Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Labour of Love

And now I have that awesome UB-40 album in my head. That's right, I said album, remember those?

Anyhoo the reason for my post. My labor of love has been my book. The book that I write every now and then when I get such an amazing idea that I cannot rest until it has been typed for perpetuity. The other day though, I figured out the ending.

I could have cried y'all. I love it. I just love it.

So I started with the skeleton, now have lean muscle affixed, and am now ready to add the fat, the sexy curves if you will. My excellent boss is on a well-deserved vacation for two weeks, and, since my desk is unnaturally clear of clutter, I decided, with blessings of course, to take a "staycation." Tomorrow I shall go to the Nashville Room at the main branch of the Nashville Public Library, and get lost in the downtown Nashville of 1901. I want to see pictures of old buildings, of merry people looking taciturn because they are waiting for the camera plate to be properly exposed. I want to get enough stuff to fill my brain and my book with imagery of a bygone time. Tomorrow morning I shall be a library nerd, and I cannot wait. This is the fun part - time for the sexy curves.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Sneakers on Power Lines

The last stretch of my drive home is the best. When I turn on to Trousdale Road from Harding Road, my view goes from commercial to residential in as much time as it took to read this. Crieve Hall is an older community in Nashville, filled with ranch houses on large parcels of land. Big old trees (the best kind) form a shady canopy over the road, and the road curves and dips just enough to make it reminiscent of a kid's roller coaster.

Driving at 35 mph gives me a chance to survey my peaceful surroundings. Dogs merrily running with their humans, cats lounging in pockets of sun on driveways, gardens bursting with produce are seen whichever way I turn my head.

But yesterday I saw something I usually ignore. I saw a pair of sneakers dangling from a power line. I thought to myself what is up with this? I have seen this phenomena in many places, but never pondered it long enough to wonder why people would do such a thing. It just seems such a Little Rascals sort of thing to do.

Aren't they just the cutest little things?

So I thought that today I would google the subject to find out what the deal was, and there is a wealth of urban legendry on this topic. According to, a popular belief is that sneakers dangling from utility wires designates "gang territory." Y'all I just don't see that happening in my neighborhood. Granted, we have crime, but most of the residents in my area are either the elderly, or young families. I have never seen kids sporting gang colors on their way to Crieve Hall Elementary School.

Another urban myth associated with this is that teenage boys who have just um "scored" for the first time will chuck their converse over a power line in celebration. Meh I dunno about this. Firstly, do you know how expensive sneakers are these days? And also, wouldn't stupid boys that want to display their stupidity by texting on their phones or posting something tacky on facebook? Again, this sort of activity seems so low-tech - not something our technologically advanced youth would do.

So I guess the sneakers on the wire in my hood will remain a mystery. If these fools have sneakers to spare, they should donate them to charity or something.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

I just want a cool band-aid

Ya know, as most girls think, I like to think of myself as low maintenance. I don't need many material or physical things to make me happy. The following things are a sampling of things that make me happy.

1. A dog riding in a car with his head out the window.
2. Cool, fresh sheets on the bed.
3. A perfectly ripe and beautiful tomato.
4. Funny or colorful band-aids.

The last one is extremely important y'all. I get my blood drawn every time I go to the doctor (nothing scary - it's just to check my thyroid). My doctor loves tests, and because of his love of tests they take a bunch of blood. Hey, I like information, and if they've already stuck me they can take all the blood they need, leaving me with the blood I need thankyouverymuch.

The phlebotomist that usually sticks me is pretty awesome, but at the end of the transaction I feel very much cheated. She quickly put a cotton ball on the wound, and affixed it with horrible surgical tape....the tape that rips off a layer of skin.

I would dig a Hello Kitty band-aid, or perhaps some rad graphic or zebra stripes, anything is better than the cheapo cotton and tape route.

So yeah....that's really all I have to say.