OK, it's an addiction...

...I'm already undergoing heavy consideration for a second tattoo. But only one more.



Amuse thyself...

Step 1: Go to Google.
Step 2: Type "find chuck norris" in the search box.
Step 3: Click on "I Feel Lucky."


I think I've mentioned before that I have a slight problem with ringing in my ears. It's not bad, just a constant background noise that until I was about 12 years old I thought everyone had. I can ignore it most of the time; the times it's most annoying is late at night when the house is quiet. Then it can manifest itself in odd ways other than a ringing: the sound of TV on in another room, the dull roar of a horse race or an auction...Dan Rather's voice droning the evening news.

Yeah, that particular one is really annoying.

Four thirty this morning I woke when Buddah jumped from the bed onto his climbing tree (um, yeah, I displayed an incredible amount of intelligence by putting it right next to the bed) and as I tried to fall back asleep I heard Max downstairs, meowing. He's known to sing his little heart out in the middle of the night, and I'm known to utter, "Max, just shut up..."

As soon as I said his name, he let slip a tiny meow from the other side of the bed.

So I had Buddah in the room on the tree, and Max curled up next to me...and a kitty crying downstairs.

I strained to listen; maybe it was a cat stuck outside in the rain. So I got up and peeked out the window, but I couldn't see anything wet and shivering, and the sound was coming from downstairs.

All right, maybe there was a cat by the front door. But I stepped out into the hallway, and the meowing stopped. I waited at the top of the stairs, and when after two or three minutes it didn't start back up, I went back to bed.

Within five minutes I heard it again; I got back up and out into the hall, and nothing.

Back in bed, and there it was, the definite sound of Max's sometimes annoying meow wafting up the stairs, but he was still curled up on the bed.

And then Dan Rather started up, his deep voice a rumble alongside of the sounds of Max.


At least when I hear Dan mumbling in the middle of the night, or the patter of an auction coming from another room, I know what it is. This new twist to my tinnitus is going to have me up and down, checking to see if Max is singing or if he needs help.

I may never sleep through the night again.


I tried sitting in the Walmart McD's today, just people watching while I scratched out a few notes for the current manuscript. It's just not the same without Bill the Greeter there, his voice booming over everything else. I miss the little kids getting excited over the stickers he handed out, and the sudden smiles he managed to bring out of people.

Or maybe it was the weather; not as many people wandering over to Walmart with it so wet and cold outside, and those who were there just weren't happy about it. I gave up and headed over to Borders, where there are plenty of people but fewer smiles and little kids bouncing up and down excitedly.

Alex wasn't there; his little corner of the coffee shop was quiet. Hell, the whole place was quiet and for the first ten minutes I was the only one there hogging table space. I sat where I could see out into the store, but the people who walked past were few and far between.

Eventually there was a guy named Mark; I know his name because he announced it quite loudly when he answered his cell phone. "Hi, this is Mark!" I'm pretty sure the people at the cash registers up front heard him, too. Mark was happy and enthusiastic until receiving the news that he doesn't have enough equity in his house to refinance. I know this only because he shouted it across the cafe to his mother.

It was nice that he had a date with his Mom, though. He bought her hot chocolate and a Giant Rice Krispie treat, the sight of which caused me a major case of the munchies (to which I did not cave, thank you very much, but I still want one, and if I still want one tomorrow I might go ahead and get one.) Mom fretted over his news, he brushed it off as no big deal, he's not about to lose the house, he only wanted a better rate.

They were still there an hour later, when a women with a small child in stroller came in. I couldn't really see them, but I could hear the munchkin singing "cookie, cookie, cookie" over and over, and I imagined he was pointing to the display case, loaded with about 13 million calories of baked and confectionery temptations.

I managed to get about 45 pages into the third draft of the book; it wasn't nearly as fun, though, without as many people to distract me from the pretentiousness of creating some clearly flawed characters.

It was better than helping a little old lady get topless, so I'll take what I can get.

I wonder if she's still there in the changing room, waiting for someone to help her get redressed...


Approachability escalates to a whole new level when a little old lady peeks her head out of the dressing room in the mammography clinic, looks around, and then settles on you to ask for help in getting undressed... Oy.


I have 45 cents left of a gift card. I hate the idea that Visa will get to keep that 45 cents. What can I buy with a gift card for 45 cents? Especially, what could I buy for 45 cents with a gift card that will have a sales clerk's eyes rolling? Inquiring minds want to know...


'Tis a sad, sad day when your favorite fast food chain Chinese place closes without warning. =sniff= Very sad.


Oh man, beautiful day today, 59 degrees, sunny, no wind...the kind of day that says to a person with a bike You must ride.

So we geared up, with no particular place to go, just an intent to pick a direction and go. I stuffed tiny little speakers into my helmet and started up my iPod with my bike, and was rocking to American Idiot, anticipating a wonderful 40-50 mile ride through the back roads of Solano County. We have some wicked nice back roads, too.

The Spouse Thingy let his bike warm up a bit, and then indicated he was ready to roll, so I put my bike in gear and headed down the road.

We were gonna zoooooooom.

Ya know what? A really heavy leather jacket rubbing on a 3 day old tattoo is kind of uncomfortable. We got to the stop sign half a block away and I told him I wasn't less than half a mile away and realized I could do it, but it wasn't going to be any fun. So I made a U-turn and headed home, the Spouse Thingy putt-putting behind me.

We went to a movie instead.

Oh yeah, that's how bad ass a biker I am. My jacket rubbed my intentional owie, and I ran home.

But think about it, just how bad ass can a fat middle-aged woman with a Disney character etched into her skin really be?

Apparently, not very... Heh.


How Thumper Spent Her Afternoon...

Now, it's still very fresh and raw and kinda bloody, but I had to share:

Brand New Tattoo

My design, inked by Lin at Alpha Omega Tattoos. It's the one I've been carrying around for the last 10 years, waiting for the right time to get it and the right person to put it on me. I decided now was right, and it's the Boy's Christmas gift to me.

I totally hearts it :)


Laughing at my own suckitude...

  • Pick up a guitar for the first time in at least 5 years. Strum. I suck.
  • Restring guitar. Strings stretch while playing. Doesn't matter, because I suck.
  • Find old sheet music, realize I can't remember a whole lot of chords, but that's okay, because I suck anyway.
  • Find folder of songs I wrote back in junior high. Realize I kind of sucked even 33-34 years ago.
  • Hum along as I play, because I haven't sung in as long as I haven't played, and I suck.
  • Inflict my playing on the cats and watch them run, because I suck.
  • Enjoy it anyway, because it doesn't matter. I suck, and it's kind of funny.


Go ahead, roll your eyes at me...

I can't find Buddah's favorite toy mousies, and as a consequence, I am have feelings of parental failure.

Poor kitty.

If I was a GOOD kitty mom, I could close my eyes, inhale, visualize, and know EXACTLY where those freaky little heart shaped mice have gotten to.

Instead, I will make him feel better with crunchy treats.

I can only image the food issues I'd be giving him if he were human...


It's National DeLurking Day!

Go ahead, leave a comment. I know you're out there, being all stealthy quiet and stuff. Just say Hi or You Suck or DIAF or even FOAD, as long as you comment :)


Because my brain is not functioning and I have nothing worthwhile to say, here are more signs that made me snicker...

Too bad that last one isn't real. I'd ride that road.


Watch for falling...


I think I'll avoid riding there...


Don't think I'll be doing a lot of riding in the next week...

Today was a fun one, with lots of rain, sustained 35 mph winds, with gusts up to 69 mph. The wind woke me up at Way Too Early, which gave me an excuse for an afternoon nap, especially since there was no way I was going anywhere in it, bike or not.

I discovered that Buddah considers the bed his during the day, and he did not want to share.

I'd like to say I won the battle, but truthfully I napped with my legs in odd positions to accommodate the little bed hog.

One of the roads I ride on quite a bit:

I hope it survives the rest of the week...


Let's continue pondering how freaking smart I am. Because I am, I obviously am.

Yesterday was a nice enough day so we decided to take the bikes out; the Spouse Thingy's had not been ridden in a couple of weeks, and you just don't want to let a bike sit unridden for long periods of time, lest its battery decides to die and its gas gets all icky and stuff. I just like to ride, I'll take just about any excuse.

Ten miles out my gas light came on, so we headed for a gas station, because--see, I am so smart--that's where you fuel up.

I pulled up to a pump and saw a ripped-up sign indicating the ATM function on said pump may or may not be working, so I backed up to the pump behind it. I turned the ignition key to off, looked down to make sure the kickstand was still down, and started to get off. The kickstand, however, while down, was apparently not on actual pavement. I think I leaned it down onto a seam between two panels of concrete. Smart, smart, smart.

The bike went over, taking me with it. Spouse Thingy was scrambling to get off his bike, I was lying there worried not about the fact that my foot was pinned under the bike, but that I might have broken something on the bike.

Because that's how smart I am.

Two guys ran out of the gas station, and while the Spouse Thingy was worrying about whether or not I was in one piece, the one guy picked my bike up like it was a toy. And then we all stood there admiring my favorite toy, as it had not a single scratch on it. The mirror had moved, but it was not broken.

Bike guy assured me even he had dumped a bike or two in his time, including once with his wife on the back. I'm willing to bet she was not thrilled.

But, I finally got that first drop out of the way and nothing was broken, not on the bike or myself. It did make me think (again) that I don't want to wear my spiffy red, white, and blue leather jacket while riding any more, lest I mess it up. So today I went jacket shopping, and not finding anything that didn't make me look like a Power Ranger, I came home and ordered a jacket online.

Really, though, I am obviously of such great intelligence that they should clone me and sell me on eBay for, like, $59.99...


Happy New Year, You're Smarter Than I Am

Oh yeah, I am smart.

Let me tell you how smart I am.

Three days ago (well, nights...) the Spouse Thingy heard a noise and looked out the window upstairs; there were people trying to open the side door of the garage in the house next door. The house we used to live in, and still have warm fuzzies about. The house that has sat empty since August, and to which the doors have only been opened (as far as I know) one time when the smoke alarms were going off and we went in to make sure it wasn't on fire.

He ran downstairs and said, "Someone is breaking in next door."

And this is where my incredible, so-smart-my-head-should-weigh-15-pounds, exponentially wonderful intelligence came into play.

I did not pick up the phone to dial 911.

I did not shrug it off with a "Who cares? The house is empty."

No, I stormed out the front door and stomped over there to give the intruders a piece of my mind, the Spouse Thingy hot on my heels, probably wondering what he would do with my corpse.

There they were, two people standing there while another was drilling into the lock, hunched by the fence in the darkness. Oh yeah, let's break into the garage instead of the front door! That made sense.

Turns out they were there on behalf of the bank to change the locks; they showed the Spouse Thingy proof while I went back home to get the garage door opener, so that they could enter without spending so much time drilling their way in.

But yeah, that's how smart I am.

So Happy New now know you're much smarter than Thumper.