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Busy Weekend

 

Paul and Cody

     My daughter and her fiance arrived yesterday afternoon and we’ve been on the go ever since. I’ll blog more about this later, but right now I’m exhausted. We got up early and did a tour of lovely downtown El Paso, visited the Mercado Flea Market, then went over to Mesilla, New Mexico, for some shopping and delicious Mexican food. Needless to say, I missed my nap and now (at 9:30 PM) I’m so tired I can barely type.

     On the way home we saw about 20-30 hawks in the sky. I tried to take a photo of them, but the truck was moving and I couldn’t zoom out fast enough to really get the scope of how many hawks there were. Look at these things…what the hell is up with hawks lately?

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I didn’t post this photo of Cape Cod to be maudlin or sentimental. I’m just missing it so much today. Buck doesn’t miss the Cape (or Massachusetts) at all, he never has the least bit of interest in hearing or thinking about it. I’m not putting him down for it, that’s just the way he feels and we’re all entitled to our feelings. But my feelings are that I’m really homesick for my kids and the familiarity of everything I know. And I wish I was around all the happy Celtics fans right now, and that I could get the Sox games on TV.

It’s true that the Cape traffic has become a nightmare, the cost of living is out of control, and even the back roads are filling up with houses. But I can’t get it out of my mind. I even miss complaining about all the stuff I just mentioned. The cruelest trick of the mind is that every once in awhile here in El Paso I think I can smell ocean air on the breeze, and it’s like a stab to the heart.

This is our fourth summer here. Will I ever stop feeling like this?

My Idea Of Hell

This is my idea of Hell, an alarm clock that gives you one chance to turn it off and if you don’t…it leaps off your nightstand and starts rolling around your bedroom at lightening speeds until you find it and shut it off. That’s right: you have to chase the fucking thing.

And it’s fast, apparently.

If this sounds like exactly how you want to start your day (and if so, you are completely insane) you can get it at ThinkGeek.com. It’s called Clocky.

Truthfully, if this thing had been around when my kids were in high school I would have bought 3 of them and the first kid to break theirs would have had a punishment that would include painting the entire exterior of the house, accompanying me to my knitting class, and helping me shop for bras at the mall.

Ganked Meme

I got this meme from Joan, who got it from Teeni. I believe it got its named “Ganked Meme” from something to do with Betme’s vocabulary. Yeah, yeah, I’m working, but this was quick and fun so I did it.

Here are the rules:

Step One – pull out a book on the book shelf.

Step Two – go to page 123.

Step Three – read and write out the 5th sentence. (I wrote out a whole paragraph, because I couldn’t resist.)

Step Four – tag 5 more people. (I’m not doing this step ‘cuz I’m scared of incurring anyone’s wrath.)

I grabbed Dark At The Roots, A Memoir by Sarah Thyre. You might know Sarah as the gym teacher on Strangers With Candy (I own the boxed DVD set!), or as Andy Richter’s real-life wife. She’s also a writer and I love her. There, I said it. I love Sarah Thyre.

From Page 123:

I had a bad feeling about this. Why had she told a cashier at the filling station she was pregnant, but none of us in her immediate family? As far as I could tell, Dad hadn’t noticed her bulging stomach. Not surprising since Mom spent most nights on the couch. Sofa.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Mom said. “Your father doesn’t know yet.”

Dad found out pretty soon, and he was not happy.

“Whose is it?” he asked. “Mike?”

Mike was our garbage man. When I heard Dad say that, I got more excited and this whole pregnancy deal. I couldn’t wait for my adorable biracial half-sister. She’s had a creamy Lady Marmalade complexion and a wild, tawny Afro that I could pick out for hours….Right away, I called all the girls in my class to tell them don’t worry: my mother was NOT fat, she was pregnant.

“Thank god, I was beginning to wonder if she’d let herself go,” said Ellen Lacour. “Oops! Gotta run — I just got my period!”

 

Today’s Happy Headlines

I’m still buried in work but I wanted to share with you today’s happy headlines: the heat, the cost of food and fuel, and those bastards the Lakers. Today’s headlines are just awful. As reported, it’s still hot as a bastard. Speaking of which, I recently discovered that tacking “as a bastard” onto the end of just about everything is a New England thing. As in:

“It’s hot as a basdid today.”

“It’s cold as a basdid today.”

“I was sweatin’ like a basdid.”

And the driving related: “Didja see that guy? He was goin’ like a basdid.”

The person who brought this “bastard” business as being a New Englandism to my attention is from El Paso, but he went to college in Boston and he’s well-traveled. So when I said something about it being “hot as a basdid,” he started laughing and said he hadn’t heard that expression in years. Then he told me we’re the only people who use this expression and that we use it for just about everything. I found this amazing.

Well, back to work.

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Working

 

  I’m busy working. Just wanted you to know. Although I’m not in this fish cannery photo above, I feel like I am.

El Paso, 3:20 PM

110-degrees

5% humidity

I ended up re-doing Lily’s Diary in the hopes of getting a better shot. This was the best I could do (my tripod wasn’t cooperating for some unknown and mysterious reason). Lily, by the way, belongs to Little Miss Sew N’ Sew.

 

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