Hitchin a ride

We're headin to St. Louis tomorrow to spend a couple of days with the daughter...funnin and sunnin on the ole Mississip. (I'm really glad Jules found a boyfriend with a boat!) And Stewie thinks he should go, too.

Nah. He couldn't care less that we'll be gone. He just thinks the suitcase is a neat place to be....


...as is the top of the bathroom door...


...in a basket, on top of the refrigerator...


...on the footstool...with his duck...


...and his most favorite of all places...up high on the ladder to the loft. He's the only cat on the block with his very own, human-sized cat condo.


'Course, when he's all pooped out, he likes to entertain us with his imitation of roadkill. He's good at it, too.


Don't let the cutsie-pie photo fool ya. Stewie (aka Mr. Surly) has the personality of a Tasmanian Devil.

I am a rock. I am an iiiiiiiisland.

Almost.

(Sorry Art & Paul. Poetic license, ya know?)




This is the lot directly behind our house...it'd be...southwest...sorta. And yes. The
river is in front of us.


Same lot (yea, it's a big one)...a little to the north of us.


This is our street...uh...our closed street...lookin directly south.

The poor little sump pump in the basement is workin like a mofo to keep up. So far, so good. It's brand-spankin new, so at least we know it's gonna be pretty dependable. I'm thinkin that by tomorrow, (unless the river crests tonight) we'll hafta park a ways up the street and wade in.

On a lighter note...

Well, I was gonna post a photo of that beautiful full moon last night, but Blogger must have a fart crosswise. Maybe later.

How high's the water, Papa?

How high's the water, mama?
Five feet high and risin'
How high's the water, papa?
Five feet high and risin'

Well, the rails are washed out north of town
We gotta head for higher ground
We can't come back till the water comes down,
Five feet high and risin'

Well, it's five feet high and risin'

Make that about 23 feet...and risin.


Yea, the girls are cute, but look beyond 'em...at the tree...and the beach. This was taken August 4.


This was taken this morning...same tree...same...uh...beach.


There are seven steps that lead down to the beach. Normally.


And the seawall is about...oh...I'd guess 6-7 feet tall. Normally. Now, it's maybe 4.


There goes all the wood Zig gathered up for a weenie roast this fall.

The river made the biggest jump yesterday...about 2 1/2 feet from yesterday morning til last night. It seems to have slowed down a little this morning. The neighbors on either side of us have a running bet involving a case of beer. Will the river come over the seawall? One says "Absolutely". The other says "No way."

I figure we shouldn't start gettin nervous until we see one of them gettin nervous...they've got a lot more experience with floodin than we do. Besides that, they're both waaaay closer to the seawall than we are.

On the other hand, our house isn't built up on a high foundation...like theirs is.

Meanwhile, we're mentally preparing to head to higher ground. And keepin our fingers crossed.

ChhhChhhChhhChanges...

Whatta pain in the ass

Changin your name, I mean.

Thirty two years ago, when I changed my name, things were a bit simpler. I didn't have so many things to change. My social security card and my driver's license...that was pretty much it. Even gettin copies of the marriage license was pretty damn simple. I walked into the little courthouse and asked for a copy. Boom. There it was. And it didn't cost me a thing.

Now...damn...I've spent the last two weeks tryin to get everything changed. And I'm not done yet.

First, make a trip downtown to the courthouse to get copies of the license. Fight traffic and find a parkin place. Dig out a couple quarters for the meter because, gawd knows, it's far more important for Peoria cops to write parkin tickets than it is to solve the fifteen murders so far this year. Through the security scanner and the armed guards. Wait in line. Fill out a form. Then give 'em $15 bucks for two copies. Holy shit!

Then to the social security office, where I expected a full-blown cluster-fuck. I walked in and saw a whole room-full of people in various moods, ranging from complete boredom to nearly full-blown rage. Swell. I took a number and figured I might as well get comfortable...it was gonna be a loooooong wait.

Eleven (count 'em...11) minutes later, I was walkin out. I'm not kiddin. I was amazed. I guess, compared to some of the other "problems", mine was the simplest to fix, so they did me and got it over with.

Ok, so that wasn't painful, at all.

Changin my name on my nursing license...well that proved a little more difficult. First, find the State's website. Then go to the Department of Professional Regulation's site. Then try to find the information about changin your name...I dare ya. After 20 minutes of frustration, I finally find it, print out the form to send in, fill it out, go dig out my license because I hafta send it in with the form...oops...forgot to enclose a copy of a copy of the marriage license.

The bank. Geeze. Do y'all know what a pain in the ass it is just to get someone's name put on your accounts? Just sign a signature card? Not anymore. Paperwork. Fuckin paperwork. And another copy of a copy.

Car insurance was a snap. A phone call and poof! My insurance went down by 12 bucks or so. That was a nice surprise, too.

I could write a whole post about my experience at the driver's license place. But I'll spare ya. Let's just say I'd rather have a hot poker shoved up my...uh...nevermind...than hafta do that again anytime soon. And some of the old farts that they passed on the eye test! I mean...I was sittin right there and I could tell that one old guy simply could NOT read one of the lines...he tried like five times...even SAID, "I just can't see it." Finally, the gal rolled her eyes and said, "Ok, you're done." AND GAVE HIM A LICENSE!

Two hours later I was done. Two hours. At least my photo is fairly decent. For a change.

I still hafta make the changes at work, which calls for yet more copies of copies of copies....and Zig needs my copies of copies of copies for the medical insurance crap.

Gawd knows what else'll pop up that needs copies of copies of copies. But I'm gettin pretty good at usin the copy machine.

Now if I could just remember to use my new name when I sign all this stuff.

Oh...and the real kicker? Ya know all those copies of the marriage license that you have to have when ya change your social security card or driver's license or anything else? They don't keep 'em. THEY DIDN'T EVEN READ 'EM! Just looked to see I had one.

Shit. If I'da known that, I'da changed my name to "Angelina Jolie".

I'm going green

Won't Al Gore be thrilled?



See this? It's a double hibiscus. The Zigster can't remember the name of it, so he calls it a "sea-biscuit". The damn thing bloomed all summer...always had five or six big blossoms on it. Right up until the wedding. When I wanted it most, naturally. Then, nothin. Nada. Zip.

I had wanted to use some of the blooms in my bouquet...or float some in the little kiddie pool. Ha. Like I said, nothin.



And this. See this? It's a lisianthus. Zig can't remember the name of it, either. So he calls it "Lizzie's anus".

See what kinda guy I married?

Anywho, I wanted to use some of this in my bouquet, too. But would it bloom then? Noooooo siree, Bob. Nothin. I'd had it for a couple of months...so it should have bloomed by then. It had buds on it, even. I dunno what happened to 'em, but they sure as shit didn't show up for the weddin.

But now? Just look at all the blooms. They stare at me through the glass of the front door. Mocking. Jeering. It's like they're thumbin their little noses at me.

I'm thinkin very seriously of goin all green next year. No bloomers at all. Just fillin every pot I have with a mix of greenery.



Like this. It's a mix of coleus, springerii fern and vinca vine. I've got two big pots of those and just look! Full and lush and beautiful with very little care. None of this picky deadheadin or special fertilizers. Water. That's it. We've watered 'em and let 'em go.

Yup. Screw all those beautiful, picky, tempermental blooming plants.

Fuckin prima-donnas.

I bet poor ole Elvis is rollin in his grave

(Though I suppose if he had an erection, he couldn't roll over...right?)

I dunno about you, but I find it highly ironic...on several levels...(not to mention just, plain wrong...somehow)...that one of his songs is being used to tout Viagra.

"Viva, Viagra! Viva, Viagra! Viva...Viva...Viagra!"

I mean...c'mon....for one thing, The Pelvis was s'posda be such a great cocksman, wasn't he? Elvis doan need no steenkin Viagra!

'Course, there at the end, I imagine his poor ole arteries pretty much resembled those peanut butter and banana sammiches he was so fond of. When the plumbin gets plugged up boys, ain't nothin gonna work the way it's s'posda, right up to...uh...down to...the ole Johnson.

Hey, if blood can't get through the arteries, your

corpus cavernosum

is gonna remain as unfilled as a broke, aging starlet's swimmin pool.

No wood. Not even a splinter.

For another thing, he supposedly died of a heart attack on the shitter, right?

"Ask your doctor if your heart is healthy enough for sex."

Yea. Like the ole Elvi-heart was healthy enough for sex. I mean the guy couldn't even pinch off a loaf...let alone knock off a piece...without keelin over.

And the guys in the commercial look soooo happy. They all sport these really goofy grins. And I suppose they want ya to believe that they all have these enormous erections.

Yea, right. They're sittin around, singin this stupid song instead of out bangin all the dollies, so why the hell are the dumbasses grinnin?

Kee-rist. Kill me. Kill me, now.

I ate the last mango in Paris...

Your Scent is Mango

Sultry, sweet, and mellow You enjoy every moment of life!

What's Your Girl Smell?

Swiped from

Leslie

.

Pleasantly surprised, arent'cha?

Two posts in one day...that have nothing whatsoever to do with the Cheeseburgerweddingpalooza.

Ok, so that's not exactly true. I just wanna mention one thing, then I'll stop with all the wedding shit.

Our "semi-pro" photographer/neighbor isn't semi-pro, at all. She's a freakin amazing photographer.
She stopped by yesterday afternoon with our wedding gift...7 copies of a slide show DVD that she'd made of the wedding eve, the wedding and the reception/party, complete with six Buffet tracks that we'd picked out beforehand.

Oh. My. Gawd. It's awesome! I just wish there was some way I could set it up so y'all could see/hear it. Anybody have any ideas on that? Especially since our DVD writer/reader/thingy on the computer seems to have bitten the big one. It'd be great if I could send a copy to someone and have them set it up for me. (hint hint)

Anywho, if anyone's plannin a weddin or some other event that they'd like a DVD made of, or just want photos, shoot me an email and I'll send you her name and contact info. We highly recommend her.

Now for the real reason for this post. We have some new Peoria-area bloggers!

I'll be the first to admit that I haven't checked 'em all out completely. But what I've seen I've liked, so maybe you will, too.

In no particular order:

Go check out Reno of

BlargenBlog

. He's a brand-new daddy, smart as hell when it comes to computer stuff and he's funny, too. I had the pleasure of meeting him at the first

Peoria.com

forum bash.

Next in line is East Bluff Barbie of

Askewed News

. I love sarcasm, and this gal's got it...in spades! Love her take on local news.

I don't know Kevin of

The Usual Suspects

, but he's a lawyer and he likes beer and pizza, so he's ok in my book.

Last, but certainly not least, is Sue of

My Flock Rocks!

. She's been a frequent commenter here and has become a great pal through our shared love of flamingos and all things "tropical". She's also the one that brought the really cool "cheeseburger" cookies to our wedding.

Ooops! Forgot one...
...as Kevin so politely pointed out. DO go check out

Grandma's Attic

. She's a smart cookie, too. But lookin at her photo, I'm havin a hard time believin she's a grandma.

What's this? Some newly-developed glitch in my personality?

Great. Like I need another one...



Our friends, the Irreverent Reverend JoeBob and Jeff, cruised up on their wave-runners...ski-doo's...whatever they're called...yesterday. I was tickled to see 'em. And when Joe invited me to give his a try (his wave-runner, I mean), I didn't hesitate a bit. Just threw on my suit and a pair of shorts and I was ready.

I'd always thought they looked like so much fun, but had never had the opportunity to try one, so I was stoked.

I fucking hated every minute of it.

Ok, so hitting the waves sideways while I was riding on it with Joe was kinda fun. Gave the ole crotchal area a bit of a pounding, but in a nice way, ya know?

But what puzzles me, is that I was terrified most of the time. Though I've never had one before, I think it was an anxiety attack. I was shaking, sweaty (ok, it was hotter than hell out there), and felt like I couldn't get enough air.



For the life of me, I can't figure it out. I'm absolutely not afraid of the water. Even though I'm not a good swimmer, I can dog-paddle like a mofo. And lemme tell ya, honey...fat floats real good...my ass is the best personal flotation device ever invented.

I'm not afraid of boats, per se. Love 'em, in fact. Been on big ones, small ones...not a problem.

I wasn't afraid of dumpin it, like you'd do on a motorcycle. I mean, I know you can get swamped by the waves from boats and get flipped, but it wasn't like I was goin anywhere near the rest of the maniacs out there yesterday.

I was a little bit concerned with gettin out amongst the rest of the boaters. I wasn't sure I'd be able to take any kinda evasive action, should some bonehead with one of those small-penis syndrome boats inadvertently take aim on my fat ass. But there was plenty of space for me to putt-putt around where the big boats dare not go...out of the main channel...so that's all it was...a mild concern.

I was even terrified when I got on it with Joe drivin. And believe me...I'd trust him with my life. Well. Most of the time, anyway.



To be honest, it was something like what I imagine agoraphobia feels like. I was out there. Exposed. Even though I was driving...I was in control...I was at the complete mercy of whatever river-boogie could befall me.

And that just totally and completely pissed me off. I wanted to love it. Everything that I know about myself told me that I should...I would love it. But I didn't.



The Zigster however, took to it like a carp to water and loved it.

Will I try it again? You betcher ass. By gawd, I will, and I'll like it.

But I think I'll try to cadge an Ativan or maybe a Valium from someone, first.

Or maybe a couple-three stiff shots of tequila.

Ok. Maybe four or five.

Gettin tired of these, yet?

Tough.

Yesssssss. More Cheeseburgerweddingpalooza photos.

Teeeeny, tiiiiny "cheeseburger" cookies. Made by frequent commenter "luvmingos", who's become a great pal. Aren't they the cutest thing you've ever seen?


The obligatory "rings and license" photo.




Doesn't he just look like a riverboat captain? He cruised by here in the Spirit of Peoria on Monday and fired off a few "hello" honks on the ole calliope. Very cool!


The Irreverent Reverend JoeBob toasts the happy couple. He had us hold out our hands, Zig's on top of mine, looked at Zig and said, "Remember this moment...it's the last time you'll ever have the upper hand."
(I hate to tell 'im, but I've had the upper hand for a loooong time. heheh)

Good gawd. I forgot my new husband's birthday.

Well, damn near forgot. Only happened to remember it when I walked by the card section in Target...at about 2 this afternoon.

With all the excitement this past weekend, it just slipped my mind. And that's one reason we picked August 4 for the wedding. He'd suggested his birthday, but since it was on a Tuesday this year, we opted for the weekend before.

I didn't get him anything. Figured he'd already gotten the best birthday present ever. Me.

Shaddup.

I did get him a cute card, though...after standing there and entertaining myself for 20 minutes or so, readin 'em. (Wonder if people look at me strangely while I stand there and laugh...all by myself?) On the front, there's a caricature drawing of the now-elderly Mick Jagger and Keith Richards...singing "I can't get no...circ-u-lation..." hehe

Here are a few more photos.

I'll post more as they come in. The really good ones (from our semi-pro photog neighbor) are still probably a week or so away. She's puttin 'em all on a CD for us.

I'm not quite sure....


I'm pretty sure this was a self-portrait.


Anybody know where Snicarte is?


I'm thinkin this was some kinda fish story.


The Irreverent Reverend, Joe.




Lotsa huggin goin on.


The Zigster and his older (and balder, as he never fails to point out) bro.

Well.

Where do I begin?

I honest-ta-gawd forgot to put my underwear on.

I was fine during the ceremony, but I almost didn't get out the door as the weddin was about to start because I was sobbing so hard.

And, for some strange reason, I licked the knife after we made the first slice in the cake.

Other than that, the wedding was fabulous!

Earlier in the week, weather reports said it'd be miserably hot and humid. But that morning, current weather reports called for anywhere from 30 to 70% chance of thunderstorms. It figured. All the planning, all the prep had gone flawlessly. Because we really didn't have a backup plan for rain, I thought surely this would be the catastrophe that had to happen. A big-assed thunderstorm just as the weddin started.

Poetic justice. Karma. Whatever.

But it just didn't happen. Despite a few clouds, the weather just couldn't have been better. It was downright cool, in fact.

In no way, shape or form, was it your "traditional" wedding. But it was the way we wanted it and it turned out perfectly. I do think a few people were pleasantly surprised at the casualness of it, though. One guest, in particular, was suprised. Every time I saw him, he said, "This is GREAT! Really great!" I think he was just tickled that he didn't hafta wear a suit.

I was kinda worried that I'd be sorta...anal...about everything. I can be that way sometimes. But honestly, it was so casual, and so easy, I really didn't worry about a thing (well, except the whole 'no underwear' thing when I was tryin to do the hula hoop...I kinda worried about that)...just had fun.

My daughter, Julie, was a big help, as was Melissa, her friend that she'd brought along. And our good friends, Jack and Karen were just the best. They helped with everything from setting up the tables to cookin the cheeseburgers to...well...whatever we needed help with. And our neighbors! They were just awesome, lending tables and coolers and offering anything we needed.

One of our neighbors noticed that Karsin (my 7 year old granddaughter) kept snaggin one of our cameras to take photos. She (the neighbor) is a semi-pro photographer and she went and got one of her cameras for Karsin to use. I mean...like...a fancy digital. With lenses and everything. She patiently explained to Karsin how to use it and turned her loose. That kid was havin a ball! And she was takin some damn good photos...in fact, the one of the face-up Sponge Bob was one of 'em.

Anywho, sometime later, Jules (my daughter), with a stricken look on her face, called me in the house, sayin, "This is serious." When I walked in, Karsin was sobbing. Seems as though she'd just "set" the camera down on the sink (uh huh)...and shattered (what I thought) was the whole lense.

Still sobbing, Karsin bravely told the neighbor what she'd done. Thankfully, it was only a filter. The neighbor said it was about three bucks to replace, hugged Karsin and told her to stop crying and gave the camera back and turned her loose again.

The wedding gods smiled once more.

The only thing I regret was that I didn't have more time to spend chatting with old friends and gettin to know some new ones. I tried to make the rounds, but tended to get distracted. (Ohhhh! Sparkly!)

The Zigster was definitely in his element, though. He's quite the raconteur and entertainer. In fact, he and Jack did an absolutely rousing rendition of "Oklahoma" for the guests. Someone took a great photo of the two of them, Zig with his mouth wide open and his hand flung up in the air during the "finale". Don't worry. I'll post it when I get it. heh

He got an especially meaningful wedding present from one of my bestest pals, too. A summer squash. Yup. A great big yellow summer squash. I'll tell ya the story one of these days. hehe

Ok, you're probably yawning, so I'll stop here by saying it just couldn't have been more perfect or more fun. Hell, I laughed so much my face hurt Sunday morning.

Bet you're sorry ya missed it, huh?

Oh. And yea. We got a clean knife for the rest of the cake. heh

Cheeseburgerweddingpalooza

It was the perfect locale and the perfect day.

I'll do a loooong narrative at some point. Maybe later today. I'm still feelin a little...ah....verklempt.

Captain Harold enjoys a little pre-wedding libation. But only ONE. He had a job to do, ya know?






Yes, we really got a couple of hula hoops as gifts. Unfortunately, we tried to use 'em.




A pre-cursor of the morning after??

And this would be the "after" shot

Here are a few pre-Cheeseburgerweddingpalooza shots.

My babies...


...and me.


Looks a little...apprehensive...don't he?








Hey, it was a Cheeseburger in Paradise wedding, after all.


Can you find the REAL garden fairy?


The Zigster doin a little pre-wedding prep.