Can a pacifist be an anarchist?

First off, thanks bunches SignGirl! Not making a killing, yet...maybe one day. And yes, my design. It's a shame I don't have a steady hand or I'd be tattooing the hell outta some poor souls willing to part with tons of their hard-earned dollars.

Y'all, I missed my calling. I missed my generation, actually. I was supposed to be a hippy. But the combined kind of hippy, ya know? I would have marched for certain ideals - and definately BURNED MY BRA! - but I'd also have been one of those really cool hippies who smoked pot (which I have been free of for about 2 months, now...don't congratulate me; it was not MY wish) a lot and looked forward to vividly colorful psychedelic trips. I would have worn all natural clothes and probably gone hairy and smelly like so many others did. I would have definately worn flowers in my hair. The hair on my head and maybe even on my legs and pits. To cover the smelly part.

Since I can't actually be a hippy (not cuz of the times, but because of legal ramifications and a responsibility to teach my kids more than just my hatred for "the system"), I can look like one. And I can still preach my opinions and disagree with others who disagree with me (they're wrong, of course, but freedom of speech is one of those things I'd march for). The dressing part is kinda fun, actually. I'm currently working on a psychedelic t-shirt that I'll share pictures of when it's done. Ummm, it's pretty and all, but it's also a bit thought (and perhaps argument-)provoking. You'll see.

The disagreement part, though, is beginning to stir up a little turmoil with a dear friend, though. It's rather disheartening. You see, he thinks "a vote for anyone BUT McCain is a vote for a non-American Muslim" (exact quote from my friend). Personally, I am so discontented with the whole thing, I'm choosing NOT to vote, this year. I believe this will be only the second time I haven't voted during a presidential year since I was old enough to vote. The first time was because we had moved to Michigan and I was not considered a "citizen" of the state, long enough, to vote in that state. Well, it was also a Bush year...

Lately, my friend has taken to sending me daily mass-emails (sometimes several a day) defiling Obama and singing praises of McCain. While he has every right to his own choices, he's beginning to go beyond just stating his opinion; instead, it's beginning to feel like harrassment. When I've asked him about some of my own key concerns regarding McCain (like this ridiculous war that seems neverending), he skirts that question and retorts with remarks about Obama and even other non-partisan candidates. Ummm, yeah, there are others. When I ask how he feels about some of McCain's remarks about "the wealthy", my friend looks at me all doe-eyed and says that [we're all wealthy when we have family and friends who love us...doesn't that mean more than wealthy being defined by how much money one makes?] (paraphrasing, there) He makes a good point, there, but it still doesn't excuse McCain's views on who is "wealthy" and who is middle-class. My friend's latest diatribe began by defending Palin. There are MANY reasons why I dislike Palin, but I've never talked trash about her. Why he feels the need to constantly defend her, in front of me, when I haven't even brought her name into a conversation, speaks volumes to me. Me thinks he doth protest too much.


I know I need to just tell my friend that we're going to have to abstain from any political discussions, lest we destroy a long-time and very dear friendship. I sincerely hope he'll listen and understand that harrassing me about his personal views will only establish a divide that may not be easily mended. At this point, I actually think the only way to get away from all this craziness (politics, in general) is to just move to another country!

Idle Hands are the Devil's Playground

right this minute:
*listening to Suspicious Minds cover by Dwight Yokum. Not a big country fan, but this particular cover is da bomb

"jobs", currently:
*making and selling jewelry at different venues
*helping out, occassionally at the tattoo shop
*helping out with some of the housekeeping duties at my old (1987-1997) workplace, as the guy who usually does it has been MIA for at least 2 weeks. Have I ever mentioned how much I HATE cleaning? But it pays $10/hour...hard to turn down.
*start tax school Monday, 9/8
*trying to treat the newest spider bite that's got me feeling not-so-nifty. Damn venomous spiders! Wonder what this one was. I don't think I want to know, honestly.


Waiting to see what Hannah has in store for us. If I spelled it wrong, then you can see just how interested I am. Just in case, I think I will put some rocks in the bottom of the outside trash bins, move some of the lawn "decor" (that would be the old rusted mowers, yard tools, etc.) under the back porch, borrow a ladder and yank down the medium size limb that's been dangling, helplessly, for several months...maybe move the doghouse to the front yard so Blackie can hide out in her house instead of under the front porch. She's afraid of storms. Maybe I'll just let Hanna have her way with us, though. Philip's always fancied a threesome....HAH!

Tuesday, 9/2, was Big A's 17th birthday. I knoooooowwww!
Saturday, 9/21 is Little A's 15th birthday. She refuses to sign up for driver's ed. She has no desire to drive. WTF?!
Saturday, 9/28 is Philip's 41st birthday. Hopefully, 41 won't do his head in like 40 did.






Anyone heard the new Thriving Ivory tune? It's Angels On The Moon. Think Simply Red combined with Train. If you don't know those bands, then there's no way I could begin to describe this tune. Sad but somehow pleasant. Worth a free download if you can find it free. I don't see myself purchasing the CD, but it's still a nice break from Tool and the new AC/DC (which effin rocks, btw!). New Metallica due in October, too. WooHoo!

What's New Pussycat, whooooaaaa....

So, this is what I've been up to, lately.





The cross one you see there...well...


it kicked me in the ass! About 7 hours, total to do this in 3 parts which included macrame, crochet, hand sewing and lots and lots of weaving! But, I sold that one and have another ready for an order I received.

All those range from $3 to $25. The cross one is the most expensive; the keychains and small tie-ons are the cheapest. Honestly, this is so much fun. Now, if I can just make a living off them. Okay, not quite a living...but contribute enough to NOT have to take the bookkeeping job that Philip's pushing on me. Have I ever mentioned how sick I am of secretarial work?

I've moved to another tattoo shop. The one I was frequenting before got a bit scarey. There were lots of rumors of drug-slinging going on quite regularly. I'm not sure if it's true or not, but I'm not willing to take that chance. I just don't want to be in that sort of environment. IF it's true. I'm sad to say, I think I believe the rumors.

The new shop I've begun to frequent is pretty cool. Still small and laid back, but comfy and friendly. The owner has allowed me to set up a small table to sell my jewelry. Ironically, he's bought the most. He loves the funky ones with handcuffs and stuff like that. He recently asked for something that I couldn't find, locally, so I ordered a couple of charms/medallions/whatever you'd call them, online. I started a few strands, suitable for both of them and let him choose. He chose the most expensive of the two charms without me even telling him which was which. Of course, he got the necklace for the cost of the charm + $2. I forgot to take a picture, unfortunately, but suffice it to say, it was kick-ass. Sterling crossed swords with skulls etched in the handles. I may have to order from that place again. Their prices are good and the charms are all sterling and guaranteed for 10 years.

So, that's what's up. I spend most days working on new pieces or hunting for cool beads, shells, charms and such. Now, I just have to start selling more. I spend Friday and Saturday afternoon and evenings there. I like it, I like the people, they seem to like me...and I get tattoos at a discount. Oh, yeah...I just got a new one (no photo yet). I got a large feather on the top of my foot. YES, it was painful as hell. After it was all done, I thought I'd stepped in a yellow-jacket's nest. A couple of days later, though, I was ready for more. Well, when I can afford another one ;)

LsOA

And so I've been on a sort of mini-leave of absent. It would seem that many others are doing the same. Some have even threatened to leave for good. As such the blogger world goes. I miss you guys.

I'm working diligently to promote my current line of jewelry and a few other irons are in the fire. The girls are out of school for the summer and gas has exceeded $4.00/gallon. This means that the three of us are cooped up quite regularly, during the week. Of course, that means that we must each escape to our perspective bedrooms, on occassion, in order to keep a harmonious balance within the walls. Mama and Daddy have their beach house all dolled up, now; although my mother will never consider it truly completed. There will be many shopping ventures, flea market and yard sale hunts, classified scannings for bargains...all for junk that she probably will never need, but will always find too tempting to resist. As much as they keep pestering us to come stay a weekend, even with their insistence that we need no other money than for gasoline, we simply can't afford the $200+it would take to drive there and back and all the jaunts in between. As my mother cries money woes of her own, I do believe she "doth protest too much".

I'm on grandmother watch, this week. Sharing the duty equally with one of my aunties. Grandma is recently home from yet another week+ stay at the hospital. While each time, I look at her sunken eyes and pale complexion and believe it may be her last, she fights back in that stubborn way of hers. She tries to laugh and cut up with us; all the while, feeling miserable from all the aches and pains of old age and the almost unbearable discomfort of the end stages of congestive heart failure. My grandmother, however, is what us southern folks would call a catbird. Despite the many definitions available at any of the search engines, a catbird (at least in the south) is someone who is tenacious, determined, somewhat stubborn and very humorous in his or her actions when defending an opinion. Or something like that. "My uncle was quite the catbird in his older age, as he could convince you the sky was green and the trees were blue with a gleam in his eye and a snicker to follow." Each night, I dreadfully anticipate a call from Auntie or a kind healthcare worker, letting me know that it's time. Yet, each morning, I awake to find she is still alive and doing fine. And so, for her, I dedicate this little ditty to her own tenacity, determination and open-mindedness:

And the sign says "long hair freaky people need not apply"
So I put my hair under my hat and I went in to ask him why
He said you look like a fine outstanding young man I think you'll do
So I took off my hat I said "Imagine that Huh Me working for you"

Signs Signs
Everywhere there's signs
Fucking up the scenery
Breaking my mind
Do this, don't do that
Can't you read the sign

And the sign says "Anybody caught trespassing will be shot on sight"
So I jumped the fence and I yelled at the house, Hey! What gives you the right
To put up a fence And keep me out Or to keep Mother Nature in
If God was here He'd tell it to your face Man You're some kind of sinner

Signs Signs
Everywhere there's signs
Fucking up the scenery
Breaking my mind
Do this, don't do that
Can't you read the sign

Oh Say now mister Can't you read
You got to have a shirt and tie to get a seat
You can't watch No You can't eat You ain't supposed to be here

And the sign says "You got to have a membership card to get inside" Huh

And the sign says "Everybody welcome Come in Kneel down and pray"
But then they passed around a plate at the end of it all
And I didn't have a penny to pay
So I got me a pen and paper And I made up my own fucking sign
I said Thank you Lord for thinking about me I'm alive and doing fine

Signs Signs
Everywhere there's signs
Fucking up the scenery
Breaking my mind
Do this, don't do that
Can't you read the sign

Signs Signs
Everywhere there's signs
Fucking up the scenery
Breaking my mind
Do this, don't do that
Can't you read the sign
(Signs, by Tesla; originally recorded by Five Man Electrical Band - lyrically incorrect but close enough)

Hot Child In The City

Nope. Not this time.
Little A was invited to go to New York with her best friend and, apparantly, the coolest dad in the world. Yeah, M's dad spoils M to no end. It's beyond ridiculous. After Philip and I thought about it a bit, we were really stuck in that limbo of "it would be a great experience"/"she'll be gone 2 weeks without us or Big A for comfort if something goes wrong"...and more. Thank goodness Little A solved the dilemma. She's decided she doesn't want to be away from home for 2 whole weeks.

Big A is out tonight for her first real "test" of curfew. Philip will probably be really pissed at me for setting curfew at midnight, rather than 11pm. She's going to a cookout where most of her closest friends will be. There will be parental supervision - no drinking, drugs, sex, etc. - the whole evening. The mom is a bit miffed at Big A for a minor (okay, MAJOR) incident, last year, so the mom will probably be watching her like a hawk, anyway. This "test" is the first time where Big A is required to be home on time, no exceptions. Well, car accident (God forbid!) or car trouble (better frickin not be as it's MY car!) would be the only exceptions. I hope the evening goes without incident.

I would have pictures of the beach to show you, except all those pics were taken with Little A's camera and guess where her camera is? With her, of course. She'll be home from her friend's (this is a pre-New York visit) sometime tomorrow. I better get a frickin camera for my birthday or Christmas, this year! I'm losing it, I tell ya. You know I love[d my camera] more than my luggage! (guess that reference and I'll put a special link for you in my next post) For now, I'll tease you with some (stolen) shots of some of the shopping spots we hit...for the whole 2 hours we got to shop:

Remember Rose's? Morehead City still has one! I ended up there trying to find a t-shirt to replace the one that got ruined on our trip over (whole new story in its own...I won't bore you with that one) because I was too cheap to pay $20 for another Atlantic Beach, NC t-shirt. I think I have a dozen between myself and Philip's stash of t's.





Yeah, we had to go to Wally World for a few necessities we forgot to pack - like shampoo. Why doesn't my mother have shampoo in the second bathroom, yet?!

Speaking of...their place is up and running. The porches & decks are on and it really is pretty. She's still puttering around, decorating this that and the other. Knowing Mama, she'll never get it "just so". That's cool, though. I'll have to remember to tell you guys about the conversation we had with my dad about inviting company...it's a doozy. I'll have to do that one day when I'm not still pissed at his inuendos.

I'm off to find a display case, as I've got about 20 - 25 pieces I'm ready to showcase!

There's Something in the Air

Last Thursday, I went back to Body Ink to have Troy work on my tattoo, some more. He got the clouds and tree roots, dotted the larger Birdie's eye, but never colored in the moon. That whole night was a pain in the ass - Troy was rapidly becoming stoned on the morphine the dentist gave him after doctoring a dry socket - but it ended up being worthwhile...at least the next day.


I've been making more jewelry. LOTS more jewelry.



And it seems to appeal to the crowd over there. You know, hemp & hippy stuff, with the occassional "bling" added in for good measure. The men tend to like the fancy crosses and the ladies tend to like the pretty hematite beads interwoven. Oddly enough, more women looked at the dragon charmed chokers than men (not pictured... remember, my camera is broken so I have borrow from the girls when "allowed"), and more men liked the anklets with seashells - they wear them as bracelets.

My point...I rambled...the owner of Body Ink liked my jewelry so much, he allowed me to set up a little table outside the shop, Saturday night. They were very slow, which meant I was slow, but there was a lot of interest. Especially the shop owner. He has offered to put some of my jewelry in his Haw River shop AND his Mebane shop! Ummm, if I get a display case. I'm looking for something appropriate: not too small, not too large, cheap as dirt. This is very exciting for me. Imagine making money doing something you enjoy so much! Okay, I know some of you do that, already. This is just something that finally is right up my alley. As soon as I get a few dozen more pieces done and find an appropriate display case.

We're heading to the beach in about 7 hours to help Mama and Daddy get the rest of their stuff moved into their new place. I'm told the porches and decks are up. Unfortunately, Philip, Big A and I will only stay Friday night and come back Saturday evening. Philip's dad has invited his sons to breakfast for a big Father's Day thing. It's become a tradition and I think it's pretty cool. Philip was going to beg off so we could stay an extra day at the beach, but he decided he'd like to have breakfast with his Pop. I'm glad he is going. While I'll be disappointed that I won't get to spend any real time at the beach (we'll be moving furniture and such all day Friday and maybe some on Saturday), I'd walk water for Philip to get to be with his Dad on Sunday. That's sort of my Father's day gift to Philip...not bitching about a quicky-trip so he can spend what may be the last Father's day with his dad. Pop's aneurysm has suddenly gone from 4mm to 6mm. At this stage, it's inoperable, so we're back to watching the clock with my father-in-law.

Big A is dating Jacob, again. He was the one we liked. I'm thrilled. Seriously. Jacob has goals and ambition. He's started on his way towards a life-plan and has sworn to not let anything get in his way.

Today, he called when he knew Big A wasn't home. Yeah, I know it's weird how all the girls' friends are with me, but it works out well. Jacob asked me to be completely honest with him about something. "Have I ever been anything less than honest with you?" He laughed and said that I had not. He then asked how I would feel about the two of them dating again. So, I answered honestly. I told him that it would tickle me to pieces, but I wanted him to be prepared. "Prepared for what?" Well, prepared for the possibility of her breaking his heart again, that's what. She's 16 and is about to go into her senior year of high school. This age and the senior strut can reek havoc on a young girl's social life. He was just so damn adorable when I told him this. His response? "You mean you care that much about me that you would warn me about your own daughter?" Of course I do, but what I said was more a warning to him of what may come - just because - than an "I care this much about you" type thing. I can't really explain that part, but yes, I care, all the same. He began to promise me that he would never break her heart, yada yada yada, but I told him those were promises that he shouldn't make. There are no guarantees at this age and boys will be boys and girls will be girls. I also reminded him that he needn't make promises like that to me, as their relationship had nothing to do with me and everything to do with them. But, deep down, I'm very happy that they are back together. Whatever happens between the two of them, Jacob is truly like family to us and we all enjoy having him around. There's aldo this little thing about his mom being a phsych bitch from hell and I think Jacob needs to experience a more stable family - dysfunctional as hell, maybe, but stable and loving - every chance he gets. If that sounds vain, so be it. I only speak what I truly feel.

This turned out a lot longer than intended. I also had every intention of going in and editing my grammar and spelling, adding appropriate italics and boldface where necessary, summarizing a bit better and so on. Alas, my sleepy eyes won't allow this, so this post stays as is. Besides, I have to get my sorry ass out of bed at something like 7am...less than 5 hours.

Friends, Family, Fun

So much going on in everyone’s lives.

I notice that Lady K is taking an extended LOA, possibly. C’mon! What am I gonna do without your blog? I know, maybe if I post some of my own sky pictures,

you’ll follow suit. Ehem…I love you, Toots. I really do! Oh, and it doesn’t cost me much to call you…so expect a call sometime in the next several days ;)

To Yorkshire Pudding: my condolences to Shirley and all the family. I won’t dare do the old, “it may have been for the best…” routine, as a loss of one’s parent is a tragic loss, no matter the circumstances. My thoughts are with you all.

I see that Corky had a nasty accident in WV. I’m glad you are all okay. I have to say to you, while West Virginia may border on Podunk and we often see why the toothbrush was invented there, you will honestly never meet a nicer brood of people. Philip and I broke down in some tiny town just outside of Ripley, WV, when we were moving back from Michigan. We literally found the town mechanic at a little Main Street diner – just where the ladies at the hospitality center told us he would be – and he bought our lunch AND met us at his garage, on a Sunday, and helped us get settled into a little motel (where he sweet-talked the owner into letting us bring our dog in) until he could get the necessary parts the following day to get us on our way. You were lucky you weren’t in Tennessee, Ohio – or even worse, Michigan! Sorry to all my Northern pals in those areas, but I think you know where I’m coming from.

Rat, still enjoying your lovely photos. I could SO go lesbian for some of those boobie-shots! At the very least, a threesome wouldn’t be out of the picture. Oh shit! Did I say that out loud?

Jenn, I am SOOOO proud of you and all that you’ve accomplished. While I don’t reply to many folks much, anymore, I still read most blogs as much as I can. You are truly my hero and my inspiration to keep on working towards my own personal goals.

Bradley, Darling, I’m dropping a new brush in the mail for you, soon. My vet recommends this type of wire brush for our extra-furry friends, as it tends to minimize the knots and is supposedly not as painful as some of the other available fuzzbuster schemes on the market, today.

Brian and Diane, I think of you two, often. I hope you are both well. I loved Real Magic so much, I’m reading it for a second time, now! I also use my special bookmark in every book I read. I’ve even quit folding the pages in my paperbacks, just so I have an excuse to use the bookmark!

My sweet Saint of a pal, Alkelda, you have no idea how many times I’ve been tempted to email you for thoughts on an idea I have for a children’s book of my own. I wrote it more than 12 years ago and keep stalling, trying to decide what to do with it. Alas, it sits in a dirty 3-ring binder, gathering dust and needing a MAJOR edit. One of these days…. At the very least, one of these days, I may just email it to you and if you like it at all, you can share it during story-time with all the cuties you often read to. Heck, if I try hard enough, I might even come up with some cute finger-puppets to go along. Every single time I see an adorable little brunette child, carefully pondering a flower or garden gnome, I think of your precious little Lucia. I’d also give my eye teeth to get you over my way to help me transplant some not-yet-dead plants from my original garden over to the mini-garden of shrubs and plants that I brought from my grandmother’s garden. Be it from Heaven or some other special realm, she seems to be blessing these transplants and making them grow beyond my wildest dreams. One day, I’ll take some real photos of “her” handywork to share. I wholeheartedly believe that, between her hands and the lucious (but smelly) quail and garbage compost we planted with, these plants are a gift that I could never reproduce without some sort of divine intervention. Or something like that ;)

I notice that Pissy is getting burnt out on the exercise. Oh yeah, I can relate! Except now, I’m trying to convince Philip to “lease-to-own” (or at least borrow) a pal’s coatrack…I mean, treadmill he never uses AND to put a tv in the living room. He’s been considering purchasing an HDTV (it’s about freakin’ time!) for the den, so moving the behemoth of a 36” analog (that will, most likely, be sent to the black-screen-of-death-junkyard, sometime soon) into the living room isn’t a bad trade-off, anyway. It’s time! Besides, his blood pressure and cholesterol aren’t getting better and my waist, hips and thighs aren’t getting any smaller, so a treadmill with a pleasant distraction sounds just nifty to me.

We never use the formal room; and to be honest, it does nothing but collect dust and junk; so who cares if it’s got 2 computer desks (yeah, I’ll move this one in there, too) and a treadmill? Hell, maybe one day I’ll convince Philip that a tanning bed

is a necessity, not just a want. What better place for a tanning bed and treadmill than the first room you walk into in the house? I could always have people enter through the laundry room where the trash accumulates, waiting for someone to carry it to the outdoor bins…and where the litter box goes unnoticed until one of us finally gags or until the dryer door gets left open and the clothes that sit there waiting for a loving fold begin to smell like cat shit. I’m currently building a fort out of old Scoop Away tubs (the big ones with the handles and all that snazz) and some random , broken laundry hamper that just appeared out of nowhere one day.

Mama and Daddy’s new beach house is up Mostly. I have pictures of the unfinished, below. By the time we go help them move all their old stuff into the new trailer next weekend, there will be a brick foundation; a front porch, partially covered/partially sundeck; a back deck; back screened in porch; outdoor shower; brand new patio furniture. My mom is funny. She’s sweating bullets that people will think less of her because her beach house (in a marina community with $400K houses scattered throughout and ¼ acre lots that sell for more than my house!) is a ***gasp!*** singlewide trailer. Hmmm, let’s see…. It’s 16X76, 3br/2ba and will have all those amenities I mentioned above. It’s a SECOND home for them. It’s PAID FOR. They have FREE MARINA ACCESS. Their neighbors on one side are retired and cool as hell – they call my folks anytime something the LEAST bit suspicious happens and they even mow for my dad when he can’t get there for some reason for more than 10 days. The neighbors on the other side are dillweeds, but they are currently keeping to themselves, since they reported some other neighbors to the county for encroaching on their land…as it turns out, the dillweeds are actually almost 35 feet over onto the OTHER neighbors property. We’re anxiously awaiting the verdict on fines and such. I can’t help but snicker. Ummm, back to the other, though…wtf does my mom CARE what anyone else thinks about her po’ ol’ singlewide (imagine that in a lovely white-trash lilt)? .
Hell, if I could live there, I wouldn’t think twice about living in a fucking trailer! Oh yeah…my dad is good, now! He’s learning new habits and promises to take it a little easier on some stuff, but will begin walking at least 1 mile a day again, as soon as he gets over the stent surgery in his heart and the flu he caught in the hospital. (did I ever mention that Daddy is only 59?!)

We took those pictures when Big A and I went to the beach for a day, last weekend. Or was it the weekend before? Whatever it was, it was hell. She decided she didn’t want to go to prom, this year, due to the person she wanted to go with, and the resentment that some of her ex-friends held towards her because of her break-up with him a little over a year ago. Yep, that one. The ONE boyfriend we all adored. He’s back in the picture but just as a friend, so they say. He seems to enjoy hanging out over here a bunch, lately, but I think it’s mostly because his mom is a psycho bitch from hell and we always cook a hot, homemade meal every night. Anyway… we went to the beach just so she could go eat at her favorite place in the whole world: El’s Drive In. Pictured below. Yes, I drove over 400 miles in ONE DAY, just for her. She better effin love me for that! I didn’t even get to go out on the beach but for 15 minutes, then she wanted to go shopping at the mini-slew of pretend-surf-shop-wannabees that are really just tourist traps for cheap and tacky trinkets. Not that I ever buy anything there. Nooooo…me? Tacky trinkets? Pshaw! El’s was fun, though. We got to feed the stray kittens and all the hundreds of seagulls who hang out there on a regular basis. Seriously, one of the biggest attractions of El’s – besides their SuperBurger, which is TO DIE FOR – is feeding your leftovers to the seagulls. If one isn’t careful, they’ll even fly in your window if you taunt them enough.

The most exciting part of the whole trip (that lasted from 8am Saturday morning until well past midnight that night), however, had nothing to do with the food, the sand, the sun or the shopping. We were rear-ended by a couple of young pussies who chose to do the old hit & run rather than be men about it and pull over when I motioned for them to. Big A saw where they turned into a side street and we went and found their car. It was pretty easy to find, as they were driving a mid-80’s model, ragged out Jeep and they pulled into a well-established and sorta-ritzy pier/marina/upscale restaurant and inn parking area. Their white POS Jeep stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the Lexus’, BMWs and Mercedes’. When they saw us stop at their car to get the license plate number, they ran like the little pansy-boys they were. Despite the fact that we had NO damage to my big boat of a Buick (yeah, still driving that, for now), except a little scratch on the bumper, it pissed me off to no end so we found the police department and reported them. I assured the cop that I had no desire to drive 4 hours (one way) back to Emerald Isle, just for some judge to give them a slap on the wrist, but it’d be swell if he could send out one of his biggest, burliest, scariest officers, just to put the fear of God into them. The cop laughed and said he thought that was a fine idea. I would SO love to have been a fly on the wall…errr….window…when that happened! No one was hurt, though and it was pretty funny. The cop we reported to even got a good chuckle when I told him that it was best I didn’t go after the pussies – umm, yeah, young men - as I was rather pissed and didn’t really want to spend an evening in the hospitality of the Carteret County jailhouse. Big A – her and her tiny stature – wanted terribly for us to catch the twerps and “beat the fuck out of them”, as she so animatedly put it. She would have, too. She is fearless. How do I convince her that the line between fearless and idiotic can be incredibly fine, at times?

The Camaro is running like a kitten. It looks SWEEEEEEEEETTTTTT. Well, the driver’s side does. And looking at it from the front at an angle. It still needs a passenger’s rear quarterpanel or, at the very least, a few taps with a ball peen hammer from the underside and a tad bit of touch-up paint. Or a few dabs of OPI Red, Red Rhine. Now we just have to pay the $195 to register and tag it…and scrape together the extra $300/6months insurance. Highway robbery, I tell you! Oh, to top the bendover in the insurance premium, they almost didn’t want to insure us, anyway, because Big A is an inexperienced driver and they won’t insure a “high-powered” vehicle in a household with “IE drivers”. When I explained that it was just a measly 6cylinder, they changed their tune. Yeah, to the tune of another $600/year.
Sheesh!

Due to my dear friend, Caro, I have learned a new type of jewelry-making. While visiting from London, she wore this lovely hemp necklace that I just HAD TO learn to replicate. As it turns out, the “beads” I need to make that type are hard to find and a bit expensive, so I found some alternatives. I’m teaching myself to macramé and a few other techniques to create really cool hemp jewelry. No, not the everyday variety you’ll see at trinket shops and trade shows; but very intricate and one-of-a-kind types that I hope will go over well with some of the “alternative” crowd I’ve come to love VIA the tattoo parlor and a few other places. It’s unique and nothing like anything one will find around this area. I’ll try my hand at actually selling some of this jewelry, soon. I just have to get past a couple of fishing ventures (on a boat! I’m totally stoked about this!) and the trip to help my folks “move” into their new beach house.

Hopefully, I’ll get the current part of my tattoo finished, around that time, as well. I already have the next phase sketched out. I’ll just have to hope to make enough selling jewelry to help pay some bills AND pay the $200+ for the third installment in what will soon be a total, below-the-knee “sleeve”. Yep, I plan to completely cover my lower right leg. Hell, how much can I regret ONE leg, later in life? It’s not like I’m trying out for Mrs. USA or anything! Not to mention, when it’s my own artwork, why not make it a true part of me? Perhaps, in the near future, I can convince my tattooist that he truly IS talented enough to open his own shop. If he’ll do that, I’d be more than happy to manage the day-to-day operations and maybe, just maybe, put some of my own artwork up for display/sale. My tattooist is a true art-God. You have no idea just how amazing he is, unless you’ve seen him work, freehand, in person.

If you’ve made it this far (and I hope you have), peace to all! I’m floating around here, in cyberspace, thinking of all of you – even those of you whom I’ve not mentioned (I swear!). Stay safe and happy. Most importantly, never forget to be yourself! You only have one life to live (nope – don’t watch soaps, so that’s not where I’m heading)….live it to the fullest and make sure to do everything you want in life; despite what others may think! Be yourself and be TRUE to YOU! I promise, you’ll have no regrets in the end.