« August 2003 | Main | October 2003 »

September 2003 Archives

September 9, 2003

Happy Tuesday!

Yanno, I don’t deal very well with stress. Normally I don’t stress out about much. I used to think I was so cool when I got married and graduated from college the same day back in 1994. I didn’t even break a sweat*.

Whatchoo looking at me like that for?

Yes, I did too tell you I was married before. Did too. Yes, I know. Mister is the only man for me. And the only time (I could be wrong) that I even mentioned the ex was when I said that I lived in Nacogdoches and was married to a small town cop. Oh, and that my parents didn’t want me to talk about my past and all of that.

See? I told you all of this before.

*Well, Ok, fine… yes, Yes! I did break a sweat. It was hot! I just meant to say that I wasn’t all hyper over two big events taking place on the same day.

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere point, point, point!

Ah. There you are.

My point is that when I was younger (and much more retarded) I wasn’t all that nervous about getting married.

I think the reasons are these;
1) I was retarded (see above)
2) I didn’t think it was a big deal because I was … retarded and
3) I was so in love with my step daughter (She will be 14 this year. Little side note for ya there.) that I could have moved mountains… even though I was retarded.

This time, I am a little nervous. There is more weight to this “I Do.” because I know it is a final decision. I will be with this man until they put me into the ground. I want to be next to him for the rest of my natural born life, and if I can swing it, even longer! This is my soul mate. I want to be the best wife, the best friend, the best lover, heck… the best everything for him! Kind of a daunting task if you think about it.

I never really cared before. But I sure as hell do now!

I guess what I was trying to say (with such grammatical and lyrical excellence) is that I feel like my first marriage didn’t even count. It was more of an end to a means. I needed a family to take care of (or I thought I did… like a fool) and the ex needed someone to take care of his family. I didn’t say, “yes” to the ex’s proposal thinking of all the babies we would have and growing old together and being partners in life. I said “yes” thinking, “Well, I don’t have anything better to do… why not?”

When I said (or squealed with glee) “Yes!!!!!” to Mister, I said yes to sharing our lives, being partners in everything, supporting his ideas and brilliance 150%. I said yes to sleeping in his arms every night, to having our children and raising them in a Godly home. I said yes to dishes and laundry and car payments and mortgage… I said yes to everything as long as it includes him.

It’s a new journey and I am ready. With all my heart.

There are only 18 days until we say “I Do.” I am so excited! And nervous! Woo hoo!


I went next door to my office a few weeks ago. There is a bookworm’s fantasy in that building. A second hand book dealer! *swoon* Mmmmm, I love me some cheap paperbacks! Yessiree! I sure do!

I picked up four books, The Horse Whisperer was one of them. I saw a few forgettable moments of the movie, but I never had a chance to read the book. When I was finished reading the book, Mister and I rented it.

It took us a good 4 days to watch the movie because we had other obligations, but it was pretty good.

I have to tell you guys something.

I love watching movies with Mister. He sits on the love seat and I sit on the floor in front of him. Perfect vantage point to have your hair brushed, if ya ask me!

So there we were, watching this movie…

There is a scene where the little girl, Grace, loses her leg. Yes, yes, yes poor thing. Whatever. Anyway, we are watching this poignant scene where she falls down or something and she is about to just give up. Throw in the proverbial towel. Go belly up. Take her ball and go home… you get my meaning. The soft music playing in the background builds to a crescendo and I hear this sweet but forceful whisper from behind me say “Fight!”

There was such feeling in that one word.

Yep, I love it people. Mister talks to movies. :)


Do you guys (all three of you) remember when I walked out of the office back in … um… May (I think) and didn’t lock the door? Well, Co-worker C called me Sunday morning around 8:30 or so. I should have been getting ready for church, but no. Instead, I was listening to her tell me that I left the frikkin door open AGAIN!

I know I was in a hurry to get to my alterations appointment to get my wedding outfit pinned. I had to go to the post office and drop off some mailings. My arms were full of my purse, my cup, a huge bag o’ mail and my glasses.

Apparently I walked right out the door, did not lock it and drove away. Nothing was harmed except my pride. Nothing was stolen except my dignity. Co-worker C promises to take it to her grave. Her wife said if she mentioned it to hand boss, he’d fire me. I don’t doubt it.


We have cleaning people come into the office every two weeks. The lady put some weird toilet bowl cake thing in the girl’s bathroom in the office. It is like a tiny white alien with a plastic structure allowing it to cling to the side of the bowl.

It smells like prison.

Ugh.

I bit the bullet and threw it away this afternoon. It was starting to cause the office to smell like prison.

Now, I have never been to prison. But I can almost guarantee you that it smells like that white, toilet cleaner thing.


My favorite entry.

September 12, 2003

Fo Shizzle P-Dog!

I was born in the Great White North. Just call me Nanook.

Kidding.

It’s more like… I was born in the Very Polite and Stylishly-Old-World-North of Connecticut.

I was not there for very long. My dad got transferred and we moved to Florida when I was about 6 months old. At the age of 2 and a half we moved to Georgia, at the age of 12 we moved to Texas.

I’m not saying I am a gypsy, nomad or wanderer. I just moved around a bit growing up.

We went on trips several times a year as well. We used to go along with my father on business trips when my sister and I were out of school and we usually took a week long family vacation during the warm months of summer as well.

Those long driving trips I recall with fond memories and wistfulness.

I think that is the source of my propensity for travel.

My parents moved to Colorado in 1992 when I was just a wee babe in college. My sister and I were both enrolled at the same college in East Texas so we weren’t too worried about being left to our own devices.

I was a sophomore (not even 19) and my sister was going to graduate in May of that year. We figured that we could take care of each other, and we could always call my folks if we needed anything.

The thing I was looking forward to after their move was the road trip up to see them. They stayed in Colorado for the better part of a decade so I got the chance many a time.

Their beautiful home was 999 miles exactly from my front door in East Texas. I usually went through Oklahoma and up through Kansas. At Salinas, Kansas I would hang a lefty on I-70, set my cruise control, crawl in the back of my truck and take a nap.

There was really nothing to endanger my safety as long as I jury-rigged the steering wheel to remain straight for EIGHTEEN FRILLION FORESAKEN MILES OF NOTHINGNESS! JesusGod ya’ll. That place is barren.

Well, I take that back.

There is one thing.

The first time I drove up to see my parents I started seeing the billboards as soon as I turned onto 1-70. They fairly screamed at me to witness biological horrors and freaks of nature.

“Come poke an angry, venomous snake with a stick!”
“Come pull the finger of a giant toothless redneck!”
“Come one, come all!”
“Come throw rocks at angry raccoons in the bright, harsh light of day! Do we care that raccoons are nocturnal!? NOOOOOOOOOO!”
“Come look through our flea-market quality gift shop items that will clean out your wallet but still leave you feeling slightly greasy and empty on the inside.”

I had to go.

Those billboards were genius!

The best one was, “World’s Largest Prairie Dog! 8,000 pounds!**” That is immense ya’ll! That is one friggin HUGE prairie dog. I couldn’t help but wonder about it’s dietary habits and the smell of such a large rodent.

[**Of course this one is the only real billboard. A redneck won’t stand still for you to pull his finger, even a giant, and toothless one.]

I saw a building about 87 miles up the road. [I am not kidding when I say that Kansas is barren.] I was hoping that the building was one of two things. I was hoping that it was 1) a gas station because the banana peels I put in the flux-capasitator were not cutting it or 2) that it was Prairie Dog Town*, the attraction that put their stamp on the world with the record for the most billboards in one square mile (see examples above).

[*If you click on that link you are treated to the sight of a two headed calf and the stuffed remains of what appear to be a deer’s ass… with googly eyes.
Brilliant.
Sorry for the tangent.]

Anywho, I waited the hour-long drive that it took to get to the actual building and pulled off the highway to check out the attraction.

The parking lot was huge, dusty and packed. A tram pulled up and I got on. The young woman giving our interesting facts was yelling things politely into a bullhorn as her co-worker drove.

“We are very proud of our prairie dogs here at Prairie Dog Town. Our population is seven hundred and thir…[bump-bump]… seven hundred and twenty nine prairie dogs.”

Yes, I am kidding. No, they didn’t run over a poor, helpless prairie dog.

They ran over TWO!

Eh.

There wasn’t a tram. The parking lot was packed, dusty and very large.

I walked up to the building that looked like a run down Cracker Barrel with rickets or something and opened the door.

They had a gift shop. Cow pies shellacked, stuffed rodents playing bagpipes, gift boxed wooden plaques with witty sayings like “Don’t let old age get you down, it’s too hard to get back up!” Ba-dum-chhh. Oh the hilarity.

I paid my four dollars to go through a door marked “Exhibits” and walked past a glass-enclosed box filled with rattle snakes. Whee. Pissed and within arms length.

I walked through the entrance to the true prairie dog town and squinted as my eyes got used to the glaring sun again.

Everywhere I looked I saw hard packed earth with no grass, chicken wire enclosures, prairie dogs scurrying and deformed animals baking in the hot sun.

A six-legged calf with two shriveled up useless little legs behind his left foreleg. A couple of bleary eyed raccoons out in the hot sun. Coons, in the sun. Hello… Nocturnal animals you cruel bastards.

There was a solitary wolf in a chicken wire enclosure. Wolves are social animals, and that poor thing was all alone. Well, of course he had all the frillion little smarmy prairie dogs running around under foot. It broke my heart.

I know, I know. This started off pretty funny…

You: No it didn’t.

Me: Oh hush.

I wanted to kick that ugly lady that took my money in her last tooth.

I was guilty; I gave them money to look.

Before I went back inside I noticed the 8,000-pound prairie dog. [Because I’m Captain Obvious!]

Oh, those people were Clever with a capital C! Along the walkway back to the building was a large two story concrete prairie dog worn down by the constant source of grit in the air. He sorta looked sad as he hunkered there watching over his kingdom … OF CRAP!

On the walls when you walk back inside the “Gift Shop” were freaks that had passed on to a less cruel afterlife (hopefully) and the proprietors had stuffed their carcasses to lend to the ambiance of their shack.

I told Mister about this place last night over dinner. We were talking about other places we would like to live and Kansas came up and was negated immediately.

He is now on a mission to see Prairie Dog Town.

He sent me this link on Prairie Dog Fishing. Sounds like fun. Heh.

I love this picture.

September 16, 2003

Spanklin's Spanish Inqusition

Yesterday afternoon, whilst eating lunch, I was goofin around on the net and decided to go visit one of my favorite diaries. spanklin large and in charge. He had some information in his entry about questions that he had been put out by none other than peth.

Being relatively new to the scene, I of course followed the linky links to Peth’s entry after I read spanklin’s witty banter. She has format greatness.

I signed Spank’s guest book or comments page with a shy accepting of the challenge he issued to answer five of his quirky spanklified questions.

The information below was found in my guest book this morning.

Your delivery of five spanky questions as ordered.

1) If you could have any extraneous working bit of anatomy grafted to your body, what would it be? For an example: I would have nipples attached to my fingertips.
Answer: I think that I could do without the feathered wings of an angel or leathery wings of a bat. I am just about certain that I could make it just fine without a tail, but I may like to have an extra set of knees. They would come in handy with today’s compact cars. Oooh, and you could fold you legs up under the seat while on an airplane, foregoing that uncomfortable “pardon me” dance you do when your seat mate has to get up to use the john.

2) Can rocks smell?
Answer: I have smelled sulfurous rocks that smell like eggs, mica flaked rocks that smell like aluminum and igneous rock (granite) that smelled like the creek out behind my old neighborhood. But I believe you are asking if I think that rocks have the anthropomorphic capability to actually smell something else, a sense of smell. Well, no, I don’t think that rocks can actually smell, if they could it would be too heartbreaking to think about all of the millions of rocks trapped inside concrete and asphalt with no choice but to smell their little rocky neighbors for the whole of eternity. Beh.

3) What is Ya-Ya?
Answer: A Ya Ya is a sister, a friend, a mother, a lover, a daughter, a wife, a girlfriend, a co-worker or any one of millions of things that women can be and or do. Being a Ya Ya consists of being part of a network of strong women who (in our case) get together once a year to drink, smoke, dance, sing, laugh, yell, cry, squeal, perform synchronized swimming (hee!) and relax. In other words, it is a great excuse to screw off and get away for the weekend with your girlfriends. :)

4) Do scuffed knees make you think naughty thoughts?
Answer: They do now. Thankyouverymuch. I used to think of dirty or scuffed knees as a mark of playing hard as a kid. Getting grass stains on your shoes and accidentally scraping your knee while you are playing Kick the Can or Ghost In The Graveyard (not to be confused with that movie). Playing with your friends on a hot summer night… in Marietta, Georgia… in a total Beaver Cleaver neighborhood called Somerset… out behind the Carter’s house. Just me? Fine.

5) Favorite female question: How was your day?
Answer: Actually my day has been pretty good so far. Mister and I went to get our wedding license today. Bit of an adventure really. I lost my divorce papers. No silly, not the various correspondence that didn’t mean Jack squat. Just the one important page with the judge’s signature on it. Meh. So we went to the Dallas County Courthouse to get a copy. I DID have the cause number, thank goodness. Then we headed to the Collin County Clerk’s office to get the actually marriage license. Very cool. We’re gonna be all legally married n stuff.

So, that concludes my Spanklin’s Spanish Inquisition.

This was actually pretty darn fun!

Does anyone else have any questions?

For now….

Have a great Tuesday!

About September 2003

This page contains all entries posted to Suzanna Danna in September 2003. They are listed from oldest to newest.

August 2003 is the previous archive.

October 2003 is the next archive.

Many more can be found on the main index page or by looking through the archives.

Powered by
Movable Type 3.35