Settle Down There, Tonto

I just had a conversation with my sister over the phone about why life sucks so hard. She's got her master's, can speak Japanese, has traveled all over the world (that bitch), and now she's a hostess at P.F. Chang's. WTF?? Obviously, Little Miss Magic is not a happy camper. 

She's got a friend who works for the CIA. That friend hates her job, says it's not worthwhile. Not exactly sure what she does at the CIA, since they're so secretive and all, but I'm pretty sure I'd jump at the chance to work for the CIA. It's like one big government-sanctioned gossip factory. You get all the goods on everybody from Elvis to Kim Jong Il. Sadly, my, um, background? makes me ineligible to work for them. Fuckers.

And Lord knows I hate my job. You may think working in TV is cool, even maybe the news part of it, just a little bit, but no. Really. No.

Anyway, I gots to thinking. (Dangerous pass-time, I know) Why is everybody so fucking miserable? And I think it's because it goes against our nature. I'm not sure happiness is human nature. We always want more, more, more. Never settle for anything but than the best.

My mom has an anecdote about settling; long story short, don't settle, because all you'll ever see is what you don't have, and it'll make you miserable. But maybe settling is a good thing. It has a really shitty connotation, you think of it as just giving up, giving in, but that's not what it means. It means to satisfy, to soothe, to make stable, to agree. As in: to settle down, to settle your nerves, to settle an argument. 

So you're unsettled? You want more? We all want more. But when does it stop? When does more become enough? I think to be truly happy, we have to learn to settle. To accept what we have right now. To look around at what we've got and say "ya know what, I'm doing aight". Maybe it's not what you thought it would be, maybe it's not where you saw yourself (working at P.F. Chang's), but it's real. It's life. It is. So just sit back and enjoy it. Learn to enjoy it. And stop fucking whining already. You're giving me a headache.

I need more aspirin. 

You Might Be a Redneck...

My brother-in-law snapped this picture with his cell phone near my home town. I tried really hard to come up with something witty to say about this, but, dude, I failed. There is absolutely nothing I can say about this that will make it any funnier. I can't top this. I really can't.

Home

This weekend I went "home" for my mom's birthday. I stopped calling it home after I got married, usually calling it "Mom's house" or just "Delaware". But this trip was different. For the first time in a long time, I thought of it as home. And I was miserable leaving it. I went with Bebe, and we had such a good time. There were two big meals in my sister's garage with the radio blaring and the tables covered in newspapers: blue crabs, steamed shrimp, hamburgers, hot dogs, grilled veggies and local sweet corn. Even though I didn't get to eat much (too close to Bebe's bedtime), it was fun. On Sunday afternoon we all jumped in the pool, Bebe's first swim. She had a blast. There really wasn't much to our visit, just time with my family. But I didn't miss home. Not even a little bit. In fact, I cried when it was time to come back. I really didn't want to.

Why is home so hard? Walking around in my old back yard, I wandered over to the huge apple tree that was a victim of violent storms a few weeks ago. It had been ripped right out of the ground, most of its roots exposed. I feel a little bit like that, my roots unable to keep me grounded, so close to what I once knew, but unable to return. Our neighbor, my 6th grade teacher, died several years ago. His name is still on the mailbox, but no one lives there anymore. His wife remarried and moved away. The bushes in his back yard that used to be waist-high are now well over 6 feet. The trees are overgrown, the grass dying underneath, choked by the perpetual shade. I know we all have to move on, to grow and adapt; otherwise we'll end up choked by the world as it grows around us, over us. But I think we turn to home, or the idea of it, in times of stress and loneliness, in moments of uncertainty. I realize that I don't miss home. Rather, I miss what home used to be; or the ideal I choose to remember. I want that tree to be a sapling again, and those bushes to be low enough to hurdle. But I think more than anything, I want my roots to find solid ground. I want to see the sun. And I want The Ghost to turn back into The Saint.

O! Canada, Part Deux

And now, as promised, Canada. The land of beavers and mounties. Niagara Falls. The first thing we did upon arriving in this strange new land was have lunch at Hooters. Yea, we're like that. Guess what was playing on the 7 flat-screen plasma TVs hanging from the ceiling?

Hockey. And guess what the waitress said when we walked in? "Bad weather out there, eh?" Canada proves its stereotypes are not stereotypes at all, but absolute truths. We ordered ourselves some wings and Molsen Canadians (Seriously, what is that all about? They actually call the beer 'Canadian' in Canada. Weirdos). 

Then, on to the big show. The Falls. They really are quiet beautiful, if you can elbow your way past the 4.7 million other tourists hanging over the fence to take pictures. There is something awe-inspiring about the sheer power there. That continuous, low rumble; the ever-present mist hanging overhead, the savage beauty of nature in the raw.

These are the American Falls. Nice, huh?

These are the Canadian Falls. They're much better. Like most things in Canada. Even the damn ketchup tastes

better! I was gonna sneak some Heinz home through customs. But they have guns. And something to prove.

At night they light up the Falls so you can see them. Very cool.

And there's a fireworks display over the water. Also well-received.

*Note the traffic at a complete stand-still on the bottom left. It must be awesome living there.

The Falls after a few drinks at the casino bar

The only thing that took away from the experience -- aside from the teeming masses with camcorders -- was the cheese. There was so much cheese, you couldn't walk 2 feet without stepping in it. I was totally afraid to have a Whopper.

I counted at least 3 haunted houses, 2 wax museums, an Olde Tyme picture place, and a Ripley's Believe it or Not. It made me throw up in my mouth a little bit. I wish I had taken a picture of the wax museum. Louis Tussauds. Not to be confused with Madame Tussauds. Must be Louie's ex. She jumped ship and moved to the States, I guess.

That's my sexy new Mountie husband. How'd that get in here?

Those Canadians sure love their beavers.

To summarize Niagara Falls: savagery, awe, body odor, beauty, beavers, gambling, cheese, water, more savagery, Frankenstein, and hockey.

And I forgot my umbrella in Hooters.