Turkey Tale #2: Tennis Ball Brawl

T is a large dog. He is 90 pounds of big brown butt wiggling, tail wagging happiness. Sure, some may call him "spastic" or "hyper", but it’s all in a general mood of friendship and "OH MY GOD, I CAN'T BELIEVE ITS YOU!WOOOHOOO!!!"

Now, D, my parents dog, though also extremely friendly and happy to see everyone, upon sight of the big brown dog, turns into a spitting, growling, "GET OUT OF HERE OR I WILL BITE YOUR FACE OFF!" little white fur ball. D weighs 8 pounds, tops.

They have interacted before, and T has gotten pretty good at ignoring D while she nips at his feet and lunges at his face. I am proud of T's tolerance to the furry little rat, since he is the one who could cause the damage if he really wanted to. One bite, and CRUNCH, D is dinner.

However, this trip the truce was broken. As to who's to blame and what passed between them, I can only guess. Let's just say there was a tennis ball involved. When J yanked T off of D I was sure there was going to be blood on her clean white fur, and gashes in her neck... but to my surprise (and relief) she was fine. T, however, was trailing blood on the floor. Upon closer inspection it looked as though D chomped down on his back foot, leaving a little puncture wound. Yes, the 8 pound dog kicked the 90 pound dogs ass.

Both dogs were promptly exiled to their perspective "Time Out" places. T slumped in his corner, licking his wound, but it wouldn't stop bleeding. It was really barely anything, but since it was a puncture wound, it was deep and not quick to clot. In order to protect my mother's carpet, we wrapped gauze followed by a sock and duct tape. He looked pretty silly...we can't all pull it off like Britney Spears.

Turkey Tale #1: Traffic Terror!

It's a little over an hour into the drive to Virginia, and as we emerge from a tunnel on the Merritt Parkway, red break lights begin to pulse ahead of us.

"Man, that dude just hit the median!" says J, as traffic abruptly slows and begins scooting over to the right. I lean to the left across J's line of sight, and about 50 yards ahead I see a truck with it's left front tire resting half way up the jersey barrier. The car in front of us moves to the right lane, and as he does we see a white van, hazard lights blinking, coming right at us. J quickly moves to the right lane and we watch the van go by, against traffic, in the fast lane.

"You can’t do that!" I say, thinking it's some sort of service van trying to get to...behind us...by driving into oncomming traffic?

"There was no one behing the wheel" says J, stunned.

Huh?

And sure enough, as we pass the wrecked truck crunched against the left median barrier, a few yards up, on the right side shoulder, sits a tow truck. And next to the tow truck stands a dude, with his hands on his head, mouth open - completely mortified. Next to him is a lady on a cell phone, hopefully calling an ambulance. Either for the guy in the truck, or the numerous people that are behind us, not knowing that an ½ ton van is barreling down at them head on. Terrified at the danger of the situation, I turn around to see the van hit the Jersey barrier, and hopefully slow down? When it passed us it was only going about 15mph, but we were on a hill, a STEEP hill, so that van could really have gained some speed. But as we crest the top of the hill, I don't see whether the van has come to a stop.

Holy Moly, I felt lucky. If we left 5 minutes later, who knows? Thank God I wasn't driving. I might have thought the van was trying to win at some game of chicken, and since I was the one driving in the CORRECT direction, I obviously had righteousness on my side. But as everyone knows, you can't play chicken with gravity. Gravity will always win.

Postscript: I checked the Internet afterwards, and there was no report of anyone being hurt, or of the incident itself, so let’s hope everything turned out ok.

And Don't Touch My Stapler!

Just completed the mad dash to get as much stuff done as possible before I take off. Not working is almost as stressful as working! Ok, not really, but the thought of people riffling through my stuff makes me anxious. On the spectrum of organization I am at my most anal the day before vacation. All my random piles of crap and thumb tacked reminders are sorted and stacked to perfection. Anything that I know is an open issue it right there, in a file, in the middle of my desk, to insure no snoopy coworkers will discover what a lazy slob and procrastinator I am. Truly I am not (much), but I feel any slightly overdue action or evidence that I may not be RIGHT on top of everything is like the cigarrettes stashed under my mattress in high school. No mom, don’t put my clothes away! I’ll do it. Yes, I like laundry, just STAY OUT OF MY ROOM.

Yes, I’m organized, no need to touch anything, anything you need is right there…DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING. And what ever you do, do NOT OPEN MY DESK DRAWER! Nothing to see in there.

Ok, so I can’t quite take that attitude here at work, but I sure can try and head them off. Which I think I have…for the most part. I think. ugh.

Wizards are Hot

Heading down the folks place tomorrow night. We'll leave after work and stop at a Motel six in Jersey for the night. It's the only one we know that allows dogs, and since we’re bringing the Big Brown Monster, no other place we know of will accommodate us. It is in the armpit of New Jersey. It would be nice if we could find an alternative that's next to a nice restaurant or jazz bar. But no, so strip mall central here we come!

It will be nice to be home for a while. My mom is still recovery from her episode a few weeks back. Hopefully she'll be doing better.

On a side note, her inability to see straight has left the cooking duties to the daughters. Um, yeah. My sister’s beau has offered to bake an apple pie, but that is approximately 15% of the entire meal, so needless to say I will be elbow deep in foodstuffs Thursday morning.

It will be nice to watch some football there too. I can rib my dad about USC near loss to Fresno State (yes, he is a Trojan). It seemed like all the planets were lining up to help the Hokies reclaim a rightful spot in the BCS...or do I dare say a National Title chance, but with Penn States win and USC pulling it out, that little fantasy must die. Things still look good for the BCS and the ACC title, with Georgia Tech beating Miami! Boy, I was hoping, but I really didn't think it would happen.

There is also a plan to see the new Harry Potter. I am so excited I can't even tell you! Goblet of Fire was, by far, my favorite book of the series. I can't wait to see the mermaids and how cute Cedric will be. Of course, he couldn't get close to the prettiness of Oliver Wood. Rrrreeeeyaaar (that is supposed to sound like a cat...you know...reeeeeeerrrrrrr?) Who, by the way, I believe was at the Quidditch World Cup in the book, so perhaps he will make an appearance?!

I am sad that I may not get to see any friends while at home. Mrs. T will be away at her hubby’s family. There was hope that we could gather on Sunday, but since the stupid Rockettes settled their strike, she is destined to be a Radio City Music Hall watching a Holiday Spectacular!! (I think...let me know).

Take your tie and shove it!

I am sitting here at 11pm Saturday night and all I have to say is....Woooohoooooooo! Go Hokies!

Yep, we sure did kick their butts. And in their house. Oh yeah.

The highlight was when they were showing the mad dash by the UVA kids for seats at the beginning at there were (of course) dudes in ties and the announcer said

"Hey, that kids wearing a tie! Why would you wear a tie to a football game? People don't wear ties to football games(laughing) I mean, unless you're a sportscaster?"

Yes, we in Virginia know all about the delusional Ivy League wannabes. Thomas Jefferson blah, blah, blah.

AND...Georgia Tech just beat Miami! Wow.

AND...USC is only beating Fresno by 7 and Fresno is getting ready to score.

Holy crap. What a Saturday. If only Michigan State coulda beat Penn State. And Michigan coulda beat Ohio State. Oh well...you can't have everything.

I can probably eat more paper clips than you too...

Well, the Nacho is not pregnant…again. Lord, what do we have to do!? Well, of course I know what we have to do, but so far it’s not working.

After this state of my uterus was confirmed, we went out to dinner and I proceeded to drink too much wine. I hadn’t had any in a while and boy did it pack a punch. As a result, I feel kinda crappy today.

Why does every job I have require me to get up at the butt-crack of dawn? Doesn’t anyone understand that I am not a morning person? Including me. Why don’t I get jobs that start at 9? Whatever happened to 9 to 5? I’m doing 7-4. Hey, there’s another hour in there. Did people use to get paid for lunch?

In other news….

I have averted disaster! Well, not disaster, but annoyance. Saturday was to be UFC night at our house. J invited a gang of dudes over to watch men try and kill each other in a cage. I do not like this sport. I find it repugnant. I understand it takes skill and strength, and the people involved are good at what they do, but it doesn’t change the fact that what they are good at, is hurting people. Hey, I could probably punt a cat farther than you….but we shouldn’t have a contest to find out. Anyway, for some reason the festivities have been moved from our house to another guy’s house. Probably related to the size of his….TV.

Oh, and I am a little excited today because not only did cativa stop by , but sambot actually typed the words N-a-c-h-o I-n-t-o-l-e-r-a-n-t into a blog post. I am all a twitter just thinking of his fingers clicking away on his Mac-Daddy Mac!

I love me some Apple porn.

3 o'clock...the blogging hour

Nacho has been a flurry of activity as of late. In direct proportion to my work ethic. That would be adversely proportional. Who has time for work when there is internet to type and click at!?

I think it is this increase in quantity, and decrease in quality that inspired the Oi post.

Question:

Do co-workers think that it you are more likely to do what they want when they ask

"Can you do me a Flavor?"

This is a disturbing new trend around here. Everyone thinks they are witty. They are not.

You can have some of my Prozac if you want..?

Welcome to the Club.
Happy Birthday Amy!

Oi! Blog Pondering

I am going through an internal debate about my blog. I cannot decide whether this should be a "diary" sort of thing or whether I would like to turn it more into and anecdote, short storish kinda of place. Now I just kinda put up whatever I feel like...which is fine. Sometimes it’s more composed, while other times just quick and dirty. I’ve just been thinking that I would like an outlet for my WRITING writing, if you know what I mean.

Any stories I publish on here would also have dairy-type qualities. I would still write in a memoir form, not pure fiction or anything (or at least I don’t think so). A place with less ellipses! And I’m not talking about a bunch of flowery language or 3 paragraph descriptions of last night’s sunset. More like my entries regarding the Amusement Park and less like yesterday’s boring weather report and observations about the size of my ass. I have toyed with the idea of yet ANOTHER blog...but I already have (3)...and NO! you can’t see them by looking at my profile. They exist completely independent of each other…well, there are one or two cross-over readers that I trust. One is parent friendly, one is a group of friends who all post and then there is Nacho. And yes, when I am short on material or energy I put up the same posts on different blogs. Lazy perhaps, but efficient, you bet!

Maybe it’s just that I am feeling especially creative today. I was thinking about stuff that has happened in my life and decided to sit and write about it. Reading through it, I’m not sure it fits on this site. Also, I am a closet poet (shut up, stop laughing) and would like a place to put it all down. Can you copyright a blog? Not that anyone would want to steal my stuff...

Numbers Schmumbers

What is up with the weather around here? It's 60 degrees outside!

Unfortunately it is not going to last. Apparently, the front will move through this afternoon and bring the cold blustery winter wind with it. Killington is set to open this weekend, and this warm spell must have them a little worried. On their website, they have their "base" listed as 0"...which seems like a problem.

The mountain we usually go to, Mount Snow, has tentatively set their open date for next Wednesday 11/23. I'm sure J hopes this will be the case. When we get back from Thanksgiving in Virginia, hopefully we can start our weekend trips up to Vermont...where the boys snowboard and the girls sit by the fire, drink wine and knit!

And in knitting news...
I have finished the back of my very first sweater! I will start the front panels tonight (it's a cardigan) at my knitting group. Not really a group, since there is only two of us. I'm a little worried because I didn’t use the right gauge yarn or the recommended needle size. I did a lot of figuring with a calculator to determine how to proceed. They should introduce this rogue knitting style to High School math classes. If needle 10 yeilds 4" after 28 rows, then needle 8 will yeild 4" after X number of rows. Combine with factor Y, the yarn gauge and...er...uh...

Or you could just use a tape measure and knit until it gets a long as it's supposed to. And there is also the fail safe method of holding it up to your body. Which is what I did. Lets hope the arm holes line up.

SAD - Seasonal Annoyance Disorder

I've been super bitch lately. Luckily, most of it is unleashed on co-workers, so J is spared. I feel like winter is coming way too fast this year. There is all sorts of crap I need to do before we get snowed in for the next 5 months and it's driving me nuts. Sorry, feeling whiny.

I realized I am paying for a gym membership I haven't used since May. What a waste of money. But to quit...well, it would be quitting. It would mean admitting I am not going to exercise, nor do I plan on exercising anytime in the near future...and that's just sad.

One would think the current state of my stuff would motivate me. But this time of year my motivation goes down the toilet with my good humor and patience. Not only do the winter blues make me crabby and eat everything in sight, they also make the prospect of exercise less appealing.

Not that I exercised before it got cold. Because, you know, then it was way too hot! I have yet to find the correct temperature, relative humidity and sun/cloud ratio that will inspire me to purposely move so that my heart will race and mucsles will be toned. But I’m afraid my winter blubber has begun to build too early. There is still Thanksgiving and Christmas to get through with their gravies and cookies and potatoes. Smash 'em, mash 'em, hash brown 'em, fry 'em, boil 'em, bake 'em. My mom bakes them twice! Yum, Twice-Baked Potatoes. With cheddar cheese. And Gravy.

Oh Lord, I am doomed.

Because I have nothing better to do

I am late on the bandwagon with this, but since my friend Jessamyn is not as blog addicted as I am, she probably hasn’t done this yet. So I’m doing it for her!


According to Google, the Top Ten Things “Jessamyn needs”….

Jessamyn needs to be picked up at the airport and taken to dinner

Jessamyn needs no introduction


Ok, well Jessamyn is not that common of a name, so it appears that all she needs is transport and food, but luckily you already know who she is. Well I hope so if your going to pick her up from the airport.


Furthurmore, “Jessamyn wants”…

Jessamyn wants us to invest in libraries, and use them as tools to bridge the digital divide.

Jessamyn wants to "parlay this love of reading this one book to learning to love reading for its own sake".

Jessamyn wants to enroll.

Jessamyn wants to show you how to knot and showcase your big-holed beads

Jessamyn wants to know what we think about a quote about librarians and privilege.


Well! Apparently Jessamyn wants a lot more than she needs…just like the rest of us.

Oh, and Jess, I can't wait for you to learn me on those big-holed beads!

Rosencrantz, bring it on! Or is it Guildenstern?

Nacho: Good Morning Dirt Digger, can you fax me the Important Form we sent you last week?

Dirt Digger: What form?

Nacho: You didn’t get it?

Dirt Digger: Well, I’m digging dirt, can you send someone out with a copy?

Nacho: You didn’t’ get my message?

Dirt Digger: How many times do I have to tell you guys that I don’t check my messages?

Nacho : (oh, right , what was I thinking?) Where are you digging?

Dirt Digger: Do you know that new development off 100?

Nach: Before or after the bridge?

Dirt Digger: Is someone leaving now?

Nacho: Are you not there yet?

Dirt Digger: Can someone meet me there in 10 minutes?

Nacho: You’re at the office now?

Dirt Digger: If I leave the office in 5 minutes, can someone meet me in 15?

Nacho: Um, can you look on your fax machine?

Dirt Digger: Oh, do you mean this paper that says Important Form?

Monday: Stupid questions that have both annoyed me, and made me realize I might have PMS

One I Serve: Did Plumber order the shower?

Do I look like the plumber? Though you seem to think differently, I do not have insight into the doings of people who do not work here. I can call him…do you want me to call him?

One I Serve: Do we KNOW if the plumber ordered the shower?

Yes, better. This is a question I can answer. No, I do not know if the plumber has ordered the shower. I assume, since you are asking, that you don’t know either. So, WE definitely do not know.

Phone Rings

Nacho: Good Morning, General Contracting Company.

Guy on Phone: Is The Girl Who Also Works There close?

Uh...is she close? Do you mean is she standing next to me while I talk to you on the phone? She is never close. Her desk is on the other side of the office. Is her proximity to me in direct relation to your need to speak to her? Why are you asking this question? Is it so that if I produce her to you, you can be comforted in knowing she was close, not far….Do you have some sort of phone guilt problem? We have intercoms, it’s ok.


Lady I Work With: Good Morning Nacho.

Nacho: Good Morning to you.

Lady I Work With: Why are we so chipper today?!

This particular person has the habit of asking me questions that I do not know how to answer. First, I can only assume by "WE" you mean "ME"... since it appears WE is my new name. And I was not aware that I was chipper. I am not un-chipper. Do I have to have a reason for not being a miserable bitch?


15 seconds later

Lady I Work With: Well, aren’t we purple today?

No, we are not purple. You are wearing white. I suppose I am purple, because me shirt is purple. I really don’t feel comfortable talking about my purpleness.

Goo Be Gone!

I desperately need to do laundry. As such, I am scraping the bottom of the apparel barrel. As I sit, my too-short sweater rides up in the back and my pants zipper creeps down in the front. No matter which way I turn you can glimpse my underwear! Why I keep these pants in my possession I have no idea. I put them on, forgetting their inability to stay zipped, and then when I get out of my car in the morning I feel the tell-tale looseness in front. So today, every time I stand up I have to do a quick yank . Fun.

Yesterday I wore a pair of brown slacks I never wear. As I put them on and buttoned them, I noticed they felt a little tight. “Oh, THAT’S why I never where these” I say to myself, trying my best to believe that they have ALWAYS been that tight, and therefore explaining their low rotation. Oh no, the fact that when I sit the cuffs ride so high you can see my unshaven legs and ugly white tube socks have nothing to do with it! (All cute socks are dirty now too, so the white sporty ones are all I got).

This brings me to a subject I often worry about. I am unaware of my current weight. I used to weigh myself every morning, just to make sure I don’t creep up any higher, but when we started the renovation, the scale got packed away with everything else we own. So I have gone 5 solid months without numerical validation that I am not getting fat. So, I fear that number has creeped up. I don’t think it’s a bunch, but enough for me to feel kinda chubby.

Though I do not have numeric validation of this fact (I am still trying to muster the courage to get the scale out of the basement) yesterday, I had button validation. And I shit you not, this happened JUST like this.

Nacho: Ugh, I feel fat.

Girl I Work With: Oh, I hate it when I feel like that.

Nacho: I’m afraid I’ve gained weight, but I don’t know because my scale is still in storage.

Girl I Work With: Oh, you’d know…you’d feel it in your clothes.

Nacho: Yeah, I guess your right (As I bend down to pick up some bluerprints)

POP!

Nacho: Oh crap.

Girl I work with: What’s wrong?

Nacho: The button just popped off my pants!

Girl I work with: Oh my god, weird!

Nacho: I suppose that’s the sign I was looking for. From your mouth to God’s ears.

Girl I work with: Here, I have a safety pin.

Nacho: Thanks.

So today is the first day of my No More Chinese Food and Pizza Diet. No more Goo either (for those of you who don’t know, Goo is mayo, sour cream, melted cheese, Salad dressing or sort of creamy saucy ranchy type condiment that makes your food moist). Mmmmm… I love goo.

My mom is back at home, which is good. They don't know what is wrong with her, which is bad.

The CATscan and MRI didn't really confirm anything. They are still saying it may have been a "mini" stroke. Frankly, putting that "mini" in front of the word stroke doesn't keep it from scaring the crap out of me. She's still dizzy and is having trouble with her vision. They told her to go to an opthamologist to see if they could figure out what's going on. I spoke with her a little last night and she's in good spirits. She's a little pissy that she can't drive and just all over frustrated about the situation.

Good news is that J and I are going there for Thanksgiving this year, so I get to see her in a couple weeks. My mom and I joked that if she's not feeling better, I may have to cook...yikes! Let's hope not. Not because I don't want to help, but my Mom's Thanksgivings are Yuuuuuummmmmmmyyyyyyy. MMMMMMmmmmmmm. I don't want to be responsible for ruining Thanksgiving. I suppose my Mom could coach me from the sidelines. Oh Lord, that would be a nightmare too. My mom is not the most patient of people.

Hmm, we shall see.

Mommy

I was planning to follow up yesterday’s somewhat self righteous and agitated post with something light and happy and funny. But low and behold, this is not to be.

Yesterday when I got home from work, I saw my Dad had called from his cell phone, but didn’t leave a message. I shrugged, grabbed a soda and sat on the couch to watch Dr. Phil. About an hour and a half later, somewhere near the end of Oprah, the phone rings. It’s my parents home number. I pick up the phone, and to my surprise it’s my Dad’s voice on the other end. You see, my Dad never calls from the ol’ homestead. My mom is always the one to dial and initiate the conversation. Sure, he’ll hop on the phone, say hello and engage in a little chit chat, but he usually let’s my Mom do most of work.

"Hey Dad!,what’s going on?" I say, being jovial, not expecting anything to actually be going on.

"Well, your mother’s in the hospital."

He said this so strangely. Like he couldn’t believe it himself. He said it like he had preceded it with “you’re not going to fucking believe this shit, but “. He sounded astonished.

He quickly included that there is absolutely nothing to worry about and the CAT scan didn’t really show anything (Wha? CAT scan?!) Well, at first they thought that she had a little pre-stroke (huh? Stroke?) , but then Dr. So-and-so came in and said he didn’t think so. So now they are doing a MRI (bah?) and Mom has to stay the night.

Apparently, around 7AM yesterday morning my parents were getting ready to leave to go vote. But as my mom came down the stairs, she complained of dizziness, double visions and some tingling in her fingers. She said she didn’t think she could make it to the car, so my Dad called 911.

So here I am talking to my Dad, nearly 12 hours since this has gone down, concerned but also kinda pissed that this is the first I’m hearing of it. But my concern obviously wins out and drill him with as many questions as I can think of. Unfortunately, he didn’t really know anything…no one seemed to know anything yet.

He gave me the number of her room so I could give her a call.

She sounded…ok. She sounded the same. She wasn’t in any way "off" or slurring or anything, but I did think she sounded scared. She tried to pretend it was no big deal, and the whole time was trying to change the subject. Though I was happy to hear that my Aunt Margie saw the renovation pictures on our renovation blog, it wasn’t really what I was looking to talk about. We talked for a while, but the conversation left me ill at ease. When we said good-bye, I told her I loved her and that seemed to shake her a little.

My family has never been and "I love you" family. Oh, we love each other immensely, but the words are very rarely spoken. I came to terms with that a long time ago and have done my best to overcome the hesitancy to say it in my subsequent relationships. I think my Mother might have taken the verbal-ness of my feelings as some sign of impending doom.

Now I am waiting hear from them. I’ve tried my Dad’s cell, but no one answers. I tried home in the hopes that she’s been discharged, but no answers there either. So I wait, and act all crabby here at work. I also haven’t had a cigarette since Monday and decided the cold turkey is no good and am currently chomping on a piece of Nicorette to ease the edginess – not really working.

I’ll update when I know more.

A post from one of the blogs I regularly read struck a nerve today. It wasn’t so much the actual post, as the comments made about it.

So…some random thoughts. This will not be clear or concise, just emptying my brain so I can get back to work.


As parents, people hope that their children are happy. However, sometimes parents demand that it be the “right” kind of happiness…the "responsible" happiness.

I suppose as parents, the utmost importance is safety. We want our children to be safe first, happy second. Perhaps one is not valuable without the other. But sometimes, our idea of safety can be stifling and oppressive. We want our kids to have steady work and money because we know it will keep a roof over their heads and food in their belly. We want achievement, but when the attainment of success puts them some perceived risk, some parents become unsupportive and judgmental.

Parents believe their children are capable of great achievements, like completing law school or getting into Harvard. Parents encourage hardwork and perseverance in order for their children to realize their “dreams.”

When asked to believe that their children could be a successful artist, or write a best selling novel, some parents become fearful and protective. The possibility that their children may actually want to pursue such an interest scares them, and this fear can turn into anger. It seems that some take it as a personal affront that their child believes in their own talent.

Parents will not always condemn, but they are afraid of encouraging. I suppose talent is harder to criticize than work ethic, especially when you love someone. Failure at Med School can be chalked up to a lack of determination, failure as a writer is a lack of ability? and then they feel remiss if they encouraged it in the first place.

Parents will brag about their kids talents , but when asked to have faith in that talent, a childs dream is quickly shoved into the convenient little box of “hobby.”

I understand the motive, but I hope to be a parent that will support my childs dreams, not expecting some personal pay off or put my worries before their passions.

I rather my child struggle and fail while believing in themselves, than live with regret.

I suppose now I am destined to have a kid who wants to be the next Fred Durst.

Personally, I blame the squirrels

If you wait until everything's perfect...blah, blah, blah

I should be ovulating in the next few days. I have my arsenal of pee sticks at the ready. I checked last night, and no dice – which means I won't be ovulating in the next 24 hours.

Thinking about the success or non-success of this month’s attempt, some timing issues have risen.

#1 THE WEDDING

J's best buddy M is getting married next August. At least that's what we've been told. No invitations out yet or anything, but we have it on good authority that next August will be it.

If we are successful this month, that will put us with a little one in August. And I mean LITTLE*. Not sure, but I don't think it's advisable to fly across country with a 2-week-old. Also, I'm sure the lack of sleep and the high probability that I will be totally freaking out will make it not so appealing. So if we get it done, I doubt I will be attending. J would have to go because he's a groomsman, and M is his spiritual equivalent of a twin brother. I'm a little disappointed because this wedding will be a blast. I am sure the moment J leaves I will explode into jealous fits and sobbing and oh so much pissyness.

However, it may not happen this month. But let's hope it happens within the next 3. If so, that would put me in my 3rd trimester at wedding time. Not only will I be HUGE** and uncomfortable, it is my understanding that you are not supposed to fly during this time. Something with the air pressure and the babies popping out unexpectedly…(?)

J and I talked about it and decided it will not deter our efforts. M does not know about the secret plan to keep me from his nuptials, but I'm sure he will agree it's worth it.

#2 UNBEARABLE ATMOSPHERIC CONDITIONS

Now, if I am to be due anywhere near the month of August, that means I will be at my most bloated, most uncomfortable during the most oppressive and humid time of year. I don’t think I need to say anymore…Ugh.

*is that the visual equivalent of an oxymoron?
**then i suppose this is redundant?

Amusement Park Emotions Part 2: Proletariat Solidarity

So the line for Superman is 3 hours long. We didn’t know that going in, but after an hour it was clear it was going to be a while. I glance around and I see a cross section of American cutlure and class. There are families, couples and teenagers representing the full economic, ethnic, and rudeness spectrum.

Whatever labels may be attached to us, based on our skin color, fashion sense or hygiene, are swept aside. We are all on equal standing, having paid our $37.50 to stand in this line. This extremely long line. We exchange knowing looks and commiserate in our shared boredom. We eavesdrop on each other, check out the attractive people, stare too long at the funny looking people and keep a vigilant eye out for the enemy – the cutter . Line cutting is not permitted and, quite frankly, would get your ass kicked.

That is, unless you dish out an additional $20 for the Qbot! What is a Qbot? It’s a small pager looking device that you scan at a gate and lets you cut in line. Actually I think it pages you when it’s time for you to ride, so you don’t have to stand in line. Or maybe it warps the time/space continuum so that what is 3 hours to me is 7 seconds to you. Regardless, we see these people walk right up to the front of the line and the 16-year-old manning the chain pulls it aside, and lets them ride. Often they glance smuggly at the throngs of people, standing like cattle in our steel piped maze.

Yep, The Six Flags people put the Qbot line in clear veiw of the normal line – which I like to call the "Line of the People". You could feel the tension every time some Qbot wielding person marched up those stairs and hopped right on the coaster. There was unrest amongst the masses. We were paying customers, but that Qbot line was the preverbal lunch counter. While we stand in our corner, waiting for a spot to sit, they saunter right up and finish their meal before we even have a menu in our hands. This is America dammit! Equal opportunity! There was revolution in the air.

But then the line moves 10 feet and we are distracted and scurry forward. Quickly we forget our fantasies of overthrowing the beurgois and their little Qbots of privilege.

In the end, I suppose the opportunity is equal. In America we all have equal opportunity to shell out extra dough for little electronic gizmos that raise our social status. I just don't think it's worth it. But other times, I envy those who do.