Trails.
Comments (5)I found this site where you can highlight any trails you’ve taken, and it will give you an idea of how many miles you’ve gone. It’s pretty nifty, especially when you realize the GPS was left in the car.
The red line shows where we went a couple of weeks ago, and the blue line shows our trip on Saturday.
The area is called Santa Rosa Plateau, and it’s only 5 minutes from our house. I haven’t totally crashed yet, just had a few run ins with trees and bushes.
There are signs posted everywhere telling you to watch out for mountain lions, but I find myself more cautious of the abnormally large piles of horse crap.
St. Maarten, here we come!
It’s official, we’re going back to the Caribbean! Too bad it’s not until May. The pictures I’ve seen of it are, of course, beautiful. Because the island is so small, landing an airplane can be a little tricky; as seen here:
Half of the island is owned by ze French, and half is owned by de Doitch. Europeans are known for being a little free spirited when it comes to nudity, so maybe you noticed the guy in the bottom right of that picture??? Too funny! That should make for an interesting trip!
We’re both really excited, and going on a tropical vacation will give us some additional motivation to get to our goal weights! Who knows, maybe we’ll be in a picture on the internet basking in the sun, or standing naked watching planes land??
In Hawaii you get leis when you land, in St. Maarten you get to see private parts packed with sand and shells. What if somebody had seaweed stuck somewhere? Are you supposed to tell them? “Excuse me, sir? Were you aware that you have a piece of seaweed lodged in your crack, and a sand crab on your peter??”
Mode Evader.
Hot.
Hope to see all 2 of you there!
Uselessness.
Below is a list of some interisting, and pointless interweb finds:
* Panoramic pictures capture the beauty of Asian infested lands.
* Banana Guard? Why didn’t I think of that? I guess I’ll leave the thinking up to the happy doctors.
* What would life be without a Yodelling Pickle?
* Is your food too hot? Try this method to cool it down.
* Brightly colored band-aids? Sponge Bob? Barbie? Bacon? Now it can look just like the scab you’re trying to hide in the first place.
* What new-born’s nursery would be complete with out some stuffed… dolls?
* Always on the run? No time to get to the gym? It’s OK! You can just answer your dumb-bell phone! Why didn’t they just use nickles to weigh it down?
* Now you can enjoy the salty goodness of Play-Doh without eating all those empty calories!
* Do you suck at every game you play? Now you can actually stand a chance against your opponent in the challenging game of Rock-Paper-Scissors.
* And finally, what would bath time be without a little fun?
Bingo!
Last night a group of friends and I went to play Bingo. It was my first professional expierience with it. I had no idea what to expect.
My first observation was, of course, the old fogies, then I saw all these ladies had their custom crocheted, quilted, or patch-worked “Bingo Bags”. I only had my new green dabber and my water bottle; was I prepared enough?! Some people had 10 dabbers! What could you possibly do with all of those at once?!
Each game has a different pattern that you try to get. The first was a regular Bingo. 5 boxes in a straight or diagonal line. The first person yelped “Bingo!” so loud I almost fell out of my chair. The next game you had to do a palm tree pattern, which looked nothing like a palm tree. I’m sitting there, dabbing away at all my numbers being called. B15, Bingo!, another blue-haired lady shouted. I only needed ONE more number! O75! Then my friend looked at my card, and informed me that O75 had in fact been called already! So I said “Bingo”… of course… not with the determination that people in the next county could hear me, but I still said it! Then I hear a group of hags say “It’s too late! No! No! It’s too late!” Too late?! Give me a break! Since we made friends right off the bat with an older gentleman host, he made his way over to me and took my card to confirm that I did have a legitimate Bingo. He took it up front to the announcer, who’s microphone was still on, and they were discussing on whether or not I called it too late. The rule is that you have to call Bingo before the next number is called. They never said the next number, so I figured I was safe. The announcer said that he felt it was too late, and I wouldn’t be awarded the prize money, once he said that a white-trash, toothless lady sitting a couple tables over from us started clapping and laughing and shaking her head directly at me! She was the only one doing this, mind you. Well, she didn’t know that our new friend, the older gentleman, actually convinced the announcer to award me 1/2 of the prize money. While this angry bitter hillbilly lady was giving my entire table dirty looks, and staring nonstop, I was handed 25 bucks! Then my friends started clapping and laughing at the lady who didn’t get her way. I waved that 25 bucks right in front of my face, smelled it, then slowly put it in my purse, all while smiling and showing her my full set of teeth.
Now I know what to expect for next time. Old ladies, in general, are pleasant to be around, but get them around their Bingo cards and dabbers, you’d better WATCH OUT!
Eye see blue, green and gray.
A friend of mine forwarded me this article from the International Herald Tribune. It’s basically stating that blue eyes, in particular, are becoming extinct. After further, research I’ve learned that all light-eye colors won’t be around for much longer:
If the U.S. Census Bureau has it right, the 300 millionth American entered the United States kicking and screaming on Tuesday morning.The odds are that this milestone American is a boy, born to a white family in a California suburb. He will have a 1-in-4 shot of graduating from college, will probably marry, father two children, struggle with his weight, and live to see his 85th birthday.
What he will probably not have — that his grandfather likely did — is a pair of blue eyes.
Once a hallmark of the boy and girl next door, blue eyes have become increasingly rare among American children. Immigration patterns, intermarriage, and genetics all play a part in their steady decline. While the drop-off has been a century in the making, the plunge in the past few decades has taken place at a remarkable rate.
About half of Americans born at the turn of the 20th century had blue eyes, according to a 2002 Loyola University study in Chicago. By mid-century that number had dropped to a third. Today only about one 1 of every 6 Americans has blue eyes, said Mark Grant, the epidemiologist who conducted the study.
Grant was moved to research the subject when he noticed that blue eyes were much more prevalent among his elderly patients in the nursing home where he worked than in the general population. At first he thought blue eyes might be connected to life expectancy, so he began comparing data from early 20th- century health surveys. Turns out it has more to do with marriage patterns.
A century ago, 80 percent of people married within their ethnic group, Grant said. Blue eyes — a genetically recessive trait — were routinely passed down, especially among people of English, Irish, and Northern European ancestry.
By mid-century, a person’s level of education — and not ethnicity — became the primary factor in selecting a spouse. As intermarriage between ethnic groups became the norm, blue eyes began to disappear, replaced by brown.
The influx of nonwhites into the United States, especially from Latin America and Asia, hastened the disappearance. Between 1900 and 1950, only about 1 in 10 Americans was nonwhite. Today that ratio is 1 in 3.
With the exception of an increased risk of macular degeneration (blue eyes are at greater risk) , eye color is biologically indicative of almost nothing. Boys are 3 percent to 5 percent likelier to have blue eyes than girls, but beyond that it’s a non-issue — physiologically speaking. The cultural implications are another story.
Preferences for fair skin and blue eyes stretch back in Europe to at least the Middle Ages, according to Hema Sundaram , author of “Face Value,” a book about the history of beauty. For women in particular, especially those of European descent, fair skin and light eyes have long been seen as indicators of fertility and beauty.
America adopted those biases early on, and Hollywood reinforced them by anointing a long line of blue-eyed blondes such as Marilyn Monroe as the nation’s sex symbols.
In the 1930s, eugenicists used the disappearance of blue eyes as a rallying cry to support immigration restrictions. They went so far as to map the parts of the country with the highest and lowest percentage of blue-eyed people.
So consumed were Americans with this ideal that in the ’70s and ’80s the fashion models who exemplified the All-American look were typically Scandinavian, said Katie Ford, CEO of Ford Models in New York, which has been in business for 60 years. But in the past decade those standards have begun to change, and Madison Avenue has taken note. The look advertisers want today favors honey-colored skin, brown hair, and green or brown eyes. The most successful models are coming from Brazil.
“Advertisers want the idealized form of the general population,” Ford said. “Someone with perfect features but who the everyday person can relate to.”
But even as blue eyes give way to brown, lighter eyes will maintain a certain allure, said Carolyn Kaufman, who teaches evolutionary psychology at Otterbein College in Ohio. When people see something pleasurable, their eyes dilate, Kaufman said. Dilated pupils signal happiness and are, in turn, considered attractive. Since they are easier to see on lighter eyes, they have a natural appeal.
So I got to thinking… I’m not really sure what color my eyes are. I’ve compiled a set of snipets from some of my pictures, so that I could compare. I think the most dramatic differences are in picture 2, where it looks gray, 5 & 11 look to be green, then 7 is clearly blue.
I’ve checked out Wikipedia to see what other information I could find. Talk about too much information! I just want to know what color to put on my driver’s license! My first license said green, my current license says blue. I guess I can just keep trading off with the colors, but I want a definite answer!
Green? Blue? Gray? I wonder if I can convince the DMV to put “Grelueray” as a color.
Interwebs… O how I love thee…
Ok, seriously… how did I ever survive without the internet?
My phone has been being a douche lately. All of a sudden, the trackball stops working. Lame. I finally had enough and was about to pack up and head to the AT&T store, where I would have to deal with complete morons who think that since they were trained on how to run a credit card through, they automatically become some cellphone deity.
I knew the problem was just that my ball was dirty. That’s right…. dirty ball(s). I just couldn’t figure out how to get it out of the casing.
Long story short, Google’d it, found the solution, fixed it! It took me 5 minutes to fix. Hot.
Remind me to thank Al Gore for his beautiful contribution to my world. Oh, wait…. not that.
In memory…
Today marks the two year mark of my Auntie Jo’s death. It was two years ago that my parents, husband and I were at Sam’s club when we got the call she was going to be put on life support. I remember everything so clearly. My dad got the call and told Ant and I, and it was decided that we wouldn’t mention it to my mom, her only sister, until we got home. Once we were at my parent’s house, my dad broke the news to my mom. We left in less then 5 minutes and headed to Downey.
On the ride to Downey the car was silent. I never once thought to myself that I would need to say good-bye. She’s always made it through anything. Miscarriages, childbirth, breast cancer, chemo, addictions, ovarian cancer, and another round of chemo. I wasn’t particularly worried about it, given her history.
When we arrived at the hospital, I gave hugs and kisses to other family members that were there, it was the same vibe. Nobody seemed worried, or scared, that this could actually be “it”.
I waited by the door for a nurse to let me in so that I could say hi to my Auntie Jo. My dad was already in the room with her, holding her hand and talking softly in her ear. Only two people were allowed in the room at one time. I walked in expecting to see her smiling face. The smile that always welcomed me, and made me feel special. I was expecting her to get up and hug me. I would bend my knees and hunch my back to flaunt that I was almost a foot taller than her. She would laugh and pinch my arm while calling me her “favorite niece”. But… she didn’t get up. She didn’t open her eyes. Her breathing was heavy and labored. Her skin had a slight tinge of green. She wasn’t yet on life support, so I figured that we still had another step to fall back on if she couldn’t breathe on her own. I held her hand and rubbed her arm as my dad talked to her. He told her we all loved her, and everybody was outside waiting for her to pull through. He told her I was there next to her. I kissed her cold forehead. This wasn’t my Auntie Jo. I put my hand over my mouth to muffle my cries and whimpers. I no longer had the confidence that she would be ok. I kissed her again, told her how much I loved her, and left the room so that my mom could see her.
I walked slowly toward the exit and stepped outside. It was a beautiful day. There was no smog, which for Downey is extremely rare. I sat down with the rest of the family on the cold concrete wall. I sat with my cousins, her two eldest kids. I couldn’t think of anything to say. We sat in silence. A few hours passed and my dad suggested that we step away for a while to clear our heads and get some lunch.
As we were finishing up our food, my dad’s phone rang. His face went pale, and all of the expression left. I heard him say good-bye, yet he kept talking. He told the voice on the phone to let the dogs out. Odd, I thought. He made it seem like he was talking to my brother. As we got up from our table and made our way to the car, he gave me a look. I didn’t read it correctly. He went around to open the door for my mom, and whispered to me “stay close”. Again, I didn’t get it.
We were driving for five minutes when he darted the car over to the right side of the road. My mom looked at him and asked what he was doing. He put it in park, she started shaking her head. He said, “That was Rod on the phone,” my mom still just shaking her head, “she’s gone”. By this time my mom’s whole body was trembling and she kept screaming “Not my sister! Not my baby sister!” I was speechless. How could this be? She’s a survivor! My dad got out and ran to my mom’s side of the car and held her while she was crying, and screaming. This went on for what seemed to be 20 minutes. I didn’t cry, I sat in my own silence, staring out of the window. My stomach was in knots, I felt sick. I needed to get back to hospital to be with her kids, I needed to do something other than just sitting here and waiting. I needed to see her again. I needed proof that this was all real.
When we pulled up to the hospital, my uncle, her husband was on one knee in the grass, Ashley and Jordan, her two eldest, were hugging each other. I walked up to them and we all held each other, still in shock. Not knowing what to do. Nobody said anything.
Finally we all made our way inside of her room. Again I touched her hand, kissed her forehead, and left.
I think about her everyday. Not about her death, but her life. She has the four most amazing kids and a kind loving husband who would have done anything for her.
At her funeral, my brother wrote a thoughtful speech/poem. It shows her great compassion for her family and life:
<———————->
Auntie Jo
I envy those of spiritually sound minds today. Though I know, to be out of body is to be with the Lord, I don’t think I can ever make sense of her death. There is only so much logic and thought a man can apply before he falls on his face in pain, and asks God for help with a tragedy. Thank God, blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
The bible says the prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective. Last Saturday when I heard my Auntie- Jo was put on life support, I remember wishing my great-grandfather was here so I could ask him to pray for her. For, I am far from righteous, and my prayers felt weak.
Tell Her:
Thank you for shielding me from my dad’s amusement. You were the voice of reason when my dad went to the freezer to grab a couple ice cubes to slip in my diaper. I am sure I chased my diaper for hours on end like a dog chasing his tail. His Friday night glee was your horror……..
Or the time when my dad told me to look real close at the chu-chu train cake. ..Victor, look closer. No. Closer! As his hand reached behind my 4 year-old head to smash my face in the cake, your hand was reaching for the washcloth……..
And of course, my dad could never turn down a sour lemon to place on my tongue as a baby. Your voice echoed ..VIC, STOP.., even though I am sure you enjoyed a laugh when I wasn’t looking………
Tell her my mom is sorry for dropping me on my head at 2 weeks old. Your words …you killed my nephew before I even got to see him.. may seem a bit uncomforting to my mother. But, I as look back I can take pride that someone cared for my safety……..
Tell her:
I was never too cool or too old for her to stop being my auntie jo…….
I wept before God and begged him to remove the cancer from her body……
My heart broke when I heard she passed……
When I was 4 and Grandma Joe Ann died I told my dad I wanted to shoot God with a bee-bee gun……
I can’t say I didn’t have the same childish anger and hurt when she died……
The joys of my life are less joyous without her……
On my day of marriage I will miss her……
The day my child is born, I will miss her……
When I hug my uncle Rod, I will miss her……
When Ashley gets married, I will miss her……
When Alaina graduates high school, I will miss her……
When I get wind, that Carrisa has a boyfriend, I will miss her……
When Jordon gets married, I will miss her……
Though she always thought of me as inspiration to Ashley and Jordon, they now inspire me……
Tell her Thank you for the compliments……
..For seeing me.. through a set of seemingly magic bottle caps, that some how made me appear stronger than I am, smarter than I am, and better looking than I am……
I will miss the times when my dad would play the guitar as she sat in enjoyment……
I will miss the times when my mom had someone she can call who she could just talk to……
I will miss the times when she laughed at Desirae’s humor……
I will miss her pot roasts……
I will miss telling Carissa to ask if it’s okay for her to go with me to Starbucks for a hot chocolate……
I will miss overhearing the council she would give to Ashley and Jordon in regards to their spiritual walk…..
Her death is tragic……
There was not enough time…..
Tell her, if life had a regret column, this piece of paper would be at the top the list……
I love her, and will always miss her……
<———————->
She is missed and thought about daily, but she lives on through her three beautiful daughters, her one handsome son, and everybody whom had the privilege to know her.
Don’t eat that.
I went to Barnes & Noble last night looking for some good reading. I came across a book entitled “Eat this, Not That”. On the cover it shows a Burger King Whopper with cheese, and a McDonald’s BigMac. The cover suggests that the favorable choice is the BigMac. Interesting. The BigMac is, or seems to be, a much bigger meal.
The Men’s Health website is promoting the book, they’ve dedicated a complete section to it. They’ve created a quizwhere you can test your knowledge of which you feel is the healthier choice. I was surprised to learn that a hamburger is worse for you then a chicken burger, or a slice of cheesecake with fruit topping is favored over a slice of chocolate cake.
They have also made a list of The 20 Worst Foods in America. Ouch. The majority of the foods are found in restaurants we’re all familiar with, and have even dined at over the past few weeks.
The next time you place your order, either at a drive-thru speaker or at a sitdown place, remember to opt for the cheesecake and burger, and know that there’s worse things you could be eating.
Morsel of facts:
My name is Desirae Dallasann Winter (Wright):
I really do like my name. Of course I did go through a spell of HATING it. I wanted to be called Natasha or Jessica. I was named after a Neil Diamond song, “Desiree.” My dad didn’t like that spelling though, and decided to spell it exactly how it sounds, “Desirae”. My middle name, Dallasann, is a mixture of my grandparent’s names. Dallas, my mom’s father, and Ann, the middle name of both my grandmothers.
I am a connoisseur of firearms:
When I was younger, the family’s brouhaha was our seasonal hunting trips. Dove season opens days before my birthday, so a lot of birthday time was spent plucking feathers, and wringing necks. No, I don’t do that anymore, and it makes my stomach hurt knowing that I would rip bird’s heads off. Gross. Now I shoot for fun. I absolutely love to shoot skeet. Some day I’ll actually try to compete and make some money off of it! For my 21st birthday, my dad bought me a 12 gauge, Silma over-under shot gun. By far, my most favorite gun to shoot from our arsenal.
My husband and I, both, sleep with a loaded guns in our nightstands. On my side there is a Kimber .45. By far my prettiest (sorry Ant) gun. I take my Eclipse Target II out sometimes just to stare at how sweet it is. There is a huge sense of security knowing that if Ant isn’t home, I can stand a chance against an unwelcome home invasion.
Maybe I should have had an entire post just for guns. I feel like such a red-neck hillbilly…. but one of the best smells in the world is that of a barrel that has just been shot out of. It’s like the smell of fireworks, but 14 times better! Another awesome smell is a clean gun! I would probably purchase perfume if it was labeled “Clean Oily Gun”. These smells bring back so many happy memories with friends, and family members that are no longer around. That probably sounds really bad… They’ve all died of natural causes, no gun shots wounds… actually…no… nevermind.
I need to surround myself with lists:
Whether it’s packing for a weekend away, or going to the grocery store; I need to have a list. If I don’t make a list, I won’t be able to do anything else, but think about things or items I may forget. And no item likes to be forgotten! It’s super annoying, but I am always prepared for anything. I keep a detailed list of every person that I’ve slept with. It’s quite lengthy, but you’re more than welcome to take a look. Sex List.
I struggle:
Patience – I’m pretty sure that a body’s recipe calls for at least 8 cups of Patience, however, I was only blessed with a tablespoon. Although, I feel that I’ve picked some up along the way, as I used to have just a pinch.
I have 4.75 super senses:
I can smell sneezes. I can taste a few drops of Root Beer, in a tall glass of Dr. Pepper. I can hear dog whistles. Thanks to LASIK, I can see street signs… ok, that’s not really anything to write home about, but it still amazes me that I’m done with glasses and contacts!
I am a wife:
