The Cricket Song....

A southern night just wouldn't be a southern night without the sound of crickets filling the air. At times I find their performance annoying, mainly when I am trying to hear something and can't over their screams. However, for the most part, I find them comforting.

Late at night, I will hear them after the television dies and the air conditioner kicks off. That silent moment when your supposed to be sleeping. Thousands of them chirping in perfect rythme. I always find myself returning to a 13 year old girl sitting at her raised bedroom window blowing the smoke outside from a stolen ciggarette. I used to love their song then, too. It was there that I had planned my entire life. Made myself promises and vowed to be someone, while the crickets played on.

Now many moons later, I still find myself making new promises to myself in that early morning hour listening to the cricket's serenade. I also tally up what old promises I have yet to fulfill and restablish their importance. What a wonderful thing the crickets have given me. Crickets- the soundtrack of my life.

Man in the Mirror

Michael Jackson. Funny how different that name looks with dates behind it. Whats even more errie to me is how my feelings toward the man suddenly changed when those dates were added. I have never considered myself a Michael Jackson fan and in all honesty found great joy in making fun of the man and his oddness.
Perhaps it is the endless television coverage that has changed my feelings but whatever it is, it worked. I have been reintroduced to Michael Jackson the musical genuis. The man that has been forgotten due to the elephant man and child molestion cases. It had been many moons since I actually seen the MJ from my childhood and seeing his old videos streaming across the screen reminds me of why he was such a big deal.
I was just a child, around 6, when Michael hit it big. Although I never viewed myself as having any connection with Michael Jackson because I was so young, I now realize that I did. My older cousins were of that Michael Jackson and Madonna era where the girls wore the massive amounts of bracelets with heavy bright makeup and the guys wore that all familiar red zippered jacket. I do remember slipping on my cousin's red jacket and trying to moonwalk across the floor. Never could, but boy did I try.
I almost feel like the world has missed out on a great event, knowing that his tour will never happen.
Rest in Peace Michael, Thanks for the memories......

Yearbooks and The Trauma They Cause

I have now learned a very important lesson, it is wise to hide your old yearbooks from those who didn't go to school with you. For those books that you once waited anxiously for an entire year, is now the culprit that is sure to bring you down a notch. Most folks know this, this is the reason it is the first book they reach for on your bookshelf, they know it will be humilating."NO! You can't look at that!" You scream fully aware that you are acting like a child "Thats mine!"Of course, they snatch it back the second you look away. Then you have to spend an hour defending yourself, even though you know there really isn't any excuse to explain your 3 foot high bangs and M.C. Hammer pants. And heaven forbid they snatch an earlier one with you smiling like a complete moron in your New Kids on the Block T-shirt.Oh yeah, you start grasping straws to protect your present image "I had just gotten out of P.E.", or you find a classmate who was a little more pathetic than you (by mere inches, mind you) and draw the attention to them.Soon after, you decide to just burn the proof of your "coolness" so that it wil never bring you shame again. But what would the point when there are dozens of old classmates with the same book lining their shelves. Hmmm...I wonder if any of them b*****s ever used ME as the deter, "Hey, if you think I looked funny, check out this chick Donna, she had a rats nest for bangs." I'll have you to know, Its called TEASING one's hair and it was quite popular in those days!

Run, Bandit, Run!

After reading my prior blog, I decided that I had another "Bandit" story to share. For those in the dark, Bandit is my next door neighbor's golden retriever and while Bandit is a pretty common name for pets, this name totally fits this particular pooch. I usually refer to him as the Al Capone of the canines basically because he is a menace to anything that moves. Bandit has never been a believer in that old adage of "Pick on somebody your own size", he will chase anything no matter if its bigger or smaller than himself. However, Bandit is really a good hearted chap, he never chases to inflict injury, he merely chases and nipples playfully. Honestly, he has to be the most playful dog I have ever encountered.
Now, I touched earlier on the animal situation at my adobe, but what I did not mention was the massive overflow of cats that is here. I have never seen so many cats in my entire life. The little boggers are everywhere you look. So it was only natural for Bandit to harass them. He would chase them down then slobber all of over them. I guess the cats would see Bandit as a annoyance. I mean, picture yourself stretched out under a shade tree minding your own business then all of the sudden, this big blur of orange fur comes running at you. Yes, Bandits days were being counted. The cats were planning a revolt.
That day came on a sunny afternoon as my neighbors were cooking out. Out of boredom, and their constant urging, I sat with them for a while chit chating. Bandit was being his normal self chasing a black kitten named "11:30" (They named him this because he was pitch black except for a small patch of brown on his leg, at birth he had been named Midnight, when the brown showed up, they changed it to 11:30.) Well, 11:30 wasn't putting up much of a fight, so Bandit got bored and set his scope on the gray tomcat "BooBoo". Now, I know BooBoo very well, and BooBoo don't play. BooBoo keeps to himself and has never been interested in making friends, that was why i was rather surprised that Bandit would try to play cowboy and indians with him. Just when I started to think that BooBoo had a heart after all, I watched and listened as he made a devilish hiss and sunk both front paws into Bandit's cheeks. Of course, Bandit, after being stunned began to yelp. This must has attracted the other cats because the next thing you know a whole slew of them are running across the yard toward the fight, eager to also take a bite out of the bandit. Poor Bandit was covered in felines out for revenge. My neighbor began yelling, hoping to break it up, but they would not retreat, they were on a mission, and even us humans were afraid to intervene. All of the sudden, my neighbor stands up and in fear yells, very loud might I add "For the love of God, Run Bandit Run!" Bandit merely whimpers. Someone yells "Get the water hose" and before you know it the massive fur ball is being soaked, and cats start running for their lives in every direction. By miracle, Bandit was not severly hurt but he did have his battle wounds. But the cats did succeed in their task, Bandit no longer chases the cats. I think they made it clear how that felt about his surprise attacks.

Three Little Pigs

There is only ONE thing that my next door neighbors and I have in common and that is the fact that we are animal lovers. Hell, I even got my cat from them. Just one of about 56 kittens born by their cat ho "Piper." They are constantly getting new puppies, dogs, and cats who always end up being just as much my pets as theirs. Nope, it doesn't bother me in the least to pull up in the mornings to a group of dogs wagging their tails pleaing insanely for a pat on the head. It is also very common to find a new dog amongst them.
That is why about a week ago, I was not surprised to see 3 new black puppies wandering around the yard being chased by the golden retriever "Bandit". I paid the group little attention. Bandit has always been the "bully" of the pack and I figured they just needed to get used to it since they were dogs and all, Bandit learned long ago to not mess with the cats.
Every morning the new pups would watch me as I went from the car to my door but would never approach. I suppose this morning they deemed me "safe" and wanted to make contact, because as soon I opened the car door, I saw three little black heads make their way around the side of my car. I admit I was too was eager to make their acquaintince. So, I made my way toward them and then stopped in shock then bellowed "Your a d***n pig!" All three stood beside one another just looking at me twisting their little snouts as they sniffed the air. They were an adorable trio, but they were still pigs and I had never actually had a head on confrontation with a pig before so I was rather unsure of how to proceed. Of course, me being the genuis that I am, I began to talk to the little critters to keep from "hurting their feelings". "I would pet you, but I'm not sure if you should actually pet pigs, not that I have anything against pigs or anything, this is just a new experience for me and all." They still just stared at me. "Do any of you guys bite or anything, I mean if I tried to pet you would you attack me or something?" After a couple of minutes of me chit chatting with the pigs, I realized that my neighbor had been listening to me all along from his bedroom window cause all of the sudden, I heard him hollar out "Donna, they don't speak English." Of course I felt my face turn red from embarrasment, this had been one of those private moments that you hoped no one would learn about, so it was a mixture of embarassment and nervousness that caused me to respond with the ever clever "Well, I was just asking them cause I wanted them to understand that I wasn't being mean by not petting them." My neighbor insulted my pride even more by laughing hysterically and shouting "Just pet the d**n pigs, they won't bite you!".

The Monthly "Gift"

I have always prided myself on the fact that I was different than other women, due to the fact that during my monthly visits, I never cramped, or had mood swings. Yes, I saw myself as special, above all the others. I was something great.
Then all of the sudden, IT happened. It kinda frightened me at first, that first time I found myself plotting a coworker's death because she drank the last cup of tea. Something was happening, strange things were amiss. Everyone was just plain disguisting. Out of the blue I noticed another co-workers ugly shoes and it pissed me off. How dare she come into my presence with such wretched footwear. And yet another had a tiny bleach stain on her scrub top, further enraging me. Pitiful people, I am tired of people running over ME like that! Drinking all the tea and then forcing me to stare at bleach stains...I'm just tired of it!
Then comes the next phase, the "poor pitiful me" stage. Where I spend an hour feeling sorry for myself and how cruel people treat me. I'm just too nice, I just care too much about other people. I am a saint and everyone else is just plain evil. I shutter to think how the world would cope without me to shed kindness to the masses. And it is THEN that the worse occurs.
I decide that I am done with being so nice and sweet while everyone treats me like dirt. I will defend myself and my perfection. I become a total bitch. "Was that tea good?" I ask with a snarl "I hope so, since you seem to think you are the only one here who needs something to drink." To which the other replies "Oh, Donna, I'm sorry, I thought you were drinking your Pepsi." I grip my FULL Pepsi bottle to keep from choking her neck, Now she's trying to get smart, pointing out my Pepsi like that, I better just end this conversation before we start fist fighting. "No, No, Its okay" I mouth as I walk off "Your the only human that needs hydration to survive."
So I guess, I have now lost that wonderful trait that made me so special. I have joined the ranks of other PMS physcos. I am woman, hear me roar....

Why is Everyone Trying To Kill Me?

I have an obsession. True Crime. I love it. Don't ask me why, but I just get a rush out of watching/ reading the stories. I am always fascinated by how they solve the crimes. My favorite part is predicting the outcomes which often I get it right.
However, as much as I love it, I do have to limit myself because they also make me paranoid as hell. I can always tell when I need to slack off a bit because the thought "I wonder if so-so is trying to poison me or something....she stood beside my glass for a while then I started feeling weird after I drank it" enters my mind. Then I start to remind myself of other "poisoners" profiles I had read. Lets see....they were a little standoffish..Oh hell, so is she. They were a little shy and not one for direct confrontations...Yet another charecristic she has...they had a way of being sneaky...she is a sneaky as a snake..Thats it! That Bitch is trying to kill me. How dare she, she must think I'm stupid. Good thing I watch Court TV, or I would've never even known (this is an attempt to convience myself that watching Court TV is actually good for me and a habit I must keep). Then I find myself holding all my cups within her presence. Look at her, shes beside herself now..just hoping I'll put my cup down so she can sneak some arsenic in it.
Yeah, thats when I know its time to cool it with the True Crime stuff. Either that, or check myself into a looney bin.