Observations from one midwestern womanchild striving for balance while refusing to drown in the gravy.
Monday, June 27, 2005
Chinooks..."causing a rapid rise in temperature." Indeed.
Chinook helicopters. Cool as hell.
Our regional airport just became a hub for a small fleet of chinook helicopters. Because they are a rarity in my area, I get a real charge when I see them fly over.
My love for them and the other characters dwelling at Homestar Runnerruns deeper than the waters of the Mississippi.
If you've never met them, I strongly encourage you do so. However, you must, ummmm, how should I phrase this, be somewhat *off* to find the utmost pleasure from this flash site.
I can't help it. Homestar's voice sends me over the moon. Strong Bad's personality is nothing short of perfect. And the Poopsmith? Don't get me started.
Ahh, the first post. Pressure mounts. You want the first post to be so substantial that the Washington Post picks it up immediately. Well folks, I hate to break it to you, but that's simply not going to be the case here. Short on dazzle, this post will do little more than introduce you to the subtle musings of my life.
Take for instance, why, in the name of all things good and pure, do the civil engineers from the county in which I reside, feel it necessary to perform road construction projects on EVERY MAJOR THOROUGHFARE in the county? Ok ok, I'll admit it, I'm spoiled. My daily commute to and from work is a mere 7 minutes. I'm now pushing 40 minutes one way and becoming more and more hostile each day. There are only so many routes in which I can get home, and with each one, either the road is completely closed (as opposed to partially closed - ha, is that possible? Back to my rant...) or down to one lane, thus clogging every artery in the county. Is it so hard to fathom that the old bridge remain open and operable while the new bridge being built 100 yards away is completed? I'm left scratching my head, and swearing at orange pylons. And contemplating a letter to the editor of my local newspaper.
Wait, scrap that idea. I did that once. I won't do it again. Having written a LTTE about a local zoning issue, I was retaliated upon by a woman's rebuttal letter accusing me of being an agist and anti-elderly. Yes, lady, I feel the need to play "Pick Off Grandma" with my SUV as she schlepps from her assisted living facility across the street to the local Shoneys. She obviously didn't get my point, which meant that many others didn't get it either. But I've digressed.
Orange pylons. May they live long and prosper. Note to self: Refill Prozac prescription for the summer.
Enter Blog, short for Weblog, because we all know how exasperating it is to say Web-Log. One has to admit to having some semblance of an inflated ego to become a blogger. Obviously, what I have to say is so important that everyone will want to read it, right?
As for "About Me," I can be summed up in three words: saucy, spirited and simple. These are the observations of one midwestern womanchild striving for balance while refusing to drown in the gravy.
Chinook helicopters. Cool as hell.
Meet Strong Bad and Homestar Runner. 
Ahh, the first post. Pressure mounts. You want the first post to be so substantial that the Washington Post picks it up immediately. Well folks, I hate to break it to you, but that's simply not going to be the case here. Short on dazzle, this post will do little more than introduce you to the subtle musings of my life.
