Ever have one of those days when nothing goes right?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bsXOcK9_Cw

A friend sent this to me and it's just so wrong but strangely I cannot stop watching it.

Killer Peanut Butter Now Causing Mental Impairment

We've all heard about the recent peanut butter scare.

It seems that due to a faulty sprinkler in a Georgia plant there has been some salmonella contamination to several products.

I had heard all about it on the local and national news. Although I must confess that I wasn't really paying close attention.

The other day I ordered some Girl Scout cookies and while I did pause when I ordered my usual 4 boxes of Tagalongs and 2 boxes of Do-si-dos, I figured that the GS organization must know if their cookies were part of the recall or not. Of course that did not stop me from ordering.

Earlier today I was reading this news article about the peanut butter recall:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28878691\

That led me to click on the interactive map:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28861005/

Which then told me that there have been 20 cases reported from my state of Virginia.

Then I clicked on this related story:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28774849/

While I was reading it I remembered last week I had bought some Keebler Fudge Peanut Butter filled cookies. Naturally I clicked open a new window and typed in Keebler.com.

While I was waiting for it to load I clicked back over to the searchable list of CDC peanut butter outbreaks:

http://www.accessdata.fda.gov/scripts/peanutbutterrecall/index.cfm

I was searching around for the Keebler I had just bought and then got sidetracked because, #1 the dog wanted outside and #2 the cat was very loudly meowing at me.

Then I left the room and returned by this time forgetting all about the whole peanut butter problem.

That's when the wind chimes started.

In my kitchen the sound of wind chimes were very faint but rhythmically ringing.

I brushed it off as the wind outside. I do have a few wind chimes hanging under my deck and maybe it was the wind.

I let my dog in and then realized that there was no wind outside and I could not hear the wind chime noise outside.

I started looking around my kitchen for anything that would make a faint sound much like a wind chime but I couldn't come up with anything.

Then I remembered that downstairs, directly below me there is an electric wind chime thing that my sister gave me years ago and maybe I had bumped the on switch when I was down there earlier in the day cleaning.

I rushed down the stairs and into the room but the wind chime was silent. It wasn't even plugged into the wall outlet.

I went back upstairs and when I walked into the kitchen I could hear the chimes again. I looked at my dog and cat who were both standing in the kitchen and neither of them said a word.

Useless animals.

I left the room because now in the back of my mind I was thinking that I was going insane. Maybe the noise wasn't really happening. Maybe I was the only one in the world that could hear it. Maybe it is the sound that the grim reaper uses before he darkens your door.

I took that thought along with me as I left the kitchen and went to sit down on my bed. I thought this is stupid, there has to be something in that kitchen making that goddamn noise!

After collecting my thoughts and pushing away the horrific idea that the grim reaper would use the soft, soothing sounds of wind chimes to get your attention before he kills you, I ventured back into the kitchen again. This time I was bound and determined to stop the noise once and for all, even if I had to burn the kitchen down to do it.

When I walked through the doorway I heard the soft sounds again. I sat down in my chair in front of my computer, defeated, tired, spent.

I was just about to give myself over to the fact that one of these two possibilities were occurring:

A) I Was The Only One That Could Hear It

B) Life As I Know It May Be Close To Over.

Then I realized the noise was coming from my computer.

I had forgotten to close this fucking website:

http://www.keebler.com/#

My laptop speakers were on the very lowest setting.

Can I speak to Seymour Butz? Has anybody seen Mike Rotch?

I work in an office less than 20 miles from Washington in DC.

The area is all abuzz over the inauguration tomorrow. The local news is busy scaring the hell out of anyone that is even thinking about maybe coming to the district for the swearing in and the parade. Also, nobody apparently has balls like President Obama. That man has sooo many balls, big and small that he should change his middle name to Cajones. Muy cajones.

Forget about trying to get into one of Obama's balls. People that live across the street from the event halls can't even get in.

This morning on my way into work I passed a whole herd of passenger buses parked along the side of the road, staging for tomorrows big event. By herd, I mean more than 10 because that’s when I stopped counting.

When I arrived in my office, I hit the play button for the weekend voice mail. On January 17th, at 6:03 p.m., I got this message from a very frail sounding little old lady:

(Actual transcription)

“Yes, I’m calling long distance from Washington State. I’m trying to reach Reverend Earl W. Stafford, Sr. I get… I’m a senior and I’m calling to ask if my son could be considered for one of the tickets to see the inauguration. He is so excited about President Obama being elected and has even donated money he couldn’t afford. I’m… I know this isn’t probably the way you do it but because we live in a small town and so far away, uhm, we are on a limited income and he makes probably a little over 1200 dollars a month. We try to share expenses in the same apartment. It’s, ah, two bedroom. And, uhm, I would like to go but I’m just 6 weeks out of a major surgery. I had knee replacement so I might hold him back somewhat. Anyway, uhm, we’re very excited and he followed this whole campaign. We aren’t Baptists but we are, are religious. And we are Protestants. Our phone number is _________ My sons name is Brian R. and I’m Mrs. R. My husband is deceased. Thank you very much. Bye.”


I didn’t know what in the world she was talking about so I googled “Reverend Earl W. Stafford, Sr.” and found this website:

http://www.blackvoices.com/blogs/2008/12/05/earl-w-stafford--peoples-inaugural-project/2

Then I clicked on a link in that website and was taken here:

http://www.thestaffordfoundation.org/

I noticed the “Contact Us” tab so I emailed them, passing along Mrs. R’s phone number and request for her son. I told them that although she dialed incorrectly, someone should try to contact her to let her know her request was received, even if it’s too late for the festivities tomorrow.

I really hope that someone from that organization calls her back because there is no way in hell I’m calling her back. No. Way.

(She sounded slightly nuts)

So tomorrow I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I may just stay home and avoid all the hoopla that the news people have been warning us all about. Of course those are the same idiots that tell us a major snow storm is on the way so all the counties close schools and one lone flake appears from the sky. They have a similar record in the summertime telling us the weekend will be sunny, clear and 82º and then of course, it rains from Friday to Monday morning.

Those people just can't be trusted to know stuff.

Grab a chair and sit a spell, let's visit

I believe that things happen for a reason. The universe may be chaotic and unorganized but I still believe that people and things come and go, in and out of our lives for some reason or another. Sometimes the reason is evident and other times you never get an answer for its entrance or exit. I’ve learned to just roll with it and be happy with whatever is occurring on a daily basis.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ten years ago I was wandering around a flea market. It was the middle of summer and the place was packed end to end with vendors selling antiques or homemade items.

I remember the chairs as if I had bought them yesterday. They were dark brown, unassumingly small chairs, it was the flower that caught my eye. They had flowers carved into the top rung of their ladder backs. The flower took these little chairs from bland to fabulous. I assumed that someone had carved those flowers in there to help the chairs have a little pizzazz.

I was not in any particular need for two chairs that day. Actually chairs were the last thing I needed. I felt drawn to them though and had no idea as to why.

I asked the man sitting on a stool how much he wanted for them. “Twenty-five dollars for both” he said. I happily paid him the money and took my beautiful new-old chairs out to my truck.

Once I got the chairs home I inspected them. They were at least fifty years old, maybe more. The seats were covered in a hideously ugly, shiny, orange fabric. I removed one of the seats because that orange had to go. After I got it unscrewed from the chair frame, I flipped it over and was surprised to see that the orange was on top of something else.

I carefully pulled away the old fabric and revealed a beautiful hand sewed flower motif on black fabric. It was the original seat cover and it was way better than the orange.

I sat there looking at the chairs, wondering what I was going to do with them. I thought about screwing them together and making a bench out of them. Lucky for them I’m not exactly craft-tastic. My beautiful little chairs sat in my house for many years. I moved three times in those years and I carried them myself every single time.

Those chairs spoke to me all those years earlier so they must need to be in my life for a reason.

-~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two years ago I met only_a_dream online at a website where forum posting was the rage. Her and I were goofing around there one night and started emailing each other. I liked her immediately and we began building a friendship.

Six months later I was in St. Louis visiting one of my sisters. Dream graciously made the six hour car drive to come and meet me. Finally I could see the whole girl instead of just guessing what she was like.

She was almost exactly as I had imagined her to be. She is warm and friendly, open and witty. She is intelligent and just damn fun to be around. Her beauty is deep and real. I felt an instant connection to her, something that is almost indescribable. We had so much in common we could have been related, or should have been. I have three sisters and Dream felt exactly like one of them, five minutes after seeing her beautiful, smiling face.

We spent a few hours together, then it was time for her to go so we said our goodbyes. She was the high point of my St. Louis vacation and let me tell you it’s hard to top Clydesdales.
About a month later I flew to Chicago to stay at Dream’s house for a long weekend.

I couldn’t wait to see her again. She’s just the kind of person that you want to spend time with. Her energy is amazing. Her essence is soft and light, easy to enjoy. She is also hilariously funny all the time.

She met me at O’Hare airport at 8 a.m. What a good sport she was to get up so early to come and fetch me. We embraced and I told her how wonderful it was to see her again. We got into her car and she whisked me back to her house so I could freshen up and rest a bit.

Never once since the first time I had spoken to Dream until now did I ever wonder what brought her into my life. Friends are a thing that you don’t question. Friends just are. Friends just happen.

Once we got to her house she lugged my gigantic, heavy suitcase up the stairs. I was so happy to be on the ground again. Yeah, the good old ground.

Her home is truly lovely. It is exactly how I would have guessed her home would be, warm and inviting just like her. I felt comfortable there immediately, just like a home away from home.
After she put my stuff in her spare bedroom we both went back downstairs. We were chitter-chatting the whole time, both so full of excitement.

She went into her kitchen and as I walked into the dining room I saw something that really took me aback.

Sitting at a dark brown dining table were two dark brown chairs. The chairs had flowers carved into the backs of them. The chairs were exactly the same chairs that fifteen years ago I had to have.

I finally found out after all those years why I had to have those chairs.

In my wildest dreams I could never of dreamt of meeting a person that many years later who would own those same two chairs. It’s really the kind of thing that fictional stories are made of, not real life.

I asked her where she got the chairs from and she told me that her grandmother had given her the table and chairs years ago. I told her about my chairs and she couldn’t believe it either. We both thought it was a hoot.

So, now here I sit. Almost two years later and Dream has become one of my closest and most cherished friends.

I know that people and possessions come and go from our lives, sometimes quickly and sometimes they fade away over time, but I hope that Dream is in mine for the rest of my life.



*Note: I've been working on this blog entry for a long time. It's still not even close to doing justice to the wonderfulness of Dream. I figured it was time to go ahead and post it though*

Books

I love reading books. I have never stopped to think about why that is. It must just be something in my genes because I know a lot of people that hate reading anything that doesn’t say “Menu” at the top.

Ever since I was about 7 years old, I can remember being very excited when the bookmobile would be making a stop at my school.

There I would be, anxiously looking through tables of books, the money my mother had given me held tightly in my hand. A big smile on my face as I perused the titles and read the cover flaps.

As soon as I had made my choices and completed the transaction I could hardly wait to get home and read my new books. Hardly. Wait.

I cannot remember the first book I ever read from cover to cover but I do remember who got me interested in reading books. My older sister had a good friend that came to live with us for about six months. Calling her an “avid reader” was an understatement. She brought along with her piles and piles of books when she moved in. She even kept a handwritten record of every book she had ever read in her life. “Anal retentive” was also an understatement to describe her, but the family loved her anyway.

She is the one credited with getting me going. I remember her telling me that every book has a story or some important information to tell you and whether it be knowledge that the book is imparting to you or just helping to pass the time, books are to be read. She also said that you should always read a book from start to finish because you won’t know how good or bad it is until the end.

The first big author I recall reading was Stephen King. In the late 70’s and for 20 years after I read every single thing that man wrote. Back in the day, his early stories really had a feel to them, a flow. After a while his words became familiar to me, like an old friend you only see once in a while but know well.

I have a very good friend that reads electronic books. She has been trying her very damnedest to get me involved in that whole movement but I just cannot seem to engage.

When she talks to me about it she uses words like “fictionwise.com” and “moby” and “reader” and “kindel”. Half the time I think she is speaking Chinese or I am as lost as I would be if she was.

Today I went to a website she gave me and I tried, I really tried. I just could not get into it. It felt more like work to be reading something on my computer screen then to be lounging back on my sofa with pillows all around me and a lamp gently peeking over my shoulder.

It’s not that I don’t get the concept of electronic books. I mean I understand that there are plenty of upsides to them. Like for instance being able to carry an entire library of books with you wherever you travel, or carrying a small electronic device in your pocketbook, more room for all the other crap I already carry. I totally get that you download them immediately, faster than standing in line at Borders to buy the hard copy, not to mention that electronic books are usually cheaper.

I just have always loved the feel of a book. The weight of it in my hands, the smell of the print on paper. Whether it is a paperback or a hardcover, I always look forward to settling in a comfy chair and getting lost in a good book.

There have been countless good books I’ve read over my lifetime. Just to name a few in no particular order would be:

Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand (it will take you 6 months to read it but it’s worth it)

The Stand by Stephen King (I could and have read this numerous times)

The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M Auel (the whole series actually)

Incarnations of Immortality (The series) by Piers Anthony (this guy writes like “da bomb”)

The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins (this one makes you go hmmmm)

Requiem for the Devil by Jeri Smith-Ready (quick read but humorous)

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (yes I cried all through this fucker)

Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak (shut up)

The Hobbit by J.R.R Tolkien (this was one of the first books I remember ever reading)

The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger (I read this before it was required in school, it was worth it)

Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell (yes, I know, but it’s way better than the movie)

Anne Frank by Anne Frank (school turned me on to this story and wow what a story)

I’m leaving out a ton of good ones but I was recalling this list by memory. Those were a few that came to mind quickly.

Currently I’m reading a series called The Black Dagger Brotherhood, by J. R. Ward. It’s an erotic paranormal romance and man-o-man can that chick write. I find myself laughing out loud and occasionally sniffing back a few tears. Who would have thought that a book about vampires could make that happen? Not me.

So I feel I must apologize to my friend. I don’t think I’ll ever make the jump to green reading. I do unplug my toaster and cell phone charger though, so I think that balances out my carbon footprint for continuing to buy books.

I hope anyway.