This morning I was traveling down the road to work behind a large dump truck. On the back of the truck in bold letters it said, LAND O LAKES RECYCLING. I never like being behind a truck. I slowed my vehicle hoping to place some distance between me and the Goliath truck. Two cars moved in front of me.
All of a sudden a huge projectile flies out of the back of the uncovered dump truck. I swerved to miss the flying debris as did the two cars in front of me. I realized it was only cardboard but it still could have caused an accident. What about motorcycles?
As I continued my journey to work more debris flew out of the back of the dump truck. This scenario lasted the entire time I was behind the truck. This must be a new way to recycle.
I feel that any vehicle that is carrying a load that could possibly fly out and cause havoc or damage the driver needs to be responsible.
Isn't that considered a form of littering? If not it should be.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Utilities unpaid
I thought we had winter guidelines in place to help those in need especially our seniors. I guess we did not. We should be ashamed.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090126/ap_on_re_us/frozen_indoors
In our small neighborhood we look after the seniors. We check on them, take them treats and just sit down and chat with them occasionally. It's like it takes a community to care for the elderly.
How sad this man had to die and such a painful death. I wonder how many more will have to die due to the economy slump? They have adopt a road, adopt a pet, foster a child; why not adopt a senior?
Do your part and enhance someones life. Give without expecting anything in return. Make your heart healthy.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090126/ap_on_re_us/frozen_indoors
In our small neighborhood we look after the seniors. We check on them, take them treats and just sit down and chat with them occasionally. It's like it takes a community to care for the elderly.
How sad this man had to die and such a painful death. I wonder how many more will have to die due to the economy slump? They have adopt a road, adopt a pet, foster a child; why not adopt a senior?
Do your part and enhance someones life. Give without expecting anything in return. Make your heart healthy.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Fresh Squeeeezed
Recently I went on a wonderful winter cruise. An all inclusive - almost. In the huge buffet area I noticed fresh squeezed orange juice. I ran right over there picked up a 4 ounce glass and then read the 'sign'. Fresh squeezed juice $3.99 a glass. An attendant rushed right over to help me with my fresh squeezed juice. I smiled and said, "No thank you."
I felt that was just cheap of the cruise line. Price gouging in my book.
Today, I walked over to my neighbors house and helped her pick fresh oranges and tangerines. I went home with two huge bags of fresh Florida fruit. I took out my trusty juicer and juiced away.
Nothing taste better than fresh squeezed orange and tangerine juice. And to think a cruise line had the audacity to charge almost $4.00 a glass.
http://www.florida-agriculture.com
I felt that was just cheap of the cruise line. Price gouging in my book.
Today, I walked over to my neighbors house and helped her pick fresh oranges and tangerines. I went home with two huge bags of fresh Florida fruit. I took out my trusty juicer and juiced away.
Nothing taste better than fresh squeezed orange and tangerine juice. And to think a cruise line had the audacity to charge almost $4.00 a glass.
http://www.florida-agriculture.com
Thursday, January 22, 2009
The Big Chill
This is the second week in a row where I have had to wear my winter coat. Yes, I understand it's winter. But I live in Florida. The land of sunshine and warm weather. I feel like I have fallen down the hole with Alice. Things are not what they seem or are supposed to be.
I look outside this morning and see frost on my lawn (brown, unwatered) and the windshield of my car. Who goes there? Jack Frost. Well, I say, "Go away."
I'd rather play croquet with the Queen of Hearts. Off with their heads. I'm sure she would not leave her toasty warm castle to behead anyone. Although I have heard castles are cold and drafty and with the price of fuel skyrocketing again, who can afford to heat a castle.
A tea party sounds warm and cozy. Perhaps I shall stay in today and drink hot tea to warm my bones.
Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum will be my playmates. The cat will warm my toes and glare at me with those golden eyes. I will snuggle on the couch with my fluffy rabbit fur throw. I will fall into a deep slumber and be late for a very important date.
I look outside this morning and see frost on my lawn (brown, unwatered) and the windshield of my car. Who goes there? Jack Frost. Well, I say, "Go away."
I'd rather play croquet with the Queen of Hearts. Off with their heads. I'm sure she would not leave her toasty warm castle to behead anyone. Although I have heard castles are cold and drafty and with the price of fuel skyrocketing again, who can afford to heat a castle.
A tea party sounds warm and cozy. Perhaps I shall stay in today and drink hot tea to warm my bones.
Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum will be my playmates. The cat will warm my toes and glare at me with those golden eyes. I will snuggle on the couch with my fluffy rabbit fur throw. I will fall into a deep slumber and be late for a very important date.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Mailer-Daemon
Who is Mailer-Daemon? And why does he return so many of my e-mails? He's not even on my Facebook Friends list. He seems to be very bossy and a know-it-all. His personality is crude, curt and non-responsive.
I guess that happens when you are named after an ancient mythical Greek Spirit. These mythical spirits performed small tasks that the gods could not be bothered with. Hmmm, to me that sounds like the dying middle class in America; working for big brother. Performing tasks that the gods have no time for but have high salaries and do not have to worry about their medical insurance being cancelled.
Mailer-Daemon isn't a super natural creature or a real live person. He's just a piece of computer software that runs an e-mail server. No thoughts of his own, no creativity, no rules to bend or break. He's just doing the boring job that the gods find menial and beneath them.
Watch the movie, 'The Gods Must Be Crazy.'
I guess that happens when you are named after an ancient mythical Greek Spirit. These mythical spirits performed small tasks that the gods could not be bothered with. Hmmm, to me that sounds like the dying middle class in America; working for big brother. Performing tasks that the gods have no time for but have high salaries and do not have to worry about their medical insurance being cancelled.
Mailer-Daemon isn't a super natural creature or a real live person. He's just a piece of computer software that runs an e-mail server. No thoughts of his own, no creativity, no rules to bend or break. He's just doing the boring job that the gods find menial and beneath them.
Watch the movie, 'The Gods Must Be Crazy.'
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Dream Job
I have found my dream job. It lasts for only six months and pays a 6 figure salary. It's in Australia on a stunning island. The duties entail snorkeling, wandering the beach, having fun, getting a tan, blogging and talking to the media on ocaasion about this fabulous island. I can do this job and love every minute I'm working.
There will be no calling in sick to spend the day at the beach. There will be no rules to follow or paperwork to hand in by 4 pm. There will be no staff meetings or boring trainings. Life will be a beach.
I'm already a certified diver, avid snorkeler and blogger - so they should hire me. I'm wondering if the competion for the job will be tough? I certainly hope not as I want this job. They even have the internet. I can image myself lying in the hammock with my laptop, fruity drink (non-alcoholic) in my hand, barefoot with the sun warming my sun bronzed body, seagulls flying over head. Well, maybe not those sea gulls.
There will be no calling in sick to spend the day at the beach. There will be no rules to follow or paperwork to hand in by 4 pm. There will be no staff meetings or boring trainings. Life will be a beach.
I'm already a certified diver, avid snorkeler and blogger - so they should hire me. I'm wondering if the competion for the job will be tough? I certainly hope not as I want this job. They even have the internet. I can image myself lying in the hammock with my laptop, fruity drink (non-alcoholic) in my hand, barefoot with the sun warming my sun bronzed body, seagulls flying over head. Well, maybe not those sea gulls.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Bubbles Square
It was the third week of the hot boring summer. I lay in the grass with the heat bearing down upon me reading the worn torn teen magazine. My sister, baby that she was cuddled her doll. I wasn’t a doll kind of girl. Give me a book a baseball or a pile of sand any day. My little brother the real baby sat in a small metal tub splashing water on Dottie. Dottie, one of the numerous babysitters we went through ignored him as she painted her toes a vibrant shade of red.
“Too flashy, makes a girl look trashy,” were mom’s words.
I believe Dottie needed the ‘too flashy’ pointing to her toes on account of her face was etched with pock marks and crevices. I think her face must have resembled her life. Mom brought her home one day, offered her a room and a job of watching 5 unruly kids. She didn’t seem to mind. She smiled and you kind of overlooked the face. Dottie made us frozen pops and yummy Jell-O salad. As a babysitter she was one of the better ones. None of the babysitters lasted too long at our house.
Dottie was different. She had no place to go. Mom talked about saving her from the streets and bad parents. Dottie didn’t talk much about her family life. She did like to talk about the boys and at times she did more than talk. Those times we were sent outside to play. I was left to watch the two little ones and that did not please me. But I would never tell on Dottie.
Sometimes late at night I would hear Dottie crying herself to sleep. In the morning over a cold cereal breakfast I would study Dottie’s faded blue eyes. There was a sad story behind them but to me said nothing. I heard mom talking about Dottie’s mom being a drunk like Uncle Clarence and amounted to just, “No good.”
Momma told Black Pearl, which was Uncle George’s slut girlfriend, another term I heard from momma: that Dottie had lots of baggage that hindered her self-esteem. Funny thing was I never saw Dottie bring any bags into the house when momma moved her in.
I felt close to Dottie, she could make me laugh and on some rainy nights she would sing to the three of us kids. There was a deep sadness about Dottie but she had plenty of love for us kids.
Before Dottie we had Smitty. He was an old grumpy man who walked with a cane and had a cantankerous little wiener dog. It seemed like we took better care of Smitty than he ever did. Most of the time he sat and watched T.V. and wheezed a lot and bossed me around saying, “Go get me kool-aid, hurry up now you little brat.”
My brothers worked that summer so they were gone most days. It was just me my little sister and Georgie, the baby. Old Smitty never so much as changed his diaper. And his stupid dog used to hump his leg and he would curl his lower lip and let out a laugh.
I thought old Smitty was disgusting and evil. He got his own private room for watching us that summer. And he got me to wait on him whenever he needed anything. That’s the summer I learned how to cook: tomato soup right out of the can, bread and butter sandwiches and red kool-aid.
One morning after mom and dad left Smitty didn’t come out of his room wanting his coffee and toast. I fed the kids cold cereal and bananas. We stayed outside for awhile and waited for my two older brothers to come home. I was so glad when I saw them walking up the road. I picked up Georgie, grabbed Mae by the hand and ran to meet them.
Between my huffing and puffing I blurted out, “Old Smitty has been in his room all day. He never did come out for his coffee. You think he’s dead or something.”
Harry said, “Hope’s the old fart is dead or run away. But how far can an old man limping on his cane with a stupid dog stuck to his leg go?”
“I’m scared Harry. Did you guys do something dreadful to Smitty?”
“We mighta put poison in his red kool-aid,” Harry laughed.
“That’s not funny Harry. What will mom and dad say?”
“They’ll just find another loser to watch after us,” Harry shuffled toward the house.
I stood on the sidewalk holding Georgie and Mae. I had a bad feeling inside my guts.
Harry knocked on the door and yelled, “Hey Smitty, want to come out?”
There was no answer, even the dog didn’t bark. I made canned soup for all of us.
“You don’t put two cans of water to one can of soup,” snapped Harry.
“I’m doing the best I can.”
Before Smitty was the mean old lady and I don’t even remember her name. I do remember she spanked my little brother. She would put him in the room shut the door and let him cry. I started yelling at her calling her names, making idle threats. My two older brothers did stuff to her car. I never told my parents about what she did. My brothers fixed her big time and she went away like most of the sitters and never came back. I remember the cops showing up and speaking quietly to my parents after the old hag left. My brothers hid beneath the kitchen window listening to the cops and laughed real quiet like.
Then, Dottie came to watch us and she let my two older brothers roam the streets but kept close tabs on the rest of us. Sometimes I saw her let the older boys puff on her cigarette. We liked Dottie. I felt bad about her nasty family. Sometimes I would hear her talking to mom about it and she would cry like a whipped puppy.
“Too flashy, makes a girl look trashy,” were mom’s words.
I believe Dottie needed the ‘too flashy’ pointing to her toes on account of her face was etched with pock marks and crevices. I think her face must have resembled her life. Mom brought her home one day, offered her a room and a job of watching 5 unruly kids. She didn’t seem to mind. She smiled and you kind of overlooked the face. Dottie made us frozen pops and yummy Jell-O salad. As a babysitter she was one of the better ones. None of the babysitters lasted too long at our house.
Dottie was different. She had no place to go. Mom talked about saving her from the streets and bad parents. Dottie didn’t talk much about her family life. She did like to talk about the boys and at times she did more than talk. Those times we were sent outside to play. I was left to watch the two little ones and that did not please me. But I would never tell on Dottie.
Sometimes late at night I would hear Dottie crying herself to sleep. In the morning over a cold cereal breakfast I would study Dottie’s faded blue eyes. There was a sad story behind them but to me said nothing. I heard mom talking about Dottie’s mom being a drunk like Uncle Clarence and amounted to just, “No good.”
Momma told Black Pearl, which was Uncle George’s slut girlfriend, another term I heard from momma: that Dottie had lots of baggage that hindered her self-esteem. Funny thing was I never saw Dottie bring any bags into the house when momma moved her in.
I felt close to Dottie, she could make me laugh and on some rainy nights she would sing to the three of us kids. There was a deep sadness about Dottie but she had plenty of love for us kids.
Before Dottie we had Smitty. He was an old grumpy man who walked with a cane and had a cantankerous little wiener dog. It seemed like we took better care of Smitty than he ever did. Most of the time he sat and watched T.V. and wheezed a lot and bossed me around saying, “Go get me kool-aid, hurry up now you little brat.”
My brothers worked that summer so they were gone most days. It was just me my little sister and Georgie, the baby. Old Smitty never so much as changed his diaper. And his stupid dog used to hump his leg and he would curl his lower lip and let out a laugh.
I thought old Smitty was disgusting and evil. He got his own private room for watching us that summer. And he got me to wait on him whenever he needed anything. That’s the summer I learned how to cook: tomato soup right out of the can, bread and butter sandwiches and red kool-aid.
One morning after mom and dad left Smitty didn’t come out of his room wanting his coffee and toast. I fed the kids cold cereal and bananas. We stayed outside for awhile and waited for my two older brothers to come home. I was so glad when I saw them walking up the road. I picked up Georgie, grabbed Mae by the hand and ran to meet them.
Between my huffing and puffing I blurted out, “Old Smitty has been in his room all day. He never did come out for his coffee. You think he’s dead or something.”
Harry said, “Hope’s the old fart is dead or run away. But how far can an old man limping on his cane with a stupid dog stuck to his leg go?”
“I’m scared Harry. Did you guys do something dreadful to Smitty?”
“We mighta put poison in his red kool-aid,” Harry laughed.
“That’s not funny Harry. What will mom and dad say?”
“They’ll just find another loser to watch after us,” Harry shuffled toward the house.
I stood on the sidewalk holding Georgie and Mae. I had a bad feeling inside my guts.
Harry knocked on the door and yelled, “Hey Smitty, want to come out?”
There was no answer, even the dog didn’t bark. I made canned soup for all of us.
“You don’t put two cans of water to one can of soup,” snapped Harry.
“I’m doing the best I can.”
Before Smitty was the mean old lady and I don’t even remember her name. I do remember she spanked my little brother. She would put him in the room shut the door and let him cry. I started yelling at her calling her names, making idle threats. My two older brothers did stuff to her car. I never told my parents about what she did. My brothers fixed her big time and she went away like most of the sitters and never came back. I remember the cops showing up and speaking quietly to my parents after the old hag left. My brothers hid beneath the kitchen window listening to the cops and laughed real quiet like.
Then, Dottie came to watch us and she let my two older brothers roam the streets but kept close tabs on the rest of us. Sometimes I saw her let the older boys puff on her cigarette. We liked Dottie. I felt bad about her nasty family. Sometimes I would hear her talking to mom about it and she would cry like a whipped puppy.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Gum Police
Recently I traveled to Cozumel, Mexico for vacation. I was not aware of their 'gum laws'. We were traveling down a highway along the coast and I spit out my used tasteless gum. Perhaps it landed on the road or along the side of the road in the grass. It did not hit a sidewalk because there were no sidewalks. I only do this distastefull stunt when in a moving vehicle. I occasionally spit and drive. Never would I use a sidewalk.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090107/ap_on_re_la_am_ca/lt_mexico_gummed_up
Apparently there is a crusade in Mexico to rid the area of used gum. I swear I did not think about this being a crime or a violation against the environment. I have seen the light and will never spit out tasteless used gum on any area in Mexico or any other country. I will continue to look over my shoulder for the Gum Police brigade.
Isn't gum a natural product that could only add value to a desolate land? I do see their point of gum sticking to the sole of one's shoe and finding a rare specimen on the underside of a table.
I wonder if the next ban on products hitting the street will be the 'loooogy'?
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090107/ap_on_re_la_am_ca/lt_mexico_gummed_up
Apparently there is a crusade in Mexico to rid the area of used gum. I swear I did not think about this being a crime or a violation against the environment. I have seen the light and will never spit out tasteless used gum on any area in Mexico or any other country. I will continue to look over my shoulder for the Gum Police brigade.
Isn't gum a natural product that could only add value to a desolate land? I do see their point of gum sticking to the sole of one's shoe and finding a rare specimen on the underside of a table.
I wonder if the next ban on products hitting the street will be the 'loooogy'?
Monday, January 5, 2009
Single mom with 4 kids
In Florida and around our great country there is desperation and dysfunction. The economy has tanked and left many of us in gloom, doom and despair. But even before that episode colored our lives Florida was overflowing with homeless and the downtrodden. Men stand on street corners with their cardboard signs and unshaven faces. Begging - soliciting for whatever including a stiff drink. Some even write on their signs - 'I need a drink, why lie'.
I have driven by and looked away pocketing the image in the deep recesses of my life. Thinking bad thoughts of them and focusing on how good my life is. I mean - get a job - stop drinking and doing drugs - my thoughts and sometimes my words slip out. Bums - lowlife - scums. Stop tainting my corner with your issues and problems that most likely you caused yourself. Go away. My selfish thoughts.
Yesterday as I was traveling down a very busy Florida highway I spotted a sign holder. As I drew closer I realized the sign holder was female. And her sign was printed in perfect handwriting. 'Single mom with four kids', was all I could read as I passed her by. The arrow pierced my soul and I thought something must be done and I drove away. The image is burned inside my heart like a tattoo proudly displayed on a muscular forearm.
Bum, lowlife and scum have faded from my jagged perception. We need help, we the people of this great country need a bailout. Somewhere her four little children suffer along with so many others. The lighbulb has gone off and I now know what one of my New Year's resolution will be.
I have driven by and looked away pocketing the image in the deep recesses of my life. Thinking bad thoughts of them and focusing on how good my life is. I mean - get a job - stop drinking and doing drugs - my thoughts and sometimes my words slip out. Bums - lowlife - scums. Stop tainting my corner with your issues and problems that most likely you caused yourself. Go away. My selfish thoughts.
Yesterday as I was traveling down a very busy Florida highway I spotted a sign holder. As I drew closer I realized the sign holder was female. And her sign was printed in perfect handwriting. 'Single mom with four kids', was all I could read as I passed her by. The arrow pierced my soul and I thought something must be done and I drove away. The image is burned inside my heart like a tattoo proudly displayed on a muscular forearm.
Bum, lowlife and scum have faded from my jagged perception. We need help, we the people of this great country need a bailout. Somewhere her four little children suffer along with so many others. The lighbulb has gone off and I now know what one of my New Year's resolution will be.
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