Sunday, October 14, 2007
Clearance Sales, How I love Thee (And How I Hate The Cold.)
Most of you are now going "Tights? Huh? She's not girly enough to wear tights!"
Allow me to educate you, my friends, and you Manly Men, yes, you, over there shivering like a chihuahua in a room full of Chinese fry cooks, you might want to pay attention to this as well.
Women's pantyhose and tights are not for fashion. Unless you're dumb enough to wear a skirt and nothing else over them, pantyhose and tights are some of the warmest things on earth.
No, really. Worn under jeans, pantyhose will keep you nearly as warm as long johns. Tights will keep you slightly warmer than pantyhose, due to the difference in the fabrics.
Now, if you layer pantyhose, then socks, then long johns, then jeans, well, your legs and feet will be toasty warm when it's chilly out, and your movement won't be restricted any more than it is by just long johns. Double your warmth, same great flexibility.
Tights, again, are even a smidge warmer.
I'm a wimp about the cold. When it hits the fifties, I start layering. I do not like the cold, at all. Ever. Unfortunately I have had some time to learn the methods of keeping one's cookies from freezing off.
And, in the absence of my beloved Carhart coveralls, which just wouldn't work trying to ride, at least not while trying to teach Monkey things, I will use many methods of keeping warm.
Pantyhose/tights (sometimes more than one pair) under long johns, under jeans. A-shirt under thermal shirt, under sweater, under jacket. Layered socks (up to two pairs of anklet socks under thick work socks, inside my insulated boots. Thank you Rockies, for making insulated slip-on cowboy boots.) Now I just have to remember to get my Carhart stocking cap the next time I'm home, and pick up a new pair of insulated work gloves, and I'll be good to go for the really cold times to come.
Don't look at me that way people, nature didn't give me much insulation, so I have to provide it on the outside!
Besides, I can still kick someone's butt in all my layers, if I have to.
Edit: Another thing I've come to love about my synthetic saddle is that it allows the heat from my horse to travel up through the saddle pad and the saddle, so my butt and the insides of my legs are nice and warm. Everyone else is sitting on stiff, cold leather, while my saddle is still flexible, cushioned, and toasty warm.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Re-Write Part 2
“Boss Lady!”
Boss Lady sat back in her seat, banged her head on the back window, sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.
The Whiner. Why do I always get stuck with The Whiner?
She made a face and reached for the mic while she made a face and mentally answered her own question.
Because I’m the weekend fill-in. Because Dingbat does the scheduling, and he doesn’t want to deal with Whiner. Because everything happens to me.
“Yeah.”
“Boss Lady, I need a break.”
“Whiner, Dawn is making her rounds, there’s fifteen minutes left of the north end flagger’s break and then she’ll be there to give you a break. Hang in there.”
“Ten-four Boss Lady.”
Of course, he knew that. He just wanted to whine about it.
“He knew that. He just wanted to whine about it. But you bought me fifteen minutes, anyway.”
“Ack! Dawn, one of these days you’re going to get yourself shot.”
“But today is not that day, Owner Lady banned you from carrying on site after you waved your gun in the face of that trucker that called you a miniature Napoleon.”
“He also threatened to punch you if I recall correctly.”
“Yeah, but I had a mental target painted on his beady little nads. You completely stole my fun that day, you know. You broke my streak!”
“What streak?”
“I had made a grown man cry every week for a month and a half!”
“You, dear girl, are evil.”
“Yeah, yeah. I learned from a master.” Dawn made a bow.
“Get back to work before I fire you.” Boss Lady chuckled.
“Yes, Mem’sab. Whatever you say, oh Raja. Yessa Massa.” Dawn walked back to her car, bowing.
“You’re white! Live with it!” Boss Lady laughed.
She shook off her annoyance with Whiner and put her truck into gear, listening to the clank of the transmission.
Poor Bertha. You were great when it was just me driving you, weren’t you girl? But now the men have gone and tore you up.
Boss Lady snorted, and drove off to check on things. She waved as she passed the guys she knew, and listened to the chatter on the radio.
Ah, for the days when they didn’t pave on the weekends. But they’re behind schedule. Of course they’re behind schedule, they elected to start the job in January. There was three feet of snow on the ground until March.
“Well I’m a redneck woman, I ain’t no high class broad,”
I love that ring tone, Boss Lady thought as she stopped the truck, checking the amount of service on the phone before she answered it.
“Hello, this is Boss Lady,”
“Is this the supervisor at the road construction site?”
“Yes it is.”
“Ma’am this is Dispatch, we’ve got a highway patrolman coming through there, we need to get him through as fast as possible. As. Fast. As. Possible.” The dispatcher spoke the last sentence slowly, as if Boss Lady were a slow second grader.
“Yeah, I got that part. It would help me if I knew what direction he was coming from.”
“The south. And he needs to get through-“
“As fast as possible, yes. I’m on it. Anything else?”
“Keep an eye out for a dark green pickup.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter why!”
“Yes, yes it does matter. See, if he ran without paying for his gas, well, yes, we want him caught, and we’ll watch for him, and hold him until the authorities get here if we can. But, if he’s a mass murderer on the run from Johnny Law, I’m not going to endanger my crew or the other crews on this site by antagonizing him any more than we absolutely have to.”
The dispatcher sighed into the phone, and Boss Lady could actually hear her rolling her eyes as she said, “It was a hit and run in Lamar.”
“See how easy that was?”
“That officer better not be delayed or-“
“Or what? You’ll take away my playground priveledges? We’ll get him through as quickly as possible, and safely. Goodbye.”
Boss lady flipped the cell phone closed on her thigh and grabbed the radio mic. Everyone was chattering back and forth and she couldn’t find any empty airspace, so she finally just stepped on them.
“Everybody shut up!!!”
Boss Lady’s adrenaline was pumping. She loved pulling cops through, it was a huge rush. She also felt a little guilty for feeling excited about things that usually meant something was going very wrong somewhere else, but shut the guilt up with the knowledge that by having her fun and leading the emergency vehicles through, the people who needed help, or needed to be caught, would get it that much sooner.
“I just got a call, we’ve got a State Patrol coming hot, hit and run up north, vehicle description: Dark green pickup, unknown plate. Probably a largish dent near the front. Keep an eye out, hold all traffic North End till I get the Hi-Po led through. Pilot car, what’s your 20?”
Damnit, I’m talking like a cop again. I thought I broke myself of that habit.
“Traffic is south bound, just passing the plant now.”
Shit, I’ll be leading him straight into it.
The whole time she was talking, Boss Lady was driving to the south end to meet the officer.
“Shit. Dawn, you got a copy?”
“Ten-Four.”
“You anywhere near the paver recently?”
“Yep, and I know what you’re thinking. I think there’s enough room to squeak ‘em by if I move a couple of drums, I’ll get on that now.” Dawn always knew what to do before she had to be told. Or at least, most of the time, and when she didn’t, she listened to the instructions she was given, which was a major bonus in a flagger.
“If we’ve got a wide load in line that bridge will be a problem.” Boss Lady ran through a mental list of horrible scenarios, trying to plan for all of them at once, so that she wouldn’t have to think later, when something did go wrong.
“If we’ve got a load that wide, we’ve got bigger problems than the bridge. And, if it looks too tight, you can always pull the Hi-Po over into Bantry’s driveway.” Dawn’s voice was calm, if you didn’t know her better. Boss Lady could hear the tension in her tone, and knew that Dawn was on at least as much of an adrenaline rush as she was.
“You’re right. All right, you move those drums, and then snag an air horn and start warning workers. You won’t get to all of them, but some is better than none.”
“Ten-Four Boss Lady, I’m on it.”
Boss Lady was at the south end, and she could see the flashing lights coming.
WTF Over?
As we were leaving to go to Wally-world, I noticed that the little old lady that lives across the street from my apartment complex was outside. It's pretty rare to see her outside, she's pretty arthritic and doesn't move well at all, pretty much bent double all the time, but I didn't think much of it, she was going back inside, it looked like. I saw her tug on the door a couple of times, but I figured it was just sticky.
That is, until we got back from Wally World (and I admit, I didn't look for her on the way in,) I dropped my stuff in the apartment, and we went to go get lunch. She was still outside. Still tugging on that door.
The latch on her screen door had fallen, locking her out of her home.
So, I went over and offered assistance, tried the time-tested method of jiggling it *really* fast, but that didn't work. I finally had to pry it open with a butter knife that she'd had laying on her porch for gardening stuff, but we got her inside, and did a temporary fix with some masking tape that Mamaw had in the car. Got lunch, hit Wal Mart again, and went back with a slightly better fix of duct tape.
The WTF portion of this is that that poor lady was locked out of her house for at least forty five minutes. There's fairly constant traffic on my street. How many people drove by and saw her tugging at the door?
She was getting pretty close to hysterical when I walked up. How many people drove past a scared old lady, and just kept on driving? Mamaw thinks she might have seen her outside when she arrived, which was twenty minutes before we left the apartment.
How long would she have had to stand out on her porch? Because no one wanted to take five minutes to help out a sweet old lady?
What the hell is happening to this area?!? It used to be that you could break down, and the first person by would stop and offer help. Now, fifteen or twenty cars might drive right by before anyone stops to even see if everyone is all right.
It disgusts me.
On a better note, the nice lady's dog acts like a freaking psycho whenever someone comes to the door. I had my knee in the door taping the latch, to keep the dog from getting out, and the dog got slobber on my jeans... but never bit me. It also never stopped growling and barking it's head off acting like I was killing something very dear to it.
I told the pup it was a good dog, before I left. I'm glad she's got a deterrent against some of the slimier elements of society. If I hadn't only noticed the slobber on my jeans after I finished with the masking tape, I'd have figured that the dog would bite anyone who was dumb enough to put a finger in the door.
I also didn't make any moves to actually come into the house, which might be an entirely different situation. But I think it's a good thing she's got her protector.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Holy Crap!

Oakland, California, congratulations! I don't have a book to give away, but if you want to, email me at the address on my profile, and I'll write an entry on the subject of your choice.
A big thank you to everyone who reads, I'm just overwhelmed with the response I've gotten with this thing, and I really do appreciate each and every one of you. Not to mention the ego boost I get when I break a hundred visits a day!
More Kitten Pictures
And in spite of the evil look she's giving above, she was really purring while I was taking the photos.... the evil glare is for the flash.
Aren't the fuzzballs just adorable though??
Oh, and clicking on the pictures will take you to the ginormous versions, which shows the cuteness even better!
Oh, yeah, I'm anorexic...
Those people have never seen me eat. Ask the Farmparents, if you like.
Tonight, for dinner, I just finished a ten-ounce steak, a can of green beans, and half of a package of Lipton Noodle Sides. Not half a serving, half of the total amount produced. I'll finish off the rest of it in a few hours for a before-bed snack.
Yes, my metabolism is that high. Now imagine how I feel when I eat like that and step on the scales to find out that I've actually lost a pound.
Frustrating. There are times that I'm just not hungry, and I have to force myself to eat, lest I fall off my horse from fainting.
And then there are times that I eat like a pig, as evidenced tonight. And even during those times (sometimes especially) it seems like it's a constant battle to maintain my weight, which is low enough anyway that every time I go in for an annual check up, they test me for anemia.
I guess some people just have to find something wrong with everyone else, right off the bat. They don't give the person a chance to display their own faults, which people almost invariably do, they just pick something, and harp on it.
Fine, I'm skinny, and you feel that you're over weight. Tell you what, why don't you get off your butt and exercise, and I'll go over here and eat snack cakes and sit on my ass for a while. Eventually, one of our weight situations is bound to reverse itself, but I'll bet yours does before mine.
Aggravating, and funny, at the same time.
But Damn, that dinner was goooood.... I feel like a little piggy.
Shoot Him First. No really....
He's also the type to think he knows everything because he spends all of his free time in his parents' basement studying and eating ho-ho's.
Usually I can blow off his attitude that he's always right, because he doesn't point it at me often. He's tried it a few times, and hasn't been able to support his theory as well as I could, which of course made him feel insecure and doubt himself, which made him run home and eat more ho-ho's.
I really don't like this twerp, in case you hadn't noticed.
Meanwhile, yesterday we were discussing our next paper, (character analysis) and the one after that, which is supposed to be a literary argument, but which has been changed, thanks to the instructor, to a paper about a banned book, play, or poem.
I'm all for this, I despise the practice of banning something. If an elementary or high school feels something isn't appropriate, yes, they have the right to not have it on their library shelves or in their classrooms. But don't tell students that they can't read it. I see a difference between a school choosing not to have something in the library, and a school "banning" something. Mostly it's a difference in attitude. If a school chooses not to teach a book in a classroom, or put it in the library, that's an educational decision that the people who run the school have the right to make. "Banning" something, however, is an attempt to intimidate students into ignoring the work. If I carry a "Banned" book onto a campus, elementary, high school, or college, will they kick me out? If I give my nephew a banned book to read when he's in high school, and he reads it at school, will he receive disciplinary action? It's possible. Some people are so touchy about the smallest crap that they don't even want their children seeing the covers of these "inappropriate" books.
And colleges banning things is just stupid, we're all legally adults, even if some of the students don't act like it. Allow us to make our own decisions. And if someone gets offended by a book? Well, here's a hint... don't read that book again! If you really feel strongly about it, don't read that author anymore! Then you won't be offended!
But I digress, we were discussing this, and by extension the movie ratings system, which led to a discussion of violence and video games, which led, inevitably, school shootings and Virginia Tech.
This conversation followed the subject of VT being raised. The other participant is the chunky young man with the smarter-than-you attitude I mentioned at the beginning of the post (see, there WAS a point to that!)
I'm Smarter Than You Are: "Virginia Tech is just another example of how video games de-sensitize people to violence. Without the video games, he wouldn't have known how to do it, and he wouldn't have had the guts to do it."
Farmgirl: "Are you shitting me? This dude was bug fuckin nuts long before he ever started playing Counterstrike. Did you even know what game he played? Dude had a god complex, and a persecution complex. The game gave him a framework, but if he hadn't played that game he would have based his little fantasy world around a movie, or a book. The real problem with Virginia Tech was the victim mentality. One person fought back, and barred the door. It was an old man, a holocaust survivor. Everyone else just laid down to die, instead of fighting back"
ISTYA: "It wouldn't have changed anything if they had fought back, he had a gun. He wasn't going to stop shooting people because someone hit him."
FG: "Oh, give me a break. The guy had this mental defect that he was unstoppable, untouchable, if someone would have jumped his ass in the hallway while he was reloading, it would have shattered his little fantasy. Not to mention they could have taken the guns away from him, and it would have been stopped, right there."
ISTYA: "The police were on the way. They did what they were supposed to do."
FG: "So they were supposed to allow themselves to be killed?? Instead of taking a stand for their own personal safety, wait for help to arrive who knows when? You're all about taking a stand for intellectual freedom, and you're throwing around buzzwords like thoughtcrime, and censorship. How's this for a thought crime: Our country, and our youth, has been conditioned not to defend themselves. People die every day because they're so brainwashed with "don't hit, Timmy, it's not nice, even when they hit you first" that they can't even conceive of the fact that they have a right, and a responsibility to do everything they can to defend their own life and well being. Women are raped because it's not lady like to hit, or scratch. You want to stand up for your rights? Don't pick the ones that are convenient for you, it's all or nothing."
ISTYA: "So you're saying we should charge an armed man, if he walks through that door right now."
FG: "I'm saying that everyone should defend themselves to the best of their ability, as much as the circumstances allow. I'm saying that no one should just lay down and die because some nutjob decided they should."
ISTYA: "Well, I'm not going to charge an armed man. I would try to talk to him."
FG: "Tell me something, were you born without balls, or were they removed surgically?"
The instructor changed the subject, after that.....
When we were walking out of class, he started muttering under his breath as he was walking behind me. I caught the words "gun nut" and simply turned around, looked him in the eye, and called him a pansy.
I don't think he likes me much.....