Nearly everybody I know, or don't know, has a tattoo these days.....For some reason, I have not yet gone to get INKED. I can't say that I would never, but I guess I think I am too fickle. Who knows what I would want!
My philosophy about personally getting a butterfly, is that depending on whether I get fat or skinny, as will the butterfly. I need to get one flexible enough....
So, a friend of mine has some symbol of her Indian Heritage, which is way cool. I am not sure what my heritage is, though.
All I know is that I was either left behind by a Gypsy, or found underneath a cabbage leaf. I still have not determined which is true.
My brother has a tattoo of either Ren or Stimpy, I can't remember which one.
Many people I know have like...crazy barbwire going around their wrist, arm, etc. Another friend has a dolphin (awe...cute). Right?
So, once I pass the Bar exam, I was thinking about maybe the Scales of Justice. Gag me? Yeah, I know. That is just how cool I am NOT.
Cool. Never been, but I hope to become that someday.
If anybody has suggestions, I would appreciate them.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Sunday, March 12, 2006
One Less Armadillo
"To every thing turn, turn, turn....there is a season." (The lyrics to a Byrds song, or for you readers of the Bible, great words of wisdom.)
Yeah. I killed it. I am a big fat murderer. But, there was no premeditation, so it was not a homicide. Okay?
I know, an Armadillo should not be crossing the Interstate when I am driving. The untimely death of the Armadillo that was crossing Interstate-65 when I was driving home tonight brought new meaning to Sammy Haggard's "I can't drive 55." I guess he killed an Armadillo, too.....
The natural tendency for me, and maybe others, I don't know...is when you see something in the interstate you are about to hit is to either swerve, or slam on your brakes. I tried something new tonight, which was to hit the thing straight on.
You see, I work in a law office, as many of you know. People come into the office every day, hurt and mangled. They swerved.
I inherited a great general love for animals, any animals, from my parents. I would prefer a house full of dogs, and cats to people. As it is now, I have a dog and a cat. Not a husband, nor boyfriend. Yeah, my choice, believe it or not people.
I have peacefully lived with my 56lb dog for about three years now, which beats any record I have with living with a human being, since I moved out of my parent's house, that is.
Growing up, I had a German Short haried Pointer, named Pal, who met his demise by a train. Thankfully, my parents allowed me to believe that Pal just "went missing". I think I was maybe 25 when I finally asked them if he got hit by a train. I was glad that they lied to me, of course. But, I will just tell you something, I LOVED that dog.
The dog I currently own, named Roscoe is far from a purebred dog. However, his pedigree (the one I would have if he was) shows his full name as "Sir Roscoe P. Coe Train. (My 11 year old nephew who watches the Duke boy reruns religiously asked me recently where in the world I got the name Roscoe from.) When I confirmed to my young nephew that I had in fact borrowed the name from the Dukes of Hazard, he said first "I KNEW IT" and then, "I didn't know you watch that show." I explained to him that I once watched that show.
Anyway, if you read my dad's blog, you will find that they own some dogs of their own. One of my x-dogs, Emily (it is a long story that involves a shocking story, just kidding), their Rottweiller, Tiny (who is not tiny), and then my brother has this silly looking chihuaha mix named Stinky (don't ask).
My brother also owns a squirrel, who was as an infant abandoned by it's mamma. I will refrain from writing much about the squirrel, because I am the only one he likes to mark. Don't ask me.
Anyway, I have only recently realized that some people don't like dogs. I was in shock the day I discovered it.
One of the guys I used to date, and is still one of my best friends is an avid hunter. I asked him the other day if he enjoyed hunting for the hunt or the kill or both. He told me that it was definitely the kill.
Well, you won't ever catch me out there in the woods killing a deer, although I don't have any oppossition to hunting. I just could not bring myself to do it.
But, God help any human being who tries to mess with me. A bow and arrow, perhaps? Now, there is an idea.
Yeah. I killed it. I am a big fat murderer. But, there was no premeditation, so it was not a homicide. Okay?
I know, an Armadillo should not be crossing the Interstate when I am driving. The untimely death of the Armadillo that was crossing Interstate-65 when I was driving home tonight brought new meaning to Sammy Haggard's "I can't drive 55." I guess he killed an Armadillo, too.....
The natural tendency for me, and maybe others, I don't know...is when you see something in the interstate you are about to hit is to either swerve, or slam on your brakes. I tried something new tonight, which was to hit the thing straight on.
You see, I work in a law office, as many of you know. People come into the office every day, hurt and mangled. They swerved.
I inherited a great general love for animals, any animals, from my parents. I would prefer a house full of dogs, and cats to people. As it is now, I have a dog and a cat. Not a husband, nor boyfriend. Yeah, my choice, believe it or not people.
I have peacefully lived with my 56lb dog for about three years now, which beats any record I have with living with a human being, since I moved out of my parent's house, that is.
Growing up, I had a German Short haried Pointer, named Pal, who met his demise by a train. Thankfully, my parents allowed me to believe that Pal just "went missing". I think I was maybe 25 when I finally asked them if he got hit by a train. I was glad that they lied to me, of course. But, I will just tell you something, I LOVED that dog.
The dog I currently own, named Roscoe is far from a purebred dog. However, his pedigree (the one I would have if he was) shows his full name as "Sir Roscoe P. Coe Train. (My 11 year old nephew who watches the Duke boy reruns religiously asked me recently where in the world I got the name Roscoe from.) When I confirmed to my young nephew that I had in fact borrowed the name from the Dukes of Hazard, he said first "I KNEW IT" and then, "I didn't know you watch that show." I explained to him that I once watched that show.
Anyway, if you read my dad's blog, you will find that they own some dogs of their own. One of my x-dogs, Emily (it is a long story that involves a shocking story, just kidding), their Rottweiller, Tiny (who is not tiny), and then my brother has this silly looking chihuaha mix named Stinky (don't ask).
My brother also owns a squirrel, who was as an infant abandoned by it's mamma. I will refrain from writing much about the squirrel, because I am the only one he likes to mark. Don't ask me.
Anyway, I have only recently realized that some people don't like dogs. I was in shock the day I discovered it.
One of the guys I used to date, and is still one of my best friends is an avid hunter. I asked him the other day if he enjoyed hunting for the hunt or the kill or both. He told me that it was definitely the kill.
Well, you won't ever catch me out there in the woods killing a deer, although I don't have any oppossition to hunting. I just could not bring myself to do it.
But, God help any human being who tries to mess with me. A bow and arrow, perhaps? Now, there is an idea.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Understanding
It has been several days since I have added a post. One of the things my dad mentioned to me when I started blogging is the fact that most people don't keep it up. I enjoy posting every day, not only because so much seems to happen and so many things tick me off, but because my thoughts have an outlet. And, I actually have readers who make it especially rewarding. I have enjoyed chatting with several bloggers across the country, and reading their thoughts.
Reading blogs fulfills my deep seeded desire to peer into other's minds. I can't even begin to tell you the fascinating posts I have read, and how stimulated it has made me.
I am often accused of talking alot. Too much. Yeah. I am a chatter box, and always have been.
For the past few days, I have felt void of anything to share. I have had a rough couple of days. Do other people have those? Yeah, Yeah, I know. Everyone has rough days.
Today was not much better. I sat in front of our network trying to get it to work. Mind you, we have techies under contract that enjoy coming to our office for any and every issue we have, but after all is said and done, our bill knocks the wind out of you. Since I have gone to work in the firm, they have had to deal with the wrath of Sandra. "Well, what was wrong?" "How did you fix it?" "Show me what you did." They hate me. I know it, but frankly don't care. I know that many people hold lawyers in less than high esteem, because of one reason or another. I have heard all of the reasons, believe me.
My dad is a network engineer. I wouldn't have his job to save my life. I thought about him today, when I was saying not too nice words to our network, but I refused to allow a simple problem to continue. He talks numbers and oh, so many foreign languages, computer languages. I really admire what he does. I know that he probably has to deal with crabby people like me who ask a million question, too. The only reason I put our great men under such scrutiny is that I have no confidence in their abilities. Yeah, just like a lawyer, huh? Arrogant? Maybe.
Several years ago, I worked for an engineering firm. My dad was once a QC engineer. Quality Control for all of you out there who don't work for a company who any longer has a QC division...I worked with engineers, and techinically had to actually do some engineering. I hated the engineering part of it. I loved the writing though, so I wrote up reports, and did some things that alot of engineers don't care to do.....such as the "meet and great" sort of stuff. When I was working formulas and trying to work the engineering calculators, I was wishing my dad was there. I hated the engineering part of it, the technical aspect of it. I asked the engineers "how did you get that figure?" "What did you do?" Yeah, I was a pain. But, there is a marked difference in the reason behind my questions then. I was curious, and wanted to know how to do things. I usually ended up having to draw pictures, and work out engineering problems like doing long division. I dare not ever show my sketches to the engineers, though..they probably wouldn't understand.
My dad's career choices have always fascinated me, and for some reason, I am drawn into careers that demand my doing them. Or calling somebody who knows how to do them. After all of my painful questions, I have come to have a sincere respect for what he does for a living.
I remember the agony in grade school math class I suffered with word problems. He would expalin them to me over and over again. Word problems made me cry. For example, if a train left at a certain time at one train station...blah.blah.blah. what time would it arrive at the other station? First of all, at that age, I didn't care. Secondly, it made no sense why anybody would solve those problems with mathematics. I wanted to the practical way to find out. "Call the train station and ask for the estimated time of arrival." It was a good enough answer for me. My dad had the patience of Job when it came to teaching me math.
I think our differences have to be blamed on the fact that I think with the right side of my brain and he with his left brain. He interpreted my answers with me being a smart alec. Maybe I was, but I have always cherished the beauty in exploring a variety of ways to solve problems.
In dealing with the law, you have to apply creative thinking every day, but at the same time be analytical and logical. Okay, okay, no wonder lawyers are such wierdos. Not only do you have to use your right brain (which comes to me naturally), but also your left brain. Give me a break.
So, parents, next time your kid comes home stinking in math, who knows, they may just become a lawyer? OH NO!
Reading blogs fulfills my deep seeded desire to peer into other's minds. I can't even begin to tell you the fascinating posts I have read, and how stimulated it has made me.
I am often accused of talking alot. Too much. Yeah. I am a chatter box, and always have been.
For the past few days, I have felt void of anything to share. I have had a rough couple of days. Do other people have those? Yeah, Yeah, I know. Everyone has rough days.
Today was not much better. I sat in front of our network trying to get it to work. Mind you, we have techies under contract that enjoy coming to our office for any and every issue we have, but after all is said and done, our bill knocks the wind out of you. Since I have gone to work in the firm, they have had to deal with the wrath of Sandra. "Well, what was wrong?" "How did you fix it?" "Show me what you did." They hate me. I know it, but frankly don't care. I know that many people hold lawyers in less than high esteem, because of one reason or another. I have heard all of the reasons, believe me.
My dad is a network engineer. I wouldn't have his job to save my life. I thought about him today, when I was saying not too nice words to our network, but I refused to allow a simple problem to continue. He talks numbers and oh, so many foreign languages, computer languages. I really admire what he does. I know that he probably has to deal with crabby people like me who ask a million question, too. The only reason I put our great men under such scrutiny is that I have no confidence in their abilities. Yeah, just like a lawyer, huh? Arrogant? Maybe.
Several years ago, I worked for an engineering firm. My dad was once a QC engineer. Quality Control for all of you out there who don't work for a company who any longer has a QC division...I worked with engineers, and techinically had to actually do some engineering. I hated the engineering part of it. I loved the writing though, so I wrote up reports, and did some things that alot of engineers don't care to do.....such as the "meet and great" sort of stuff. When I was working formulas and trying to work the engineering calculators, I was wishing my dad was there. I hated the engineering part of it, the technical aspect of it. I asked the engineers "how did you get that figure?" "What did you do?" Yeah, I was a pain. But, there is a marked difference in the reason behind my questions then. I was curious, and wanted to know how to do things. I usually ended up having to draw pictures, and work out engineering problems like doing long division. I dare not ever show my sketches to the engineers, though..they probably wouldn't understand.
My dad's career choices have always fascinated me, and for some reason, I am drawn into careers that demand my doing them. Or calling somebody who knows how to do them. After all of my painful questions, I have come to have a sincere respect for what he does for a living.
I remember the agony in grade school math class I suffered with word problems. He would expalin them to me over and over again. Word problems made me cry. For example, if a train left at a certain time at one train station...blah.blah.blah. what time would it arrive at the other station? First of all, at that age, I didn't care. Secondly, it made no sense why anybody would solve those problems with mathematics. I wanted to the practical way to find out. "Call the train station and ask for the estimated time of arrival." It was a good enough answer for me. My dad had the patience of Job when it came to teaching me math.
I think our differences have to be blamed on the fact that I think with the right side of my brain and he with his left brain. He interpreted my answers with me being a smart alec. Maybe I was, but I have always cherished the beauty in exploring a variety of ways to solve problems.
In dealing with the law, you have to apply creative thinking every day, but at the same time be analytical and logical. Okay, okay, no wonder lawyers are such wierdos. Not only do you have to use your right brain (which comes to me naturally), but also your left brain. Give me a break.
So, parents, next time your kid comes home stinking in math, who knows, they may just become a lawyer? OH NO!
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