Night Out - by Roxie

Night Out

Tommy called my cell phone around 4:30 pm while Randy and I were doing our P90X exercise program so I didn’t answer. After sweating I checked my phone and he had called, texted, and left a voice message so I knew he had something important to say. His message said, “Call me, we’re going to town!”

Since I didn’t know what the heck that meant, I immediately returned his message with, “What’s up?”

“We’ve rented a limo and ten of us are going into Corpus to see Bob Schneider at Brewster Street. Come with us, I have one ticket left.”

And to entice me even more he added, “We’re gonna’ dance our asses off.”

“Hmmm, who all is going?” I asked, knowing I really love to dance my ass off. This had already cinched the deal, but I was curious.

“Let’s see, Addie (I thought he said Maddie), Kate and Mark, Valerie, Jamie, Eric, Lana (my date, as it turned out), Amanda, me and hopefully, you.” he replied.

I didn’t know more than half those people but that didn’t bother me one little bit. I’ve never met a stranger anyway. So I agreed and thanked him for giving me enough time to get ready for this shindig.

I showered, washed my hair, shaved and put on new “little” clothes and generally made myself presentable. At eight Lana picked me up and we drove to Tommy’s house where the limo awaited. As it turned out the supposed ten people this particular limo was rated to hold didn’t take into account that we aren’t all Barbie and Kens so it was a tight fit and our destination was 45 minutes away. There were nine of us in it already with no room to spare and we still hadn’t picked up Amanda in Aransas Pass. Katie was uncomfortably ensconced on the floor amidst our feet with her legs crossed and assured us she had worn underwear for the occasion, something she apparently doesn’t do on a regular basis. I felt pretty good about that bit of information.

During the ride to Aransas Pass and then into Corpus much alcohol was consumed. There was wine, beer, vodka, limes, ice chests (which didn’t help the roominess much) and who knows what else. Lana had provided me with a nice glass of white wine so we were all fixed up for a night on the town. I couldn’t wait to get there; I had begun to feel somewhat like the proverbial sardine. I was beginning the process of getting to know my fellow partiers while we all laughed, giggled and enjoyed each other’s company.

Upon arrival at Brewster Street we all virtually fell out of the overstuffed limo and stretched our legs. I was ready to begin dancing my ass off. The music I heard sounded great and I was already moving to the music.

Lana and I approached the ticket table and that’s when I discovered I was Lana’s date since her husband had decided to stay home that night. Thank you, Joe, for doing that! We had to show our IDs to the gentleman behind the table and when he looked at mine he said, “That’s a good-looking picture.”

I said something about it not having any choice since I was a good-looking person and he laughed and agreed. It’s interesting how one glass of wine affects my self-confidence. Anyway, we got our armbands and filed up the stairs, people watching us grinned because we were loud, boisterous and obviously having a good time.

We all sort of split up for a while once we got into the building, some went straight to the restrooms, more went straight to the bar and ordered alcoholic beverages. I bought Lana’s drink and my first Bud 55 Select of the evening. We looked around for the other eight and didn’t see them. We discovered them at the front of the stage and it looked like we were going to have a good spot for the evening.

The front band was rocking and I began to sway to the music, oblivious to everyone around me. That’s pretty much what I do when the music suits me. I don’t give a pig’s ear if someone doesn’t like the way I dance. I do it anyway. Usually people join me and if they don’t then it’s their loss! As more and more people arrived for the main event I noticed there were quite a few young people staring at these old farts having such a good time. You’d think we had arms and legs coming out of our ears or something. I didn’t care, still don’t.

Once Bob began his gig we were really having fun. We danced, clapped, giggled and jiggled the night away. We’d break apart and then get back together. One would leave for the restroom or more alcohol and another would move into that spot. Strangers joined us and left, new strangers would arrive and we’d dance and shake hands and then, before you knew it, a new person would be beside you shakin’ what their momma gave ‘em. I think some people decided they wanted to be a part of this fun group of old-timers and would come and go like the tides. At one point some guy who wore a white shirt overstayed his welcome because he started farting and it stunk like a sulfur pit, I kid you not. Over and over again I’d have to hold my nostrils closed, it was bad, really bad. Finally everyone in our group started making gagging noises and pointing at him and he left, thank you ever so much!

I went to the restroom at one point in the evening and as I returned to our strategic position up front some random guy sitting at a table grabbed my ass. I walked a few feet away and then turned around and went back to the culprit. I asked him, “Did you just grab my ass?”

He said, “Yes, yes I did.” He was so drunk he told the truth.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to.” Still speaking truth, obviously.

“OK, you wanted to, but what makes you think that’s an alright thing to do since I don’t know you from Adam?” I queried.

He motioned to the seat beside him so he could explain to me in great detail but I declined and began walking away, still wondering why he thought it a good idea to molest me. He began to follow me and I wasn’t having any of that. I looked at him, held up my wedding ring laden left hand and he responded with, “I’m married too.”

That’s when I realized he was a douche bag. I said to him in a stern voice, “Don’t follow me, seriously!”

Thank goodness he didn’t. I was ready to practice my newly learned P90X Kenpo moves on him if he took one more step. He’s lucky he made the right decision, douche bag.

The rest of the evening was spent dancing, laughing, drinking, and listening to some great, but very loud, music, picture taking, and more dancing. At the end of the show Jamie and I got our picture taken with Bob. I wish I’d gotten Jamie’s phone number or e-mail because now I don’t know how to get a copy of it, but I haven’t given up yet. Where there’s a will there’s a way and I can be tenacious. I'll post it at the bottom here if I ever get it.

On the ride back it was much quieter than the previous one, everyone was tired, drunk (I wasn’t – only had three of those 55 Selects) and danced out. Tommy decided it was time for one of his infamous jokes.

I hope I get this right.

Two guys find themselves in the same cell in prison. The rather large man said to the smaller man, you know, you’re gonna have to put out while you’re in here with me, right?

No, no, I’m not like that, I don’t want to. It’ll hurt too much. I’ve never done anything like that before.

But you have to. I’ll tell you what. If it hurts, moo like a cow and if it feels good just sing.

Oh, alright, I guess that’ll be alright. We’re here for a long time together.

So the big guy begins the process and the little guy yells moooooooo, moooooooooooo, Mooooooooon River.

Ha!

Sunflowers - a Poem by Tamar

In the spring time she planted some sunflower seeds
They grew in the backyard among all the weeds
The grasses grew wild and the thistles grew tall
But the seeds starting growing and outgrew them all
In august the flowers would follow the sun
And pray in the evening when daylight was done
And the seeds in their petals were food for the birds
Who would thank her by tweeting their little bird words
...

In October the stems lost their strength and bowed down
And the frost in the morning turned yellow to brown
And she gathered the seeds so when spring came again
She would scatter them out to the sun and the rain
They would grow in the backyard again, feed the birds
Who would sing her their songs with their little bird words.
...

The seasons would pass as her years added on
Til one summer she sighed and her spirit was gone
So her children would gather the sunflower seeds
And there on her grave they would grow with the weeds
Til they outgrew the grasses, the thistles and all,
And they’d sway in the sunlight, so yellow and tall,
And she smiled from above at the sound of the birds
Who ate all the seeds and and sang little bird words.

Battle of the Bulge - by Roxie

All right, I’m doing it I told myself this morning. I’m losing this ten pounds of fat off my ass if it’s the last thing I do. I walked four miles yesterday and wasn’t feeling so enthusiastic about it today, but I’m determined since we’re probably going to be swimming in the Caribbean come July 4^th. Of course after my four-mile walk yesterday and counting calories all day as well, trying to keep it to 1,200 calories or less, I was ravenous come American Idol. So what did I do, you ask? Why, I ate everything I could find in the pantry. Pita chips and hummus, the last of the nuts, two granola bars and a banana. I stopped myself when I reached for the chocolate chips for baking. Well, I stopped myself after two handfuls.

Needless to say, I didn’t lose any weight yesterday, probably put on two pounds. So, I’m mad at myself today. They say to just start over, one day at a time, today’s a new day, I’ll do better today, and I’ll have the will power to slowly back away from the chocolate chips today. Right? Right? Someone please tell me I will!

I’m thinking about hiring someone to follow me around and simply slap the bad stuff out of my hands as soon as I grab it. Or shackle me to a chair and feed me only things that are good for me. I wonder if it would work. I can be quite convincing at times. I could probably talk someone into giving me the chocolate chips if I really wanted the damn things. They’d have to be very strong willed and not listen to my pleas and conviction that I deserve those blasted chocolate chips so give ‘em to me already. Maybe earplugs would work.

I did go on another four-mile walk today and actually did it in less time because I jogged some of the way. Trying to burn off the screw-up of last night’s binge. I’m hoping I won’t devour the sofa tonight. Any volunteers to keep the food away from my mouth? Anyone?

Why is it that now that I’m older it’s sooo much harder to keep the weight off? Metabolism? What? I was blessed with a skinny body for years and literally could eat anything and never gain an ounce. In fact, I tried to GAIN weight, if you can imagine that. Even drank that liquid Nutrament crap that was supposed to help you put on a few pounds. That didn’t work either. Alas, I pine for the good old days when I couldn’t gain weight no matter what I tried.

Although that's not actually my ass at the top of the page, if I don't do something soon that will be me with the industrial sized chocolate chips in hand! For today I will strive to do better and if anybody has any grand ideas that might help me – hey, I’m open to all suggestions!

The Night God Spoke - by Roxie

I can’t think of anything that has impacted me more than the words I heard that strange night so many years ago.

In the middle of the night I had an upsetting and horrible dream about alien abduction and I awoke in a panic. My legs and feet were thrashing under the covers, I had an extremely rapid pulse and labored breathing, my eyes were wide open searching the room, and tears were streaming down my cheeks. I broke into a sweat. I sat straight up in bed and was looking around for the small big-eyed creatures of my dream, the adrenaline pumping throughout my body. The fight or flight instinct was kicking in rapidly and I was looking around for a weapon, apparently choosing fight over flight. And then something happened.

I heard a very clear, normal volume, male voice that said, “Everything is as it should be.” I audibly heard it. I stopped looking around for a weapon. I sat as still as a statue. All thought left my mind. I immediately knew it was a clear message from the God I believed in. I sensed, felt, and recognized down to my very soul that what I had just heard was the essence of truth. “Everything is as it should be.” I calmed down within seconds of hearing it, for not only had I heard it, I felt it. A complete and utter calmness came over me immediately. All my fear vanished in a heartbeat.

“Everything is as it should be.” That was and still is the most profound statement I’ve ever heard. Even in the depths of a pity party I have remembered those words and they always comfort me. I remember them and realize that I will eventually get past the sadness, hurt or anger and there will be a reason for what has happened. Some of my most rewarding periods of growth have come from some heart wrenching experience. I wish I could say that I haven’t had very many of those but life inevitably has a way of throwing wrenches into your plans from time to time. But I always get past them. I always survive and live to tell those words to whoever will listen.

Sometimes I believe I was put on this earth to spread that message. “Everything is as it should be.” It always is and will always be. I’ve learned not to resist life’s lessons as much as I once did. Remembering that everything is as it should be helps me every single day of my life.

Worst Nightmare - by Roxie

My brush with sheer and utter panic and fear occurred this afternoon around 12:24 p.m. I turned on the living room television to watch my all time favorite soap opera that was in the process of recording and the screen immediately and in high definition showed a frightening scene. All thoughts of Pine Valley drama immediately vanished from my mind. I sat down on the ottoman to see what horrible tragedy had transpired in our now tenuously safe world.

The channel tuned to Randy’s favorite news show, Fox, had a ticker tape flashing across the bottom revealing the burning and smoking building was located in Texas. Okay, I thought, maybe (probably) in Houston or Dallas. Next thing I read is that a small private plane had taken off from Georgetown, Texas and crashed shortly thereafter. That’s when my heart began its staccato beating and instantaneous horror of WHERE it had crashed filled my terrorized mind.

Georgetown is just north of Austin, where several people I love live and work. My son, Brandon, is one of them and resides in Round Rock, which is between Georgetown and Austin, and my instantaneous alarm focused on him. I kept my eyes glued to the screen, frantically searched for the location of the burning high-rise and wondered why they hadn't revealed “where in the hell IS that building?!!!” I was terrified. Tears blurred my vision and I had to find out where it was and where my son was.

Finally, the beautiful blonde woman announced it was the Echelon Building III. I vaguely remembered that name because I had a brush with the IRS in that same building many years ago. My trusty laptop and I immediately went to work figuring out its location, but already my panic had subsided because if it was the building I believed it to be, my son was nowhere near it.

God will forgive me for breathing a sigh of relief when I discovered the address on-line because I know some people must have died in what the screen revealed as a black-smoke-filled inferno. I said a prayer for those unknown people whose loved ones passed on because their horror-filled day had just begun. My story could be quite different and I am sufficiently frightened of the terrors of this world we now live in to know that.

I watched the scene unfold as policemen and firemen did their jobs and the talking heads on Fox and authorities in Austin reassured us it wasn’t a terrorist attack. They explained bit-by-bit the events that lead to this tragedy. After a few minutes I broke down and had myself a good cry.

God help us all if a world exists where I can turn on the television and imagine my worst nightmare happens so easily. We are in deep doo-doo, people.

OLYMPIC (mis)ADVENTURE - Tamar

Go Canada Go!

.

The Olympics are finally here, and last Saturday we left, not bright and early, but cloudy and early, to find some Olympic excitement in Vancouver.

.

Despite warnings by VANOC of hour-long line-ups for buses and sky trains, we enjoyed a sit-down ride on a nearly empty Canada Line to downtown Vancouver. It was nice to see the streets turned into sidewalks filled with lots of people - here there were definitely signs of something wonderful happening. I think everyone had the same purpose as we did, so we just followed the sea of red jackets past the Vancouver Convention Centre to the Olympic Flame. Everyone was as disappointed as we were to discover the Flame was burning brightly behind a six foot Olympic security fence, with one 3-foot wide space cut down enough so people could get a look-see.

The official reasoning is because the Flame is in the vicinity of the Conference Centre, which has become a tightly-secured Media Centre. I just believe they are afraid someone will go poof the fire out.

The next item on our agenda was to head for the Irish House, which is supposed to be the biggest party place in Vancouver. It already had made the headlines for all the noise it was producing, keeping residents awake all night long. So we headed up Granville Street, which was full of displays celebrating the Chinese New Year Festival, for a damp 25-minute walk.

Irish House is a humongous white tented structure, which was sprouting a line-up at 11am, so we joined the end around the corner. After waiting for about five minutes, we heard someone ahead explain, "There's a ten dollar cover charge, and you get a free drink ticket..."

Well, we certainly didn't mind the ten dollar charge, if we had known about it already. But since we went travelling with a debit card, a MasterCard, and about $25 in cash, and Olympic venues only accept Visa or cash, and we didn't want to spend all our cash money just to enter and not be able to buy anything to eat, we slipped out of line. Needless to say, neither of us were very happy, but since I had had nothing to eat all day, not even breakfast, I wasn't willing to spend eatin' money on two alcoholic drinks for my husband.

The day wasn't going real well up to this point - if daddy's not happy, nobody's happy - so we decided to head back to Richmond. As in,

"Well, what do you want to do now?"

"I don't care."

"F..k it, let's just go back home."

So, another non-crowded ride back to Richmond, where we dined on A&W at the Richmond Centre, then took a raindrop walk to the Ozone for a visit to the Heineken House at Minoru - after a stop at the bank to withdraw some cash (just in case.)

Joining the lineup to enter the Ozone, which is Richmond's Olympic Party Headquarters, we realized that big umbrellas, like the one Howard was using to keep dry, are banned from the premises, along with backpacks and weapons.

Needless to say, it was a silent bus ride home.

So our first Olympic adventure was but a learning experience. Next Saturday we're going to try again. Wish us luck.

I Don't Smell Anything, Do You?

This past week, we noticed a faint odor emanating from somewhere unknown near our back door. It wasn't the dogs, as Howard assumed, and it wasn't Charlie the rat. Days passed and the faint odor became a bit more rancid, and still we had no idea what it was - until my husband discovered the plug to the freezer had become separated from the wall. The proof of that particular pudding hit me in the face when I walked in after a hard day's work.

"Ok then," I said. "Let's haul this outdoors and bag all the stuff so we can get rid of it." (Thank heavens there wasn't a lot of food involved.)

"No," he said. "I just plugged it back in. The stuff will freeze, the smell will disappear, and we can just put it out with the garbage on Wednesday."

Well, that sounded like a great idea, from a clever shipwright who is full of great ideas. However, the smell didn't quite disappear, although it did settle down a tad. Just keep the lid on til Wednesday.

Garbage day came, not soon enough. Howard was smart enough to skedaddle off to work without doing the garbage thingie, so it was up to me to tackle the job. I hauled in a huge breath, and grabbed a plastic baggie that used to have un-decomposing meat in it.

Oh oh. The top of the baggie came off in my hands, leaving its contents, along with the rest of our yummies, frozen solid to the bottom of the freezer. I thought maybe I would need a jackhammer to loosen this mess. Down goes the lid again, and I run outdoors to get a good intake of cool fresh air, thanking the gods that I had to go to work in a little while.

So this morning, I dragged the smelly offender outdoors to await another thaw, at least a partial thaw, that would allow me to double-triple-quadruple garbage bag the remains.

Life is good.

By the way, if you know anyone who wants to buy a freezer, let me know. It's going cheap.

The Dandelion - by Tamar

I'm glad they never told me

When I was just a seed

That I'd be growing up to be a weed

-----

For if I'd known my future

I might have hid my face

And now I wouldn't be here in this place

-----

A little bit of summer

And it's not even Spring

I'm glad of all the smiles and hopes I bring

Pre-Olympic Wanderings - by Tamar

Everything is coming up red and white. Richmond, as well as Vancouver, is starting to bloom with the Canada colours, getting ready for the Olympics. Yesterday I saw some creative person had the Olympic rings made out of Christmas lights on his front lawn. That was pretty cool, much cooler than the few souls who are still displaying full Christmas get-up(do they not realize it’s almost the end of January?)

On Saturday we decided to walk around Richmond and see what pre-Olympic stuff was going on, plus take a look at, as well as pictures of, the strange looking sculptures that are presently implanted in our beautiful city – Vancouver doesn’t have the dibs on odd, it seems.

Howard wasn’t very pleased when I gave him shit for parking in the mall parking lot while we walked – I could imagine coming back to an empty parking stall as our car was conveniently parked under a sign that warned us if we left the lot, our car would be towed. Then before we actually walked off the lot, I happened to ask him if he had the camera, which he hadn’t. Needless to say, neither did I.

No one spoke a word as we drove back to the house for the camera. The air was pretty staticky though. One wrong word and the car would have exploded.

This time he didn’t drive to the mall, but headed out in search of a place we could park with no threat of being impounded. Ha. I don’t know where the people in charge of the Olympics found them, but everywhere we looked had No Parking signs planted. We drove by some spectacular looking objets d’art – a huge head of Lenin with a crossbar-carrying dancer on his head – no, I’m not kidding – and a gigantic Inukshuk made of these huge boxes they use to transport goods. How impressive can you get.
The Olympic Oval was screened in with double fences and security guards, but I did manage to get a shot of the weird red thingies that hang in front of the building. The Oval is a gorgeous building. The weird red thingies look like oversized sieves. Words cannot express.

I’m looking forward to the Olympics, to the thousands of people milling around (and hopefully spending money at our store), to the Ozone, which is a 24 hour Party Zone sponsored by the Netherlands and is a couple of miles away from where we live. I’m hoping to meet lots of people, discover new things, and hopefully have fun – you’ll be sure to hear about it!

So if you get a chance to watch some TV coverage of the Olympics (besides the competitions, who the heck can afford to go to the events?) keep an eye out for me. I’ll be wearing a camera, carrying a notebook, and hopefully not bumping into flagpoles. I’ll wave!

Roxie-Annie Oakley by Roxie

The year was 1992 or ’93. I had made a run to the ranch with Rocky in tow. He was my companion, my guardian and protector. It was summertime and the kids were visiting their father in Arkansas so I was pretty independent at the time. I don’t recall where Randy was but on this particular outing Rocky and I were alone.

The ranch’s immediate neighbor to the east was The Perdanales Falls State Park and we would often get trespassers hiking along the river even though we had ‘no trespassing’ signs posted at the border and had even managed to put up a large STOP sign so there would be no confusion as to the intent of the owners. Apparently some people either didn’t see the sign or were blatantly ignoring all warnings about hiking up the river and onto our property because on this particular day Rocky and I had visitors.

We were lazing around down by the screened porch taking in the sun’s rays and dipping in the river occasionally to cool off. It was a magnificent day and Rocky and I were having a wonderful time. I had brought along the 357 Magnum just in case I needed it. It was my weapon of choice at the time because it’s big, accurate and I know how to use it. Being on 1,200 acres all by yourself can be scary and I didn’t want to be caught unaware and vulnerable. Between Rocky and the pistol I figured I had it under control.

By and by I heard voices coming our way and knew that several people were walking up the river and destroying my peace and quiet. I didn’t take too kindly to it. I was enjoying my solitude and the sounds of nature all around me. The river’s gentle lapping and birds singing soothed me. The last thing I wanted to hear was human voices.

As the intruders approached I strapped the 357 in its holster over my bikini and stood up. I could see them by then. Rocky’s hackles were up and so were mine. As the three men approached I felt somewhat apprehensive but pretty secure in my ability to get at least two of them before they even knew what happened. Rocky was growling and I had to put him on his leash to keep him by my side. That’s about the time they saw me. They stopped dead in their tracks and stared at me for a moment. I must have looked fierce with a gun on my hip and a snarling dog tugging at his leash by my side. All I had to say was, “Do you realize you’re trespassing on private property?” for them to change their direction.

They took one look at us and decided it was time to head back the way they had come. One of them quickly said, “No, I’m sorry. We’ll head back now. Please don’t shoot us.”

I said, “I won’t if you hurry along and I won’t let this dog go for about 15 minutes so you’d best be on your way. Please don’t ever trespass on our property again and tell your friends there’s a crazy lady and her dog patrolling up this way.”

They immediately turned around and quickly hiked back the way they had come. I was relieved. But the incident destroyed my tranquility so we packed up and headed back to Austin.

I made a point from then on to always have a pistol and dog with me when I ventured to the ranch alone. It’s a good feeling to know you can protect yourself if the need arises.

My only regret is I don’t have a picture of what I must have looked like with a rather large holstered pistol strapped over my bikini bottom and a wild and crazy dog by my side.

2010 by Roxie

2010

How can that be? I mean, I was just asking how it could be 2009 and it’s already a year later. What happened last year? Did I really blithely go through an entire year unaware that time was passing, living my mundane little life, paying bills, doing chores, shopping and writing and going to classes and cooking and walking the dog and loving my family and friends and simply living my life? I guess that’s what I did because now it’s 2010 and I seem to have made it through another year virtually unscathed. Except for these new grey hairs, I like to call them Abe … or Randy. Ha-ha

By the way, what is the shortened version of 2010? Oh-nine worked for 2009. Do we just say ten? That doesn’t sound quite right. Twenty-ten? That’s better I guess but seems to be not very short. Shish, I really can’t believe it’s 2010.

Resolutions? I resolve to write more, complain less, eat less, exercise more, have more fun and clean house less, uh, that’s it, more or less. Hehe

What are yours? Resolutions, that is. Some people, like Tamar, resolve not to have resolutions and that’s ok. Whatever works for you is what works for me.

I’d like to travel more in 2010. I love to travel. 2010 brings Randy and I to our 20^th anniversary in December. That’s a milestone. I’d like to go somewhere tropical at that time of year, but we’ll see how it goes.

Do you have any big plans for 2010? I plan on voting a bunch of assholes out of Washington if I can. But other than that I really don’t have anything major going on.

Anyway, just wondering if there’s anybody else out there that simply can’t believe it’s 2010! I sure don’t see how it’s possible. But it is what it is and we can’t go back, just forward.

So let’s enjoy 2010 and live it to it’s fullest and wring every drop of fun and love out of it that we can.

I wish each and every one the best year ever. I’m really kind of glad that 2009 is over and done. I have a whole new calendar full of blank pages to fill with happy moments and good times. Let’s get started!