Photo: "Inspectorgirl"

A photo with the Bidwell; a special type of paver which pours concrete bridge decks. I inspected all that green steel. Note my four or five layers of sweatshirts. This was in Truckee, in August and September. We'd start at 6 a.m, and it would be about 40 degrees and windy, and by noon, it would be up to 85 or 90 and still, then it would drop back to a cool 70 by 5 p.m. when we were done.

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The Fringe Guys

What would we women do without the guys on the fringes? The men who love us unconditionally even knowing that we will probably never go out with them. The men who see us for who we really are while we are busy chasing the bad boys; the players; the guys who are going to take advantage and then forget about us. But then those men on the fringes... they're the real ones. They aren't poster boys for Chippendales or the firefighter calendar, but they are there for us and we lean on them. The Fringe guys. They prop us up when we are falling apart. They remember our birthdays and the day that our pet passed away. They remember our favorite color and they want to brighten our day almost every day. They love us and when we make excuses for why we won't date them they believe our excuses. They listen to our conscience-easing excuses, and they hope that they can believe the maybe of it. We say maybe and they hear yes when we mean no. And all of that keeps it going round and round, ov...

Photo: "Nikki & Joy Caroling"

This more recent photo of me with Joy is from the office Christmas photo this past Christmas (2004). We had three dogs total in the picture. I cropped everybody else out so I could get a close up, but this picture was awesome! We were all caroling in front of the court house in Auburn.

New Start

Ok, I'm starting off with light, silly stuff. Or, I did. My first post on this blog was a poem I wrote in 1989, when I'd just met the man who would become my husband. Hah! I've not seen him since 1992, and I had not looked at that poem in years, either, but I do like the poem. Life changed for me recently, for the better. I closed the book on a long, drawn-out struggle with "the ex" as I refer to him, which makes people think we were married, though we never were. We were together for nearly eight years, however. Parting was not a sweet sorrow. It was, in fact, neither sweet, nor a sorrow. I left behind a lot of relationships with both people and animals I loved. Not because I wanted to, but because those were the limitations set forth. All in a day, things were.. over . Believe me, I'd like to rant and rave here about the victimizations he perpetrated. But, I am not going to slouch into that same state in which he exists. I won't. I will say ...

Illiterations: Laughing At My Own Expense

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