stopped and picked up a six pack of Michelob Light. Polly, having not learned her lesson, proceeded to drink four of the six. By the time we hit San Marcos she was good and ready for a fight. We checked into the hotel and went up to the room. My father told me to go in the bathroom, lock the door and not come out until he told me to. I spent the next hour and a half making all of the little coffee packets. Cleaning the sink with the tiny bar of soap. Counting the tiles on the floor. Laying on the floor ear to cold tile, one eye squinting under the door to see the fight.

At last he had enough and released me from my captivity in the bathroom. We were going to see the tic-tac-toe chickens and swimming pigs and no one was going to spoil the fun. Or so we thought. A walk down the corridor, an elevator ride to the first floor and out the door of the hotel we went. Senior citizens were playing checkers and chess at the tables in front of the hotel. We walked by them smiling. Enjoying the fact that we were at last getting to spend time together after a long separation. That is when we heard it;

“Beee-ullll”

“Jack-a-lynnnn”

“Beee-ullll”

“Jack-a-lynnnn”

Looking up what did we see? Polly on the roof screaming down at me. Other guests began to notice and now the crowd was all abuzz with “there’s a lady on the roof and she says she’s going to jump”. My father sprinted back to the hotel and to the roof. He and a bell hop were able to wrestle her away from the edge and get her safely back in the room. She was told to call her brother to pick her up, pack her things, get out of our room and wait in the lobby for her ride.

Crisis averted my father and I spent a few hours playing. There is an old timey sepia tone photo in my library taken that day. Dad is dressed as an outlaw and me a western bar maiden. Odd I know but I have a feeling I chose the costumes and he simply went along. Upon returning to the hotel we spied Polly sulking in a chair in the lobby. Something was different. Oh yeah, she had beat her face to black and blue with the phone in their room and had been telling anyone who walked by that my father was the culprit. Her brother did pick her up that day. I thought for sure she I would never see her again but alas the next time we met I was crawling through a window of her parent’s beach house because she wouldn’t wake up to answer the door. That however is another story for another day.

Heather I

When I was young we had a Great Dane named Heather. This dog had the patience of a saint. There are photos of me as an infant crawling on her, pulling her ears, and generally sprawled all over her. She never growled. Never nipped at me. She took each transgression in stride, staring up at my mother as if to say; “Really, did you have to bring her home?”. Heather had 18 puppies in one litter. My father built an enclosed pin with a trough to feed them after they were weaned. At this time I also had three ducks. The ducks and puppies and I would play in back yard for hours. Always under the watchful eye of Heather.

All of this changed when we moved from a house to an apartment. The ducks couldn’t make the move. The puppies were all sold. The apartment was a two bedroom with a patio covered in oyster shells. Heather was miserable but I couldn’t see it. However my parents could and one day that sat me down to tell me Heather was going to live on a farm. This news went over like a lead balloon. I didn’t want her to live somewhere else. She was my dog. A farm? Sounded fishy.

They let the news soak in for a week before telling me it was time. I insisted on going with them to get a look at this “farm”. I don’t know why I was convinced they were lying to me and were sending her to Heaven or the pound. We loaded up in my parent’s Torino with Heather taking up most of the backseat which was fine because in those days I liked to ride standing on the hump in middle, hanging my head over the seat to stare out the windshield. The windshield I would be flying through had they made a sudden stop. I don’t remember how I acted in the car but knowing myself like I do I’ll bet I laid on the guilt four feet thick.

We did in fact go to a farm that day. The owners had a son who was mentally challenged. He immediately fell in love with Heather. I immediately felt guilty for wanting to snatch my dog away from him and take her home. We stayed for a couple of hours while Heather got comfortable. Then we left. I cannot imagine the confusion this caused for my dog. I still cannot imagine what my parents were thinking giving away a living creature after having her for five years. I wish I could contact the owners of the farm today and see how she did as she lived out the remainder of her days.

A Little Bit of Laughter in an Otherwise Boring Day

I left work early yesterday to take the cat to the vet. In my absence, my co-worker decided to have a little fun. She knows how scary I find the Duggar family. Twenty-one children? Come on! This is much different from my facination in the FLDS. While I find it interesting (if not a bit disturbing) that a cult can in effect live and thrive practicing polygamy in this country, the Duggar’s make my uterus cringe every time I see them.

So imagine my surprise when I walked into the office this morning and there after my last name on the plate outside my door was a Post-It Note with Duggar written on it and a photo of the whole clan beneath. I giggled and left it there and proceeded to my desk. On my chair? Another Duggar photo. Peeking out of the plant on my file cabinet, taped to my phone mouthpiece, under my mouse, under my keyboard, in my top drawer, in the chocolate covered espresso bean box I keep in another drawer, and in the Christmas card box. I have so far found 10 miniature Duggar clan photos in my office and have been promised by same co-worker there are many more to be found. That equals 10 laughs in an otherwise boring day. I am on a Duggar hunt until I find the rest. Then I think I will plaster her monitor with them after she leaves.

And they called it Puppy Love…

I have never been a fan of Starbucks. For one I love weak, watery coffee and theirs is just too strong. For another it seems ridiculous to me for anyone to order a venti, extra hot (extra hot?) two shot soy milk one raw sugar no whip bold…. You get the idea. I’m also cheap and a four dollar cup of coffee seems pretty steep to me. Ah, but I have gone to the dark side. I have been at Starbucks more in the last three weeks than in the last three years. My girlfriend is addicted to venti mocha lattes. It is her crack and she demands a fix every morning. Mind you I do not bring her one every morning, but the days I do her face lights up when I walk through the door carrying the steaming red cup.

At first this exercise was solely for her benefit. A cup of coffee and a slice of banana nut loaf. Then one morning I noticed the section of the menu that contains non-coffee drinks. Hmmm. Yes, I’ll try a grande strawberry and cream. Big mistake! I am now addicted as well but to an ass widening, calorie loaded, sugar infested milk shake. I can down a grande in five minutes flat on my way to work. This is amazing because I hate milk. It gives me the creeps. This however is heaven in a plastic cup.
This morning I swung by my local Starbucks on the way to take the dog to Carrie’s work. He goes to work on Fridays because otherwise he would eat our maid and the house would quickly become a pig sty. So there he was with his head hanging out of the back window watching me as I stood in line like a junky at a Methadone clinic. I remembered that a good friend of ours who is also addicted to high dollar coffee gets her dog a puppy latte. This is no more than whipped cream in a cup but the name is too cute not to use. So I ordered Isaac a puppy latte. When I got back to the car I set down our drinks, took the lid off his puppy latte and let Isaac go to town. If you have a dog and you’ve never tried this you must! I swear his eyes rolled back in his head and I could hear him humming. Whipped cream was all over his tiny muzzle hairs. He really got into it and the cream started flying. On his head, my car, everywhere. Yep, now our entire family is addicted.

Little Shop Girl

The only department she probably did not hit was furs. I hear she likes to shoot her own.

http://gawker.com/5067774/palins-real-american-shopping-spree

The Sweet Smell of Books

From time to time Carrie goes on Amazon.com and buys my entire wish list. It is always a great day when that box arrives full of shining book jackets, pressed pages waiting to be turned, stories waiting to unfold. Today is that day. I received the following:

Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer – I rented the movie a couple of weeks ago but didn’t get around to watching it but can’t wait to see it after a read the book.

Phantom Prey by John Sanford - I happened upon this series when I picked up a dusty old paperback in a used book store and was instantly hooked. I love Lucas Davenport the main character and each novel reads like an episode of Criminal Minds. After reading the first book I immediately gobbled up the rest in the series and now stalk his name for new editions.

The Brass Verdict by Michael Connelly - Another author I stalk! Love Harry Bosch and wish they would make a movie out of every novel in the series.

Havana Nocturne: How the Mob Owned Cuba and Then Lost It to the Revolution by T.J. English - I look forward to reading this one to get an image of Cuba pre-revolution. Ladies and Gentlemen dressed to the nines in casinos. Maybe some old fashioned Puzo style mob violence. A trip in time to be sure.

The Longest Trip Home: A Memoir by John Grogan- I had so much fun reading Marley and Me that I can't wait to see what Grogan comes up with in this memoir about growing up Catholic. Coming from an uber-Catholic family on my mother's side I am sure I will be able to relate.

The hardest thing is always what to read first. Do I read this one or save it for later since this author only publishes once every two years or so? Do I read this one first because I need to know what happened after the last novel? Truth or Fiction? Long or Short? The decision is agonizing. The great thing is if this was my only decision every day I would be in Heaven.

Directionally Challenged

Ask Carrie about any trip we have been on and she can tell you a tale of woe about getting lost due to my navigation skills. There was Tulsa, when trying to return to our hotel from the zoo, I turned the map upside down for a better perspective and we ended up on a turnpike heading to another state entirely.

Most recently we were driving from Taos, New Mexico to Blackwell, TX via Roswell. A pretty straight shot on the map but she turned when she should have gone straight (or as she tells it I did not tell her to stay straight and she was only following my directions). Again, we found ourselves on a highway in the wrong direction. Flustered by her anger I looked for an alternative route on the map and we headed South so we could head East then South again. The first leg South was okay. Two lane, paved. Then as we turned east the black top ended and we spent the better half of an hour on a bumpy dirt road with civilization no where in sight. She yelled. I cried. But in the end we pulled into Blackwell that evening safe and sound.

In recent days, weeks, months, years (you see I don’t know where to begin this journey) I have been traveling with a friend to the very depths of hell. Oh sure I have jumped off the path every now and again only to return with renewed hope that is quickly struck down. She has a disease my friend does. Her journey has taken her to the Hill Country, West, and East. Mentally and physically however she has gone South. In recent days she has tried to understand her needs, her actions and the effect they have on the world. I pray that she has turned. That her journey now may be on an emotionally bumpy, dirt road but soon she will be fly along smooth with the wind in her hair.

I’ve hit several bumps on my own journey. At times my inner voice tells me to look in the rear view mirror and regret, rue, hate myself for not avoiding the pot holes. It has taken years to realize this behavior does me no good. Only by looking forward can I move forward. I hope my friend comes to that realization and soon she begins to look at each new day as a new start. Several new starts and you have yourself a month, then a year, then years and before you know it you’ve traveled many miles that you would have never seen otherwise.

On a lighter note, I am going to ask someone for a Garmin Navigation system for Christmas. That way the next time we get lost Carrie can yell at the machine and I can sit comfortably in the passenger seat munching on beef jerky.

Rikki Tiki Drunki

If you were me you could say the following about this past weekend:

Friday night while house sitting at a friend's your tipsy (ok drunk) ass walked three doors down to the neighbors because you heard screaming coming from the backyard. You were thinking serial killer which is why you knocked on the front door politely only to be informed it was the homeowner's teenage girl and her friend swimming out back. You could have apologized and walked away acting every bit the idiot you are but instead you notice they are playing Wii and ask for a few tips on how to hit a home run.

On Saturday you would have had a few too many before attending a birthday party. At the party you would have fallen on a tiki torch catching your hair on fire. That's what you get for buying not one but two sizes smaller than you were a month ago while shopping for jeans and celebrating all day long (granted the store they were purchased in clearly has sizing issues but just to looking at the tag makes it worth it).

Sunday you would have spent the majority of the day (six or so hours) watching reruns of America's Next Top Model your new obsession. That is until your friends who clearly weren't at the party and don't know you accosted their neighbor invite you for a margarita which six hours prior would have been out of the question but now.....