A Small Error

I'm an avid follower of Glenn Beck and all his prophecies of doom and gloom and he made a point today that I would like to expand on.
He mentioned that some cities have cut out funding for their police due to budget cuts. It has gotten so bad, that they will no longer "waste" their time by coming to the scenes of a theft or break-in that has been reported.
So... what?
If you find your home is broken into and you call the police...
No one will come?
That is absurd!!! Of all the things you cut, you cut the funding for you police systems!? What are you thinking, my stupid country!?
That is something you are allowed to cut, by all means, as a last resort.
But not when your mayors and idiotic government party planners are racking in ten times the average salary.
When shit hits the fan, everyone will hurt and no matter how big your nest egg, you greedy bastards, shit will hit your fan and it will hit hard.
Let's expand more on that scenario I drew up.
Your house is broken into.
The police are not coming.
And you have no idea whether the burglar is in your house or if it is safe at all.
That's when the big, fat government slaps your other cheek.
You can't own a gun and can't protect yourself even when no one else will protect you.
Your own government bans your weaponry, making you absolutely dependent upon them.
And then they pull back the protection they offered you.
That is a horrible thing.
That is a stupid thing.
I am not excited about this country's future and I have a long way to go within its borders.

My battle with feminism.

A couple nights ago was another one of those turning point moments that I love sharing with all. It started as a typical night, as most nights do. I was chatting with my man before bedtime, but I was falling asleep as the day took it's toll on me. So I said good night and hung up.
I then made a last trip to the bathroom to abate the call of all creatures.
But relief didn't come that night.
(I know Kimmy is flinching right now, she might not get past this point.)
As I turned on the light and stepped into the room, my body lurched backward as my eyes caught a spider in the sink.
I promise it wasn't your ordinary house dwelling, fly eating spider.
This spider had chest hair.
This spider growled.
This fucker would take the newspaper you tried to kill it with and throw it back at you.
I can't describe it. Here's a picture.

(I put a smaller picture so that those of weaker constitution can continue to the deeper themes I have in store for this article.) This, my friends is a female giant house spider. Yes, that's their name; giant house spider. Aptly named, I might add. They are often confused with hobo spiders which yes, are poisonous, but GHSs are horrifying in their own rights. Unlike their hobo cousins, these puppies can climb and actually get much bigger. So when you have a GHS infestation, literately nowhere is safe.
Anyway, back to my story.
I see this beast in my sink and the first thoughts I have are, "Oh God, oh God, oh God!" Without a second thought, I run into my room to grab something to kill it with. I take hold of my favorite flip in a set of flip flops and re-enter the chamber of the monster.
A horrible thought occurs. This spider is literately TOO BIG to be killed by my flop.
"Oh God..."
So I try again. This time I get the left shoe I wear to work. It's got much more substance (and is slip-free, I might add) and I feel much more safe behind this sole.
I inch nearer to the sink and peer into the basin. I see it trying to climb the walls and I realize, it's trapped.
It can't scale the slipper slope of my sink.
This thing can whistle, it can hunt eagles, but it can't climb out of the bathroom sink.
I've never had anything more cornered. I've never been in such a prime position to kill, besides ants that hang out where I walk. Stupid ants.
I stand there, staring at this creature of the night.
"You can do it. You're 50 times bigger than this thing. It's more scared of you than you are of it."
None of the usual methods of encouragement were working. I was paralyzed. I could hear the thing taunting me.
"You're too scared, you can't do it."
So I lean over the sink and pull up the nobby thing that plugs up the drain. If I couldn't squish it, I was going to drown it.
I was so close! I leaned over that thing in my sink and pulled up the nobby thing and what does the bastard do? Flip out, and run around the bottom of the sink! So fast, I could barely keep my eyes on it. I leapt back like I haven't leapt since high school track.
I couldn't bring myself to lean over one more time to turn on the actual sink.
What was wrong with me?
I continued to ask myself this over, and over again.
Finally I said, "I'm just not being creative enough."
I went to the laundry room, where I grabbed a duster. I stuck the head of the duster into my shoe and tried to use it as a shoe killer, from a distance.
That idea was quickly discarded. I would not have been able to provide the right pressure in the right spots on the shoe to kill the monster in one fell move.
And so I thought, "What else is large and relatively flat on one end and is so long I don't have to come within two feet of the victim?"
Why I thought this, I don't know. Adrenaline does some crazy things to people. Anyway, I immediately thought, "Plunger!"...
Well, I find out that my step dad got us a new plunger that has a weird bottom that would not allow me to crush the GHS. Also, when I was examining the end in question, another spider popped out from the plunger. I'm trying really hard to kill one spider, two is simply asking too much of me in one night. The tool was promptly thrown to the other side of the garage in which it is housed.
I was mentally trapped!
The shoe seemed to remain my best bet, so round two commenced.
Although this spider was probably as aware of me as an athiest is of divine intervention, I was sweating bullets over it's presence.
My thoughts shifted to my boy and his wasp killing abilities and his knack for squelching out the lives of insignificant and creepy beings. I thought, "If only my Will was here to kill this thing. If only I had him here to help me."
And then something came over me.
I pushed my shoulders back and picked my chin up and said to myself, "Will will not always be near to help me, just as he isn't now. If I can't help myself, I'll become weak and one of those girls I make fun of. If I want to face the world and be proud of my self, I should be able to kill my own bugs. Nobody should lean on another for that much security.
Especially I who was once strong and could hold a slug and eat dirt!
I once dug feet to hold teh tongue of a gooey duck.
I once had holes in the knees of every pair of tights I owned because
I was fearless!"
I look at this spider with new eyes.
I am a strong and independent woman. I need no man to rescue me from any perilous task. I am (in)Diana Jones! I can engage a spider ten times this size in a battle of swords or wits!
I stare a second longer at this beast who held me in fear for hours and I jumped once more.
Not for any reason belonging to the GHS.
I actually heard someone walking about in the house.
Trying to look into the dark hallway, I see my mom come out. She asks me what the hell I'm doing and I tell her of the spider.
She takes on look, doesn't think twice and says, "Oh yeah, wake Craig up. He'll take care of it."
Interesting, right?
Has she completely given up on that part of a woman that might open a pickle jar or squish a spider? I believe so because there was no doubt in her mind that she and I had no choice but to hire her husband in this mercenary act.
But I was tired, and I knew that my fearless side would have another chance to prove itself, so I woke up my stepdad.
He got up, went to the garage and grabbed his fly swatter.
He whacked the life out of the now sad and fragile creature and dropped it's curled body into the toilet.
And then he went back to bed.
I spent an hour, mentally grappling with this eight legged dog.
He spent one minute awake.
How does a man stifle any act of recoil? How do they appear fearless?
Are they actually terrified, but pressured into seeming brave? Are they actually just born brave?
I have yet to come across another one of these spiders and not scream or flee in the passed few days. (I've had far too many opportunities these days.)
I'm sure that someday I'll be able to call forth the champion in me and prove my worth.
But for now, I'm checking every corner before using the bathroom and shaking out my bed before crawling in.
For now, I will hide behind the backs of my men to protect me from the harmless but terrifying.
For now, I will be a little girl.

Dave Thomas

My hero.

Dave Thomas was trained by his grandma as a child and is currently hiding in South America. If I could pay all the money in the world for an accordion teacher, it would be for this man...

Or his grandma.

It's so beautiful.

I wish my music was as gorgeous as this. It makes my heart hurt.

Note to self: Get better at accordion.

It'll be my Plan B for earning cash without working, also I'll be able to jam with my parents which seems like it's so much fun.

I love all of you.

And because of my love for you, I'm sharing this last song with you. It has made me cry.

Sailing

I haven't been sailing in a while. Because now I work. Okay okay, you can all stop feeling bad for me. Pity party is over.

But really, I miss it.

Don't tell me it isn't awesome, because I know it is.

Anyway, attempts to get the boat to myself are failing. SO, we have a new plan! All of these hours I'm wasting NOT sailing and instead working, will be for the sole purpose of owning my own boat to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.

There are some b-e-a-uuutiful boats out there my friends, and the places I can go on the water! Ugh! Sailing is my heart and soul. I feel so alive and connected to everything.

When breaking waves and all you can hear is the wind and the water, you feeling like you're flying.

I miss, and love, sailing. A lot.

If I could, (which I will be able to hopefully within the next couple years) I would take all of my friends out on the water to experience what I do.

P.S. I miss school.

P.P.S. I'm in the red life vest. Check out my rockin' Beatles hair.

The "weekend"

I was at my dad's for a couple days and I had long periods of isolation in which to think. For long moments, I was very pessimistic marveling at the fact that we are born basically alone and we basically die alone and that every man actually is an island and we will never find that someone who truly bridges us to another person. It was incredibly sad to think about. The thought of dying and being mourned for a period of time and then forgotten and the sorrow that followed in my own heart was... disheartening.

And then Platy woke up from her nap and begged me to take her for a walk. Letting her grab onto my two pointer fingers, she uses me for support while she strolls around the house.

We ventured outside.

At the front of our house (although we treat it like the back) there are long and treacherous stairs that take you from the front door to the driveway. They're creaky, tall, and generally foreboding particularly at night or in the rain.

Platy must have been feeling brave because we saunter right up to the tippy top and the edgy edge of those stairs and she swings her foot out, over the edge. Then she swings again and drops her toe just a little bit down. She bends her other knee and I can feel her tiny paws grip harder on my fingers.

Both of us are nervous. Both of us are nervous about the same thing.

Even though my hands are getting a little sweaty, I double my grip and I say, "Don't worry Platy, I've got you. I won't let go."

And she does it! She finally touched the next step with her toe and with a bravehearted effort, she drops her other foot.

Platy literately squealed with excitement. She looks up at me with ginormous eyes that could suck up the whole world and spit it out a shiny blue. The next step she takes has much more courage behind it although her grip has not loosened from my fingers. Even if it had, mine would be all the more tighter.

Two steps down, things change.

The stairs are just planks of wood and you can see all the way down to the bottom. Poor Platy sees how high up she is and gets terrified. It's too much for her. Even her last two triumphs are not enough to let her go the rest of the way. She is absolutely paralyzed with fear and nothing can move her.

I can feel her tremble and can sense how utterly helpless she feels before this giant void that is just waiting to devour her.

At this moment, she must feel so alone, so small in such a large world where there is nobody to help her and hold her. There is just teeny tiny her and a great big scary world.

So I pick her up and hold her close and we walk back to the house. She wouldn't let me put her down for a while and I wouldn't have. I was going to be there for her as long as she needed me and even longer.

Even though she felt like it, she was never alone. I was there holding her hand and will always be there for her. Which means nobody is ever really alone.

Hey all!

Hey all you one people who read this so far! (Hi Kimmy) I'm off to my dad's house for a couple days which means all electronic outlets will be moot. But take a look at the wee one I'll be with!

That's my little sister Scarlet. She'll be a year old this weekend.

Hurray for life!

New beginnings

So my old blog, of the same title (change, although welcome, is hard) became something of a burden. Childish and obscure. Maybe something of it will become treasures when I find them in hard copy, and then they will be brought to life, but for now, let's turn our eyes to progress.

In this theme, I want to talk about a hero of mine.

Jason Alexander.

He was the angsty, short, and bald character of George Costanza in Seinfeld, but that's all behind him. Check it out.

In his glory days, he rocked Broadway, and when the hairline receded, he kept going; charging right through his career on Seinfeld. Then he gained even more weight (I'm sure the Seinfeld production fed him well) and sort of disappeared but just look at him! He looks awesome and will always be an amazing person. Now he is giving fake inspirational speeches, unfortunately probably the closest he will get to stand-up comedy. It's called The Donny Clay Experience. He dons a toupee and a new character and give, well, purposefully terrible speeches. I personally can't wait to see him.

Look at that mug.

Him and I, although he will never acknowledge me existence, are so similar right now. With his fresh attitude and my new blog, we're a wonderful pair... maybe.

Anyway, the real point of this blog is to say I love Jason Alexander.