12 of 12 Two Days Away

November 10, 2008. Would have been my mom's 80th Birthday.

Will go to Sizzler as we have every year for the past 14 to celebrate (ten with her, these last four with her spirit.)

Will ponder what might have been; had she not gotten so tired so quickly and too soon.

Will carry my head high and move forward. I made it through the first two phases, in a long process. Will update all later.

Remember, 12 of 12 is two days away. If you haven't seen 12 of 12, it is the WONDERFUL idea of Chad Darnell. 12 photos of your day on the 12th of each month.

A work day. Commuting. (The crowd protests the very idea). The critters will run for cover. The birds take refuge in the brush, hoping the flash will not work. But I will get those photos.

And, tomorrow, Thank a Vet for their service.

Ode to Simple Green

This stuff is a miracle cleaner. I don't know why anyone would use anything else. Really should have taken before and after photos.

It is August. That means Luke and his pasture mates are covered in dirt and a sticky substance that is derived from a pesky weed. Common name: Tar Weed.

In years past, I have scrubbed and scrubbed until both my hands and his legs were raw. Then last year, I thought. "I'll try some Simple Green." And I did. Cleaned him up in a flash. Dilute in his bath water and use a regular soft brush on his legs and mussel and he is as clean as any show pony should be.

LOVE simple things like SIMPLE GREEN.

Commerical I want to see

Have you seen the NASCAR commercials with Dale Jarrett, (he drove last year for the UPS sponsored car) ? They did an entire series of him saying, "When do I get to race the truck?" talking about the big UPS Brown trucks.

Well, now that Big Brown has completed two of the three segments of the Triple Crown, I want a commercial with a UPS driver, or other celebrity, saying, "I want to race the horse."

Could go in many directions, like a foot race, a horse vs. car race, one of them riding Big Brown or perhaps Big Brown racing the Big Truck.

Just remember, you read it here first!!!!!

Another Commuting Pet Peeve

Well, apparently I have more than I thought I did. Or, maybe, just maybe, now that I think about them, I notice them. Who knows? Not even the Shadow, but I digress.

PEOPLE WHO CAN NOT MERGE ONTO THE FREEWAY.

This is not a new phenomenon; at least for the section of Interstate 80 through the lovely college town of Davis, CA. I can remember travelling from our home in Sacramento to San Francisco to visit relatives and EVERY time we would get over the causeway, just entering the Davis community, my father would begin his mumblin' curses under his breath. AND he wasn't even driving. "Don't these people in this @#%%$ town know how to merge? Wonder where they learned to drive. Must have gotten their drivers' license from a Cracker Jack sticker." and so forth. These events occurred over 40 years ago.

Spring forward to today. I am driving The Red January (related to the submarine Red October), the 1983 Toyota PU with 321,000 miles. The Hybrid is in the shop for its 100,000 mile check-up. I am cruising at 60 in the slow lane. The lanes next to me are cruising at 65 and 70. I approach an interchange. Three cars gearing up for the merge. AT LESS THAN 40 MPH. I remain steady, trying to move to the left. No room. I continue, but slow a bit. All three cars enter the freeway at 40mph. AND STAY THERE. It took them nearly a mile to get up to speed. Now, for all of you thinking maybe its an old ramp with little room to get up to speed; kibosh that idea. There was plenty of room to let me continue, but no they had to move right over in front of me. I finally am able to move over and continue on my way. Another 1/2 mile down the road and I return to the slow lane. And proceed at 60 mph. Another 1/2 mile down the road, one of my three "friends" run right up on my bumper and flash their lights signaling for me to move over a lane. THERE IS NO LANE TO MOVE TO!!!!!!!!!!! I am as far to the right as possible. What if I was in the Monster Truck towing Luke and only going 55mph.

UgH. I am beginning to think we need to put the radio back in Toyota.

Another Commuting Pet Peeves

Friday afternoon traffic. Everyone swishing to get to where they think they need to be. The traffic flow is exceeding the speed limit by at least 10 mph.

Then, up ahead. bam. Red tail lights. Boom. Boom. Boom. Everyone slows to 40. 30.20 Why?

A Highway Patrol Officer (or other law enforcement person) is sitting on the side of the road. Alone. In his (or her) car. Not moving. Maybe finishing a ticket or writing one for the car that is a bit farther up, but WHY do people go from Speed Racer to the Slowski's in less than ten yards?

I am not talking about those drivers in the slow lane who are slowing down to give the Officer room and are being conscientious about people being on the freeway. I am talking about the people who just passed me like I was a billboard on the side of the road (standing still) and now they are slamming on the brakes.

I think if my friends at the Highway Patrol wanted to slow CA drivers down, all they have to do is put an Officer on the side of the road every mile or so. Would probably save the department fuel costs.

Commuting Pet Peeves

I don't have many. But one I do have involves those wonderful signs on the side of the freeways. And it isn't actually the signs, or even the information disseminated from them. I understand the need for them; and how they help save lives. No, my issue is with

THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE TO SLOW TO 20 MPH TO READ THEM.

I am driving home this evening, Eastbound on Interstate 80. Traffic is a bit heavy for it being a vacation week, but everyone is moving the speed limit from Vacaville to Dixon. Suddenly, traffic slows to 30 mph. No apparent reason. Then it occurs to me. There was an AMBER ALERT earlier today. I will bet the sign is on with a message. Sure enough. As soon as cars pass the sign, traffic moves back at the speed of light (or at least the speed limit).

On I go. Not thinking about my recent frustration with people who can't read at 65mph, I continue on Interstate 80 Eastbound. (I have an alternate route that I can take when traffic is heavy). We move swiftly through Davis and head for the causeway. STOP. Ugh. Was there an accident? What?!

15mph for three miles. The obstruction? You guessed it. Another sign. WITH THE SAME INFORMATION. What? Didn't YOU people just read this information not more than 10 minutes ago? And yes, as soon as a car passes the sign, it is 70 mph.

No wonder cars don't get good gas mileage. Going from 65 to 15 and back to 70 can't be good for consistency purposes.

UGH.

Life is short

I am still struggling with the "Life being Fair" concept. But for some of us, Life is also too short. This is a bad time of the year for me, for a variety of reasons.

Five years ago, tomorrow, my mother died and my sister continued her spiral to the depths of nowhere, but at exponential speed; while my brother's star began to rise even higher than ever.

One year ago today, our dear neighbor died. I take Luke to her place every weekend to exercise him and get him into shape for this show year. She has a great riding arena. I shed a tear each time I look around and realize that although I can "feel" her helping me, she isn't truly there to enjoy Luke and I, like she had two years ago. I have my sites set on two or three big shows this season. And several smaller, schooling shows.

And then, Wednesday of this week, another neighbor lost a 14-year-old due to a horse accident.
They aren't sure exactly what happened and I haven't been to the neighbor's yet; but I am sure they are still in shock.

So, doesn't matter if you live to be 74; 64 or 14.

Life is short. Being daring, yet careful. (oops, here come the cliches) Live it like there is no tomorrow.

SUPER FAT TUESDAY

Today is Super Tuesday in the political world. (Yes, I voted. First one in line. Got to certify that the ballot box was empty and working ok.)

It is also Fat Tuesday in the Catholic world. Mardi Gras to the rest of the world.

I am preparing for 40 days of Lent. Never really been very good at picking a vice (I don't have many, wink, wink, nod, nod) to do without in years past. But this year will be different. It started out different for a variety of reasons and continues on the path to sanity.

What habit do I want to change? What habit do I want to begin that will continue to enhance my existence? Well, I have a few more hours to decide. Until then, bring on the fast food, the Dr. Pepper, Pizza and sweeties peppermint candy.

Baggy pants and Hip-Huggers

Ok. So, I am old. Officially a 49er, you know. And a fashion guru NOT.

But I do know baggy pants have been a fashion, status, whatever statement for many years. And believe me, I am in to comfort. In fact, the pair of pants I have on tend to slide down with the best of them. Especially if I have my phone, wallet and keys in the pockets.

But what I don't get is this: Why bother wearing pants? I was at the DMV when four young men, all about 20-25ish, arrived. All were wearing varying degrees of baggy pants. One in particular had Tartan-red-plaid boxers on. The boxers went below his knees. His pant's belt loops were around his knees. He walked like Howard the Duck. Not Daffy or Donald, but HOWARD. And, quite frankly, his boxers were better looking than his jeans. So, I repeat, "Why bother?"

The other trend I just can't comprehend is hip-hugger jeans. Actually, I understand hip-hugger jeans; I guess it’s the young ladies who wear them that I am having difficulty relating to.

Here's the deal: Why wear hip-hugger pants, if all you are going to do is pull them up? Same afternoon. Same DMV. Young woman comes in with a mid-rift shirt and hip-hugger jeans. Lord, she had the body to wear 'em (that is another story). She was in front of me in line and the entire time, while the aforementioned gentleman was letting his pants go lower and lower, she was standing there pulling her top down and her pants up. Seems like an awful lot of work for nothing. And, don't even get me started on wearing hip-hugger jeans with thong underwear showing. Again I ask, "Why bother wearing underwear?"

No wonder there is a childhood Obesity Problem

in the US.

"THEY", (it is always a they, there never is a real person to maim, or ridicule or call to task) have done it.

This sign was posted in a local Sacramento County park.


I can understand not running on a pool deck. I even understand the no rough play. But come on, NO RUNNING at a park. No wonder parents find the easy way to raising their children is through video games.

I really want to be a grown-up, not babysat by my bureaucratic friends who have nothing better to do with my money than make up silly, non-competitive signs and games.

UGHHHHHH

Shhhhhhshhhhshshsh!!!

Don't tell anyone, but computer manufacturers have made setting up a new system damn near idiot-proof. Everything is color coded and if you take the time to READ, any fifth-grader, ah hell, first grader, can set-up a new computer.

However, they haven't made the process completely boss-proof yet. Thank goodness. There is partial job security in this knowledge. I look like a genius and all I did was read.

Amazing.

"Shocked, Just Shocked, I am"

To paraphrase and steal the quote from Casablanca.

What are the "leaders" of Sacramento thinking? (oops, that sentence in and of its self is an oxymoron. leaders and thinking. Never happens).

Here's the link to the Sacramento Bee Article. I don't know what planet our fine mayor has been living on, but it certainly has been the one that includes the Natomas basin. Every fifth grader in the greater Sacramento area knows that if you are surrounded by rivers, the area inbetween the two rivers is flood prone.

Sacramento will ALWAYS be waiting for the "big" Flood to come and no matter what protection they make, IT WILL COME!!!!!!

The key is to be prepared. I am.

Choices

We all make them. Some are made for us. Some are exasperated by our surroundings.

Without realizing it, I, apparently, chose not to blog for four months. It wasn't intentional, just made an entry on September 6th and then never wrote again.

Thought about it. Even wrote several master pieces, all tucked away in the vast grey matter, known as my brain. Once again, I chose not to pontificate so it would be remembered. Ah, well.
Choices. Someone once told me that at any given point in time, we are all exactly were we chose to be. We could chose to be elsewhere, and we would be. But, what happens if I chose to be someone else? What if I am tired of being me? I am not, not really. I am just tired of making the choices that make me be so silly.

I mean, after all, I celebrating this year as a true 49er. I am supposed to be a grown up. Why can't I act like one? I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. What could be better?

However, I have chosen not to get back on either the proverbial or actual horse. I have chosen not to do this and have chosen to do that instead. Why is the easiest choice usually the wrong one. Water always gets to travel the road of least resistance, why can't I?

Oh My. I might succeed. And heaven and hell should forbid that from happening.

Trust me.