Back In The Saddle

I got most of the things I wanted moved over the Thanksgiving week moved, so the game plan is to fit whatever else needs to be done in on weekends, evenings, or odd free points during the day (in order of preference).  So like the title says, I’m back in the saddle when it comes to writing the rest of the book . . . which is appropriate.

I FEEL like I’ve been in the saddle for a week as it is.

(I was originally planning to elaborate on that, but I bored myself WRITING it . . . I can only imagine how bad it would have been to READ!  I spent a week moving a lot of boxes, I’m sore . . . nuff said.)

Happy Black (Death) Friday

Here’s to everyone who has to work with the maddened crowd today.

This candle’s for you.  (And here’s a cookie . . . and another cookie, and a pony . . . and a shot of bourbon . . . make that two shots of bourbon . . .)

(I used to work retail you see . . .)

Something I’m Thankful For . . .

Hmmmm . . . let me see . . . this year I’m thankful for:

My Traci Lords trading cards.

(Something I stumbled upon while moving.  No link because if you don’t know who she is, it’s funnier to me if you find out for yourself.)

So this candle is for Ms. Lords and the holiday.  No matter who you are or your opinion of the origin of this holiday, it’s still not a bad idea to take some time to think about the things you’re thankful for.

How to MAKE it worse

Nothing quite like staggering down the steps under the weight of a heavy moving box for the umpteenth time and hearing someone say “Moving boxes sure are heavy, aren’t they?”

To which my only response is “Dim Mak, the legendary touch of death, sure is fatal, isn’t it?”

(Perilously close to a curse, I know, but I’m cutting myself some slack for just THINKING about, and not actually USING Dim Mak, the legendary touch of death.)

Could Be Worse

A text conversation I’d been having throughout the day eventually culminated in my making the statement (paraphrased):  What I’m craving most right now is a bevy of naked girls who desire to fulfill my every whim no matter HOW dirty . . . which at the moment would involve cleaning, packing, and moving boxes on my behalf.

Even as I typed that I realized that it would probably be easier to talk a group of naked girls into sex than it would be to talk them into helping me move.

I can live with that.

A Classic Mistake

Not long ago I warned someone who was certain she was FAR too young for this apply to her for some time yet, that there would come a day when she would hear one of her favorite songs/bands on the radio being referred to as a “classic.”

Today I got the text saying, and I quote, “How is NIRVANA considered ‘classic rock’?!?” (Emphasis mine because I know that’s how she would have said it.)

Let the record show, I DID warn her.

Military Falsisms (Part Eight and FINAL, I Promise!)

As I’ve rambled through this topic over the past two weeks, I think it’s fair to say that I’ve covered it “thoroughly” (other adjectives might also apply, but let’s keep the adjectives on the kind side).   Even so, I’ve a few parting thoughts ranging from summations of the important points to last minute clarifications;  In no particular order:

1.  You can learn through failure IF you let yourself.  So can others, and particularly with others, beware of reactions to failure that are far in excess of the consequences of the failure itself.   Oh . . . you’ll certainly teach them SOMETHING, mind you, but they may not learn what you think you’re teaching.   

2.  If you’ve NEVER failed, you’ve never sufficiently challenged yourself.  This ALSO applies to others.

3.  Sometimes, in the same sense of the idiom “There may not always be someone to vote FOR, but there’s always someone to vote AGAINST,” a choice of failures will be your only options . . . but you can still do a lot even with those choices . . . again IF you let yourself.

4.  Believe it or not, this topic doesn’t have anything to do with my book challenge, even though I admit I DO have my backup plans and rankings in place for “partial successes,” they’ve been part of my planning from the beginning.  (Current assessment of my status on that front, by the way, is “Still in the running.”)

It was inspired by a game I was (and still am, though my time for it has been limited of late) attempting to master.  Funny how much mileage I’ve gotten from it, but I’m actually grateful for that . . . failure is the sort of topic I do best with frequent reminders from myself on, because while I may RESPECT failure . . . I haven’t developed a way to LOVE it yet.  Maybe with more time and less ego I’ll even manage to pull that one off.

But for now . . . respect will have to suffice.

A Half Glassed Job

Sorry for yet ANOTHER interruption, but let me put it to you this way:

Years ago in a discussion about the perennial “Is the glass half empty or half full to you?” question, it was pointed in my case at the time, the answer was “Everything around me is on fire, and I’ve only got half a glass of water to put it out with, so call it what you will.”

This morning started with a modest plume of smoke outside my building (Best guess, it was careless smokers tossing their cigarettes into an area of damp, but not damp enough, landscaping . . . the fire had probably been smoldering for hours by the looks of it), and I ended up dousing it as best I could by ferrying half glasses of lake water (that being the amount I could gather from the lake, the only nearby watersource, without falling in) until the fire department could be contacted.

That’s not only irony . . . that’s been my week.  (Though, for the record, the rest of my day was MUCH more pleasant . . . it just didn’t allow room for me getting much work done.)

Back to work tomorrow though.

Military Falsisms (Part Seven)

“Part seven.”  REALLY?  Wow!  I can’t believe this has gone on so long . . .

Relax, I’m just funning with you; I remember I stopped mid story yesterday . . . honest.

So . . . there I am, nothing but a choice of failures before me, and my passenger screaming her head (and my ears) off.

No pressure.

I’ve always been proud that I didn’t freeze up or do something impulsive/stupid like trying to swerve off the road and put my passenger’s life at risk.  At the time though, I was more than a bit disturbed how easily and consciously I made my literally split second choice. 

I knew I couldn’t kill the mother cat . . . she needed to live to care for the kittens.  So I moved toward the middle of the road (my one break was there was no oncoming traffic) and did my level best to drive so the tires went BETWEEN the kittens.

Against the odds, I actually succeeded.

Unfortunately . . . the muffler was low on this vehicle;  I doubt I need to elaborate.

Total injuries:  None.  Total casualties:  One kitten.

Granted that was still one too many (I’m by no means a cat person, but the little guy didn’t do anything to me.), but it was better than I was expecting.

Not world shaking stuff, I admit (though I imagine the kitten’s opinion on that would differ), but over the years it’s prompted a lot of thinking on my part about no win situations.

Military Falsisms (Part Six)

I want to make it clear up front that this story is true; I want to make this clear in no small part because this tale simply wouldn’t be credible if I tried to pass it off as fiction.

I’d only had my driver’s license a few years at this time, but I’d also had my first (and only serious) accident to date (Story for another time.) by this time, so I’d learned the value of care while driving, meaning I was doing the speed limit of 35 M.P.H.  It was dark, and I had just crested a small ridge in the road; I had one passenger (Yes, a girl.) but I was keeping my primary attention on the road (It had been SOME accident!). 

Which is the only reason I saw the cats at all. 

Just on the other side of the ridge (and perfectly hidden by it in the darkness) was a string of cats . . . a mother in the lead and almost off the road (but still on it and directly in my path) followed by a tight string of kittens ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE ROAD!

Hitting the breaks was out of the question, they were too close  for that to help.  To add to the fun, there were ditches to either side of me, deep enough to ensure a desperate attempt to swerve would have wrecked the vehicle and put my life and my passenger’s life at risk despite the seat belts we had on (I’m not kidding; it had been SOME accident!).  Heck . . . even without the ditches I’d probably have flipped the vehicle if I’d tried (it was top heavy).  

In other words, there was nowhere to go, and no way to win.

My passenger screamed . . .

(To Be Continued.)