Anyone ever had their car stolen? Well I have....twice. About a month ago, we got back from a trip to AR and returned to find my husbands 91 toyota pick up had been stolen. It was such a sad feeling. This was the truck I had gotten when I was 15 and drove all through college. But they recovered it. At a $85 charge to us for the impoundment. So things were good.

Until, Wednesday morning.

Ben teaches at a high school and was leaving to go to work. We said our usual byes. Then 30 seconds later he came back in. "Your not going to believe this" "What" "They stole the toyota again." Our Complex has been hit really hard this summer by car theft. An astronomical amount. But this morning they called "We found your truck and you can pick it up. And bring the $85 too." I am really getting tired of these charges. That's 170$!!!

This make me want to get a gun and if I ever get to catch these son's a bitches, I'd like to just shoot them. Not really to kill them but just to stop them long enough till the police could come and slap them in jail.

Can you believe this?! I couldnt. The first time I was sad. This time I was MAD!!

TODAY I took David to his first day of Pre-K. He looked so adorable in his uniform and backpack. He goes till 12 5 days a week at the Christian school where I teach art. But I cant figure out why I am so jittery. I have left him at Mother's Day Out since before he was 2. I keep wanting to go back and look in the window. OHHHHHHH. My baby. As Clair Huxtable use to say.

DWIGHT RULES!!!

I really wished I had had a chance to write this earlier but in the evenings I really begin to reel from my so called "morning" sickness to really get on the computer. But Ben and I went to Floore's Country Store in Helotes on Friday night to enjoy to twangy lyricks and tight pant twisting anticts of Mr Yoakum. Even though he didnt take the stage until 10:30 and I was fighting sleep on the wonderfully comfortable picnic tables that encircle the huge dance floor in front of the stage at this outdoor dance hall, it was totally awesome.
Floore's is a small venue and really laided back. Like I said picnic tables. They even sell tomales and fahitas and homemade sausages there. Once Dwight took the stage everyone stood up. We were about 3 picnic tables deep from the edge of the dance floor which was a good 40 feet from the stage.
So once he finished his rendition of Cheep Tricks "I want you to want me", we parted fromthe picnic tables and headed throught the crowd of swaying cowboy hats and drunken two steppers. The concert was great and by the end of it we were about 15 feet away from Dwight. He came back for an encore and finished with "fast as You" how nastolgic.
I regret he didnt play Jody's "Sittin Pretty". Especially since I have never heard the full version of it. And it really wasnt intimate enough of a setting to just walk up and go "hey I know Jody Evans". But we loved it and plan to see more shows there.
Willie Nelson Oct 9.........oh yeah baby.

Headline on USAToday.com:

Outage Clues Point to Michigan

Headline on MSNBC.com:

Power Failure Clues Point to Ohio


Nothing like consistency, I always say . . .

Imagine it with me for a moment . . . The future Governor of California and the most popular man in Germany in the same place, at the same time! It was reality, my friends.

Ok, my first post. And it will be about how much I hate my morgage broker. We are in the process of buying our first house. And the lady who is the broker is on my hit list. Her name should have tipped me off. Roxanna. How finacially sound does that sound. She always seems so rude when I have to talk to her and always pissy cause I really can't answer her questions. Then she just couldn't get pasted the fact that my husband doesn't really have a daytime phone where she can reach him at.

The conversation went something like this:

- Is there a daytime number I can reach your husband at.

- Well, he works at Southwest High School. You can call and leave a message.

- Will it ring at his desk in his office.

- Ummmmm, he's a teacher......

- He doesn't have a phone in his classroom?

- (confused chuckle) Uhhhhh, no.

That was pretty much the clencher. Now tell me how would that go. " Excuse me class let me take this call. We'll get back to the fall of the Roman Empire when I get off the phone with my Ditsy-Assed-Mortgage Broker!!!!!

By the way, it sure is nice to see that Miss Jeanetta is on board! Now if we could just get a real post from her . . .

Well, I've invited Ron Willoughby, my former pastor and the man with whom I shared my literal back porch last night. Tobacco and good ol' whiskey until 1:30 . . . good times.

Love is . . .

Love is knowing and being known. Love is loving others. Love is about $1.98 a pound at Kroger. Love is a state of mind. Love is a state of consciousness. Love is The State of Arkansas. Love is a smell. Love smells kind of musty. Love is playing with a baby. Love is a way to make a baby. Love is long walks in the park while holding hands. Love is long walks in the park while holding a fistful of leashes in one hand and a scoop and bag in the other. Love is talking on the phone late at night to an old friend. Love is talking on the phone late at night for $5.95 for the first minute and $.99 for each additional minute. Love is feeling - feeling love. Love is coming across an old movie that you love on television. Love is coming across a television that you love in an old house and helping yourself. Wait, that is stealing. Love is stealing – stealing love. We only steal the things we love. If you love something you stole, set it free. A good place to do this would be a pawnshop. Love is taking a shower, even when you think you don’t need one. Love is taking the stairs instead of the elevator. Love is never kicking anyone down the stairs unless they really need it. Love takes time. Time is money. Love takes money.

A fat man walked down to the back porch
To see who was hanging out there.
He had two green eyes, and full cheesy thighs,
And a huge pompadour of hair.

He headed on down to the back porch
Expecting to find his old pals.
Instead he found none, not even old John
Who invited him there in some emails.

So he sat down alone on the back porch,
In a creaky old rocking chair
That would squeak, and quake, and started to break
Under the magnificent weight of his rear.

He had such high hopes for this back porch.
He had brought along drinks in a chest,
Guitars to pick, pork ribs to lick,
And cigars to raise female protest.

But he was alone on the back porch.
Without even an old dog to pet.
So he sniffled and sighed and started to cry
‘Til the front of his shirt was all wet.

Are we allowed to drink beer on the porch?

It's a pleasant evening out here on The Porch . . .

How about a first post?