1.Your rock star name (first pet, current car) - Sparky Commander!
2.Your gangsta name (favorite ice cream flavor, favorite type of shoe) -
Cookie Dough Boots (not really that "gangsta" if you ask me)
3.Your Native American name (favorite color, favorite animal) - Red Wolf ( like it!)
4.Your soap opera name (middle name, city where you were born) - Lynn Johnstown
(ha!)
5.Your Star Wars name (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 of your first name) CRAJE (stupid!)
6.Superhero name (2nd favorite color, favorite drink) -
Green Mojito (awesome!)
7.NASCAR name (the first names of your grandfathers) -
Richard Wayne
(Scary realistic)
8.Dancer name (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy) Princess Peppermint Patty (hells yeah!)
9.TV weather anchor name (your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter)
Ruble Raleigh (hahahaha!)
10.Spy name (your favorite season/holiday, flower) - Spring Daisy
11.Cartoon name:(favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now) -
Strawberry Yoga Pants (squeee!)
12.Hippie name (what you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree) - Cereal Maple
Mcmuffin Oak (um, whatever)
13.Movie (or porn) star name (first pet, first street where you lived) -
Sparky Bing! (see my email address for how much I love this name).
Carry on with your regular scheduled blog surfing, it has been raining in Raleigh for 5607 days and I can't take it anymore, I need sunshine and flowers and warm weather and green grass and a ride on a horse, or I AM GOING TO START KICKING THINGS.
(It always seems that every one else who does this meme gets better answers than I do.)
About Me
- Craver
- North Carolina, United States
- Behind every beautiful thing there's some kind of pain. - Bob Dylan
Monday, March 16, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
The words that hurt you
I realize it is a direct resultof the angry, often-violent home I grew up in, that I learned so well, so very young that words were weapons and best hurled by those that claim to love you for maximum sting. I also remember hearing my mom cry for hours after the words were vapor and Dad was gone.
In high school I took a class called "Human Behavior", I took it because it was open to both juniors and seniors and my dearest friend at the time was a junior and it gave us an excuse to spend another hour together. It was a great class that I did get a lot out of, which is something I can't say about the vast majority of my high school career.
One of the discussions I remembered today while driving around in the rain, we were talking about how in a court of law, a judge can instruct a jury to "disregard previously heard testimony" and were asked if we thought that was really possible.
All around the classroom, we all agreed that No, it wasn't possible, a bell can't be unrung.
All my life I've been a lover of words, of what they can conjure up in one's imagination, the good, the evil, and everything in between.
To this day I can tell you the best compliments I ever received. How the simple words "I'm proud of you" said at an airport one cold November morning choked me up and left me speechless for hours. I can recite the written words of a poem dedicated to me that make me feel more cherished and more loved in 4 simple stanzas than every single utterance of love I have ever heard all stacked up.
These are the words I cling to when I need to remember how much I am/was loved. They are sometimes, the only things that work. They have a value I can't name. They are quite simply everything I want to be worthy of.
Unforunately, I can also recite to you the worst things ever said to me. I remember the day my dad told me my bleach blonde hair made me look "cheaper than dime store candy" (him being right didn't make it hurt less). I remember the Valentine's Day, my boyfriend at the time, Rob, told me he was dumping me for his previous girlfriend because "after all she has the better body", I remember the boyfriend that told me the woman he cheated on me with was no more than "a hole and a hearbeat" (while not speaking of me the fact that I meant so little to be betrayed for "a hole and a heartbeat" was just as painful) and then, most recently, I had someone wish me "a long and lonely life" -- the power of that little phrase has been nothing short of gut wrenching and heart-breaking. That one echoes, loudly and deep in me. It left a big hole going in, but the injury inside is immeasurable.
It is these words that pile on when I am low and hurt and feeling unworthy of any sort of happiness. Most of these words and others like them, were uttered a decade or more ago, and I can honestly say that for me, I'd rather take a punch. I can say that because I've taken a few, also by people that claimed to love me and somehow these words hurt me more*.
I still love words, and wish I could use them better in every situation -- I just don't love those words; admire/detest their power over me, yes, but love them, no. These words make me feel like that last one -- is all I deserve.
I know I will get past this, I have done it before, I will do it again. I will wake up one day soon and know this is just a really bad day, and of course I deserve better/more than that and it was just an incredibly hurtful string of words.
In the meantime, I am trying to remember Dr. Err's advice -- Two tears in a bucket, Fuck it.
*In NO way is this meant to downplay domestic violence/spousal abuse situations. I speak only for myself in *this* situation and am not in any way making light of violent relationships.
In high school I took a class called "Human Behavior", I took it because it was open to both juniors and seniors and my dearest friend at the time was a junior and it gave us an excuse to spend another hour together. It was a great class that I did get a lot out of, which is something I can't say about the vast majority of my high school career.
One of the discussions I remembered today while driving around in the rain, we were talking about how in a court of law, a judge can instruct a jury to "disregard previously heard testimony" and were asked if we thought that was really possible.
All around the classroom, we all agreed that No, it wasn't possible, a bell can't be unrung.
All my life I've been a lover of words, of what they can conjure up in one's imagination, the good, the evil, and everything in between.
To this day I can tell you the best compliments I ever received. How the simple words "I'm proud of you" said at an airport one cold November morning choked me up and left me speechless for hours. I can recite the written words of a poem dedicated to me that make me feel more cherished and more loved in 4 simple stanzas than every single utterance of love I have ever heard all stacked up.
These are the words I cling to when I need to remember how much I am/was loved. They are sometimes, the only things that work. They have a value I can't name. They are quite simply everything I want to be worthy of.
Unforunately, I can also recite to you the worst things ever said to me. I remember the day my dad told me my bleach blonde hair made me look "cheaper than dime store candy" (him being right didn't make it hurt less). I remember the Valentine's Day, my boyfriend at the time, Rob, told me he was dumping me for his previous girlfriend because "after all she has the better body", I remember the boyfriend that told me the woman he cheated on me with was no more than "a hole and a hearbeat" (while not speaking of me the fact that I meant so little to be betrayed for "a hole and a heartbeat" was just as painful) and then, most recently, I had someone wish me "a long and lonely life" -- the power of that little phrase has been nothing short of gut wrenching and heart-breaking. That one echoes, loudly and deep in me. It left a big hole going in, but the injury inside is immeasurable.
It is these words that pile on when I am low and hurt and feeling unworthy of any sort of happiness. Most of these words and others like them, were uttered a decade or more ago, and I can honestly say that for me, I'd rather take a punch. I can say that because I've taken a few, also by people that claimed to love me and somehow these words hurt me more*.
I still love words, and wish I could use them better in every situation -- I just don't love those words; admire/detest their power over me, yes, but love them, no. These words make me feel like that last one -- is all I deserve.
I know I will get past this, I have done it before, I will do it again. I will wake up one day soon and know this is just a really bad day, and of course I deserve better/more than that and it was just an incredibly hurtful string of words.
In the meantime, I am trying to remember Dr. Err's advice -- Two tears in a bucket, Fuck it.
*In NO way is this meant to downplay domestic violence/spousal abuse situations. I speak only for myself in *this* situation and am not in any way making light of violent relationships.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Just a post
In about 3.5 hours I'm running a 10K in a neighboring town. The group that organized the 8k turkey trot I did organizes a bunch of smaller local races - races I didn't know about until after that Thanksgiving Day race. I sat down with their website last week and entered random races over the next couple of months. Since my dog training situation is suddenly vastly different than it's been for the last year plus, my weekends just got a whole lot roomier. I see more running and more horses in my future. This is not a bad thing but it feels weird, for sure.
I'm thinking pretty seriously about getting a part time job. If nothing else it would finance my dog training trips to Pennsylvania. I'm feeling a little greedy when I consider having TWO jobs when so many are losing their jobs, but I'm hoping that greedy feeling will pass as I watch my dog learn under the capable (and considerably more gentle) hand of this trainer.
I am in the process of becoming (hopefully) a Weight Watchers leader. I lost nearly 47lbs using Weight Watchers, and don't mind pimping them. Weight Watchers isn't a flashy program, Jillian Barberie, Marie Osmond and Wynona Judd are NOT involved. It's truly the program of 'eat right and exercise' and that's kind of boring, but it is truly the only thing that works, long term. I don't think I know everything about the program, but I certainly absorbed everything I could and I am a believer. I was completely, and utterly frustrated at being in my late 30's and able to own and run a home, hold down a job, take care of cars and finances and animals and friends and travel and running but somehow I couldn't get a grip on how to lose weight and keep it off. That frustration drove me to that first meeting well over a year ago.
About a month ago I stopped in to my meeting to record my once a month weight and walked into a new group member talking to our group Leader and dissolving into tears. I went to make a quick escape and she asked me to stay. She apologized and before I could form the thought I told her to stop, that I didn't know a single woman who hadn't cried over her weight. After 15 minutes or so of talking, she left and my Leader, the woman who helped me so much, told me that was about the nicest thing she had heard one member tell another. She planted the seed, and now it's a vile, wicked, unpluckable weed.
Recently in another, much more dangerous, situation I had the opportunity to help someone, a complete stranger in fact, and I followed my heart and my gut - they both told me it was the right thing to do. So, I did. When that person expressed concern that she was being perceived as soliciting help, I told her the truth. When things were at the darkest in my life a complete stranger stuck out their hand.
I owe.
Yes, the two situations are completely different and only in the extreme is weight loss life threatening, but who am I *not* to help when I can, whatever the situation?
It's the person in the second situation I'll be thinking of this morning during my run. She may be running as well this morning, and no doubt with a heavier heart and load than I will. It's going to be a beautiful day here in my corner of the world, I hope it's as beautiful where she's headed today.
I'm thinking pretty seriously about getting a part time job. If nothing else it would finance my dog training trips to Pennsylvania. I'm feeling a little greedy when I consider having TWO jobs when so many are losing their jobs, but I'm hoping that greedy feeling will pass as I watch my dog learn under the capable (and considerably more gentle) hand of this trainer.
I am in the process of becoming (hopefully) a Weight Watchers leader. I lost nearly 47lbs using Weight Watchers, and don't mind pimping them. Weight Watchers isn't a flashy program, Jillian Barberie, Marie Osmond and Wynona Judd are NOT involved. It's truly the program of 'eat right and exercise' and that's kind of boring, but it is truly the only thing that works, long term. I don't think I know everything about the program, but I certainly absorbed everything I could and I am a believer. I was completely, and utterly frustrated at being in my late 30's and able to own and run a home, hold down a job, take care of cars and finances and animals and friends and travel and running but somehow I couldn't get a grip on how to lose weight and keep it off. That frustration drove me to that first meeting well over a year ago.
About a month ago I stopped in to my meeting to record my once a month weight and walked into a new group member talking to our group Leader and dissolving into tears. I went to make a quick escape and she asked me to stay. She apologized and before I could form the thought I told her to stop, that I didn't know a single woman who hadn't cried over her weight. After 15 minutes or so of talking, she left and my Leader, the woman who helped me so much, told me that was about the nicest thing she had heard one member tell another. She planted the seed, and now it's a vile, wicked, unpluckable weed.
Recently in another, much more dangerous, situation I had the opportunity to help someone, a complete stranger in fact, and I followed my heart and my gut - they both told me it was the right thing to do. So, I did. When that person expressed concern that she was being perceived as soliciting help, I told her the truth. When things were at the darkest in my life a complete stranger stuck out their hand.
I owe.
Yes, the two situations are completely different and only in the extreme is weight loss life threatening, but who am I *not* to help when I can, whatever the situation?
It's the person in the second situation I'll be thinking of this morning during my run. She may be running as well this morning, and no doubt with a heavier heart and load than I will. It's going to be a beautiful day here in my corner of the world, I hope it's as beautiful where she's headed today.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
No, you do *not* understand.
Trust me when I tell you, you just don't. The sentiment is wonderful, and kind and yes, it really does mean something., but do not tell me you understand how I feel. Because you don't. I know you don't -- how could you understand how I feel when I don't understand how I feel?
I thought it was going to be fine this year, I got up that morning, wished I could call him, did an emotional inventory and felt okay about it, sad but not bunny boiling sad/crazy. Then I went to lunch. I walked in, sat down, ate an entire meal, and just as we were finishing, I saw the mongolian barbecue chefs slinging vegetables and meat across the hot skillet/table and realized that if he were still alive I'd have been having mongolian barbecue with my brother that nigh to celebrate his 53rd birthday, like we did every year.
I suddenly felt all hot and nauseous, my throat got dry, my heart raced, tears formed and burned my eyes. I was mad. At myself, at my lunch date, at him for dying.
I sucked it up, went back to work, and at 10:15pm as I raised my sharpie marker to cross through the date on the calendar, like I do every other day, I lost it. How could I treat it like any other day? I spent 20 minutes on the floor in my bathroom crying until I vomited then I marked the day off and went to bed.
I believe you care, but no, you do not understand.
I thought it was going to be fine this year, I got up that morning, wished I could call him, did an emotional inventory and felt okay about it, sad but not bunny boiling sad/crazy. Then I went to lunch. I walked in, sat down, ate an entire meal, and just as we were finishing, I saw the mongolian barbecue chefs slinging vegetables and meat across the hot skillet/table and realized that if he were still alive I'd have been having mongolian barbecue with my brother that nigh to celebrate his 53rd birthday, like we did every year.
I suddenly felt all hot and nauseous, my throat got dry, my heart raced, tears formed and burned my eyes. I was mad. At myself, at my lunch date, at him for dying.
I sucked it up, went back to work, and at 10:15pm as I raised my sharpie marker to cross through the date on the calendar, like I do every other day, I lost it. How could I treat it like any other day? I spent 20 minutes on the floor in my bathroom crying until I vomited then I marked the day off and went to bed.
I believe you care, but no, you do not understand.
Monday, March 2, 2009
It's the first of March
and at risk of sounding just like my dad where exactly did the time go?
Seriously.
I put in a fair amount of extra hours at the office in the last four weeks, but I did it to feel better about the several months before the new year where I did almost nothing. I'm not stupid enough to not get nervous in these economic times when work slows down, despite the corporate emails I keep getting telling me everything is fine. It makes me 'squishy' when work slows down like that.
I wrapped up my portion of the project at the end of the week two weeks ago, and headed north to Pennsylvania. My friend Molly lives just west of Harrisburg, PA and we share a common loss (brothers), a common love (german shepherds) and the same taste in stupid movies (The Pink Panther!) I have known Molly a long time, but until recently we were fairly distant. My friendship with her now,is so close, she feels like family. We spent a few days together and then I headed to Philadelphia to work with a well known, well respected dog trainer. Is it reasonable to think I'm going to drive to Philly to train dogs on a regular basis? No. Am I considering it? Yep. I've already spent a day re-figuring budgets and yeah it's crazy, but yeah, I might do it anyway. It would really help if I could just win the damn lottery though. Really. Not even the big jackpot is necessary, the little one will do. I'm just putting that out there in case the lottery gods are interested.
My favorite quote of the week in PA came from Molly who as she handed me several bowls of dog food to feed her boarding dogs reminded me to push the bowls 2-3 feet away from the chain link fencing. Why? (Well I'll tell you why, because if you leave the bowls close to the edge the chickens will stick their heads in through the fence holes and the dogs, they will bite their heads right off.
For the record, no chickens were beheaded on my watch.
I stayed in one of those cool studio apartment-hotel rooms in Philadelphia. I LOVE staying in hotels, as long as I have a comfortable bed a four cup coffee maker a microwave and a fridge, I'm all good.
We trained from 10 am til nearly 8pm at night, I'm not sure, but I may have been just as tired as my dog. I forced myself to stop the first night and buy groceries and bubble bath. Worth the stop. Hell yes.
I'd forgotten just how cold winter is. It's amazing what spending four winters in North Carolina can do to your memory. I owe a couple of friends a huge Thank You for pushing me to invest in a couple of "winter-wear" purchases. I would never have survived without their insistence on those purchases. For the girls out there in need of warm clothes, find CuddlDuds - you won't be sorry.
I've spent the whole day in my pajamas, and it's snowing outside in MARCH in North Carolina. As much as I want warmer weather, this year is already flying by and I won't be the one to wish it by any faster.
Seriously.
I put in a fair amount of extra hours at the office in the last four weeks, but I did it to feel better about the several months before the new year where I did almost nothing. I'm not stupid enough to not get nervous in these economic times when work slows down, despite the corporate emails I keep getting telling me everything is fine. It makes me 'squishy' when work slows down like that.
I wrapped up my portion of the project at the end of the week two weeks ago, and headed north to Pennsylvania. My friend Molly lives just west of Harrisburg, PA and we share a common loss (brothers), a common love (german shepherds) and the same taste in stupid movies (The Pink Panther!) I have known Molly a long time, but until recently we were fairly distant. My friendship with her now,is so close, she feels like family. We spent a few days together and then I headed to Philadelphia to work with a well known, well respected dog trainer. Is it reasonable to think I'm going to drive to Philly to train dogs on a regular basis? No. Am I considering it? Yep. I've already spent a day re-figuring budgets and yeah it's crazy, but yeah, I might do it anyway. It would really help if I could just win the damn lottery though. Really. Not even the big jackpot is necessary, the little one will do. I'm just putting that out there in case the lottery gods are interested.
My favorite quote of the week in PA came from Molly who as she handed me several bowls of dog food to feed her boarding dogs reminded me to push the bowls 2-3 feet away from the chain link fencing. Why? (Well I'll tell you why, because if you leave the bowls close to the edge the chickens will stick their heads in through the fence holes and the dogs, they will bite their heads right off.
For the record, no chickens were beheaded on my watch.
I stayed in one of those cool studio apartment-hotel rooms in Philadelphia. I LOVE staying in hotels, as long as I have a comfortable bed a four cup coffee maker a microwave and a fridge, I'm all good.
We trained from 10 am til nearly 8pm at night, I'm not sure, but I may have been just as tired as my dog. I forced myself to stop the first night and buy groceries and bubble bath. Worth the stop. Hell yes.
I'd forgotten just how cold winter is. It's amazing what spending four winters in North Carolina can do to your memory. I owe a couple of friends a huge Thank You for pushing me to invest in a couple of "winter-wear" purchases. I would never have survived without their insistence on those purchases. For the girls out there in need of warm clothes, find CuddlDuds - you won't be sorry.
I've spent the whole day in my pajamas, and it's snowing outside in MARCH in North Carolina. As much as I want warmer weather, this year is already flying by and I won't be the one to wish it by any faster.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
The Interview
I asked the lovely L of Just Run Girl fame to interview me. I needed a 'gimmee' post to get back in the swing of blogging again. She very quickly obliged. If I remember correctly, I'm supposed to offer to interview any of my 2 distinguished readers. So if you'd like some interview question sthrown your way, leave me a comment.
1. What's your favorite movie? And if you could watch it with anyone, who would that be?
This is a hard one, I like SO many movies, and for so many different reasons.
Being a homebody with a blockbuster card means I’ve watched a few movies. So, let’s see..
Heathers …. this movie was my first real discovery of both dark humour and Christian Slater.
Bladerunner, I love so much about this movie, the flying cars, the constant rain, Rutger Hauer’s character “Roy”, the idea of replicants.
LadyHawke is probably my favorite lovestory/comedy, ever.
Raging Bull, I was more or less coerced into watching this and was sure I would hate it, I didn’t, not even a little bit.
The Princess Bride and The Three Musketeers (the Kiefer Sutherland version) are both Cravey-comedy favorites. We all needed Billy Crystal to tell us to ‘have fun storming the castle’ and Oliver Platt to point out the appropriate wine choice for a carriage chase.
All that said and done, I think I’d pick Rumble Fish.
On my 16th birthday my big brother took me into DC for a double feature of the two S.E. Hinton novel/movies; The Outsiders and Rumble Fish.
All the way through the Outsiders I was in 16 year old lust with Dallas Winston (played by Matt Dillon) and was swearing I’d never love again. Until Rumble Fish started and I “met” Mickey Rourke.
Hold your groans people, this was hot Mickey Rourke, go check out the move if you don’t believe me. Plus he was the kind of guy I totally fell for, conflicted, angry, possibly violent. Yeah, at 16, I loved that crap. (Thank god I survived it).
Now I could argue why this movie means so much to me and possibly it’d all be crap. It’s possible I only loved it so much because of the circumstances. Bottom line is that might be true. Because if I could watch it again with anyone it would be Mark. No question.
I am going to add in an honorable mention here – to the god awful Natural Born Killers. Yeah, Woody Harrelson and Juliette Lewis on a killing spree. It’s terrible. Yet. I watch it every year on Valentines Day.
Oh YES. Cuz nothing, nothing will make you homicidal like being in love.
2. What's your favorite way to unwind?Unwind from what?
After a work day:
Animals.
About 98% of the time it’s taking my dogs out in the back yard and playing /working with them. I cannot imagine what it would be like to have my entire world revolve around a BALL, but man, it sure looks like fun.
The other 2% of the time (or sometimes in addition to), going horseback riding is on the list. The catching and grooming alone can melt away about 5lbs of stress and tension.
I think riding would rank a higher percentage if I could get there more often, but with the crappy winter daylight hours I just can’t.
After a long run:
A hot bath and big ‘comfort meal’ something involving broccoli and potatoes, and usually, a nap.
3. If you could pick up and go somewhere right now, this minute, where would you go?
Cape Hatteras. ‘Nuff said.
4. Describe a funny/entertaining moment or story from your childhood.
My childhood was a lot of things, but funny/entertaining, I’m not so sure. The story I am about to tell you was not funny when it was happening. (Try picturing it through the eyes of a 8 year old).
Now, it’s hysterically funny to me. This might make me strange..or even sick, but you didn’t say who it had to be funny to.
My dad was a career military man. He retired in the early 80’s a ‘full-bird’ colonel. He had the typical uniform with all the ribbons and badges and things on his left (?) chest panel. One of those things was his name tag. It was something I remember as a little girl watching my dad do, right after coming home from work. He’d head upstairs and take off all the ‘bells and whistles’ they went into a brown ceramic ashtray on his dresser top. The name tag was what I think of now as the old-fashioned kind with the straight pointy-pins on the back and the weird-star-shaped push on nubs.
Well one evening he didn’t go straight upstairs, he poured himself a gin and tonic and sat down in his recliner to drink it. I think he smoked a cigar too. When he got up his nametag tilted wildly, clearly one of the push on nubs had pushed off.
My dad retraced every step he took, searched the car, the carport, the kitchen, the living room and finally the recliner. Quickly he became convinced the chair was the culprit. After turning the chair upside down and still not finding it, he carried the chair out to the front yard. Fascinated, I slipped outside through the side door so I could watch what would happen next. Dad set the chair down in the driveway and went back inside. I stayed hidden behind the camper in the carport, I knew it wasn’t over.
When Dad came back he was carrying an axe.
I watched in silence as my dad methodically destroyed that damn recliner in search of his beloved push on nub.
He reduced that chair to kindling.
And no, he never found the nub.
Even funnier, my mom got home a bit later, got out of her car, studied the pile of kindling, touched the former headrest once, and went inside. She never asked what happened to the chair.
I love my Dad.
5. What's your favorite time of day? Why?I’m going to pick morning for the purpose of this interview. Truthfully, I like daylight hours, and all of them. However, I do love the quiet of mornings, watching the sun come up over the back porch when I’m home. I like the feeling of ‘new’ each morning has. I like the promise of a new day., as goofy and cliché as that sounds.
Follow up questions will be answered. Hell with it, I'm game.
1. What's your favorite movie? And if you could watch it with anyone, who would that be?
This is a hard one, I like SO many movies, and for so many different reasons.
Being a homebody with a blockbuster card means I’ve watched a few movies. So, let’s see..
Heathers …. this movie was my first real discovery of both dark humour and Christian Slater.
Bladerunner, I love so much about this movie, the flying cars, the constant rain, Rutger Hauer’s character “Roy”, the idea of replicants.
LadyHawke is probably my favorite lovestory/comedy, ever.
Raging Bull, I was more or less coerced into watching this and was sure I would hate it, I didn’t, not even a little bit.
The Princess Bride and The Three Musketeers (the Kiefer Sutherland version) are both Cravey-comedy favorites. We all needed Billy Crystal to tell us to ‘have fun storming the castle’ and Oliver Platt to point out the appropriate wine choice for a carriage chase.
All that said and done, I think I’d pick Rumble Fish.
On my 16th birthday my big brother took me into DC for a double feature of the two S.E. Hinton novel/movies; The Outsiders and Rumble Fish.
All the way through the Outsiders I was in 16 year old lust with Dallas Winston (played by Matt Dillon) and was swearing I’d never love again. Until Rumble Fish started and I “met” Mickey Rourke.
Hold your groans people, this was hot Mickey Rourke, go check out the move if you don’t believe me. Plus he was the kind of guy I totally fell for, conflicted, angry, possibly violent. Yeah, at 16, I loved that crap. (Thank god I survived it).
Now I could argue why this movie means so much to me and possibly it’d all be crap. It’s possible I only loved it so much because of the circumstances. Bottom line is that might be true. Because if I could watch it again with anyone it would be Mark. No question.
I am going to add in an honorable mention here – to the god awful Natural Born Killers. Yeah, Woody Harrelson and Juliette Lewis on a killing spree. It’s terrible. Yet. I watch it every year on Valentines Day.
Oh YES. Cuz nothing, nothing will make you homicidal like being in love.
2. What's your favorite way to unwind?Unwind from what?
After a work day:
Animals.
About 98% of the time it’s taking my dogs out in the back yard and playing /working with them. I cannot imagine what it would be like to have my entire world revolve around a BALL, but man, it sure looks like fun.
The other 2% of the time (or sometimes in addition to), going horseback riding is on the list. The catching and grooming alone can melt away about 5lbs of stress and tension.
I think riding would rank a higher percentage if I could get there more often, but with the crappy winter daylight hours I just can’t.
After a long run:
A hot bath and big ‘comfort meal’ something involving broccoli and potatoes, and usually, a nap.
3. If you could pick up and go somewhere right now, this minute, where would you go?
Cape Hatteras. ‘Nuff said.
4. Describe a funny/entertaining moment or story from your childhood.
My childhood was a lot of things, but funny/entertaining, I’m not so sure. The story I am about to tell you was not funny when it was happening. (Try picturing it through the eyes of a 8 year old).
Now, it’s hysterically funny to me. This might make me strange..or even sick, but you didn’t say who it had to be funny to.
My dad was a career military man. He retired in the early 80’s a ‘full-bird’ colonel. He had the typical uniform with all the ribbons and badges and things on his left (?) chest panel. One of those things was his name tag. It was something I remember as a little girl watching my dad do, right after coming home from work. He’d head upstairs and take off all the ‘bells and whistles’ they went into a brown ceramic ashtray on his dresser top. The name tag was what I think of now as the old-fashioned kind with the straight pointy-pins on the back and the weird-star-shaped push on nubs.
Well one evening he didn’t go straight upstairs, he poured himself a gin and tonic and sat down in his recliner to drink it. I think he smoked a cigar too. When he got up his nametag tilted wildly, clearly one of the push on nubs had pushed off.
My dad retraced every step he took, searched the car, the carport, the kitchen, the living room and finally the recliner. Quickly he became convinced the chair was the culprit. After turning the chair upside down and still not finding it, he carried the chair out to the front yard. Fascinated, I slipped outside through the side door so I could watch what would happen next. Dad set the chair down in the driveway and went back inside. I stayed hidden behind the camper in the carport, I knew it wasn’t over.
When Dad came back he was carrying an axe.
I watched in silence as my dad methodically destroyed that damn recliner in search of his beloved push on nub.
He reduced that chair to kindling.
And no, he never found the nub.
Even funnier, my mom got home a bit later, got out of her car, studied the pile of kindling, touched the former headrest once, and went inside. She never asked what happened to the chair.
I love my Dad.
5. What's your favorite time of day? Why?I’m going to pick morning for the purpose of this interview. Truthfully, I like daylight hours, and all of them. However, I do love the quiet of mornings, watching the sun come up over the back porch when I’m home. I like the feeling of ‘new’ each morning has. I like the promise of a new day., as goofy and cliché as that sounds.
Follow up questions will be answered. Hell with it, I'm game.
A rough start
When I was young, and making too much noise with either my friends or my siblings, the warning that we were being too loud was always the same.
My father roaring from the floor below us or the next room over,
"I have had enough of this!"
The subsequent arrival of him in the room was almost unnecessary, that exclamation was enough to shut us all up and keep us quiet for the rest of the afternoon or evening.
I'm hoping that I've got just enough of my dad in me to make that same annoucement and have it run off the seemingly never ending parade of viral and now bacterial infections that have had me swilling cold medicines and running to Urgent Care for strep cultures. I have had enough of this.
Admittedly I am not oozing eye good like some people, but still.
The constant sick has kept me from doing almost everything I like to do, because I am expending all my energy on only what I must do. This is what makes Cravey a very dull, very unhappy girl.
Here's hoping the antibiotics do their job and I can get back to living my life instead of just missing it.
My father roaring from the floor below us or the next room over,
"I have had enough of this!"
The subsequent arrival of him in the room was almost unnecessary, that exclamation was enough to shut us all up and keep us quiet for the rest of the afternoon or evening.
I'm hoping that I've got just enough of my dad in me to make that same annoucement and have it run off the seemingly never ending parade of viral and now bacterial infections that have had me swilling cold medicines and running to Urgent Care for strep cultures. I have had enough of this.
Admittedly I am not oozing eye good like some people, but still.
The constant sick has kept me from doing almost everything I like to do, because I am expending all my energy on only what I must do. This is what makes Cravey a very dull, very unhappy girl.
Here's hoping the antibiotics do their job and I can get back to living my life instead of just missing it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)