** Who's the BOSS??

Back from the vacation cruise to Belize, Isla Roatan and Cozumel, YAY!! It was a wonderful trip despite the fact that I found out that I **may** now be allergic to lobster  and I am never gonna be able to scuba, snooba or successfully ride a BOSS underwater scooter. I won't be able to see live, fresh fishies in their natural environment several feet down because, when I put something over my face and start to submerge, something in my head screams, "WTF are you DOING putting a big metal bulb on your head under the surface of the water??!!!?? You're gonna DIE, you're gonna go DOWN and you're gonna DROWN!!! GET THE HELL BACK TO THE SURFACE NOW, YOU #*@!% MORON!!!!" 

And....that's the end of the Honduras Island Boss Underwater Adventure for me. (*Cha-ching!* That'll be $120, please!!) 

Jeff has footage of me in non-panic mode for the first 15 seconds and switches the filming off right as I'm about to have my meltdown, lol, right when I'm saying, "Fine, okay, I'm fine, Mr. scuba guy, I'm fine, fine, just fine, okay, okay, okay...." (*thumbs up sign*) 4, 3, 2, 1...."Um, no, on second thought, I'm NOT fine....Um, NOT FINE!!?! (*frantic "so-so" hand movements begin*) CAN YOU SEE MY HAND WIGGLING IN THE DISTRESS SIGNAL?? OMG, NO, YOU CAN'T!!! NOT FINE!!! I'M NOT FINE AND NOW I'M GONNA GET MY SWIMSUIT STUCK ON THIS THING TRYING TO GET OUT and I'm gonna DIE! OH, CRAP, OH, CRAP!! NOT FINE!! HOW DO I GET OUT???!! Look at my hand wiggle?!!! OMG, OMG, OMG!! LOOK AT MY HAND WIGGLE!!!" 
Funny how your rational mind can know, absolutely KNOW, that you aren't in danger and your lizard brain sez, "Oh, HELLLL, no, honey child, you are NOT gonna do that today!!"  Apparently, I am NOT the BOSS of my own life, as I formerly believed.  The incident has bemused me since it happened and I don't know if I ever want to challenge the lizard brain again.  (She's kinda tough and wears army boots....)

Needless to say, I got out alive, though they all tried hard to kill me. And, I went on to have a wonderful vacay full of endless chocolate martinis. (Cue "The Love Boat" theme song, here.) It's good to be back..... 

Jeff and friends, riding death-scooters...
with tiny little shrunken heads....

** Me and the Pope-Guy **

How funny. Jeff is at the airport in Ft. Lauderdale and got 'randomly' pulled over into the cavity search area at security....again. They pulled him over on his way there, too. (Ha-HAH!!! It's YOUR turn, mister! Who's laughing now?)

I personally think that it's about time for him to get the royal treatment because they always seem to throw ME into the little fenced off area of shame. Because I look like a terrorist. Is it the book that I'm carrying? My yoga pants and comfy top? My sandals? I swear, for the longest time, I would look at myself in the airport restroom mirror afterward and just say, "WHAT??" What is it about me that makes them want to pull me over? I'm blonde, nearly middle aged (shut up), have brown eyes and I don't wear my flak jacket to the airport. I even had one lady in Newark PAT MY HAIR DOWN and I SWEAR, my hair was not that big that day; it was all tamed into a ponytail until this lady finished with it. After she'd floofed it up and I started scowling at her in an unfriendly manner for pulling my hair, only THEN did I look like a terrorist.

Definitely NOT a terrorist.

I asked her why I always seemed to get pulled over and she looked at me with a really bored look and said that "it was a random thing." I didn't believe her until one time when we were on our way to France. And, they pulled over the Pope. Not kidding. 

Okay, maybe he wasn’t the Pope but he was the next best thing.  There I was, sitting there in the little corral, waiting for them to come and shake me down, wondering where I could hide my brass knuckles and feeling slightly sheepish, when who should come walking down the little cavity search chute but the Pope’s right hand man.  I swear to God, this guy was decked out in a black robe with red piping, a big red sash, some sort of little black matching shoulder throw, with tons of buttons down every seam and a little cap on the top of his head.  He had a monster sized wooden cross hanging from what looked like several chains and a bell pull around his neck and had a big ole Little Bo Peep stick thing.  Of a moderate height and middle age, he had dark hair, a craggy nose, tanned leather skin and big, brown deep-set eyes.  He looked EXTREMELY Italian and could’ve walked right off of a movie set.  

He walked up and, even though there were about 10 other seats in the shakedown corral, most of them empty, he sat down right to the right of me.  I kinda chuckled and said, “Well, I don’t feel so bad, now…I mean, they got YOU, right??!”  He just gently smiled at me and I realized that he probably didn’t speak English.  (Either that or he was pretending not to in order to avoid the pesky terrorist in cavity-search central.  But, that would be kinda like lying and those pope-looking kinda folks don’t do that, right?  Right???)  He did not speak English.    

After that, he was really quiet.  I began to get a little nervous and my mind started racing.  Had I offended the pope guy?  Was God mad at me now?  Did he know that I was just joking?  Are they going to check his cross and Little Bo Peep stick-thing topper for weapons?  Is the STICK-THING, itself, a weapon?  Could there be a Batman/Penguin styled pull-out sword inside?  How do you cavity search a pope-guy?  Hopefully, you just wave that wand thing around him and hope for the best.  Don’t want to piss off God. 

I felt a little relieved (but kinda weird) when the lady came over with her little rubber gloves and patted me down.  Pope guy was being sweet and had his eyes closed with a little angelic smile.  (Is this guy for REAL?)  The lady said, “Okay, you can go” and unhooked a little gate thing in the corral.  My friend opened his eyes and we traded another smile and I felt a whole lot better.  Whew!  God wasn’t going to get me for joking with the pope guy, after all!  He got it!  Pope guy is cool.  :o)

Pope Guys at Play

So, next time you get randomly pulled over and shunted into the terrorist testing area, just remember that it IS random.  And, know that God loves you and sometimes sends pope-guys your way to make you feel better at the cavity search corral.  Have a happy flight! 

** 8 Things About Me - (aka: "OMG, This Trend is Going Around Again.")

1.       I think that sleep disorder specialists in Georgetown, TX, should NOT freakin’ make sleepless people come in for their first initial consultation at 7:30am in the freakin’ am, dammit.  I mean, think about it:  From Lago V, it’ll take me 45 minutes to get there and 45 minutes to get ready to go.  This means that, though I won’t be able to FALL asleep until 3am, I will still have to get up at 6am in order to get there on time.  If I don’t fall asleep at the wheel and die on the way.  If I actually DO make it there at this ungodly hour, I won’t have a rational brain with which to communicate said insomnia to said sadistic doctor. 
What’s up, doc?  I am, you asshole.

2.       “Fried Eggs, Over Easy” rarely come out that way unless you slather the pan in grease first, preferably bacon grease.  Even so, they meld into an un-flippable conjoined-twin formation that folds in upon itself upon the attempt.  Then, instead of gooey yummi-ness, the yolks turn into solid rubber when (not ‘if’) they break.  I keep trying, however, which proves that I am either sleep deprived or stupid.  (Pick one.  In this case, you will be correct.)

        This Product Really Exists.

      3.       Egg shells in your non-over-easy greasy rubber egg mess are a hen’s revenge for eating her babies.  Calcium is good for you and sometimes comes in crunchy little packages.

      4.       Have I told you that I have a Blog?  Probably.  However, because my cousin Kelsie is making me write “8 Things” about myself, I will reiterate that fact and will put this there, too, because I am a cheater like that.  (Hey, I wrote it, right?  It counts as a ramble.)  Join my FB Blog Site at:  www.Facebook.com/OffTheInternet or just go to the Blogspot site and join up at:  www.OffTheInternet.Blogspot.com .  It will make me feel good about life.  Bonus: You will get regular ramble posts from me once the Christmas rush on beer tap handles has eased up.  Because I want to write a book and this is the only way that I will accomplish that goal. 
(Why, yes, that WAS shameless self-promotion, thanks for noticing! Now, go sign up for my Blog and share it with others.)

5.      I make custom beer tap handles in my art studio downstairs.  They’re selling really well this Christmas season.  I think it’s so super cool to make someone a personalized gift that makes both them AND the giftgiver AND me feel super cool for these creations.  They pour beer.  And Love.

Say Cheese!

6.      My hubby and I just bought a 2013 Infiniti G37 with the premium package and nav system.  Sweet ride, seriously.  When driving, you can’t see the cool, curvy hood, which makes your brain believe that you have more space in between you and the car in front of you with the brake lights on.  You don’t.  This makes Jeff and I jam the brakes on, occasionally, but I’m getting better at it. 
A friend of ours named Jeff R. just recently bought a Lamborghini AND a freakin’ McLaren.  Right after we bought the stoopid Infiniti.  Way to one-up it, Jeff R.  Showoff.

7.      If you were once a musician/singer-songwriter person but can’t gig out anymore because your wrists yell at you when you do and your back screams, “Die, bitch!” after 15 minutes of playing, are you STILL a musician?  I have music in my head about 75% of my waking hours, some of it still of my own creation.  Am I an ex-musician or am I still a musician?  I say that if you still own more than 4 guitars and cut the nails on your left hand in order to play them every now and then, you are still a musician because you have sacrificed your manicure for music.  So there.  I am/was/still am a musician, though I don’t use my stage name anymore.

8.      I think that red traffic light signals look like little round “Light Bright” boards at night.  Though I’m pretty sure they’re actually NOT, I really want them to be “Light Bright” boards.  (Look at them at night…don’t you want to play with them?) 

This concludes the “8 Little Known Facts (Observations) about (by) Me” thing.  Now, I get to call out someone else for 8 little known things about them.  (Ready, Jeff R.??)

** Beer

My dog, KC, is a one track minded animal.  To KC, ball = world and world = ball.  Food comes into play occasionally, but ball rules all.  Every morning, KC’s friendly dog smile and bootie wag is the first thing to greet me in the hallway, where she gets the mandatory rub down, good morning pep talk and fingernail skritchies.  Then, she snorts a few times while I head down the hall and over to “the petting spot” for cat number 1, Rum-Tum-Tugger.  KC has taken over some of Tugger’s “petting time” and brings ball to me to play every morning.  Her expression always says the same thing:  “Ball is EVERYTHING, please throw it, just throw it!!”  The other day, the manic look in her eye as she waits for me to “throw the ball, throw it, pleeeeeeze throw the ball!” reminds me of something, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is at the time.  Then, this morning, Jeff tells me about the new beer-flaw-testing-kit that had just arrived for use by the BJCP judges to be.  He is totally geeked out.  He has a manic look in his eye and is nearly hopping in anticipation and he asks me if I’d like to participate.  Um, sure.  What the hell are you bouncing for?  Then it hits me:  That’s it!

Ball is to KC what Beer is to Jeff.  I am not sure but I think I just bridged some kind of scientific gap or made some kind of amazing anthropology/canineology discovery.  I feel downright Pavlovian!

Excited by my new discovery, I run into the other room, get the ball and throw it for Jeff. He just looks at me like I’m crazy.  Perhaps I should’ve thrown a beer.

Maybe I shouldn't complain too much.  It’s all my fault, really, this whole beer thing.  I put his feet on the homebrew conveyor belt spiral of doom myself.  Many years ago, BB (before beer), he used to scoff at me when I drank Paulaner Hefeweizen and other so-called ‘snob’ beers.  Even Michelob was ‘fancy & expensive.’ Then, I bought him his first homebrew kit for Christmas.  I freakin’ bought him the equivalent of “ball” and saw the manic look for the first time when he unwrapped it.  His eyes had those little “spellcast” spirals in them as he read the instruction manual and, right as we watched, we lost him to beer, right there by the tree.  The kids have since gone on to explore their own lives but ours still rotate around one sudsy beverage:  Beer.

Jeff has now been a homebrewer for over 10 years.  During that time, he took over a lot of garage space and back patio space as he accumulated, hand built (“It’s ALIVE!!”) and upgraded his way to award after award.  When we moved to the Austin

** Baby Food Matters

So, my mom and I were talking today on IM about my recent spate of ADD moments.  As we IM'ed on Facebook, I noticed my hubby coming in from getting the mail, looking like he needed a kiss.  I hopped up and gave him a kiss, took the mail, sorted through it with him, talked about shopping for clothes, got a glass of water and went to the sofa to read a tech book about how to blog in the modern era.  I got midway through one paragraph before becoming distracted by the cat.  (Reading about how to blog is realllyyyyy dryyyy material.)  Petted the cat, thinking that I was forgetting something and then, *BINGO!* it came to me that I'd left my mom on IM several minutes earlier.  (My God, I am a great daughter.)

When I get back online with her, she recommends that I get more sleep.  She suggests that I eat more kiwi fruit because it contains natural triptophans, amino acids that can make one drowsy.  Milk and Turkey also contain these useful little buggers, I remember, and I'm all like, "I'll make evening shakes by grinding all of them up in a blender to slurp down before hitting the sack."  However, once I make this joke, memories of when our kids were infants come back to me in a rush and....I. am. so. ashamed.  

How you say, "No, freakin' no!"

See, back when our kids were both in diapers (They are 1 year, 2 days
apart in age, yes, it was tough, thanks for asking) and were eating from little prepared jarred foods, we fed them the odd mixtures without question because....here it is....they had no verbal skills with which to argue about it.  Then, as they grew, they slowly stuffed this "blended" food abuse down into the deepest recesses of their minds.

Anybody who knows babies knows that what goes into the mouth will

** Austin Beer Week

My hubby is never inebriated.  He is simply "having fun."  He had a LOT of fun last night; we both did, serenading the moon, the deer, the dog and our neighbors, singing the whole Sgt. Pepper's album over a nice little fire pit.  (You are WELCOME, neighbors!)  We are John and Paul, we are the Captain and Tenille, we are Simon and Garfunkel.  (Jeff is taller so he is Garfunkel.)  We are SO having fun!

Jeff is never hung over.  He is simply "REALLY tired for some reason."  He is really tired enough to watch an entire day of Star Wars movies but has to opt for "Superhero Sunday," instead.  He just decided to take a nap.  I know this because he has changed the channel so that he can 'watch' football instead of superhero movies.  I, on the other hand, am just writing a small post today because I am going out to train for the big 92.3 mile triathlon that's coming up in 2015.  Because I'm just that awesome.

Happy Sunday, y'all!  'Austin Beer Week' is over but "Barleywine and Big Beer Month" is just beginning. God help us all.....

The Walrus Abides....

https://www.facebook.com/OffTheInternet

** Testing, One, Two, Three.

So pretty!!!

This is a test.  This is only a test.  To see if Suzette can help me to link my Blog to my FB page for “Off the Internet.”  If you are getting this, it is because she succeeded in teaching a computer illiterate to do something right. 
If this had been an ACTUAL emergency, we know that George Clooney in space would be more than willing to help out.  Cause that’s just the way he rolls.  In freakin’ space.
This concludes the test of the emergency Blog system.  Thank you.