Monday, November 27, 2006


Go here for my new blog. I no longer will be posting here.

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Do You Think His Tractor is Sexy?

Does it really turn you on, while he's chug-chug-chuggin' along?
Rick finally got his machine, a 1950 Ford 8N. A classic tractor. It needs some paint, but it's got a rebuilt motor and a bunch of other new stuff. He's putting a new coil in it now as it hasn't wanted to start very well, so he should be back to work real soon moving manure piles.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Aw, Shit

Some weird, scrawny European woman parked at the side of the road decided to make a left turn right in front of me (and then stop in the middle of the road) on Monday as I was on my way to have sushi. Nobody gets between me and sushi. ARGH!
The first words out of her mouth: "I made an illegal U-turn, and I don't have insurance. Please let me pay you. I have money. Please don't call the police."
She was completely over-reacting over the relatively minor amount of damage and no injuries. Both cars still were drivable.
So I called 9-1-1. Four attempts later (thanks, Verizon) I finally got through ... to Bakersfield CHP. Luckily, a neighbor who heard the crash also had called.
The woman was acting so strangely, shaking and even grabbed my arm while I was attempting to call the cops, hoping to pull the phone from my ear. This is when I got back in my car, locked the door and plugged in the phone, as it said "very low battery," even though I had three battery bars. (Piece of shit phone!)
I tried to call Ricky, and of course the call wouldn't go through after several tries. Shit. I was on my way to meet our friend Dave at the sushi place, so I tried to call him. Luckily I got through on Try 2, told him I'd been in a wreck, and could he maybe come help me out, because I didn't know what this strange woman was going to pull. (It helps to have friends who are about 6'5" and have a booming voice. Tee hee.) When he arrived, I used his phone (must ask who the provider is) to get call through to Ricky and let him know what happened and that I was OK.
I hit her pretty hard, and still can't believe my air bag didn't deploy. Toyotas take a great hit!
Oh, her car: It was a Honda, maybe 6-10 years old, and had dents on practically every square inch. I wasn't even sure at first which one I had made.
My damage doesn't look that bad, but I'll bet it's at least $4,000 worth because the front unipanel is messed up, and the hood is crooked.
I have to wait a few weeks to hear the results from the police report. The cop (who got there about an hour later) was very nice. I whispered to him that she was acting weird and said she didn't have insurance. She did, however, appear to provide him proof of coverage, although he raised an eyebrow at it and said, "This doesn't look much like a new car." There was a temporary registration taped to her windshield.
I gave him my side of the story and he asked me to leave so he could talk to her. I have no idea what she said about me.
So, I'll get my car to the shop and will let you know what the damage was. Sigh. At least nobody got hurt.

Best Halloween Costume Ever

Matt, you are brilliant.

Monday, October 16, 2006

Visited Again

I love weird things.
Yesterday, Ricky and I were taking a break, sitting in front of the TV about to fall into a Sunday nap, and he says, "Say hi to Dad."
Then I smelled the scent of a cigarette that just has been lit. Neither one of us smoke, and neither did the original owners of the home.
Call us crazy, but this happens a few times a year. We choose to believe.
Before the smoke smell came, I already had thought my right side was feeling cold but it was plenty warm in the house. I was sitting to Ricky's left and lifted my right arm to show him the goosepimples. He got out of his chair and stood in the cold spot. Freaky!

Saturday, October 07, 2006

Phelan Rodeo

We went to the Phelan rodeo today and put this together for you to enjoy. It was a surprisingly good rodeo, too. There's a fun act with a father and daughter -- he rides a steer and it does tricks, and the little girl rides miniature horses. He just found out he's going to perform at the NFR this year, so look out for him in December on ESPN (if they show it.)

Addicted to "Little People, Big World"

Can't get enough of this show. And the dad is a hottie: like a mix of Richard Gere and Bill Clinton. He also was described as "A scaled-down Robert De Niro or Tony Curtis, smaller than life" on a Web site I found. What a great head of gray hair. Yummy! The pix I found on the Net sucked. You'll just have to watch the show.

Monday, October 02, 2006

We ... Are ... The 80s

Oh, gawd. The 80s are back in a big way. I saw it coming when leggings appeared a couple years ago at a Paris fashion show. I guess it was inevitable. And now "skinny jeans" are what we're supposed to be wearing. What about big hair? I still see a lot of Farrah hair out there, but I think I'm detecting the faint odor of perm solution and hair spray. (Note to self: Buy stock in Aqua Net.)
I loved my big hair. The photo is from 1986. I was 16. The same guy who sometimes did Paul Stanley's hair cut my hair, too. Hurley at Hair Pirates in Altadena. He had perfect wavy rocker hair down to his ass. Awesome.
I would save up my money for months to get my hair cut there. Back then, it was around $50 for a basic hair cut with no styling. I think my first job paid around $3.25 an hour. Ah, priorities.
I spent hours getting maximum height out of my mane, and if you touched the top of my hair it would make a CRUNCH sound. I had to shampoo three times to get all the goo out. I would hold down the button of my hair spray for a minimum of 30 seconds at a time.
Global warming? Yeah, that was me. Sorry about that.
Gosh, what else about the 80s? The music was nowhere near as good as the 70s, but it was OK. I got to attend several heavy metal concerts. Kiss, Ozzie, Metallica. I also hung out with a number of musicians who had dreams of making it big someday. I even took up the bass for a little while, until I got tendonitis so bad I hardly could hold the thing anymore. Of course I now wish I had toughed it out. Chicks who could plunk out a beat on the bass were pretty much guaranteed a spot in any garage band.
Recently, Ricky bought me a Judas Priest CD. It's really interesting to listen to the lyrics now that we know what Rob Halford was really singing about. Awesome.
The cars then were kind of ugly. Not too many classic 80s cars, except perhaps the Corvette. I drove a 1982 Chevy Cavalier my aunt gave me. The first car that was all mine. I loved it, although it went zero to 60 in ... about a fortnight.
Well, here's to the 80s. May your stirrup pants not ride down your ass and your hair never go flat.

Friday, September 29, 2006

Extreme Makeover, Do-It-Yourself Edition

I recently was accused of having a mid-life crisis.
Those who know me might think I'm acting a little more strange than usual. Wearing makeup. Being flirty. Socializing. Getting it on more with the old man (OK, tmi.)
But I'm going to let you in on what I've been going through for years: depression.
Some of this is going to sound odd, but that's OK. It all seems odd to me, too.
I met a spiritual/energy healer in 2002. I visit him roughly 2-3 times a year. He has enabled me to get off all my prescription medications (especially the evil Effexor) and get my body working better. I have 75 percent fewer aches and pains. I've slowly lost weight and have kept it off.
He helps get my energy/chi/whateveryouwannacallit going in the right direction, and he tells me things about my life that I need to keep an eye out for. And I've experienced some things that make me think this is more than just a parlor trick. Actually, I don't care what it is ... he has been an interesting and a very positive presence in my life.
It's all very new-agey "Woman, Heal Thyself" kind of stuff.
When I met him, he said I had a lot of anger inside and that I was not in balance with my male and female selves. This was the cause of my depression, which manifested in sleeping too much and generally not doing much at all. No passion about what I did, just going through the motions. And not letting myself enjoy life when things were good (which they've been pretty much all along.)
With an awful lot of work on my part, he said I'd know when I had moved toward balance and again gotten in touch with my female self. (Get your mind out of the gutter.) He says I've been a tomboy (for lack of a better term) since I was young. Not like gay/tomboy, but just un-feminine. I suppose he was spot on: I hated dolls, dresses, other little girls. When I got my period, I tried to hide it. As a child, a lot of my friends were boys, and then I had lots of boyfriends (and the drama really began!) I got a little crazy when I was in my teens and honestly overdid the makeup, the hair, etc. I had no idea what I was doing with all that womanpower. Luckily, I survived relatively unscathed and settled down with a saint.
But I've fallen back into tomboy mode and have really let myself go. The I'll-just-throw-on-a-ballcap-and-be-out-the-door kind of letting go. Can't say I've felt all that attractive in many years. Ricky constantly has told me I am, but he'd usually get a "you're nuts" look from me.
I'm still trying to sort out the "why" of the tomboy thing, but I think it could have something to do with my observations of women and society. Since I was about 3, I've had a strong sense of justice and couldn't understand why I had to be different, act different, look different than my brothers. A born feminist. Yoikes.
Not sure when the tide turned but for the first time in my life I began to like myself, what I've become, who I will become. I'm finally, hallelujah, moving toward being centered. And others seemed to have noticed that I'm more comfortable in my skin. People come up and talk to me now. Before, they seemed to be afraid of me. (Gee, coulda been the permanent scowl.) I smile more. I look people in the eye more. I'm also the one who says "Hi, how are you?" first now.
So, after I've figured out how to put on makeup again, why not be a HOT feminist, right?
I'm growing my hair long again. I want babe hair, dammit. I'm going to have babe hair when I'm an old woman, too. I want to look better in my 40s than I did in my 20s. You know, a MILF with no kids.
Oh, I'm still definitely me. Don't intend to change THAT much.
I'm still the earthy chick who can belch with the best of 'em.
"I am woman, hear me (buuuuuuuuuurp) roar. "