This morning I found that someone had urinated on the back end of my car, starting on the Obama sticker and dripping down the back. Nice. I thought I’d get shot at first.
My daughter says cars follow her more closely, right on her back end, as she drives around town.
I expect this in Wyoming. And I knew this kind of thing would happen when I put in on. But I am curious as to how far these close-minded republicans who don’t even bother to watch the news will go.
I killed my cord last week and was hoping that it would magically come back to life, but NO. It survived a bunny chewing. It lived through wreckless use by teenagers. And it DIED in my yogurt, when I dropped the computer end of it in a bowl of yogurt while it was plugged into the wall. It’s a good thing my yogurt wasn’t electrified and didn’t come back to life as a cow.
My idiot daughter cut the screen out of her bedroom window and continues to tell me that someone else did it and she doesn’t know what happened, even when I took two knives off the inside of her windowsill. But that isn’t the most ridiculous part. The insanity of it all is that our cat, Lola the tiny Siamese, jumped out and a woman two houses down the street (not 75 feet away!) found her in her driveway and took her inside! Then she took her to the animal shelter after a few hours. Which was closed. A $20 fine for staying overnight, a required rabies shot, and a dog catcher who said he’ll let my daughter off this time as far as a city fine (I sent her to get the cat). I found out that cats are not allowed to be outside in this town except on their owner’s property or they can be picked up by the dog catcher as an “animal at large.”
Sec. 4-6. Animals at large.
Any animal off the premises of the owner, and not under the control of and on
leash held by the owner or a member of the owner’s immediate family or other
authorized person, or temporarily tethered by leash in an area open to the public.
No where does it say that a neighbor can pick up your cat and take it in. She wasn’t starving. It wasn’t 20 below. We all walked around calling her, while she was inside the neighbor’s house!
And then there was the confession by the child about how every time she eats Airhead Xtremes she shits green. So I shared with her that I get the same effect from Fruit Loops. And then I realized how often we talk about bodily functions. All the time.
I don’t know if I’ve ever put someone’s website on my blog before but I love what this woman makes, even though some of it is a little cowgirl for my hippie taste:
I asked her permission today to add a link to my blog and to borrow some of her pictures so you can see what she makes. She also has a shop on ETSY:
These are just three of the many pieces she has listed and there are new pictures coming soon. You can also find her page on facebook by searching for Lindalouwesternjewelry.
She’s a wonderful woman, a mother of 3 and former cowgirl and since I have been enthusiastic about her idea of selling her jewelry online I would like to send my peeps her way to look at what she makes and spread the word!
I’m pretty sure I blogged about that idiot Texan who backed into my car in the middle of a street at a light after doing an illegal Uturn to cut me off. That was September. His trailer hitch put a hole in my front bumper.
Today I was at a swim meet in Powell. My car was parked at the edge of the parking lot, along the curb, miles from any other car. My husband went out to drink his coffee and found a big black truck with a big grill and a trailer hitch parked very very closely in front of mine. He walked to the front of my car and found that the truck had backed into mine and dented my license plate.
Then because it was snowing and wet he was able to see my car past the dirt and bug carcasses and found a third hole between the license plate and the Texas hole where someone else since September had also hit my car.
Seriously? Three times? That’s too much of a coincidence for a little blue Focus. With bumper stickers suggesting I’m a mom with a sense of humor. And possibly a liberal. And a glass umbrella hanging from the rear view mirror. Possibly a liberal since it’s not a gun rack or part of a dead creature. And a big stuffed pokemon with it’s mouth covered in safety pins. Possibly with very odd children who have piercings and tattoos.
It’s not a coincidence at all that they keep backing into my stopped or parked car. It’s Wyoming, male dominated, republican, gas guzzling big truck driving people (I can’t say men because the only one I’ve seen is the Texan) who think nothing of hitting space saving high gas mileage family cars. I wonder what would happen if I put my Obama 2012 bumper sticker on there. I’d probably get shot at.
One might reasonably ask why I live here. In Vermont there were plenty of other people just like me. People who recycle. People who pick up trash as they take a walk around town. People who keep the heat low and the water heater small. But what good could I do there? The easy way is not my way.
Someone from work said their first impression of me was that I was a feminist East Coaster who was going to teach everyone how to do things and that I was cold. She said a week later she saw me at the movie theater with my husband and decided she was wrong. But here’s the thing: I am a smart underhanded feminist and I have an agenda. But I won’t do anything that puts a target on my back. I’m much more subtle. I get other people to speak for me. I plant the small seeds of ideas of equality and environmentalism, among other things. I explain the Occupy protest to my children who bring it up in class (where sadly they are told the whole thing is bogus).
But this car war has to end and so I’m installing spikes on the front of my car. Walmart sells a spiked license plate: Here!
I’m against violence but not against saving my car from harassment.
I went up the North Fork with 2 friends today to hunt for bear
from the car and it was another dud trip. With pouring rain all the way I didn’t really expect any intelligent animal would just be standing by the side of the road waiting for me to take pictures. My friend V says that bears don’t care about water and don’t care that it’s pouring, but if I was a bear I would find a cave or a big tree to huddle under. I’d be a finicky bear.
She’s obsessed with staying safe from grizzlies, while at the same time she wants to find them. On a rocky stretch of river one day she turned to me (as I carried a huge piece of petrified wood) and asked:
If a bear charged across the river right now at us, would you shit your pants?
I made that thinking hard face that has left a permanent vertical wrinkle between my eyes.
No, because I would have to stop and put in effort to shit myself. I can seeing peeing down my leg as I run toward the car, but shitting takes time and concentration.
I don’t think the bear would care that I had taken the time to smell like shit. Bears like shit.
And I think they don’t really care about rain, but aren’t going to go through any extra effort if they don’t have to.
The bear would probably stop to think about how I consider it to be smarter than it is lazy and would run after V instead.
The burgers are good. Steaks are tasty. And that kid who does the dishes and looks like Wonderbread happens to be sitting in my recliner. But the service . . .
An hour and 20 minutes
from the time we ordered to the time our food arrived.
A table of 5 who came in at the same time we did had already eaten and left.
A table after us got their food half an hour before us.
And then we were told we couldn’t pay separately, although we were by now running late for a movie. Until the other waiter said Okay, I’ll help you. Not ours, the OTHER one.
Personally I wouldn’t have chosen it in the first place, only because I can’t eat meaty red beefy burgers or steak without spending the next two hours trapped in a movie theater seat blaming the toxic gas on the man sitting next to me. Who I happen to be married to. And even though he told me that would be okay with him, I just couldn’t do it.
I’ve done enough serving in my day to really wonder what was going on!