What Song Speaks to You?

For me, right now, it's Kenny Chesney's "You and Tequila".   

Glad to Be Back from Vacation

Well, we just got back from a week on the Carnival Triumph, which was a blast.  I am glad to be home though.  Most of the past week has been a series of 'what-if' scenarios for me that usually result in me wondering if people would consider me suicidal if they could read my mind.  I really hope I'm not the only one who does this. 
For example, I spent an inordinate amount of time watching the water from my stateroom's balcony.  The water was beautiful and deep deep blue.  The ship cutting through the waves made peaceful-looking whitecaps 6 stories below me.  I couldn't help but contemplate what it would be like to climb over the balcony railing and take a swan dive into the water beneath me, and then how the moments that follow such a move would unfold. 
Would I flail around wildly and survive for a few minutes before becoming shark bait?
Would I die before the sharks got me or would I have to tread water waiting in vain for someone to rescue me, only to be eaten up anyway?
Would I die instantly upon hitting the water?
Would the water be icy cold or warm or somewhere in between?   Would I even feel it?
How long would it take before anyone noticed?
What if I did it while my husband was out getting us a drink?  How long would it take him to begin looking, panic-stricken, for his missing wife?   How long would he allow himself to believe that I had simply stepped out to use the internet cafe or play the slot machines in the casino downstairs.  Would he first assume that I had taken up with another man in another state-room, or would he assume that I had jumped overboard?  Which of these would I find more offensive, and which would be worse for him to have to believe?

These thoughts consumed whole chunks of time while I was on the cruise.  So I am glad to be back because now I am back to my normal routine in my normal house, where the temptation to come up with new and wild scenarios is less compelling. 

By the way, I'm not suicidal.  I believe this is just the morbid version of what kids do when they wonder what would happen if they stood up on the library table during study hall and shouted "I Hate My English Teacher!" or something like that.   It's fun to imagine outrageous scenarios and try to decide what you would do if they happened.  For instance I sometimes ask Adam what he would do if an airplane fell out of the sky and landed in the lake next to us while we are out on the boat, or what he would do if the dam collapsed as we drove over it, our only two options being drive toward the water and into the lake or drive away from the water and over the other side of the dam.   However, I'm glad that my imagination only stretches so far, because I've exhausted most of the crazy at home already, so I'm free to go back to just being my normal self for awhile, instead of being overwhelmed by all manner of opportunities for mayhem which surround you while on vacation. 

The Walk to End Alzheimers

On November 5th, a Saturday, the Alzheimers Association is holding a Walk To End Alzheimers in Bell County, Texas (Temple, to be exact) to raise funds and awareness for Alzheimers research and support.  This is a special cause, one near to my heart and to the hearts of many of my friends and family. 

Our team name is "Great Memories" and we are walking in honor of my dear friend Lori's aunt, who just recently passed away as a result of Alzheimers.  In addition we are walking in memory of my beloved late grandmother Alice and the beloved late grandmother of my dear friend Lisa. 

These women touched the lives of many.  I don't know near enough about my friends' loved ones.  I do, however, know my 'Grammy' - who was a strong and opinionated woman who loved her daughters and their families.  Her life was full - she had many adventures and a successful and important career in nursing.  She raised three successful and beautiful daughters.  She was wife to my dear grandfather, Jack, who loved her fiercely - more than any man in the love stories we all sometimes wish our lives resembled. 

She was funny and dynamic.  Her stories were full of suspense and heart.  Her home was alive with the sounds of friends and family.  She decorated the most beautiful Christmas tree and baked the most delicious sweet potatoes at Thanksgiving.  I would have given anything to get married in her backyard, with her and my grandfather standing next to my parents as I said my vows.

Now, I remember her and wish I could spend an evening with her as she was before she became afflicted with Alzheimers disease.   I would like to hear her stories again and soak them in the way I never did when I was younger.   I wish I could tell her about my husband and our friends, our life in Texas and the career path I chose for myself.  Mostly I wish I could hug her one last time and tell her, unequivocally, how much I love her and how much I regret that her life remains largely a mystery to me, because - as most young people - I didn't pay enough attention while I had her with me.   

Alzheimers disease destroyed my grandmother's mind and - eventually - her body, but it can never take away the fond memories we all have of her in our hearts and will never lessen the love I have for her.      Every year Alzheimers disease claims the minds of our loved ones.  Together, we can fight back and help further research efforts and support groups for caregivers who give up their lives, as they know them, to help their loved ones maintain their way of life as long as they can.

Ghost Stories

This evening I was reading this story (http://news.yahoo.com/clinton-road-jersey-most-terrifying-road-u-194000764.html?bouchon=504,pa) about the "most haunted road in America" which according to the author is in West Milford, NJ.    Apparently when one drives down the road, headlights appear out of nowhere and follow the car aggressively, only to disappear upon reaching a main thoroughfare or another car showing up.  Reading this story triggered some very fond (and scary!) memories I have of ghost stories and the fantastical tricks they can play on your mind and shape your opinions of certain places.

West Chester, PA and the surrounding area is quite historic and, if one is inclined, it's not hard to believe in ghosts.  My roomates and I even believed our own house was haunted for a little while, following a drunken viewing of Donnie Darko, and then an even more drunken viewing of The Shining.  The doorbell doesn't ring itself people.   And balloons dont' just float up stairs on their own.  Well... okay maybe they do.  But the point is we were convinced we had a ghost named Frank, inspired by the creepy rabbit on Donnie Darko.  Once the word got out that we might be believers, all manner of ghost-story-telling weirdos showed up at our doorsteps - mainly my boyfriend-at-the-time and his creepy friend who lived in a "haunted" mansion up the street. 

Two ghost stories that stuck with me are the "The Twin Tunnels" and the "Gates of Hell" (which I will forever remember as the road that is so evil that trees grow away from it.      

Too many times, our morbid little group packed ourselves into a car and traveled to "The Twin Tunnels" - a remote road in an industrial area where for some reason the road become a tunnel for a couple hundred yards.  Supposedly, a girl was once walking home from work through this tunnel and was attacked and hanged from an exposed pipe in the middle of the tunnel.  The story was if you stopped your car in the tunnel, it would turn off (thanks to the ghost!) and you would not be able to turn it back on.  Being the brave adventurers we were, of course, we would gun it through the tunnel - not stopping - and occassionally turn off our headlights as we went through, for effect.  I don't think we ever mustered the courage to actually test the story and turn the car off in the middle of the tunnel.  Oh - and part of the story as it was told to me was that this was the location where a very popular 80s band recorded one of their very popular songs, where one can supposedly hear the very same woman being murdered in the background.  Really - a multi-million dollar rock band chose a rundown industrial site in Southeastern Pennsylvania for their insanely popular song recording and were lax enough about security that a deranged killer and a lone young woman could just be walking through it while they were in the middle of recording?  Doubt it.   Still can't believe I bought that one - but worse still is that to this day I listen for screams in the background of the song whenever I hear it on the radio.   At any rate, I don't care if it's haunted or not - driving through that tunnel in the dead of night, especially with no headlights, was downright terrifying.  Add to it the element of a few 20-something girls who are predisposed to drama and excitement, and you have the perfect "haunted house" vibe without having to do anything but fill up your gas tank.

On to the next... - the road that's so evil the trees grow away from it, also known as the Gates of Hell.  What a foolish notion to believe and yet we soaked it up like the truth it clearly wasn't.  Supposedly the reason the road was so evil is that at the end of it was an estate where a murder/suicide had occurred, and where frequent murders and cult gatherings occurred after the house was abandoned.  I was also told a baby had been stuffed into an opening in one of the petrified trees, and that the original murdered family had been dumped in the lake on the property and were still there.  The game was to drive the entire length of the very creepy and out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere road (which was only wide enough for one vehicle), pass the "gates", get to the house, walk up to the house, and then run back to the car.  Supposedly if you even got past the gates your car would stall and you would have to run up the haunted driveway and back.  Oh - and let us not forget the band of satanic motorcyclist killers who would be waiting in the woods to come after us on our way in and out (also part of the story).

Considering we wouldn't even turn our car off in the middle of the Twin Tunnels, it's a wonder we ever tested this story.  But we did - one October night we piled in and headed off to drive the evil road and visit the evil gates of hell.  Naturally it had to be October and was likely a day or two before or after Halloween.  What were we trying to prove I wonder?  Of course it was fun.   Nervous giggles were about all that could be heard the entire way there and back.  The road was narrow, with a steep drop off on one side and a forest on the other.  You had to make a 3-point turn to change direcction.  We didnt' even make it halfway to the supposed house of horrors.  Halfway there, I got nervous and decided I had to pee - right there in the middle of a road so horrifying that even the trees were actively trying to get away from it.   (take note - the trees did actually grow away from the road but of course that doesn't mean the road is evil - but you can see how it lent some credibility to the story and gave us all a cheap thrill)  We used that as our excuse to turn around and book it on out of there (after I peed of course).  We never even saw the rumoured blood red gates at the entrance of the murderous property.

What's astonishing to me is that I was willing to put my life into actual danger by traveling all manner of seriously dangerous roads in order to get the thrill of a haunting, but was too scared to go to a publicly sanctioned haunted house like the Eastern State Penitentiary??  Explain that!

Ghost Hunters we were not, but they sure were fun times and a good way to pass the cold fall evenings.   I cannot foresee a time in the future when I will drive through certain areas of southeastern PA without recalling the ghost stories we exchanged that fall.

What ghost stories will you remember (fondly, I hope) forever?

Manufacturers are Messing With Us.

Why Why Why ... when I want something to be filled to the brim - like a box of cereal or pasta - it comes less than half full but liquids packaging comes filled up so high that when you remove the cap it squirts out at you and gets all over your clothes and counter??    Plus I NEVER drink all of the milk but I REGULARLY eat all of the salt and vinegar potato chips.

No Kids - Lots of Fundraisers

My husband reminded me the other day that we get solicited a lot for fundraisers for our friends' kids.  He wasn't complaining, just commenting on the irony that because we have chosen not to have children of our own we must seem like good candidates to shell out money for others peoples'.  Perhaps because people assume we have a lot of disposable income since we're not pouring our paychecks into kids clothes and baby food and such.  Which is understandable. 

I wonder if this is something that all young, 'dual-income no kids'families experience, or if we are just such a charming and friendly couple that people feel comfortable to approach us with their kids' fundraisers (or in rare cases, have their kids do it themselves).  For those of you reading this who I have recently bought something from - don't get me wrong or feel like I am complaining!  I actually quite enjoy contributing to these fundraisers.  It makes me feel, in some tiny way, like I'm helping.   My choice to not have children does not make me a heartless ogre who hates kids.   It just means I don't want them around all the time and I suspect that I wouldn't enjoy it.  Instead, I get to hang out with my friends' and brothers' kids on occasion and buy them presents which I normally am too lazy to forget to mail.   Then I get to go home, sit down in my uncluttered house, and throw back a bottle of glass of wine in complete silence.    But seriously, I dont' want to spend my hard-earned money on overpriced wrapping paper.  I want cookies.  Or wine.  If there was a wine fundraiser, I would be all over that shit.  Take note, parents.  Take note.

I am just not cut out for manual labor.

 When my husband and I moved to Texas, we chose a house that was quite hideous on the outside, specifically because there was an empty lot next door that we hoped we could buy one day and make our own.  We did buy that overgrown mangy forest of a lot and 2 years later we (he) cleared all the trees and brush and assorted garbage on it in order to build a garage.  I got out of that because I was working on my masters degree.  A year after that, we (he) built a garage on that lot.  I got out of that because I was studying for the LEED exam.   Six months later we paid someone to come out and grade the rest of the lot, spread top soil, and broadcast seed it so that we can grow some grass and make it look nice.  I got out of that because this job was too big for us and we don't have a tractor or a five man crew, so we paid someone to do it.  So, as you can see, so far  I have been quite lucky to get out of all the hard work going on outside by pretending to study and actually watching Lifetime movies and drinking wine.

I should have known this lucky streak would end someday.

This weekend, I was forced to spend a torturous Saturday hunched over in the blinding Texas sun spreading stinky straw over my beautifully graded and seeded yard and then drenching it in water so that grass will grow.  This doesn't sound like hard work, which is why I didn't come up with an excuse to get out of it; also because I'm out of tests to study for and I really don't want to go back to school.    But it actually is very hard work, hauling bales of straw all over God's creation my yard and trying to make a nice even layer.    It actually didn't take that long, but then I had to go to a party, for which I had been baking bread all day (Damn I am good! - baking bread and yardwork at the same time?~!).     So all in one day I did backbreaking manual labor, made some lovely homemade baked goods, and visited with friends.  I'd say that is pretty rare impressive. 

However, today I can barely walk because my back hurts so bad from hunching over and carrying around those heavy loads.  I had to roll out of my car this morning at Target because I couldn't get out the normal way.  Of course, I still mustered the strength and physical capacity to go to Target.  Duh.  Also my arms are all scratched up in the manner of an addict and I sort of look like i have a contagious form of hives. 

So I think the moral of the story is that yard work, particularly the hard kind and not the kind I usually do which is arranging cute figurines in my flower beds, is no good.  Because the bread was awful and I had to leave the party early and my arms are going to look funky when I go on vacation.  Had it not been for the manual labor, my bread would have been kick ass and I coudl have stayed out all night.    At least that is what I tried telling my husband today when we left Target - to which he merely grunted and reminded me that getting home at midnight does not constitute leaving a party early.   Tiny silver lining - my tan got a little better and maybe I burned some calories.