This "weekend" (Wednesday/Thursday for us) was treated to a visit from my parents. It was great getting to just spend time relaxing together. There's never the pressure to go go go and do do do. We can just sit in the same room, reading magazines and enjoying each other's company. My dad gave me an enormous stack of Handyman magazines, and just a mere glance in their direction has made me fired up for building stuff. It doesn't even matter what. I just want to build. Someday, I will have my own piece of dirt in the country and will build the ultimate project, a home, with these two hands I use to type. I would love to buy a little old shack of house that I can just buy outright and then use the money I would have spent on the mortgage for slowly building my custom home. Save a little, build a little, save a little, build a little...until it's finished. Ah, to completely own my own home on my own dirt with my own plants, dog, cat, chickens, goat, dairy cow, bees and whatever else and not owe a stinkin' dime to anybody. Someday!

Its Not All Grey's Anatomy

I spent last night with a fat prostitute. Let's just say this foul smelling woman set a new standard in my book of all things crude, rude and socially unacceptable. She was a jail inmate medical transfer, and to make things worse, we were attended by the world's most impersonal ill mannered hospital staff. At one point, I politely informed a nurse, "Hey, our lady (I use that word in its loosest sense) really needs to go to the restroom."

The nurse slapped down her papers, gave me her most put-out expression and said, "The bathroom is right around the corner."

"Um, she can't really walk and she is hooked up to an IV," I replied.

"Look!" The long nosed nurse exclaimed, standing up quickly in a show of aggression to reveal her full 5' 2" blue scrubbed frame, "We have two trauma helicopters coming in right now. We don't have time to deal with this!"

"Oh alright," I said calmly, "I guess no one on the hospital staff ever planned for there to be more than three patients at once in here."

"Just handle it!" And then she stormed off to spit venom at someone else.

I slowly walked back over to my partner who was seated in our curtained area paying about as much attention to our screaming patient/inmate as the semi-comatose elderly man lying next to her. "This place sucks," I say. He looks up briefly before returning to his phone video game.

"You better get someone quick, or I'm peeing in this ******* trashcan!"

"No don't do that," I plead, "Just because you are criminal doesn't mean you have to be a complete savage." This comment was followed with a level of verbal filth reserved for the darkest corners of society. This incredibly stinky woman had been to those corners. I guess more precisely she worked those corners. As she continued spilling verbal sewage, she slowly slid to the edge of the bed and started to stand. I ran over grabbed her arm and said, "Let's try to walk over to the bathroom." One wobbly vertigo step later we both realized the bathroom wasn't happening.

"I'm going! I'm going!" she screamed.

"Quick," I say to my partner, "Grab that bedside toilet by that dude's bed." He gloves up, grabs the pot and drags it over to us. I open the lid revealing a small trickle of urine already left inside.

"I'm not using that!" Then she turned her now naked enormous behind around, sat down on the trash can and began to urinate. "Don't just stand there officer! Go get me some tissue!"

Looking the opposite way and praying to God my peripheral vision would not betray me by allowing me to see any of the disgusting sight I informed her that I had no idea where bathroom tissue was kept in this place because, "...I don't work here and no where in my job description is helping a woman take a piss in a trash can!" Fortunately, my partner noticed a paper towel dispenser in the hall and grabbed a wad of them. After an extremely foul minute or two of having to watch my handcuffed cavewoman attempt to pull up her pants and get back in the bed, the event was over. I sat back down in my chair exhausted (already 2 hours overtime) and marvelled at the idea that there was a man somewhere that had paid to be with this woman. No one should be that desperate.

Still Trapped

My family is all together in the country eating pancakes for breakfast, laughing at new jokes, and celebrating a birthday, cake and all, while I'm stuck here in the city with a giant swollen lymph node and having to go to work. Boooo.

An Evolution of Homes

Arlington Now

La Porte '06-'08

La Porte '05

Fort Worth '02-'05

* I don't have pictures of 2 of the places we have lived. Including our very first apartment in Fort Worth and our first townhome in Arlington.

Riff-Raff

Not a whole lot of special things happening around the house the past few days. Currently, its pouring down rain outside, which is fine with me since we have no plans other than tootling around the house doing chores and attempting to make bread that will actually rise this week. The fall plants seem to be doing pretty good. The leafy lettuce is growing long and bright green. There are a few banana peppers popping out, which I believe to be way behind schedule. The tomatoes have several buds flowering, the okra is still producing, and Izzy and I shared a bright red strawberry this morning.

My next door neighbors moved out, which leaves me greatly concerned about what kind of riff-raff might take their place next to the Front Porch Farm. Trust me, the majority of renters in this city are less than model citizens, and their kind seems to be spreading faster than Swine Flu in an elementary school with no soap. I don't have a problem with people from a lower socio-economic group, I have a problem with stupid people: the people that choose to live in filth and ignorance; the ones who continue to have kids while resenting the ones they have; the individuals who believe the wealthy who have worked hard to build that wealth owe them something; the people who denigrate others for getting an education; the parents who are too selfish to take the time to instill moral values in their children or discipline them for that matter. There are the poor and needy who need us to give - then there are the poor and stupid who need us to stop giving so the rule of natural selection can continue thus allowing society as a whole to improve. Basically, I hope I get nice neighbors who don't play music too loud or act like jerks.

Feast or Famine

Our social life is a cycle of feast and famine lately. When we lived in La Porte it was non-stop feast - all day, every day. Those were fun times, but for a couple of introverts from the boonies it was somewhat exhausting. Then we moved away (again) from everyone. No friends, no family, no unexpected visits, no late night discussions over Starbucks and no Sunday lunches at El Ranchero. For the first time in a few years we had quiet. The super express train had stopped, dropped us off in a dust cloud, and then speed off with everyone we knew still on board. It was calm. It was lonely. It was nice. Then came the human embodiment of noise and chaos (a.k.a. Isabel). All of a sudden the train began to make regular stops at our depot again. At first, it was the return of social feast we had known in La Porte with a constant flow of people and a ton of goo-goo, baaa-baa, looooook at the preeeeeety baaaaaaaaabyyyyy, smoochy, smoochy, smoochy (and that was just me). A year and a half later and things have tapered off. Most our time is famine but it is punctuated with random weekending floods of people. It is hilarious to us how things are so quiet then all of a sudden 4 different groups of people call wanting to visit on the same weekend. All that being said, this introvert loves the times of quiet, calm, productive famine, but feast is better. We miss you friends.

Long Lashes

Soft Hands Make Ugly Bread

I just produced the saddest two loaves of bread ever seen. Each loaf stands a mighty 2 inches tall with wrinkly little tops, most likely the result of the not so high quality Kroger brand (el cheapo) yeast I recently purchased with the intention of saving some dough. Next time I will buy the good stuff with the intention of saving some dough. Aside from its hideous exterior, the bread is pretty scrumptious. We just have to make itty-bitty sandwiches this week.

The cold Autumn air left us for the last few days to deal with her crude sweat-stained cousin, Summer, who just continues to linger around like a guest who has far outstayed its welcome. However, this morning Autumn returned and was welcomed with windows opened wide. She was celebrated by a large mug of hot chocolate. The cool breezes brought with them the strange desire to split fire wood. I miss the hard labor of the country life. The labor that imprints its worth on every muscle in a way that is felt at the end of a long day. There are few places on earth better than sitting in the warming glow of a fireplace blazing with wood you cut from a tree then split into usable pieces with your own two hands (an axe helps of course). But until my day of metropolitan exodus comes, I will keep chopping away here watching my hands grow softer.

Instructional Video by Cupcake (Viewers Must be Younger than 2 to Really Appreciate)

Today we have been making fun videos for Isabel starring her favorite toys, puppets and stuffed friends. She thinks they are the funniest things ever made. Her laughs are worth the effort (actually there is not much effort or skill, for that matter, involved). Other than that, today is just an easy day of rest and relaxation. My muscles are loudly voicing their displeasure concerning the previous two days of hard workouts, but fortunately I know the remedy for sore muscles....chocolate chip cookies! Yes, as I type, the cookies are cooling on the kitchen counter awaiting their devouring time. I think that is just what I need for a full recovery - hot cookies and a tall glass of cold milk. But fear not for my getting-back-in-shape plan, tomorrow morning will bring more running...maybe even enough to compensate for the cookies.

Running for Cupcakes

I am fat. Well, not completely fat by typical American standards, but my gravitational pull is definitely increasing. Oh how the mighty have fallen. I used to be a fantastic runner. I was addicted to the rush of it all - the sound of the lonely trail crunching at my feet, the steady rhythm of each long breath and just the clarity that comes with such solitude. I remember waking up feeling the burning need to hit the trail, before breakfast, before school, before saying good morning to a single person. Then the need would hit again in the afternoon, and before I knew it the shirt was off and I was off, in whatever shoes and shorts I was wearing. Direction didn't matter. Time didn't matter. Just running fast and long. 3 miles - a joke; 5 miles - just getting warmed up; 8 miles - a decent run; 10 plus - true runner. Now, lets compare. I still see a trail and something deep inside feels the old rush but the discipline and drive are gone. I woke up this morning with the burning need to eat a chocolate cupcake and this afternoon I will most assuredly be keeping my shirt on as I consider taking off in search of a milkshake. Pathetic. Maybe, just maybe, today will be the day the runner returns, but I'm pretty sure he is not going to magically appear, perhaps some work is involved.

P.S. It is now 3 hours since I wrote the blog, and, hold the applause, I went for a quick 2 mile run. I wish I could say it was a blissful experience....but it wasn't. I feel good I did it, and it felt good for about the first 3 minutes, but after that - pain. Hopefully, tomorrow's will be better.

Fall Has Fallen

The only position for the windows of the car yesterday were down. The northern blast of wind felt so amazing blowing in my face as I drove around the city, which had literally transformed over night. The day before the cold front the high was in the upper 80s, but after, we never took a step beyond 59. Talk about a shock to Summer-hardened Texas skin! I could hear everyone north of the Mason-Dixon Line join in a collective laugh at the Texans walking around bundled tight in coats, gloves and hats. Heck, in North Dakota this is great weather for taking a dip in the pool. It is so funny how after we have acclimated to the brutal summer heat 60 degrees feels so freezing cold, while 60 degrees in February/March has everyone running to the store to buy shorts and beach blankets. Its all relative. I, however, am embracing this, most likely temporary, winter blast with open arms. Every caw of the Autumn crow delivers a smile to my face and sense of comfort I associate with heavy blankets and wintry-gray skies. I say we should all head out for a hayride with hot chocolate and good friends.

Fallberries

Strawberries in the Fall? Who knew?! Our three going-on-four part family leisurely strolled past the Front Porch Farm (and by strolled I mean took the four steps past it to unlock the front door) after returning from our journey to the bookstore and a delicious ransacking of two dessert plates at the Cheesecake Factory (thank you very much 2 year old $10 gift card). But while in route to the door, I was treated to a pleasant surprise when Nocona said, "Look baby strawberries." I couldn't believe it - Fall Fruits! I read a fair share of gardening books and magazine articles, but some how I missed the part telling me strawberries grow in the fall. So, as the leaves start to turn all their warming shades in contrast to the cooling winds, I will be partaking in a fresh strawberry smoothie or a warm strawberry shortcake to accompany a blazing hot cup of evening coffee.

More Friends & Family

Friends & Family

Food of the gods

Nothing starts a day better than hot fresh Shipley's Donuts. Fitness be damned in the face of the Almighty Shipley. All praise be to the Chocolate Filled. A song of worship for the Hot Plain Glazed. Glorious is the Cinnamon Twist. Fall down before the Chocolate Iced. Let offerings and gifts be brought before the Apple Fritter. May the heavens open up and rain down Sausage & Cheese Kolaches. Bring forth Donut Holes from the sea. Sprinkles be unto you. Do not eat the Caked Donut in vain. Raise hands for Cream Filled. Honor the Powdered One. May your mornings be blessed with circular sweet goodness for all eternity.

Eeek a Bug!

Bugs do not bother me. This is one of the benefits of growing up in the country. I smash spiders, squish roaches, pop June bugs, flick mosquitoes, and flatten any other creepy-crawly that comes across my path. But, last night I was confronted with the nastiest of all bugs and I would be lying if I said it didn't bother me a bit.

I got a call about some kids who found a decayed carcass under a bridge and that it might be a baby. Instantly my stomach turned into tightly knotted ropes. I've done and seen a lot of nasty things, but this I did not want to do. I get to the location, squat down into a narrow culvert tunnel and the stink hits with the force of a truck. I literally felt like I needed to lean into it to keep from falling backwards. With latex-gloved hands I slowly approached the source of the smell which appeared to be wrapped in several black plastic bags. The beam of my partner's flashlight only served to expand our dread as it created long shadows extending through the dark tunnel. Fighting back the urge to puke, I began ripping the plastic away from the small opening in the side of the bag left by the kids who originally found it.

The contents were gooey, decaying, and unrecognizable. A bone here. A small tuft of hair there. My partner and I shared expletives and the understanding that both were engaged in an unspoken prayer that this was not a child. The carcass would have to be flipped over to make the final determination. So with both gloved hands I grabbed the back of the plastic and yanked causing the wet rotting mass to flip, and there they were....maggots! It doesn't matter how tough you are, how many people you've fought, dead things you've seen or bugs you've killed, maggots are disgusting! There were hundreds of the nasty vulture bugs inside and out of the carcass, which (praise the Lord) was hairy all over and had a tail...it was a dog (or really big cat)!

We would have breathed a big sigh of relief, but due to the stench our lungs were on survival mode only breathing once every two minutes it seemed. We immediately turned and got the heck out of there, taking the most direct route to a hand sanitizer bath. I immediately started checking my boots and pants to make sure no maggots had hitched a ride out of the tunnel with me. After that was settled, I had a couple of cookies.