Roadtrippin': Day Four

Woke up to abundant sunshine in Lordsburg, New Mexico this morning. A stark contrast to the rain and wind (especially the wind) from yesterday evening.

I'm finding out the hard way that when you make a reservation at any hotel, be very specific about which room you need. I requested a ground floor room, and I got a ground floor room. However, the hotel was one of those places in which there was only one entrance. My room was waaaaaaaay in the back of the hotel. The hotel did not have a cart to carry my bags in, the clerk did not offer to help unload my truck, in fact, he had an attitude, and my right knee was killing me.

The morning clerk was much friendlier and offered to help me load my truck. I had slept seven hours and took two pain pills, so I felt good enough to do it myself, but I did let him know that he was appreciated. I got to fill my ice chest before I left, so I knew my Slim-Fast shakes would be nice and cold in a couple of hours.

Speaking of food, I didn't feel like eating one of my salads this morning. Since I spotted the Kentucky Fried Chicken down the road when I arrived last night, I decided to stop there for chicken strips. But first, I needed sunglasses. There was a Dollar General store up the road close to the McDonalds I stopped at last night, so I went there. I got two of the same pair of the wide-lensed glasses. The price wasn't bad ... $5.00 a pair.

This Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant was one of those combo-restaurants in which it was a Kentucky Fried Chicken AND Taco Bell. I had never seen this before. Apparently, this is becoming a trend in numerous areas along the Interstate. It seemed strange to look at the menu and be able to order items from both restaurants. All I wanted was chicken strips, so that's what I got. I already had Diet Dr Pepper.

Finally, I was able to hit the road. I will be in San Diego this evening.

As I was travelling west on Interstate 10, I kept gazing at the scenery. I was in the desert now, surrounded by mountains. The green and brown shrubs contrasted nicely with the light tan sand as the mountains and boulders separated the bright blue cloudless sky from the desert ground. It was as beautiful as it was deadly. This was not a place you would want to find yourself stranded without food, water, and shelter. There was no water to be seen for miles. This was mid-October, so the air temperatures were more moderate than if I were to have travelled in, say, July. I thought about that while sitting in my comfortable truck with the air conditioner running and listening to my favorite 80's tunes.

Remember, I'm from Georgia, where I was surrounded by pine trees. Some people might think that this area would be a wasteland, but to me, it's a breathtaking view. I also considered pulling over to take pictures. I'm not sure pictures could do justice to the scenery. Looking at a small picture does not compare to being surrounded by the scenery in its entirety. It's one of those things in which you've got to be there to appreciate the full beauty God bestowed upon this place.

Upon entering Arizona, I noticed the license plates of the state's residents. The older ones were dark brown with white letters and white silhouettes of a barrel cactus. The newer ones more a little more colorful. I looked around to see if I could find any barrel cacti, and I couldn't see any. I was almost disappointed. Was I in the wrong region for them to grow? It wasn't long though before my attention turned toward the group of mountains that I would be driving over.

I checked my cell phone signal, and it was maxxed out. However, that was soon to change. As I started up the road into the mountainous area, my signal dropped from a full five bars to one bar. I also noticed something I had not encountered in a long time: my ears were reacting to the air pressure change. A few weeks ago, my friend Silke had suggested I chew gum to alleviate the air pressure in my ears. While driving with my left hand, I plundered through my purse with my right hand, trying to find the pack of gum I placed in it. After I found the gum, I placed a piece and started chewing. To my surprise, it worked. Even when it started souring after ten minutes, I kept chomping away on it.

Coming down a mountain was a different story. I was approaching Benson, Arizona, and I was chomping on that piece of gum furiously as my truck descended from the mountain area. I managed to keep the full-blown pain at bay, but I noticed that my hearing was diminishing. When we came down from the mountain, we came DOWN from the mountain! Oh my God! I shudder to think what would have happened to me if I had flown in an airplane!!

The things we travellers do for entertainment! There was this sheriff's deputy travelling on the Interstate at 80 miles an hour. The posted speed limit was 75 miles per hour. I and two other travellers decided to follow the deputy. After all, if he can drive it, so can we, right? This continued until we got to Tuscon, Arizona. When the deputy took an exit and left the Interstate, I waved my hand and said, "Goodbye, officer! Thanks for letting us play 'follow the leader!'" Yes, I entertain easily.

In comparison to driving in New Mexico, it seemed like driving through Arizona took forever and was more tedious. Probably because it only took 170-something miles to drive through New Mexico, whereas it took twice as long with Arizona. At least I did finally get to see the barrel cacti that we've all seen in various pictures. What we don't see in many of these pictures is that the cacti along the Interstate were shot up and full of bullet holes. The ones further away from the Interstate didn't have any or nearly as many bullet-sized holes. This was a constant sight for many miles. It saddened and concerned me at the same time. I was saddened because the damage these plants sustained. I was concerned because of the number of bullets that had to be fired to cause all the damage. How many people do you know go out on an interstate highway to use cacti for target practice??

Finally, at 6:40 PM EST, I entered the state of California. I took a deep breath when I crossed the state line. I was almost to my destination, and I was getting a little emotional. Less than five miles to the south of me was Baja California, which is Mexico. I haven't been this close to another country since July 1975. There was nothing but white sand for the first few miles inside the state line. By the time it occured to me to pull out my camera and take some video, the scenery had changed. I did manage to get a quick bit of video here:



Once I entered California, I noticed that there were call boxes placed every so many miles from each other so if someone was stranded along the interstate, that someone could call for help. My cell phone signal dropped down to one bar, so I'm glad to see these call boxes out here.

I approached the forth border patrol checkpoint of my entire trip. For the first time, I actually had to stop. I was approached by a cute hispanic-looking border patrolman who spoke to me in a thick accent, "Good afternoon ma'am. How are you today?"

I smiled as I concentrated to eliminate all traces of the southern dialect I acquired while living 30 years in Georgia. "I'm doing great today, sir!"

"Great. Are you an American citizen?" With all due respect sir, I sound more like an American than you do.

"Yes sir I am. Here's my driver's license," I handed him the ID case containing my license and insurance card.

He looked at my license, then handed it back to me. "What do you have in the back of your truck, ma'am?" Hmmm ... should I have told him about my salads in the ice chest in the passenger side floorboard?

"Luggage. I'm on vacation from Waycross, Georgia. Would you like for me to open the back for you?" ... so you can take a look at my leopard-print luggage and come to the conclusion that I have no taste.

"No, ma'am. That won't be necessary. Thanks for your help. You have a great day"

"You, too. By the way, I appreciate what you all do, so you all be careful."

His smile got bigger. "Thank you, ma'am."

All jokes aside, the border patrol has a thankless job to perform, and they're catching hell from both sides. One side says they're being too hard on illegals and everyone should have a chance to enter the country. The other side says that they're not doing enough to protect our borders from the illegal intruders. That's why I took the time to tell him that they were appreciated. You'd be surprised what "you are appreciated" can do to help someone get through the day. No one likes to be taken for granted.

Thirty minutes later, I see more mountains ahead of me. Without thinking, my right hand started searching my purse for more gum. How high was I going to go this time?

As I started my ascent, I noticed the road signs suggesting that drivers should turn off their air conditioners to prevent their vehicles from overheating. Not a bad idea. Besides, the weather was surprisingly pleasant, so I decided to roll down my windows. I also noticed the placement of barrels of radiator water on the side of the road every couple of miles for motorists who had the unfortunate luck of dealing with an overheating vehicle. Glad to know they were there, but I prayed I would not need them.

I reached up to a height of a little over 4,100 ft above sea-level. Wouldn't you know it? I approached another wind farm! This time, I got very close, as you can see from the video below:



There was another border patrol station during my descent from the mountainous area. I had to stop at this one, too. Unlike the last one, these guys wanted to see what I had in the back of my truck. I handed him a key to the truck bed lid. Looking in the rearview mirror, I saw he was having difficulty opening it up. Not wanting to hold up the vehicles behind me nor startle any jumpy patrolmen by leaving my truck too quickly, I slowly opened the truck door, stepped out, and said, "The lock on that lid can be tricky. Would you like for me to open it for you?" He shook his head and said yes. I walked to the back of my truck, jiggled the key, then opened the bed lid.

In view of five border patrolmen was all my leopard-print luggage, a bag filled with dirty laundry, a hot pink tote box filled with boxed food, and two five-gallon gas cans full of gasoline. Now, I've got nothing to hide, but I didn't know what to expect next. Flashes of heightened airport security checks raced through my head as I looked at the faces of the uniformed men. Were they going to go through everything, including my unmentionables? Of course, one brief look and they were through with their inspection of my vehicle, so I was free to go.

The sun was setting as I entered San Diego County. I wasn't going to worry about trying to recognize anything at this point. My only concerns were to get to my hotel room, make two phone calls, and get on the Internet.

After checking in, driving to my room, and unloading the truck, I sat down on the bed. All that kept going through my mind was, "I can't believe I'm here! I did it! I'm here!" I reflected on the various places that were near and dear to my heart when I lived in San Diego: my old elementary school, my sister's high school, Belmont Park, The San Diego Zoo, Sea World, the beach, Miramar, and especially the Millers ... I was going to see them again.

I finally made it back to San Diego.

Roadtrippin': Day Three

Got a late start hitting the road. Claire woke me up around 6:30 AM local time, but it was not until 9:30 when I finally loaded the truck and hit the road. I decided to make use of the Internet access and take care of some business online while I could. I had this feeling that I would not be able to access the Internet until I got to California, and only then if my hotel’s Internet service was working.

Claire and TxLobo have a couple of couches that they’re trying to sell. If one of them is the one I slept on last night AND I had room in the back of my truck, I would have bought it. That was a very comfy couch. I love couches I can just sit and sink into. It had lots of pillows and room for up to four people.

Traveling back to the interstate where Abilene was located, I was comtemplative about how the state of Texas allows the speed limit to be 70 mph on state-maintained roads. In Georgia, the speed limit was always 55 mph. I think it’s because the state roads in Texas are so remote and sparsely populated. In any case, I was glad I was able to travel at that speed.

Upon arrival to Abilene, I was surprised at how large the city was. For some reason, I had assumed it was a smaller city like Valdosta, Georgia. Before I got to the Interstate, I had seen a wide array of restaurants, stores, and other businesses … all looking like they had been built within the last five years. I saw a billboard for a restaurant that struck me as funny: “Buffet City, Over 200 items.” Talk about telling it like it is!

I started thinking about Soul Sister. She was born in Abilene. I don’t know what her work schedule is, and I’m so afraid I’ll wake her if she’s home because she’s usually asleep. She’s been on my mind a lot lately. I haven’t spoken to her in awhile, and I teared up when I was reminded yet again that I failed to call her. I miss her. It was easier to keep in touch when she had Internet service, but her current home doesn’t have adequate service yet. Still, I need to call.

As I got back on the Interstate, I started looking at gas prices again. In this area as of this writing, it was $2.07 for regular unleaded. I was told it was about that price in Waycross, Georgia. I hadn’t seen exuberant gas prices yet, but I’m expected it anytime.

Sweetwater, Texas has a wind farm south of I-20. A wind farm is a spot of land in which power-generating windmills are located to catch the wind and generate electricity. To the best of my knowledge, these windmills do not create hazardous waste nor damage the ozone layer. It is, to my understanding, one of the cleanest forms of energy we have available to us if we just utilize it more. It was a sight to behold.



I remember reading about how a company wanted to put up a wind farm at Martha’s Vineyard, and the residents protested, saying the wind farm would be an eyesore. I can’t speak for other people, but I’d much rather have a wind farm as a view than to pollute the environment by burning oil and coal to generate electricity. To me, wind farms are beautiful.

I approached a sign at the beginning of a bridge, displaying that the Colorado River was just ahead. I was expecting a large body of water. I was taken aback at how dried up this river was. I’ve seen water-filled ditches with more water than this “river.”

There was a refinery that I passed on my right; it was owned by Fina. OMG! I thought the paper mill in Brunswick, Georgia had a bad smell! Ewww! Note to self: never move close to an oil refinery.

Shock of the day: When I approached the city of Monahan, Texas, the speed limit on the Interstate went up to 80 mph. I had to do a double take. My first thought was that vandals changed the sign. There was a second sign right after the first one that said trucks and cars with trailers must go 70 mph. I was elated. I could drive 80 mph and do it legally! I set my cruise control and happily continued on my way. Of course, I had to call my good friend Pumooda and tell her about the speed limit signs.

One of the things I noticed about speed limit signs in Texas is that they have different speed limits for daytime and nighttime. The daytime speed limits are posted in black letters on white backgrounds. However, the nighttime speed limites are posted in white letters on black backgrounds. If the speed limit is 70 mph or higher, then a nighttime speed limit of 65 mph is posted.

About five miles before I-20 merged with I-10, I entered the first mountainous area of my trip. It was beautiful. Parts of the road were lined with landscaped jagged rocks and boulders. I started thinking about the freeways in San Diego where they had similar landscaping. A couple of tears ran down my cheeks before I was brought back to the reality that I was still in Texas. I still had a ways to go, but I was getting closer.

My cell phone reception up until I entered this area had been excellent. Once I got to the mountains, my reception was virtually nonexistent. It was a little unnerving at first. It’s funny how quickly we adapt to technological advances to the point that we become naked and vulnerable when they’re suddenly not available.

Approaching an exit around 169 miles from the New Mexico state line, I noticed the gas prices for regular unleaded were $2.69. I was wondering how long it was going to be before I approached these high-priced gas stations. At least it was a modern-looking station (from what I could see from the interstate). However, I wasn’t about to stop for gas. Luckily, I fueled up 100 miles ago when the gas cost $2.29 a gallon. Even then, I’ve got two five-gallon containers of gasoline in the back of the truck. If a gas station didn’t look safe, I wasn’t going to stop.

I did make a stop to take a couple of pictures of this beautiful rainbow:






Once I got to the El Paso county line, the speed limit dropped back down to 70 mph. It was a nice ride while it lasted.

Finally, I got to New Mexico. By then, I had been on the road approximately eight hours. I made a reservation at the Super 8 in Lordsburg, New Mexico, and it was going to be another couple of hours before I got there.

Dark clouds were forming overhead as I drove on. I was looking at the various shapes each cloud formed. One had a lopsided triangular shape to it. I wondered if it was the beginnings of a tornado, but I blew it off (no pun intended). I figured mother nature was playing her optical illusions again. By then, it was nearly dark and I couldn’t see the sky.

Then the wind hit the truck.

You know how when you’re riding in a vehicle you can hear the steady sound of the wind, and it’s a constant sound? The sound of the wind went from a soothing rush to a sudden roar. At the same time, my truck’s steering became more difficult to control. I immediately slowed down. I looked around and noticed other vehicles hitting their brakes at the same time. This lasted for about 30 seconds before whatever hit us died down. There was no rain, no hail. Was it a tornado? I honestly couldn’t tell you. Whatever it was, it was powerful.

Finally, I arrived at my hotel. I didn't feel like eating the food I brought with me. I wanted some comfort food, so I decided to treat myself to McDonalds. I got my food, brought it back to my room, and enjoyed my gourmet chicken nuggets and fries. I went to sleep shortly after.

Roadtrippin': Day Two

So much for setting the alarm clock. I slept right through it. That was God’s way of telling me that I needed more sleep. I know I’m a heavy sleeper anyway, but this alarm was obnoxious-sounding.

This particular hotel offered a free “continental” breakfast. In other words, you have your choice of two cereals, bagels, and doughnuts with milk, orange juice, coffee, butter, cream cheese, and jelly. I took a cup of milk and two bagels with cream cheese to go. I could get addicted to bagels with cream cheese; it was tasty and filling.

From the time it took me to wake up to the time I walked into lobby to check-out, one hour had passed. At least carrying my stuff down the stairs was easier than carrying them up the stairs; I’m not complaining. I did do something stupid: I signed the credit card receipt without even looking to see how much it was. I finally checked when I made my first fuel stop of the day in Louisiana. I’ve got to be more careful.

I remember crossing the Mississippi river when I left Mississippi and crossed into Louisiana. That’s a huge river! The only other river I’ve seen that could come a distant second is the St. Johns River in Florida. It got my attention.

Along Interstate 20 from Georgia to Louisiana, I did not notice much of a difference in the landscape. Honestly, I could have taken a picture of the interstate in Georgia, and it could have looked like the landscape in Alabama, Mississippi, or eastern Louisiana. Once I got halfway through Louisiana, I noticed that we were still surrounded by trees, but they weren’t pine trees. I don’t know what kind of trees they were.


When I arrived to Texas, their welcome station had free wireless Internet. Of course, you know I had to stop and check this out for myself. How do you think it felt when I was able to access the Internet from inside my truck? I had been marveling at how strong my cell-phone service connect had been throughout my trip. I have been able to make calls at will to friends and family and not have to worry about racking up long distance charges. Thinking back at how road trips used to be, I can’t help but marvel at the technology readily available to us.

Texas seems to take their slogan, “Don’t Mess With Texas,” seriously. Shortly after getting on the road again from the Welcome Station, I passed a sign that displayed, “Don’t Mess with Texas, $50 - $1000 Fine for Littering.”

Passed a sign about 30 minutes east of Dallas, Texas: Prison Area, Do Not Pick Up Hitchhikers. Considering that I work in a prison, I thought the sign was hilarious. I called a friend of mine to tell him what I saw, but he didn’t sound too impressed. Just me, huh?

The closer I got to Dallas, Texas, the more I noticed the landscape change around me. I saw more open fields of wildgrass with shrubs and scattered trees here and there. The change was more obvious after I crossed through the Dallas and Fort Worth area. For someone who has spent 31 years in an area in which all you see are pine trees, seeing a wide-open plain was absolutely breathtaking.

Oversleeping cost me two-and-a-half hours of driving time. I was supposed to be to a small town in Texas to meet a couple of friends and spend the night. We were going to go out to eat when I got there. I was on the road 11 hours before I finally arrived.

God bless them for being patient and understanding. They went ahead and picked up dinner and brought it back to their house so it would be ready when I got there. We had fried chicken, homemade mashed potatoes with cream gravy, green beans, carrots, and potato salad. I remember picking up a piece of chicken and originally thinking that it was two pieces stuck together. My friends chuckled when it dawned on me that it was one single piece of chicken breast. I guess what they say is true about things being bigger in Texas. Even the drumsticks were bigger than the ones we get at the local KFC in Georgia.

It was so good to see Claire again. I had not seen her since she moved from Waycross to be with TxLobo. As far away from home as I was, it was almost as if I never left. Her husband TxLobo has greatly impressed me. I mean, OMG!!! He took what was originally a small house and added to it. He did almost all of the work himself. I was in awe at the practicality and craftsmanship of all of his home-improvement projects. Claire told me he was the “jack of all trades, but the master of none.” Well, he may not be the master, but he’s pretty damn good at what he does! The house felt like a home … a real home. If he was my neighbor, and I wanted to have something done to my house, I’d hire him. By the way, did I mention that he can cook and knows his way around computers like the back of his hand? I should have asked if he had a brother. :-P

Roadtrippin': Day One

I’ve waited 31 years for this.

I don’t think it’s hit me yet that I’m finally embarking on this long-distance drive. I had planned on making this trip for so long that it didn’t hit me until the week of the trip, and then I felt like I was caught off guard. Reminds me of the time when I lived in Atlanta in the 90s and we kept hearing, “The Olympics are coming!” We’re like, “Yeah, yeah … in another six years … five years … four years …” It wasn’t until two weeks before the Olympics were due to start that it finally hit us, “Oh my God!!! The Olympics are coming!”

In an unrelated bit of family trivia, it was also 31 years from the time my Uncle Luther disappeared without a trace in February 1965 to February 1996 when a good friend of his called us to let us know that he was alive but ailing in Waco, Texas. But I digress …

It was a cool, overcast morning when I left the house. I had no idea where I was going to make my first stop, but I was going to drive as long as I could before I felt the need to stop for the night. I’m running on three hours of sleep, but I’m so keyed up right now that I don’t think I could go to sleep if I tried.

The longest I ever spent driving someplace was six hours, and that was in my 1984 Mercury Lynx that had no cruise control. I would not attempt this cross-country drive if my truck did not have this luxurious must-have feature. In fact, my truck has been a blessing to me. The seat is comfortable and supports my back. Even if you were to make frequent stops on a road trip, the seats in your vehicle can make or break your enjoyment during the trip.

My sleep deprivation was already taking a toll on me when I got to the city of Albany, Georgia. I misread the signs and took the business route of US 82 (the long way) rather than the bypass. I lost 30 minutes of driving time in stop and go traffic. I was upset with myself. I wondered if I needed to make a stop and take a nap, but I decided to keep going.

I never thought I’d get out of Georgia. It took me five hours to get to Columbus from Waycross. In addition, the City of Columbus had some kind of celebration going on and the police department was having to direct traffic. Instead of taking 10 minutes to drive through the city, it took 35 minutes. I never thought I’d be so glad to see the sign that said, “Alabama State Line.” I made much better time once I got to Alabama. One thing I will say about US routes in that state is that they’re almost like the interstate roads as far as being at least four-laned and having speed limits higher than the standard speed limit of 55 MPH.


After dark, the full moon came out. There was not much traffic on the interstate, so I was able to enjoy the whitish-blue glow cast upon the trees and the road. It was really nice. I love full-moon nights.

By the time I got to Meridian, Mississippi, my body was letting me know that it was time to pull over and get a room. Honestly, I was still hyped up and could have driven another two or three hours. However, I had been awake 21 hours and only had three hours of sleep the night before. The body was willing, but even I knew that my sleep deprivation made me a few clowns short of a circus. I needed to get off the road.

I stopped at a couple of hotels before I found one with a vacancy. However, it only had vacancies on the second floor. This is not a good thing when you have a pinched nerve in your back and an injured knee. I decided to take only what I absolutely needed and would just take extra medication for the pain. No matter what I did, I still had to make two trips. What added insult to injury is that the hotel offered free high speed Internet service, but I got a room with a damaged CAT5 port. I could not get service to my computer. What did I learn from this experience? Pick a town and make your reservation if you need a specific room to accommodate you.

Roadtrippin': The Beginning

For the next couple of weeks, I'll be posting an ongoing journal of my road trip from Georgia to California. It is a combination vacation/self-actualization journey.

Why is this trip important to me?

San Diego was a place in which I had started developing my own interests, my own friends, my own identity. The house we lived in at Miramar NAS (now a marine base) was the first place that felt like home to me. I had just turned four years old when we arrived, my dad being transferred there from Virginia Beach. By the time I was ten years old, I had spent 50% of my life in one home, one neighborhood, one school. It was what I was comfortable with ... what I was familiar with.

Dad retired from the Navy when I was nine years old. My sister still had one year of high school left. Mom and Dad didn't want to take her out and put her in a strange school, so we rented a house in the Clairemont area of San Diego. I had to change schools, but I thought it was cool that I could walk to school instead of riding the bus. In addition, a lot of schools back then were similar, so it wasn't too different from attending one school or another ... just different students and teachers.

When my sister graduated high school, there was no reason to stay in San Diego. The cost of living was too high. We had some land in Colorado, but a snowstorm prompted my parents to change their mind about moving there. Dad suggested moving to Waycross because Mom's family was there. Mom liked the idea.

On July 7, 1975, we left San Diego. I had to leave behind everything I was familiar with. I didn't want to leave. I had to say goodbye to my friends. I had no idea what to expect.

We arrived to Waycross on July 14, 1975. I thought we had arrived to Green Acres (the TV show). We had been travelling on a road that had sporadic run-down wooden homes and mobile homes. Mom didn't realize until later that the particular route we took might not have given me a good impression of the town (you think???). We pulled up to my maternal grandmother's house, and I looked around. There were rows of older-looking wooden homes. Mom and Dad were looking where to put the luggage and the moving truck. I was still looking for Arnold the pig to show up with a welcome basket in his mouth.

The next few months were not pleasant.

I was not used to the high 90F+ temperatures and the high humidity. No matter how many times I showered, I still didn't feel fresh and clean. It felt like someone opened a Pepsi or Coke and poured it over my body.

My body chemistry made me a buffet treat to all the biting insects in the area. What's worse, I was having allergic reactions to their bites. I remember one night being taken to a family member who was a pharmacist for help because I was seriously ill. I somehow managed to get numerous mosquito bites all over my body, and I couldn't stop scratching. Mom told me later that I had a fever and they were worried about me because I got so sick. I looked like I had a relapse of the chicken pox.

It was hard for me to converse with people. I was not familiar with their southern accents, and I'm sure they got tired of me asking them to repeat what they said. Some even started making fun of me for the way I spoke. I was a sensitive child, so their ridicule hurt. I just wanted to fit in, and I was failing miserably.

We didn't have these problems in San Diego. Why did we have to leave?

I learned to adapt. It took me awhile, but I managed. Cooler weather helped, also. Unlike California, we actually had cold weather during the fall and winter months. I loved it. It was such a reprieve from the hot sticky weather I suffered through before. Regardless of the time of year, when it's around 70 - 72 degrees with very low humidity, and I feel a breeze, I immediately think of San Diego.

I longed to see San Diego again. I had brought this up with Mom a couple of times over the years. She kept brushing it off as silly and stupid. Why would I want to do something like that? It's not going to be the same as when we lived there. I didn't expect it to, but why should that stop me? I learned not to mention it around her. It was obvious she would not be supportive of this venture. Dad was more supportive, but after dealing with Mom, I didn't bring it up again for discussion.

When a loved one dies, it tends to make you philosophic. Two months after my mother passed away, I started looking at where I was and what I wanted to do with my life. I started seriously thinking about making the trip. I had the finances, a well-maintained vehicle, the vacation time, and the desire to revisit a lost childhood. That is when I knew that the time had come to to make the return.

I do want to clarify that I love living in Waycross. I've grown to love the landscape, the people, and the history. As an adult, Waycross is my hometown.

But speaking for the 10-year old little girl who had to say goodbye to everything she loved, I'm finally going home.

Rest in Peace, Cpl Mike "Mad Dog" Young

Troop I is saddened to announce the death of Cpl. Mike Young #674 of Post 23, Brunswick (Georgia). Mike died from injuries sustained in a crash while attempting to assist a fellow Trooper.

Mike was a Christian, a devoted family man and a dedicated public servant. The Law Enforcement community has lost a brother and a friend.

Arrangements will be forthcoming when they are announced. Please continue to keep his family and those who loved and respected Mike in your thoughts and prayers.

From the Public Information Office of the Georgia State Patrol.

Altered Photos from "Reliable" News Sources

It's a shame when we can't trust what we see. Journalists are supposed to tell the story ... the TRUTHFUL story. Obviously, there is a pattern that various bloggers have spotted and brought to light.

These videos show examples of how photos from recent news events are manipulated to tell a story. After watching this video, I am now wondering if any of us realize what is truly going on in this world and who is doing what to whom.







I guess this proves once again that we cannot believe everything we read and see. It also shows that mainstream media sources can be wrong and their information must be viewed with a discerning eye.

Faces of Meth

My friend Lori posted a link to the above-referenced web page on the Green Screen yesterday. It shows before and after pictures of people who used methamphetamines. It's not pretty. We've been also told how in just one year, the abuser's teeth are destroyed by methamphetamine abuse.

The web site this page is hosted on is called DrugFree.org. It's the site for The Partnership for a Drug Free America. It gives a wealth of information about drug abuse, how to spot it, and how to stop it. It's a fascinating read and worth your time.

I've seen first hand what drug abuse will do to the abuser. No one wants to be addicted to drugs. What starts out as getting high for kicks becomes a nightmare of dependency where you're coerced into doing anything to get more of the drug just to keep the physical pain of withdrawal at bay.

Midnight At The Edge of Thomas Cemetery

I spent some time at Soul Sister's house Friday evening. We had eaten pizza, chicken wings, and bread sticks. Her daughter had a friend staying with them, so I had put them to work tagging and bagging Avon books for distribution. They actually made a game out of it, so at least they weren't too bored with the task. Around 11:30, Soul Sister was getting sleepy, so I left her place to go home.

The first couple of miles seemed like an endless row of sandy dirt road lined with tall, narrow pine trees piercing the dark night sky. My truck's headlights pushed the darkness back and illuminated the road like spotlights on a stage. The sky was overcast, so I was unable to see any stars in the sky. I rode with my window down so I could listen to the frogs croak their conversations to other frogs. Heavy rain seems to make them more vocal.

Once I got to the paved street leading to Hoboken, I set the cruise control and observed what little I could see of my surroundings. With the exception of the occasional house with outside lights and/or a light pole, the road was dark. It was nearly midnight and almost everyone in the area was home and off the road. All I could see was the glow of the dashboard instruments in my truck and the illuminated pavement a few feet in front of me.

Hoboken is an extremely small town. It was refreshing to see a Shell station open at this time of night. Almost every other business in the downtown area was closed and dark. Turning onto US 82 toward Waycross, I noticed other vehicles in the distance going to their various destinations. It was the first sign of life I had witnessed since I left Soul Sister's place.

Six miles later, I approached Miles Still Road on the right. Normally, this would be the shortest route to take to go home from Hoboken. However, this road had an additional significance for me: Thomas Cemetery was less than a mile away. Thomas Cemetery was Mom's new home since she died last January. I've never been able to drive past the cemetery without making a stop, and tonight would be no exception. I turned onto the road, crossed the railroad tracks, and proceeded to slowly drive toward the cemetery.

Thomas Cemetery was located across the street from New Hope Advent Christian church. The church was well-lit on the outside, thanks to the installation of a couple of light poles with the extra-bright halogen floodlights. In contrast, the cemetery across the street was dark. As I pulled up to the cemetery, my headlights could only shine a limited range upon the property. Even though there is a wide enough space between the rows of graves, there were no easily-marked paths for people to drive on. I had to drive the truck very slowly to avoid driving over a grave site. I slowly approached the row my mother was buried in. When I got as close as I could, I turned off my headlights and shut off the truck.

I surveyed my surroundings. The cemetery had been in existence since the 1800's. There was a small patch of graves to the far right of me of people who had been buried before the twentieth century. If someone were to examine this area, he would see that there are patches of sunken ground. Most people buried during that time were either wrapped in cloth or buried in wooden caskets. As time went on, decomposition and disintegration cause the ground directly above to shift and cave in. Most of the sites now are extended family members buried in concrete vaults and marked with thicker, sturdier headstones. However, I suspect there are some gravesites that were forgotten about and their grave markers were either destroyed or never existed. I try to keep this in mind whenever I walk around the property.

I looked to my left and examined Mom's grave. The silk flowers generously given to us by dear friends were still up and surrounding the cement block covering her underground vault. Can't believe it's been seven months since she passed away. I started thinking about how she didn't like for me to be out alone after dark. I honestly listened to see if I could hear her turning over in her grave because her baby daughter was sitting all alone in a cemetery at around midnight for no good reason.

Looking around and listening to the quiet of the night, I made sure that no one was around. I was experiencing a first: I had never been to a cemetery after dark alone. Growing up, I was easily spooked by skeletons, dead people, and ghosts. The very idea of being in a graveyard was creepy enough in the daytime, much less at night. It's funny how as we get older, we do things as adults that we'd never consider doing when were younger.

I turned to her grave again and started talking to Mom. I had been haunted by her in my dreams lately. I felt the need to tell her where I stood with them. In life, Mom was a high-strung obsessive-compulsive with a need to be in control. In our household, if Mom wasn't happy, no one was happy. Even after she died, she was still trying to tell me what to do in my dreams. Tears were rolling down my cheeks when I finished getting things off my chest and reasserting my life since her passing. I told her I loved her, wiped the tears from my eyes, and started up the truck. Not wanting to risk turning around with limited lighting, I drove to the back of the cemetery and followed the perimeter of the property back toward the road.

My mind was still on the significance of my actions when I arrived at the house five minutes later. To most, it would seem silly that going to a cemetery around midnight would be considered "a significant event," in someone's life. One day, I'll be able to delve into the realms of my mother's life and her influence on me.

Corey Johnson's Pool Table

You want to know the real value of a piece of furniture in your home? When someone takes the time to hand-craft, assemble, and create something functional that is pleasing to the eye, the finished product is priceless. Corey's pool table fits that description.



According to my dear friend Pam (Corey's mom), "He wanted to build his very own pool table and he did it ... and it WORKS!! He had to order some of the parts for it, like the rail cushions, but everything else, he bought here and there. It is regulation size and it is a lot bigger than what I expected it to be in my house."

The picture speaks for itself. You can take one look at it and know that he put a lot of work into it. I don't care if someone says they got their pool table by some famous designer. To me, Corey's pool table is worth more.

A Nine-Year-Old Child Gave Birth?

I read on the Fox News web site that a nine-year-old girl in Brazil was found pregnant and gave birth by ceaserian section. The authorities were investigating to see if it was a rape. The link to the story is here.

I will never understand why men find little girls sexually arousing. It had always been my belief that there was a natural instinct to protect children from harm. Once I started working for a prison then later surfed the Internet, that belief has all but been completely shattered. I now know that the depths of human depravity knows no bounds. Children are not exempt. Anyone who does not realize this is dangerously naive.

Survivor Participant Shoots Puppy With Arrow

On the Cable News Network web site, it was reported that Brian Heidik of "Survivor: Thailand" fame shot a puppy with an arrow.

A puppy??!!

Heidik claimed he thought it was a coyote which had been harrassing his pets in the past. Okay ... really pushing it, but I'll give him that. However, why did he flee when the sheriff's deputies arrived to investigate?

He's been charged with battery and cruelty to animals. Why the battery charge? It seems that the deputies found evidence of "battery for family violence." Under Georgia's domestic violence law, law enforcement officials must arrest the batterer, even if the victimized spouse or significant other does not want to press charges.

My honest opinion of the situation is that after his spat with his spouse, he went out shooting animals because he was still angry and wanted to lash out.

In any case, he doesn't sound like a nice guy.

The Extreme Diet Coke & Mentos Experiments

What happens when you combine 200 liters of Diet Coke and over 500 Mentos mints? It's amazing and completely insane.

The first part of this video demonstrates a simple geyser, and the second part shows just how extreme it can get. Over one hundred jets of soda fly into the air in less than three minutes.

It's a hysterical and spectacular mint-powered version of the Bellagio Fountains in Las Vegas, brought to you by the mad scientists at EepyBird.com.

Kids Say The Darndest Things

My supervisor sent me to run a couple of errands in a town and place an order on his behalf (all in a town 30 miles away). It's fiscal year closeout and we had a little money left. I figured after the errands, I could stop by my favorte fast food place (that's not available in the town where I work) and pick up my lunch and take it back to work with me. Despite the heat, I was in a fairly good mood and was actually singing stupid made-up ditties. My supervisor felt the pressure of the deadline approaching, and I wanted to help him. I felt like I was doing some good.

One of the places I had to go to was a home-improvement warehouse-type store. It was bad enough that it took 20 minutes to get someone to help me so I could place my order with them. It was even worse when my knee and back hurt enough that I had to sit down in a chair in front of the counter.

You know what really got me? A three or four-year old boy with a big mouth. While the clerk was typing my order into their computer, in front of four employees and ten customers, this little boy looked at me, opened is big mouth and loudly exclaimed in a slow southern drawl, "HIYA ... BIG ... FAT ... LADY!!!"

I was shocked and mortified.

I looked at this boy with my eyes wide open, and the only words I could get out of my mouth was, "Excuse you????" I then looked up at his mother to see how she was going to handle this situation. Only when she saw me look at her did she bother to correct her son.

What added insult to injury is that this kid had one of those briar-eating grins on his face like he knew he said something funny or clever. His mother told him that what he said wasn't nice and he was to tell me he was sorry. He kept grinning, looking around at all the people. She told him to say he was sorry or she would spank him. He kept grinning. She told him to say he was sorry or she would spank him in front of all these people. He stopped grinning. He had a look of surprise, like, "Huh? Are you serious?" He still wouldn't apologize. She repeated her threat. He started whining and mumbled that he was scared. She said, "Well, you weren't scared when you made your hurtful remark. Tell her you are sorry." He looked back at me and whined some more. She told him one more time. He still wouldn't apologize.

She finally looked at me and apologized for what he said. She said she was embarrased and that she would see to it that he is taught not to say things like that again. She then proceeded to spank him, then took him (crying) and her other two children outside.

I really wish she had just gone ahead and apologized for his remark and then dealt with him when they got to their vehicle. Needless to say when I finished placing my order and got back to my truck, I lost my appetite. I fueled up my truck and drove back to work.

The cashier agreed with me that the boy probably was allowed to make similar comments at home and got laughs from his family members. She also noted that the mother didn't react until I looked at her and "put the ball in her court" so to speak.

I'm sure someone is going to tell me that I overreacted and I should have just let it roll off my back. However, I beg to differ. Yes, I'm obese. However, I'm not the fat lady from the Big Top; the circus is not in town. I am not a f***ing freak show!!!! I am a woman with intelligence, values, desires, and a reasonable sense of humor. I deserve love and respect like every other woman on this planet! I want the world to know that I did not appreciate that child's remark, and it should not be condoned.

IBC: Inflammatory Breast Cancer ... IMPORTANT

It was brought to my attention that television station KOMO in Seattle, Washington, did a story on Inflammatory Breast Cancer: The Silent Killer. I viewed the video and was left speechless. Women as young as teenagers have died from this fast-growing cancer. Maybe it's because I've lost a friend to breast cancer, or maybe it's because my dad is taking chemo treatments for colon cancer, but the minute this video ended, I was making posts on MySpace, VinXperience, and sending e-mails to all my friends about this. It's that important.

The video speaks for itself. Folks, please click on the link below to watch this six-minute segment.

http://ww3.komotv.com/global/video/popup/pop_player.asp?ClipID1=785456&

Please help spread the word about this recently-discovered cancer.

MySpace.com is Not Evil ...

... and I'm sick of hearing about it.

Someone named Nathan Tabor has published a story about the evils of MySpace.com and how MySpace.com is the "Latest Danger in Cyberworld."

This is my response to his and other stories on the so-called evil MySpace.com:

MySpace.com cannot be blamed for teenage girls who willingly lie about their age and post provocative pictures of themselves. Nobody forced them to open an account.

MySpace.com cannot be blamed for sexual predators stalking underage children. Just because the site exists doesn't give the predators an excuse as to why they pursue underage teens.

MySpace.com cannot be blamed for the ills of the Internet community spilling over into our society.

It is time to stop pointing fingers at everyone and everything instead of pointing fingers at those who misuse a service to misbehave. It's time to start holding the offenders accountable for their actions. When the youngsters who lie on MySpace get caught, there should be stronger sanctions against them than just having their account deleted. They're committing fraud; let's prosecute them for fraud. They'll knock it off when there are real consequences to their actions.

It's time for parents to stop being lazy in their duties as parents and start monitoring their children's Internet activities. Too inconvenient? Sorry, but no one said being a parent was easy. Get off your ass and get over it.

As for the sexual predators, they're going to go where the kids are: malls, chat rooms, myspace, facebook, fast food restaurants, ball games, school functions, etc. Shutting down anything is not going to solve the problem.

Any tool or service can be used for good or bad. It's up to us to determine how it should be used.

Ten Years Ago

Where were you in life ten years ago?

I'm looking back to how my life has changed. I was still living in Atlanta, Georgia. I had washed myself from an abusive casual relationship, finally made enough money from my full-time job to quit my part-time job, looked forward to the 1996 Olympics, and worked on documenting my video diary. I didn't have a car, but I was lucky enough to be our job's vanpool coordinator, so I had transportation to and from work. I had to scrape pennies, but I had my own place and lived by my own rules. I had heard of the Internet, but I had never seen it.

Now, my income has more than doubled, and I enjoy putting money into savings every payday. I own two vehicles and live in a nice home ... not an apartment. Since I moved back to Waycross, I have a lot more friends, and I certainly enjoy getting out more. Not only have I been to the Internet, but I'm achieving my goals of featuring my writing. In addition, I have now discovered web design and graphics.

Am I better off now than I was ten years ago? Oh hell yes!

What Part of "Leave Me Alone" Don't You Understand?

I'm not sure how to handle this situation.

Earlier this week, I received a MySpace message from someone who has been instructed in the past not to contact me. I did not read the message; I deleted it.

This person and I have a mutual friend. I've already reprimanded this friend in the past for encouraging this person to contact me. I have a feeling this friend is doing it again. Perhaps they feel that since my mother died last January, it's "safe" to try to contact me again.

In the past, this person had an unintentional knack for getting into trouble and involving anyone this person hung around with. Now, I work for the Georgia Department of Corrections ... a law-enforcement agency. I am not supposed to have ANY personal or business dealings with inmates, parolees, nor probationers. A couple of this person's friends at the time fit into two of these catagories and put me in situations in which I could have lost my job.

This person also had a tendency to retell a story that wasn't what was originally said. For example, if I were to say, "We had almost 2 feet of snow," this person would retell what I said as, "Michelle said they had over 2 feet of snow." I won't go into further detail because it is not my intention to embarrass or shame this person.

The final straw was when this person and a couple of friends did something that my dad informed me was a federal offense. When I informed this person of what Dad told me, the reply I got was to the effect of, "They don't care; everyone does it." Because of this person's behavior, I was told by my family and a long time friend that I would be disowned if I have anything to do with this person. I lost my mother last Janary; I'm not about to lose my dad, my sister, my best friend, and my job just because someone won't take "leave me alone," for an answer.

I don't wish this person ill will. I honestly want this person to be happy, have many friends, and have a fulfilling, wonderful life. However, I want this person to never contact me again.

I have considered contacting my lawyer about getting a restraining order, but I'm going to wait and see what happens.

Yesterday's Immigrant "Strike"

Well, the "strike" has come and gone, but the massive "shutdown" never happened. They tried, but they failed to shut down any cities. Some parents kept their children home and some businesses closed, but that was mainly due to safety concerns stemming from the attitude some of the protesters were showing as the May 1 date drew closer.

Charlie Daniels said it best in these two entries from his Soapbox archives:

http://www.multimedia-interactive.com/cdb/view_topic.php?id=1125&forum_id=13

http://www.multimedia-interactive.com/cdb/view_topic.php?id=1187&forum_id=13

I don't know of any other way to say it. I agree with what he wrote 100 percent.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I'm not close-minded, I'm not racist, and I'm not a hater. I live in (what I believe to be) the best country in the world, and I'm proud to call myself an American. I'm was raised in a military family and, I'm fiercely patriotic. I know my country has flaws, but no country is perfect.

I believe everyone who wants to come to our country to live should have every opportunity to do so, but for crying out loud, follow our laws!! That includes waiting your turn to come in legally. You want to become a citizen? Wonderful! I'd love to have you as a neighbor! Just learn our language before you take the oath of citizenship. You'd be expected to do the same in other countries. Ours should be no exception.

That's how I feel ... pure and simple.

My First Visit to OHS

Anyone who knows me know that the Okefenokee Humane Society (OHS) is an organization that I believe in with all my heart. After working on their web site for nearly a year, I finally got a chance to visit and meet the staff.

I was impressed. The place was so clean; if there were any odors, I didn't notice any. Bonnie and Kaye were busy with the phones or people coming in, but they still managed to chat with me in-between. When Mary came in, I was admiring her rubber boots. They weren't boring black, oh no! They were striped with bright spring-like colors. Totally cool!!

I witnessed a couple bringing in their dog that they reluctantly had to give up. It was an older dog, and he was too rough for their toddler son. The husband had to walk outside because he was on the verge of tears. My heart went out to him. His wife was taking it better than he was.

There's a dog that I saw whose hind legs are paralyzed. She's just as cute as she can be, so friendly and loving. A wonderful disposition. Just a huggable ball of fur. I wanted to take her home with me, but Munchkin wouldn't appreciate it. Because of the way this little cutie was dragging her hind end as she walked (and this little one can move fast, let me tell you!), the staff named her "Drag Queen."

We got the ball rolling in getting PayPal set up so donations can be accepted online. It will probably be the end of the week before everything is confirmed, and we get the PayPal codes put in place.

God bless the staff at OHS for what they do.

Please visit their site at http://www.okefenokeehumanesociety.org.

Gumby Slippers! At Long Last!

Patience and perserverence paid off as I finally found and won an eBay auction featuring a pair of large Gumby Slippers! They came in Friday, and I was tickled pink to see the fuzzy green slippers with the head of Gumby prominently displayed at the front.


Something I didn't count on when I received the slippers ... Munchkin's interest in them. To her, they look, smell, and feel like one of her stuffed toys. Imagine my dismay when what I viewed as innocent curious sniffing changed into a Cujo-like clamping on poor Gumby's head on my left foot. I kept yelling, "No!" and slapping Munchkin to make her let go of my slipper (with my foot in it, mind you). She would not let go. In desperation, I took a fork and started to poke (not stab) her nose with it to make her let go, all the time yelling, "No!" Munchkin was not letting go. In fact, she started tugging on it. I put the fork down and was at a loss as to how to get her to let go of my slipper. I started thinking, "I can sort of imagine how a dog attack victim must feel when you try to beat on the dog, but the dog won't let go." As quickly as it started, Munchkin released her grip, and I was able to pull my foot (and therefore my slipper) away from her reach. Poor Gumby. Damn dog.

My friend Soul Sister will tell you how I kept talking myself out of buying them when I first saw them at the Spencer Gifts store at Southlake Mall in Morrow, Georgia back in 1987. I wanted them, but my budget guilted me into not getting them. Fast forward to 2004. I made up my mind that I was going to find a pair, and when I did, I was going to get them.

Needless to say, they were hard to find. When a pair did show up on eBay, it was either too expensive (sorry, I'm not paying $50.00 for them), the seller didn't have a good feedback history, or they were not the right size (I needed a size 9-10). I'm am reminded once in a while that if I'm patient, I will find what I want at the price that I want by a seller who is reliable.

Playing with New Plug-In Programs

I finally got my new laptop, and I wanted to load all the media programs on to it from my desktop computer. Strange, it seems some installation programs that I know I had saved have disappeared. Do programmers cause their files to self-destruct so we have to go and buy new licenses?

Anyway, I went to flamingpear.com and repurchased the license for SuperBladePro. I also decided to get the licenses for Flood, Glitterati, SolarCell, and LunarCell. This is the first chance I've had to play with them, and I think I'm going to like these programs. I created this picture using Glitterati first, then SolarCell, then LunarCell. I put the finishing touch on the picture by using the sunburst effect over the solar flare.


Download: 1024 x 768 or 800 x 600
Who knows? I might share more later. I had fun creating this.

Server Upgrade

The server that hosts this site is being upgraded. No updates will be posted until Friday, April 21, 2006.

UPDATE 4/23/06: Oh boy! What an upgrade! I'm getting more web space and bandwidth and having to pay less money! I love GoDaddy.com!!

First Easter

This was our first Easter without Mom, and I wanted it to be a little different from previous Easter dinners. I invited Aunt Mavis over, so it was just the three of us: Aunt Mavis, Dad, and me.

I was not going to do like Mom did in the past and stress myself out over making a huge dinner. I refused to get up early in the morning and spend hours in the kitchen preparing food. I still don't know what took her so long to make certain things because I was able to have dinner ready in less than an hour. Honestly, I think Mom piddled in the kitchen more than anything else. The only thing I needed to do ahead of time was the ham. Once it was in the oven, everything else could be done 30 minutes before serving. I decided the menu would be honey-glazed ham, garlic mashed potatoes (I added some dehydrated garlic and red bell pepper stir fry seasoning) with gravy, and green bean casserole (yes, the kind with cream of mushroom soup and those crunchy french fried onions as the topping). I forgot to bake biscuits, but I don't think anyone really missed them.

Just for the heck of it, I secretly bought two baskets, two small bags with plastic hollow camouflage eggs (8 green and 8 pink), and two bags of chocolate football-shaped candy. I filled the eggs with the chocolate, then put the eggs in the baskets. Poor Dad. He felt so bad that he didn't get me anything for Easter. I told him that having dinner with him was gift enough.


It was nice, but a little weird. Not once was Mom brought up in conversation. I'm not sure why.

Meanwhile, I've got a lot of leftover ham that needs something to be done with. Time to break out the vacuum sealer.

One more note: today is a good friend's birthday. I haven't been able to contact her for quite some time, but she is still on my mind. I hope she is reading this, is doing well, and knows that I remembered her birthday.

Old VCRs

Does anyone here own a particular VCR longer than five years? Ten years? Fifteen years?

We have five VCRs in the house: one is 17 years old, one is 16 years old, two are at least ten years old, and one is six months old. I'm seriously considering trashing a couple of them because they've become tape-eaters. One of those tape-eaters is hooked up to the main computer.

The price of VCRs have come down considerably. I remember when you had to pay as much as $600 for one. Now you can get one for less than $50. The six month old one is a combination VCR/DVD recorder. I haven't had a chance to hook it up yet, but I really need to because the others are not quite functioning well.

The remote controls for the two ten-year-old VCRs don't work. Not a good time to find this out as I was getting ready to record a show for my favorite fan site this morning. Yes, we changed the batteries, and the remotes still didn't work. Thank goodness for universal remotes. Unfortunately, I still can't get the menu option to work. That means I can't set the time, change the recording tape speed, or program the VCR. Grrrrr!!

One thing about our VCRs. They don't wear out. They die of old age. :-P

The Making of The Return

Have you ever left someplace that you loved and vowed that you would go back one day, even if it was just for a visit? After 30 years, that time has come.

When I was nearly 4 years old, my dad was stationed for six years at NAS Miramar (now a marine base) north of San Diego, California. When he retired, my sister had one more year of high school. We rented a house until she graduated. For some reason, I believed we were going to stay in San Diego. It never occurred to me until they told me we were moving all the way across the United States to a state that I had barely heard of. When we moved from San Diego in July 1975, I felt like life as I knew it was ending and another one was beginning. It was like the first 10 years of my life ceased to exist.

We were moving to Waycross, Georgia -- a completely unfamiliar environment. Instead of being surrounded by mountains and mesas, I would be surrounded by trees. Instead of experiencing 12 months of temperate weather conditions, I would experience dramatic changes in the seasons. Instead of meeting people from multi-cultural backgrounds, I would be meeting people whose ancestral lineage never strayed further than a few miles from where they currently reside.

I had trouble adjusting to my new environment. It was the middle of summer. The heat and humidity made me horribly uncomfortable. In addition, my body chemistry attracted the mosquitos. Because my body was not accustomed to the onslaught of mosquito bites I was subjected to, I became physically ill. I was having an allergic reaction to the mosquitoes' saliva. I had so many red, itchy bumps on me, I felt and looked like I was having another attack of chicken pox.

Despite the traumatic first few months, I eventually settled down and started to get used to where I lived and the people I met. You don't live someplace for 20-something years and not grow to love your environment. I still miss the weather San Diego had, but the friends I've made here are irreplaceable.

I'm planning the trip for later in the year as I'll be making a couple of stops along the way. This is a major thing for me, like one of those life-event moments. It's something I've been wanting to do ever since we left California. I know it won't be the same as when I left, but I w0uld like to revisit a couple of places we lived, go to the beach, and visit a family whose past kindnesses I will never forget.

More to follow in the months ahead.

Rest in Peace, Mom

I know it's been a long time since my last post. Psychologically and emotionally, I have not been myself.

On January 3, 2006, my mother passed away. Her online memorial can be viewed by clicking here. Even now, I watch the video tribute and still have to wipe away tears. I don't know if it's the music or the pictures or both ... I think both.

Now that she's passed on, I can reveal that the people I've referred to as Fred and Drusilla in my blog entry here were really my mom and dad. No, that wasn't their real names. My dad's name is Linder and my mother's name was Lynette. I felt the compulsion to express my feelings about the situation I was in, but I tried to respect her privacy at the same time.

Mom was so sick. I could only guess how bad she felt, but to see her go through her physical ailments deeply saddened me. There's something about pain that does something to the sufferer's psychological thinking. I guess Mom hurt bad enough that she felt she didn't deserve to be loved and cared for. Many times, she lashed out at dad, my sister, and me for whatever we did or didn't do. Later, she'd thank us profusely for doing something that gave her relief from an acutely painful position or condition.

Since my entry back in August 2004, she did go to a nursing home for about three months so she could learn to walk again. She came home December 2004, walking on her own with the aid of a walker and vowing never to go back to a nursing home again. Don't get me wrong; she was treated very well at Baptist Village. She just didn't like being hospitalized. As time went by, there were times that her blood sugar would drop too low or she'd become so sick that she risked the danger of dehydration. When she realized we were calling an ambulance for those times, she'd do her darndest to pretend she was lucid. She might have been able to fool us, but the medical technicians weren't so easily fooled.

Thank God we were able to have a good Christmas. I cooked dinner, and everyone seemed able to enjoy their meal, including Mom. She was alert and in a fairly good mood, considering her condition. It was the last day that she was able to eat a meal.

It's so hard to see a loved one suffer. It's harder to have to make any decisions against the wishes of a parent. On December 28, Mom's health deteriorated to the point that we felt she needed medical intervention. She was severely dehydrated and exhausted from throwing up. Her blood sugar level had dropped to the 30s (not good). My dad, my sister and I discussed and agreed that we needed to call 911. We went back into the bedroom to inform Mom of our decision. She protested. I stood there at the foot of her bed, looking at Dad and my sister alternately. We tried to convince her that we wanted to her to feel better and avoid further complications. She kept saying she was tired and didn't want to go to the hospital. After several seconds of silence, I said, "Okay, I'm making the decision, and I'm going to call 911.

As I walked out of the bedroom, I could still hear her begging me to wait and not call for an ambulance. If I didn't call for an ambulance and she died at the house, I would have wondered if I killed her by not acting soon enough. It was so hard dialing 911 when she begged in the background, "Please, don't call them. Let's wait." Calling the ambulance that day, as much as Mom protested, was the right thing to do. However, it still felt like the lesser of the two evils. It still felt like damned if you do, and damned if you don't.

The ambulance arrived and the technicians checked her over. They both agreed that she needed to go to the emergency room. We had done this so often with Mom that I figured she'd be back home in a couple of days. Instead, it was the last time I got to hear Mom's voice.

At the emergency room, the nurses realized just how sick she was and worked to get Mom rehydrated. Many residents of Waycross became ill with the flu and filled the hospital to capacity. Mom was admitted, but she had to spend the night in one of the ER rooms. The staff managed to bring a hospital air bed to her room so she'd be more comfortable.

The next day, she was moved to CCU. She still couldn't eat, but she could sip on water and eat ice chips. The doctors and nurses monitored her vital signs. Dad and my sister were taking turns sitting with Mom. I was still had to go to work with 10-hour shifts and 1 hour commute each way. I figured I could see Mom Saturday at the hospital, then she'd be home in a few days. I was so wrong.

Friday evening, I was on the road heading home when my cell phone rang. It was my sister, suggesting that I come by the hospital to see Mom. I told her that would be no problem and started asking some questions about Mom. My sister was evasive ... I knew something wasn't right. I asked her to tell me flat out what was wrong, and she would not give me a straight answer. I really hate it when people do that to me.

I arrived in CCU and saw my dad and sister standing at the foot of Mom's bed. Mom had been placed into an induced coma so they could put her on a respirator. My family turned and saw me, and asked me to go with them into another room ... out of earshot of Mom. In the other room, my sister told me that Mom was suffering from septic shock. I asked if that meant blood poisoning. She clarified that it is a type of blood infection in which the infection starts to attack the organs in the body. She told me that the doctors were going to try a last-ditch effort to save Mom by putting her on a respirator and giving her antibiotics to fight the infection. She quickly added that Mom's chances were pretty slim. I asked if that meant she was terminal. I looked at both my dad and sister as they nodded their heads.

Walking back into Mom's room, I quickly noticed how her complexion and overall skin color had pinked up. Her face was so relaxed. Between the oxygen and the medication, Mom wasn't suffering. She looked so peaceful. Dad showed me her legs. The month before at the doctor's office, I insisted that Mom show the doctor her feet. Reluctantly, Mom took off her shoes, and what I saw shocked me. Mom's legs and feet were purple! It looked as if her blood was pooling up in her lower limbs. With that scene in my mind, her legs looked much better in the CCU. After an hour, I went home to feed the dog. Dad and my sister said they'd be home in a little bit.

Saturday, I agreed to stay home and do some housework while Dad and my sister went back to the CCU. Mom seemed to be stabilizing. Sunday morning, however, was a different story. The medical staff at the CCU called us and told us her vital signs were becoming very unstable and strongly believed we needed to get over there. Dad and my sister let me sleep while they got dressed and went to see about Mom. Thirty minutes after they got there, they called me and suggested I get there as soon as I could. I was there within 45 minutes. I met Aunt Mavis there, too. It was New Year's Day, and we were expecting the worst. We had some touch-and-go moments, but Mom still hung on. After ten hours of waiting and anticipating, we decided to go home for the night. We all went to bed shortly afterward; we were drained.

Monday was a holiday, so I didn't have to go to work. However, I had several things I had to do to get ready for work, so I stayed home while Dad and my sister took turns sitting with Mom. By this time, we had all signed the updated Do Not Resusitate order which included the removal of the respirator and almost all of her IV fluids. Dad and Pamela both asked the doctor if Mom had any chance at all, and he said no. With this information, we agreed to let her go.

I was at work Tuesday when Pamela called me at work. She asked to speak to my supervisor first to give him a heads up on the news. He was standing at the doorway when she told me on the phone that Mom passed away at 2:15 PM. She stopped breathing, then her heart stopped beating a few minutes after. When I got off the phone, my exact words were, "It's over."

My supervisor stared at me. He told me it was okay to cry. I told him I was fine. He said that it was okay to slam my fist on the desk, throw something, scream out loud ... I told him I really was okay. He said I didn't have to put on a brave front, that it was okay to be emotional. I told him that all I felt at that moment was overwhelming relief. Mom wasn't suffering any more. She wasn't in any more pain; no more anguish. She was finally free. I was finally free. It was hell watching someone you love suffer and be miserable. It's bad when you'd be willing to do just about anything ... compromise your principles, lie, cheat, steal, maybe even kill ... to give your loved one relief. No, I couldn't feel anything at that moment except the ecstacy of relief. I think I scared him. I actually scared myself.

Since then, the grief has hit, and it hits without warning. Someone will ask me how I'm doing, and the tears will start rolling down my cheeks. I actually started crying in the middle of a staff meeting at work! Do you know how humiliating that is? I don't know how to describe how I feel. It's like I'm just going through the motions, like I'm lost. Since Mom's health severely declined last November, I've neglected the OHS site, Swamp Country Lolita's site, the GSIDIOT site ... it's been over a month since the funeral, and I haven't started on the thank you cards yet. I am so grateful for everyone's love and support during this time. The sympathy cards, the hugs, the words of encouragement, the phone calls, the e-mails, the food that was prepared and brought to the house, the flowers, the plants ... I hope these people know how humbled I was by their responses to Mom's passing. I think about their graciousness, their thoughtfulness, their friendships, and the tears overwhelm me.

I've been working on this entry for five hours, and now I'm going to bed. I don't want to go to work in the morning. All I want to do anymore is sleep or piddle around the house. Things will get better, won't they?