Traveling Gently

My love for driving fast is well-known around the little circle I call home.  So are the results of that fast driving:  speeding tickets.

But the thrill of taking those curves, the quick arrival time — well, that last one is a bit of an oxymoron.  I realize that.  Me… quick arrival time.  That seems to indicate that I arrive in a timely fashion.

Therein lies the problem!!  Or joy!!!  All in the perspective.  My love for the furious and fast delivery has been predicated by my lack of punctual ability; therefore, I must go fast. Ah, yes.  That sounds so much better than, “I’m always late because I can’t get it together.”

Back years ago there was this little number that I drove around.  A fun little ride.

But now, post-Steve, I have come to appreciate the joy of traveling gently.  Driving casually down the road, enjoying the view, noticing my surroundings.  He has helped broaden my horizons, to see the forest instead of the tree.

I like that.  A lot.

When I Grow Up I Want To Be…

… a quilter.

Those handmade quilts with the beautiful designs in them are awesome pieces of artwork.  I have some that are probably 100 years old.  And I love them!

Which is why I want to quilt.  Which is why I want to be just like these ladies.

hard at quilting

a quilt like mine

… a horticulturist.

When I become a horticulturist, I will know every plant by its Latin name.

cannabis sativa or cannabis indica

cannabis sativa or cannabis indica

See?  I have already learned there is a difference in the cannabis plant.

I can't even say it's name!!

I can’t even say it’s name!!

EEEEEEEEEK!!!  How did that thing get in this blog?  Am I going to have to deal with those to be a horticulturist?

The real story of my horticulture endeavor shall be growing plants that will have color names because I can’t even remember the common name for them; thus, I will have blues and yellows in my gardens.  Perhaps chartreuse or salmon or — well, the list is rather lengthy.  

my kind of plants

my kind of plant

… a traveler!

traveling down life's highway

traveling down life’s highway

From east to west in our little home on wheels (when we get it) we shall travel the country, meeting people and making friends, seeing all the sights, living in warm weather when it’s freezing-your-butt-off temperatures at home.

The plan is to have a little more horsepower than this RV with perhaps an added amenity or two or three.  Plusher pleasure is my goal.


… an actor at Universal!

Darla at Universal

Darla at Universal

Yes.  This is the plan for my sis and I.  We are going to drag our husbands down to Florida in the winter months so that she and I can work at Universal.

We can’t wait to see you all there!

… a sleeper.

(Yawn.)  A goal that’s been a lifelong goal is to sleep at night.  To just go to bed, lay  my head on the pillow, and start snoring.  I’ve seen people do this, and I’ve heard it’s quite common; however, my dear father passed the no-sleeping gene down to me. (Thanks, Dad.)

But while I wait to grow into that, I’m going to count all the things I have grown up to do so far.  Sort of like counting sheep.

garden… scrapbook… play piano…….. (yawn)……. bake… cook………(yawn)………….paint/maintain pools…..wire houses…………(yawn)(yawn)….nap in the car…………….zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Just Try Saying It In The Mirror

all over the streets of New York City

I had no idea midgets were everywhere in the streets of New York City.  At least that was the story our state’s attorney was telling me this morning.  He stepped on one, he said.

He went to New York City last week for a little get-away.  Being a nice guy, he took his mom with him.  He said, “I hadn’t even walked on the streets of New York City before I stepped on a midget and turned my ankle.”   Uh, say what?  The visual of him stepping on a midget was just amazing.  (I might add here that I refer to small people as just that, small or little people.  That may be politically incorrect as well, but I’m pretty sure they would rather not be referred to as midgets.  I may be wrong.)

I said, “A midget?”  And he says, “Yes.  A midget.  I told Mom I hadn’t even walked the streets of New York City and I had already stepped on a midget.”

He didn’t seem to be too concerned about the little person.  I suppose since he had twisted his ankle and was apparently in pain.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around him stepping on a midget.  So once again, I asked, “A midget?”  And he says, “Yes, they’re everywhere?”

Whoa!  Hold up!  Was there some kind of convention of little people going on?  I was now visualizing little people so thick in the streets of NYC that a person could hardly walk for them.

Incredulous, I repeated, “Midgets?!??!”

That’s when he slapped his hand over his mouth to keep from guffawing out loud since we were in the courtroom with some minor court proceedings going on.  Which is, of course, the very reason for the mix-up.   In our conscientious effort to be quiet as we were talking about New York City, he was mouthing pigeons, and I was mouthing midgets.  Just as he realized I was saying midgets, I realized he was saying pigeons!

They're EVERYWHERE!!!!

And that’s when I had to jump up and exit the courtroom by the back door before I broke into belly laughing.  I laughed so hard in the clerk’s office that I cried.

So go stand in front of the mirror and mouth pigeons and then mouth midgets.  See what I mean?

This is the ONLY pic I could find to show you what I mean... sigh