We pull into the casino parking lot, it’s definitely not the nicest area of town so we double-check that the car doors are locked.  I look across the parking lot and see that the decrepit trailer park is still up and running, yes its still there.

The building is about 13,000 square feet, it’s a big square box with peeling white paint covering the exterior and large flashing white lights surrounding the bottom of the roof, almost like large Christmas lights that we hang on our houses during the holidays.  There is an old faded red canopy on the tacky walkway to the main entrance, I feel like I’m at the Academy Awards except on the wrong side of the tracks and I’m not wearing a gown.

My husband and I both take a deep breath of the cool night air before we step inside the casino.  We know what awaits us and we are not surprised when the acrid stench from a trillion stale cigarettes permeates the air.  We can feel our lungs tighten up and always think this place is the poster child for a second hand smoke commercial.  The smoke is so thick you could probably cut it with a knife.

The carpets look like they haven’t been replaced in the 60 odd years this place has been open.  The pattern is red and black checkered, I think there are yellow lines also, buts it’s so dirty it’s hard to tell.  My husband thinks it looks like a dirty old Scottish kilt that hasn’t been washed in over 500 years. 

This first room we walk into has slots machines running down the middle of it and also down all four sides.  Most of the people playing are older women, retirement age and they don’t really look like they are having much fun in this dingy, depressing place.  The ceilings are low and the ventilation is horrible, if they even have any, I think this is mainly why it smells like a large ashtray in the middle of the desert. 

We pass through to the second room that has more slot machines and a large bar that encircles most of this room.  The bar is our destination.  We sit in the middle of the bar, there are  .25-cent video slot machines built into the actual bar in front of each bar stool.  My eyes are stinging from all the smoke here, they actually hurt, I can’t see the smoke but I sure feel it. 

Jack our favorite bartender is working; he’s a strange character but has a good heart.  He’s been slinging drinks at this place for over 30 years.  He’s probably 70 or so but is in really good shape; well he looks it at least.  My husband and I still laugh at some of the stories he has told us over the years.  He has not eaten “hot food” for over 20 years and has not had a glass of water in that long, he only drinks soda.  He’s about 5’6”, salt and pepper hair and has about one of the worst front to back comb over’s you’ve ever seen.  His main hobby is collecting hundreds of used cars “Junker’s” that he stores in a large dirt lot and has “Larry the drunk mechanic” fix them.  Larry is now our mechanic; he lives in a trailer in this dirt lot.  Larry does good work on our cars if we can catch him before “Miller time” which is usually early afternoon. 

We both order a drink and two shrimp cocktails that Jack takes from the small refrigerator with the glass door that sits on the back of the bar.  He uses a small ladle to put the cocktail sauce on top of the shrimp.  “Jack, can we get a side of sauce,” I ask.  This is mainly why we come here, for the cheap shrimp cocktails that are so damn good and only .99 cents. 

There is a large mirror on the back of the bar.  There is an old display for Pabst Blue Ribbon beer on the back of the bar.  It shows an old car probably dating back to the twenties, it’s bouncing and the wheels are spinning.  There is a man in a white overcoat, cap and goggles sitting in the drivers seat.  There is also an American flag on the display.  We laugh thinking what a great advertisement for “drinking and driving.”  Boy, times sure have changed.

The guy to my left sitting about 4 stools down is getting kind of loud, he’s got that look of a major alcoholic and seems to be tying a good one on.  He is trying to talk to a lady sitting a few chairs away who’s playing video poker at the bar.  She turns to him, smiles and then turns away and begins to ignore him.  She’s busy trying to find that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

We finish our drinks and head out for the night assuring Jack we will see him soon, that is, once we get our new lung transplants. 


* This is my second assignment for my class.  We had to go to a place where locals go and try to use some strong imagery.  Hope it wasn’t too long…

I left work a little early today and decided to put on my new sneakers and take a walk around my neighborhood.  I’m always so thankful that we chose this street in my development.  The view I see when I step out my front door is a city park that stretches from the top of my street to the bottom and is quite deep.  It always gives me a sense of peace and tranquility.  We landscaped our front yard last year and created a great patio that I sit on often.  My cat loves to play around on all the rocks we put out there, 2 tons, crazy, right?

Most weeknights there are kids playing football and soccer games and tonight is no exception.  I always feel bad for the parents; they always look so tired rooting for their kids from the sidelines.  I can hear the sound of the kids laughing in the air and the sound of the coaches blowing their whistles.  I love how green and sort of unnatural the grass in the park looks with the large stadium lights on.   I know the grass is real because sometimes I’ll take my shoes off and just walk barefoot in it, it takes me back in time to my own childhood except there are no bee’s trying to sting our feet.    

I’m walking around with an extra spring in my step, it must be the new sneakers.  We live in the desert and the night air feels invigorating on my face.  It’s crazy that 2 hours ago it was 70 degrees and now it’s in the fifties.  The sky is clear and there is a beautiful full moon right over the center of the park, I stop to take it in, wow, it’s beautiful.  I think to myself why don’t I walk more, I mean come on, how lazy can one be.  The park has a great walking trail that’s a ½ mile all the way around, I’ve clocked it with my pedometer, “walk, fat ass, walk.”

The houses in my neighborhood seem to resemble “cardboard cutouts.”  There are about 5 different models that we had to choose from and the color selection was light tan, medium tan and darker tan, how boring? It made me happy a few years ago that one neighbor painted their house a totally different color.  As I walk around the different streets tonight it makes me smile to see others have followed suit and put their own originality in their color selection.  “We are not robots.”

I was under the illusion that the economy hadn’t hit my neighborhood but as I walk on some of the back streets I notice dark houses, dead lawns and notices posted on some doors and windows.  I know that my state has the highest foreclosure rate in the country and I see this first hand, it saddens me.  

I see the sun setting as I head west down one street and feel day and night collide, the full moon is directly behind me and the sunset directly in front of me.  I can see the silhouette of the mountains in the background being illuminated by the moon, really quite beautiful.  It sometimes feels like we live in a big crater with the mountains circling around the whole valley.  I stop in the middle of the street and just stare at the moon and realize what a small speck we are in the scheme of things.  We are just a planet floating around the universe and we are just little worker bees racing through life. 

I continue walking and turn on my street and begin to head towards home.  On the top of my street is a large mountain that I hear at one time was a volcano, it is a great back drop and wow, what a visual!  I wave to my neighbor who is just getting home from work.   My face and ears are so cold as I open the front door to my house that seems so “inviting” and “warm.” It’s amazing how much more awake and alive I feel since I left the house.  


– I’m taking another writing class and walking around my neighborhood and describing it using all five senses was my first assignment, so here it is.  

I’m a gum chewer, yup, “major gum chewer.”  I’m kind of sneaky about it at work; I lock it in my jaw almost like a tobacco chewer.  I just like to know that like an old friend, its there if I need it. 

As I’m leaving today and walking down the hallway I find a small piece stuck against my teeth that I didn’t know was there and I accidently swallow it.    I wasn’t quite ready for this and began to choke a bit and totally loose control of my bladder.  I don’t even have time to think about a “keigel.”  Then I follow up with spitting “uncontrollably” my gum into my hand.    

I proceed to open my hand expecting to see a remnant of my blue spearmint gum but no it’s a big old “loogie,” Jesus Christ, now I have wet under wear and gooey saliva in my hand.  Welcome to my world…

I know my mother will read this and think, “Did this kid grow up in a barn”. 

What can say, I find humor in the things we all go through but just don’t talk about. 

My blog should be called “What we think, but do not say.”

This morning was one of those mornings that I knew I should not have hit that snooze button one last time.  I just hate being in what my husband and I call the “ultra jam mode.”  I knew when I hit it for the fifth time I was pushing my luck.

I took my shower; toweled off, put my “root boost” in my hair.  I couldn’t live without that stuff, as Oprah would say, “love it.” I then proceeded to the kitchen to do who knows what, and this threw off the whole routine. 


 I know this is going to sound crazy but if I don’t blow dry my hair within a small window of time and it begins to “air dry,” the whole “good hair day” will not happen.   I just don’t feel like myself without my Rod Stewart “high hair.” 

Okay, so no matter how many products I try to put on I just can’t get the look I like.  “My day is ruined, my hair is too dry too blow dry.”  Oh, and my bangs were acting crazy too, going in 8 million directions and kind of getting in my eyes.  “Oh, I don’t have time to deal with this, I’m late,” so off I went to work feeling very uncomfortable in my skin. 

So,  I get to work, change into my uniform and slowly go to the full length mirror for “damage control.”  It’s worse than I thought.  I begin to pull out my arsenal of “hair products,” and my bangs, what a mess, they are all over the place and totally in my eyes.  Even though I was never a girl-scout I think “what would any good girl-scout do?”  


So naturally,  I pull out my small swiss army knife because I think “hey they have scissors on them.  I then proceeded to trim my bangs which was “super hard” with these tiny scissors that were almost microscopic.  I looked and felt very clumsy and got a lot of strange looks from my co-workers.  “Jeez, it’s not like I was cutting my toenails or something.”    

After my butchery job my bangs are all different kinds of lengths, how can they not be, right? They are almost like the way my Mom used to do them when we were kids.  Hey, maybe she used a little knife too.  To this day I still don’t know why we had such rough looking haircuts and uneven bangs.  I could have been the poster child for “pixies.”   Maybe she was secretly drinking lots of vodka martinis and was a little tipsy with the scissors, could be…


So at this point I’m feeling a little bit nostalgic wishing I had on my bellbottoms and desert boots because I sure looked like a throwback to the seventies.  

And as anyone who knows me knows,  I love any opportunity where I can showcase the famous family portrait of my sisters and I, check out our bangs.  That’s me on the left and that is what I saw staring back at me in the mirror, “pretty scary, right?”    

Let the good times roll…

I was in a nice calm “zen state” but I can hear my husband screaming at the telemarketers that always seem to call around this time each evening.  We are on that do not call list but a few always seem to slip through.  So, I turn up my headset (yes, Jackson Browne as usual) and my usual blogging attire:  pajama pants, loose shirt, no bra, warm sweater, and fuzzy socks.   Let the blogging begin…

We went down to Laguna Beach in Southern California for 5 days last week.  It was really awesome.  The weather was nice, the sun on my face was bliss, the sound of the surf soothed my soul and the soreness in my legs from walking was a welcome pain. 

I realized that I am a “motivational” junkie as I explored the local shops.    I found it so odd as I dumped my stash of purchases on the bed of my hotel room that a fellow blogger I follow was writing about how she loves motivational  quotes.  Life is strange how there are so many people living in this world that are so different but yet so alike.   Life is interesting that way.  When you take the time to get to know people it’s amazing how much we all have in common.  Everyone is just trying to find his or her own slice of happiness.  

All right, so here are some of the “quotes”  I saw and bought.  Many were just magnets or stones.  I think many of them would make interesting subjects to blog about, especially number one.  I was just drawn to them.   I also took sand, rocks, shells and small pieces of driftwood from the beach.  I’ll probably put them in some interesting jar from Pier One Imports near my desk. 

1)     What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?

2)    Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.

3)    Life isn’t about finding yourself.  Life is about creating yourself.

4)    Anyplace with a beach is heaven to me

5)    Dream

6)    Believe

7)    Laugh out Loud!

8)    All Glory comes from daring to begin

9)    The journey is everything

10) The best is yet to be
I noticed that I’ve been blogging for almost one year, wow that’s kind of amazing.  I’ve got to get busy; I’d like to have at least fifty posts by my Anniversary Date of February 28th

Well don’t want to make this too long.  Hope everyone has a nice week and to my family and friends back East I hope that snow stops, like yesterday!!!

I was in a nice calm “zen state” but I can hear my husband screaming at the telemarketers that always seem to call around this time each evening.  We are on that do not call list but a few always seem to slip through.  So, I turn up my headset (yes, Jackson Browne as usual) and my usual blogging attire:  pajama pants, loose shirt, no bra, warm sweater, and fuzzy socks.   Let the blogging begin…

We went down to Laguna Beach in Southern California for 5 days last week.  It was really awesome.  The weather was nice, the sun on my face was bliss, the sound of the surf soothed my soul and the soreness in my legs from walking was a welcome pain. 

I realized that I am a “motivational” junkie as I perused around all the local shops.    I found it so odd as I dumped my stash of purchases on the bed of my hotel room that a fellow blogger I follow was writing about how she loves motivational l quotes.  Life is strange how there are so many people living in this world that are so different but yet so alike.   Life is interesting that way.  When you take the time to get to know people it’s amazing how much we all have it common.  Everyone is just trying to find his or her own slice of happiness.  

All right, so here are some of the “quotes”  I saw and bought.  Many were just magnets or stones.  I think many of them would make interesting subjects to blog about, especially number one.  I was just drawn to them.   I also took sand, rocks, shells and small pieces of driftwood from the beach.  I’ll probably put them in some interesting jar from Pier One Imports near my desk. 

1)     What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?

2)    Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.

3)    Life isn’t about finding yourself.  Life is about creating yourself.

4)    Anyplace with a beach is heaven to me

5)    Dream

6)    Believe

7)    Laugh out Loud!

8)    All Glory comes from daring to begin

9)    The journey is everything

10) The best is yet to be

I noticed that I’ve been blogging for almost one year, wow that’s kind of amazing.  I’ve got to get busy; I’d like to have at least fifty posts by my Anniversary Date of February 28th. 

Well don’t want to make this too long.  Hope everyone has a nice week and to my family and friends back East I hope that snow stops, like yesterday!!!

I’m in my favorite Blogging attire:  fleece pajama pants, loose t-shirt, no bra, fuzzy socks, slippers and my headset playing some Jackson Browne.  Life doesn’t get better than this, not for me. 


I had a “spa” day with a couple of girlfriends this afternoon.  It was such a great day.  I really enjoyed getting into some serious discussions about life, religion or lack of it, ambitions, dreams, insecurities, and passions.    I love conversations that help me grow as a person.  It was one of those kinds of days. 


One of the ladies pointed out that I say this certain phrase constantly whenever I am talking.  She was doing it in a kind way and just making me aware of it.  I have been saying it for so long, why hadn’t anyone else ever told me.  She would touch her nose every time I said it; I’m surprised her nose didn’t fall off by the end of the day.  I know I have your curiosity peeked, “what is the phrase.”  I told her that when I “write” that “phrase” never appears.  “What do you think that means,” she asks. 


I think it’s about insecurities that we all have, it’s the baggage that we all carry from our childhoods.  The feeling of not wanting to be singled out, appear inferior to others.  I find that through my writing my authentic being appears.  This is who I am, the real me.  Wow, that’s just so powerful to me.  I just feel lucky because I feel like I “get it.”  I’m unique, I have dreams that I am trying to make a reality.  I’m excited about the future and what life holds for me if I leave myself open to the possibilities.






I’ve been back from my holiday vacation for almost one week and am slowly getting back into the groove of things.

I’ve signed up for another class that starts next month. What can I say, I like to learn new things. If I want to apply to that company I mentioned in a previous post I need to become proficient in this computer program. I will have to take a second class once I’ve completed this one. I don’t think I have the experience needed for the positions that I’ve seen open on their website but I’m hoping soon I will see one that will be a nice fit for me.

I had some really sad news from home that I am still trying to get a handle on. A neighborhood friend of mine from childhood died on Friday night. He was only 44 years old, married, 4 children and just an all around “great guy.” It just rocks you to the core. It’s a reality check that we are never promised tomorrow and we must live each day to the fullest. I’m fortunate that I was able to see him last week while I was home, never in my wildest dreams would I have known it would be the last time 🙁



The car ride home from the



I’ve been in my childhood home for the holidays this year and I have to say,  I find so much comfort in the “familiar.”

It’s still strange for me, the absense of my father.  I keep waiting for that distinctive sound he made when he would clear his throat or having him poke his head in the living room when he would have a commercial on the television in the other room.  

I guess I’m just feeling a bit melancholy tonight because my trip is coming to and end and soon I will have to say goodbye to my family. I’m never one that does well with goodbyes and I know I will shed some tears over the next day or two.

The airport drop off routine was always the same when my Dad was alive. He was always the one to drop me off, just him and I. I’d always have tears rolling down my face for at least 2 or 3 miles before we actually arrive at the airport. He knew this and would only ask questions where a nod was enough of an answer or he’d ask no questions at all. He would take my bag out of the trunk and place it on the curb, give me a hug, make a little small talk. At this point I cannot even look up, I can never say anything because I am a wreck. But I know he knows I love him,  so this does not need to be said. A quick hug and off I rush inside.

-the photo is from the movie, “Home for the Holidays.”