Vacation Trip (Expanded)

We left for Pigeon Forge, TN on Saturday morning; we wanted to go on Friday, but the wife couldn’t get the day off. As it happens, it’s probably a good thing because we would have spent another night in a terrible hotel. We did have a really good time on the trip, but this was truly one of the worst hotel experiences I’ve had. And it’s not just me being negative; I talked to a few of my fellow lodgers and all of them had the same problems we did. I made the mistake of booking a room based solely on price and didn’t read the reviews that would have steered me away from it.

(I won’t go into the details about how bad the hotel was, but if you’re going to make a trip to PF in the near future and want a full review, email me privately.)

I won’t go into a detailed account of the whole trip (I started to, but it was getting boring even to me) but I do want to hit some of the highlights. There wasn’t a lot of traffic on the interstate, but we did pass the occasional truck. I jokingly dared the wife to flash a trucker as we drove by, and (as I expected) she flat out said ‘No!’ A few minutes later as we approached another truck, I again dared her to flash the driver, saying that he’d been on the road a long time and would appreciate a little something to get his blood going.

Of course she said ‘no’ again, but she kind of laughed and didn’t act annoyed by me asking so I figured I could get away with it a little longer. As we drove I told her (quite honestly) that I liked the thought of showing her off to others. I didn’t say that I also like the thought of her loosening up a little and getting a little wild (but in a safe way) but that’s the biggest draw for me.

As we approached the next truck, I again suggested flashing the driver, and this time she said “What do I get for it?” I offered to let her get a box of baseball cards she gets every once in a while (they’re $20) and she said she’d have to get at least two boxes. We started negotiating and continued even after passing the truck in question (I figured there would be a lot more so didn’t panic.) I was so horny just at the fact that she was negotiating! (The truth is, and I think she knows this, as long as we have the money she can get baseball cards pretty much whenever she wants.)

We passed two more trucks while we talked about what she would get if she flashed them, and I was getting more and more excited. Finally, when no other vehicle was near, she said “I’ll flash you, but not anybody else.” And with that, she pulled up her shirt and bra and let me play with them for a few seconds. Her nipples were pretty hard, so I think the idea excited her too.

We finally got to the room and settled back to relax before heading out to a ball game. I thought I’d take a nap, but the wife subtly let me know she had other ideas by pulling down my underwear and taking me in her mouth. I was still horny from earlier, and within just a few seconds I was rock hard! I told her I was close and wanted to fuck, but she kept sucking and licking me. She had a towel at the ready, so I expected her to bring me to the edge then catch my cum in it, but when I groaned she kept going and allowed me the rare “cum in mouth” experience!

Later, we went to the ballgame and had a pretty good time. She got all the autographs she needed and it was her suggestion to leave early (about 8) so we could get some dinner. By the time we got back to the room, we were both tired and a little buzzed (she had a drink at dinner, and we picked up some beer to have in the room) so we fell asleep.

Sunday we were planning to go to Dollywood, the big theme park they have there. However, we decided Saturday night to save the money we’d spend there and see some of the other sites. We definitely made the right decision, because we spent the day in Gatlinburg without being on any particular schedule. We took advantage of the “park and ride” so that we wouldn’t have to fight for parking, and so that we could both enjoy the wine and moonshine tasting. Between the tastings and having a daiquiri at lunch, we kept a good buzz going for most of the day as we walked and shopped but it still had worn off by the time we got back to the car that afternoon.

We went to the hotel to unwind a bit, and I thought we’d have sex but we were both too worn out. We had a short nap before heading out to see some more of the PF sites and grab a late dinner. We planned to get an early start home the next day because our local baseball team had a day game she wanted to go to, so we went back to the hotel relatively early (around 10:30.) She was asleep by 11:00, and I stayed up reading for another 20 minutes or so.

We were on the road by 7 a.m. Monday, and got ahead of all the traffic heading out. Once on the interstate, I brought up the idea of flashing a trucker again, and again we talked about what she would get for it. We never reached an actual agreement, so I let the matter drop. We passed a few trucks, and each time as we approached I was hoping she’d just say “fuck it” and whip them out. I think she knew this, because each time she’d shift around or make some kind of movement, but she never did anything.

Finally, again when there weren’t any other vehicles near, she flashed me and let me play with her boobs a few seconds before putting them away. She repeated what she’d said Saturday, that she would flash me but not anybody else. Knowing the kind of person she is, and how shy she can be, I doubt it would ever happen. But I’ll keep asking on longish trips when we’re well away from home, and maybe someday she’ll surprise me.

So  we had a good vacation, and a great time together. When we were at lunch on Sunday I said something sweet and loving about spending time with her, and she cried a little (keep in mind we were both rocking a good buzz at this point, though.) We ate too much, and spent too much money, but it was worth it and hopefully we can do it again soon.

Weekend Update (Short Version)

We're back safe and sound. We had a really good trip to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee; we left early Saturday morning and got back yesterday around 10:30 a.m.

I'll fill in more details later.

Joke of the Week

I'm a little late (a day) on getting the Joke of the Week up because I was off work yesterday and was getting ready for a trip out of town the wife and I are going on this weekend. I'll update sometime Monday afternoon when we get back, or Tuesday morning.

I read the bones of this joke last night in one of Terry Pratchett's Discworld books, and I'm fleshing it out here a little to give it context.

A farmer was walking his milk cow back from market when it fell ill; it simply lay down in the road and wouldn't move. The farmer was beside himself, because the cow was not only his sole source of income (meager as it was) but had been around so long she was almost like part of the family.

There was no veterinarian in the village, but there was a witch, and she was known to be a fair healer when the mood struck her. She could also be a fair terror when the mood struck her, and it seemed to the farmer there were more of the latter moods striking her than the former. Still, he had no choice, so reluctantly he made the trip to the witch's cottage.

The woods were dark and eerie as he approached and nervously raised his hand to bang on the door. Before he could the door was flung open, and the witch was there scowling at him.

"I know why you're here, Zeke," the witch cackled. "Your Bessie is gone up sick, ain't she?"

"Y..yes, Grannie," stammered Zeke. "I was hoping..."

"I have just the thing," she said, her scowl softening. "Wait here." She closed the door and a few minutes later opened it again and handed him two large, orange pills.

"Get behind Bessie," she ordered, "and lift her tail. Then stick one of these pills where the sun don't shine. In a minute she'll be up and running, right enough. She'll run all night, I s'spect."

"Thank you, Grannie," Zeke beamed. "But what's the other pill for?"

"I reckon you'll want to catch her, won't you?"

Small Update

Things are starting to get back into the same rut. It seems the majority of the wife’s attention is on baseball, either with the local games or (when they aren’t in town) following them online and monitoring other games. I suppose we’ll need to have another talk about it, but honestly I don’t know if it’s worth the effort. It just feels like we’re saying the same things over and over and it gets a little better for a time but then soon enough we’re right back where we were.

As I think it through, I’m not really sure what I’m complaining about anymore. I really don’t mind her going to the games; she enjoys them and I have a little time to myself. If I weren’t so apathetic about everything, I could use that time to get out and do things, but mainly I just stay home and read. At least this year I have the gym, which I still try to stay steady and consistent with. We go together when she doesn’t have a game to go to, and when she does I try to get over there on my own. But other than the gym, I really just don’t have motivation to do anything else.

I complain about how much time and energy she devotes to baseball, but why does that bother me? I know I’ve said before something along the lines of “If she would put half the work into ‘us’ as she does into baseball…” but the truth is I couldn’t stand a tenth of that focus. If she dropped baseball tomorrow I certainly wouldn’t be able to absorb the energy, and I suspect that I’d be just as resentful of any other hobby she picked up to replace it.

After some little reflection, I think I’m jealous of her ability to be so immersed in a hobby and maintain the passion and joy for it. I’ve never been able to do that because I lose interest so quickly in things. I used to play golf; poorly, but I enjoyed it. When I had time and money, I’d go to the driving range three or four times a week, and try to get on the course at least once every week or two. Then, almost overnight, nothing; I lost complete interest in it. I tried going to the driving range a few times to see if the spark could be rekindled but it never was. It was the same with computers, bowling, music, etc.; all things I deeply loved doing until one day, nothing.

So I’m going to try criticizing her baseball hobby less. Despite occasionally going overboard with it, she’s really not hurting anybody, least of all me. I wish I could enjoy it with her, because I know she’d love that, but I simply can’t. But I can allow her to enjoy it without trying to make her feel guilty about it.

Weekend Update

Happy Monday, everyone; I hope you all had good weekends.

I’ve pretty much given up on having anything exciting or interesting to say anymore, especially after a weekend. I don’t feel much like going out when it’s just the wife and I, and after a number of failed attempts to get together with other people, I’m done with trying. I understand people are busy, but I can only make so much unreciprocated effort before I say “fuck it” and stop trying. If any of our “friends” (including L) want to spend time with us, they’ll damn well have to be the ones asking us to get together. If they don’t want to spend time with us, then we don’t need them around anyway.

There were no games at home this weekend, so it was just the wife and I staying in and… well, the usual. We had sex Saturday afternoon after a short nap (yes, we like our naps on Saturdays when we can get them) and made some plans for a short trip next weekend. She followed some games on her computer while I read and the TV was on in the background.

Saturday night I made some bets on the Preakness and actually won one of them! In total, between the wife and me, we had $30 worth of bets; $20 for me to box 5 horses on an Exacta (each bet was only $1) and the wife had some other bets. I hit on one of the Exactas and won all of $9.10. It’s great to win, but I hate to win and still have lost money.

Leading up to the actual race we had a nice salad for dinner, and I made us some steaks and corn on the cob. I was going to grill the steaks, but by Saturday evening it was cool, windy, and dreary looking outside and I just didn’t feel like getting the grill out. But I’ve discovered over the past year that a hot cast-iron skillet does a pretty good job with steaks too. The grill is better, in my opinion, but the skillet will do in a pinch.

I did yard work on Sunday, and we went for a little drive and picked up some dinner at a deli we like. By the time we left it was getting cool, so we headed on home. We had some wine (and a beer later) and went to bed early.

Joke of the Week

This is an old joke and I've heard several variations over the years, but it always makes me laugh.

A little old lady goes to the bank with $10,000 in cash and says that she would like to deposit it into an account. The male banker asks her where in the world she got $10,000. "Oh, I'm just really good at making bets," says the old lady.

"Really, you made all this money from betting?" asks the banker.

"Yep," said the old lady. "I'll make a bet with you just to prove it. I will bet you $5,000 that your balls are square."

The banker laughs nervously, embarrassed by the impropriety displayed by the old woman. "No ma'am, my... uh, testicles are not square."

"Oh yes, I bet you your balls are square. Tell you what, I'll leave and come back tomorrow after you've had time to go home and check for yourself."

The banker thinks to himself that this woman is clearly nuts, but thinks this is quite an easy way to make $5,000 since he is certain his balls are not square.

The next day the old woman shows up with another man, who she explains is a lawyer who will verify the outcome of the bet. The banker agrees to this, knowing he can't possibly lose.

"Okay, sonny, drop your pants and I'll inspect your balls," says the old woman. The banker does this and the old woman closely examines the banker's balls.

"Well, it looks like you were right, they are not square!" says the old woman, and counts out $5000 cash. As she does this, the lawyer starts crying.

"What's with him?" The banker asks.

"Oh, I bet him $20,000 I'd have your pants down and your balls in my hands by the time we left."

FFF - 5-16-14 - Second Thoughts

Word Count:    275

Bonus Words:  Tell us about her high school

Required Phrase:    Not Now Mom!!!

Forbidden Word:    Wedding 

Extra Credit:
Don't take the obvious route for the week.

It didn’t take long for regret to sink in. “Marry in haste; repent in leisure.” Jasmine heard the words as clearly as if her mother were sitting beside her. Even in death the woman was a first-class nag.

“Not now mom!” she muttered. Jasmine needed to think, but she knew she couldn’t remain in the guest room she’d run to in her panic much longer. Mark (“My husband!” she thought, incredulously) would start looking soon, and eventually he’d find her; it would go better if she went to him.

She shivered as the cool air caressed her naked skin. She wasn’t exactly sure why she’d suddenly grown so frightened when he helped her out of her dress, but the imperative to run was too strong to resist. She’d only dated Mark for two months when he asked her to be his bride, and she’d readily, giddily agreed. Looking back now, it was like she’d been under a spell...

“Oh, fuck!” Jasmine gasped. Of course it was a spell! There was no other explanation for everything that had happened; agreeing to go out with a man who, only a week earlier, she’d found loathsome; tossing Jake, her high school sweetheart, aside like so much garbage; systematically turning from her friends and family as they questioned her erratic behavior.

But what had broken the spell? She thought back over the day to pinpoint when everything had changed, when her eyes had opened. It wasn’t when the dress first came off; she’d been feeling strange for at least several moments before that.

Then it dawned on her; the necklace Mark gave her on their first date! It was some fancy-dress affair, and he’d “loaned” her a beautiful, black diamond necklace. Looking back, she recognized that moment as when she’d fallen helplessly in love with him. When he took it off her, the spell was broken. So then why did he take it off, knowing that she would no longer be enthralled? He must not have known; he must have assumed the spell would hold even without the necklace. Unless…

Unless he wanted the spell broken, so Jasmine would know exactly what she’d gotten herself into. He’d once told her “I feed off the despair of others!” At the time she thought that was just a metaphor, and a half-joking one at that. Now the frightening realization was donning on her that he might have been completely literal.

“Jasmine, my sweet,” Mark called from the master bedroom. Jasmine shivered, and wondered why she’d never noticed how greasy and reptilian his voice was. “Do hurry back, love. I’m anxious to consummate our… union!”

Oops, I was a little late getting my story up this week, but here it is. I'm not entirely happy with how this turned out; it's the story I had in my head as I wrote it, but I couldn't get the right tone. And I'm way over the word count, but I'm not sorry so there!

Now get over to Advizor's site and read all the other great, sexy entries!

Weekend Update

Happy Monday, everyone. My weekend was much the same as always; the wife went to baseball games while I stayed home and smoked a cigar, read, and drank. A good friend was in from out of town, and Friday he and I got together for dinner. Others were supposed to show up but they all bailed. He and I had a great time catching up and talking (mostly about music.)

Also I got some yard work done, and started a little on the project to patch up my driveway. As it happens, I don’t think I used to right patching material for what I have, but I’ll let it set a week or so and see how it works. I really just need to pull the trigger on having the whole driveway redone, but I don’t have the money for that right now. (I’m assuming I don’t, anyway; I haven’t really looked into how much it would cost.)

If you’re into football, this was a big weekend as the NFL had its annual draft. The only team I really care about is the Dallas Cowboys, and I’d say their draft was a little above average. They picked up some defensive help, which they sorely need, and shored up the offensive line. I still don’t see us in the playoffs this year, but that’s because I’m a cynic when it comes to… okay, just about everything but especially about the Cowboys.

If you’re into equality this year’s draft was big for another reason; Michael Sam was drafted in the 7th round (249th overall) by the St. Louis Rams. He was four or five spots away from being “Mr. Irrelevant” (the actual title given to the last person drafted every year.) So what makes him so special when I couldn’t tell you the names of anybody else drafted in the 7thround, including the five guys my own team picked? Sam is the first openly gay player to be drafted in the NFL.

Several months ago, Sam came out as gay prior to the start of the combines and other events college players go through before the draft. Some say it was a publicity stunt, designed to raise his draft status (and therefore earn him more money.) He was projected to be a fourth rounder, give or take, and as a good-but-not-great defensive end probably couldn’t have expected any kind of publicity to move him more than a few spots. If he just wanted to draw attention to himself, though, it certainly worked. If he washes out of the NFL (which is always possible, even for players who are expected to succeed) the publicity could pave the way for a lucrative career as a sports analyst.

Others say he was brave for coming out, as it could have (and probably did) negatively affected his draft status. I don’t think he was necessarily brave for declaring himself gay, though I do applaud him for doing it. It was more smart than brave; many of his teammates in Missouri knew he was gay (and he formally came out to them last August, before the season had started; now THAT’S bravery), so it made sense for Sam to make the announcement himself instead of waiting for it to come out from others, as it inevitably would have.

His falling to the seventh round isn’t terribly surprising, despite his projection as a fourth rounder. There were some questions about his size, and his skillset is more in line with a 4-3 defense, and even then likely as a backup at first. But there’s no doubt he dropped at least in part because of his coming out ; teams won’t say it publicly, but few want the distraction of a spotlight shining on an otherwise “in the trenches” kind of player who may well not make the cut. The Rams will be second guessed no matter what they do at this point; if they cut him, many will say they kept a lesser player and cut Sam because he’s gay. If they keep him, many will say they cut a better player to make room for Sam only because he’s gay.

Sam probably won’t be a star player, nor will he be a total washout; he’s more likely destined to be a solid, reliable backup who gets work when the starter needs a breather or gets injured. A guy like that can expect to make a few million over an average career span of five years (barring injury) and maybe shuffling around to a few different teams along the way, but remain in relative obscurity.

I’ve seen a number of comments online from people who claim that they don’t care that he’s a homosexual (which means they obviously do care) but resent all the attention he’s getting “just because he’s gay.” It’s a fair point; outside of his being openly gay, there is nothing (as yet) remarkable about Sam as a player. But he deserves the attention he’s getting and any benefits that comes from it.

There are certainly gay players in the NFL now, but they remain closeted out of fear of what it would mean for their careers (among other reasons). But there will be a time when an NFL player’s sexuality is no more noteworthy than their hair color, and that will be good for society as a whole. Acceptance of homosexual players in sports will lead to acceptance of homosexuals in general.

That level of acceptance is still likely several years away, but Michael Sam, who may ultimately have no lasting impact on the NFL as a player, has probably ensured that it will happen sooner than it otherwise would have. I could only ever dream to have that kind of impact in my life! So yes, no matter how mediocre (or worse) a player Sam may be, he deserves the attention.

Joke of the Week

Before the joke, I just wanted to give a quick update on the kittens: all five survived and are eating and playing and being kittens! And while that’s wonderful news (and much better than I was led to believe it would be earlier this week) it was also strongly hinted that, since they will need homes soon, I should adopt one of them. Uh… no! Still not a cat person, here.

Besides, while the boy dog may grudgingly look the other way and pretend a cat doesn’t exist, the girl dog would think it’s a new chew toy. Chew toys don’t have a good track record when it comes to things like surviving a day with the girl dog. “It used to squeak but it don’t squeak no more! Where’s the squeak?”

Now, on to the joke (it’s been around awhile, but still funny):

St. Peter is doing his daily duties at the Pearly Gates when the need for a bathroom break comes on. He looks around and sees Jesus walking by, and asks him if he can fill in for him.

“I’ll be glad to, Pete!” Jesus says. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

“Oh, it’s dead simple,” Peter explains. “When someone comes up to the gates, ask them about their background and what was important to them in life. Then based on the response, you decide if that person deserves to come into Heaven or not.”

“That sounds easy enough.”

Peter hurries off to find the facilities and Jesus eagerly awaits his first customer. Soon enough, an old man appears and greets Jesus. Jesus starts questioning the man about his life on Earth.

“I was a carpenter for most of my life,” the man says. “I didn’t have much except for my son.”

 “A son, you say? Tell me about your relationship with him.”

“Well, he wasn’t technically my son, but I loved him and raised him as my own. And truthfully, he wasn’t entirely human.”

This piqued Jesus’ attention; it was starting to sound strangely familiar. “How do you mean he wasn’t entirely human?”

“There is some question about how he came into the world and what his purpose was. I think he was supposed to learn what it means to be a man, and to bring love and understanding.”

Now Jesus was almost certain who the old man was, but needed one last piece of confirmation. “Tell me, did your son have any distinguishing features?”

“Oh, certainly,” the man replied. “He had holes in his hands and feet.”

With a tears streaming down his eyes, Jesus hoarsely whispered “Father?”

The old man started crying too, and whispered “Pinochio?”

Hey Look, a Soapbox!

On my way home yesterday evening, I was passing (at the posted speed limit) a semi on the interstate that, inexplicably and without warning, decided to move into my lane. As scary as that would have been in my Pathfinder, it was downright terrifying on my motorcycle! Fortunately I’ve come to expect these things (especially from truck drivers) and had time to slow down (while applying a judicious amount of horn and middle finger) and get behind the truck before anything bad could happen. When the driver finally noticed me, he swung back to the right and waved his apology to me. That made me feel LOTS better, asshole!

 

Ironically, this happened less than a mile past a highway warning sign flashing “May is Motorcycle Awareness Month – Share the Road”. (That IS an example of irony, isn’t it?)

 

Off the road, I’m sure individual truck drivers are just regular Joes (and Janes). In my experience, it’s a different story entirely once they’re in their trucks and on the road. As much as I hope the driver from yesterday contracts a nasty stomach virus and shits his pants every 15 minutes, at least he finally noticed me and acknowledged that he fucked up. Most of the time truck drivers just do whatever the hell they want without any regard, or seemingly any notice, of other vehicles.

 

Not that the “regular” vehicle drivers are any better; last week when the wife and I were riding, within five miles two different drivers tried to come into our lane with us right beside them. We weren’t in their blind spots, and were in fact in the process of passing both, and in both cases the drivers failed to give any indication that they were coming over or looking around properly before they did. So no, it’s not JUST truckers, but they are the ones who scare me the most.

 

Motorcycle riders understand that we are responsible for our own safety while riding, and we have to pay attention to everything and everyone around us. There’s no room for daydreaming when you’re only on two wheels. Of course there’s really no room for that on four wheels, but zoning out on four wheels likely means a fender bender; on two wheels it can kill you.

 

Wearing helmets and not driving drunk are no brainers, of course. Or they should be; I’m constantly amazed how common it is at motorcycle events like poker runs or other gatherings to see riders throwing back drinks left and right. Just about every rider I know has a story about a wreck they’ve had, and very few of them start “I was stone-cold sober one night when…” Of course it can happen; even sober riders have to deal with the other idiots on the road. I’ve had some close calls on my bike and none of them involved alcohol (because I don’t drink when I’m on the bike.) Any of those close calls could have been accidents had my reflexes been slower for any reason; alcohol isn’t necessary for a driver to make mistakes (or fail to react properly to other drivers’ mistakes), but mistakes seem to be a lot more common when alcohol is involved.

 

Now that the weather is getting nicer, there are more bikes (with and without motors) on the road. It’s easy to overlook us when you’re used to looking for cars and trucks, and when you do see us it’s harder to gauge our distance from you and our speed. A mistake that might normally be just a fender bender can become much worse for a biker, so please take the time to look a little bit closer.

Weekend Update

Happy Monday everyone, and if you celebrate it, happy Cinco de Mayo! Thanks to everyone for your comments on last week’s post about the kittens; I hope everyone knows I was kidding about the “hero” thing, though. The real hero is V, as far as I’m concerned. By the way, I spoke to her this morning and she said they’ll get updates here and there on the kittens and will pass them on to me, which means I’ll most likely pass them on here. Word of warning, though: she said the lady who took them said two of the kittens are extremely week; brace yourselves.

It was a moderately busy weekend; we went to see my parents and did our shopping chores. The wife had a haircut appointment, and while she was doing that I mowed the lawn. Afterwards we went riding while we looked for some things she needed/wanted. When we got home I started on dinner; I grilled us a couple of steaks and for the first time I baked potatoes and cooked corn on the grill. The potatoes could have used another five minutes, and the corn maybe another minute or two, but the steaks were absolutely perfect! I usually do okay with grilling steaks, but these were by far my best effort.

Sunday I started a project that I’ve needed to do for the past two or three years. Our driveway has cracks, some of them pretty darn big, and one area where the wife has to get in the mud to park so I can get my Pathfinder out in the mornings. I dug out the grass and a little of the dirt from that area and filled it with concrete, and later we’ll put some driveway patch there and the other cracked areas. Then in a few weeks I’ll get some driveway sealer and seal the whole mess up, and hopefully be done with it for a year or so.

I don’t really go out of my way to celebrate Cinco de Mayo; I’m not a Mexican, and the battle they won that day didn’t really have any overall effect on the war with France, which Mexico lost. But I’m not opposed to getting good deals at Mexican restaurants in America that capitalize on American’s who otherwise wouldn’t care about May 5th but who like getting good deals at Mexican restaurants. Since the wife is going to a game tonight (if it doesn’t rain), we decided to go to our favorite Mexican place yesterday for dinner. And despite the fairly high winds, we decided to go on the bike. Dinner was great, and the ride afterwards was really nice.

That was my weekend; how was yours?

By the way, my buddy Simplicity is starting her new job today; if you get time, go on over and wish her well. http://simplensexy.blogspot.com/2014/04/highs-and-lows.html

Hero is too Strong a Word (Probably)

Wednesday morning I happened to see a cat coming out from the bushes right in front of the main entrance here at work. I didn’t think much of it, but I did notice it looked scrawny and (now that I think about it) moved like its back leg was injured. It went down towards the back parking lot which abuts a wooded area.

Thursday morning, one of my co-workers was coming in the front door and stopped to look at something on the sidewalk. From where I was sitting, I couldn’t figure out what it was until I got up and went to look; it was a kitten, probably a day old at best (its eyes weren’t even open) crawling around and mewling its little head off! I looked back in the bushes where I’d seen what I now knew to be the momma coming from the day before, and sure enough there was a little litter of kittens. Five total, including the little guy on the walk.

I picked up the wayward kitty and put it with its siblings, then called the county animal rescue. The guy I spoke to told me they don’t pick up cats (which is the same policy as the county where I live) and said it would be best just to leave the kittens alone; momma would come back and take care of them. By now I suspected momma was long gone, but hoped that I was wrong.

A female coworker (V) heard about them and came up to look. She said she would bring some food up later and try to get the momma to stick around the kittens until she could round them all up together and take them to Angels of Assisi or another organization around here. I told her I’d keep an eye out and let her know if I saw the momma come around, but by the end of the day I hadn’t seen a trace of her.

Friday morning (today) V came up to the front desk and asked if I’d seen any hint that the momma had been by. I hadn’t thought to look yet (I’d just gotten in myself) so we went out to see what we could see. V had put the kittens in a small box with some foam to try to help them stay warm, and put food and water out. The food was gone, but the little kittens didn’t look like they’d been cared for at all. In fact, we couldn’t even see any signs of life in them at all, at first.

I reached into the bushes and shook the box lightly, which got a small response from one of the kittens, but it wasn’t looking good for the others. V went into the bush from behind and tried to get to the box, and was able to pick up one of the kittens that were moving. She said it was ice cold and stiff, and would be dead soon. She couldn’t get to the box with the one kitten in her hand and she was reluctant to put it down knowing they needed warmth. She got out of the way and I went in pushing and shoving heavy, sharp branches out of the way (whimper) and finally got the box out.

Two more were moving, so V told me to put them in her arms so she could keep them warm. At first the other two appeared to be dead as they didn’t move at all, and rolled around stiffly when I move the box. But first one, then the other, started moving. All five were like little blocks of ice, but eventually we got them inside the warehouse and wrapped in some warm towels. I’m not much of a cat person, but I hate seeing helpless animals suffering.

V’s partner drove out here and got the kittens, saying she’d take them to a clinic in town to at least get them looked at and maybe fed. Later I got an email from V saying the kittens were in good hands, and had a new momma and new brothers and sisters. A happy ending to start the weekend!

Joke of the Week

The taxation office suspected a fishing boat owner wasn't paying proper wages to his deckhand and sent an auditor to investigate him.

Auditor: "I need a list of your employees and how much you pay them."

Boat Owner: "Well, there's Clarence, my deckhand; he's been with me for 3 years. I pay him $1,000 a week plus free room and board. Then there's the mentally challenged guy. He works about 18 hours every day and does about 90% of the work around here. He makes about $10 per week, pays his own room and board, and I buy him a bottle Vodka and a dozen PBRs every Saturday night so he can cope with life. He also gets to sleep with my wife occasionally."

Auditor: "That's the guy I want to talk to - the mentally challenged one."

Boat Owner: "That'll be me. What do you want to know?"

As a former business owner (co-owner) I can attest to the wages and the mentally challenged part.

I have one more quick joke; I read this one this morning and thought it was cute.

Two deer walk out of a bar after a long night.

"Girl, that was insane!" exclaimed the first deer.

"I know!" agreed the second deer. "I must have blown 40 bucks!"

A Memory

My oldest  sister would have been 53 on Tuesday. I've tried several times since her death in December to eulogize her in some, but I've not really been able to. Our relationship was a strained; we'd go many months without talking or seeing each other, despite living only a mile or two apart. Then she would call or message me, asking if I was mad at her and why hadn't I called or anything. I'd remind her that the last time we talked she told me she didn't want to have anything to do with me, and that when I (or anyone else) did try to call she wouldn't answer her phone or return messages. I once told her she was more like L than she'd ever know, and she didn't talk to me for another three or four months.

So it's hard to write about someone like that, especially once they're gone. I could talk about all the bad times, and how I suspect she was bi-polar, and she certainly suffered from depression. But though those aspects came to dominate her personality in the later years, that's not the full story. Yes, she had her dark times; and let me tell you, her dark times made my dark times look like a festival of lights! But there were times when she would work her way up from the depths, and she could be a wonderful person.

When she left her first husband, she came to stay with us for several months. She'd left her husband for another guy, of course, but she couldn't be with him at first, and though the wife and I were concerned about how it would go with her staying with us, we welcomed her. And you know, she was mostly fun to be around! She and I would laugh our asses off together about silly things while the wife just shook her head. She had her moments when she was staying with us where things just overwhelmed her, and she'd be upset about things, but she stayed in good spirits for the most part and was never bitchy with us.

I could write volume after boring volume about her, and how she'd be nice and sweet one moment and be psycho-bitch from hell the next seven months... actually, I can't. I've been trying for the past four months and keep deleting everything because it just gets too jumbled up. I loved my sister, but she was hard to like sometimes, and that's really all that you have to know. But I do want to share one story about her, and it's the one I remember most when I think of her.

Back in the mid 90s, I'd quit my cable installation job (the first one I took after getting out of the Army) and tried my hand at sales. As it happens, I'm terrible at sales, but it took almost a year of trying various jobs before I threw in the towel and decided to get back into the real working world. (No offense to any sales people who are reading.)

It was almost two months before I even got a call for an interview, and I was starting to get desperate. I couldn't even get unemployment, because my sales jobs had been "contractor" based and I'd voluntarily left my last job. When I finally did get an interview, the first person I told was my sister. (The wife was at work so I couldn't tell her until later.)

She asked what I was going to wear, and I told her my only suit still fit (I was much thinner then, my last sales job having involved lots of walking every day) and had been cleaned since the last time I'd worn it. She said good, and was I going to get a haircut, because she'd seen me the previous weekend and it was getting pretty shabby. I told her it wasn't that bad, and I didn't have the extra money for it at the moment. Without any hesitation, she said "Get over here right now; I'm going to give you $20 and you're going to get your hair cut!"

It might not sound like much, but it meant the world to me. She and her then husband didn't have much either, but she gave me what she had to help me out. I wound up not getting the job; the guy actually told me he felt like the job required someone with an edge to them, and I looked too clean cut and acted too normal. It turned out that it would have been another type of sales job, so I was just as well off. A week later I started a temporary assignment that became a full-time position, and was a much better fit than the other job would have been.