Ya know, I feel kinda guilty--when so many of you are socked in with snow and you're freezing, your toes and fingers turning blue while your nose is numb--feeling the need to share the wonderfully sunny 72 degrees we had here today. It was awesome, really. can't imagine a more perfect day.

A few weeks ago, the Spouse Thingy started taking violin lessons. The sounds emanating from his violin actually sound like music already and not the stepped-upon cat I feared I'd be listening to for months on end. He can already play Twinkle, Twinkle and Baa, Baa, Black Sheep and this is in spite of his teacher constantly canceling or shuffling his lessons around.

When he grows up, he wants to play like Vanessa Mae. She wields a wicked bow, and even makes me wish I could play.



Heck, I wish I could play that on the guitar, too.

She's hot, too. Even I can see that...

William Shatner dancing in nothing but a Speedo is enough to wake anyone up from a bad dream at 4-freaking-a.m., and leave them lying there, too creeped out to fall back asleep.

Oddly, this is not the first time Shatner has invaded my dreams.

I never did get his football jersey and hug...

Fruit Stripe Zebras, Anyone?



Sharon is a pretty freaking creative person, and when I lurk at her blog I'm almost always blown away by the things she paints.

I felt an instant Oooooooh! when she posted a picture of the zebras she'd painted. And I commented that if it was a poster, it'd be hanging on my wall...

...and it was!

Sharon has an art shop. I squealed like a little girl, and went from Oooooooh! to mine mine mine mine!

So now it's on my kitchen counter, and I'm trying to decide on which wall it will hang.

And I really want some Fruit Stripe gum right now. Go figure.

Feeling Much Better... More Oddz N Endz

Amy Winehouse won a Grammy. Amy Winehouse is in Rehab. One has nothing to do with the other, so why are people getting bent about it? A crackhead can have talent. Being a "role model" isn't a new prerequisite for a music award, is it?
* * * * *
Did I miss the memo about the government solving the World Peace dilemma, getting the budget balanced, funding the sure cure for cancer, and dissolving partisan practices? I can't think of another reason why the government is poking its stubby little fingers into whether or not a baseball player was injected with HGH. It's BASEBALL. Entertainment. Unless they found Osama bin Laden, ended the war, championed the end of disease as we know it, and learned to play nice, WTF are they spending money on this?
* * * * *
Dude in the ancient Corolla...instead of hitting the brakes every 3.2 seconds, how about you just slow down? I'd rather have to adjust my speed downward than play Guess Whether Or Not I'm Gonna Stop.
* * * * *
Zooming along at 45 mph, enjoying the feeling of the breeze on my knees and not minding the odd bugs getting splattered on my visor, the theme to America's Funniest Videos started playing in my head. I do not know why. But I wish it would stop.
* * * * *
I'm not going to become an Ink Freak. I won't wind up with tattoos creeping out the neckline of my shirt collar, spilling onto my neck. I won't be a mass of scribbles dow my forearms, creeping onto my hands.I love tattoos and I like seeing them on people, even the massively inked people, but I have my personal limits.
* * * * *
The ink that I do have and will get has meaning. No one else has to understand it, but it's not there to offend or make people flinch. Thumper is cute, but he's not on my arm because of that. When I get the tiger, it won't be because tigers float my boat (though they do) but because there's something in the design that has a deeper meaning to me. And there's a 3rd one I will get if I can't incorporate it into the tiger tattoo, because it really means something to me.
* * * * *
Happy Day After Valentine's Day!

P.S. Bring frozen yogurt, too...

Whichever one of you is sneaking into my house at night and shoving a blowtorch down my throat, please stop. I've missed 2 prime days of riding, all the sun and 68 wonderful degrees, because my throat is on fire and I'm pretty sure my head will explode if I exhale too hard. If you do sneak in again, please bring chocolate.

Bite me...and get off my lawn!

"Awesome! I totally never expected Grandma to be the one getting off a bike like that!"

=sigh=

Oddz N Endz Part 32323232.9

• My editor, she make me cry...


• OK, no she didn't, but she was supposed to send notes that said It's perfect! Leave it exactly like it is! YOU'RE GOING TO WIN A PRIZE FOR THIS!


• Instead she wrote stuff like You're repetitive; you're beating the reader over the head with a single point, you need more interaction between some key characters, and oh, yeah, you suck.


• OK, she didn't say I suck. But she did affirm my own suspicions.


• Today was not a work day. Today was a sunny, warm, go for a long ride day.


• Somewhere on I-505, I think I heard my bike squeal Wheeeeee!


• Or maybe that was me.


• I stopped for lunch at Quiznos, where a little boy looked at the bread crusts I was throwing away, and then he frowned at me and scolded me for not finishing my sandwich.


• He also informed me that since I didn't finish, I couldn't have a cookie for dessert.


• I told him he was right, no dessert for me.


• For the next 30 miles, I really wanted a cookie.


• I did stop for a drink (and t rest my tuckus) at the gas station/McDonald's, where a large group of teenage boys were milling about the parking lot.


• As I got off my bike one of them noted the bright hi-viz yellow vest I wear over my black jacket and snorted, "Your mom make you wear that?"


• I took my helmet off and snorted back, "I am the Mom."


• Luckily, the teenagers had a sense of humor.


• I did not ask why they were not in school.


• Tomorrow is supposed to be just as nice, so I'm not sure if it will be a work day or a play day. Maybe both.


• I really do need to get back to work, because my editor, she's a meaniehead.

What You Don't Necessarily Want To Hear From Your Editor Regarding Your 95% Finished Manuscript:

I couldn't put it down...notes to follow.

This could be ether very good (she was so entrenched in it that she stayed up until 3 a.m. because it was Teh Awesome!) or very bad (like, how can you pull yourself away from a massive literary train wreck? You have to keep reading because you can't believe anyone could write that much crap.)

I'm pretty sure I know what note #1 will be: Where's the freaking ending?

It's in my brain. Sort of. I'll get it to her when I get it to her... In the meantime, I hope she was at least amused by my train wreck.

Parked next to my car in the Border's parking lot was a bright yellow little Ninja motorcycle, and standing next to it was a guy in a black leather jacket with a helmet dangling from his hand.

He oozed oh it's so pretty and I can't believe it's mine! It's mine it's mine it's mine! and I totally get that; when I was close enough I said "nice bike" because when you have a new bike, you want everyone to notice and praise it and offer it crunchy treats and a gallon of unleaded.

He grinned and thanked me, adding "I just got it. The guy I bought it from met me at L&L and we just sealed the deal."

Okay, Ninja Boy is excited and wants to talk about his new toy. I can play. I told him I had a Suzuki and was having a shitload of fun on it. And he picked a nice day to be out on a bike.

Then I asked, "So...how long have you been riding?"

He looked at his watch.

Ninja Boy passed the basic rider's class at noon today and at 3:30 was getting ready to take his brand new ride home.

"Everyone keeps telling me I need to practice in a parking lot before going out on the street," he said. "That's why I wanted to meet the guy here."

I looked around. It's Sunday, and the parking lot is almost at capacity. Brand new rider on a new-to-him bike in an area where idiots operate SUVs and mini-vans...that had the potential of turning ugly really fast.

"Um," I said, cringing internally, "I think they meant in an empty parking lot."

Ninja Boy looked confused for a moment, and then the light bulb went off over his head.

I wished him a safe ride, and then got I my car and left. I hope he made it home all right...

It's gotta be a tiger of some sort...


Click to biggify

Too bad these three are already on other people...I really like #3, but with the brighter colors of #2.

OK, it's an addiction...

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

Probably.

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.

Crap.

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.

Ok, it made *me* laugh...

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 sure...got 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:



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 :)