Flashback

A Day in the Vintage Life... and some things I found out about myself:

Extremely structured checklists appease my need for "organization" but do little to actually help me stay on task.

The creation of the "system" is all-consuming and leads to burnout. Thus making the system useless.

I have ADD. See above.

Ty Pennington on ADHD

The link right up there contains a GREAT illustration of what it's like to live with ADHD/ADD. When I was diagnosed, it was like everything clicked into place. Getting the appropriate medication to treat my condition made a world of difference for me. It made life easier. So much easier. No longer did I struggle with remembering why I walked across the house or where my keys were. I was able to function like a "normal" human being.

Simple tasks like taking the laundry from the living room to putting it in it's proper place didn't lead to 3 side trips to do other things. I was more productive in my sewing. I wasn't getting as frustrated with projects and pushing them aside in favor of "easier" projects. In the past I would have three or four different projects happening at the same time and doing very little on all of them.

Oftentimes, behaviour problems are blamed on ADD/ADHD and little is done to correct the *actual* problem. There's no excuse for rotten behaviour no matter what condition you live with. ADD medications being demonized as making children into "zombies" or being addictive is equally unhelpful. No one tells the insulin-dependent diabetic that their insulin is addictive or unnecessary. ADD is a neurological condition where the wiring in the brain goes haywire. The *right* medication can be a total life-changer.

Don't be afraid of the diagnosis. Some of the most brilliant, creative, talented people have ADD. It is precisely because their brains are wired differently that allows them to think outside the box.

I leave you with this sentiment...

I'll Be Thinking Of You

#ADD #ADHD #betterlivingthroughchemistry #aboutme

Reminiscing...

Recently I had the opportunity to visit my old hometown, Orlando. To most people, Orlando is Mickey's Home. That's part of it, sure. But back in '78, when I was in second grade... Orlando was a small town and the drive to Disney took an hour. Downtown was 10 minutes north and our sleepy neighborhood and environs were the world I knew.

It's funny when you go "back home" how things have changed. Surprisingly, there was a lot that HADN'T changed. Like Lido's Italian Restaurante. Still there after all these years.

Other places still there:

The Old Home Place

 How come their kids got a tree house and I never did?

The Church House where a friend used to live

The church I used to attend

I attended preschool there too... a LONG time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

Where I bought my FIRST ever model kit.

It was an airplane and had missing pieces but I didn't care.

Where I saw my first Billy Graham movie

And where I swore to myself at the tender age of under 12 that there was NO WAY I was ever going to sit through one again. To this day I have a boat-load of disdain for "Christian" entertainment, largely because they disguise crap under a banner of "evangelism". Crap is crap people. And no amount of "PRAISE JESUS" is ever going to make it anything other than crap. Bad quality makes the Baby Jesus cry, people.

Beefy King.

I don't recall ever eating here. But I remember driving by it as a kid. They're still open for business 30 years later. I wish Ronnie's NY Delicatessen was still around. It was just down the road a bit from Beefy King. It's been replaced by a TooJay's Deli and a Starbucks.



#reminiscing, #memories, #littleriverband

Pondering a new direction

for my blogging attempts.
I do some of my best thinking while I'm soaking in a hot bath and tonight was no exception. I had some deep thoughts swirling in my head and I'm trying to make some sense out of them and see where this blog and my other main blog converge, diverge and otherwise exist.

Bear with me while blog things evolve. I feel like I've evolved quite a bit thus far and am still evolving and my blogging can and should show that. I'd like to think that it's been somewhat evident in content, but I could be mistaken. I feel like there's been a shift inside my head, though.

I know that I want for this blog to be content rich. Like a nice meal. Not drive-through fare.

People get ready...

I dreamed a dream...

This post has been imported from my other blog.

I have a dream...

Of one day owning a quaint little shoppe in our quaint little downtown area. I've even got a location all picked out. The pictures are courtesy of the Sanford Historic Trust.

1923

2011

I want the corner space on the right, bottom floor. It's got GREAT street visibility and is right next door to the Sanford Visitor's Center/Historic Trust. When I first moved to Sanford over a decade ago, this building caught my eye and it spoke to me. That's how these things normally start, right?

So more about my dream.

One thing this town needs desperately and doesn't have is a children's boutique. I remember going to "Nana's Kiddie Shoppe" or something similar when I was a little girl. It had fluffy dresses, pretty underthings, fancy shoes and hair dos and some toys, but not many. They sold suits for boys, too. The thing about Nana's was the QUALITY. Quality that you just don't find very often these days. And I can promise you that there isn't a store like that in our area unless you're willing to DRIVE. FAR.

So I want to fill that need. I think I became most aware of the "lack of" in this area when my oldest was a baby. I had to drive 40 minutes just to get a decent christening gown. And we won't even SPEAK of what passes for children's "fashion" over the last almost a decade. I have contented myself with shopping for my kids in three places: Target, The Children's Place and Justice with an occasional side trip to the Disney Store. And even then, I like the stuff I make best. So do my kids.

Which brings me full circle.

Imagine a working studio...

The front windows would have displays of things I've made in the past for us while an lcd monitor on the wall shows images of things I've made for others in a slideshow while gentle music wafts from the speakers mounted near the ceiling. In the front fourth of the space there will be a rack of some children's clothing I've made to sell. There will also be super comfy seating and a play area. To separate the work space from the "retail" space, there will be a wall that is only 4' high allowing a clear view through the work space to the front windows.

The remaining three fourths of the space would have all my machines, adequate work areas and a private consultation area. The walls would have shelves with racks of fabric and patterns and all manner of sewing stuff. It would be inspirational and functional. And MINE. ALL MINE.

A girl can dream can't she?

PS: I've already got a label name for my designs, but if I told you what it was I'd have to kill you...

Dames, Booze & Bad Guys

What do you do when you don't feel so great? Me, I curl up on the sofa or in bed with the laptop and watch Film Noir movies on Netflix. There's something about this film genre that A) puts me to sleep like a baby when I'm overtired and B) makes me feel not quite so bad. I dunno if it's the black and white (because film noir can NOT be in color. It is an abomination!) or if it's the acting style (somewhat Shatner-esque) or if it's the [insert evil thing like POOL] will send children to jail as juvenile delinquents hyperbole or what. But there's something about it that I like.

I'll say this... The problem with Veronica Mars was that it was sometimes Noir and sometimes Buffy. You can't do both.

Eastern Journeys

What I’m listening to: “Semarang” by Daniel Sahuleka



Indonesia is a land of extreme contradiction. While there are mansions and malls that have shops that the average American could only dream of being able to afford the wares, there is also extreme poverty. It’s hard to describe adequately. I’ve been pondering what I’ve observed over the last couple of weeks and just trying to absorb it all. It’s difficult at best to even attempt to assimilate all the sights, sounds and experiences that make up Jakarta and it’s environs and put it into any kind of neat little package. Jakarta defies being put in a box, really.


One could almost call this “A Tale of Two Cities”, really. And I never realized just how well off my husband’s family are. Compared to the average American family, they would be considered “wealthy”. Compared to other family members here in Indonesia, they would be considered solidly middle class. I finally realized why our little family from America is looked on – not necessarily with pity – but with the good ol’ phrase “bless their hearts”. And because of my upbringing as a child of itinerate ministers who barely made ends meet and relied on church pantries and so on for a period of time, I still feel a little out of place in the more “upscale” areas. Like an interloper. I keep wondering when I’ll be told “you don’t really belong here”. I guess it’s no surprise that I feel more comfortable in the less affluent areas which abound.


We made a visit to the shore at Ancol and the beach was less than 2 metres wide and was littered with plastic bottles, bags and other refuse. But local children played in the sand as though it were the most amazing thing ever. Tour boats were moored along the sea wall that separated the Hotel Mercure from the shore and the Java Sea. In that few minutes of observation, I realized how grateful I am that our beaches in Florida are clean. The elder daughter became extremely distressed over the state of the beach at Ancol.

On July 4th after our outing to Ancol and Sea World, we dropped in at the wedding of one of the office workers in my family’s factory. I was warned by my mother-in-law that they were not very well off and not to be surprised that the wedding wasn’t very elaborate. I was not prepared to see a wedding that was on par with almost every single wedding I’ve ever attended in the US. Gorgeous wedding gown, faboo cake, nice decorations (silk flowers), buffet of appetizers, party favors and ice cream? Check. In fact, I think that compared to a lot of the weddings I went to in college, it was a step up. Comparing that wedding to the wedding of my brother-in-law blew my mind. That’s what really drove home just how well off my husband’s family is.


Our home-away-from home is located in a very industrial area compared to some of the really nice homes. The house is situated between the injection molding plant and the metal-stamping plant – both of which run around the clock except on national holidays and Sundays. To get to the house from the main road, you have to cross a bridge – Jembatan Genit* - over a river that is a sludgy brownish grey and littered with Styrofoam and other sampah**. The river is cleaner now than when I first visited in 2002, though. In 2002, the river was so full of trash that rats the size of Boston Terriers would run from shore to shore on mountains of crap. You couldn’t even SEE the water. The eldest daughter was even more distressed about the state of the rivers and canals in Jakarta than the beach. She’s decided to make cleaning up her home town her life’s work. She has always been concerned for the environment – it’s just her nature to care about God’s creation – but seeing the way the environment is treated here has really driven home for her the necessity of taking care of nature and the consequences of NOT being a good steward of the Earth’s resources.


The first time I visited my in-laws was in January of 2002. My father-in-law had passed away and my husband and I came home for the funeral. My mother-in-law was embarrassed by the location of her home. Once upon a time, her father had owned all the surrounding farmland but it had been sold off piecemeal for factories, so the family complex was surrounded on all sides by industry. What was once Mama’s garden is now a factory and office. To add “insult to injury”, the last few days of our stay were rained on to point of banjir***. We had to be floated out the back gate to the road on a getak****. Mama was very distraught that my first impression of her home/Jakarta would be tarnished by the experience. Far from it, however. What’s a few feet of water among family? I had the time of my life. It was like being at Disney World only without the “Disney-fication Factor”. It was real and unsanitary and amazing. I’d never experienced anything like it before and I still haven’t. But I fell in love with Jakarta. I’m almost more at home here than I am at home in the US.


Roundtrip tickets for 5 people from Florida to Jakarta: $8000
Seeing for yourself the reality of protecting the environment: Priceless

*Genit - Crooked
**Sampah - Trash
***Banjir - Flood
****Getak - a type of bamboo raft

You Are Golden

Today I got the news that a dear friend of mine had passed away. She was the first of any of my friends to go and it hit me like a ton of bricks. You expect your elderly grandparents to go before you. You expect your family members/friends who have been ill for a long time to go before you. But you don't expect a young woman with a family - even grandkids - to head to the great Beatles Listening Party In The Sky at such a young age and with no apparent warning.

The thing is, my friend Shelly is someone I know only through my computer. She sent me this awesome Facebook flair:

I remember smiling from ear to ear when I received it. Because it sums up a lot of my life. I'm pretty much separated from my friends by distance and so we keep up with each other online. Over the last few years, I've come to know Shelly as being an amazing mom, devoted wife, on fire Christian, lover of the Beatles and Disney and all things wonderful.

She hadn't been feeling well lately and on November 1st had posted to our message board the following:

As soon as I can get one or two good nights sleep I'll be golden:)

Little did she know just how golden she was going to be. The thing is, November 1st is All Saints Day. It's the day that Catholics celebrate all the Saints in Heaven. I firmly believe that God has her in His arms right now.

So I've lit virtual candles for her and will light more at Church on Sunday. If you want to light a candle and say a prayer, you may do so here.

Housekeeping

I'm doing a little housekeeping and I'm going to be moving a lot of posts over to my "other" blog. It's specifically geared to retro life and vintage stuff and so most of my posts about sewing and stuff are headed over there.

This blog will be about the more random stuff happening in my life and my writing and stuff. There's just so much here that I feel it's better for everyone - ME included - if I clear the cobwebs and all and make it all neater. So stay tuned! Good things are happening!

$1.73 at Taco Bell saves lives?

I can't say for certain, but I firmly believe that a trip to Taco Bell saved the lives of two small children today. I missed lunch today and was contemplating going to Taco Bell "A" which is on the way to my children's school. As I was pulling out of the driveway, I was prompted - no doubt by my guardian angel - to drive in the opposite direction. As I contemplated pulling in to McDonald's and Burger King, I was prompted to drive past them. I thought "I"ll just pull on to 1st Street and check out one of the local eateries" and immediately felt cautioned to go LEFT onto highway 46 rather than right on to 1st Street. I've learned from past experiences to follow the prompts rather than ignore them. So I dutifully turned left and continued past the hospital over the Amtrak and down towards the mall and whatever food was there.

As I'm driving, I see a young man in his early to mid twenties pushing an umbrella stroller with two babies in it. The older of the two was holding the younger on it's lap. The oldest was perhaps two and the younger was 8-12 months old. The young man had stopped momentarily and looked absolutely exhausted.

If you know anything about Florida, you'd know that pedestrians die here in unreal numbers every year due to car vs. pedestrian incidents. The young man was walking in an area with no sidewalk on the paved shoulder with traffic going around 55 mph. I contemplated pulling a u-turn and offering them a ride since I had an empty car and carseats, but I felt a prompting NOT to do so. As I was driving, I felt compelled to call the non-emergency police number but when I did, I was connected to the Sherrif's department. When I relayed what I'd seen, they connected me with the dispatch department who took all the information and sent out a deputy to check it out.

I made it to Taco Bell and got my two crunchy tacos ($1.73) and was all set to go the back way home to pick up the girls from school, but I was compelled *again* to go back the way I came to check on the young man and babies. I watched the road for signs of them but didn't see them at all. I did see a Sherriff's cruiser looking for them, so I can only assume they either caught a bus (unlikely) or a Good Samaritan gave them a lift where they needed to go.

Buried In Bali

My favorite place in the world is Bali. I’ve been been blessed to be able to go there twice now. Each time has been a “family vacation” with all that entails. And yet, despite the responsibilities of parenting first two and then three children under 6, including “losing” the oldest on the last trip, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself both times.

The first trip was just the four of us and my mother-in-law. The second was the entire sibling group, mother-in-law and our three for a total of 6 adults and 3 children. And this was the time that the oldest of my children wandered away from the group and was “lost”. I find this very funny now although it was not funny when it happened. At the time, I wondered how two ostensibly responsible adults (my brother-in-law and his new bride) could “lose” a 5.5 year old. When one realizes that it was their honeymoon, it’s not that hard. And the oldest of my progeny has this way of slipping off from the group that is maddening.

But enough about that one little blip. I’m telling you about Bali itself. This is not meant to be a travelogue. All I’m doing is giving you my innermost thoughts.

Bali is my favorite place on earth. It’s pure and unspoiled. For the most part. If you don’t mind the tourists and the shopping malls that are an inevitable part of tourism. For me, the pasar-pasar (markets) are more intriguing than Starbucks – even though I made a concerted effort to visit every Starbucks in the areas of Indonesia that we were located. For me, finding the perfect batik tulis (hand-dyed batik) was the main attraction – more so than the most killer wave that the surfers all come for. And Ibu Oka’s babi guling (roast suckling pig) mean more to me than the local McD’s. Ibu Oka’s babi guling is such an important treat to me that I will eat there every day I’m in Bali if I could. It’s nearly impossible to make here in the States so I have to gorge myself while I’m resident in Bali. Another treat that I try to get while I’m there is klepon. They are little balls with gula merah (brown sugar) inside and coated with coconut flakes. Truly addicting. And fattening in large amounts.

But beyond all that, there’s a peacefulness in Bali that I’ve not found anywhere else in the world except Bogor on the island of Java – where my father-in-law is laid to rest. To say that Bile is restful is an understatement. Even in the aftermath of an earthquake during our first visit, the serenity of the island was unbroken. We barely felt the earthquake when it happened. We were at a lake resort/tourist stop with the ubiquitous Hindu temple and a restaurant that served pisang goreng (fried bananas) that were heavenly.

The Balinese people live by the philosophy – rooted in Hinduism – of being at peace with God, then nature and each other. Truly, this way of living permeates every interaction I’ve had with the Balinese - a lovely people who are almost always smiling.

Since Bali is primarily Hindu with a smattering of Muslims and Christians unlike the majority of the Indonesian archipelago, there are hundreds of temples to the Hindu gods all over the island. Many of the temples are still in use today and one can observe Hindu services in progress. The ancestors of the Balinese came from India via Java around a thousand years ago or more. They were forced there by the newer Muslim settlers that came via the Middle East while on the spice trade routes. The Balinese language is very similar to Hindi or Thai script with it’s curlicues and basis in Sanskrit. There is also somewhat of a caste system remaining as well.

But none of that has any real bearing on why I want to bury myself in Bali and never return to the outside world. The “peaceful, easy feeling” washes over me the moment I step off the plane and I head toward the baggage carousel. Despite the almost 100% humidity – which to this Florida native is normal – and the language barrier – I speak VERY little Bahasa Indonesia (the official Indonesian language) and NONE of the Balinese language – I feel at ease with life and humanity. It’s as if the Balinese philosophy becomes part of me and I become one with the Island.

Bali is verdant. Unspoiled. You can stay in a five star resort or in a private residence where there is no one else around for at least 200 meters. In either case, you still will have an amazing view. The sounds are similar to what I imagine the Garden of Eden was like. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that Bali could *be* the Garden of Eden. Lush vegetation, beautiful fruits and vegetables, flora and fauna that intrigue… All that and still there are pockets of “civilization” where one can get wi-fi and a Starbuck’s latte or McDonald’s hamburger and fries – if that’s what you really want.

Bali is the best of both worlds, really. And when I retire… If I retire… That’s where I’m going. And I’m never coming back. Never. You can keep your shopping malls and all the “modern conveniences”. I’ll take the sounds of silence, the frangipani flowers and my babi guling over them any day of the year.

If you’re in the mood to visit there, I recommend the Santika Beach Hotel and the Santi Café. Second to Santika Beach Hotel is the Hotel Padma. The Mandara Spa at the Hotel Padma is *amazing*. Even though there is a Mandara Spa local to me, I’d much rather go to the one in Bali. It’s just NOT the same. The Santi Café has the most AMAZING seafood in the world. You can pick your lobster, crab, shrimp, fish or other fruits of the sea from a tank as you walk in. And the chef prepares it to order. The bill for our meal was small compared to what it would have been in the States. It’s said you’re considered “lucky” if you get the shrimp with the most roe. Well, I was the one who got all the shrimp roe. And I guess I am pretty lucky to have been able to visit Paradise twice in one lifetime.

And now I’m suffering withdrawal. But life is good and I know that one day, I’m going back to my happy place. And if I’m lucky, I’ll never have to leave.

PS: I promise I'll put in some pictures so you can see why I never want to leave Bali.

PPS: The image header on my blog contains photographs from my Bali trips.

Possum Oil! It'll fix you right up!

Asian redneck say wha?!

With apologies to Miley Cyrus and her writers at the Disney Channel, "[insert descriptor] say wha?!" is now my phavorite phrase. Pher realz. Ok, enough with the alliteration or consonance or assonance - first person to call me an ass gets a possum thrown at their head - or whatever.

Possum Oil. That's what the hubs calls the Po Sum On Medicated Oil.

Which strikes me as funny. You'd have to know him to really get this. Let's just say that when we got married, I donated all his "Garth Brooks" shirts to Goodwill.

Now before anyone gets the wrong impression, I don't think I've ever really introduced the hubs. He's from Indonesia. Not India like the seven-gajillion telemarketers selling calling cards to "India, Pakistan and Bangladesh" would like to think. Now *I* am indirectly of Indian descent (bio dad was part Indian) but hubs? Not likely. Second of all, just because his name is sanskrit means bupkis. Bahasa Indonesia is a derivative of Malayan and is comprised of Portuguese, Dutch and Sanskrit words in addition to Malayan.

Sepatu? Got 'em on my feet.
Meja? That's where the plates go.
Guru? That's the teacher.
Pandeta? That's the prophet/apostle/mystic.
Geritji? That's the mother-in-law. Along with siblings Maritji, Julius and more.

So for the love of mercy telemarketers, don't ASSume that because some dude is named Surya that he's desi. Freddy Mercury the hubs is not. But he can play a mean classical guitar.

So back to the topic at hand. While I've been crouping away and generally feeling nastay, the hubs has been the most supportive dude in the world. He hasn't even made one joke about how I look like death warmed over. Anyhow, one thing I've found that really makes me feel better is to have this process done known as "kerik" (that's my spelling) because that's what the implement is called. Wikipedia has an article on it that is semi-complete. I feel the article lacks *something* that I can't put my finger on.

Anyways, instead of the raw ginger that hubs's Popo uses, we have this little tool (pardon the crapola picture taken with my laptop webcam):


I'll tell you this... If you aren't sick, this procedure won't do squat. In fact, it could make you worse. Or so says the hubs. Also, it's supposed to expell the "wind" or "air" and restore everything to it's natural state of balance. The first time he told me that... Well, I thought pigs were going to start flying. But after seeing my previous post... Well... It DOES work. And it hurts like a MOFO. The key here is to barely scrape the skin. You aren't going for torture, just deep massage. I'm just glad our nearest neighbors are 60 feet away in any direction. Otherwise the sounds emanating from our house would probably scare the daylights out of them. Now let me say this... If you are sick, it's GOING TO HURT. Even if you're only being lightly touched. But once it's over... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH How do you spell relief? "Wacky Indonesian by way of China method of flaying the skin off one's back after having rubbed in some medicated oil that burns you alive".

Which leads us back to Po Sum On [bonus points for you if you were singing that to the tune of "Do A Deer" from "Sound of Music"]

I have an extremely high tolerance for most medicated liniments/oils/cremes/etc. My husband's dresser is a veritable Asian pharmacy of varying Chinese/Japanese/Indonesian creams/rubs/balms/liniments/etc. They mingle with the Dolce & Gabbana for Men, the Target brand of Purell Hand Sanitizer (cuz I'm germy) and Aveeno lotions. Of all the medicated stuff we've got, only Po Sum On even registers on my heat index. We have a game to see which one will be "hot". So far, none of them get hot. They only tingle a bit. My dad on the other hand.... Well, he was feeling ill a while back and so we bought him the Po Sum On and the hubs went to do the "coin thing" (kerik) on his back to make him feel better. Dude. We nearly had to pry Dad off the ceiling because it was "SO HOT!!!!"

One other thing about this procedure... You MUST get reclothed immediately after. Otherwise you can get sicker than you were from letting "wind" back in. Take it for what you will, all I can say is that this is the One and Only Thing that's made me feel human while I've been sick. See? I don't look like Night of the Living Dead anymore! And I'm not even wearing makeup. I contemplated putting some on, but figured that would A) be overkill and B) a waste of what little energy I have. So here's my bedridden face for all the world to see... Oh yeah, one more thing... This pic was taken with the lights off (thanks headaches). The colors in the picture above are the accurate ones.


Now one more thing before I go post something else... I've had a LOT of time to think while I've been in bed. "A dangerous pasttime I know"... Tell me where that phrase comes from and you'll win a prize. I'm not sure what, but it will be a prize. Thinking gives me fodder for writing. So stay tuned. I'm sure there will be some interesting posts forthwith.

You've got to be kidding me...

OK, so I was at the doctor's office last week and saw a J Crew catalog on the table. The only thing I knew about J Crew was that the First Lady wore something they sell. So I flip through the catalog and notice these:

You might be asking why I was so bemused about them? Well, for one thing, the 2006 catalog had a price tag of $198. And for another, I bought the same style of shoe (albeit with a more round toe) at Target in 2006 for a mere $14.99.

Granted, my shoes are gold metallic pleather and not the real mccoy, but still... For a shoe you wear knocking around to the grocery and playgroup? Almost $200? Even if I won the lottery, I STILL would NOT PAY that kind of money for a pair of every day, regular shoes. I wouldn't even pay that much for a pair of ballroom shoes in actual real gold leather. I did pay $99 for a pair of silver ones once upon a time, though. Nadia by International Dance Shoes.

Which apparently are now over $150 depending on where you buy them. My, my how time and money flies in the last 12 years...

OK back to the topic at hand. My Target house-brand shoes have been used and abused over the last three years. They've weathered pregnant lady feet, gardening and all kinds of abuse. I think I've got my $5/year out of them. The real question is "Would their high-ticket cousins have stood the same test of time?"

Beautiful Boy

There are days when I think that John Lennon's song "Beautiful Boy" was written just for my little guy. This was one of those days. I can't even think about the lyrics without getting misty. Especially since he was what happened while I was "busy making other plans".

Enjoy the wonder that is Prince Lorenzo:

Go Lynx & Take The Magic With You!

I know the title sounds weird, but bear with me. When I lived in Hotlanta, the war chant for the Braves was "Go Braves & take the Falcons with you!" This was solely because both ball teams sucked pretty bad. Lynx is our local public transpo (similar to Atlanta's MARTA but without the spiffy light rail). The last time I rode Lynx, was in 1980. The busses were pretty much not airconditioned that great and it took FORever to get anywhere.

As you know, the Prince Consort's car was thefted a couple of months back. So we've been doing the one car bit with me having ZERO car and the Prince Consort has been taking my car to work. Why? Because I'm a lazy butt and don't want to schlep the kids out of the house at 7:30 every morning to take him to work and then drive home and then drive back to get him and then drive home again. And who could blame me? Gas has gone from LOL to WTF. See what I mean?

Anyhow, how this relates to the lackluster Orlando Magic and Lynx...

The last two days, I've been using Lynx to tote the children on errands and what-not. It beats walking. The busses are now icy-cold and are like knock-off Disney busses. If you've ever ridden a Disney bus, you'll know what I'm talking about. A one-way fare is $1.75. An all day pass is $4. 7 days? A mere $14 (bought one yesterday). 30 days? $30. A buck a day. Now THAT you can't beat with a stick. I can't even fill my gas tank up for less than $30. Let alone carry insurance or car maintainance. So I think I'll keep doing the public transpo thing for a while. We're saving our pennies to get a hefty down payment on a Mazda5 in 2009. See?

Now I will say for the record that the Blue Mazda5 Grand Touring has NOTHING to do with the Orlando Magic. We just like a sporty color. And we're tired of red. On the topic of the Magic? Please, stop threatening to leave Orlando if you don't get a bigger, better, badder arena. You suck. You can't keep a decent coach. So explain to me WHY?! you deserve a bazillion dollar arena paid for by taxpayers?

So Go Lynx!!! You rock (except for the bus yesterday that was an hour late on account of breaking down).

Go Magic (on the bus out of town)! You won't be missed. Except for the drain on Orlando taxpayer pocketbooks.