Monday, October 31, 2016

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

The camper I can back into the lake and it's all okay!

Okay, Wirecutter, take your best shot.

I think we could be great friends

Max wants to be Secretary of Squirrel Defense

10 out of 10 men prefer the blonde on the right

H/T Jesse from DC

Just a thought from Poppy

I was talking with Poppy yesterday and he brought up an interesting point. Considering the YUGE difference in enthusiasm between the Trump supporters and the Left (can't quite call them Hillary "supporters"), could the MSM and Left's psy-ops strategy of using radically inflated polls to discourage Trump voters backfire?

His theory is this: The usually lazy and uninvolved Left voters (you know, why leave mom's basement when the pizza rolls are almost done?) will look at the YUGE lead in the polls and think, "Hmmm, Hillary's got this, she doesn't need my vote and I'd much rather spend my time doing...." and then just not show up to vote. Meanwhile, it's pissing off the Trump voters, many of whom (like Poppy) aren't voting FOR Trump, but voting a big ole FUCK YOU to the establishment, and the more you tell some people to quit and go home, the harder the fight. So the libs think they can skate, and the Patriots gird for battle. Could it be they're shooting themselves in the foot?

And now some voting tips from Poppy:

  1. If you vote by machine, try to record by photo or video your vote in case there's the old Hillary Switcheroo.
  2. If you live in a place with electonic polling machines, you are entitled to ask for a paper ballot. They are required to provide you with one. Many senior citizens don't know this is still an option.
  3. Early voting and absentee ballots are the easiest to tamper with, so please if possible, wait until Election Day to vote.
  4. If you're voting for Trump, wait until November 8.
  5. If you're voting for Clinton, wait until November 9.

Saturday, October 22, 2016

One more time for those who are new or just don't get it.

I'm Angel. This is my blog. I live in Texas. I'm friends with Wirecutter and Miss Lisa.
I'm not Miss Lisa, I'm not married to Wirecutter, much to both of our relief.

Miss Lisa and Wirecutter are married and living happily in Tennessee.
Wirecutter's blog is Knuckledraggin' My Life Away.
Miss Lisa's blog is Barbed Wire and Bracelets.

Again, I'm not Miss Lisa and I'm not married to wirecutter.

One of the first things to fix

I've heard a lot of the younger set question the "Make America Great Again" theme because they've grown up in an America that didn't build anything, but consumed everything. People didn't make things with their own hands, but they paid for things other people made. Several generations of people who don't know how to do the simplest things for themselves have to hire others who are then able to charge outrageous sums for their efforts. How do you make America great again? Start teaching ourselves and our youth how to make things again. How to make things, build things, create things, and not just consume things. There is nothing more satisfying than using or eating or wearing something you made with your own hands. So let's start there.

I'll just leave this right here

Name this wrestling move

God Save the Queen

Profound in it's profundity

Why wirecutter isn't allowed back in Bed, Bath & Beyond

Trigger warning

The doll should have been black to be historically correct, 
but that would have been racist.

Thursday, October 20, 2016

Rerun from January 2013: The Coming Storm

Sometimes, I need to remind myself.

About four years ago, on a muggy May afternoon, we had a booger of a storm headed our way down out of the New Mexico mountains. High humidity, unstable atmosphere, tornado heaven. The spousal unit was at work, the kids were in school, Charlie was cowering in the bathtub, and I grabbed my sweet tea and headed out to the deck. Turning my favorite chair to the west, I tipped back and rested my boots on the railing, ready for some serious storm watching.

Now, growing up in Texas, tornadoes are as common as tumbleweeds. You'll usually find more people out on porches and in yards watching the fireworks, than cowering in basements. That is, until it's blatantly obvious your ass is in trouble. Then we scoot. So I settle in, sweat running down my face, down my neck between my breasts, the wind cooling it on my skin. And I watch. The sky darkened, the thunder rumbled, the lightning flashed, and I realized this was going to be a good 'un.

If you've ever been in a true Texas thunderstorm, you know the rage and beauty. The sheer power of nature. And you realize how insignificant a human is. As I sat there and watched it get closer, the sky darkened so much that the street lamps came on. Then a huge bolt struck the ground just south of the grain elevator, and the lights went out. And the sirens came on. It was really getting good, and I decided to hold off until the hail ran me in. Rain I can take, I actually love getting soaked to the skin in a good rain. It's so freaking unusual in Texas you have to enjoy it when you can.

I was about to go in when the wind lessened, the rain became a gentle fall, and the storm lost it's ferocity. The all clear siren sounded. As fast as it came, it was gone. Total time: 20 minutes. I could have spent that time cowering in the tub with Charlie, but I would have missed life and a hell of a show. I'm glad I stayed.

The storm is on the horizon, I think we all agree. So what is your choice? Live life or just wait for death? If you're fortunate enough to have a significant other, spend this time loving the stuffing out of them. Ladies, ride that man like a trained monkey on a circus pony, and then fix him the best sammich ever. Dudes, love her until she's weak-kneed, breathless and glassy-eyed. Then recover, rehydrate and do it again. Don't waste a second.

If you have kids, hug on 'em. Love on 'em until they squeal. Spend time with them teaching them what they REALLY need to know, talk to them and most importantly, LISTEN to them. Time is too precious to waste worrying about the end.

If you have a hobby, something you love that brings you joy and peace, do it NOW. Don't wait for the perfect time. There is no such thing as the perfect time. Gather a bunch of friends, throw some meat on the fire, pound the horseshoe stakes in the ground, break out the cards and dominoes, enjoy your friends. Go fishing, hunting, hiking, gardening, antique shopping, whatever brings you joy.

Balance your preps for what's coming with the joy of living. If you aren't enjoying your life now, what the hell are you fighting to protect? Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Fucking Happiness. Go pursue some damn happiness because the storm is coming. Maybe it'll hit, maybe it won't; but you don't want your last thought to be "I wish I had". Make it "I'm glad I did."

A deeper explanation

I have two aging parents I adore who aren't doing well.
Both are willing to go down in a pile of smoking brass to defend the Constitution.
This makes me as proud as it worries me.

I have two cute chicks with autism who are really two young adults with autism.
I'm struggling with the transition. TQ is already out of school and we don't have a transition
for her; BQ is just two years away. And with the state of the country, I don't know what will
be available for them in the future. I'm prepping my ass off.

I'm taking the technical writing course through UCSC Extension; I have to become marketable.
It's time consuming, challenging, but I love it. I really wish I'd found this path two decades ago.
My brain is struggling to reboot. Some days I get it, some days I feel like an absolute idiot.

I see what's happening to my country and I feel helpless, hopeless, and furious. It's like watching a high-speed wreck in agonizingly slow motion knowing you can't stop it, can't change it, you'll just have to wade through the smoldering wreckage, picking up whatever is left that can be used to rebuild. And right now, I don't know if I have it in me to rebuild. I'm so tired.

Life is dragging me down like a puma on a lame wildebeast. I'm tired down to my soul. So when I find something decent to post, something that speaks to what's left of my soul, and the only commentary is about a fucking typo, something that I could normally shrug off, I don't know. I just can't. I wish I could, but I can't anymore. I'm sorry.

They look fake to me

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Tuesday, October 18, 2016


I have struggled, a lot recently, over whether or not to just chuck the blog. And I'm sliding toward the chuck side of the hill. Some days it's just not worth it. A lot of days it's not worth it. I struggle to find something that explains what's in my heart and soul, pull the curtain back and let you people see what's inside, and you excoriate me over a fucking typo. That wasn't even my typo; I'm just too fucking tired, stressed, and busy to re-type a meme to your exacting standards. I'm pulling a Hillary and taking a break, I may or may not be back after the election. I may be too busy.

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

A funny thing happened...

Last night, during our walkie, we got to the isolated area around the high school and junior high where I let Max off the leash to chase squirrels. There are medium sized ornamental shade trees all over the place, and Mr. Squirrel picked the wrong one. It has a low fork on the trunk about 4 feet up.

I'm yelling at Max to get down, he can't climb trees, he's going to get stuck, and a number of other Mommy-isms. And as these things go, he ignored me. You see, Mr. S was about 8 ft above him on the upper fork chattering smack at him. Squirrels, rats with fluffy tails and good PR. I'm telling him he can't climb trees and I'm pretty sure SquirrelButt said, "Better listen to your momma, boy, you're in over your head. Run on home, nice doggy..." And that was all she wrote.

It took him all of 10 seconds to get to where Mr. SquirrelShit was. Unfortunately, it took the squirrel 8 seconds to jump to the junior high roof and skedaddle. After dropping a large load of rodent nuggets on the branch. Max took his time, looking around, getting the feel of things, before I coaxed him down low enough for him to make the leap of faith into my arms. He snuggled for about 3 seconds and then squirmed to get down. And all that happened without me having a camera or my phone with me.

Fortunately, he did it again tonight. Just for fun. Just because he's SuperMax.

Happy 41st anniversary, Bill and Hillary!