Back for seconds, Di¢# I mean Rick?
It’s one of my very favorite things in life. No beef please, my barbecue must be of pork status, thankyouverymuch. Although I have a few local favorites, my top pick would be The Woodlands located in the Blue Ridge mountains of Blowing Rock, NC.
If you’re ever in the area… hit ’em up. Be sure and tell ’em I sent ya. (Bonnie who?? Oh yeahhh… that girl who drains an entire bottle of sauce and empties a roll of paper towels each time – gotcha.)
Hailing from the Carolinas myself, I simply have to go there. Ya just gotta love that new method of earning votes. Hey, I’m sure there’s a master plan in there somewhere. (choke-snort-snicker)
Don’t listen to him, folks. Our barbecue will absolutely rock your world. As far as roadkill – it’s seems obvious that ole’ ®ick has had a helping or two in his lifetime, since he’s now expert enough to compare it to our pork.
Back for seconds, Rick? Here’s your warm southern welcome.
My Soda Addiction
I love soft drinks. Not just any soft drinks – in particular Diet Coke and Diet Dr. Pepper. As bad as I hate to admit, I consume an overwhelming amount of them. I’ll go so far as to say it’s a big part of my daily life. Because I adore both brands equally, I consume each in equal amounts – adding to my list of many quirks.
For many years, it’s been my morning coffee, my ‘get through the morning’ pacifier, my lunch drink, ditto the afternoon pacifier and into the evening. If my stockpile goes below two 6-packs of bottles (I prefer cans though lately bottles have been more economical) I get anxious and start thinking about natural catastrophes and being caught without them. It’s a must to have them cold – if my current one dips above what I consider to be cold enough, it makes a temporary trip to the freezer and out comes a new one. POOF! Cold once again. Life is good.
I’m starting to classify this as one of many addictions I may have in life.
After being told for years that I need to cut back, I believe I’ve been in denial. In my experience, denial often spawns rebellion. I’ve ignored the old ‘put a rusty nail in a glass of coke and watch it eat the rust off’ and ‘pour a glass of coke on battery acid to eat the acid off’ fables. Well, I guess they’re not really fables.
This weekend, I came down with my very first bladder infection. I can report that it’s debut was not welcomed. The doc prescribed me some kick-butt antibods and after weathering the storm I’m feeling better now. I can only assume that since I’ve never had one, could it possibly have to do with the massive amounts of soda I consume every day? I’ve been almost three days without soft drinks, aside from an unconscious order of one for Mexican dinner out night last night (it really was habit – I didn’t even realize it until the waiter sat it down in front of me). I’m not even missing them that much. But I can still feel residual traces running through my veins – it’s gonna take awhile. When all is said and done, I still want to be able to enjoy one every now and then.
Does anyone else have a soft drink addiction?
Three dreams…
Attempting to interpret dreams can be as hopeless and painstaking as searching for a lost shipwreck. There may be multiple meanings that exist in dreams, or no meaning at all. Many of them are simply the result of our collective subconscious working overtime. Nevertheless, I find it fascinating to see what could be a hint or preview of what could end up being reality. If nothing else, I always pay attention.
Glass Breaking.
I was in a large kitchen that resembled an industrial one – supposedly part of a place where my daughter was getting ready to move (her real-life upcoming move was to be the following weekend). I was on a stepladder trying to balance several boxes stacked high, all of which were threatening to crash to the floor. Try as I might, I could not hold them. One by one, the boxes crashed down, each containing glass – soon I was surrounded by glass on the floor. I remember thinking there was no way I’d ever get it all completely cleaned up, that there would always be a danger of someone cutting their foot.
To see broken glass in your dream signifies disappointments and negative changes in your life. Alternatively, it could be symbolic of an aspect of your life that is in pieces. A relationaship or situation has come to an abrupt and untimely end. If you are walking on broken glass, then it suggests that you will be experiencing some heartache or pain. You are unsure with how to proceed with your life.
Spiders.
They were on the wall – one by one they showed up, only one at a time. They weren’t large, each being about the size of the depressor on bic lighter. Every time a new one came around I killed it.
To see a spider in your dream indicates that you are feeling like an outsider in some situation. Or perhaps you want to keep your distance and stay away from an alluring and tempting situation. The spider is also symbolic of feminine power or an overbearing mother figure in your life. Alternatively, a spider refers to a powerful force protecting you against your self-destructive behavior. If your kill a spider in your dream, then it symbolizes misfortune and bad luck. To see a spider climbing up a wall in your dream denotes that your desires will soon be realized.
A Turtle.
Just two nights ago, I was holding a box turtle. About the size of a cantaloupe, he had his head and limbs stretched out. Looking back it reminds me of one Keith and I had rescued from the road a few months back, except that real-life one was larger. The turtle had his head stretched back around in ‘ET’ fashion, looking directly into my eyes. His little feet were swimming back and forth like they so often do when nothing is under them – I could feel his little claws hitting my fingers.
To see a turtle in your dream symbolizes wisdom, faithfulness, longevity and loyalty. It also suggests that you need to take it slow in some situation or relationship in your life. That with time and patience, you will make steady progress. Alternatively, a turtle indicates that you are sheltering yourself from the realities of life. You are putting forth a hard exterior and not letting others in. As a result, you are feeling withdrawn.
**I realize my posts are often vague or oblique to say the least – as I’ve said before, I do that to maintain anonymity. There’s an old southern saying that my mother used to tell me, ‘you’re getting too big for your britches’. As I look back, she had good reason to use it. The idiom refers to a person who is over-extending their authority or is being bossy, a person who may have a conceited and exaggerated sense of their own importance, perhaps to the point of even injecting their self or their opinion where they aren’t needed. It’s pretty cut and dried to me. In the end, it’s really about your respect for others – you either have it or you don’t.
Questions, always
The subject always heats me up in a bad way. Each time I try to write about it I end up backspacing, deleting, rewriting – and guess what? I still end up all over the place. This is sure to be no exception.
A guy I know is going through a rough time. Upon recently learning of his wife’s affair with a co-worker, he confronted her on it. She pledged to ‘end’ it, but obviously didn’t. Long story short, he left her this past weekend.
My curse of thinking too much strikes again, as question after question invades my thoughts. Even if she had ‘ended it’ like she promised, could she really have continued working with the ex-lover? And if so, could my friend have slept well at night knowing the two were still ‘together’, albeit on the job?
Welcome to today’s world where the females are definitely giving the males a run for their money on this issue. At the risk of sounding crude… I’ve gotta go there. Why can’t these people keep their pants on? Can an hour of pleasure really be worth destroying the life of your spouse and/or children? Does your stomach not twist up in worry and angst over what you’ve done – or at least from fear of getting caught? And are ya really gonna trust someone you cheated with not to do the same to you later?
Don’t get me wrong – I absolutely do have great respect for those who’ve been able to get past an affair and ultimately save their marriage. I just can’t imagine many cases turning out like that.
I’ve heard the words reason or exception thrown around, I say SAVE IT. No reasons or exceptions matter to me in this most tender area. Yes I have an assload of sins myself, but infidelity isn’t in that huge pile and it never will be. I know some might call my views one-sided, and maybe they are – but they’re mine. Infidelity within a marriage is a certain removal of trust – the most personal betrayal – a definite stab in the heart. Who knows what goes on in a cheater’s head – I’m just unable to rationalize it in any way shape or form.
Makin’ Waves
At long last, we’re making a little trip down to the coast. Sure it’s no 7-day caribbean cruise like my daughter just came back from, but it totally works for me. It’ll be nice to get away, even for a few nights! Forecast is calling for cooler temps with possible showers, but it’s all good since we’re not currently in the path of a hurricane. Hoo – wahh.
Last night Keith mentioned taking a couple of rods with us so we could go pier fishing – something I’ve wanted to do for years. Being a fishie myself, I’ll of course throw back any fishies that I’m lucky enough to snag. ‘Cause that’s how I roll.
All this led me to some serious thinking.
Common Sense Beach Thoughts, by Bon:
- It’s September, so don’t wade too far out in the ocean if you favor the concept of a complete pair of legs.
- While enjoying a leisurely stroll on the beach, keep a sharp eye out for those huge wooden structures called piers. Avoid any and all contact between them and the top of your head.
- Relish the memories of previous parasailing events and resist the urge, however strong, to do it again. Your luck on not having yet become just another accident statistic is bound to run out sometime.
- Do not opt to eat at Taco Bell immediately prior to taking a dolphin watch cruise on the ocean.
- Never wait until mid-September to decide you’d like to add ‘just one more bathing suit’ to your collection. All that’s left in that area of the store is chirping crickets.
Now… if I can just figure out where to score one of these fins and an invisible push-up bra
I’ll be set. The hair extension part is easy.
😀
A Day of Remembrance
This ten-year mark of the September eleventh attacks will be a little different than the prior nine.
What’s sure to be an emotional unveiling of the 9/11 Memorial and Museum will happen this Sunday morning of September 11 2011. It has been a long-awaited and intricately planned project to say the least. Granted, these are my words. I realize there are no ‘appropriate’ words to use to describe the attack itself, it’s Memorial nor the intense emotions that run so deep when one thinks back to that fateful day ten years ago.
This past weekend I watched a 2-hour special on the years of work leading up to the completion of the 9/11 Memorial Site and Museum. All the time, effort and respect shown by everyone involved was nothing short of an amazing story. It had it all – love, grief, courage, oneness. Such an important word in the continued endeavor to heal – ONENESS. I believe the generations that went through these attacks will be working to heal for the rest of their lives.
To me, there could be no more appropriate memorial than this beautiful one that took so long to conceptualize and create. Two seemingly ‘endless’ pools sit on the area where the Twin Towers once stood. They are each nearly an acre in size and feature the largest man-made waterfalls in North America. The large pool of the initial waterfall spawns a second small one in the center which appears to cascade infinitely into the earth. The surrounding bronze panels edging the pools are carefully inscribed with the names of every person who perished in both the 2001 and 1993 attacks. I can’t imagine there being many dry eyes for those citizens witnessing the unveiling of this Memorial, whether in person or on television.
I’ve been told more than once that I ‘dwell’ too much on the most horrific terror attack in modern history. My answer to that is and always will be, so be it. One time when I brought it up to a close friend, I was dismissed with I never want to think about it again – it’s too horrible. It’s something that’s already happened and in the past now. As much as I still love this person, I’ll never forget the impact of hearing those words. Just mere days after the attack, when airplanes had yet to be given clearance to fly in our skies again – my ex husband told me I can’t watch any more of this, I’ve had it. From then on, just about everything else I watched had to be on my own time – adjusted around other shows which seemed to take precedence over 9/11. Again, so be it. I can report with much confidence that I did continue seeking information, and by the grace of God, I got it.
I’ve said this before but feel it bears repeating – I’d rather have nightmares about 9/11 every night for the rest of my life than to ever to forget about it. It’s true each of us are different, and we all have our own ways of dealing with tragedy. I realize this post is only one person’s views of the lasting effects from the largest loss of life from a foreign attack in the US so far. But let us not confuse the term ‘morbid dwelling’ with somber respect and remembrance. The act of remembering September 11th isn’t just black or white – equally as important are the shades of grey in between.
Official 9/11 Memorial Site 9/11 Memorial Webcam
Roadtrip
I love spontaneous roadtrips. With us they usually end up in the mountains, and I’ve grown to love the area a lot. Yesterday we set out early to Maggie Valley/Cherokee, NC. This is the location of mine and Keith’s very first trip together over two years ago, and I was surprised to see how much I remembered about it! Maybe my old memory isn’t as bad as I thought it was. Keith has Cherokee roots from his mother’s side of the family, and even looks the part. He could probably put on a headdress and pass very well.
We mostly walked both towns and perused the shops,, and ended up in Waynesville to eat dinner. Thought I’d share some photos of my favorite findings of the day – I hope everyone has a enjoyable and safe Labor Day Weekend!
Pear Smiling
It usually takes a while to adjust to new living conditions, whether you’ve made the move yourself or someone else has moved in with you. After several months, it’s fair to say Keith and I have established a good little ‘routine’ with daily duties such as dinner, grocery shopping, laundry and other things.
During our grocery trip this Saturday, we lingered in the produce department – everything seemed to look extra-good. We happened upon a batch of pears, which I don’t normally buy.
Keith: ‘You like pears?’
Me: ‘I dunno. Don’t think I’ve ever tried them.’
Keith: ‘Oh, they’re good – if you get the right one.’
Me: ‘Yeah, my dad likes pears (the right ones).’
K fondles picks up the pears and puts each one back, them obviously not being up to his standard. Rounding the corner, he utters ‘aha!’ and walks over to another batch, eyeing them like an old girlfriend. Since I’m a pear newbie, I can’t remember the type – Bartlett or Bosc, I think – they had bits of green and brown. I watched as he gingerly picked a few up, felt them, smelled them.
This flashed me right back to a scene from a favorite movie, City of Angels – of Meg Ryan picking up the pears and smelling them. Of Nicolas Cage learning how to do it by intently watching her. It looked like that exact same type of pear.
Anyone remember the HBO series Dream On from the 90’s? I loved that show. It featured a neurotic New Yorker (Brian Benben) whose real life antics always drummed up scenes of old TV shows. Reminds me of someone I know…
Falling Chips
My mother and her husband finally got out of town for a couple of days. She’s had a rough Summer with her brother passing away recently from a terminal illness, add to that the fact they haven’t been anywhere in years. Everyone deserves a vacation every now and then, and it’s been way too long for them.
Our family has this unique ability of finding humor in our own self, and Mom is no exception. The kind of laughter I heard from her yesterday was priceless, it’s the kind of laughter I haven’t heard in a long time. Mammaw was terrific at it too, and Mom is definitely a chip off the ole’ block! She was laughing so hard I couldn’t even understand her (no alcohol involved). Of course she couldn’t leave her husband out of the ‘roast’, so he got included too. 🙂
The complicated directions they were given to their room in the casino hotel made me think of the Griswold’s Vegas Vacation. There’s my sick sense of humor – I usually think of a movie to compare things to. Now, if Mom comes home with Wayne Newton on her arm I’m gonna have to give her a lecture.
Setting Stages
Have you ever wished for something, and over time found yourself subliminally ‘padding the way’ for it to happen? Not necessarily ‘making it happen’ or ‘helping it out’ – but perhaps making it ‘easier to occur’?
Setting the stage, so to speak.
It has recently come to my attention that I may be unintentionally doing this. Once I realized it for what it really was, I was disappointed in myself. The sheer anticipation of certain hopes and dreams somehow warped my brain into thinking that I need to provide my assistance or guidance in order for them to happen.
Go out and grab life by the horns, Bon. Seize the world – it’s yours. Make your own destiny. It’s never too late to be what you might have been. I heard it all. And I listened.
After twenty-three years of marriage I was the proud owner of a can’t-think-for-myself brain. Once I finally met and became acquainted with ME 1.0, I convinced myself I had to become a strong individual and maintain control and direction. I’m still (slowly) learning that exercising that ‘control’ does not and should not apply to every single thing in life. Some things need to occur naturally if they are to occur – and over time. Unwittingly setting the stage isn’t always appropriate.
Certain dreams and aspirations I have will either come true or they won’t. I have to come to the realization that some things in life just do not need my assistance.
FD Marathon
The movie Final Destination 5 is out and I’m dying to see it. Friday I found out that Keith not only hasn’t seen 3 or 4 (the usual average missed in a series of movies) but he has yet to see any of them. I can now report we officially have a Final Destination edumacation – that is, except for the new and improved #5. Full-screen trailer can be seen here.
For those who don’t know what the movies are about, each starts something like this. One person within a group has a vision of something catastrophic that’s about to happen. This ‘vision’ of impending doom shakes the person up, causing them to freak out and immediately abandon whatever it is they’re doing. A small group of people also follow his/her lead, thereby saving their own lives when that vision actually comes to life a few minutes later. Thing is, this whole new series of events screws up what they call ‘death’s design’ – so one by one, each person of that group meets their fate in some freak accident. And, they die in the same pecking order as they would have had they not exited their original… final destination.
I haven’t watched this much tube in like five years or more – my eyes hurt. FD1 Friday night, FD2 Saturday morning, FD3 Saturday night and the FD4 Sunday afternoon. Any Final Destination trivia can be thrown this way, please.
In an endeavor to keep my very own final destination at least an arm’s length distance or better, I’ve learned a few things not to do…
- Never, under any circumstance, should you stand anywhere near a barbed wire fence.
- When boarding your local roller coaster, think twice about actually belting yourself in.
- Always look both ways before crossing the street. Twice. Three times, even better.
- When entering a tanning bed, never pull it all the way closed.
- If you ever go visit Paris, make sure you’re not on Flight 180. In fact, if you see those three numbers listed anywhere near you in that particular order – run, don’t walk.
- When swimming in a public pool, it may actually benefit you to wear your swimmies.
- Avoid nail guns at all costs. Hammers still do the job well, with a little more effort involved.
- A fire escape may not serve as an actual escape.
- If your car has had electrical problems in the past – you may want to avoid car washes.
- Never ever enter an elevator with someone who is holding a box of prosthetic hooks.
- Duct tape has an endless variety of uses – including safeguarding your house.
- If a pigeon continually crashes into your dentist’s office window – leave immediately and find another dentist.
- It’s not a bad thing to pay attention to to your visions and inner voices. Just don’t let it drive you crazy…
Name That Place
Since the ole’ anniversary’s over with now, guess I can spill the beans about what I got Keith. Pack up the kids – we’re goin’ to Biltmore! (just kidding about the kid part.)
Yep, I said we.
This was my present to him, two tickets to The Biltmore House. I suppose it might sound a little self-serving (or a lot, depending on who you are)… but just what do you get a guy who’s got everything (including me)? 😀
I pondered what to get him for months. Here’s the lowdown on said conversation(s) with myself.
Me: Electronics? Guys always like electronics…
Inner Self: He’s already got everything. Besides, I’d need at least two grand or more to impress him in that area.
Me: Clothing? Maybe some fall wear?
Inner Self: I’ve gotten him apparel as a filler for every occasion for two years. He’s gotta be so sick of it by now.
Me: Jewelry?
Inner Self: C’mon Bon, really? What, a nice necklace (already has)… a bracelet (won’t wear one)… a watch (has five or more)… hey how ’bout a ring?? (Smacks self in forehead) Now what kind of an impression would that lead to? Talk about self-serving…
Enter ‘trip’ thoughts.
Me: Beach?
Inner Self: We were planning that anyway.
Que the Biltmore House. We’d talked about going there but had never made any final plans. Not only is it expensive – but devoting one lone day to seeing everything just isn’t going to cut it. At least eight full hours are needed there, maybe more for the winery and gardens – and it’s about a 2 1/2-hour trip one way. So an overnight stay would definitely be in order.
Neither of us have ever been before – I’d never have considered it if he had. Two native Carolinians who’ve never been to Biltmore usually make for interesting conversations with some of the older locals. Whenever we feel like pushing it a step further so as to to appear sheltered, we’ll throw in the fact that neither of us have ever been to Charleston, either.
The poor babes, they really do need to get out more. These places have been around since the arc.
It’s probably the closest we’ll ever come to being in a castle. I’m ready to be mesmerized and enchanted…
My Favorite Cow is a Bull
For the past few months, I’ve admired a certain cow during my drive in to work. There she stood each day, huddled with her comrades in a misty morning field. I’d often see her in groups ‘kissing’ with some of the others. Now I didn’t know if they were actually kissing or not – but the Bon in me just wanted to believe this was a cow’s way of being cute and sweet.
I’ve always been a sucker for odd markings (take my cat for example) and this cow’s markings definitely fell into the unusual category. Dark legs complimented her cream-colored base, and thick black rings accentuated her huge eyes. She really stood out from all the others, and I found myself searching her out each time I came up on that field.
On the way home from work last Friday, ‘my’ cow was standing all by herself roadside at the fence. I did a three-point road turn and positioned myself right smack in front of her…
…errrrr… HIM.
In retrospect I guess I should’ve known it was a he, but this city girl hasn’t been around many bulls and cows in her life. I’ll also stand by my defense of having not seen him up close until Friday. Thirdly, I didn’t think bulls were allowed to mingle freely with the cows… I mean, do these girls get any rest? I don’t mean to be crude, but this has to coincide with at least some of the more intense mooing I hear coming from that field around dusk each night.
As soon as I reached him and stopped, I immediately noted the large horns upon his head. This majestic creature stood there and subliminally yelled out to me “I am MAN, hear me roar” then snorted a mild “hummfff”. As I sat in my car with him and I separated by a mere fifteen feet and five pieces of wire – it suddenly struck me that I might need to grow a brain and moooove along…
Well… after I squeeze in a small photo opp, of course. Isn’t he beautiful handsome??
MY Bucket List
If any of you out there would like to do this – I’d love to read yours!!
‘Every man dies. Not every man really lives.’ ~William Ross
- Cage-diving with great white sharks. Though I prefer great whites off the coast of South Africa – any shark over 12 ft. in any ocean will do. Second choice of sharks would be bulls or tigers.
- Swim in a clear blue sea. This could be anywhere from the Caribbean to the Keys. As long as it’s clear and blue.
Experience what it’s like to be proposed to.- Write a book. One that gets published – even better.
- Zip-line somewhere in or near a tropical setting.
- Witness a media shower.
- Wear a wedding dress.
- Swim with dolphins. Not just coexist in the water together – I want to touch them, let them pull me around, and give them kisses. 🙂
- Own my own boat. Not a yacht or anything – just one that could tote 8-10 people around comfortably.
- Learn to Salsa Dance… well.
- Learn to surf. Five full seconds atop a wave would make me uber-happy.
- Have Gary LeVox and the band of Rascal Flatts sing live to me.
- Get my passport. When I finally win that trip around the world I’d like to be able to actually go, after all.
- Go sailing. Real sailing. On a real moving sailboat.
- Get a tattoo of a butterfly. And I can stop at one. At least I think I can.
- Possess a concealed carry permit. Along with my piece.
- Revisit my birthplace, Muenchweiler, Germany.
(Footnote: I have no qualms about combo-packaging numbers 11, 8, 5, 2 and 1.)
Bucket Lists
We’ve all heard about them. Famous people have written them; a Hollywood movie was even filmed about them. Just for the fun of it, I started out to write my own. Something that just wasn’t meant to happen today.
Whenever I hear of a bucket list, I always think about my precious grandma. She didn’t have a list that we knew of, at least not a written one. But everyone who knew Mammaw was well aware of the one thing she wanted to do before she kicked the bucket (her words). She wanted to travel out west in an RV – through the big state of Texas right on into Arizona. Just her, us, and the open road. She had a deep passion for growing cactus, and all the varying species she grew here in North Carolina thrived. One day she had hoped to stand beside those big cactuses in Arizona.
On Christmas Day one year, her son got her what he thought to be the most hilarious gag gift. He brought her outside to find a surprise toy Winnebago ‘parked’ in the driveway behind her little Toyota Corolla. Ill-timed? Probably. I’ll be the first to admit that my Mammaw was the Queen of jokes and pranks – but I never will forget that twinge of disappointment she attempted to hide behind those deep brown eyes that day.
Through the years, she dearly loved the other toy replicas that were given to her as interim gifts. On a table in her living room, she proudly displayed her 2ft. wide intricate wood-carved covered wagon. It ended up surrounded with some of her authentic cactus and given a complete family, which she dressed up in era-appropriate western garb and bonnets.
She really yearned for that trip, but never got it. Looking back now, I’d do anything to have made that trip happen for her.
If Mammaw had had a bucket list, I know this trip would have appeared at the top. Not that writing your wants down necessarily makes them happen. I’ll go a step further to say the trip would’ve been the only thing on her list…
Kumbaya, Sweet Slumber
The ghosts of the past who appear in my recent dreams are starting to wear me down. Saturday and Sunday nights were both restless; when sleep did come it was packed full of crappy dreams. Weird, emotional, gross, sad, useless – all of it. In dire need of sleep, I retired early again last night. Once more, the ghosts of times past infiltrated my dreams. None of these entities have a current role in our lives, so I just couldn’t imagine a reason for them being in the dreams.
It’s not like me to have repetitive dreams of a undesirable nature, but I believe I’ve at least figured out the cause of them. As of recent, I’ve been putting more thought into the future than ever before. Sometimes when you contemplate the future you inadvertently propel yourself into the past – whether or not you want to. Your subconscious thoughts can and will manifest into your dreams. The fine line between fantasy and reality has never been a difficult thing for me to discern. That said, I now find a slice of my reality being spent fighting demons ensued by the dreams that decide to hang around and poke me with a stick the next day.
- ©Disney
A long time ago I was asked, ‘Which would you prefer? The devil you know, or the devil you don’t know?’. My answer was ‘The devil I know’. Somehow I have to figure out how to not pick both.
Sunflower Fields Forever
This field is located about a mile down from the house. Being that I took the picture about 3 weeks ago, unfortunately the poor flowers have now either passed their prime or are severely drought-stricken. The picture was inspiration for my ever-amateurish little poem, which I write very few of.
Sunflower Fields Forever
Tucked away from all the hype
and bustle of the town
there lies a field where there are only
sunflowers allowed.
Long necks stretch up ever-taught
Their heads gaze oh so high
In their attempt to say ‘hello there’
way up to the sky.
Simple, timeless is their beauty
of vibrancy and hue
Unknowingly an artists’ vision
Of canvas dreams come true.
They have one wish – to kiss the sun
This kiss shall set them free
It is, dear flower, after all
Where you’re supposed to be.
It’s not the first time we have met
In dreams I’ve seen you here
Soon in this field you’ll rest your heads
‘Til next you reappear.
~Life of Bon, 2011
Chillin’ on a Dirt Road, Pt. 2
A while back I posted a vid of one of my current song faves – Jason Aldean’s “Dirt Road Anthem”. I just noticed today they removed the embedding ability for musical copyright issues. While searching for a replacement, I ran across a GEM of a piece that I just had to share…
It’s not the entire song, but enough for you to form an opinion whether or not you like it. My props go out to them for the entire arrangement – that’s really a truck they’re in, too. Wish it was longer, but I still think these guys deserve a viral on youtube. Check out 1 minute 14 seconds of AWESOME.
Two Years
On August 1st, Keith and I will have been joined at the hip for two years. It’s hard for me to believe. It’s been the quickest two years of my life.
Being as how I wrote about it in length last August, I’ll just reiterate the fact that I’m happy beyond words and leave it at that. If you have any desire to hear me gush on about it, you can read last year’s post.
I just bought his anniversary present today. Wish I could say what it is in this post – but on the off-chance of him reading this, I’d be screwed (I’ll be sure to fill ya in later). I hope he likes it.
It really is the little things in life that count. Like being together and making memories. Experiencing the overwhelming feeling of complete love and trust. Just being happy. Actually, I consider being happy a huge thing…
Spickets
Houston, we have a problem.
©arkadiapest.com
Lions and Tigers and Jumping Spiders, OH MY
We have spickets in the house. What’s a spicket, you ask? A spicket is a horribly gianormous mutation that obviously occurred during the time a spider was holding a cricket captive and decided the cricket looked, uh, nice that day. It resembles a wolf spider, has two extra long antennae, a lengthy tail, and possesses the ability to jump higher than a cricket. Like straight up. At face-level. Seriously. I have also learned they do so purposely as an intimidation tactic.
This bug is actually trying to scare me. It THINKS. It’s the kind of stuff my nightmares are made of.
Early this morning, Keith finally got to hear what his girlfriend sounds like when she screams. Loudly. It wasn’t pretty.
From what I’ve read, nobody likes them (everybody hates them, I think I’ll eat a worm… fat ones, skinny ones, even little bitty ones – see how they wiggle and squirm…)
They’re fast. Like Edward Cullen fast. I assume this is because (yes, I know what assuming does) they realize just how bad they look. I’d be willing to bet these babies would turn to stone just by seeing their reflection in a mirror.
JUST. NASTY.
I made a new Kill this morning, the second one within 24 hours. This morning’s Kill was about the size of a silver dollar. A bug should not be the size of a silver dollar. It’s just not natural. If you are able to catch up to one, it’s a gross Kill since they’re quite meaty – their upper thighs resemble those of a bodybuilder.
Afterwards I went into the bedroom where Keith was sitting straight up in bed. At this point I wouldn’t have been more surprised if his head had spun around in Linda Blair fashion. “We’ve got jumping spiders” I said. “We can’t do this. We just can’t.” (Note the “We”, as in Us, as in No Us if They stay.) Of course I didn’t come right out and say that it was either me or the spickets – I think I made a point without saying anything like that. “I’ll stop on the way home and get some stuff” he said. I locked eyes with him and held the glare for what seemed like 60 seconds but was probably only about 10. I really do think he understood me, he’s just good like that.
He also kept any witty comments he might’ve had about my sheet-white face locked up tight in his little bag of tricks. To be pulled out at a more opportune time, I’m sure. Like maybe at the next family reunion.
Enter Google. Old faithful, trusty, reliable Google. I heart Google.
Results = Camel Cricket or Cave Cricket, they’re one in the same. Oh good! So now I can replace the slang name ‘jumping spiders’ I’ve given them all my life with better terminology. Cave cricket – let’s see, what else lives in a cave? Bats. Spiders. Snakes. Bears. Monsters. The Unknown. Any insect that lives in a cave, well who the heck knows what they do in the dark? I also read they are people-intimidators. YA THINK?
http://www.asktheexterminator.com/Crickets/Cave_Crickets.shtml
Life of Bon 
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