Loose Lips Sink Ships...

especially if you're Derreck the sound guy, and particularly if you've tarried too long at the bar of your local Applebee's.

Okay, so we were dining at the Applebee's in Branson, Missouri after a long day of fishing, having been disappointed by multiple closed pizza joints. Apparently, there is no pie for you! after about 10 p.m. in the City That Sleeps Very Little. We were a fairly sedate table, hoping for a quick bite to eat before we fell asleep in the booth. The service was pretty slow, but we were in no danger of dreamland thanks to the varied tales of Derreck, who was seated with his date(?) at the table behind us. Derreck, who apparently is the sound guy at one of the local theaters, (I believe, possibly, Moe Bandy) was suavely regaling the young lady at his table with tales of past sexual escapades and other alternately embarrassing and annoying moments. The conversation was impossible to ignore (believe me, I tried), as the decibel level was commensurate with the corresponding level of alcohol consumption. Here's what we learned about Derreck:
- the production guy at the theater, with whom Derreck has worked for two years, does not seem to know his name. My guess is that he finds Derreck as goofy as we did and purposely shuns him, but that's just me.
- on multiple occasions, Derreck has sneezed and the snot has done a boomerang bungee into his mouth, so now he guards specifically against this eventuality. Also, this is very embarrassing for Derreck, and he does not tell just anyone about it. We feel special.
- Derreck has never used any illegal or prescription drugs. He does admit to having taken over-the-counter Tylenol.
- Derreck has never had a hand job in public. Shocking.
- Another of Derreck's secrets: he was once in bed with a girl and had a bad experience with "talking dirty". She said, "Derreck." He said, "What?" Has the world ever known a more scandalous conversation? He says that only three people in the world know this story. Better make that seven, Derreck.
- The young lady at the table admits to giggling in the sack, as it is like "being on a roller coaster or something". Derreck's mental picture?: his lady friend on top, saying "whee!" Derreck wishes to bring this fantasy to life, as it would "make his day". I bet.

I could go on, but those are some of the real high points. Of course, we were spared the full brunt of the conversation, as a line or two of it took place in text messages across the table, which of course is, as Derreck says, "the most retarded thing ever". Umm...not quite.

Happy Halloween!

Behold, my magical 4-hour pumpkin! Combining Mickey and Sleeping Beauty Castle stencils printed from the Disneyland website and a little of my own imagination, I created this beautiful Halloween masterpiece. To quote one of the trick-or-treating children, "It's the best pumpkin ever!" Everyone at the doorstep ooh-ed and ah-ed over our pumpkin, especially once they realized that it's real! The pumpkin is from Burt's Pumpkin Farm in north Georgia, and I estimate that it weighs in at around 50 lbs. It's so thick that I could not cut the "lid" all the way out with a regular steak knife. I had to get out a longer carving knife to get a long enough blade. It had about a dozen little pumpkin vines growing from seeds inside it, and I was able to save three of them in a glass of water. For such a big pumpkin it didn't have a lot of guts, so that part went quickly. I started out by pinning the paper patterns onto the surface with straight pins and then scoring the outline into the skin with the business end of a corn cob holder. Then I used a garnishing tool to carve about halfway down into the meat of the pumpkin. This allows the light to come through subtly, creating a soft glow. I had to go over the whole design several times in order to cut deeply enough into the thick flesh to allow the light to show through. The "sparkles" that you see were stabbed in with a phillips head screwdriver. It was rather violent, but that's Halloween for you. I cut the sally port of the castle (the big door) all the way through to allow the most brilliant light to shine forth, as if there is a grand ball taking place inside. The pumpkin is lighted by a string of about 5 nightlight size bulbs dropped in through the top. This gives a little more candle power than a votive and allows the light to be distributed more evenly. It also does not cook the pumpkin from the inside out like a candle or go out annoyingly in the middle of the evening. Next year I may add a flicker bulb for effect. The result is gorgeous, if I do say so myself. I'm very pleased with it and was even asked to come out of the house to meet admirers. My Mom dragged me onto the porch, "Here's the carver!" People who love Disney as much as we do loved our pumpkin, and I'm glad that we could share a little Halloween fun without the blood and guts.

Dorm Sweet Dorm

My bunk is the snazziest. They may not allow me to bring my own comforter, but they didn't say I couldn't bring a duvet cover. HA!


It's luggage! It's a handy storage unit! Two, two, two things in...well, you get the idea. If only it made hundreds of julienne fries...


I am, apparently, sharing a dorm room with Cinderella.



Outen? Must be a yankee thing.

Paradise or Prison? Yes.

Sometimes it's not so much where you are as where you're not...

Misplaced in Beantown, and Other Misadventures of the Summer Camp for Adults

Okay, so I finally got to Boston, which is a long story I don't want to go into here. Getting out of Boston was no picnic either. For starters, I don't think the guys at the rental car place gave me the most efficient route to the interstate. What really caused the problem, though, was the lack of signage and lane markings. Well, not so much the lane markings, but that was just weird. Apparently people in New England like to just pull out in front of you too. Oh wait - that's everywhere. It took me about an hour just to get out of the city, and I was stressed out the entire time. There were times when it was just one huge lane full of cars traveling in a blob together. There must be a paint shortage. Once I finally got on I-95, I had the chance to enjoy the spaciousness of my upgraded rental car. Certain that I would get stuck with the blue jelly bean on the lot, I was astounded when the guy instead took me to a Hyundai Sonata with sun roof and XM satellite radio. It has lots of buttons to push, which kept me entertained the entire way to New Hampshire. I found the school without too much trouble, and got settled in. Not as hippy-ish as I had expected, but definitely like summer camp. I did not get much sleep last night (after starting my day at 4:15 a.m.) due to the noises down the hall. I have never heard guys giggle so much in my life. I was really beginning to wonder if they might be having a pillow fight down there. I didn't go look. Not wanting to be the cranky old lady, I hung a blanket across my bunk, but on my eye mask and ear plugs, and did the best I could. I'm not sure I was ever fully asleep, but at least I got some rest of a sort. Tonight I'm hoping that people will be a little more tired and will also respect the quiet hours, but I'm getting out my iPod just incase. A little Sade or something ought to put me right out. I'm just hoping that I can stay awake long enough to do tonight's textbook reading. Not bloody likely, though. I nearly fell asleep on my feet at the local Wal-mart. Ah, camp. I will try to post some photos next time.

The Toxic Circus

As I prepare to head off to the "summer camp for adults", also known as SOLO, I find that I must also deal with the incredible frustrations of subtropical pest management. One of the joys of living in south Florida is having to share one's abode with all manner of creep-leggedy whatsits, one of the favorites being the ever-gnawing, ever-pooping termite. Our entire condo building is about to be tented, and as we were given no real choice in this matter, we have no option but to get on with all the cumbersome preparations associated with this deadly carnival coming to town. Why they make the tents in such cheerful, festive colors I will never understand. The truth is that the whole process is a royal pain in the hindquarters. The tents should be striped black and white, like old-fashioned prison garb. Before the exterminators arrive, we must remove all foods (except those in non-porous containers with factory seals), all living things, including plants, any moisture-proof mattress covers (???), all valuables, and basically anything we don't want to be stolen or destroyed. The company, naturally, has you sign the standard waiver stating that they are not responsible for theft/destruction/residential armageddon, and they suggest that you might think about hiring a security guard. Why? You have to leave all the windows open. Oh, but the house is required to be locked. Oh, except you have to give them a key, and then they'll leave it somewhere when they're done. Eh... There's also a bit about detaching any and all fencing from the house, which is going to be difficult considering ours is cinder block and basically part of the foundation. The outcome of this is that they have to tent over the fencing, which means they kill all the grass and other plants in the yard. I know this because the other building got done last week, and it looks like a targeted agent orange strike. Swell. Raid and D-con make my nose bleed, so I'm glad I'll be up in New Hampshire with the hippies for a few weeks. While the alleged "residue-free" treatment is going on, I will be happily crunching granola and listening to my classmates wax poetic about gnarly climbing routes. Then I'll come home and start the arduous process of washing every fricking thing in the house, because I might be poisoned by the "residue-free" treatment if I don't. I almost prefer the termites because at least they won't creep into my nervous system late at night. Wait 'til I tell the hippies about this...

Dock Devo

Okay, so I was splicing line on the Loggerhead dock a few weeks ago, accompanied by "Loggerhead Jay" and, eventually, Pete, when I had another of my Weird Al possessions. I know - the thought kinda makes you need a shower, doesn't it? But, seriously - if you know me you also know how I tend to parody songs on the spot when my mental radio dial goes spinning. Jay was saying something about one of the old dock lines getting a little sad looking and that if I had the materials he could whip it. What more impetus do you need to run with that? In mere seconds I was singing:

When your line is getting frayed
You must whip it
So your boats don't get away
You must whip it
If your dock line looks like crap
You must whip it
You can't make fast with that
You must whip it

Okay, so I know I added a couple of extra lines, but what do you want off the cuff? I initially considered rewriting the whole song, but decided not to labor it too much. It was much funnier the way it initially came out, and yes, you probably did have to be there. Jay was, and he laughed, so mleh!

The Golden Age (of legwarmers)

How can I explain my love of the 80's? While women everywhere cringe in terror at the sight of 80's fashion filling the stores, I secretly smile and welcome its return. For me that time will always represent a golden age, a time when everything was just so cool. Logically, I suppose it makes no sense. We were terrified of nuclear war; homelessness, famine, and yuppies made the daily headlines, and greed was good. It sounds rather bleak. Somehow, though, jelly shoes, converse high tops in rainbow colors, and MTV made everything alright. I remember being at a friend's house and racing in from the pool to watch the premier of MTV on the local cable network. Our lives were one big Brat Pack movie. The labels could be brutal at times. Whether you were a skater, a bop, or a nerd, some things, at least were consistent. You could always see the bad guy coming because he had blonde, layered hair and was named "Chet" or "Chaz". As long as you held out, though, you knew he would eventually fall in love with the unpopular girl and stop tormenting everyone. Happiness was a piece of neon-hued netting tied around my head ala Madonna. An armful of o-ring bracelets kept boredom at bay, especially if you had the glow-in-the-dark kind. Getting in trouble at school meant you probably got caught with a slam book or had an argument with someone over who "hearts" which boy more, and who reserves the right to scribble it on the bottom of their shoes. You might have idolized Ferries Bueller or Bill and Ted, because they not only escaped school for a day but beat the constant contest for popularity. They also had good hair. If we were really honest with ourselves, none of us actually knew what Brass Monkey or Funky Cold Medina was, but we sure as heck thought it rocked. Those of us who became, in our minds, truly cool "went new wave" and started dressing in plaid and Chinese slippers. We felt that the secret of the universe was contained somewhere within the lyrics to "The End of the World as We Know It", if only we could figure them all out. We went to the fair and got Echo and the Bunnymen or Dead Kennedys painted on our faces, along with an anarchy symbol or two. Our parents, as Will Smith (then The Fresh Prince)put it, our parents just didn't understand. Ah, the 80's. I could go on, but I'm "outtatime". I wonder if putting on a set of shoulder pads would make the day any easier.

Furniture Milestone

Today I bought my first piece of big people furniture:


This is the first piece of legitimate furniture that is not a hand-me-down and did not come out of some box to be assembled by moi. I can hardly wait. I had to order it, so now I have to wait for two weeks before it's delivered. I'm a little lighter in the pockets, sure, but it's gonna be grand. Mine will be in a medium cherry finish to match what furniture I already have. I went with a pretty big manufacturer so that hopefully I can add pieces as time goes on and still have them match. Yay!

The 76 Car Wash - Far Out, Man

Today I decided that my car was finally filthy enough to need washing (that dirty, dirty girl!) and so I headed for the 76 gas station car wash. The one at the Shell station might have gotten it cleaner with the window scrubber guy at one end, the whirly bottle brushes of death inside, and the wipey guy at the exit, but those days are over for the Yeep. The harsh subtropical climate, when paired with her somewhat venerable age (10 yrs.), has led to the beginnings of paint oxidation and the full-on demise of the clearcoat in several areas. So, it's strictly touch-free for me and the old gal now. The water jets don't get her sparkling, but at least they don't make her naked. Anyhow, there I was, enjoying the fantastic show put on by the Ultimate wash (nothing's too good for my Yeep), and rocking along with some AC/DC when the "Clear Protectant" light came on. If you've never experienced this, you must. There are three separate hoses: yellow, blue, and pink. As the arm passes, each hose sprays several lines of coordinating colored foam across the vehicle, creating horizontal stripes that merge seamlessly together in an alternating technicolor pattern. At this very same moment in the wash, "Imagine" came on the radio. The different lines of colored foam began to droop and run together, and all I could see through every window was a fantastic display of psychedelic tie-dye swirling around to the music. A groovy time was had by all. I'm no expert, but I think it usually costs you a little more than $9.00 to see that in the traditional way. Who knew that the 76 car wash was so retro-hip? A few hours later I did drive through some mud holes and besmirch the wash job, but at least I get to go through the wash again. I'm hoping for a Pink Floyd-ian laser experience next. Maybe someday you'll join us, and the world will live as one.

By the way, if you didn't get it, that last line is from Imagine. Jeremy didn't even recognize the song title, so you're not alone.