Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Animal Lover

It is 11:40 pm and I have just come inside from a rousing confrontation with nature.  You should understand my views on nature and animals.  I don't camp.  I will fish so long as I am not required to touch any fish.  I don't hunt.  But not because I don't believe in killing animals, it's just that you have to carry so much gear and walk so far and I think camouflage clothing is a requirement.  I don't do camo.  It's not in my color scheme.  If "hunting" is going to require more of me that just slipping a .357 out of my handbag, it's not for me.  When I hear "PETA", I think triangular bread for my hummus.  When my friends forward me adorable pictures of chinchillas doing oh so cute things, I wonder how many it would take to make a sweater and can I just shave them or is skinning involved?  Not that I'm opposed to skinning.  I'd just have to get all the knives sharpened first.  I like to be prepared and think ahead.

But on to my last few minutes of existence.  I leashed the family Basset hound, Roscoe, and set out for one more leisure sprint as he threatens to dislocate my shoulder finding every spot he's already peed on four times today.  We made it as far as the end of the driveway when I noticed something long and thin lying in our path.  Roscoe is known to eat small frogs, moths, lizards, flies, bees and gave it the 'ol college try at a Japanese beetle.  The last one didn't end so well for him but I found it funny.  I immediately thought, since we've had considerable rain, a long earthworm had stranded itself on the concrete and was faced with two options: being dried out by the blistering 90 degree weather we're sure to have tomorrow or being eaten by a lazy hound.  I decided his fate and pulled Roscoe away.  I don't want the dog breathing on me later with worm breath.  But the "worm" wasn't appreciative.  In fact, the bastard came at us and not in a "Hey, let's be friends" manner.  It slithered at us and even pulled itself up off the driveway to lunge at us.  For others of you out there less informed about nature than me (I'm jealous!), worms don't slither.  And they sure as hell don't lunge! With a break-neck jerk (seriously...I may have to have the vet look at the dog's neck), I pulled the dog, ran inside and woke my soon-to-be-ex husband up.  (Don't ask.  I'm fine.  He's fine.  It's fine.  Any finer and it'd be frog hair.)

"James!  Come kill this snake!  It looks like a baby copperhead!"

We have those here.  We saw a dead one several months ago.  Not far from our street light.  Granted, I'm no Jack Hanna, but I felt it reasonable to panic.  I'm demanding a half asleep man who wouldn't move at a turtle's pace even if his ass were on fire to run out the door, find a suitable weapon, race to the end of the driveway and commence with the killing.  I knew the likelihood of the snake idling away before he would get there.  So what does the father of my children do?  He walks to the end of the driveway.  WALKS.  And what's worse?  He walks empty handed.  What's he gonna do??  Beat it with a boat shoe??  Upon reaching the snake, which is miraculously still there but managing to inch closer to the yard, he says "Come down here and watch it while I get the shovel."

Watch it what? Slide away?  And do what?  Give a play by play?  "Oh he's in the grass.  On to the neighbor's yard and rounding the azalea. He's SAFE!"  What the fuck?

"No...YOU watch it.  I'll get the shovel!"  Unfortunately, it's dark, I'm balancing my brain functions between holding a cigarette and staying in my flip flops all the while accepting that ever pine needle, piece of straw or stick that touches my foot is a snake bigger and deadlier than the one NOT being eliminated in my driveway. "I can't find a shovel!!"

Then he's at my side saying "Right there!"
Me: "That's a SNOW shovel."
James: "Well I don't think they make SNAKE shovels."
Me: "They should!  Even those spade tipped shovels are shit!  Your aim has to be perfect to hit a target that small and can fling itself at you and latch on."
James: "The snake isn't big enough too latch on."
Me: "That shovel is less than useless with snow.  How is it going to kill the snake?  I'm getting a hammer."
James: "We don't need a hammer."
Me:  "I'll tell ya what we don't need.  We don't need a snow shovel that takes 7 minutes to dig out of a shed when it snows once every 5 years and we don't need a fucking poisonous snake in the driveway."

Right.  The snake.  That NO ONE is watching now.  I run to snake, slowing down when it's apparent that it's still lying there.  Obviously toying with us.  As James meanders down the drive, I begin giving precise directions on how to kill it. "Slam it! Slam it! Slam it! Cut it's head off!  It's not dead til you see guts!"

The killing of a one foot pencil thin potentially venomous snake with a snow shovel takes approximately just as long as it did to find and free the snow shovel...only louder.  It sounded like he was digging up the road and laying asphalt.  I asked him to drag the carcass into the light so I could inspect the eyes and markings.  Move over Jack Hanna!

As we walked back into the house, both damp with perspiration - him from spanking a snake to death and shoveling it down the storm water drain and me from trying to keep from ashing on myself whilst cheering loudly at the demise of a deadly snake, I reminded him that we must be on the lookout for more.  The boys can't be in the yard and happen upon one.

As things settled, I logged onto Google and searched common North Carolina snakes.  Conveniently, there is a site dedicated to just that with detailed pictures and information.  Turns out he bludgeoned a non venomous water snake like it was a 10 foot black mamba, which, by the way, AREN'T indigenous to North Carolina or even North America for that matter.  But if they feel like making an appearance, we're ok.  We've got a snow shovel.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Bee Strong

This is an example of how I won't be typically blogging but I felt it necessary to get out just the same because tonight I'm hurting.  And the person I want to help me, doesn't know how to talk to me. Seems like that's always been my issue.  I'm difficult, complicated, dramatic, unworthy of patience, compassion and understanding and always trying to someone's nerves.  That's me.  It's not exactly how I want to be and some of my personality is uncontrollable.  Most of me wants a fairy tale.  Someone who will see ALL of me and think "Even at her worst, she ain't that bad" instead of thinking "Jesus Christ, she's driving me crazy.  I can't deal with this."  Is that too much?

I'm tired.  I just wanted tenderness and closeness.  I wanted the words and the actions.  Yes, actions speak louder but when you haven't heard the words in so long that you forget the impact of the sound...the words are powerful.

The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time
I am here still waiting though i still have my doubts
I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain, there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on
I'm barely holdin' on to you

The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead
I still see your reflection inside of my eyes
That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
with a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain (in the pain), is there healing
In your name (in your name) I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin')
I'm barely holdin' on to you

I'm hangin' on another day
Just to see what you throw my way
And I'm hanging on to the words you say
You said that I will be OK

The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone
I may have lost my way now, haven't forgotten my way home

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
with a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain(In the pain) there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'),
I'm barely holdin' on to you

I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'),
I'm barely holdin' on to you

(The above are lyrics to Broken by Lifehouse.  One of my favorite songs.  I believe that if I can ever make it through the song without crying, I've made it.)

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Upgrade This!

It's no secret that most of the world today is plugged in and online.  They are searching, scrolling, emailing, posting, tweeting, making purchases, uploading videos, playing video games and sometimes a combination of all at the same time on their cellphones! We have to have the latest gadgets and gizmos. Life must be easier!!  I hear many complain about this.  That society has lost itself in a sea of raging technological advances and has forgotten how to do and think for themselves. Studies have been done to determine the effects of this constant barrage of information and stimulation to children and adults alike.  I don't need to see study results.  I just watch people around me to see how we are holding up.  Let me tell ya...we ain't lookin' so good.

Yes.  We are overweight and distracted.  If it takes longer than the time to microwave a hot pocket, we can't wait.  We've got things to do!  Gotta run down and buy the latest addition of Halo, set TiVo to record that new vampire show that is going to be so much better than the last five attempts to convince us that while vampires are nasty pale and suck blood they can feel love too and download 100 songs to add to the accumulated rotation that already has a continual play time of 742 hours. Busy, busy, busy!

My biggest complaint with technology is cell phones.  Not so much the cell phones themselves, even though by the time I get my new phone and learn all the little bells and whistles, it's time for an upgrade. And while I have accepted that I do require a cell phone to live (What?  It's not like I'm some rock dweller who communicates through smoke signals!) I don't understand the attraction of so many bells and whistles.  I want a low maintenance phone.  I want to talk (gasp!) and text.  I'll suck it up and adapt to the camera function but I'm not happy about it!  I don't want to go blind watching tv shows on my phone screen.  Here's a secret.  I have a television!  I don't want to listen to music on my phone.  Psst.   I have a radio and even jumped on the ipod bandwagon.  I don't want to take pictures with my phone.  Yep.  Got a camera.  It pisses me off to no end that most of the pictures I've taken with my phone look like I shot them while approaching warp speed.  "Is that blur Grandma or the cool mushrooms we found in the yard?"  I never wanted to be a surgeon but DAMN can I not get one picture that doesn't look like I'm having a Parkinson's attack.

Which brings me to my biggest complaint about cell phones - other people who own cell phones.  They are always trying to convince you that what you have is one step up from two cans and a string while they are one step away from communicating to extraterrestrial life. "My phone instantly uploads pictures to Facebook, reminds me of all my favorite television show premieres, allows me to check the weather without going outside, book flights and hotels without talking to anyone, order lunch and dinner AND have it delivered, reserves movies, let me know my bank balance, keeps track of my receipts..." Yadda, yadda, yadda.  To which I say, "Does it have a defibrillator and a breathing tube, fat ass, so that when your muscles atrophy and you start growing to the that chair you might have some chance of surviving?  You know, just so you can get the next upgrade."

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

The Beegininng

My first post.  Let me preface this post with an explanation as to why I decided to (re)attempt to blog and what you can and cannot expect from me.  I am a high strung, overly dramatic, and intensely opinionated woman.  I have a low tolerance for stupidity and am easily agitated by the senseless. I'm mostly pessimistic and completely sarcastic. These are my finer qualities.

This blog will contain random thoughts, observations and what many may label as disturbing streams of consciousness.  I will not be posting pictures of crafts that I've made, recipes that I've tried or inspirational motivations.  I have nothing against these type of blogs.  I understand there is a huge following for those who have interests in the aforementioned.  And even I find them intriguing at times.  I'll check in, see an antique bedpan transformed into an adorable planter.  I'll get all excited and nostalgic and feel a brief moment of motivation before I realize, "Damn! This will never work. I don't touch dirt...or bedpans!"  You will find occasional swearing.  Words are powerful and I don't discriminate amongst potential additives of written composition.

I will voice an opinion on anything and almost everything.  No one subject is off limits.  I try not to attack people without provocation.  Most people, I find, are just asking for it.

So between finding most people intolerable and finding I'm bordering intolerable to people I know with my precise wit, daring sarcasm and all around dazzling charm...I'm also finding my social circle is dwindling. Which is perfectly fine by me.  Just more blog fodder.