Today’s date with my daughter at the farmers market was to start bright and early at 8 am, per her request. The little darling overslept, leaving me there to people-watch for over an hour which is a bad move. I’ve since decided ‘opening time’ at the farmer’s market isn’t necessarily the best time for yours truly to arrive. Why? Because this is when all the skinny little vegan people are scurrying about, looking desperately hungry, frail and cold. It’s not hard for me to spot ’em – their beady little accusing eyes attempting to size me up tends to give me the creeps. The women’s ponytails are pulled so tight it could actually serve as a breast-lift. Instead of one canvas tote, they’re carrying three or four – still requiring a dump of the first load in their car before going back in for another round. With stern expressions, they complete their mission like a well-oiled machine. Truth is, I guess I’m more of the I’m hungover, slept ’til noon and decided to come out in my pajamas® type. Sue me.
So that’s my observation on spotting a vegan. I also learned something today from babygirl – it appears I’ve mispronounced ‘vegan’ all my life (for the short time I’ve known what they were, anyway). Apparently the correct pronunciation is vee’-gan, with a long e and hard g. I like my own pronunciation better, which is ve’-jan, with a short e and soft g. This just makes more sense to me – it sounds short for vegetable, which is what they eat, right? Vee’-gan sounds too much like a monster or witch or something. So I think I’ll keep saying ve’-jan.
I’m just having a little fun here, so if you’re one of ‘them’
I’m sure I hope you don’t resemble the vast stereotype I witnessed today. Word… I just might have joined forces with you if I didn’t enjoy my meat so [very very] much. Then again, I could never give up that extra-heavy leather coat I got for Christmas that still permeates an entire room with the most pungently aromatic leather smell everrrrr. Pure Heaven, I tell you.
Off to cook my chicken. And zucchini. And squash. And corn. Did I mention I’m having chicken?
Right before bedtime last night, I found out another friend of mine had gotten engaged. I’m uber-happy for her because, well, because she’s a wonderful person and she deserves it. She has three years invested with this man, and they both know full well what they’re getting into. Isn’t her ring absolutely gorgeous??
Which got me thinking (uh-oh). Three years. That’s almost how long I have invested. Don’t worry, I’m not going there again. Oops… guess I just did.
That dreaded Kenny Rogers song has been ringing in my head all morning, so I thought I’d do you all a favor and put it in your heads too.
“You gotta know when to hold ’em… know when to fold ’em… know when to walk away, and know when to run. You never count your money… when you’re sittin’ at the table – they’ll be time enough for countin’… when the dealin’s done.”
I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve looked forward to today for a long time. Alright, for maybe a week or so. Superbowl, you may ask? Absolutely. Well, what it stands for anyway. I have to admit, I couldn’t care less about the actual game (if our Panthers ever go again, I’m sure that’ll change). To me, Superbowl Sunday is about everything that goes along ‘with it’.
Commercials. All those funny commercials that when asked about on Monday I can never remember (clears throat). Lazing around my jammies all day long with a nice hot fire blazing. The musical acts – I could take or leave Madonna, but I simply can’t wait for Blake and Miranda’s duet of ‘God Bless America’. Never to be last on the list… my chili.
Oh, chili – let me count the ways I love you. I cherish each and every ingredient that goes into making a love-filled batch. You see, I couldn’t use these ingredients in my old life because it wasn’t permitted. Now that the rules are out the window so to speak, consider it no holds barred. It’s not just meat, beans and a seasoning packet anymore, baby (meh). How ’bout starting out with some kickin’ seasoned ground beef, 2 different kinds of beans, couple cans of seasoned diced tomatoes, diced garlic, onion, habanero and bell pepper, hot Rotel, hot chili powder, and towards the end of it’s cooking life, a
nice little half-bottle of cayenne pepper? Hey, if this sounds bland to you I’m always open to suggestions. Being that I’ve had chili-making policies to follow all of my adult life, you could say I’m a ‘chili rookie’ of sorts. Oh, and mustn’t forget the sour cream, grated cheese and jalapenos upon serving time. And the ‘Tostitos with a hint of jalapeno’. And the cornbread. And the Hawaiian rolls. Oh and pay no attention to the wine in the background. It’s, um… just for looks.
Prior to the main course, we’ll have Queso for an appetizer. How I do love that Velveeta and HOT Rotel. Have I mentioned I like it hot?
Happy Game Day to those of you who watch – I hope you enjoy it in your own special and memorable way!
Ever throw a hint that doesn’t get picked up on? Maybe you’re sure that it’s a strong enough one to be recognized but it gets averted anyway, or worse – avoided. Not a good feeling. Can even be frustrating, especially if the hint’s been thrown out on a semi-annual basis for any length of time.
Hinting about a want, desire, or issue of importance in your life can be mentally draining when the hint goes unacknowledged. I understand it’s sometimes better to come right out and say what it is you want – but for me that key word is sometimes. The problem I have with this is, depending on the subject matter, there are wants/needs I just don’t believe I should have to suggest or hint for. It’s just the way I feel, the way I was brought up, the way… well, let’s just say I don’t want to repeat any past mistakes. That’d be kind of stupid.
Mama always said, stupid is as stupid does.
Setting Stages is a very close friend of hinting, and they often show up at the same event together. I’ve set some pretty cool stages myself, if I may say so – like Biltmore House and the beach. Is it right? Wrong? Hell, I don’t know. I just know I could do it, so I did. There’s this little thing you’ve gotta remember about setting stages, though. If your expectations are too high, you’ll end up setting your own self up for disappointment. Which sucks.
Throwing out an effective hint can be tricky. It needs to be thought out carefully beforehand, because the last thing you want is for the hint-recipient to feel pressured or bad in any way. You need to make sure whatever it is you’re hinting for isn’t too far-fetched or ‘out of reason’. If repeated hints never get addressed or acknowledged, the time will come when you must accept the fact that it’s probably something the other person doesn’t want.
Some things are meant to be… while others aren’t. And I’m pooped.
How do I start this, I sit here and wonder to myself. Do I even want to write about it at all? Not really. Do I need to? Probably. Problem is, my fingers don’t want to do the talking either. What the hell am I afraid of writing? Hello out there… brain to fingers – get to moving, babies. I need to get this out.
More ‘stuff’ over at the old house to go sort through. When my ex contacted me about it last week, I thought there was maybe just a bag or two to pick up. It was this time about four years ago when we were busy ‘splitting’ stuff. We stayed busy ‘splitting’ for months on end – after all, you do tend to accumulate a shitload throughout twenty-one years. So we split, split and split some more. When the emotions would get too high, we’d quit and start up again the next day, splitting again. I remember the pictures were the hardest – boxes and boxes of them.
I thought everything had been done. Nope… there’s more. Let’s go take care of it – it’s Goodwill or bust, ya know.
I’ve only had to go back over to the house a handful of times during the last several years. I don’t like driving through the neighborhood. I don’t like going down the street. I do NOT WANT to go in the house, as my daughter insisted on today “Mom, Dad knows you’re gonna be here to go through this stuff – I told him and he’s okay with it.” And so I commenced inside, where neatly stacked in her old room was a good-sized pile that came from the attic. Old baby clothes, stuffed animals, my old knitting materials, some outdated clothes, a few things that belonged to my grandmother, some of my old toys as a kid, all the missing Halloween decorations, and cards. If I failed to mention it before, I do not like going through cards.
Just when I think I’m a step ahead of the game, a day like today comes and knocks me back down a notch. Reminds me that I might not be as strong as I think I am. Was. Whatever. I must swallow the fact that I will forever have these demons, I’ve just realized they aren’t going to go away. What is it? No matter, for what’s done is done. My biggest demon? Failure. Still haven’t moved past that effing failure thing.
Through the years, I’ve learned a neat little trick. I can usually disguise the funk with a smile – on a good day, maybe even season it up with my boisterous laughter. It’s a trick my Mammaw taught me, albeit unconsciously. Ordinarily, it works. Until I’m alone. But that’s what matters, right? It’s just enough to get ya through a tight spot, when someone might be looking. Alone… well, you’re just that. On your own.
I guess the passage of time really isn’t all that when it comes to healing, or growing, or progressing, or whatever it is they say you do. I realize there are good days and bad, for all of us. As for me, I’m just thankful for that huge smile I was born with.
When I was a kid, my Mom used to point out the sand on the side of the road to indicate we were getting close to the beach. I must’ve worn the question “Mommy, how much longer ’til we’re there?” into the ground. She finally found a way to divert my attention from that irritating question every
ten minute s – to pay attention for my own self to my own surroundings. Another great lesson in life by a great Mom.
Now when I’m on the way to the beach, I still pay attention to how the red dirt slowly evolves into beautiful white sand. Except now, I also appreciate the beauty of it. It serves two purposes.
Sometimes it takes patience while you’re waiting on the dirt to evolve into white sand. As my dear uncle used to say, ‘such is life’.
Ever felt like you’ve bonded with an animal of the wild? I tend to bond with many of the seagulls, at least I like to think so. This little girl seemed ever-accommodating – a trait I see as both admirable and disturbing. I named her Bon.
Once again, a New Year is upon us. Time for me to choose a new header/banner, for the year 2012. Just as I choose a single word that best describes the prior year that passed, I also pick a new banner to use for the coming year. I enjoy reflecting back on the prior years’ words and banners, specifically for their powerful meaning to me.
In 2008 I wasn’t blogging yet, so no banner – but my word for that year was Monumental.
It’s not by accident that my first banner below included so many mountains.
My word of 2009 was Colorful.
The next piece below is made up of five of my most favorite things.
My word of 2010 was Serene.
The below shot is a panoram I took while staying at the beach last New Years.
My new word for 2011… drum roll please…
My word of 2011 is Transitional.
It was hard to find a word for 2011. When I finally ran across transitional, I knew I didn’t need to look any further.
I’m finding the end of 2011 to be this huge reflection pool, of this year as well as years prior. In late Spring I moved from my humble abode of three years, the place where I started my new life in 2008. It took some adapting to learn to live with someone again, since Keith and I had both been living alone for so long.
It didn’t take long at all. Where I live now is home in every sense of the word. Hard to explain, except that I feel like I’ve always lived there. Whenever Keith and I are together, everything just seems so easy. Of course life will always have it’s trials and tribulations – but it just seems easy. If that makes any sense.
So on to a brand new year. Nearly four years later, I can finally breathe that long-awaited sigh and say… this butterfly has completed her journey. And what a journey it’s been.
- My one and only child, my daughter, is amazing. I have absolutely no doubt she was heaven-sent. She’s smart, beautiful, kind and God-fearing – and she loves me as much as I love her. Well… almost. 🙂
- My mother and my father are alive and well, and are each amazing in their own right. Our individual relationships are more precious and meaningful than I’ll ever be able to convey in words.
- I’m fortunate enough to have found an honest, genuine, beautiful man who possesses the rare ability to love me unconditionally (and I love him more). His awesome family members are added gems.
- A warm, comfortable, quiet house to come home to every day is my refuge, my peace, my tranquility.
- My job affords me the ability to live. It’s a good job with good people at a reputable company – something I’ll never take for granted.
- I own the most reliable vehicle in the history of reliable vehicles. I really do have the ‘little engine that could’. My little sedan has proven herself for many years now and still performs like a champ.
- As of current I have no known debilitating disease or other affliction that would affect my daily life. I say this while I watch so many around me suffer – including children.
- I count the small circle of genuine friends I have as part of my life’s riches. Because true friends are indeed a treasure.
- I’ve never gone hungry. We always always have more food than we need.
- My little furbaby Camille has brought more joy to my life than I could ever repay her with. It astounds me just how much love God has bestowed into these little hearts.
- Never will I take my individual freedom to come and go and do as I want for granted. As a law-abiding citizen, I may travel at whim and make my own decisions – all benefits of free will.
- My most beloved blessing… the most glorious gift from God for anyone who is willing to accept it – the promise of eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Let’s talk about preparedness for a natural disaster or catastrophic event. One thing’s for sure – if we lose power for any length of time this winter, the one thing we won’t do is freeze. I’ve nicknamed us the Lumberjack Adams household.
It all began this past summer when my mother and her husband were forced into taking two trees down – one in the front and one in the back. Keith has worked his cute behind off in order to split it all and get it back to the house. If it weren’t for a neighbor that allowed him use of their splitter it wouldn’t have been possible – these trees were huge. Last but not least, my mother’s husband lent his brut strength and use of his truck along with Keiths. I lost count on the number of truckloads it took to get it all here.
It got me thinking about the early days and how much work the pioneers had to put into gathering their wood for the long winter. They must have been gathering and chopping all through the summer just to prepare.
We figure it’ll last us all winter and then some. We’ll also burn some in the fire pit in the back yard, that is until it gets too cold outside!
Our neighbor across the street is a ‘wood hog’ – by this I mean he will do almost anything to get a load of wood. They actually heat all winter with a central wood-burning stove – a very energy-efficient choice. When the tornado ripped through our neighborhood this spring, he was out bargaining for all the neighbors’ wood from the downed trees. He’s even been caught at residences with downed trees, pilfering the wood without asking while the owners were gone! Years ago, he actually did it to Keith one time while he was out of town working. From what I was told, he’ll not ever attempt that little maneuver again.
Where was I going with this? Oh yeah… when the final truckload of our wood got here, this man came over to admire. He told us (with glowing green eyes) we have more wood than he does! That’s really saying alot and I still don’t know if I believe it…
I love fires in the winter. Bring on that lotion… 🙂
This morning as I sat in front of my computer, my trusty sidekick hung out with me.
I caught her snuggling with Mr. Frog (the first stuffed animal Keith ever gave me).
For once, I happened to have the camera right beside me.
A few minutes later, she gave her customary ‘hummpphh’ from her table beside the computer desk. Knowing my little girl so well, I immediately took note it was more than a ‘hey mommy, over here!!’ grunt. It was obvious she was planning a desk-launch, and she wanted clearance to do so.
And so the stance was taken.
“No, Camille.” Hunched forward again in pounce mode. (A little firmer now) “Camille – NO.”
She then backed off completely with one exception – her little left paw was left suspended
and quivering in mid-air.
And it hung.
And hung. And quivered.
“Aren’t I cuuuuute, Mommy?
Let me squint my eyes at you to let you know how much I love you Mommy and,
and, and… you are getting very sleepy, Mommy…”
“sooooo, now could be my chance – lemme slide in a little looksie at two o’clock…”
She shoots – she scores.
After digging her out from the wires on back of computer (oh how I hate that)
comes the dreaded walk of shame.
“Whatta you mean I gotta get back on the bore-table?! All that work for nuttin’??
Oh I’m pissed. No, I won’t look at you. No. I’m so…”
“…pissed, I tell you. Errr, what… a close-up you say?
Well – okay, gotta look my best for dem close-ups. Cheese!!”
Daylight savings time has always been my preference if given the choice. It just feels right – at least most of the time. Now though, it seems right to make the change back. I’m feeling the need to hibernate, while adorning my feet with not one but two pairs of socks. After 43 years I guess I’ve finally grown accustomed to the bi-annual change of time.
Recently I learned that two of my ex-bf’s are engaged. This doesn’t bother me, it’s just kind of weird in a way. I can only describe it like this – it’s like I’m watching life go on around me from inside of a bubble. I know that probably makes little sense to anyone who’s reading.
I get along well with my ex-husband, probably much better than the majority of the divorced population. I won’t say we talk often, but when we do it’s always pleasant and long enough to catch up with meaningful events in his, mine and our daughter’s life. During a conversation this past summer, he confided that he missed being married and he’d like to be married again one day. I totally understood where that came from because I feel the same way. We went on to agree that it’s a ‘state of mind’ comfort that just never leaves you. He’s had a wonderful lady in his life for years now, as I’ve had a wonderful man in mine. It’s something I never forget to thank my dear Lord for every day.
A few weeks ago, I had a conversation along the same lines with a coworker. Like me, he also came out of a long-term marriage and now he has a special lady in his life. We both agreed that we don’t feel that the word boyfriend or girlfriend is taken very seriously, for whatever reason. It was funny to learn we had the same view on this. I’ve always appreciated a male perspective, especially on issues like these.
Hope everyone has a fantastic weekend, and enjoy your extra hour! Don’t go and spend it all in one place. 😀
Oh hai, November. You could’ve taken your time, you know – no need to have rushed on my account. Since you’re here now, I’ve been reminded of a few important things.
The last bit of summer I’ve held onto all this time really is gone. Maybe it’s time to finally pick up the pair of flip-flops still sitting by the door and replace them with a pair of warm snuggly bedroom slippers. For just a little while.
You’ve brought along with you a stopwatch. Know that I really really dislike stopwatches. As of today, it’s a mere 53 days until Christmas and 61 days until the New Year of 2012. Our annual New Years beach vacation will, however, be something well worth counting down to.
You usher in the early sunset nights and dinners, where blazing fires abide the fireplace and more movies are watched on television. So be it.
Through it all, you remind me of the most important factor to me – the fact that from the start of coldness and still life will eventually come rebirth. In a short 4 1/2-5 months, a lush spring will once again be reborn.
So it’s finally become real to me that you’ve laid Spring and Summer down to rest for a few months, November. Give them a kiss for me and tell them I miss them. Oh, and how ’bout being a little easy on that stopwatch for the next couple of months?
My solemn vow to never get attached to another reality show = major fail. Oh, how I do love me some Gene Simmons Family Jewels.
I was shocked to learn the show’s been around since 2007. Where the heck have I been?! Honestly, if I’d seen it back then I don’t know if it would’ve held my interest or not. But now… most definitely. It’s a show for all ages – I even know of a 70+ year-young person who enjoys it.
If you’ve never seen it, on the outside it may look silly. On the inside, it’s about a real family with real-life issues. Gene Simmons and Shannon Tweed started out about 28 years ago – back in the days of Playboy Playmates, the Rock & Roll heyday and Kiss tours. Today, they have two terrific kids – Nick, 22 and Sophie, 19. It’s totally unlike me to immediately fall in love with a set of kids like I did with them. They’re both talented, seem wise beyond their years, and bring some very intellectual conversation to the show. Add to that the fact that the whole family is hilarious… and I’m totally buying into it.
Gene and Shannon had 27 years of domestic partnership under their belt but had never married. I’m not the type to bash marriage or lack thereof in this case, because I feel marriage is a personal preference left up to each individual partner. I realize everyone’s preferences are different, and I respect that.
Last night was the episode of their wedding. It was, of course, gorgeous. I also like seeing what all money can buy. Whooo, baby… made my head spin.
There’s something bigger that’s held my interest. Made public on the show were the marital indiscretions that Gene had, and there were many episodes that addressed how the family as a whole dealt with this. Shannon’s pain and the shame of it being made public, how it directly affected their kids, all the work it took as a family through many counseling sessions that were in public view for all of America to see. To me, this is reality TV.
I have an entirely different respect for Gene now. Why? Because he truly manned up. Will Shannon ever be able to forget the past? Of course not. Can she forgive? Absolutely and wholeheartedly, and she finally has. How? Because from the very beginning, Gene took responsibility for his actions. There was much to be worked out in therapy, but he was always a willing participant. Why? True Love. He would do anything and everything to try and repair the damage that he admittedly caused to her and their family. To Gene, there was never an option of letting her walk away and not fighting to keep her. To him, she was well worth the fight of his life to keep.
And, he won. Actually… they all did. 🙂
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?
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.
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.
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).’
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…
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.
Learning about new structural masterpieces never cease to amaze and intrigue me. I’ve written about the Burj Dubai, the Grand Canyon Skywalk and the Swiss AlspiX – I really enjoy writing about these ‘wonders’ because a) it forces me to learn more about them by exploring the facts, and b) it’s not likely I’ll ever get to visit them in person. I find it ironic that all these places have one thing in common – extreme height. With heights being my main hang-up, it’s probably fair to say it’s the biggest source of my intrigue.
The top SkyPark of Marina Bay Sands Hotel in Singapore made it’s official debut on June 24, 2010. The cantilever is positioned atop three 57-story sloping towers which are connected at level 23, and stretches longer lengthwise than the Eiffel Tower is tall. This structure houses a hotel, casino, restaurants, stores, art gallery, pool, ice skating rink, gardens, and much more all rolled up into one tropical oasis. The top SkyPark can accommodate roughly 3,900 people, and is one of the largest art commissions ever completed as part of an integrated architectural process.
Ah, the marvels of engineering. I’ll let the pictures, courtesy Marina Bay Sands Hotel Singapore, have the final word.
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…
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.
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.
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…