Sandy, Sandy, let me be!

This is Sunshine, reporting to you live from the heart of the storm in Central New Jersey.  We are live-action blogging here, people!

It's a little windy here.  Just sayin'.

Key points that have impressed/shocked me so far:

-Atlantic City boardwalk destroyed in parts.
-Wildwood under water.  (Have you SEEN the beach at Wildwood? It takes an hour to get from the boardwalk to the ocean, no lie.  That is some IMPRESSIVE storm surge.)
-Crane fell off a high rise building in NYC.

Already this has surpassed the damage of Mother Nature from last year. I'll keep you posted throughout the rest of the storm, but for now this is Sunshine, saying good luck and God Speed. or something.

PS thanks Hurricane Sandy for giving me a paid day off - I love you.

What color did you want, sweet heart?

Car shopping.

What a disaster.  Seriously, car salesmen are the most slimey and lecherous creatures on the planet.  (If you're a car salesman and you're reading this, well I'm sorry, and I adore you on a personal level, but you know I'm right.  You're a vulture.)

I recently became in need of a new car.  My little Hyundai went to the big car factory in the sky.  It was a premature goodbye, brought to the light of day when I introduced it to the rear end of an SUV in bumper to bumper traffic, but Hazel had had a good life.  She was trustworthy and lovely, and I am sad to see her go, even though she wasn't what I wanted when I first bought her.  So, since I'm in need of a new car and am a bit more financially stable than I was this time last year when I bought her, I started looking at legit dealers, not those used car dealers where, like in the movie Matilda, they run the odometer backwards and strap some paint and glue on the front end until just about when the warranty runs out.

Needless to say, but I'm going to say it anyway, my adventures with the local car dealers didn't go that well.

The first dealer I managed to shake off, letting him know that I was just looking.  The second dealer, at Toyota, basically insulted me and told me that I might like to look at the more expensive cars he was offering because I "might like the color better."  Please excuse me while I throw up on your shoes, thanks.

The best stop on Saturday had to be at the Hyundai dealer.  My partner in crime for the day, Honey Boo Boo, and I, parked in the back of the lot and tried to sneak in and take a look without being spotted.  We made it around for about five minutes before this man-boy came over and introduced himself and right away I knew I could get over on him. haha. He looked to be about twelve years old, barely prepubescent.

Anyway, so I asked him if he had any preowned cars for sale for ten thousand dollars, because that was my price limit... and he says to me, after pondering for a minute, no we don't have anything for that amount.... so I say okay thank you, and we get ready to leave.  He turns to me and says, "oh, but we have this..." and he brings me to a car that's 10,900.  I just looked at this kid with wondering eyes and he says, "Sorry I'm new."  I said that was okay and I wouldn't give him a hard time, but inside I'm thinking, "you're adorable and you're never going to sell a car."

I wish I knew just a SMIDGEN more about cars so that I didn't feel helpless walking into a car dealership.  Maybe I'll have to do some research.

I wish I had that crazy lesbian gene that enabled me to know a ton about cars, putting things together, and holding in crazy sports facts, all while looking good in cargo shorts and polos.  Yep, that's what I want in my next life.

Definitely a Mad Man with a Blue Box.

                    

           It is a well known fact that yours truly has a tendency to become obsessed with various pop culture related items and ideas.  For example, this year’s obsessions include, but are not limited to: Carly Rae Jepson’s “Call Me, Maybe”, Justin Bieber’s “Boyfriend”, The Big Bang Theory, cinnamon tea, and Burt’s Bees Chapstick.  These aforementioned items have been, at times, the most important part of Sunshine’s day.  (Unfortunately, it’s true, my girlfriend can attest.)
          The latest, and let’s face it, the greatest obsession that I have had in the year 2012 is my new found love for a nine hundred year old alien from a planet that no longer exists, a blue ‘police box’, a piece of metal that ‘hums’ and various human companions, all of which come together to explore, adventure, and ultimately save the world from alien invasion and destruction, all while still managing to keep the suspense and romantic entanglements alive.  Yes, I am in love with Doctor Who.
          I was going to start this paragraph with, “Now, before you mock me, hear me out…” but I’ve realized… my readers are nerds, too.  You’re all going to surprise me with, “I’ve been a Whovian for YEARS!” and “Allons-y!” and “It’s brilliant!” (Except Dr. Cynicism, I’m sure he’s going to laugh at me.)
          I was dead set against watching this show.  When my best friend and I decided to make a small Gentleman’s Agreement, I was torn apart.  I wanted her to fulfill her side of the bargain (which she STILL hasn’t done, some gentleman she is) while letting me out of my end of the deal.  No such luck.  She pressured and practically all out hounded me about my progress with the Doctor, and I kept telling her no, that it was crap.  I was adamant that only science nerds would ever want to watch this ‘garbage’ and also that I didn’t like British humor.  Well, here I am, eating my words. This show is beyond brilliant. I am in awe of the staff and creators who put this Whoniverse together.

          There is, however, a problem.
          I continue to mourn my favorite character! Let me explain.
          The Doctor is a Time Lord; that’s his specie.  He is the last of a race which doesn’t exist anymore. His people, though they can die, have the ability to regenerate themselves as a survival instinct.  This is also a fancy way for the producers to be able to replace the main character of the show without losing much credibility and possibly the fan base, or in this case, the following.  Brilliant, they are. An issue for me is that even though the character is the same, the producers make the storyline blatantly and painfully obvious that you’re really just saying goodbye to the actor.  
           It's really hard to mourn the loss of one person but be completely transfixed by his or her replacement, especially when I am watching them like a crazy person (i.e. back to back, no stopping except for sleep and the occasional shift at work, through all the seasons on my stolen netflix, thanks to my best friend Susie).  I spent roughly 12 hours falling in love with one man (save the bad lesbian jokes for later) only to have him ripped away from me in an instant!  Who cares if the goodbye and farewell was beautiful and tear-jerking?!?! Well, guess what, the-British-equivalent-of-Hollywood, I don’t like saying goodbye to actors that I love!  Christopher Eccleston was a fantastic Doctor.  But here’s another crux – David Tennant, who plays the next Doctor, is fantastic, too!  How can I love two or three people at the same time?
                                             
          There are just too many fantastic people on this show; they’ve got to be breaking some kind of television law – isn’t someone always supposed to be disliked?  I’m pretty sure that it’s become mandatory for everyone on this show to be adored.
          It comes down to this – I’m addicted to Who.  Are you?

Who are you? Do You Have Some I.D.?

I've been neglecting writing -- so much so that I made myself a goal that I would write the whole month of July, and to date I've only written two of the eighteen days and it's been the same scene, just worded differently.  I can't even believe how much I live in my own way.  I am my own worst enemy when it comes to getting things done. Sheesh.  


Anywho, I wanted to post what I've written, because it holds me accountable, and hopefully I still have some blogosphere friends interested in what I'm doing.  If not, well I can't blame you, as I've basically been M.I.A. for far too long.  If you are here... well... I love you. 


**
My heart was pounding.  I could hear the blood flowing through my ears, and my adrenaline was pumping hard.  My breaths became shallow and erratic, my palms started sweating, and I could just imagine that my pupils had dilated.  Can you feel your pupils dilate?  Isn’t that a symptom of someone high? I would have to Google that on my down time.  I was only in the midst of a panic attack, but surely with my luck, my behavior would come across suspect and I’d be taken away.

‘I can’t handle this,’ I thought to myself, struggling to control my breathing.  ‘What am I even going to say?’

As the officer made his way toward the passenger’s side of my car, I quickly ran through all the excuses I could feasibly flesh out to explain my complete and total disregard of the law:
-My dog escaped.
-I have to pee.
-I only sped up to pass someone who was carelessly driving, and that’s when you saw me.
-I unbuckled my seatbelt AFTER you pulled me over, just to get to my registration.
-That wasn’t my cell phone in my hand -- that was my G.P.S.

The feeble attempts that my pathetic brain came up with weren’t even enough to get me out of detention in middle school, let alone something regarding the police.  The cherries of the police car were physically hypnotizing, rotating back and forth like some psychedelic visual morphine designed to calm the wild beast.

“Good evening.  License and registration, please.”

The officer spoke with a tone of command, a tone more fright-inspiring than my father after getting home from work and hearing that one of my brothers had blown up a toilet seat at school earlier in the day.  I promptly handed over my documents and faced straight ahead again, hoping my obedient and submissive behavior would lend to a less severe punishment on my end.

I had to keep reminding myself to take deep breathes; it wouldn’t look good if I started to hyperventilate.  Then I definitely wouldn’t be able to continue on with my plans for the evening.  I’d probably be stuck in jail.  As it was, the officer probably thought I was high, since he’d just asked me a question twice.  Funny how your brain can process that even when it’s not paying attention.

“What brings a girl from New Jersey all the way out here to Marshall’s Creek at this hour?  Surely it isn’t the Candle Factory at this time of night,” he says with a small chuckle to himself, as if he’d just told the most hilarious inside joke all day.  Probably I was the first person he’d seen all night in this little town that modernity seemed to have left behind.

“Honestly,” I said, more under my breath than anything, “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
**
If you made it this far, what do you think? Should I continue?

Womp Womp

This is just a mini-post, Interweblings.

*I saw a TURTLE crossing the road down the street from my house.  A huge turtle.  One of those big ass turtles that you'd see in a documentary.  A police officer was trying to help it off the street with one of those thingamabobs that they wrangle stray or angry dogs with, you know, the pole with the retractable string on the end? Yeah. That happened.

*I was hit on at work by a seventy year old man. (I am gay, and not even remotely interested in 70 year old men. Ever. Ever ever.)  The conversation went as this:

Sunshine:  Is there anything else I can help you with sir?
Creepy: Not unless you're giving out free samples?
Sunshine: Hahaha, (hiding an eye roll) you can take a lollipop, they're free?
Creepy: How about a kiss?

::::gags::::

*Two of my best friends has moved home from Boston, and I couldn't be more thrilled than I am right now.

That is all. More to come, I'm sure. I'll leave you with this now, so you know I'm still amazing:

I made that.

{Happy Birthday Thelma!}

Yum!!

Double Chocolate Pudding Pie!

Bottom Layer:  White Chocolate Pudding
Top Layer:  Regular Chocolate Pudding
Drizzle:  Melted Peanut Butter Chip Drizzle
Chocolate Whipped Cream decoration

All together, Win.

Laters, Baby.

Fifty Shades of Gray.  Ever heard of it? No?  Well, what rock have you been living under, because only a recluse or someone on the run wouldn't have gotten their hands on a copy of this verbose example of fan fiction run amok. 

Honestly, the only reason that I picked up a copy of this book was because everyone, and I mean everyone, that I have talked to in the last three months have ranted and raved about how this book needs to be read.  I finally succumbed to peer pressure and broke down and bought a copy on my Nook.  What I have to say about it is this:  wait for the movie. 

Actually, if you're into erotic fiction, you may want to pick the first book up and help yourself to some fantasy. This book borders on the edge of the line between acceptable fantasy and oh-my-god-my-mother-would-kill-me-if-she-knew-I-owned-this... Well, not my mother.  My mother would be rolling over in her grave trying to get my attention, probably saying something like, "Can you read it to me out loud?" or "There was that one time in college."  (She was a character all her own.)

 I've made it through Fifty Shades of Gray and Fifty Shades Darker, but I had to stop because I had major issues with Ms. Steele's whiny-bitch-attitude.  Everytime I turned the page, there was another scene in which she wondered if he was going to leave her, and while that was a valid question at the beginning of book one, there was no need for it through the end of book two.  I thought that was obvious, but who am I?

The other problem with this is that there were certain times in which I found myself ridiculously turned on by the words on the page, and for me this is a problem.  I am a lesbian, being substantially turned on by a MALE, FICTIONAL character.  I've got friends starting to doubt my sexuality from the comments I've been making.  Heck, *I'm* starting to question my sexuality based on where my errant thoughts have been going this week!  Thank goodness for my girlfriend, Helen, because otherwise I might really be in trouble.  (Helen got a shout out! tee hee hee.)

Anywho. I'm just wondering what you guys out there on the interwebs thought of this series.  Can anyone convince me to bother buying the third on the trilogy?  Is there anything redeeming in Fifty Shades Freed?  I trust you, weblings.  Give me the goods, will ya?!

Laters baby.

Hi, my name is Valerie, and I'm an addict.

No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you – tis I, Sunshine, back from the great beyond (aka, my job, the Land of the Soul-Sucking Old, and adulthood).

I’ve only just managed to break free from the proverbial chains which bind me to my plight.  Who knows how long I’ll have before they notice I’ve escaped, so without further ado, I’d like to present to you an interesting development that I’ve recently discovered about myself during and throughout my adventures.

I am a grocery store junkie.

Honest to blog, I’ve come to realize that I am addicted to the grocery store.  I find myself there at least once a day, whether it’s for food for work, simple necessities that I’ve forgotten during the week, or for a sale that makes me so excited, I feel like Macguiver on Super Market Sweep.
Last week, as I was regaling Helen Keller with my life stories, catching up, what have you, I remembered that there was a sale the day before on Arizona Iced Teas (you know the ones, .99 cents for the large cans that are an excellent deal in and of themselves??). They were on sale 2 for $1 (!!!!!).  I was extremely excited.  I decreed, after we had finished our frozen yogurt, that we needed to venture to the grocery store, so that I might stock up on them while they were so cheap. Who could possibly turn down a BOGO event?!

(Buy one, get one, for those of you who don’t know.)

(She laughed at me and told me that I needed to get out more if this was going to be the highlight of my week, which it was.)

I didn’t realize that I had a problem until Helen laid out for me that I grocery store hop between three different ones in connecting towns. Acme is closest to my house and convenient when I need to get something for home.  Stop & Shop has pistachio muffins that are to die for, and a great salad bar, but is inconvenient to get to when I’m on my lunch break.  Kings Grocery store has a salad bar as well; it’s not as cheap as S&S, but it’s closer, and I’m able to get there on my break and get back in time to actually eat said lunch.  However, the downside to Kings is that a boy asked me out there (in front of his friend, which was awkward) and I turned him down (not so politely, but then again, that wouldn’t be my style) and now I feel a little awkward every time I run in to him, but that’s a story for another day.  I digress.

As if being addicted to grocery stores wasn’t bad enough, I’ve discovered that this disease is HEREDITARY, passed down from the male line.  As far as I can tell, it has only made an appearance in my family’s family tree since my father’s generation, but I’m sure it will run rampant as the branches continue to grow.

Wheel Alignment Bullshit

I'm the kind of person that, when the car is making a weird noise, will turn up the radio and pretend it's not there, until such time as the car explodes or something goes horribly, horribly wrong.

Tee hee hee. ::blushes::

Whatever.

So, I've had a slow leak in one of my tires for a few weeks... months... ummm some time now, and my dad finally made me and I finally decided to buy new tires.  They had a deal, buy three, get one free.  I thought this was great.

I was not prepared for the 64 effing dollar *wheel alignment* that will "prevent your tires from wearing unevenly".

For those of you like me who didn't know, there are 3, count 'em, 3 (!!!) types of alignments (according to tirerack.com, whatever the hell that is) and it effects the suspension and steering systems (duh, like I couldn't guess that one on my own).

COME ON, PEEPS.  WHAT THE EFF IS THAT BULLSHIT ABOUT?

Honestly, what are they going to do, put my tires on crooked?  Wouldn't you think that a wheel alignment would come STANDARD with replacing not one, not two, not three, but ALL the goddamn* tires? Unreal.  My dad I just dropped a significant amount of money, and they have to swindle us out of more.  That is unreal and unfair, and boy if I were someone else, I would have told them off.

I should write a strongly worded letter.
---
*I should probably stop cursing God, because even though my dad got me a pass, I'm sure it can be taken away.

If you want to know what I'm talking about, check out this post right here.

So then I said...

I don't really have a whole lot to update because nothing exciting is going on in my life (which isn't really far from the usual, Peeps, as you loyal followers already know).  However, in the last few days I've had some great conversations (in person as well as via text) and felt I NEEDED to share them with you.

***
Dad: I'm hungry, but it's Lent. Can't eat meat, it's Friday.
Val:  Why do you follow that stupid rule anyway?
Dad: Valerie, it's not stupid.
Val: Your people aren't going to let me into your Heaven, so I'm not following the rules.
Dad: You're going to Heaven.
Val: They don't let my kind in there.
Dad:  I got you a pass. You're going.

***

L: I want to be part of a drag show.
Val:  You already look like a dude.
L:  I know, but it's different.
Val:  How is it different?
L:  Well, they draw mustaches on you, and side burns.
Val: You. Already. Look. Like. A. Dude.  To be part of a drag show, you'd need to wear a dress.
L: I am not wearing a dress; I want to be a drag KING.
Val:  That's like going to a masquerade ball and not wearing a mask!  Idiot.
L:  You just don't understand.
Val:  No, you just don't understand that I'm right.
L: Right.

***

Val: Um, I just got tipsy with my uncle and my sister at a bar.
Susie: Um, can I just tell you that I spilled the blue lava lamp juice on the floor... BFF's mom is going to kill me.
Val: OMG.
Susie:  I know.
(The next day.)
Susie: BFF and I should become professional carpet cleaners.

***
Missvalsunshine, offending the masses since 1985.

Buttercream Wishes and Piggy Bank Dreams

Yep -- You read it right.  This week Val challenged herself to the small endeavor of learning how to Cake Decorate (along with the help, patience, and guidance of her favorite up-and-coming Cake Decorator, Caroline, owner and proprietor of Cakes by Caroline).

I baked them the night before - I was dedicated!

I carted them wrapped in tinfoil across half the state of NJ and into NY State.

Car doesn't fuck around - she's got tools!

I did the grass.  It's not as easy as she made it out to be. 

We ended up with a menagerie of Piggy Bank cupcakes (which may or may not have saved my ass from getting many tickets after being pulled over that day) and everyone thought I bought them at the bakery.

Obviously after we were finished, it was time to get silly with the Icing.

Finally, this is how I carted them home... no judging!

All in all, it was an awesome experience, one I'm super excited to replicate again, and it was with an amazing friend with the patience of a saint. <3

Anyone in the Tri-State area wanting or needing a cake should definitely contact Caroline.  http://www.facebook.com/Cakes.By.Carolinee

My Heart's a Stereo.

I dreamed of you last night.

I knew it was a dream the minute I saw what you were wearing: a Yankees hoodie and a Red Sox baseball hat, and in what reality would that ever happen? 

Right, I thought not.

You huffed and puffed around some train station parking lot on the way to a game, fuming that your sister invited me along, steam billowing out your ears.  My subconscious took a little satisfaction in that, I have to admit. 

Even my sleeping brain knows that I'm missing my friend, and the pleasure I used to take in torturing you relentlessly. 

You asked me, before our friendship finally deteriorated, why I hadn't yet trashed you on my blog, and I gave you an answer.  The truth, though, is not as simple as I had let on, but the context remains the same. 

I love you.  

You're a pain in the ass.  You know it, I know it, and if the rest of the world could know you, they'd know it, too.  I've never had any misgivings about the person you are, and you never changed yourself once from the beginning.  You came as is.

I love you, and I had from the beginning, though it took until after the end to realize what kind of love it truly was.  You were part of my life, maybe not for a long time, but it's quality not quantity, and I have a hole in some kind of part of me that is still empty, because it was one that you used to fill.  Was it romantic love, no not really; I think it was more than that. It was knowing that I had an honest friend, a person who I could count on to listen, cheer me up, and laugh with me. It was having someone share my secrets, understand my weird, random, eccentric thoughts and not judge me on them.  

You decided that it would be easier (for you, I'm assuming, since you didn't really give me any options whatsoever) if we didn't talk anymore.  It killed me. It tore me up inside, because the only person I've wanted to call and talk to is the one who wants nothing to do with me anymore. 

I hope this is turning out just how you wanted.  I'll miss you, and so you know, I've still never let you down.  

Just sayin'.

What the Bleep.

Kids, what the BLEEP is going on around here?


I have been completely out of sorts for the last month, I realize, but that does not give Blogger the right to go around changing their layout and shit.... That's just rude!  I mean, honestly.


I will concede, maybe it's me, but I don't think so.  I did have to break up with Google Chrome becauase it was fucking around on the side.  Everyday A knows exactly what I mean because she dated Google Chrome before me.  You can read about their breakup here. 


Anywho -- I thought that I was going to make some things happen in my life and shake things up a bit, but you know what they say about plans, right? If not, well... if you want to see God laugh, tell him your plans.  Two weeks ago I applied for a more-than-part-time but less-than-full-time position in Peabody, Massachusetts at the bank.  I have pretty much decided that I'm over the tri-state area, and was getting ready to start my life somewhere else.  I went so far as to apply, contact the manager of the branch, and set up a skype interview.  I was pretty much a phone call away from packing up my entire life and moving out on my own, when all of a sudden the new kid up and quit saying he had to "go back to Equador" or something like that...


So... between someone being fired (which sucked bigtime b/c I love her) and the new kid quitting (which I'm not too broken up over)... they had a few hours to smush together and offer me a full time position! HOORAY!  For those of you who have been keeping up with my tragic employment-life this past year, you will know that this is my first full-time job since I was laid off Last April. 


Finally, I am starting to feel like a productive member of society again!  Even better, I don't *have* to work at Mystery, Inc. anymore... I can work there because I CHOOSE to...


::sighs of relief and high fives everywhere:::

Props to me, Peeps... and here's to hoping for more good things to come.

PS. I've missed you guys... Sorry I disappeared for a while... I seemed to have lost myself... but I think I'm finally coming back. <3

Family Secrets

Family Secrets

I came down the stairs covered in sweat and dust bunnies.  Cleaning out the attic is never pleasant, but more unpleasant is when you offer yourself to your grandmother in a moment of familial guilt at the weekly Friday Night Dinner.

 There I was, sitting in at the dining room table after just consuming what some would consider a feast, but my family just considers ‘dinner’, when grandma all of a sudden mentions how she’d like to clean out the attic.  The whole family nodded their heads in agreement, all acknowledging that that would be a great idea.  What I didn’t notice is one by one everyone made excuses in order to get away from the table and out of Grandma’s line of sight.  I was obviously not prepared for this, which is why it’s the next day and I’ve found myself cleaning on a Saturday morning when I’d rather be doing anything else.

The kitchen smelled of chocolate chip pancakes; Grandma’s “I know I suckered you into this project, so I’m at least going to feed you something yummy and hope that you don’t hate me for this.”  I tried to dust myself off a little before I crossed the threshold, but I’m sure it was a futile attempt.  “Grandma,’ I said, as I walked in and sat at the table, clutching an old piece of paper in my left hand, out of her eye line. 

“Yes, dear,” she said as she flipped a pancake on the griddle.  She turned to look at me, since I paused a moment to think about what I wanted to say, rather than blurt out something accusatory and/or stupid.  She prompted me again.  “What is it you wanted?”

“I came across this in map in the attic along with your photo albums from when you and grandpa were first married.  It’s in another language.  Do you understand it?”  I hoped that posing my inquisitions in an innocent way would engage her into telling me the story without actually forcing her to do it.  At first, though, I thought I’d blown it, because she turned back toward the stove, let her head hang down a little, and stayed silent for longer than I was comfortable with.

Just as I was about to say something apologetic and banish myself back to the attic, she started to speak.  It was low at first, almost like she wasn’t speaking to me, but mumbling to herself. I strained to hear her, sure that she wouldn’t continue if I asked her to repeat herself. 

“That map… that ‘treasure’ map,’ she scoffed.  “If I had known what that ‘treasure map’ had in store for us, I might not have married your Grandfather.  You know we found that map on our honeymoon?”  She finally turned to acknowledge that I was still sitting there.  Of course I was still there; I was hanging on her every word.

“What you don’t know is that your Grandfather and I were considered an arranged marriage.  We knew of each other; our families were the best of friends, an extended family of sorts.  Back in Sicily, it was normal to arrange a marriage for a child, to insure that your line would continue and you’d know the sort of people you were getting into bed with, no pun intended.  Our marriage was arranged with the idea that Marcello and I would link the families together to create a stronghold of our properties, intimidate the neighbors, that sort of thing.”

These were the lines said in movies!  Why was my grandmother telling me stories that correlate to the God Father?

“We went to Spain on our honeymoon.  It was so beautiful, but, bella, we didn’t really leave the hotel for two days!  Finally on the third day, I told your grandfather that we needed to go out and do touristy things or I was going to make the first year of our marriage a nightmare.  He didn’t need much more convincing than that, so we went out and took in the sights.  When we came back, there was this map left on the desk in our room.”  She shook her head, like she was trying to clear the clouds that fifty years had given her.

The clock struck eleven and the sound of my grandfather’s truck could be heard pulling in the driveway.  She turned her head toward the front of the house and a hint of a smile curled upon her lips. 

“This is a story for another time, love.  Your grandfather’s home.  Mind you be getting back up stairs, and put that back where you found it, okay?”

I made my way up the stairs wondering just what kind of life my grandmother had lived before we existed.

***
Thanks for reading everyone!

My Indie Ink Challenge Prompt was dilvered to me by Melissa Brodsky.  "You find an old treasure map locked away in your grandparents’ attic."  In turn, I challenged Crosshavenharpist with what she would do after she robbed a bank. 

This is not a post... Again

Peeps...

I have officially survived a year cigarette free!

It still sucks, but HOORAY!

That is all.

All Part of the Plan

"All Part of the Plan"

It was just after dusk and I was cold.  I knew I should be scared, but I couldn’t stop noticing how beautiful the swirling police lights looked as they caught the falling snow.  Have you ever felt that way? Knowing you should be feeling one way, but unable to help yourself from feeling another certain type of way? I’m sure you have.  Haven’t we all?  The officer is going on and on to me about something, but I just can’t focus on his monotone drivel when Mother Nature’s beauty is falling all over the place. The snowflakes aren’t just flecks of frozen water; they’re becoming part of me.  Each one that falls and lands along my skin becomes a link in the armor, the armor I wear to protect me against the cold, hard realism forced upon me by those who haven’t embraced the Earth’s love.  They’re missing out on a beautiful world, a world that they’re blowing right by. 

***
It was just after dusk and I was cold.  Working overtime holds no appeal for me, but my wife enjoys the payout, as most women do.  I’m exhausted, I haven’t had time to breathe, let alone take care of all the human necessities, if you know what I mean.  Do you know what I mean? Have you ever felt that way? 

Here I am, just trying to keep myself straight and keep my life in order for my family, and I’ve got nothing to show for it but being overworked and under paid.  I’m tired, and I’m stuck here babysittin’ this whiteboy, high as a kite, whose ass I’ve got parked on the curb while I wait for back up.  I haven’t had time for a real meal, a shower that lasted longer than four minutes, or some quality time with my wife in God knows how long, though I’m sure she wouldn’t be too receptive to that idea anyway.  Women.  Can’t live with ‘em, ain’t that what they say? Ah, well.

***

It was just after dusk and they were cold.  Unfortunate, really, that they could not see the bigger picture.

Neither of these two understands the ramifications of their actions today, but they are great indeed. 

Here we have a junkie who, had this police officer not stopped him for a moving violation, would have caused a four car accident, killing two children, their parents, and inevitably himself. 

On the other hand, the police officer who, because he put in overtime to support his family, saved a multitude of lives, just by doing the right thing.  Good, too, because it will help him reinforce the promotion coming to him at the end of the month.

Look at the beauty in the world.  Look at all I have created.  The good and the bad, each working in tandem to create a working masterpiece that anyone would be proud to be a part of. 

This is my second week back in the Indie Ink Challege! Yay!

This week my prompt was "I know I should be scared, but I couldn't stop noticing how beautiful the swirling police lights looked as they caught the falling snow", issued by Kurt at Muzzle Diaries.  I was fortunate enough to challenge the wonderful Hannah Pratt at The Oh So Unusual Housewife, who really nailed it with a beautiful poem.  Check them both out!