I am slightly addicted to the ol' FB. I spend lots of time reading posts and making comments and posting stuff of my own. And I notice when someone's name from my friends list doesn't show up as a link when I attempt to tag them. This happened to me last week and I have been thinking about it off and on for the past couple of days.
I had a mysterious unfriending of/by this person (who I will refer to as Moody McMeany) a couple years ago after some uncomfortable in-person interactions and back then, by the time I realized we weren't FB friends anymore, I wasn't sure who unfriended who (this was before you could stay friends with someone but hide them from your feed). After some hemming and hawing about it, I decided to send a new friend request and it was accepted. We had been friends since then until my surprise last week.
This time, I am absolutely positive Moody McMeany unfriended me. And I have to admit, my feelings were a bit hurt. I also have to admit that I have been trying to make myself not care. But I feel like the person who thinks everything is fine until you don't get an invitation to the birthday party everyone else was invited to. It stings, even if you may not have wanted to go to the party. I have been friendly with Moody and for the most part, we got along fine. Apparently, this wasn't enough to stay friends; no invitation for me.
Moody obviously had a reason to not want to be friends with me anymore (unless this was an accidental unfriending, which I doubt). I don't know what I did- Moody is still friends with many of the people we have as mutual friends. Maybe Moody doesn't like my religious or political post/shares. Maybe my personality rubs the wrong way. Maybe I did something in real life that caused the unfriending. Maybe the last friend request was accepted out of guilt. I truly don't and likely won't ever know and I really don't care. At this point, it would only be a satisfaction of curiosity. And when I really think about this person and how they have treated other people who are both my real life friends and FB friends, I KNOW that I do not want or need to be friends with Moody McMeany on Facebook or in real life. One of my dad's life mottoes is, "Don't surround yourself with vexatious people." Why would I want to be friends with someone I have dubbed McMeany? I wouldn't.
Obviously, we have all unfriended people- we didn't like them anymore, we didn't know them very well, we were tired of incessant posts about whatever (politics, religion, too many puppy and angel pictures or videos, ranting about ranting, they don't post enough or ever). I have done it many times and I guarantee it has been done by people to me. Now, though, there is the option to hide or unsubscribe without unfriending and I have done this more lately. I still want to be FB, and possibly, real life friends with these people but don't want to see every post they make. I can check in when I want and see what I want. I don't have to unfriend them and potentially open a can of worms I may not want to try to close. Obviously, I will unfriend someone if they insult or offend me, but that, for me, would be an unlikely occurrence. In other words, it would take a pretty big altercation/fight/disagreement either on FB or in person for me to unfriend someone. I guess whatever I did to Moody McMeany was pretty bad.
In the end, I really don't care that MM and I aren't FB friends anymore. I had limited contact in real life and we were never actual friends. I was just surprised when I wasn't able to tag and went through the typical "what did I do?" scenarios in my head. In the big scheme of things, it doesn't matter what I did or didn't do to MM; if Facebook didn't exist, I wouldn't be in contact with most of the people who are my online friends. The people who truly matter would be my friends regardless of social networking. I think I'll become addicted to them instead.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Monday, July 9, 2012
Things I Hate Part II
1. The drivers of giant cars who take up 1-2 extra spaces in a parking lot. I know some of these parking spaces are small, but could they at least TRY to not park crooked or over the lines? I have an idea- STOP DRIVING HUGE ASS SUVS AND HUMMERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2. Headaches, of all shapes, sizes, intensities.
3. Work drama.
4. Debt.
5. Misleading directions/instructions. Don't put the words "Hit Start" in the written directions and then not have a start button. Dumb.
6. Dusting.
7. Mealy fruit. Nothing is more disappointing than that first bite of juicy watermelon that ends up tasting like crap.
8. When I am ahead of Shasta in WWF and she makes a 99 point word with the letters "O" and "T".
9. Searching and searching and searching for CHLs and not finding them.
10. Not being rich.
11. Coconut, ribs, sourdough bread, and Dijon mustard.
12. Smooth Jazz.
13. Not being able to have a dog. Right now, I am in love with a toothless, 5 pound, 9 year old dachshund named Candy.
14. The voice of the lady who plays Jo on the TV show Eureka. She always sounds like she needs to clear her throat.
15. Nasty politics.
That is all. :)
2. Headaches, of all shapes, sizes, intensities.
3. Work drama.
4. Debt.
5. Misleading directions/instructions. Don't put the words "Hit Start" in the written directions and then not have a start button. Dumb.
6. Dusting.
7. Mealy fruit. Nothing is more disappointing than that first bite of juicy watermelon that ends up tasting like crap.
8. When I am ahead of Shasta in WWF and she makes a 99 point word with the letters "O" and "T".
9. Searching and searching and searching for CHLs and not finding them.
10. Not being rich.
11. Coconut, ribs, sourdough bread, and Dijon mustard.
12. Smooth Jazz.
13. Not being able to have a dog. Right now, I am in love with a toothless, 5 pound, 9 year old dachshund named Candy.
14. The voice of the lady who plays Jo on the TV show Eureka. She always sounds like she needs to clear her throat.
15. Nasty politics.
That is all. :)
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
TB or not TB...
So, I meant to finish posting about my trip during the second 5 days I had off but I still haven't read the book I bought on procrastination about 5 years ago so...
When we left off, I had gone to bed in the Barstow Motel 6 for a second night, looking forward to day 3 of the trip. Well, as I looked down on my car from the second floor at 8 the next morning, I saw a piece of paper on my windshield, turned face down. I could see the word "low" written; I knew I had a flat tire before my eyes even made it to the ground. My adventures in the Mojave had taken their toll on my left front tire. Now, usually, I would get upset and worry about how the day was ruined and I would never be able to fit in all the landmarks I wanted to see and I would never make it to Bakersfield. instead, I calmly called Triple A and within an hour, I had my spare put on and was in and out of the used tire shop down the street with a $40 dollar used tire. As seemed to be the theme of the trip, I was helped by a very nice and efficient tow truck guy who, in a kind way, strongly suggested I not try to drive to Bakersfield on my spare donut tire. The guys at the tire shop weren't overly friendly but they were efficient and before I knew it, I was on my way west on the 58.
My first stop was in Boron, home of the Open Pit Borax Mine. The world's largest deposit was found at this site and it made the 20 Mule Teams no longer necessary. Thank god for the mules- they would haul borax from Death Valley to Mojave, a 165 mile one-way trip. The pit is a half mile across and 40 stories deep! I visited the little visitor center and watched a cool video on the history of the area and of course, bought a few souvenirs, including a pack of gum whose price sticker read 1.79 cents. Hmmmm.
After my visit, I continued west to California City, a place in the middle of nowhere (read: Barstow and Bakersfield). I read about this place in a book and have wanted to visit for several years. There is nothing particularly special about California City except that is is the third largest city in geographic area in the state. It was also supposed to be a lot more populated when it was begun in 1958. The growth never occurred and there are still paved streets with no houses on the outskirts of town. There is also a desert tortoise protection area on the outskirts of town, which I decided to visit. Unfortunately, I did not spy any tortoises but was shown around by the naturalist/guide, a small man with chapped lips, a leathered face, and gingivitis. I can't remember his name but he was nice and showed me some of the burrows that the torti stay in during the winter. I promised him that I would come back when there was more of a chance to see some of these cool desert dwellers.
On to Mojave, I had lunch at Denny's and found a landmark (#652 Mojave 20-Mule Team Borax Terminus, plaque in front of said Denny's) plus got to spy from afar the Airplane Graveyard. Jamie and Adam from Mythbusters have been here a few times. There are no tours and I read in multiple places that trespassing can get you shot, so I took pix through the fence. Kinda creepy seeing all these giant airplanes that are no longer in use. I would love to go there at night! I continued on Highway 14 south into Rosamond, near Edwards Air Force base. Here I was looking for CHLs 130, Willow Springs and CHL 97, Oak Creek Pass. Willow Springs was hard to find at first due to signage issues but was a neat little place to see once I found it. Oak Creek Pass proved unfindable, as far as a marker. I did, however, drive through it. There was still snow on the sides of the road and multitudes of windmills, the modern kind. Before the railroad was built, this mountain pass was the only thoroughfare from parts north and south.
My next stop was in Tehachapi. I hadn't really thought about the fact that I was climbing in elevation and was pleasantly surprised to see so much snow in the hills and on the buildings! I was unable to find the plaque for CHL 643, Old Town Tehachapi, unfortunately, so I continued towards B'Field. I made a stop in Keene and got to watch a train go through and around the Tehachapi Loop, CHL #508. What a cool sight, especially with the green trees and cows in the foreground. It really is beautiful in this part of California. I also drove into the National Chavez Center, looking for an abandoned TB ward that is mentioned in my Weird California book. Unfortunately, I was unable to find it as I was unsure if I was allowed to wander around the property. This was one of the main things I wanted to see on the trip. Next time!
The day ended at a Motel 6, natch, with Denny's for dinner. The next 2 days would prove to be fruitful and long!
When we left off, I had gone to bed in the Barstow Motel 6 for a second night, looking forward to day 3 of the trip. Well, as I looked down on my car from the second floor at 8 the next morning, I saw a piece of paper on my windshield, turned face down. I could see the word "low" written; I knew I had a flat tire before my eyes even made it to the ground. My adventures in the Mojave had taken their toll on my left front tire. Now, usually, I would get upset and worry about how the day was ruined and I would never be able to fit in all the landmarks I wanted to see and I would never make it to Bakersfield. instead, I calmly called Triple A and within an hour, I had my spare put on and was in and out of the used tire shop down the street with a $40 dollar used tire. As seemed to be the theme of the trip, I was helped by a very nice and efficient tow truck guy who, in a kind way, strongly suggested I not try to drive to Bakersfield on my spare donut tire. The guys at the tire shop weren't overly friendly but they were efficient and before I knew it, I was on my way west on the 58.
My first stop was in Boron, home of the Open Pit Borax Mine. The world's largest deposit was found at this site and it made the 20 Mule Teams no longer necessary. Thank god for the mules- they would haul borax from Death Valley to Mojave, a 165 mile one-way trip. The pit is a half mile across and 40 stories deep! I visited the little visitor center and watched a cool video on the history of the area and of course, bought a few souvenirs, including a pack of gum whose price sticker read 1.79 cents. Hmmmm.
After my visit, I continued west to California City, a place in the middle of nowhere (read: Barstow and Bakersfield). I read about this place in a book and have wanted to visit for several years. There is nothing particularly special about California City except that is is the third largest city in geographic area in the state. It was also supposed to be a lot more populated when it was begun in 1958. The growth never occurred and there are still paved streets with no houses on the outskirts of town. There is also a desert tortoise protection area on the outskirts of town, which I decided to visit. Unfortunately, I did not spy any tortoises but was shown around by the naturalist/guide, a small man with chapped lips, a leathered face, and gingivitis. I can't remember his name but he was nice and showed me some of the burrows that the torti stay in during the winter. I promised him that I would come back when there was more of a chance to see some of these cool desert dwellers.
On to Mojave, I had lunch at Denny's and found a landmark (#652 Mojave 20-Mule Team Borax Terminus, plaque in front of said Denny's) plus got to spy from afar the Airplane Graveyard. Jamie and Adam from Mythbusters have been here a few times. There are no tours and I read in multiple places that trespassing can get you shot, so I took pix through the fence. Kinda creepy seeing all these giant airplanes that are no longer in use. I would love to go there at night! I continued on Highway 14 south into Rosamond, near Edwards Air Force base. Here I was looking for CHLs 130, Willow Springs and CHL 97, Oak Creek Pass. Willow Springs was hard to find at first due to signage issues but was a neat little place to see once I found it. Oak Creek Pass proved unfindable, as far as a marker. I did, however, drive through it. There was still snow on the sides of the road and multitudes of windmills, the modern kind. Before the railroad was built, this mountain pass was the only thoroughfare from parts north and south.
My next stop was in Tehachapi. I hadn't really thought about the fact that I was climbing in elevation and was pleasantly surprised to see so much snow in the hills and on the buildings! I was unable to find the plaque for CHL 643, Old Town Tehachapi, unfortunately, so I continued towards B'Field. I made a stop in Keene and got to watch a train go through and around the Tehachapi Loop, CHL #508. What a cool sight, especially with the green trees and cows in the foreground. It really is beautiful in this part of California. I also drove into the National Chavez Center, looking for an abandoned TB ward that is mentioned in my Weird California book. Unfortunately, I was unable to find it as I was unsure if I was allowed to wander around the property. This was one of the main things I wanted to see on the trip. Next time!
The day ended at a Motel 6, natch, with Denny's for dinner. The next 2 days would prove to be fruitful and long!
Monday, March 26, 2012
I don't need no stinkin' 4 wheel drive!! Wait, yes I do.
So day 2 started with a stop at Starbucks and a drive east on I40. I didn't have any landmarks to find until I was on my way back west but I did stop in a few places for pictures before I ventured into the Mojave Preserve. The scenery is starkly beautiful on this section of road; lava flows, cinder cones, creosote bushes. Hardly anyone lives out here; I stopped for gas in a little place called Newberry Springs that as far as I could tell, consisted only of the gas station, a small nursery, half a dozen abandoned buildings, and a house that looked like a junk yard with a sign painted with the words Swap Meet and an old man sitting in the gravel yard. At one point, I stopped in the emergency lane to take some pictures of one of the cinder cones and as I was getting back in my car, a highway patrolman pulled up behind me. My heart started beating faster as I tried to think of what I had done ie: is it illegal to stop to take pictures on the side of the road? Well, even if it is, Officer Padilla was just making sure I was okay. Thanks, nice policeman!! :) He was one of the many nice and helpful people I met on my trip.
After about 90 minutes, I made it to Kelbaker Road, the southern entry to Mojave. My first destination was the Kelso Dunes: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kelso_Dunes. Known as one of the few sets of sand dunes in the world that make audible noise, I was excited to take a walk up and see what I could hear. Unfortunately, all I heard was the quiet (which wasn't a bad thing in itself.) I laid down in the sand and made a sand angel. I looked in the creosote bushes for lizards and beetles. I kept my eye out for sidewinders. I picked up a handful of sand and let it fall through my fingers. It was a serene and peaceful 30 minutes of my life. (PS- I can't get the damn font off italics- grrr). When I got back to my car, I headed to the Kelso Depot, a neat train station that is also the visitor center for the Preserve. I had been there before, with Jason in 2004 or 5. They have a good but small museum and a great gift shop where I had to spend money, of course. The lady who runs the book shop is a native american woman who lives right in Kelso- the closest groceries, shopping, etc. is in Vegas, at least 90 minutes away!! After my visit, I was ready to head west towards Baker on the I15 and find the 2 landmarks I had set to look for. I stopped for pictures of a huge lava flow and had lunch at Denny's in Baker first; I also stopped in the Alien Fresh Jerky store for the first time and bought some post cards and a refreshing ice cream sandwich. As I headed south towards Barstow, my tire pressure light came on but I wasn't worried. I stopped for a drink at Jimbo's cafe then found my first CHL- the marker for the Mojave Road, # 963. I had to park on the side of the road and go into the rest stop, where the marker is located, by foot; it is closed for renovation! One day, I will rent a 4 wheel drive and actually drive the Mojave Road.
My next destination was Camp Cady. I had some directions: (Location: 24 mi N of Barstow take Harvard Rd off ramp from I-15, turn rt, go .8 mi to Cherokee Rd, turn left and go 2.5 mi and turn rt at second fence line. At end of dirt rd.) As many of you reading this know, these directions led to my brief but scary adventure getting stuck in the sand. I followed the directions which were not hard but somehow I missed the "rt at the second fence line." I ended up a couple miles down the road at Ironwood Christian Camp. I drove around this place for 15 minutes or so and even above the campground looking for a marker, with no luck. Finally, I decided to ask inside Ironwood's office. The nice woman at the front desk knew Camp Cady was nearby however she said that a man named Wayne would be able to give me better directions. He came up and drew me a rudimentary map, with the important words, "Don't try to drive across the river bottom." All I needed to do was go back to the railroad tie fence I had passed up the road, turn left, and park at the top of the hill; the marker was at the bottom of the hill, near the dry river bed. Okay, no problem, I thought. Except that as I left the campgrounds, the pasture for the horses had railroad ties in the fence. I proceeded to drive back and forth around the outside and inside of the camp with no luck for at least 20-30 minutes. One last time, I decided to drive one of Ironwood's roads towards the river and...
Right as I started to realize that the sand was getting pretty deep, I had actually already gone too far. I stopped and put the car in reverse- I don't know how to type the sounds my wheels were making but they weren't the sounds of a Civic releasing itself from the mire. I wasn't panicking yet- I thought, "Oh, I'll just pull forward a little bit to move the wheels and be able to back out." Nope. I. Was. Stuck. You all know I suffer from Panic Disorder. The brief but intense panic I felt when I realized I was truly stuck was real, not due to a chemical imbalance in my brain. It is a scary feeling. Luckily, I had many things in my favor: It was still light out, I had Ironwood's card (don't know why I grabbed it as I will likely never be going to a christian retreat), I was less than 15 minutes walking distance to the Ironwood office, there are at least 6 households in walking distance of where I was, and I have Triple A. I calmed myself down, called the office, and started walking up the hill. The same lady I spoke with in the office earlier said she would send Wayne down with his truck. I met him halfway up the hill, professed my embarrassment, and apologized profusely for messing up his day; I even said I could call Triple A if he didn't have time to help me. Well, help me he did- we drove in his truck to my car, found a metal loop under my bumper, and waited for Joe, the guy with the diesel F1000 or whatever it was that would have the power to move the poor Civic. A giant truck, a chain, a thick canvas harness, and me spinning the wheels in reverse + freedom!
After these super nice and accommodating men helped me out of my predicament, I followed Wayne to the spot at the fence where I needed to turn. I finally had my marker, about an hour later than I should have had it. But I had it. I talked with a lady who lived in one of the houses outside the camp and whose dog had barked at me when I was looking for the marker near her house. I told her what had happened and that I was going to savor the moment. She said that if I walked about 1/2 mile north, I could probably find the cornerstone of the original Camp Cady- I walked a bit around the river bottom but the sun was starting to go down, I had no water, and I was exhausted. I took some pictures then headed back to my poor car using my iPhone compass as a guide (I wasn't lost but felt like I could get lost so...). I crawled back to Barstow (I had planned on being nearer to Bakersfield but...), got Chipoodle for dinner and fell asleep. Oh, I forgot to mention that I did stop at a gas station near Chipotle to fill the tires and the front left was low. Imagine my lack of surprise the next morning when...
After about 90 minutes, I made it to Kelbaker Road, the southern entry to Mojave. My first destination was the Kelso Dunes: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kelso_Dunes. Known as one of the few sets of sand dunes in the world that make audible noise, I was excited to take a walk up and see what I could hear. Unfortunately, all I heard was the quiet (which wasn't a bad thing in itself.) I laid down in the sand and made a sand angel. I looked in the creosote bushes for lizards and beetles. I kept my eye out for sidewinders. I picked up a handful of sand and let it fall through my fingers. It was a serene and peaceful 30 minutes of my life. (PS- I can't get the damn font off italics- grrr). When I got back to my car, I headed to the Kelso Depot, a neat train station that is also the visitor center for the Preserve. I had been there before, with Jason in 2004 or 5. They have a good but small museum and a great gift shop where I had to spend money, of course. The lady who runs the book shop is a native american woman who lives right in Kelso- the closest groceries, shopping, etc. is in Vegas, at least 90 minutes away!! After my visit, I was ready to head west towards Baker on the I15 and find the 2 landmarks I had set to look for. I stopped for pictures of a huge lava flow and had lunch at Denny's in Baker first; I also stopped in the Alien Fresh Jerky store for the first time and bought some post cards and a refreshing ice cream sandwich. As I headed south towards Barstow, my tire pressure light came on but I wasn't worried. I stopped for a drink at Jimbo's cafe then found my first CHL- the marker for the Mojave Road, # 963. I had to park on the side of the road and go into the rest stop, where the marker is located, by foot; it is closed for renovation! One day, I will rent a 4 wheel drive and actually drive the Mojave Road.
My next destination was Camp Cady. I had some directions: (Location: 24 mi N of Barstow take Harvard Rd off ramp from I-15, turn rt, go .8 mi to Cherokee Rd, turn left and go 2.5 mi and turn rt at second fence line. At end of dirt rd.) As many of you reading this know, these directions led to my brief but scary adventure getting stuck in the sand. I followed the directions which were not hard but somehow I missed the "rt at the second fence line." I ended up a couple miles down the road at Ironwood Christian Camp. I drove around this place for 15 minutes or so and even above the campground looking for a marker, with no luck. Finally, I decided to ask inside Ironwood's office. The nice woman at the front desk knew Camp Cady was nearby however she said that a man named Wayne would be able to give me better directions. He came up and drew me a rudimentary map, with the important words, "Don't try to drive across the river bottom." All I needed to do was go back to the railroad tie fence I had passed up the road, turn left, and park at the top of the hill; the marker was at the bottom of the hill, near the dry river bed. Okay, no problem, I thought. Except that as I left the campgrounds, the pasture for the horses had railroad ties in the fence. I proceeded to drive back and forth around the outside and inside of the camp with no luck for at least 20-30 minutes. One last time, I decided to drive one of Ironwood's roads towards the river and...
Right as I started to realize that the sand was getting pretty deep, I had actually already gone too far. I stopped and put the car in reverse- I don't know how to type the sounds my wheels were making but they weren't the sounds of a Civic releasing itself from the mire. I wasn't panicking yet- I thought, "Oh, I'll just pull forward a little bit to move the wheels and be able to back out." Nope. I. Was. Stuck. You all know I suffer from Panic Disorder. The brief but intense panic I felt when I realized I was truly stuck was real, not due to a chemical imbalance in my brain. It is a scary feeling. Luckily, I had many things in my favor: It was still light out, I had Ironwood's card (don't know why I grabbed it as I will likely never be going to a christian retreat), I was less than 15 minutes walking distance to the Ironwood office, there are at least 6 households in walking distance of where I was, and I have Triple A. I calmed myself down, called the office, and started walking up the hill. The same lady I spoke with in the office earlier said she would send Wayne down with his truck. I met him halfway up the hill, professed my embarrassment, and apologized profusely for messing up his day; I even said I could call Triple A if he didn't have time to help me. Well, help me he did- we drove in his truck to my car, found a metal loop under my bumper, and waited for Joe, the guy with the diesel F1000 or whatever it was that would have the power to move the poor Civic. A giant truck, a chain, a thick canvas harness, and me spinning the wheels in reverse + freedom!
After these super nice and accommodating men helped me out of my predicament, I followed Wayne to the spot at the fence where I needed to turn. I finally had my marker, about an hour later than I should have had it. But I had it. I talked with a lady who lived in one of the houses outside the camp and whose dog had barked at me when I was looking for the marker near her house. I told her what had happened and that I was going to savor the moment. She said that if I walked about 1/2 mile north, I could probably find the cornerstone of the original Camp Cady- I walked a bit around the river bottom but the sun was starting to go down, I had no water, and I was exhausted. I took some pictures then headed back to my poor car using my iPhone compass as a guide (I wasn't lost but felt like I could get lost so...). I crawled back to Barstow (I had planned on being nearer to Bakersfield but...), got Chipoodle for dinner and fell asleep. Oh, I forgot to mention that I did stop at a gas station near Chipotle to fill the tires and the front left was low. Imagine my lack of surprise the next morning when...
Friday, March 23, 2012
And I would drive 500 + 1000 miles...
Day One: San Diego to Barstow
I left Lakeside at 9am, driving in the rain that I hoped would not be happening in the Riverside/San Bernardino area. I stopped at the AM/PM in Lake Elsinore as I always do when driving up the 15- potty break and diet coke. I always get sleepy about 90 minutes into any road trip and need the caffeine to perk me up. The skies were relatively clear as I headed towards Corona to look for some landmarks I have looked for before and been unable to find. Well, I found 1 of the 5 I was looking for- # 638, Old Temescal Road; of course the plaque was missing but I still took pictures to prove I was there. Numbers 187, Carved Indian Rock, 224, site of third Serrano adobe, 188, Butterfield Stage Station site, and 185, Serrano Boulder, were still unfindable. Next time...
After finding #638, I began to punch the address of the next place into my Garmin when the screen died. This happened on the last trip but the screen started working again and was working until this point on this trip. I messed with the plug but no luck so I detoured to Best Buy and plunked down $161 for a new Garmin Nuvi. I know you will ask- why not use a GPS app on my new iPhone? Well, I don't want to use up my Gs and I need a GPS that mounts on my windshield. Both my Nuvis have been invaluable on these trips. I need the audible directions to get me where I want to go. My next stop was CHL # 1019, the Kimberly Crest Mansion. I paid $10 for the tour of this late 1800s house that was owned by Mr. Kimberly of the Kimberly-Clark company (Kleenex, Huggies). It is a great house, with Tiffany lamps, priceless paintings, and fabulous Victorian furniture. By this time, it had started raining, and I headed off to find a few more places before I headed to Barstow.
I spent a couple hours driving around Redlands, Colton, San Bernardino, and Loma Linda: I found CHL #s: 95- Guachama Mission Station, 44- Old Mormon Fort site, 977- The Arrowhead. Agua Mansa, # 121, was closed but I got some pix through the fence. I could not find Fort Benson, # 617. I did find the former home (not a CHL) of Virgil Earp, Wyatt's brother and the Redland's fire station #1. Whoopee!! I could tell at this point that the rain was not going to let up and I still needed to drive over the Cajon Pass. It was windy, rainy, and I think it even snowed a little bit! I drove S L O W and made it over the hill. The snow in the mountains up high with the Mormon rocks in the foreground is a beautiful sight. I glanced to my left at one point and saw a train carrying tanks! I made it to Barstow around dinner time, got a room at Motel 6, and headed to IHOP for dinner and route planning for the next day. It was on to the Mojave desert...
Day 2 tomorrow.
PS- DO NOT order IHOP's Grilled Basalmic Glazed chicken breast. The chicken "breast" was nasty- looked like "parts is parts" and very gristley. Gross.
PPS- one of my favorite things to do when I spend the night in a motel is to watch Adult Swim while I take a bath (if they have a tub)! I know, I am weird.
I left Lakeside at 9am, driving in the rain that I hoped would not be happening in the Riverside/San Bernardino area. I stopped at the AM/PM in Lake Elsinore as I always do when driving up the 15- potty break and diet coke. I always get sleepy about 90 minutes into any road trip and need the caffeine to perk me up. The skies were relatively clear as I headed towards Corona to look for some landmarks I have looked for before and been unable to find. Well, I found 1 of the 5 I was looking for- # 638, Old Temescal Road; of course the plaque was missing but I still took pictures to prove I was there. Numbers 187, Carved Indian Rock, 224, site of third Serrano adobe, 188, Butterfield Stage Station site, and 185, Serrano Boulder, were still unfindable. Next time...
After finding #638, I began to punch the address of the next place into my Garmin when the screen died. This happened on the last trip but the screen started working again and was working until this point on this trip. I messed with the plug but no luck so I detoured to Best Buy and plunked down $161 for a new Garmin Nuvi. I know you will ask- why not use a GPS app on my new iPhone? Well, I don't want to use up my Gs and I need a GPS that mounts on my windshield. Both my Nuvis have been invaluable on these trips. I need the audible directions to get me where I want to go. My next stop was CHL # 1019, the Kimberly Crest Mansion. I paid $10 for the tour of this late 1800s house that was owned by Mr. Kimberly of the Kimberly-Clark company (Kleenex, Huggies). It is a great house, with Tiffany lamps, priceless paintings, and fabulous Victorian furniture. By this time, it had started raining, and I headed off to find a few more places before I headed to Barstow.
I spent a couple hours driving around Redlands, Colton, San Bernardino, and Loma Linda: I found CHL #s: 95- Guachama Mission Station, 44- Old Mormon Fort site, 977- The Arrowhead. Agua Mansa, # 121, was closed but I got some pix through the fence. I could not find Fort Benson, # 617. I did find the former home (not a CHL) of Virgil Earp, Wyatt's brother and the Redland's fire station #1. Whoopee!! I could tell at this point that the rain was not going to let up and I still needed to drive over the Cajon Pass. It was windy, rainy, and I think it even snowed a little bit! I drove S L O W and made it over the hill. The snow in the mountains up high with the Mormon rocks in the foreground is a beautiful sight. I glanced to my left at one point and saw a train carrying tanks! I made it to Barstow around dinner time, got a room at Motel 6, and headed to IHOP for dinner and route planning for the next day. It was on to the Mojave desert...
Day 2 tomorrow.
PS- DO NOT order IHOP's Grilled Basalmic Glazed chicken breast. The chicken "breast" was nasty- looked like "parts is parts" and very gristley. Gross.
PPS- one of my favorite things to do when I spend the night in a motel is to watch Adult Swim while I take a bath (if they have a tub)! I know, I am weird.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Picking Battles
I recently read this little article in a magazine I get called The Week. It is called "The making of gay marriage's greatest foe." This is what it says:
Maggie Gallagher has a very personal reason for her fight against gay marriage, said Mark Oppenheimer on salon.com. While studying at Yale in the early 1980's, she became pregnant with her boyfriend's child. When Gallagher broke the news to him, he vanished. "The last thing he said was, 'I'll be back in 30 minutes.' And then he wasn't." If that sophomore had stuck around and helped raise their son, Patrick, her life would have taken a very different path. " I became a writer because I had a baby and had to make money." What she writes and campaigns about is the threat same-sex marriage poses to America. Her problem isn't with homosexuality; it's that "children need a mom and a dad." In 2008, she led the effort to pass California's ballot initiative banning gay marriage, and in 2009 helped repeal a same-sex marriage law in Maine. For Gallagher, gay marriage is the ultimate symbol of the sexual revolution, which she blames for her own unplanned pregnancy and failed relationship. "[As] a girl, I was taught [to] separate sex from reproduction," she says. "Same-sex marriage is the end point, the institutionalization of this view of sex and marriage, and it is false."
Wow. So this woman is taking her anger and disappointment and frustration that resulted from being dumped after being knocked up out on gay people who want to be married? And she is not taking responsibility for her actions that led to an unplanned baby? I am so confused and baffled by her logic I have a hard time even being mad at her for attacking the civil rights of a group of people who ARE NOT a threat to her or anyone else for that matter. She says kids need a mom and a dad. I don't completely disagree; it is best when children have 2 parents; I just don't think they need to be a mom and a dad. My friends Courtney and Katie are fantastic, wonderful, loving parents to their son Atti. I have read many stories about kids who grow up with 2 dads and have balanced, happy lives. I remember watching that teenager a few months ago get up in front of his state's government and give a moving speech about his moms and what a strong, loving upbringing he and his sister had. And then I read stories like the one about Josh Powell murdering (I know, there is no body but...) his wife and then his sons. Those boys had a mom and a dad. Susan Smith's kids had a mom and a dad. Andrea Yates was married to her kids' dad when she drowned them in the bathtub. It isn't the sex of parents that matters; it is their character, their support, their stability (financially, emotionally, mentally, etc), their love, their care, their hugs and kisses, their very presence. Gay or straight does not and should not matter.
Maggie Gallagher blames the sexual revolution, I assume of the 1970s, for her unfortunate situation. I blame her (I realize I do not know the circumstances of her pregnancy ie: broken condom, failed BC pill, no BC?) and her then-boyfriend. I blame her for using her emotions to discriminate. I blame her lack of coping skills. I blame her parents for teaching her that sex and reproduction were separate things. Gay people did not cause her single parenthood; she and her boyfriend and her misunderstood ideas about how babies are made did.
She says she has no problem with homosexuality but it is obvious that she does. Not with the fact that gay people have sex with the same sex but with them being parents. Would she rather foster children who would potentially be adopted by 2 men or women stay in foster care with no parents? Would she rather 18 year old foster kids exiting the system have NO support? I guess she would. Would she wish that on her now-adult son Patrick? I wonder how he feels about his mom's fight against human rights. I wonder if he agrees with her. I hope not.
Maggie Gallagher has a very personal reason for her fight against gay marriage, said Mark Oppenheimer on salon.com. While studying at Yale in the early 1980's, she became pregnant with her boyfriend's child. When Gallagher broke the news to him, he vanished. "The last thing he said was, 'I'll be back in 30 minutes.' And then he wasn't." If that sophomore had stuck around and helped raise their son, Patrick, her life would have taken a very different path. " I became a writer because I had a baby and had to make money." What she writes and campaigns about is the threat same-sex marriage poses to America. Her problem isn't with homosexuality; it's that "children need a mom and a dad." In 2008, she led the effort to pass California's ballot initiative banning gay marriage, and in 2009 helped repeal a same-sex marriage law in Maine. For Gallagher, gay marriage is the ultimate symbol of the sexual revolution, which she blames for her own unplanned pregnancy and failed relationship. "[As] a girl, I was taught [to] separate sex from reproduction," she says. "Same-sex marriage is the end point, the institutionalization of this view of sex and marriage, and it is false."
Wow. So this woman is taking her anger and disappointment and frustration that resulted from being dumped after being knocked up out on gay people who want to be married? And she is not taking responsibility for her actions that led to an unplanned baby? I am so confused and baffled by her logic I have a hard time even being mad at her for attacking the civil rights of a group of people who ARE NOT a threat to her or anyone else for that matter. She says kids need a mom and a dad. I don't completely disagree; it is best when children have 2 parents; I just don't think they need to be a mom and a dad. My friends Courtney and Katie are fantastic, wonderful, loving parents to their son Atti. I have read many stories about kids who grow up with 2 dads and have balanced, happy lives. I remember watching that teenager a few months ago get up in front of his state's government and give a moving speech about his moms and what a strong, loving upbringing he and his sister had. And then I read stories like the one about Josh Powell murdering (I know, there is no body but...) his wife and then his sons. Those boys had a mom and a dad. Susan Smith's kids had a mom and a dad. Andrea Yates was married to her kids' dad when she drowned them in the bathtub. It isn't the sex of parents that matters; it is their character, their support, their stability (financially, emotionally, mentally, etc), their love, their care, their hugs and kisses, their very presence. Gay or straight does not and should not matter.
Maggie Gallagher blames the sexual revolution, I assume of the 1970s, for her unfortunate situation. I blame her (I realize I do not know the circumstances of her pregnancy ie: broken condom, failed BC pill, no BC?) and her then-boyfriend. I blame her for using her emotions to discriminate. I blame her lack of coping skills. I blame her parents for teaching her that sex and reproduction were separate things. Gay people did not cause her single parenthood; she and her boyfriend and her misunderstood ideas about how babies are made did.
She says she has no problem with homosexuality but it is obvious that she does. Not with the fact that gay people have sex with the same sex but with them being parents. Would she rather foster children who would potentially be adopted by 2 men or women stay in foster care with no parents? Would she rather 18 year old foster kids exiting the system have NO support? I guess she would. Would she wish that on her now-adult son Patrick? I wonder how he feels about his mom's fight against human rights. I wonder if he agrees with her. I hope not.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Things I Hate (yes, I am crabby)
I hate those assholes who drive their jacked-up giant trucks up your ass on a 2 lane highway when you are already going 5-10 MPH over the speed limit. Inconsiderate, dangerous, and immature. Get over your small penis and back off.
I hate when important changes are recommended by an authority and those who are paying for these recommendations do NOTHING with them.
I hate it when people do not take responsibility for their actions. I hate it when people develop such large heads, they look like Macy's Parade balloons. I hate it when people sign a waiver or an agreement or a contract and then argue about what they signed, even while admitting they didn't read before inking a signature on a legal document.
I hate watching a predator catch and kill its prey on a nature show. I am all for the circle of life, but it breaks my heart to watch and animal be so scared for its life.
I hate that I habitually buy fruits and vegetables that go bad before I eat them. Especially grapes, strawberries, and Fresh and Easy butter lettuce. It stops tonight.
I hate when I see something that I am not meant to see, which I see through no fault of my own, which then makes me feel icky for the rest of the night. And I hate that the person/people who leave what is meant to be private/discreet/hidden, out for everyone to see.
I hate political ads that attack opponents. How about an ad that simply tells me what you are going to do for the country and its citizens? Is it really that hard? It would probably save a shitload of money as well.
I hate that Tom Fudge, and before him, Duane Brown, both KPBS reporters, cannot get through a single day's broadcast without stumbling over words, flubbing someone's name, or sounding totally distracted. Drives. Me. Fucking. Bananas.
Have I mentioned before that I hate cart leavers? Lazy asses...
I hate that I snore. I hate that I am overweight. I hate that I don't have kids. I hate that I am in debt. I hate that my mother worries about me (cause it is my fault).
I hate that I am grumpy but I feel better now. Thanks for listening. Tomorrow: Things I Love
I hate when important changes are recommended by an authority and those who are paying for these recommendations do NOTHING with them.
I hate it when people do not take responsibility for their actions. I hate it when people develop such large heads, they look like Macy's Parade balloons. I hate it when people sign a waiver or an agreement or a contract and then argue about what they signed, even while admitting they didn't read before inking a signature on a legal document.
I hate watching a predator catch and kill its prey on a nature show. I am all for the circle of life, but it breaks my heart to watch and animal be so scared for its life.
I hate that I habitually buy fruits and vegetables that go bad before I eat them. Especially grapes, strawberries, and Fresh and Easy butter lettuce. It stops tonight.
I hate when I see something that I am not meant to see, which I see through no fault of my own, which then makes me feel icky for the rest of the night. And I hate that the person/people who leave what is meant to be private/discreet/hidden, out for everyone to see.
I hate political ads that attack opponents. How about an ad that simply tells me what you are going to do for the country and its citizens? Is it really that hard? It would probably save a shitload of money as well.
I hate that Tom Fudge, and before him, Duane Brown, both KPBS reporters, cannot get through a single day's broadcast without stumbling over words, flubbing someone's name, or sounding totally distracted. Drives. Me. Fucking. Bananas.
Have I mentioned before that I hate cart leavers? Lazy asses...
I hate that I snore. I hate that I am overweight. I hate that I don't have kids. I hate that I am in debt. I hate that my mother worries about me (cause it is my fault).
I hate that I am grumpy but I feel better now. Thanks for listening. Tomorrow: Things I Love
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