Tunesday-Windows Are Rolled Down

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Look up child 
The world is born 
Shoe’s untied 
And your soles are worn 

Windows are rolled down 
Sun is setting high 
Windows are rolled down 
I’m fixin’ to die 

Corn rows have companion feel 
This rocky road and this steering wheel 
Who do you call to ease your pain 
I hope for you to get through this rain 

Windows are rolled down 
Moon is hanging low 
Windows are rolled down 
Think it’s time for me to go hey-ay-ay-a…-ay 

Is it what you dreamed it’d be 
Are you locked up in this fantasy 
Oh this miles that have 
torn us apart 
My new found faith 
and my broken heart 

Windows are rolled down 
Sun is rising high 
Windows are rolled down 
Feel that wind rushing by hey-ay-ay-a… 

Windows are rolled down

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I’m feeling like Billie Joe Armstrong Today

FFFFUUUUCCCCCCKKKK!

I’m having me a damn day. First off I’m an office manager. I gave both of my staff members the day off. Stupid thing to do on a Monday. But you know I’m a nice person dammit and sometimes I have to give them both the day off. One’s daughter got married last weekend, and the second she’s going back to college and she had to go see her adviser. These are super important life changes and by God I knew I could handle one day in the office by myself. Or so I thought.

First the damn stapler in the biggest and most used photocopier/scanner/printer jams and I had no fucking clue how to change it. I had to lay on the damn floor and yank as hard as I could to get the damn thing out of the machine. I had my colleague on my cell phone, talking me through the process. I sat there with hemostats and then ripped the broken staples out of the machine. Once that task was done, the photocopier/scanner/printer on the third floor jammed. After I fixed that one. The other one on the second floor ran out of staples so off I ran to fix that. Then a professor had last minute copies to be made, and I had to do that. For the love of God I was running around like a crazy woman. I kept smiling though, dammit! Actually I think I was maniacally laughing.

Then the calls from the family started coming in. The texts too. All about money, cell phones, cars, wedding plans, cruise questions, and money. And, and, and, and. I finally texted Roger Darling and said if you all don’t stop bitching about money I’m going to fucking run away!!!! He told me he should have worn more condoms! We were losing our ever loving minds. Because though we’ve only given birth to two children, we now have four. Because they have partners. Whom we dearly, dearly, dearly love. But they drive us just as crazy as the children we birthed.

I didn’t hear from anyone for awhile which was good because I still had my own work to do after I fixed every damn thing else that broke. I actually got a lot done. Thank God!!

True to form my Roger Darling texts and says babe I’ve got a solution, call me. So I do. I’m to meet two of our kids at the ATT store to get a new cell phone and he’ll meet the other two at Spirit Ford to check out  a used car. Leave it to my Roger to get it worked out. What would I do without him?

So now the day has finally calmed down, and we had dinner together. I think I’m going to go sit with Rogie on the couch and make out with him. He deserves at least a good tongue kiss for all the problem-solving he’s done today.

Here’s to a valium, good sleep and a good French kissing. G’night my sweet friends.

BTW I was in the pit at a Green Day concert a few years ago. One of the best fucking nights of my life!!!!!

Thoughts at a Toll Booth on I-76

I’m at the end of my route on I-76. Finally. I’m waiting to pay another fucking toll. Shit, this is expensive. I look into my rear view mirror and I see a big SUV behind me. I see a couple. The woman is driving, and the husband sits  in the passenger seat. She is bitching up a storm at him. She looks like an aging Jersey Girl. He looks like a Guido. He starts bitching back. I see there are kids in the back seat of the Audi SUV. I think to myself, STFU with the screaming and posturing in front of your kids. WTF???

The wife keeps screaming and waving her arms everywhere. The husband looks like he wants to cut and run, the fuck away from her. Preferably down the exit ramp we just passed. I wonder if she knows how miserable she makes him. I seriously don’t think she would care though. She probably feels like he stole her youth. Her life. Her passion. He looks out the passenger side window. She stops bitching, leans her elbow on the driver side door and leans her head into her hand. Husband has the toll ticket in his hand and hands it off to her. She takes it, not even looking at him.

They drive an expensive vehicle. Her hands are adorned with fancy rings, but material possessions won’t keep you warm at night. Unless of course it’s a blanket. And even then it doesn’t whisper they love you in the night. It doesn’t cuddle in close and make you feel safe. It is only an expensive blanket. Such is the life of those with material possessions and no love.

It’s all a guess of course. Every picture tells a story. Even a mental picture seen through my eyes and my rear view mirror, at a toll booth on I-76.

Almost Heaven, West Virginia….

This Sparkly Girl slept the sleep of the dead and woke up in West Virginia. It’s as close to Heaven as you can get without being dead. I wrote down my thoughts in little snippets while I was on the road. Thoughts like all Beemer drivers are assholes! I’ve never had so many run ins with them as I have today. WTF is up with that? I don’t know how many there were on the road today but I think they either drove up my ass, swerved in front of me, or drove like a bat out of hell past me. Yeesh.

I thought about Tracy of course. I thought about how much she has inspired me with the pictures that she and her lovely husband have taken. She inspired my story of West Virginia in the Summer Time, The Conversation in the Rain, Sunrise, Coffee and Sanctuary, The Ghost of a Great Love (MY FAVORITE, BTW!!), and Then She Prays. The simple click of her shutter has made my heart sing and bring forth words from my head that I had no idea were in me. She is a published writer, and she knows the rush that I feel. She knows of the elation I feel when I get an idea in my head and want to write about it. I tried not to talk too much about it but I’m in the throes of ecstasy with writing right now.

I wrote every day this week. Longhand of course. My notebook is full of notes and little snippets. We’ll see what stories I come up with in all the little word doodles I made. I’ll give you a little sample of my thoughts on the drive today. It’s mostly music, shitty drivers, and what I spied with my little eye while driving. I’ll only give you a little taste tonight as I’m pretty damn tired.

I’m so glad to be back. Wink, wink.

First Day

Turnpike

Starbucks Dark Roast, five pumps caramel and room for cream and sweet and low, because I didn’t get much sleep. Excited.

Sia on the radio, I am Titanium. Thoughts of youth and Tracy. I wanted to be her when I was young. Beautiful, magnetic personality. and she didn’t take any shit. She was her own woman. Even as a teenager she was.

Munching on cantalope and making silly wishes.

…I’m bullet-proof, fire away, fire away. I am Titanium…

Now P!nk is telling me I’m fucking perfect.

If only I was.

The stick families on rear windshields annoy the shit out of me. Maybe because my kids are all grown up and I can’t have one.

I see scads of rock face on either side of the highway as I travel through hills that will soon become mountains.

See the Cleveland River.

The clouds are like fluffy down comforters. I want to pull them from the sky, wrap myself in them and sleep.

I hear Ramble On by Led Zeppelin. And in the darkest depths or Mordor, I met a girl so fair. That’s where I’m headed to see my fair haired friend. My split apart. It’s been 28 damn years!

I missed the chance to take a picture of the Pennsylvania sign. SHIT!

Asshole in an Audi passes everyone in the far right lane. Why is there never a cop when you need one?

Butterfly Boucher and David Bowie start singing about Changes. Ch, ch, ch, ch, changes. Turn and face the strange changes.

(Cont’d tomorrow, this girl is spent, night.)