It's a good thing I'm pretty!

The last couple times I used my oven, it's been a little funky. Only the top element heats up. I could not for the life of me figure out why. It just started recently. I first noticed it when I made the bus cookies. I have a thermometer in the oven and the temperature is dead on. It's the most accurate oven I've ever had which is especially impressive given it's age. I lowered the rack since everything was BROILING!!!!!! This was driving me nuts. What the heck? I'm making cornbread right now and turned on the oven. Damned if the top element did heat up again.

And then it dawned on me....I cleaned the stove. I mean, I took it apart the stove and scrubbed everything. I removed the knobs, too. This is an older stove with two oven knobs. One has the temperature on it. The other has four word printed on it, "off, bake, off, broil." I put that knob on backwards. When I've been using the oven, I've been turning it on to BROIL, not BAKE. Big difference, people.

Kinda like when I moved in to this apartment and wanted to turn the temperature on the fridge down. I like a cold fridge, things keep longer. Except that I turned the temperature up instead. For a couple weeks, I couldn't figure out why everything was going bad so quickly! One friend even suggested maybe it hadn't been cleaned out very well and I had a fungus or something. Nope. I just made it too warm.

Speaking of cornbread....one box of Jiffy cornbread mix, one egg, 1/3 cup of milk, 1/2 cup of shredded jack cheese, three green onions sliced. Fry an egg over easy, so the yolk is nice and runny and put on a slice of cornbread. Yum!!!!

I guess it doesn't take that long to cut 120,000 zip ties.

I am always leery of rides at the Fair. These rides are put together by individuals who, on their best day couldn't pass a GED* exam. I'm just saying is all. Not to be a snob, but...oh who am I kidding? I am a snob. I like rides in amusement parks. They are put together by engineers and welders. The rides at the Fair are portable. How many of us have moved that old bookshelf or futon I don't know how many times and this last time it was set up suddenly we were missing a couple screws when we went to put it together. Huh? Who's with me on this? Alright then. Do you mean to tell me that by the time these rides get to the North Carolina State Fair these ex-junkies still have in their possession all of the little ziploc baggies labeled with all of the screws they should have? I don't think so.


On the Saturday I went to the Fair, my friends wanted to ride the Ferris wheel. The really big one. The closer we got, the more my stomach hurt. That's long way to fall.


I agreed to go with them. The majority of the time we were in the round seat thingy (what do you call that?), the Ferris wheel wasn't moving. We were just swinging back and forth like a bird feeder in a stiff wind. Oh, did I mention there only supposed to be six people to a seat and we had eight? Um, yeah. As we're going up, I see zip ties. Lots of zip ties. You know, those little black plastic things you have holding all the cords behind the television set. The ever optimistic Kat tries to reassure me that they're only holding the lights on to the ride, but I'm not buying it. To be honest, once the ride actually started moving in the manner in which a Ferris wheel ride is expected to move, it was kinda fun. Like I said, I like rides. When built by engineers and welders. I'd totally ride a Ferris wheel at Six Flags. If they had such a thing. One of my favorite rides are the Bavarian Swings. At least that's what I think they're called.


You know, that thing. My point here, peoples, is that I ain't skeered. Okay? It's just the notion of the "portable pocket sized roller coaster" that makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. And not in a good way.

Why do I bring all this up? I'll tell you why. When I went to work this morning, I passed the fairgrounds. The Ferris wheel I rode was up and most of the lights were on, as were the other two Ferris wheels present at the Fair this year. On my way home tonight, there were no Ferris wheels. Plural. As in all three had been dismantled. Expertly, no doubt, by the Certified Ride Technicians, I am sure. In the span of my work day, they took these three rides apart. Yes, yes, I am sure they have many people working on this, but it somehow doesn't seem right. And with any luck, they still have all of the Sharpie marker labeled baggies with all of the screws present and accounted for, before they move onto the next state fair.


*GED, for my non American readers, in case you don't have such a thing...is an exam one can take rather than completing high school and getting a diploma. It stands for General Something Something, I don't know what.


EDIT: Go here for info on the history of the Ferris Wheel.

It only took three and a half hours, but I finished.

My photos of the NC State Fair on Flickr. All 368 of them.

Wow.

The Salt Lake Tribune Editorial Board endorses Barack Obama for President. Bush carried Utah by 72% in the last election. This is huge.

Emergency update from the Fair!!!

She sold the hat! Auuugh! I am so disappointed!

Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to self medicate with deep fried mac'n'cheese.

Whadda ya think?

Should I buy the hat? It's only $30 in the Village of Yeateryear at the NC State Fair. Speak up, dear readers. What do you think?

Grrrrrrrr.....Success!

I'm attempting to upload a smattering of NC State Fair photos, but Blogger (or my connection to the Internets) is not working. I have tons more to post. I can't leave you hanging, can I?

Edit...Success! I finally got all of the pictures uploaded! Yay!

2008 North Carolina State Fair, photographed

There was bus riding to the Fair.


Went with the Super Friends, from L-R: Jud, Kat, Julie, Pru. It wasn't until after I took about 20 pictures that I realized I had the camera set on macro. Sigh.


There were giant alligators.


There were one-armed carnies hawking rigged games.


There were giant smoked turkey legs. This was so good!


There was tons of fried foods. Anything you could think of, these people fried. I had a deep fried Milky Way. It was so good.


There was ice cream made by a John Deere tractor.


There were blacksmithing demonstrations.


There were tobacco displays. This is North Carolina, after all.


There was cow judging.


There were plenty of ribbons to go around.


A good time was had by all.

2008 North Carolina State Fair

I went to the Fair this morning. I'm home on a break then back again. I've taken a zillion pictures. Here's a preview.

Shaved sheep in crazy shirts


Cheerwine flavored fudge


Stay tuned!

License plates spotted on I-40.

LIVE4DAY
I think they're missing something in there.

PH-DIVA
What's she getting a PhD in? Hair and makeup? Being demanding and bitchy?

Today's observations

1. On the way home today from work, I sneezed. Normally, this bodily function is not blog-worthy. But this is what happened when I sneezed.


Seriously, he's two seats in front of me, people. What the hell?

2. I learned today that Floyd does not wear socks. Something about this disturbs me.

3. This morning, the backdoor got stuck. Sarge kept his cool and called for a new bus, which was around the corner. We got off the old bus, boarded the new one, and were off. He was not about to be late twice in one week. Sarge had a hard time convincing Amy Number One she didn't need to swipe her pass to get on the new bus. When she realized it was not necessary, she thanked Sarge. It was cute. (She got in trouble with him last week for ringing for a stop when she wasn't supposed to. "You better be good now, Amy," was what he said to her.) Sarge got us to the Transfer Center with three minutes to spare. After he got off the bus to stretch his legs, I heard him talking to Floyd. "They were stressing me out this morning!" One thing I like the most about him is that all of the other drivers call him by his last name. They'll refer to each other by first name, except Sarge. They call him Mr. Spivey. I've never heard his first name used. Not even by Floyd, who may be older than Sarge!

4. I also wanted to let you know I figured out where Crunchberries come from. They come from this tree in my front yard.


Weighing the number of fallen Crunchberries on the ground against the squirrel and bird activity in the front yard, I am going out on a limb and say they are not edible. Perhaps Cap'n Crunch has to freeze-dry them first.

5. The beer dinner was superb. I'll post photos later.

What's For Dinner? Fer reals.

Beer dinner at Zely and Ritz with our friends at the Big Boss Brewery, Raleigh. I am not sure I can wait until 7 o'clock tonight!

Starter-Reception
Angry Angel Kolsch Style Ale

1st Course:
Barley Salad with Shitake Mushrooms & Arugula
Beer: Hell’s Belle Belgian Blond

2nd Course:
Steamed Middleneck Clams with CRF Maple Sausage in a Blackberry Ale Broth
Beer: Belgian Blackberry Ale

3rdCourse:
King Mackerel Gravlax with Kennebec & Sweet Potato Latke
Beer: Big Boss Pale Ale

4th Course:
CRF Pork Ossobuco with Pumpkin Ale and Apple Cider over Pumpkin Polenta
Beer: Harvest Time Pumpkin Ale

5th Course:
Date Crème Brulee
Beer: Bad Penny Brown Ale

A new answer to the question, "what's for dinner?"

Fork Steak and Ghettalian Garlic Bread

Ps. Since this is Cookin' With Coolio, you can imagine it's not exactly PG-13. Just sayin'.

Tomorrow's forecast

Low: 52 degrees
High: 87 degrees

How on earth are you supposed to dress for that?

Hey, that's my bus!

I left home this morning a minute or two early. Once I leave my apartment, I have my routine down to a science. I know when the three CAT buses are going to go by. I know when to expect the redneck in the Bigfoot truck with all of the hunting stickers to go speeding down Hillsborough Street. I look for the lady to walk the little white dog who hates to go for walks so early in the morning. (He's really cute. He'll just stop and look at her like, "really? Isn't it too early for a walk?") I know when to expect the guy who works at the Citgo station. Seriously, y'all, you can set your watch by these people.

Imagine my surprise when I am passed by a 105 bus while walking to my bus stop! There should not be a 105 at that point on Hillsborough Street at 6:54 AM. Either it's my bus too early or the other bus too late. I waived at the bus, but it just kept going. From this, I surmise that it's not Sarge, but rather the bus before running very late. Sarge would have stopped. I sit on the bench and wait. I see a bus coming and get up. They've been scrolling these messages (take it easy, Triangle Transit, etc) on their signs which make it hard to tell what bus it is. Turns out it's an express. Again, I sit. This guy walks up. He's a nice guy, been taking the bus for a while, works for Big Tech company, nice guy. As he's about a half a block away, here comes another bus. Again, I get up. Turns out that it's another express. This one stops for me. I verified that it was the Durham express. I told him he wasn't suppose to stop there and turned to talk to Nice Guy. I told him I had no idea where our bus was, another one came by late and the express just stopped for us. Basically, the transit world has gone crazy. We begin chatting about what time I was there, what buses went by, etc. Finally Sarge rolls up and off we go. Keep in mind, Sarge is a former military man, and as such, he hates to be late. He gets a little cranky when he runs late.

We're driving along and it's clear we're going to arrive late at the Transfer Center in spite of the fact that Sarge is haulin' ass up I-40. He call the disptcher to tell her we're running late, he has a packed bus, please hold the buses. She replies, "10-4." As I understand it, "10-4" is bus driver speak for "okie dokie." We're driving along, still running late. My bus happens to run every 15 minutes and we're going to meet other buses that run every 30 minutes, so they will hold all of the other buses until we arrive. We're getting closer and the dispatcher starts telling the buses to go. Sarge gets on the radio and says, "I told you I was running late, asked you to hold the buses, and you said okay. I am right here on Davis Drive." (We were litterally around the corner, watching the buses pull away. To which the dispatcher replies, "10-4, you are correct sir." and then she tells Platform Four they can go. At this point, Sarge gets a little prickly. He had apparently told the dispatcher before he even got to my stop that he was going to be late. Three times he told her. And I was still 30 minutes late to work!

It takes a village.

The first bus I take home in the evening is the 48, which uses LabCorp as its second time point. I was sitting in the back of the bus and I noticed an unusually large crowd in the front. The LabCorp building is next to an office building, and next to each is woods for a good half mile in either direction. This means that we expect people to get off at that stop in the morning and on at that stop in the evening, which is 99% of the time what happens. This stop happens to be shared with the Number 15 DATA bus, which is hardly ever used since the DATA buses are terrifying and run every hour and a half in rush hour traffic. Now that we have that straight, here's what happened Friday afternoon. Keep in mind I'm a little fuzzy on the specifics because I was the asshole in the back of the bus yakking away on the cell phone. (I hate those people!)

Floyd pulls up to LabCorp stop. One young girl gets off, three people get on. Floyd starts to drive, but wonders aloud what Young Girl is trying to do. Floyd stops the bus and opens the doors. Cross Eyed Mary also wonders aloud what Young Girl wants to do. This propmts Lefty to perk up as well. Floyd, the halo wearing bus driver, is having trouble getting Young Girls attention, so he honks at her and motions for her to get back on the bus. Floyd asks her where she is going. I didn't hear what she said, but this prompts Floyd to do a lot of gesturing and pointing. Cross Eyed Mary suddenly has something to say, and is now standing in the front of the bus with Floyd and Young Girl. Another woman picks up a schedule opens it, and heads to the front. I look up again and three people, including Floyd, are holding schedules and pointing in different directions. Young Girl looks even more confused. I am fairly certain that at some point, Red Headed Stranger gets in on this too. This carries on for, I kid you not, ten minutes before everyone sits down and Floyd closes the doors and drives on. Miraculously, we arrived on time at the Transfer Center.

Fear not, loyal readers. If you find yourself on a bus and unsure of where to go, there will be five people armed with schedules and an opinion on your travel plans.

Another facelift...

Sorry, y'all. Lil Brotha said the yellow was too bright. I was on the fence about it. The solution, I just picked a new template. Hopefully, everyone (and their retinas) are happy.

A priviledge, a right, or a responsibility?

I came across this article in the New York Times today. It talks about how election officials are trying to purge voter registration records and may be doing so illegally.

From the article:

"In the year ending Sept. 30, election officials in Nevada, for example, used the Social Security database more than 740,000 times to check voter files or registration applications and found more than 715,000 nonmatches, federal records show. Election officials in Georgia ran more than 1.9 million checks on voter files or voter registration applications and found more than 260,000 nonmatches."

As we see here, using the Social Security Database produces questionable results and should only be done as a last resort.

In the United States, we talk about having "the right to vote." As an American, I am supposed to be able to vote in an election. Is that really true? No, it is not. As an American, we can lose the right to vote if convicted of a felony. In some cases, that loss can be permanent. In the state of North Carolina, anyone over the age of 16 is sentenced as an adult. Period. No discussion. Let's use an example here...Duwayne. He's 16. He has some older friends his mom would prefer he didn't associate with. He gets swept up in the peer pressure of being cool. He is involved in an armed robbery with these unsavory friends (in NC, I believe it's an automatic 7 years jail time). He's only 16. If he's shown the right track, he might be able to turn his life around, go to college, give back to the community, be a role model for someone like him. However, Duwayne has lost the "right" to make his voice heard before he was ever allowed to use that "right." If we think about two specific characteristics that could describe a majority of those in the prison system, regardless of the state, what comes to mind for me would be either poor or black. This reeks of classicism and racism. These are the individuals who most need their voices heard. Instead, the government takes away that "right" for at least a part of their adult lives. If this truly is a right, then how can they take it away? Voting is our responsibility, but it is more a privilege than a right.

The election officials are now going to inadvertently disenfranchise even more individuals at this polls this year simply because they did not follow proper procedure.

Riding the bus gives me a daily reminder that there are so many more people out there that live nothing like I do. It reminds me that there are so many people that didn't grow up with a stay-at-home mom, a cookie cutter house in the suburbs, an SUV and a country club pool to swim in during summer breaks. Few people we allowed to attend a $12,000 a year (in 1990!) private college, without scholarship money or student loans. Riding the bus has been the best reminder for me of the need for social responsibility. It is important that we look out for every member of our community, regardless of who, or what, they may be.

Here's some further reading for you.
Losing The Vote; The Impact of Felony Disenfranchisement Laws In The United States

Facelift for a 36 year old. Or at least her blog.

I made some changes here. Let me know what you think. I think the black background was a little hard to read.

In other news, I found this article. In spite of my view of the ineffectiveness of Raleigh's "Finest" and the local government's lack of interest in rectifying said problem, this article reminds me why I love Charles Meeker, our mayor. He's a stand up guy and I truly believe he looks out for all of the citizens of Raleigh. At the end of the day, I'm glad he's in office.

Coincidentally, it's still hard to get to Briar Creek on a bus.

Oh no she dint!

Anyone remember this post? Right, so a couple days ago the former friend Margaret sent me an email that said this:

"it's obvious you are pissed that i took you up on your offer to get another ride from the airport on memorial day. if you'd like to sort it out and/or bury the hatchet, let me know. hope we can.

m"

I stewed a couple days because I wasn't sure what I wanted to say. Here's the response I sent this evening:

"It's obvious I'm still pissed that you took me up on my offer to get another ride from the airport? Funny, that almost sounds like I am the one who should apologize. It was after July 4th and the way I remember it is you committed to picking me up from the airport but backed out at the last minute because you "had a long weekend." If I offered to find another ride from a more reliable friend, it was purely because I didn't care to deal with your self-absorbed bullshit after spending 22 of the previous 24 hours in an airport with no clear idea of when I was getting home. I am lucky to have friends like Jake and Leah who would drive to the airport at midnight to help me out.

What surprises me is that I'm not mad about that. I was enjoying hanging out with you, but I couldn't figure out why I felt like I needed to keep you at arms length. Thanks for reminding me why. What does piss me off is that you finally contact me about it three months later. I can only presume this was prompted by Pruitt and Julie coming to Raleigh more than you wanting to bury the hatchet, as you say.

If I'm right and you sent this email because you want to hang out with Pru and Julie, whatever. I'm going to be spending time with my friends next week. You can join us if you want. I would hope you don't think I'd oppose you tagging along. If Pruitt is in town, I'd expect to see you at some point since you're still friends with him. So, until then...

Cheers,
Meg"

Here's how she responded:

"hahahahahah.

oh...that's rich.

best of luck with that attitude problem and your selective memory."

All I can say is...wow, what a bitch. Seriously.

Part of my horoscope today.

But leaving your commitments behind won't be easy, for you are rather self-reflective these days as you compare your real accomplishments with your goals. Don't be so hard on yourself; accepting your shortcomings as a human can be part of your healing process.

As you can guess, I'm not real thrilled with 36.

Time to vote again, y'all.

Go here to vote for your favorite animal shelter and they could win $10,000!

Get your daily dose.

If you read this blog, then you know I love Cute Overload. Almost as much as I love the New York Times being online. This is one of my favorite posts to appear recently. There's something about this picture that just cracks me up.

Bookmark this website, y'all, if you haven't already. It'll make any day better.

Is it cold in here, or is it just me?

Fuzzy rides my bus. (He has short hair except for the big bald spot. His hair looks really soft. Petably soft. But it would be wrong to pet someone on the bus. It would be especially wrong to pet the blind guy on the bus. But I digress.) (Ahem.) He's a nice guy. He's blind. He wears a tan maintenance uniform, so he's presumably in the maintenance arts and sciences. He lives a couple of apartment buildings down from me. I think he knows Mr. Smith. Today, we had a new bus driver. He was new in the sense that not only has he not been driving the TTA bus long, but I'm not sure he's driven the 105 before. This new guy rolls up to where Fuzzy is, stops, opens the doors and sits there. If you saw a guy with one of those white canes with the red bottom, wouldn't you think, "hey, maybe that guy can't see very well?" Nope, not this guy. He sits there. Fuzzy has to ask what bus it is then nearly trips because he doesn't know this is an old bus with three steps up rather than a new bus with only one step. Fuzzy then goes to sit down in a seat occupied by a woman. She just sits there. She doesn't move or speak. Seriously, is she going to let him sit in her lap? The bus driver also remains mute. I speak up and say "the seat behind the driver is empty." Fuzzy recognizes my voice and we start chatting about how our days were. Nice guy, that Fuzzy. The bus driver and that woman? Not so much.

I'm still on the same bus when we roll on up to the District Drive Park and Ride. We stop and a woman runs over. "I'm sorry, but I just have a quick question. I left my phone on the other bus. What should I do?" To which the driver responds, "Well, I don't know, the bus is already gone." Surely he's kidding. He then says he can call the dispatcher, which he does. The dispatcher calls back and tells him to tell her to go to the lost and found. The driver asks the dispatcher if she can alert the other driver to this AWOL phone. The dispatchers response? "That's a negative, sir."

Tastes like chicken!

I walked over to the Vietnameese restaurant near my office to pick up some lunch. I ordered the spring rolls and pho with tofu and vegetables. I walked back to the office and immediately scarfed down the spring rolls because they are that good. I then opened the pho. It has chicken and broccoli, a few carrots and noodles. No tofu.

::cue losing trumpet sound:: wa, wa, waaaaaaaaaa.

I'm 23. Why do you ask?

Today is my birthday. All day, as Pappy would say. I'm...cough...hack...thirty...cough...six. Jesus, that seems old. As you can tell, I'm not happy about it. I am lucky to share a birthday with the now 12 year old son of two good friends. This means I get to pass the birthday buck, so to speak. To tell the truth, I really don't like being the center of attention, even if it's among people I know. It's nice that I can point to the kid and say, "but it's his birthday too!"

October 5th happens to be the most common birthday. More people are born on this day than any other. Cool, huh? I'm a statistic. Here's a short list of people with whom I share a birthday.

1829 Chester A Arthur
1902 Larry Fine*
1902 Ray Kroc
1917 Allen Ludden*
1919 Donald Pleasence*
1923 Glynis Johnson*
1951 Karen Allen
1954 Bob Geldof
1957 Bernie Mac
1957 Sid Vicious**
1965 Mario Lemieux
1965 Patrick Roy
1967 Guy Pierce
1972 Grant Hill
1975 Kate Winslet
1980 Paul Thomas*
1983 Nikki Hilton

*I really don't feel like looking these people up. Does anyone know who they are?

**On Sid...Wikipedia mistakenly has his birthday as March something. Rolling Stone Mag confirmed it as Oct 5 many years ago. While I find Rolling Stone suspect for their wanton worship of Fergie, I find Wikipedia suspect in every aspect.

Mary Jane and Mr. Smith

I live in a apartment building that was built in 1936. The majority of the residents of the building were little old ladies, until recently, due to, uh...well, the Circle of Life. One of these ladies is Mary Jane. She's 88, I think. She lives down the hall from me. She moved into her apartment fifty years ago. She's never been married, as far as I can tell. She does smocking by hand and makes the most beautiful dresses for her nieces. Mary Jane is damn near deaf as a post. She takes pictures of the residents of the building, which is really cool because she has a photographic history of the residents over the past 20 years or so. She is very active and just as sweet as can be. Mary Jane drives. (I hate that she has a nicer car than I do. Crazy, right?) Mary Jane drives Mr. Smith around.

Mr. Smith lives on the third floor, two floors above me. He has lived in the building since 1982, I think. He's in his late fifties. Mr. Smith is the nicest guy. He helps Mary Jane with her errands. A block or two down Hillsborough Street is another apartment complex, with a shut in resident. Mr. Smith runs all of her errands for her. When I was moving in, Mr. Smith offered to help. He made sure I met Mary Jane. His favorite movie is The Sound Of Music. He volunteers at a soup kitchen downtown. He worries about me going out after dark. Have I mentioned...Mr. Smith is blind? Yup. At least most of his life I'd guess, since he once mentioned going to the Governor Morehead School. About a month ago, I saw Mr. Smith on the front porch. He said he wasn't feeling well and that he'd been having digestive issues. He said he was going to the doctor the next day. About a week later, I ran into Mary Jane on the sidewalk. She mentioned Mr. Smith had to have surgery, but he was doing okay. I stopped by Snoopy's tonight to get a sandwich. I saw Mr. Smith walking around the corner with an older woman. I recognized him right away. When I got closer, I realized I didn't recognize the woman. When I looked again at Mr. Smith, I thought for a minute it wasn't him. He was so much skinnier than the last time I had seen him. He looked so small. It turns out it was his aunt that was with him on the walk. She will be staying with him while he goes through chemotherapy. Mr. Smith has cancer.

I can't believe it. He's so young! It isn't right that anyone gets cancer, but it seems especially unfair that this is happening to Mr. Smith.

Bye, Penny!

Penny and I have been chatting every day this week on the bus. We take the same bus in the morning and the evening. Turns out, she's super cool. She's from Texas, moved to Vermont where her husband is from. She worked on a farm once she got to Vermont. She's a landscape architect. She knits. She and her husband want to move to Pittsburgh at some point! She's smart, funny, sweet and creative, just what I like in a friend. Unfortunately, and for many more reasons that just this, her job ended today. She was an intern at a firm in Durham. This means I don't know if or when I'll see her again. Luckily, Raleigh is small enough that I might see her again.

It's a bummer. It was nice to have someone to talk to on the bus.

I don't think that's covered under the warranty.

If she says "maverick" again, I'm gonna pitch my TV out the window. Seriously.

Hope springs eternal, or so they say.

I had to run to Cameron Village tonight to pick up a couple things. I ran into the Village Deli to get a sandwich and ran into Stacy. Stacy used to work at my vet's office. She, like everyone there, is super sweet and Truman loved them. She asked if I still had Truman. I told her I did not. I think she left before he got really sick. I told her it was cancer after all, which was confirmed by the vet school. We laughed about how he was still a total chowhound even after he lost most of his teeth, apparently lost his eyesight, and in spite of the fact that both the regular vet and the oncologist vet said his appetite should start to go downhill. Stacy was as sweet as ever and admitted to not being sure if she should ask me. I told her it was okay. I also told her I was thinking about thinking about getting another cat, but I'm not quite there yet. I was okay after I got my sandwich until I got to the door. I then boohooed to the bus stop. It's been just over a year since he died, and longer since she worked there. She still remembered him. That's how cool he was. (And that probably shows how much I spent at the vet too!)

I made a pit stop at Great Outdoor to get a headlamp for my trips home from the art studio. I remarkably had a couple minutes to spare at the bus stop. As I was waiting I overheard a conversation about politics and the election between to younger African American guys. They started to talk to me too. It was interesting to hear their points of view were not that different from mine. It gives me hope.
_______________________________________________

This is one of my favorite pictures of Truman, rocking the candy necklace. He was the best cat. I miss him very much.

The 2008 North Carolina State Fair starts on October 16! You know what that means, don't you?

Circle C Racing Pigs - Sponsored by Ray Price Harley Davidson - Circle C Farm will bring the Hogway Speedway back to the Fair with its racing potbelly pigs, ducks and pygmy goats. Fairgoers can cheer on the farm animals as they hustle around the track, located near Gate 9, at 1, 3, 5, 7 & 9 p.m. daily.

Preview day races at 5, 7 & 9 p.m.

Yee haw, y'all.