…if you work in an office, that is.
Or, maybe you just like to keep things interesting.
And, by interesting I mean freak-people-the-hell-out with your lunchbag.
You need this shit, y’all.
When you’re wearing these:
Yep, those are my feet tucked securely (and cool-y) in my new Converse All-Stars.
Suddenly, I feel like a 10-yr. old. I want to climb rocks and ride bikes and stay out late watching for lightning bugs.
And all because I fell in love (again) with a pair of sneakers like the ones I used to wear as a kid. Only, back then you didn’t have color options.
Unless your color of choice was white, then you had all kinds of options.
I certainly didn’t expect a pair of sneakers to act like a Twilight Zone episode (remember the one where all the old folks go out one night and become kids again playing “Kick the Can”?) on me, but they did.
And now I’m going out to play. Call me when it’s time for supper!
I have a cure, so put down the bottle and just breathe.
So, if you haven’t laughed so hard you peed your pants yet this week…..
But first, be sure to have an extra pair of underwear on hand..or Depends…whatever floats your boat.
Plot dynamics! Interesting characters! Humor! Action! Adventure! Romance! We’ve got it all right here!!!
In the strange land of “reality” television lives a program called “Finding Bigfoot”. I have always had a fascination with the Yeti, Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or whatever you call it regionally, and distinctly remember watching the grainy footage from the late 1960’s over and over as a teenager.
Imagine my delight when flipping through the 586 channels on my cable box one day I found an entire hour devoted to nothing but the search for Bigfoot. I watched the person who was soon to become my favorite – Bobo – trying to re-enact the stance and walk of a ‘squatch someone had seen somewhere in the woods of Northern Maine, and even though the too-skeptical Ranae and the too not-skeptical Matt get on my nerves from time to time, I am hooked and watch the show whenever I remember it’s on. And, if I miss it it’s replayed like elebenty-billion times throughout the week, so I usually catch it at some point.
Now, comes an actual scientific study that may prove the existence of the ‘Squatch. I’ll admit that hearing the DNA results both scared and fascinated me.
I still would like to meet Bigfoot….maybe we could swap venison recipes….right after I recover from the heart attack.
I have been hugely irritated by something for a reaaaaaaaaaaaalllllly long time, and you folks are the recipients of my diatribe.
Yay you..and me.
What in the name of all that is pretentious is up with a) subdivision and b) street names anymore?
We may have subdivisions names:
*Preston Oaks, Preston Hollow, Preston Hollow Oaks, The Lakes, The Lakes on Preston, The Lakes on Preston Hollow, The Hollows on Preston Lake, The Lakes on Oaks at Preston Hollow, and The Lakes on Preston at Oaks Hollow.
And that’s just the N. Dallas area.
There are streets named:
**Arbor Trails, Rolling Meadow, Trails End, Arbor Glenn, High Meadow, Blue Glenn, Arbor Blue Trails, Glenn Rolling Meadow, and End Arbor Blue Trails.
And those may all be found in The Lakes on Oaks at Preston Hollow.
None of the above involve hollows, oaks, prestons, lakes, arbors, trails (okay, maybe trails are involved), glens, meadows, rolling, blue, or high.
This is prairie-land. Stretching as far as the eye can see, a ‘hill’ is anything a foot above the ground.
So why all the pretense?
It irritates the hell out of me and always has. Do we really have to think we’re so uppity, in our tract homes, to have high-brow sounding names for our neighborhoods and streets?
Honey, as my mama says – a house is a house is a house, in Bent Tree or Bee Tree, the only difference is the price you pay.
And, for all our *creative* use of words meant to evoke the Scottish Highlands – good grief, there is actually an area here called “The Highlands”…it’s not – we suck at naming cities.
Flower Mound – I imagine the naming went like this: “Bob, what will we call this lovely patch of land?” Bob, looking at the pile of dead petunias in his yard his wife just removed after they died from the heat, “I know! We’ll call it ‘Flower Mound’.” The rest is history.
Grand Prairie – it’s flat, it’s big, it’s a grand prairie
White Settlement – yes, it is named for what you think it’s named for, but no longer applies…of course.
Oak Cliff – and by ‘cliff’ we mean a rocky hill, overlooking the highway
Cedar Hill – the lone survivor, a cedar tree sits on a hill three feet high
Farmer’s Branch – some guy named Farmer cut down a branch one day……….
I’d about given up all hope of ever finding one neighborhood that was properly named, that would evoke the kind of feelings that would make me want to live there.
Until one sunny day in October one year, when I was traveling the southern portions of the Metro-OMG-does-it-ever-end-are-we-in-Mexico?-plex and I passed a big sign carved into rocks marking the entrance to the most epic and amazing and I-want-to-live-there neighborhood of all time.
Sleepy Hollow the sign proclaimed.
The entrance was overgrown trees, shrubs that needed a trim, and even a few flowers here and there. There was ivy partially covering one of the signs. It looked lovely, dark, deep, and creepy.
I had to see this.
I turned around as soon as I could and went back to Sleepy Hollow.
I was not disappointed as I inched my car along the twisty, turning, switchback-like roads that took me deeper into its dark recesses. Oak and Maple and other benign-sounding monikers adorned the normal-looking street signs.
It was very quiet. I saw not a soul, I could see birds flitting from huge oak to huge oak and it got darker as I drove further, turning down road after road, until I began to wonder if I’d be able to find my way back out of this seemingly-endless subdivision.
It was all very Sleepy Hollow-esque, but the best part was the houses. I swear, if Frank Lloyd Wright didn’t actually design some of these homes, he was definitely an influence on the person who did.
The entire place was, in a word, awesome.
And then, I had to leave and I drove past The Lakes on the Shore of Glenn Trails, and didn’t see lakes, shores, glens (okay I did see a couple of guys, one of them could have been named Glenn) or trails and it was back to reality.
*there may or may not be subdivisions bearing these names…if there aren’t there soon will be
**ditto about the may/may not on the street names
***these are real towns…the explanation for their naming…meh…maybe