The court in Florida rendered their "not guilty" verdict yesterday, and the backlash was loud and clear on the Internet. On Facebook, there were overwhelming posts of outrage and disbelief. On Twitter, celebrities and other tweeters voiced their opinions on the trial, overwhelmingly negative toward the verdict. Many critics called into question the intelligence and judgment of the jury.
Look, our justice system is not perfect, but the safeguards are there to keep an innocent person from going to jail, even if it means a guilty person is legally found "not guilty." The jury did what they were supposed to do. The followed the law and the instructions given to them by their no-nonsence judge.
I am sad that Caylee Anthony lost her life way too soon and that we will never "officially" know what happened to her. Having said that, I have a few opinions to express about this whole media circus that has been the Casey Anthony investigation / trial / verdict.
(1) The investigation of Caylee's disappearance and eventually her death should not have been as greatly publicized as it was. There is a difference between reporting the news and sensationalizing it. Speaking theoretically, I feel the sensationalizing of investigators following up on leads and findings (false or fruitful) will affect any potential jury pool, making it nearly impossible for a defendant to get a fair trial. That is a precedent we don't need to perpetuate. This has been a thorn in my side with the media in general for years now, but again, just my humble opinion.
(2) During the broadcasts of the trial, I witnessed a couple of anchors from TruTv speaking of her as if she was already found guilty. Legally, you cannot do that. Now that Casey Anthony has legally been declared "not guilty" by the court of law, coudln't she acquire those videos and sue the station for slander?
(3) Though the "court of law" has found her not guilty, the "court of public opinion" is not through with Casey Anthony. People think she's planning to go out and party to celebrate her freedom? She's going to need to go into hiding! I honestly believe that any public place she goes to will give her a very chilly reception at best. She's going to have trouble finding work; who's going to risk hiring her and losing customers because of it? I seriously doubt she's going to be able to get a book or movie deal, at least not right now. It's like when OJ Simpson tried to get his book "If I Did It" published. The public backlash made the publisher think twice and eventually backed out of distributing his book. I think most studios and publishers know that there will be little positive reception because of Casey's notoriety. Maybe after a few years, but not right now.
(4) I've seen the outpouring of love toward a child explode on line, and it speaks volumes of our humanity. My concern is that we're putting so much energy to mourning (what we perceive to be) the lack of justice toward this child, but what about the children still alive who need love and guidance? What about all the other missing children ... the ones of different races, religions, or ethnic groups? Why aren't their stories being told? What about the other children who are being ignored, neglected and/or abused? I'm not trying to diminish what happened to Caylee; what happened to her was heartbreaking. However, she's already gone. Why don't we try to learn something from her case and try to prevent this from happening to another child?
Remember, I'm just expressing my opinion. Y'all may now commence to tearing my post apart. Bon appetit'
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Yeah, It's Been A Long Time
Blogger.com complicated things for me by disabling FTP transfers to my site, so I'm using their blogspot.com domain until I can figure out what to do next. I'm in the process of creating a main page for visitors to go to until I can either figure out Wordpress or find something that will allow me to write and publish online.
I'll probably create a "what's new" page as the main page to show all the updates people can click on for now.
I'll probably create a "what's new" page as the main page to show all the updates people can click on for now.
Monday, August 24, 2009
It's Time To Revisit Where You Stand
I've been reading from various sources about current political topics from the media, the bloggers, and people expressing opinions. I am noticing, especially in the political arena, that the ones who are harping the loudest about a potential legislation are the ones who WILL NOT be affected by the decision. It's not just Congress members voting as they wish while ignoring the needs of their constituents. It could be people from one state traveling to another state to protest something going on that has nothing to do with them. It could be people from other countries who feel the need to criticize what is going on in our country.
Now, I'm all for people having a right to voice their opinion. However, I draw the line when they become so vocal, so intrusive, so blindsided by their own beliefs and politics that what they say drowns out the voices of those affected. I draw the line when these people, who do not have a dog in the fight, interfere with legal events and lawful assembly.
To the mainstream media (this includes the left, the right, the libertarian, the green, and whoever else the media leans toward at one time or another): stop spinning the news and just report the facts. All you're doing is confusing people or making them wary of any news you have to report. Revisit your journalistic ethics and knock off twisting the news for ratings.
To the legislators who are ignoring constituents and avoiding the town hall participants: this is not what you were elected to do. If you can't stand the heat, it's time to get out of the kitchen. Nobody said this job was going to be easy.
As for our foreign critics: unless you or your family live in this country, unless you or your family are going to be affected by any legislative bill being voted on, unless you or your family will be adversely affected by something going on in this country ... back off and leave it to our citizens to sort out their own battles.
Finally, I am neither "right-wing" nor "left-wing." I am neither "conservative" nor "liberal." It depends on the issue as to where I stand. Stop trying to label me. I am an American, born and raised, and a registered voter. That should be enough.
Now, I'm all for people having a right to voice their opinion. However, I draw the line when they become so vocal, so intrusive, so blindsided by their own beliefs and politics that what they say drowns out the voices of those affected. I draw the line when these people, who do not have a dog in the fight, interfere with legal events and lawful assembly.
To the mainstream media (this includes the left, the right, the libertarian, the green, and whoever else the media leans toward at one time or another): stop spinning the news and just report the facts. All you're doing is confusing people or making them wary of any news you have to report. Revisit your journalistic ethics and knock off twisting the news for ratings.
To the legislators who are ignoring constituents and avoiding the town hall participants: this is not what you were elected to do. If you can't stand the heat, it's time to get out of the kitchen. Nobody said this job was going to be easy.
As for our foreign critics: unless you or your family live in this country, unless you or your family are going to be affected by any legislative bill being voted on, unless you or your family will be adversely affected by something going on in this country ... back off and leave it to our citizens to sort out their own battles.
Finally, I am neither "right-wing" nor "left-wing." I am neither "conservative" nor "liberal." It depends on the issue as to where I stand. Stop trying to label me. I am an American, born and raised, and a registered voter. That should be enough.
Monday, August 17, 2009
PeTA Can Kiss My Big Fat Whale Butt
I had finished playing FarmVille in my FaceBook account while listening to the news on WJXT. I heard a news segment about a new billboard up in Jacksonville from PeTA. The billboard said "Save the Whales" and "Lose the blubber ... go vegan." It had a picture of a bikini-wearing obese woman in the foreground and a beach scene in the background.
Any respect I had for PeTA went out the window.
One of the reporters spoke with Ashley Byrne, a representative of the organization. She agreed that it was provocative, but it was to encourage women to lose the weight by becoming vegans.
Encourage? Outrage would be a more appropriate word.
An entry in Deceiver.com shows that I'm not the only one who was upset by this billboard. What is this, open season on fat people because it's now politically incorrect to make fun of and discriminate against anybody else? Deceiver.com went a step further and compiled a list of 'vegetarian' items from PeTA's web site that would not help anyone with losing weight.
According to Kim Hayes from the Orlando Sentinel, "I know the truth hurts, but this isn't the truth. And it all seems a bit harsh for an organization advocating the "ethical" treatment of living things, doesn't it?" This is from a health and fitness reporter. She certainly nailed it on the head.
Seems to me PeTA is more interested in being provocative in their message with their "in your face" tactics than actually having people digest their message in a non-threatening manner. PeTA's tactics have been called into question before. Two examples that immediately come to mind are (1) the alleged funding to defend those who have been accused of arson, and (2) the taking in people's pets who have to give them up, promising to find new homes for the animals, then euthanizing the animals and dumping the bodies in dumpsters. Links to other sites with this information are at the bottom of this blog entry.
People who know me know that I am an animal rights supporter. I support the Best Friends Society, ASPCA, and the Humane Society of the United States. I've also lent support to our local animal shelter and made various donations to animal shelters at other locations. There are way too many other animal welfare organizations out there who, in my honest opinion, do more good than anything PeTA has done that could counteract the proverbial face-slapping they've done to human beings over the years.
So like I said ... PeTA can kiss my big fat whale butt. With PeTA's big mouth, they can do it in one smooch!!
PeTA Workers Charged With Animal Cruelty
PeTA workers 'dumped 80 dead animals in skip'
PeTA Employees Charged With Animal Cruelty
PeTA and Terrorism: The Real Deal
PeTA's Dirty Secret
Any respect I had for PeTA went out the window.
One of the reporters spoke with Ashley Byrne, a representative of the organization. She agreed that it was provocative, but it was to encourage women to lose the weight by becoming vegans.
Encourage? Outrage would be a more appropriate word.
An entry in Deceiver.com shows that I'm not the only one who was upset by this billboard. What is this, open season on fat people because it's now politically incorrect to make fun of and discriminate against anybody else? Deceiver.com went a step further and compiled a list of 'vegetarian' items from PeTA's web site that would not help anyone with losing weight.
According to Kim Hayes from the Orlando Sentinel, "I know the truth hurts, but this isn't the truth. And it all seems a bit harsh for an organization advocating the "ethical" treatment of living things, doesn't it?" This is from a health and fitness reporter. She certainly nailed it on the head.
Seems to me PeTA is more interested in being provocative in their message with their "in your face" tactics than actually having people digest their message in a non-threatening manner. PeTA's tactics have been called into question before. Two examples that immediately come to mind are (1) the alleged funding to defend those who have been accused of arson, and (2) the taking in people's pets who have to give them up, promising to find new homes for the animals, then euthanizing the animals and dumping the bodies in dumpsters. Links to other sites with this information are at the bottom of this blog entry.
People who know me know that I am an animal rights supporter. I support the Best Friends Society, ASPCA, and the Humane Society of the United States. I've also lent support to our local animal shelter and made various donations to animal shelters at other locations. There are way too many other animal welfare organizations out there who, in my honest opinion, do more good than anything PeTA has done that could counteract the proverbial face-slapping they've done to human beings over the years.
So like I said ... PeTA can kiss my big fat whale butt. With PeTA's big mouth, they can do it in one smooch!!
PeTA Workers Charged With Animal Cruelty
PeTA workers 'dumped 80 dead animals in skip'
PeTA Employees Charged With Animal Cruelty
PeTA and Terrorism: The Real Deal
PeTA's Dirty Secret
Sunday, August 09, 2009
TLC's "Toddlers and Tiaras"
I've been watching a show called Toddlers and Tiaras on the TLC channel. No, I'm not watching the show for entertainment. It's more like watching something because you can't believe that this stuff really exists.
The age of these children, in my honest opinion, are too young. I strongly suspect the editors of the TLC show have to do some creative editing to make the show look like a positive event for these very young children. You know, I'd be willing to give them the argument that these pageants teach self confidence if it weren't for all the other fakery that is pushed on the children. I'm sorry, but with all the news reports of pedophiles enticing young children for immoral purposes, WHY are we allowing toddlers to look like very young adults? Tons of makeup, wigs, hair extensions, fake teeth, fake eyelashes ... I'm past offended. I'm disgusted.
These toddler pageants are not for the kids; they're for the parents. The parents claim they're encouraging their children to participate, but when they're only three, four, even six years of age, I suspect that it's more forced. A child is not going to want to disappoint mommy by saying no I don't want to do this, so they go through the motions to make mommy happy. Even if I give in to the argument that the child wants to participate in these toddler pageants, the message they're teaching the kids is still skewed. You're trying to teach a child self confidence, but yet you have this child put on fake teeth to cover missing teeth, hair extensions because the hair is not "full enough," and enough makeup to rival the late Tammy Faye Messner? Spare me! You're making your child look like a prosti-tot. Sorry if I offend any readers, but I am genuinely concerned about the mindset the child participants are going to grow up with.
I'm not knocking beauty pageants in general. I just think that they should wait until the child is 13 to enter any beauty pageants. Even then, there should be a ban on excessive makeup and such. Now, if you want to make it a costume contest or a fantasy character contest, THEN by all means do the makeup, fake hair, fake eyelashes, and all that other stuff. Just don't call it a beauty contest.
The age of these children, in my honest opinion, are too young. I strongly suspect the editors of the TLC show have to do some creative editing to make the show look like a positive event for these very young children. You know, I'd be willing to give them the argument that these pageants teach self confidence if it weren't for all the other fakery that is pushed on the children. I'm sorry, but with all the news reports of pedophiles enticing young children for immoral purposes, WHY are we allowing toddlers to look like very young adults? Tons of makeup, wigs, hair extensions, fake teeth, fake eyelashes ... I'm past offended. I'm disgusted.
These toddler pageants are not for the kids; they're for the parents. The parents claim they're encouraging their children to participate, but when they're only three, four, even six years of age, I suspect that it's more forced. A child is not going to want to disappoint mommy by saying no I don't want to do this, so they go through the motions to make mommy happy. Even if I give in to the argument that the child wants to participate in these toddler pageants, the message they're teaching the kids is still skewed. You're trying to teach a child self confidence, but yet you have this child put on fake teeth to cover missing teeth, hair extensions because the hair is not "full enough," and enough makeup to rival the late Tammy Faye Messner? Spare me! You're making your child look like a prosti-tot. Sorry if I offend any readers, but I am genuinely concerned about the mindset the child participants are going to grow up with.
I'm not knocking beauty pageants in general. I just think that they should wait until the child is 13 to enter any beauty pageants. Even then, there should be a ban on excessive makeup and such. Now, if you want to make it a costume contest or a fantasy character contest, THEN by all means do the makeup, fake hair, fake eyelashes, and all that other stuff. Just don't call it a beauty contest.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
The Bitching Post
Yeah, I'm in THAT kind of mood.
Been reading the news on the television and the Internet. I watch some reality shows and am amazed at how some people act and live. Even my own personal interactions with others can leave me feeling disrespected or misunderstood. Reading and watching current events, I'm finding strong feelings stirring in my soul.
Out of curiosity, I started compiling a list of things that bug me. It ended up growing larger than I anticipated. You know, what sets us off or makes us react with, "You know, I don't like it when ... " Some of these things are just petty annoyances, but some of these things really piss me off.
In no particular order, here the things that bug me:
People who park in handicap parking spaces but do not have handicap permits nor handicap tags on their vehicle.
People who take up a motorized shopping cart to keep their kids entertained.
Stores whose policy does not allow employees to repossess a motorized cart from a customer who clearly doesn't need one.
Store employees who make no attempt to keep motorized store carts charged up.
People who claim they're being oppressed or prevented from succeeding in life, then point to those who have done well for themselves and accuse them of selling out.
People who borrow money, get a sudden windfall of cash, and do not offer any of it toward what they owe you.
People who file frivilous lawsuits.
Lawyers who take frivilous cases for said lawsuits.
People who claim they want less government control in their lives but yet are first in line for whatever government handout they can get a hold of.
People who reject something being said just because it's coming from a member of an opposite political party.
Narcissists
Rude people
Arrogant people
Dishonest people
Thieves
Cruel people
Mean people
Fat jokes
Child abusers
Spouse abusers
Elderly abusers
Gold diggers
Deadbeat parents
Mothers who keep having babies because "it's their right," but then constantly pawn the children off on other people to go partying.
Mothers who keep having babies so they can get a larger welfare check.
Men who will not learn from their first mistake and do something to prevent another accidental pregnancy (like using contraception, getting a vasectomy, keeping their pants on ...)
Women who get pregnant to trap a man.
People who collect child support but spend the funds for frivilous items that have nothing to do with the children.
People who live off the child support as their sole household income.
People who let a boyfriend or girlfriend move in and live off the child support as the sole household income.
Parents who think it's funny or cute when their children misbehave.
People who demand that their point of view be respected and honored but will not do the same for you.
People who treat you one way when it's just the two of you, but treat you differently when other people are around.
People who see you have two or more of something (that you paid for) and think it's their right to have one of them. Then when you object, they respond with "You don't need two of (whatever)."
People who think it's fun to torture an animal.
People who show disrespect to military troops and their families because they oppose the war they're fighting in.
People who demand their free speech rights but will not take responsibility for what they say.
Officers who, upon checking my bag for banned personal electronic gadgets like cell phones, see my diabetic glucometer and loudly exclaim, "That's a cell phone!!" in a manner that would lead people to believe they just spotted America's most wanted criminal.
Officers who drive 50 miles per hour in a 55 MPH zone.
Supervisors who have taken a personal dislike to you and take it out on you under the guise of "doing their job."
Celebrities who act like authority figures for their favorite cause and loudly declare you wrong if you don't agree with them.
People who want to take away my constitutional right to bear arms.
Internet spam.
People who take it personally when you express an opinion.
Been reading the news on the television and the Internet. I watch some reality shows and am amazed at how some people act and live. Even my own personal interactions with others can leave me feeling disrespected or misunderstood. Reading and watching current events, I'm finding strong feelings stirring in my soul.
Out of curiosity, I started compiling a list of things that bug me. It ended up growing larger than I anticipated. You know, what sets us off or makes us react with, "You know, I don't like it when ... " Some of these things are just petty annoyances, but some of these things really piss me off.
In no particular order, here the things that bug me:
People who park in handicap parking spaces but do not have handicap permits nor handicap tags on their vehicle.
People who take up a motorized shopping cart to keep their kids entertained.
Stores whose policy does not allow employees to repossess a motorized cart from a customer who clearly doesn't need one.
Store employees who make no attempt to keep motorized store carts charged up.
People who claim they're being oppressed or prevented from succeeding in life, then point to those who have done well for themselves and accuse them of selling out.
People who borrow money, get a sudden windfall of cash, and do not offer any of it toward what they owe you.
People who file frivilous lawsuits.
Lawyers who take frivilous cases for said lawsuits.
People who claim they want less government control in their lives but yet are first in line for whatever government handout they can get a hold of.
People who reject something being said just because it's coming from a member of an opposite political party.
Narcissists
Rude people
Arrogant people
Dishonest people
Thieves
Cruel people
Mean people
Fat jokes
Child abusers
Spouse abusers
Elderly abusers
Gold diggers
Deadbeat parents
Mothers who keep having babies because "it's their right," but then constantly pawn the children off on other people to go partying.
Mothers who keep having babies so they can get a larger welfare check.
Men who will not learn from their first mistake and do something to prevent another accidental pregnancy (like using contraception, getting a vasectomy, keeping their pants on ...)
Women who get pregnant to trap a man.
People who collect child support but spend the funds for frivilous items that have nothing to do with the children.
People who live off the child support as their sole household income.
People who let a boyfriend or girlfriend move in and live off the child support as the sole household income.
Parents who think it's funny or cute when their children misbehave.
People who demand that their point of view be respected and honored but will not do the same for you.
People who treat you one way when it's just the two of you, but treat you differently when other people are around.
People who see you have two or more of something (that you paid for) and think it's their right to have one of them. Then when you object, they respond with "You don't need two of (whatever)."
People who think it's fun to torture an animal.
People who show disrespect to military troops and their families because they oppose the war they're fighting in.
People who demand their free speech rights but will not take responsibility for what they say.
Officers who, upon checking my bag for banned personal electronic gadgets like cell phones, see my diabetic glucometer and loudly exclaim, "That's a cell phone!!" in a manner that would lead people to believe they just spotted America's most wanted criminal.
Officers who drive 50 miles per hour in a 55 MPH zone.
Supervisors who have taken a personal dislike to you and take it out on you under the guise of "doing their job."
Celebrities who act like authority figures for their favorite cause and loudly declare you wrong if you don't agree with them.
People who want to take away my constitutional right to bear arms.
Internet spam.
People who take it personally when you express an opinion.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
One of those Days
Ever had one of those days (or one of those weeks) in which you just have your fill with other people's bullshizzle and you just want to say, "Whatever! I am outta here!" You know, phrases like, "Uh uh pal; talk to the hand," come to mind?
We all do some degree of observing human nature. It may involve analyzing the behavior of one or of many. It may even involve analyzing one's own behavior. Some people's behavior is automatic and done without thinking. Others behave in a manner that is purposefully deliberate.
Whether the behavior is good or bad is, in essence, subjective. The very actions of one person can be perceived as friendly and sociable. Those same actions can be perceived as pushy and nose by someone else. When I hear the phrase, "You can't please everybody," I know very well just how true it is.
I guess maybe my frustration may be stemming from an observation about certain people and how they interact with others. The problem is then compounded by my love and devotion for those affected. If I ignore what I see, I'm could be neglecting a friend in need. If I put in my two-cents worth, I could be interfering in something that may be none of my business. Depending on the person/people involved, it's hard to see where the line is drawn.
I tend to be analytical in my thinking. In fact, I've been told that I can overthink a simple situation. It's a blessing and a curse at the same time. At the same time that I've avoided potential problems, I've also created problems because I overanalyzed the situation.
This entry may seem vague, but it actually applies to several things going on in my life right now. No, I'm not unhappy, but I'm at that point now that I'm "analyzing" where I am with my life and what I want to do in the future. I'm trying to hang in there with my current job until I've put in enough years to retire. I've thought about going back to school. I've thought about opening up my own business, preferably home-based. I've thought about taking more road trips. I've thought about doing more hands-on volunteer work. I'm sure I'll change my mind several times before that day finally comes.
I've made the comment that on the day I retire, I'm going to pop in a CD with Johnny Paycheck's hit "Take This Job and Shove It" and play it full blast as I leave the parking lot. Then on the day after, I was going to a local beauty salon to get my hair dyed cherry red. What's funny is that people think I'm joking about the hair deal. They don't know that when I was a little girl, all the females in my coloring books had red hair. I wanted red hair. I don't really know why; I just did. It may never happen, but I've learned to "never say never."
Did sleep deprivation cause me to write this missive? Maybe. If I stay awake longer than 20 hours straight, I start to get silly like I'm under the influence of alcohol. However, I've been only getting about four hours of sleep a night for the last two nights. I think I'm going to wrap this up and go to bed.
We all do some degree of observing human nature. It may involve analyzing the behavior of one or of many. It may even involve analyzing one's own behavior. Some people's behavior is automatic and done without thinking. Others behave in a manner that is purposefully deliberate.
Whether the behavior is good or bad is, in essence, subjective. The very actions of one person can be perceived as friendly and sociable. Those same actions can be perceived as pushy and nose by someone else. When I hear the phrase, "You can't please everybody," I know very well just how true it is.
I guess maybe my frustration may be stemming from an observation about certain people and how they interact with others. The problem is then compounded by my love and devotion for those affected. If I ignore what I see, I'm could be neglecting a friend in need. If I put in my two-cents worth, I could be interfering in something that may be none of my business. Depending on the person/people involved, it's hard to see where the line is drawn.
I tend to be analytical in my thinking. In fact, I've been told that I can overthink a simple situation. It's a blessing and a curse at the same time. At the same time that I've avoided potential problems, I've also created problems because I overanalyzed the situation.
This entry may seem vague, but it actually applies to several things going on in my life right now. No, I'm not unhappy, but I'm at that point now that I'm "analyzing" where I am with my life and what I want to do in the future. I'm trying to hang in there with my current job until I've put in enough years to retire. I've thought about going back to school. I've thought about opening up my own business, preferably home-based. I've thought about taking more road trips. I've thought about doing more hands-on volunteer work. I'm sure I'll change my mind several times before that day finally comes.
I've made the comment that on the day I retire, I'm going to pop in a CD with Johnny Paycheck's hit "Take This Job and Shove It" and play it full blast as I leave the parking lot. Then on the day after, I was going to a local beauty salon to get my hair dyed cherry red. What's funny is that people think I'm joking about the hair deal. They don't know that when I was a little girl, all the females in my coloring books had red hair. I wanted red hair. I don't really know why; I just did. It may never happen, but I've learned to "never say never."
Did sleep deprivation cause me to write this missive? Maybe. If I stay awake longer than 20 hours straight, I start to get silly like I'm under the influence of alcohol. However, I've been only getting about four hours of sleep a night for the last two nights. I think I'm going to wrap this up and go to bed.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Know Someone Like This?
Malingerer - a word that perfectly describes someone who whines and groans to show illness, then perkily gabs on the phone with friends.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Meowzer, Xena, and Gabby
Introducing ...
The latest editions to my family:
This is Meowzer
This is Xena
This is Gabby
I just hope I haven't bitten off more than I can chew.
The latest editions to my family:
This is Meowzer
This is Xena
This is Gabby
I just hope I haven't bitten off more than I can chew.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Three Little Kittens
I adopted THREE kittens. They are all female and are six weeks old. Their names are Meowzer, Xena, and Gabby. Pictures to come this weekend. Meowzer is solid black with a couple of small white patches, Xena is a grey tabby with a white chest and white feet, and Gabby is a grey tabby with no white patches.
You should have seen poor Taz when I opened the box and all three saw her: all three let out a collective hiss at her, and Taz backed up with a look on her face like "WTF?" and whined as if she were saying "what did I do?" She then leaped behind me on the loveseat so that I was between her and the kittens and whimpered. My german shepard whose name is TAZ (as in the cartoon character Taz - the Tasmanian Devil) is afraid of kittens :-( The next few days are going to be interesting ...
You should have seen poor Taz when I opened the box and all three saw her: all three let out a collective hiss at her, and Taz backed up with a look on her face like "WTF?" and whined as if she were saying "what did I do?" She then leaped behind me on the loveseat so that I was between her and the kittens and whimpered. My german shepard whose name is TAZ (as in the cartoon character Taz - the Tasmanian Devil) is afraid of kittens :-( The next few days are going to be interesting ...
Saturday, January 31, 2009
R.I.P Munchkin
This is to let y'all know that I had to euthanize Munchkin Friday morning. I'm grateful I still have Taz; it keeps the loss from being brutally painful. However, I'm still asking myself if I did the right thing. Her arthritis and her deteriorating kidneys were affecting her temperment. She was Dad's favorite dog ... and my heart.
Please forgive me if I'm not the most social person for the next week or two.
Please forgive me if I'm not the most social person for the next week or two.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Along Came A Spider
Yesterday evening, I came home to a hot house. My air conditioner was not working. The fans were blowing, but the outside unit was dead silent. It was 92 degrees inside the house and both my dogs were on the floor panting.
It was 7pm on a Friday at the start of the Labor Day weekend, so I knew it was going to be a challenge to find someone willing to come this weekend, much less that night.
I called four companies:
The first one, I got an answering machine, telling me their regular service hours and who to call in case it was an emergency. I was unable to leave a message. Was my situation an emergency? Probably not to them.
The second one had two phone numbers: one local and one toll-free. There was no answer on either one. I waited two minutes before hanging up on the first one. The toll-free one disconnected after less than a minute.
I got an answering machine on the third one, and I was at least able to leave a message. I still haven't heard from him, though.
The fourth one, I got a LIVE PERSON!! She was so pleasant and understanding! She contacted a technician, and he got here in less than an hour. He got the compressor going and was finished in less than 30 minutes. He also checked my freon level, my coils, and other things while he was there. He assured me that my unit was in good condition and should be okay. The bill was less than $100.00 total. I was so grateful to this man; by the time he arrived here, my arms and legs were slick with sweat. If he was unable to make the repairs that night, my dogs and I were going to stay in a motel.
So what was wrong with my air conditioner? A spider ... yes, A SPIDER!! ... got inside the unit and trashed the contacts, breaking the electrical flow to the compressor.
I hope it was a painful death for the spider.
It was 7pm on a Friday at the start of the Labor Day weekend, so I knew it was going to be a challenge to find someone willing to come this weekend, much less that night.
I called four companies:
The first one, I got an answering machine, telling me their regular service hours and who to call in case it was an emergency. I was unable to leave a message. Was my situation an emergency? Probably not to them.
The second one had two phone numbers: one local and one toll-free. There was no answer on either one. I waited two minutes before hanging up on the first one. The toll-free one disconnected after less than a minute.
I got an answering machine on the third one, and I was at least able to leave a message. I still haven't heard from him, though.
The fourth one, I got a LIVE PERSON!! She was so pleasant and understanding! She contacted a technician, and he got here in less than an hour. He got the compressor going and was finished in less than 30 minutes. He also checked my freon level, my coils, and other things while he was there. He assured me that my unit was in good condition and should be okay. The bill was less than $100.00 total. I was so grateful to this man; by the time he arrived here, my arms and legs were slick with sweat. If he was unable to make the repairs that night, my dogs and I were going to stay in a motel.
So what was wrong with my air conditioner? A spider ... yes, A SPIDER!! ... got inside the unit and trashed the contacts, breaking the electrical flow to the compressor.
I hope it was a painful death for the spider.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Wear Your Seatbelts!
I was in an auto accident this morning on my way to work. It is only by the grace of God, wearing my seatbelt, and having an airbag that I was able to walk away with only bruises. My truck is totalled.
I was about to go through an intersection, and I had the green light. To my right, a guy in another truck didn't see his red light and drove out in front of me. There was no way I could stop in time. I slammed into where the fender meets the driver-side door. I could see the hood of my truck crumple from the impact. I felt pain on the right side of my chest and a couple of toes on the left foot. I could hear my truck's horn go off. The airbag deployed so quickly that it was deflated before I realized it went off.
The impact caused his truck and my truck to deflect at 45-degree angles. My truck continued to move forward toward the tall steel American Eyeglass Center sign across the highway, hitting the metal post head on. Fully conscious, I noticed the fumes from the airbag floating around inside the cab of my truck. Remember what my sister said about respiratory irritation from the fumes, I made a conscious effort to breathe as little as possible.
My first thought was to get out of the truck. I pulled my door handle, and the door moved just slightly. The fender was bent into the door track, making it hard to open the door. With all my strength, I managed to push the door wide enough for me to slide out of the cab.
I tentatively stepped onto the grass and surveyed my surroundings. I was alive. I wasn't crippled. I was aware of my surroundings. Surveying the truck, I realized just how hard of a double-impact I took.
People who had seen what had happened to me came by to ask me if I was okay. My right breast was really sore, and two toes on my right foot were throbbing and painful to the touch ... but I was otherwise okay. I discovered later that I banged up my right knee (yes, the bad knee) as it is now swollen and painful to the touch. I'm unable to wear nothing but a flip flop on the right foot. I have a 10:30am appointment with my doctor for a check up.
The guy who pulled out in front of me? He wasn't wearing a seatbelt. When I hit him, his truck deflected 45 degrees to the right into the center lane of the road I was driving on. The impact propelled him out of his seat and out of his truck through the passenger-side door. When I first saw him sitting on the hard, cold asphalt, I thought he was just sitting down getting his bearings straight. I had no idea at the time that's where he landed.
The police came to talk to us and investigate the accident. The other driver readily admitted he ran the red light and drove out in front of me. The poor guy could not stop apologizing to me. My heart went out to him, and I gave him a hug. One of the officers was very surprised by my actions and commented that he witnessed a Kodak moment because that's just something he doesn't see everyday. Yes, he was charged with running a stop light. It was his first accident, and I really feel bad for him. It's bad enough to be in an automobile accident, but to carry the burden of knowing you caused it? Now, if he had been a jerk, my attitude toward him would have been a different story. He wasn't a jerk, he was a nice guy who made a mistake and didn't mean to make the mistake. He was remorseful and apologetic. Because he didn't wear his seatbelt, I have a feeling he's going to physically feel a whole lot worse than I will.
Please everybody ... I'm living proof that seatbelts save lives and greatly diminish injury. He wasn't wearing a seatbelt, and look what happened to him. A lot of good that airbag is going to do you if you're hit from the side.
I thank almighty God for having mercy on me, because this situation could have easily been worse.
Pictures coming soon ...
I was about to go through an intersection, and I had the green light. To my right, a guy in another truck didn't see his red light and drove out in front of me. There was no way I could stop in time. I slammed into where the fender meets the driver-side door. I could see the hood of my truck crumple from the impact. I felt pain on the right side of my chest and a couple of toes on the left foot. I could hear my truck's horn go off. The airbag deployed so quickly that it was deflated before I realized it went off.
The impact caused his truck and my truck to deflect at 45-degree angles. My truck continued to move forward toward the tall steel American Eyeglass Center sign across the highway, hitting the metal post head on. Fully conscious, I noticed the fumes from the airbag floating around inside the cab of my truck. Remember what my sister said about respiratory irritation from the fumes, I made a conscious effort to breathe as little as possible.
My first thought was to get out of the truck. I pulled my door handle, and the door moved just slightly. The fender was bent into the door track, making it hard to open the door. With all my strength, I managed to push the door wide enough for me to slide out of the cab.
I tentatively stepped onto the grass and surveyed my surroundings. I was alive. I wasn't crippled. I was aware of my surroundings. Surveying the truck, I realized just how hard of a double-impact I took.
People who had seen what had happened to me came by to ask me if I was okay. My right breast was really sore, and two toes on my right foot were throbbing and painful to the touch ... but I was otherwise okay. I discovered later that I banged up my right knee (yes, the bad knee) as it is now swollen and painful to the touch. I'm unable to wear nothing but a flip flop on the right foot. I have a 10:30am appointment with my doctor for a check up.
The guy who pulled out in front of me? He wasn't wearing a seatbelt. When I hit him, his truck deflected 45 degrees to the right into the center lane of the road I was driving on. The impact propelled him out of his seat and out of his truck through the passenger-side door. When I first saw him sitting on the hard, cold asphalt, I thought he was just sitting down getting his bearings straight. I had no idea at the time that's where he landed.
The police came to talk to us and investigate the accident. The other driver readily admitted he ran the red light and drove out in front of me. The poor guy could not stop apologizing to me. My heart went out to him, and I gave him a hug. One of the officers was very surprised by my actions and commented that he witnessed a Kodak moment because that's just something he doesn't see everyday. Yes, he was charged with running a stop light. It was his first accident, and I really feel bad for him. It's bad enough to be in an automobile accident, but to carry the burden of knowing you caused it? Now, if he had been a jerk, my attitude toward him would have been a different story. He wasn't a jerk, he was a nice guy who made a mistake and didn't mean to make the mistake. He was remorseful and apologetic. Because he didn't wear his seatbelt, I have a feeling he's going to physically feel a whole lot worse than I will.
Please everybody ... I'm living proof that seatbelts save lives and greatly diminish injury. He wasn't wearing a seatbelt, and look what happened to him. A lot of good that airbag is going to do you if you're hit from the side.
I thank almighty God for having mercy on me, because this situation could have easily been worse.
Pictures coming soon ...
Friday, December 14, 2007
Gecko's Plans Goes Awash
Found an unpleasant little surprise while I was taking clothes out of the washing machine yesterday evening ... a dead critter. What kind of critter, you ask? Well, let me put it this way: I don't think the Geico gecko will want to visit our house anymore.
I put the clothes in the machine yesterday morning before I left to go to work. I don't know whether or not he was alive when I turned the machine on. Maybe he wanted to go surfing. Maybe he thought it was a giant hot tub. Maybe he just wanted to go for a spin. In any case, he wasn't looking too good when I found him ... very little green and a lot of dark grey.
Now, I think geckos are cute, and I'm not afraid of them. They don't freak me out at all. However, I don't know what it is about dead critters that make me suddenly not want to be around them, much less touch them. I was truly grossing out over the situation, wondering, "EWWWW! How am I going to get him OUT?!"
Luckily, my late dad was a genius in getting those extended grabber thingys to help him pick things up around the house. With a look on my face that would make someone think I was handling toxic waste (I think I would have rather handled the toxic waste), I managed to pick up the dead carcass and put it in the trash can.
There was a trouser sock remaining in the washing machine. I noticed the critter's tail had broken off and was stuck to it. I almost threw the sock away. However, I picked it up with the grabber and managed to pull the tail off ... with my bare hand. Ick, gag me! I hate that he died the way he did, but did it have to be in MY washing machine? EEEEWWWWW!!!
I rewashed the clothes using hot water, soap, and white vinegar. I wasn't about to take a chance on them developing dead animal funk. I think I'll wash them one more time before I put them in the dryer.
I put the clothes in the machine yesterday morning before I left to go to work. I don't know whether or not he was alive when I turned the machine on. Maybe he wanted to go surfing. Maybe he thought it was a giant hot tub. Maybe he just wanted to go for a spin. In any case, he wasn't looking too good when I found him ... very little green and a lot of dark grey.
Now, I think geckos are cute, and I'm not afraid of them. They don't freak me out at all. However, I don't know what it is about dead critters that make me suddenly not want to be around them, much less touch them. I was truly grossing out over the situation, wondering, "EWWWW! How am I going to get him OUT?!"
Luckily, my late dad was a genius in getting those extended grabber thingys to help him pick things up around the house. With a look on my face that would make someone think I was handling toxic waste (I think I would have rather handled the toxic waste), I managed to pick up the dead carcass and put it in the trash can.
There was a trouser sock remaining in the washing machine. I noticed the critter's tail had broken off and was stuck to it. I almost threw the sock away. However, I picked it up with the grabber and managed to pull the tail off ... with my bare hand. Ick, gag me! I hate that he died the way he did, but did it have to be in MY washing machine? EEEEWWWWW!!!
I rewashed the clothes using hot water, soap, and white vinegar. I wasn't about to take a chance on them developing dead animal funk. I think I'll wash them one more time before I put them in the dryer.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
Infomercial Scams
I'm sitting here with my television turned on the TV Guide channel. I just finished listening to a commercial for the Walk Fit orthotic foot supports, wondering if they really worked or if they were just as scammy as the other informercials that air on television. I have back and knee pain, so yes it got my attention, but I'm very cynical about "miracle products."
I used Google and typed in "Walk Fit" into the search engine space. An interesting web site came up: infomercialscams.com. I clicked on the link and came up on the section about Walk Fit. I read enough of the submitted complaints to realize that I did not need to make the purchase.
I also noticed a banner at the top of the screen stating that Video Professor "has issued a subpoena to infomercialratings.com and infomercialscams.com. Learn what they are trying to do with your PRIVATE information! CLICK HERE!"
Very interesting reading. According to the site, Video Professor is suing their own customers.
Not all informercials advertise junk products. I have ordered the IRobot Scooba, the Flowbee, and the Magic Bullet. I'm very pleased with all three products. They work as promised, and the shipping charges were fair.
Still, it bothers me that the products that don't work like they should can advertise and mislead people. Even with the disclaimer by the television stations and channels that "the following advertisement does not necessarily reflect the views of the (insert name here) Channel," it bothers me that there does not seem to be any accountability for allowing, much less being paid for, the infomercials to be broadcast.
Until then, it's still Caveat Emptor for the buying public. Do your research and homework before you buy. It's easy to do. Just go to Google.com and type in "infomercial scams."
I used Google and typed in "Walk Fit" into the search engine space. An interesting web site came up: infomercialscams.com. I clicked on the link and came up on the section about Walk Fit. I read enough of the submitted complaints to realize that I did not need to make the purchase.
I also noticed a banner at the top of the screen stating that Video Professor "has issued a subpoena to infomercialratings.com and infomercialscams.com. Learn what they are trying to do with your PRIVATE information! CLICK HERE!"
Very interesting reading. According to the site, Video Professor is suing their own customers.
Not all informercials advertise junk products. I have ordered the IRobot Scooba, the Flowbee, and the Magic Bullet. I'm very pleased with all three products. They work as promised, and the shipping charges were fair.
Still, it bothers me that the products that don't work like they should can advertise and mislead people. Even with the disclaimer by the television stations and channels that "the following advertisement does not necessarily reflect the views of the (insert name here) Channel," it bothers me that there does not seem to be any accountability for allowing, much less being paid for, the infomercials to be broadcast.
Until then, it's still Caveat Emptor for the buying public. Do your research and homework before you buy. It's easy to do. Just go to Google.com and type in "infomercial scams."
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Jazz Musician Dexter Porter
I'm listening to a new CD from artist Dexter Porter, and it's worth a listen! It combines his smooth, velvety voice with piano-dominant jazz music. It's relaxing without putting you to sleep ... it's just good music.
Visit his web site at http://www.dexterporter.com and you can listen to samples of his latest CD Crazy She Calls Me. The album is available at http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/dexterporter and iTunes.com.
He also has a MySpace page: http://myspace.com/dexterporter
Let's support the artists who actually have talent.
Visit his web site at http://www.dexterporter.com and you can listen to samples of his latest CD Crazy She Calls Me. The album is available at http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/dexterporter and iTunes.com.
He also has a MySpace page: http://myspace.com/dexterporter
Let's support the artists who actually have talent.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
I Am Cooking, Hear Me Roar
My friend Soul Sister brought her boyfriend, her daughter, and her daughter's friend to help my sister and I move stuff from the house to outside storage.
From their arrival, we were hit with delays: dead batteries on power tools, frozen bolts and screws, thunder, lightning, and rain.
After three hours, I started to cook dinner because everyone was getting hungry. I had just put the raw hamburger patties and hot dogs on the indoor grill when we heard a loud clap of thunder and the lights flickered as if the power was about to go out.
Wanting to make my wishes known to the powers that controlled the electricity to my house that I was NOT going to deal with another delay, I defiantly held my spatula and blurted out, "Don't even think about it!!!"
My guests laughed at me, and even I knew what I said was ridiculous. However, it must have worked. The lights flickered no more, the electricity didn't go out, and we were able to munch on our grilled burgers and dogs with french fries, and pork and beans, despite the stormy weather outside.
They're coming back tomorrow to try to move this stuff again. God bless them. Let's hope the weather isn't hot and there's no rain.
From their arrival, we were hit with delays: dead batteries on power tools, frozen bolts and screws, thunder, lightning, and rain.
After three hours, I started to cook dinner because everyone was getting hungry. I had just put the raw hamburger patties and hot dogs on the indoor grill when we heard a loud clap of thunder and the lights flickered as if the power was about to go out.
Wanting to make my wishes known to the powers that controlled the electricity to my house that I was NOT going to deal with another delay, I defiantly held my spatula and blurted out, "Don't even think about it!!!"
My guests laughed at me, and even I knew what I said was ridiculous. However, it must have worked. The lights flickered no more, the electricity didn't go out, and we were able to munch on our grilled burgers and dogs with french fries, and pork and beans, despite the stormy weather outside.
They're coming back tomorrow to try to move this stuff again. God bless them. Let's hope the weather isn't hot and there's no rain.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
I'm Grateful, but I'm Also Peeved
Please note the date this missive was written: June 2, 2007. This was before the huge wildfire that sprouted up the first week of July 2007. It's a very serious fire, and my prayers are with the firefighters and all those affected.
Despite the lack of media attention, those of us in southeast Georgia have been dealing with a huge wildfire since mid-April. We finally got some rain late last night, and it's still raining now. It's the most beautiful sight we've seen here in a long time.
We may not be California or Florida, but our fire was just as large and just as serious (if not more so). I'm not saying that we wanted the media attention because we would have rather not had the fire nor the cameras in our faces as we dealt with our increasing losses. However, the attitude that our fire wasn't important or serious enough to warrant concern by the media really chaps my hide. A little brush fire (in comparison to this one in Georgia) sparks up in California, and the nationwide media coverage permeates the airwaves and Internet immediately, but our larger and rarer southeast Georgia fire gets a brief one-time also-mention? Our fire spreads to Florida and suddenly people want to know what's going on, but only about Florida coping with the fire?
Give me a f**king break!
Waycross and the surrounding towns have had to deal with dense acrid smoke, evacuations, highway and road closures, respiratory ailments, property loss, and the extended stress of helplessness as the fire slowly encroached as an irresistable force toward precious historical landmarks, homes, and businesses.
God bless the firefighters and the people who came together to support them. The copious contributions from people were swift and abundant. The Waycross community united in such a way that I have to say I'm proud to be a citizen of this town.
Despite the lack of media attention, those of us in southeast Georgia have been dealing with a huge wildfire since mid-April. We finally got some rain late last night, and it's still raining now. It's the most beautiful sight we've seen here in a long time.
We may not be California or Florida, but our fire was just as large and just as serious (if not more so). I'm not saying that we wanted the media attention because we would have rather not had the fire nor the cameras in our faces as we dealt with our increasing losses. However, the attitude that our fire wasn't important or serious enough to warrant concern by the media really chaps my hide. A little brush fire (in comparison to this one in Georgia) sparks up in California, and the nationwide media coverage permeates the airwaves and Internet immediately, but our larger and rarer southeast Georgia fire gets a brief one-time also-mention? Our fire spreads to Florida and suddenly people want to know what's going on, but only about Florida coping with the fire?
Give me a f**king break!
Waycross and the surrounding towns have had to deal with dense acrid smoke, evacuations, highway and road closures, respiratory ailments, property loss, and the extended stress of helplessness as the fire slowly encroached as an irresistable force toward precious historical landmarks, homes, and businesses.
God bless the firefighters and the people who came together to support them. The copious contributions from people were swift and abundant. The Waycross community united in such a way that I have to say I'm proud to be a citizen of this town.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
The Life of Lucky
In Memory of Linder Jeffereson Mundling
February 4, 1925 - May 2, 2007
With gratitude to my sister Pamela for her contribution to this tribute
Born: Sarah Mississippi
Parents: Linder Mitchell Mundling, Farmer, Blacksmith, Hunter, and Jack of Many other Trades
Alice Pierce Mundling, Stay at home Mom, Farmers wife, never seen sleeping, and although only 5 foot tall, all five of her boys addressed her as “Ma’am” and knew better than to talk back to her.
Family moved to Memphis Tennessee when daddy was in Grade School, they took their chickens with them to the big city. Daddy worked many odd jobs growing up, didn’t matter that he was just a kid.
Daddy learned at an early age how to use firearms and nothing was to go to waste. When his father sent him to go hunting for squirrel with a shotgun and three bullets, if Daddy came back with one squirrel, he’d better have two bullets left.
When Daddy was in High School, his father died. Daddy dropped out of school to work full time to support his widowed mother and kid brother. His three older brothers all had young families of their own to support.
In 1942 Daddy was drafted into the Navy and went off to Boot Camp and Gunnery School in Bainbridge Maryland. His job during that War was Lead Gunner on Merchant vessels supporting the war effort. He learned to sleep in his clothes because submarines liked to attack at night, and in the North Atlantic you wanted to be dressed warm when General Quarters was sounded.
He began to think that the arm of God was around him as he was beginning his first assignment out of New York Harbor. Him and another gunner switched assignments, so they could crew with their friends…as the ship Daddy was originally assigned to was leaving New York they were torpedoed by a German U-Boat and went down with all hands.
Later in the war, the convoy Daddy’s ship was in was attacked. The ship behind them was torpedoed, they thought they were next…then the ship ahead of them was torpedoed, they knew they were next…then the U-Boat simply left the rest of the convoy alone. None of the ships daddy was on ever suffered a torpedo hit, nor were any of them bombed by an enemy plane. Daddy took out the planes as they made their strafing runs.
After the war, Daddy was discharged and went home to Tennessee. His Mother had to sign for him to work a job out of state because he was under 21 years of age. After a few months, he realized that he missed the Navy life and re-enlisted. He did “odd jobs” in the Navy for several years before applying to become an Aircraft Mechanic. He began that career on Rotary Fixed Wing Aircraft, aka: props.
Next to a battlefield where people are shooting at you, the deck of an aircraft carrier is probably the most dangerous place on earth. Even though the ship is huge, ocean waves toss them about without much effort. Add to that a few dozen aircraft being launched or recovered and you have a recipe for disaster. Aircraft being prepared to launch is tied down with thick braided steel cable at several points until it is given permission to taxi and take flight. One day as the ship was launching aircraft a wave caused the ship to take a significant roll, a plane that was powered up broke its tie-downs and was thrown several feet. It “landed”, with its propellers turning at just under take off speed near Daddy. His back was against the wall of the ships “island” and the propeller was turning rapidly about one inch from his chest, any movement he might try to make would likely kill him. Four men ran over and moved the plane manually away from Daddy, saving him from a rather gruesome death. The next day these same four men attempted to move this same aircraft and could not budge it a single inch.
Once in a while the Navy would let Daddy have some time off. In Jacksonville Florida on 4 December 1955 he popped into an establishment on his way back to the Base for a cold refreshing adult beverage (Budweiser). A young lady from the Okefenokee Swamp was visiting her Aunt and Uncle who were stationed in Jacksonville…they were also out at the same establishment enjoying cool refreshing adult beverages (Schlitz). The young lady saw the young man walk in, was immediately smitten and wanted to meet him. Her Uncle Stan sort of knew him since he had recently checked into his squadron. Finally an introduction was made between Lynette Highsmith and “Lin” Mundling by Aunt Martha and Uncle Stan.
Ironically, Daddy had been married twice before and had gone through his second divorce; he had no intentions on getting involved in another relationship, much less married. However, on that fateful night, the two of them hit it off. They agreed to see each other again the next day.
By the third day, he asked for her hand in marriage.
Her response was, “What took you so long?”
Six weeks later this innocent sailor joined the Highsmith Clan and his life hasn’t been the same since.
Daddy was able to see potential where others couldn’t. He knew that as reliable as “props” had been that the future of aviation was in jet aircraft. He applied to switch over and everyone up his chain of command made the same statement: “Mundling, this is going to ruin your career”.
Strangely enough, this young, tenth grade drop out was right and the educated experienced leadership was mistaken. As one of the first jet mechanics in the Navy Daddy was not only on the leading edge but as he advanced was part of the edge. In the early 70’s the Navy was introducing a revolutionary new Jet Aircraft, the F-14 Tomcat. No existing squadron had the experience to fly or maintain it so they had to develop a squadron from the ground up. They knew they would need an outside the box thinker to not only head up maintenance but develop the actual maintenance program for the plane. The man chosen would have to determine in advance of working with the aircraft: the number of personnel required to maintain the plane and exactly what specialties and experience levels would be needed.
They chose the older more experienced tenth grade drop out: Aviation Maintenance man, Master Chief Linder J. Mundling. The F-14 was in service for over thirty years and the only real modifications to the squadron maintenance personnel and schedules where due to technological advances. The infrastructure set in place by this high school drop out remained throughout the life of the aircraft.
Eventually, congress decided that enlisted folks shouldn’t stay more than thirty years and threatened to begin decreasing my father’s pension if he didn’t retire. At the age of 49 with 32 years of service, having defended his country during three wars, WW-II, Korea, Vietnam, and some uneasy peace times, the Aviation Maintenance man Master Chief entered dry-dock and got to learn how to be a civilian father to his two daughters, one a teenager and the other still a human being. (I’ll let you figure out which one of us was which).
Mama and Daddy had purchased some land in Colorado for when he retired but an insight during the winter weather reports brought them to reality before the family could move … something about sub-zero temperatures and snow. They decided to move to a warmer place and ended up in Mom’s hometown of Waycross. This gave Michelle, who had spent the majority of her short life in San Diego the chance to get to know the family. They weren’t worried about the teenager since she was planning to begin her Navy adventure soon anyway.
After the family moved to Waycross 14 July 1975, Dad had been invited by some of the local men folk to participate in various turkey shoots. Little did they know how well of a crack shot Dad was. Needless to say his reputation spread quickly after winning several shoots in a row, and he wasn’t encouraged to participate so much.
Dad’s work ethic carried over into his “retirement years.” He became a self-employed road escort hired by companies needing to transfer mobile homes, boats, and other large items to various states in the country. Although he never kept a running total of how many miles he had driven, it’s been estimated to have been nearly one million miles. During this time, he purchased a Mercury Lynx (Mercury’s version of the Ford Escort) with a diesel engine. He had no idea how long the car would last. However, it managed to accrue over 750,000 miles before the engine blew, creating a hole in the engine block the size of his fist.
When Dad didn’t feel like being on the road anymore, he devoted himself to volunteer work. He had been a member of the American Legion and founded the Fleet Reserve Association local branch 236, in which he served as president for a few years. Later, he joined the Ware County Exchange Club. He enjoyed doing things like giving ice cream to children at Laura Walker park, helping out ringing the bell for the Salvation Army during the Chirstmas season, and attending Freedom Shrine dedications at various local schools. One of his biggest contributions was during the annual Fair in which the club would run their concession stand. His experience running a maintenance shop during his military career enabled him to reorganize how the concession stand operated, making it work more efficiently and therefore increase sales. During his membership, he served as president a couple of times and won the Exchangite of the Year award, not once but twice.
We always marveled how creative Dad was with tools. He could take scrap building materials and make something useable from them. When I was a child, he made me a well-built bunk bed for my dolls. I enjoyed playing with it, and I discovered our puppy Snoopy liked to sleep on the bottom bed during the night. He also made me a rocking horse using an old saw horse. It was solid wood and lasted me several years until I wore it out. As an adult, I have witnessed his ability to create nice-looking shelf units that are still functional, even after 25 years of use. The most extraordinary use of spare building materials would have to be the laundry cart he made out of nothing but pvc pipe and wheels. However, I’d have to say his masterpiece could be found in the master bedroom bathroom. I had come down for a visit and commented on Mom’s new cabinets and mirror with frame in that bathroom and asked who they hired to do the work. I was floored when she told me that Dad did all the work: the creation and installation.
Dad was never the kind to back down from a challenge. Even as his health declined, he’d find clever ways to adapt so he could still lead an active and full life. His motto was, “If I rest, I’ll rust. I feel better when I’m working.”
His biggest challenge would be cancer.
In June 1996, he was diagnosed with colon cancer. Right away, he knew he wanted to fight, so he had surgery to remove it. The surgery went so well, he didn’t need chemo treatments. After five years, he was declared cancer free.
In November 2004, he was diagnosed with cancer again, but it was a different colon cancer. Determined to fight it again, he had surgery December 2004. To the dismay of the surgeon, the cancer had spread from the colon to the liver, and the cancer in his liver was inoperable. The surgeon removed as much of the cancer as he could. There was no question in Dad’s mind what he wanted to do: he was going to fight the liver cancer. His oncologist told him that he could receive chemo treatments to buy him more time, but it would not be a cure. Dad was undaunted; he was determined to prove the doctor wrong. In many ways, he did. Dad lived two years after his fatal diagnosis, but he still had a good quality of life that he could enjoy. It enabled him to care for his ailing wife and spend time with his two daughters.
It was his will to live, his determination to get out of bed every day, and his positive outlook that enabled Dad to live as long as he did and as well as he did.
----------------------------------------------------------
This is some of the formal stuff on Daddy. Some of the personal things that made him special to us:
We always knew he loved us and was proud of us as long as we gave my best effort, even if the outcome was less than successful.
Good grades were fine, but the question was, did we learn anything?
Do what you enjoy to the best of your ability and you will be successful.
Do the best you can do in what you don’t like until you can do what you enjoy.
He’s the one that we liked teaching us how to drive because we could make the little mistakes and learn from them … and it was ok to make little mistakes.
It was ok to splurge once in a while as long as all the bills were paid.
It was good to have fun when you were doing stuff.
February 4, 1925 - May 2, 2007
With gratitude to my sister Pamela for her contribution to this tribute
Born: Sarah Mississippi
Parents: Linder Mitchell Mundling, Farmer, Blacksmith, Hunter, and Jack of Many other Trades
Alice Pierce Mundling, Stay at home Mom, Farmers wife, never seen sleeping, and although only 5 foot tall, all five of her boys addressed her as “Ma’am” and knew better than to talk back to her.
Family moved to Memphis Tennessee when daddy was in Grade School, they took their chickens with them to the big city. Daddy worked many odd jobs growing up, didn’t matter that he was just a kid.
Daddy learned at an early age how to use firearms and nothing was to go to waste. When his father sent him to go hunting for squirrel with a shotgun and three bullets, if Daddy came back with one squirrel, he’d better have two bullets left.
When Daddy was in High School, his father died. Daddy dropped out of school to work full time to support his widowed mother and kid brother. His three older brothers all had young families of their own to support.
In 1942 Daddy was drafted into the Navy and went off to Boot Camp and Gunnery School in Bainbridge Maryland. His job during that War was Lead Gunner on Merchant vessels supporting the war effort. He learned to sleep in his clothes because submarines liked to attack at night, and in the North Atlantic you wanted to be dressed warm when General Quarters was sounded.
He began to think that the arm of God was around him as he was beginning his first assignment out of New York Harbor. Him and another gunner switched assignments, so they could crew with their friends…as the ship Daddy was originally assigned to was leaving New York they were torpedoed by a German U-Boat and went down with all hands.
Later in the war, the convoy Daddy’s ship was in was attacked. The ship behind them was torpedoed, they thought they were next…then the ship ahead of them was torpedoed, they knew they were next…then the U-Boat simply left the rest of the convoy alone. None of the ships daddy was on ever suffered a torpedo hit, nor were any of them bombed by an enemy plane. Daddy took out the planes as they made their strafing runs.
After the war, Daddy was discharged and went home to Tennessee. His Mother had to sign for him to work a job out of state because he was under 21 years of age. After a few months, he realized that he missed the Navy life and re-enlisted. He did “odd jobs” in the Navy for several years before applying to become an Aircraft Mechanic. He began that career on Rotary Fixed Wing Aircraft, aka: props.
Next to a battlefield where people are shooting at you, the deck of an aircraft carrier is probably the most dangerous place on earth. Even though the ship is huge, ocean waves toss them about without much effort. Add to that a few dozen aircraft being launched or recovered and you have a recipe for disaster. Aircraft being prepared to launch is tied down with thick braided steel cable at several points until it is given permission to taxi and take flight. One day as the ship was launching aircraft a wave caused the ship to take a significant roll, a plane that was powered up broke its tie-downs and was thrown several feet. It “landed”, with its propellers turning at just under take off speed near Daddy. His back was against the wall of the ships “island” and the propeller was turning rapidly about one inch from his chest, any movement he might try to make would likely kill him. Four men ran over and moved the plane manually away from Daddy, saving him from a rather gruesome death. The next day these same four men attempted to move this same aircraft and could not budge it a single inch.
Once in a while the Navy would let Daddy have some time off. In Jacksonville Florida on 4 December 1955 he popped into an establishment on his way back to the Base for a cold refreshing adult beverage (Budweiser). A young lady from the Okefenokee Swamp was visiting her Aunt and Uncle who were stationed in Jacksonville…they were also out at the same establishment enjoying cool refreshing adult beverages (Schlitz). The young lady saw the young man walk in, was immediately smitten and wanted to meet him. Her Uncle Stan sort of knew him since he had recently checked into his squadron. Finally an introduction was made between Lynette Highsmith and “Lin” Mundling by Aunt Martha and Uncle Stan.
Ironically, Daddy had been married twice before and had gone through his second divorce; he had no intentions on getting involved in another relationship, much less married. However, on that fateful night, the two of them hit it off. They agreed to see each other again the next day.
By the third day, he asked for her hand in marriage.
Her response was, “What took you so long?”
Six weeks later this innocent sailor joined the Highsmith Clan and his life hasn’t been the same since.
Daddy was able to see potential where others couldn’t. He knew that as reliable as “props” had been that the future of aviation was in jet aircraft. He applied to switch over and everyone up his chain of command made the same statement: “Mundling, this is going to ruin your career”.
Strangely enough, this young, tenth grade drop out was right and the educated experienced leadership was mistaken. As one of the first jet mechanics in the Navy Daddy was not only on the leading edge but as he advanced was part of the edge. In the early 70’s the Navy was introducing a revolutionary new Jet Aircraft, the F-14 Tomcat. No existing squadron had the experience to fly or maintain it so they had to develop a squadron from the ground up. They knew they would need an outside the box thinker to not only head up maintenance but develop the actual maintenance program for the plane. The man chosen would have to determine in advance of working with the aircraft: the number of personnel required to maintain the plane and exactly what specialties and experience levels would be needed.
They chose the older more experienced tenth grade drop out: Aviation Maintenance man, Master Chief Linder J. Mundling. The F-14 was in service for over thirty years and the only real modifications to the squadron maintenance personnel and schedules where due to technological advances. The infrastructure set in place by this high school drop out remained throughout the life of the aircraft.
Eventually, congress decided that enlisted folks shouldn’t stay more than thirty years and threatened to begin decreasing my father’s pension if he didn’t retire. At the age of 49 with 32 years of service, having defended his country during three wars, WW-II, Korea, Vietnam, and some uneasy peace times, the Aviation Maintenance man Master Chief entered dry-dock and got to learn how to be a civilian father to his two daughters, one a teenager and the other still a human being. (I’ll let you figure out which one of us was which).
Mama and Daddy had purchased some land in Colorado for when he retired but an insight during the winter weather reports brought them to reality before the family could move … something about sub-zero temperatures and snow. They decided to move to a warmer place and ended up in Mom’s hometown of Waycross. This gave Michelle, who had spent the majority of her short life in San Diego the chance to get to know the family. They weren’t worried about the teenager since she was planning to begin her Navy adventure soon anyway.
After the family moved to Waycross 14 July 1975, Dad had been invited by some of the local men folk to participate in various turkey shoots. Little did they know how well of a crack shot Dad was. Needless to say his reputation spread quickly after winning several shoots in a row, and he wasn’t encouraged to participate so much.
Dad’s work ethic carried over into his “retirement years.” He became a self-employed road escort hired by companies needing to transfer mobile homes, boats, and other large items to various states in the country. Although he never kept a running total of how many miles he had driven, it’s been estimated to have been nearly one million miles. During this time, he purchased a Mercury Lynx (Mercury’s version of the Ford Escort) with a diesel engine. He had no idea how long the car would last. However, it managed to accrue over 750,000 miles before the engine blew, creating a hole in the engine block the size of his fist.
When Dad didn’t feel like being on the road anymore, he devoted himself to volunteer work. He had been a member of the American Legion and founded the Fleet Reserve Association local branch 236, in which he served as president for a few years. Later, he joined the Ware County Exchange Club. He enjoyed doing things like giving ice cream to children at Laura Walker park, helping out ringing the bell for the Salvation Army during the Chirstmas season, and attending Freedom Shrine dedications at various local schools. One of his biggest contributions was during the annual Fair in which the club would run their concession stand. His experience running a maintenance shop during his military career enabled him to reorganize how the concession stand operated, making it work more efficiently and therefore increase sales. During his membership, he served as president a couple of times and won the Exchangite of the Year award, not once but twice.
We always marveled how creative Dad was with tools. He could take scrap building materials and make something useable from them. When I was a child, he made me a well-built bunk bed for my dolls. I enjoyed playing with it, and I discovered our puppy Snoopy liked to sleep on the bottom bed during the night. He also made me a rocking horse using an old saw horse. It was solid wood and lasted me several years until I wore it out. As an adult, I have witnessed his ability to create nice-looking shelf units that are still functional, even after 25 years of use. The most extraordinary use of spare building materials would have to be the laundry cart he made out of nothing but pvc pipe and wheels. However, I’d have to say his masterpiece could be found in the master bedroom bathroom. I had come down for a visit and commented on Mom’s new cabinets and mirror with frame in that bathroom and asked who they hired to do the work. I was floored when she told me that Dad did all the work: the creation and installation.
Dad was never the kind to back down from a challenge. Even as his health declined, he’d find clever ways to adapt so he could still lead an active and full life. His motto was, “If I rest, I’ll rust. I feel better when I’m working.”
His biggest challenge would be cancer.
In June 1996, he was diagnosed with colon cancer. Right away, he knew he wanted to fight, so he had surgery to remove it. The surgery went so well, he didn’t need chemo treatments. After five years, he was declared cancer free.
In November 2004, he was diagnosed with cancer again, but it was a different colon cancer. Determined to fight it again, he had surgery December 2004. To the dismay of the surgeon, the cancer had spread from the colon to the liver, and the cancer in his liver was inoperable. The surgeon removed as much of the cancer as he could. There was no question in Dad’s mind what he wanted to do: he was going to fight the liver cancer. His oncologist told him that he could receive chemo treatments to buy him more time, but it would not be a cure. Dad was undaunted; he was determined to prove the doctor wrong. In many ways, he did. Dad lived two years after his fatal diagnosis, but he still had a good quality of life that he could enjoy. It enabled him to care for his ailing wife and spend time with his two daughters.
It was his will to live, his determination to get out of bed every day, and his positive outlook that enabled Dad to live as long as he did and as well as he did.
----------------------------------------------------------
This is some of the formal stuff on Daddy. Some of the personal things that made him special to us:
We always knew he loved us and was proud of us as long as we gave my best effort, even if the outcome was less than successful.
Good grades were fine, but the question was, did we learn anything?
Do what you enjoy to the best of your ability and you will be successful.
Do the best you can do in what you don’t like until you can do what you enjoy.
He’s the one that we liked teaching us how to drive because we could make the little mistakes and learn from them … and it was ok to make little mistakes.
It was ok to splurge once in a while as long as all the bills were paid.
It was good to have fun when you were doing stuff.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
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.
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.
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