A Note From the Kentucky Coast

A few years ago, Todd and I took what turned out to be one of my all-time favorite vacations, to Seattle, the San Juan Islands, and Mt. Rainier (Todd doesn't go to vacations with just ONE destination. Does this really surprise you?).

For some reason, ever since I was about high school or maybe college-age, I had just KNOWN, deep in my heart, that Seattle was a very cool place to be. Turns out, I was totally right, and I still say that if I ever win the lottery or otherwise become suddenly wealthy, I am moving there, STAT.

But -- this post is not about the many cool things about Seattle, it is about one very uncool thing that we encountered there.

We stayed in a cool (of course) hotel in the University District, which had a breakfast buffet every morning in the room that turned into a jazz club at night (cool, huh?). One morning, I was sitting there, eating my hard-boiled egg, and waiting for Todd, who was doing something obscene, like jogging, or something. I'm sure I was reading a book, and was in no way looking to make friends with anyone.

Unfortunately for me, I chose a table next to some woman from Idaho who was in town visiting her son at the University of Washington. She was, apparently, looking to make friends, and chose me.

"So . . . where are you from?

"Kentucky," I replied, in what I hoped was my not-quite-unfriendly-but-definitely-not-friendly voice.

"Oh." (reflective pause) "Do you have JOBS?"

Seriously. Do we have jobs? Like, where we wear shoes?

The conversation did not improve from there, and in fact deteriorated to the point at which Idaho lady very earnestly inquired as to whether we expected to suffer damage from the hurricane which was, at that time, pounding the East coast. You know the East coast, right? The one that ISN'T ANYWHERE NEAR KENTUCKY? (Actually, through the whole trip, we encountered similar people who, upon hearing we were from Kentucky, would say things like, "OH! I have a friend in Atlanta, do you know her?")

I'm sure by now, if you're even still reading, you're wondering what the hell this has to do with anything at all. Well, believe it or not, it is TOTALLY relevant, because last week, Hurricane Ike completely lost it's little hurricane mind, and blew all the way up to KENTUCKY, into Louisville, and through my little street, and knocked my power out FOR A WHOLE WEEK. That's seven days, folks, and I had to count them all without the benefit of lights, air conditioning, or a COMPUTER.

So, Idaho lady, I humbly apologize for making fun of you and your silly hurricane question for three solid years. That was TOTALLY my bad.

Things I Wouldn't Know If I Didn't Have Little

I'm sure you will be glad to know that in the time since my last post, I have not been just LAZING around doing nothing. Nope, I have been learning lots of cool stuff.

For instance, I learned that Miley Cyrus made 2.1 million dollars last year, and the only reason that she didn't make the 7 million that the kids from High School Musical made is that unlike those ho-bags, she doesn't debase herself doing endorsements and ads for various products.

I also learned that it has now been comfirmed -- CONFIRMED, I tell you -- that "7 Things I Hate About You" is, indeed about Miley Cyrus' ex-boyfriend Nick Jonas. This is obvious, of course, to anyone who has seen the video and noted that the dog tags she is wearing are actually Nick's diabetes alert tags.

I learned that thinking about a teenage singing sensation wearing the diabetes alert tags of her singing sensation boyfriend, in lieu of something passe like a class ring, just gets funnier and funner the more you think about it.

I learned that when hanging out with a 12-year-old friend, sometimes you will go see movies that you wouldn't ordinarily see, like maybe, oh, I don't know . . . HOUSEBUNNY . . . and you will find that the movie is actually hilarious (even funnier than diabetes alert tags) and that you laugh longer and louder than the actual 12-year-old.

I tell you what, I can feel myself getting cooler the longer I hang out with that kid.

Bless Our Hearts

Just as soon as Olympic-fever subsides, I get caught up in a new obsession: the Democratic convention.

Hated Hillary's speech, loved Bill's, thought Michelle's was very solid (and her family frighteningly Camelot-like), and teared up to Joe Biden's son. Right now, I'm listening to poor ol' Al Gore while blogging.

Poor ol' Al. I can't seem to say his name without putting "poor ol'" in front of it. (Kind of like I can't talk about my niece Maddie without adding, "Bless her heart." She just seems to require a bit of extra blessing. Bless her heart.)

Poor ol' Al is that quintessential uncle that everyone has -- the one who is just so damn nice, and gives you such nice presents, that you desperately WANT to be interested in what he's saying, but blast it all, he's just . . . well, boring. Bless his heart.

One of the reasons I think of him as "poor ol'" is that for him, it must be extra heart-breaking to think of how close he came to winning, and how close we all came to NOT being in a senseless and endless war, to NOT worrying incessantly about gas prices and budget cuts.

Seriously, it'll still break your heart if you think about it too much.

Something else that broke my heart today? The elderly lady with dementia who was in court trying to get back the money she posted for her granddaughter's bond. I'm sure you can guess that granddaughter skipped out and left her high and dry. The worst was when the judge asked her how much it was, and she said, "One hundred and FOUR dollars," in such a reverent and awe-stricken voice that you just knew that $104 meant something necessary and unattainable to her.

I guess that's the place we're all in now, where a lost $104 dollars may mean not having luxuries like dinners out, or it may mean not having necessities -- like dinner.

It's a fascinating and exciting time; tonight we will see the first African-American presidential candidate nominated by a major party. Tonight is the beginning of our chance to make up for the past eight years. I hope everyone is watching. I know I will be, and I will be thinking about that one hundred and FOUR dollars the whole time.

Reflections on the Ky State Fair

Oh, Kentucky State Fair, how I love you. You come around every year, faithfully, and give me new things to think about. Here's this year's Top Ten:

1. Whoever's idea it was to shut down the MAIN GATE to the fair at 5:00 p.m. on what would probably be the busiest day of the whole shebang is going straight to hell. I am so not kidding.

2. Bunnies are universally cute, but ANGORA bunnies -- with their slightly disheveled, prom-queen-the-day-after look -- are the absolute cutest.

3. Some people, although they deserve at least an Honorable Mention for their Caramel Banana Jam and their Tawny Port Wine Jelly, AND their fair isle knitted Christmas stocking, get nothing, and that is sad.

4. Other people, who sweep ALL the jam and jelly and fruit and vegetable categories, might want to give someone else a chance at some point. And I don't care what the rules say, if your address is Charlestown, INDIANA, you might REALLY want to step aside.

5. While we're on the subject of Christmas, I have seen what I want from Santa next year, and it is a Nigerian Dwarf Goat. I will love it and pet it and call it George.

6. In some parts of the state, mullets are still in, as are mohawks.

7. Babies, by which I mean those folk under the age at which they can stand unassisted, really should not be at loud beer tents, performing their first table dance to "Brown Eyed Girl" at 11:00 p.m. Nor should they be encouraged to raise their tiny little fists in the air to ANY tune by Hank Williams, Jr.

8. If I can see your ass poking out from under your clothing, and you are standing straight up, you are not wearing a skirt. That is a belt.

9. Gold lame dresses and gold high heels are NEVER appropriate for a state fair. On the other hand, RED COWBOY BOOTS have been confirmed to be most fashionable, even in August with a mini-skirt.

10. I'm serious about the cowboy boots.

Today's Political Rant

Okay, this has been bugging me for several days, and I've finally just got to say it:

John Edwards, was that piece of ass really worth everything it cost you?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

I was SUCH a fan of John Edwards. For months, I walked around whining that Edwards was totally getting the shaft, that the only candidates anyone could focus on were those spotlight hogs, Hillary and Barack, and that we were going to miss out on the best candidate.

And boy howdy, was I wrong.

I keep hearing things like, "Well, his wife was in remission when he had the affair," and "Well, the baby isn't his," and my personal favorite, "Well, she's forgiven him, so we should too."

And all I can think is this: what if Edwards had won the nomination?

We would lose the presidency. Again.

We would lose the country. Again.

Maybe if I were married to John Edwards, I would have enough love for him to forgive him for such a devastating betrayal. Maybe I could forgive his risking our marriage and our life together.

But I can't forgive his risking my country. I can't forgive his taking such a chance with MY future.

I wonder if he thinks it was worth it?

Someday I'll Write a Real Post Again

Ack. Forgot to post. Here's an update:

1. Dropped off my Ky State Fair entries on Sunday, and am anxiously awaiting the results. I have high hopes for that blasted Christmas stocking.

2. Been totally captivated by the Olympics in the past few days. Seriously, is there anything cuter than that men's gymnastics team? So wholesome, so disgustingly all-American.

3. Changed my haircolor. Again. This change prompted the following conversation with one of my Sunday School students:
Him: Didn't your hair used to be black and white?
Me: Yep.
Him: Do you know that now it's black and purple?
Me: Yep.
Him: Why don't you have kids?

4. Signed up for Facebook. Apparently, I don't have any more high school and college friends than I did . . . well, when I was in high school and college.

5. Saw The Dark Knight and it was totally depressing. Heath Ledger's dead, Morgan Freeman's divorced, and Christian Bale is a DV perp. Saw Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants with Little, and it was much happier.

6. Finally gave into the summer reading temptation of the Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter novels. And, now I'm hooked. Darn those fascinating vampires!

7. Broken things around here are multiplying at an alarming rate: Both digital cameras -- broke. Laptop -- broke. Car -- broke. Sunglasses -- broke. (Okay, so that last one I broke myself in a snit when I lost my car keys AGAIN. None of the rest are my fault.)

Vacation Good, Bad and Ugly

HELLO!!! (waving hand frantically, in hopes that someone is out there)

I'm back! Did you miss me? Did you notice I was gone?

It seems like it's been forever since I've clicked on "new post" around here, but I guess that's what vacation will do to you. Given the state of the Lewis family computer (half-broke) and both Lewis family cameras (also half-broke), I wasn't able to do my usual trip play-by-play for the blogosphere, but rest assured, we did indeed go on vacation.

Last Sunday we scooted out of town and headed for Asheville, North Carolina. I had never been there before, and I can give it an only slightly qualified thumbs up. The thumbs up is due to lots and lots of fabulous restaurants, really cool shopping (if I were an "alternative smoker" I would have found lots of shops for my "alternative smoking" needs, if you get my drift, wink, wink), and a serious micro-brew beer scene. The slight qualification comes from the fact that I was TOTALLY a crime victim while in this town.

Yep, my wallet was "lifted," as they say. I was a might peeved (read: fucking pissed off), and even more so as the charges started to roll in on my checking account. I am quite the considerate crime victim, as my wallet was full of the following: my checkbook, a check written from Todd to me, my debit card, two credit cards, my driver's license, and my social security card. Not to mention my Qdoba card, which entitles me to a free chips and salsa on my next visit.

We got stuff mostly taken care of, meaning the bank and both credit cards have refunded all the money that was spent. Oddly enough, a detective called me before we got home on Saturday, and said that the wallet itself had been recovered, so it's being mailed back to me and I'm hoping my ID is in there. Even odder -- today, in the mail, I received my checkbook, stamped "found loose in mail." Weird, huh?

So, anyway, we left Asheville for less crime-ridden pastures of Bryson City, where Todd did a lot of fishing, and I did a lot of loafing around the little town.

And for those of you wondering what crazy thing Todd got me to try this time, I have three words for you: white water rafting. Yeah. All I can say is, I did it, and the fact that I cried for the first two miles doesn't discount that fact in the slightest. I did it, and I don't ever have to do it again.