never fully-clothed or intentionally misinforming

1. I went to Texas, it was amazing, and I will write an entire blog all about it soon. Promises. Promises. 2. When I returned from Texas I made a new friend on my morning commute. I was stopped at a light, and looking straight ahead when it turned green. I noticed the truck next to me didn't move, so I glanced to my left to see a guy in an olive green Nissan Frontier gazing at me, sort of strangely, as I pulled away. Didn't think much of it -- I was rocking out to some music, with windows down and sleep still in my eyes. I'd probably stare at me too. The next morning I saw him again, and he did well keeping up with me and my zippity-doo-dahing down the highway. Until his turn came and we parted ways. That was Tuesday. On Wednesday and Thursday I saw him again. These two days he made sure to keep up, even passed me on an occasion or two. And he waved. So I gave my usual peace sign, and kept right on cruising. This morning I saw him again and he was weird...er. I had just fin

Sometimes I think about the overall awareness of the mortality of humans. We speed down the freeways in bulk-sized metal machines, pumping with fuel and other fire-starters. We tail people, and swerve, neglect our blinkers and side-view mirrors, all the while going 80 plus miles per hour. Thanks to technology, we multi-task like our lives depend on it, when really they depend on NOT doing it. We reach into the back seat, yak on our cell phones, toddle with our GPS devices, eat our breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, we're so unstoppable behind the wheel... so unstoppable and seemingly invincible. Oh, but we aren't. And I wonder at what point does it dawn on a person that in the blink of an eye, their existence can cease. That everything they thought really mattered, everything they thought they had control of -- all their emails, phone calls, their electronic connections to the world outside, all that crap doesn't matter and never has. But what does matter? Who's to say?

If you're at all a fan of fiction, and like a good beach read -- this one's a winner by my vote. Seriously, I don't read often... and don't really feel like I'm missing much, most times (I do look for entertaining things to read, but rarely will something appeal to me). Anyway, Jennifer Weiner (pronounced Wine-er, I'm sure) wrote a great book when she wrote 'Good in Bed.' Can't see how a woman wouldn't enjoy it. It's empowering and funny and makes you feel genuine emotion for a fictional character. If you're looking for a fun read, pick it up. It's got a sequel, but I haven't read it yet. I'll let you know.

I need to make money-money, make money-money. 1. I’m broke. I put my entire savings in my checking account to cover my bills while I was dealing with Traci’s wedding. You all know that already; it’s old news. But now I need to make money. 2. My mom has signed herself up for a community yard sale on August 8. She got a ‘booth,’ which is really just a table under a pavilion, and she’s going to sell the shit out of a bunch her stuff. She also invited me to join her. Well, to help her, but I can also sell stuff. So I’m rounding up a bunch of shi—stuff I don’t want or need anymore. I have an entire bedroom full of stuff at my parents’ house still, plus random-ass knick-a-knacks at my new house. Things I don’t recognize, things I don’t want, things I’ll never miss = all money I could definitely use. 3. I took some head shots of my friend Michelle yesterday for a little extra cash. I’m not going to charge her much because she’s a friend – my dad says that’ll be my biggest downfall. I befriend

Saturday morning I drove to Gainesville to meet my mom and sister so we could take a drive to Crooked River State Park ( Georgia ). We went to a place that we’d taken a vacation to when us kids were much younger. It was pretty freaking cool. Then it started raining and we played in that for about a minute before we ran back to the car. Got home, let L&B out to play, tossed a bunch of random stuff into a beach bag, got back in the car and headed to Clearwater Beach for the rest of the weekend (which actually turned into being just overnight). When I got to the hotel, J.M. was almost done writing (he was working, I came to crash the job). Once he was, it was time for dinner on the beach at Crabby Bill’s and a nice stroll around the Beach Walk. Talk about a lively and beautiful part of the state. Clearwater Beach – highly underrated. And I can gather that even in the darkness of 9 or 10 at night. The n

Let's go over some things on this fine, sparkly Wednesday. 1. I asked my dad if he would be willing to work out a deal with me for his Jeep Wrangler. It's absolutely awesome. Needs some love, no doubt, but nothing I can't handle. His exact words were, "you can have it." I about shit because for months now I've been thinking about what kind of deal I could work out with him to get it and here he just says I can have it. Too cool. On the list of things it needs: new brakes/brake line, new ignition/ignition switch, a thorough washing. The first step to getting it is to call my insurance company to figure out how much it would cost to insure the mother. Most likely more than my Focus, you think? haha. This information will determine if I can even afford to have it. If I can, I'm going to talk to some friends who work on cars for fun. See what they know about Jeeps and their parts. Maybe I can get cheap or even free labor in exchange for food. Boys are like tha

Random Photo Tuesday is becoming a flop. But it shouldn't because I actually have fun writing those blogs... Anyway, I didn't do one this week, because I knew I had this blog to write. Now, in all honesty, if I'd have been less euphoric, I probably could have written this on Tuesday and it could have counted as a RPT blog, but I wasn't. And I didn't. So whatev. By now, if you've got any other affiliation with me (facebook, whatever), you probably know I went to the beach on June 20. But please, allow me to tell you the story. Originally written on 6/25 About a month ago I got a phone call from Gary; it's been about eight months since I last talked to him. Why does that hurt? Because before October of last year, which is when he moved, we were seeing each other four or five times a week -- and spending quality time together, at that. I kept saying I'd make the time to come see him, but I never expected my summer to be as busy as it's been, and I'v