Before I go committ more oblivious acts....

Okay! Enough "serious" posts although I appreciate all of your comments, well wishes and support, truly. But we have been crazy busy and many funny things have happened...and I could quite possibly share them all before my SE and I embark on a "retreat" (trail ride in the midwest...it ain't mud baths and champaigne!) I'm trying to talk myself out of being "completely" honest....but as you know, I have such a hard time doing that...just be glad I'm not putting up the pictures...not that good at photoshop...

To start with? I burned my ass. I got butt hurt over the whole deal. I got a case of the 'red ass'...my ass got chapped. Forget every euphamism you just heard and quit trying to analyze....sometimes things are just what they seem...I, literally burnt my ass.

For those of you who don't know..I AM a chic...and although I try my damndest to pee in the scale house when I'm weighing in...don't always happen when you got 50 trucks going in and everyone is freaking out...and don't always happen when you get back to the field to look for a little "privacy"....in a field with over 10 men...all moving. So when you find yourself on the far end of the field, the lonely wind whistling with silence (translation: no men operated machinery crawling up your backside), you realize quickly...you have an opening of perhaps, a minute, in which to relieve your poorly treated bladder while lamenting the 32 oz. fountain drink you just HAD to have on the way to the field.

No time to waste! Grab a paper towel! No time to crawl under the truck! Just drop your drawers right next to the door of your truck! You'll be back in the field in 15 seconds flat with no one the wiser!

Just remember your exhaust pipe is there as well and is capable of leaving a 3rd degree burn in less than a second.

Oh boy was I pissed...but glad for the empty fountain coke as I had ice to stick down my drawers. Refused to tell anyone until hours later...after ascertaining we had left the first aid kit at home (a mistake we will not make again!) when I showed my ass to Alryna...

Now, it's not usually good to "show your ass" to your employees...they generally show theirs' back, right? I had to pick mine up off the ground as she was laughing so hard. Having done that she informed me she had liquid benadryl for insect bites? Perfect...but I couldn't see my own ass to put it on. She did it for me.

We had a moment, yeah, we bonded...and at this point we were both laughing so hard it was hard to accomplish the first aid portion...I mean, c'mon? How much dumber could I be?

So, that was the main focus of laughter for a bit...but trust me, we (I) was getting up at 5:00 am, we left at 6:00 and got home 10:30 or so? LOng, hard days...at that point? EVERYTHING was funny...me burning my ass was just a bonus round.

But then, and I have to preface..we were chopping triticale...which looks a lot like wheat. You know, tall, long thin stalk...with a head at the end with itty bits of grain in it? Well, the swather (huge lawn mower thing) goes through it and mows it down in a "windrow"....which is what your mower would do without a bag...but all the wheaty things are laid out like corpses, head on on end, feet on the other. My SE would go round and round the field but the chopper would "plug" up more on some rows than others...

SOOO, at 6 the next morning when we're headed to the job Heath asked my SE, "Hey? Do you prefer it butt first, or head first?" (Alryna and I are already about to giggle..) and SE doesn't miss a beat..."I prefer it butt first myself...it's easier..."

How could I not tell him that there is no way he's getting head second?

Told you I couldn't resist! Okay, THAT madness is over (caught up on some sleep so hopefully more intellectual humor on the next one instead the toilet variety!).

And now? We're leaving Thursday to go to a redneck trailride in KS which is ALWAYS a blast...and usually full of drunk redneck stories....but I'm steering clear of exhuast systems and will not get drunk enough to show off my new "heart" tattoo at the top of my butt....probably looks like a broken heart by now anyway.

12:09..Happy Mother's Day

Okay, yeah, so that's weird...Mother's day was 4 days ago...but not in my case...today is My mother's day and I want to give a shout out.

Picture it: September 1968. The third daughter of a Baptist minister falls for a really cute navy guy, in uniform, about to go overseas. Maybe she's like me, maybe she feels deeply and seizes moments....and the next thing you know, she's pregnant, and he's gone.

Mom and Dad throw you out...casting sin stones that pellet your pride as you pick up what's left of your childhood and try not to slip on the tears of your innocence. Your aunt (unmarried and surely, unscrupulous) takes you in and sets up an appointment with a hospital that takes unwed mothers, who wish to give their children up for adoption.

What to do?

You ponder, cry, pray, wail, pound the walls....

And then what? It seems inevitable....The life within you deserves a chance...deserves more than what you can provide at this point in your life...there are so many loving couples, good parents...who would love to have a child.

Each and every day, for months you feel me growing, kicking...maybe you curse me, maybe you smile but cut it short, knowing I'm destined for another, never to be yours again.

Then, I'm here, May 14th, 1968. They never let you touch my face. Was it broken then? The bond?

You wrote the most beatiful letter to my parents...asking them to always let me know your'e sacrifice was out of love, not selfishness. They gave me that letter on the day I turned 21...which was Mother's day....you gave birth to me on Mother's day...when you were 21...my emotions weren't what I expected.

I've always felt the need to say this one thing...."Thank You". And I sense you've always wanted to hear one thing, "I forgive you"...there's no forgiveness necessary...thanks is what you deserve and even that is inadequate. Your strength, unselfishness, courage and love....is....maternal in the most holy way.

Today is the day you made the ultimate sacrifice for me, your child. Today is the day I think of you most, wondering if you think of me...and knowing you do. I get quiet on my birthday, and it's usually a day I want to spend alone...not in a melancholy way...but as a tribute to one of the most benevolent, strongest women I don't know...my birth mother. Happy Birthday Mom. Happy Mother's Day.

You closed your letter with a scripture: "To give birth is to be a mother, to feed a bird on a snowy day is to be a host to God".

My name is Robin...God knew where I was going...and thank you for getting me here.

I'd like to meet you...do you look like me? Do you have the same weird habits I do? (btw: you profile said you loved to read and wrote poetry and were above average in intelligence! Did I get to swim in the deep end of that gene pool?!!!!)

But this was intended to be a tribute to the courageous woman who gave me life...and so it is...her courage: astounding...her sacrifice: unimaginable,

Happy Birthday....You're in my heart and my blood and I love you...thank you.

"Fun With Dale and Jane"...

I am super, over-the-top blessed regarding my parents. It's sooo tough raising parents these days and at the risk of sounding arrogant, I must say that I did an excellent job with mine. When I was 16, they didn't know a damn thing, they were idiots and short-sighted and small minded. But as I got older, they got a whole lot smarter. It was tough..but I've finally got them to a place where they are wise and wonderful and amazing. Am I good or what? They are now smart, far-sighted, and open minded and it's all due to me. Just amazes me how much smarter parents get the older I get. Even my friends parent's are smarter than they were back then and they didn't have the expertise of my coaching...crazy...

I'm sure most of you have had the same results with your parents (probably not as astounding as my own..but I'm sure you see improvement as you've grown up, right?), but I will give you an overview of mine...a barometer if you will.

My Dad graduated from High School here in this town, joined the army for two years to pay for his college...worked as a butcher apprentice in college for four years to get through and get his degree in Ag Business (he wanted to be a farmer, alas, he was was poor). He was born into a family of 7...his Dad was a Pentecostal preacher...he has supported himself since he was 10.

My Mother was the ninth child out of ten. Her Dad was a farmer, a deacon in the Primitive Baptist Church (I was confused and Buddhist by the age of 9!) She went to work at the bank here in this town after high school. Then my Dad, fresh out of college, the ink not dry on his diploma, moved back here to make his mark (By the way? He was voted "Most Handsome" all four years of HS! He's soooo cute still!)

He woo'd and courted Miss Jane and won her heart. They married when Mother was 21 and they had my brother seven months later. Don't bother doing the math, it was the 50's and she was Baptist for crying out loud! My brother was born premature, with severe cerebral palsy. They didn't know it at the time...here's my Mom, with her peers..and their kids are starting to sit up, or crawl...and my brother is doing none of these things.

Rounds of doctors...cerebral palsy, incurable...Mom didn't give up and explored every single avenue to cure Chris. Of course, nothing worked. They told my parents he wouldn't live past the age of 15.

They couldn't have anymore children...they adopted me (Good job God.) when Chris was 10 and I was 3 weeks old. My Dad broke his back. My Mom had 3 infants to care for! How did she so do that?! Chris can't walk, or talk like normal people (we know what he's saying, Mom more than anyone...) Mom told me once, that if she'd have known, at the time, what was in store for her, she might've collapsed, but that God doesn't give us more than we can handle...and she just put one foot in front of the other, every day (see how good I am at raising parents?).

Well, I grew up, but Chris didn't...(I kicked a little girls ass in the airport one time for staring at him...don't get all pissy, we were the same age but I was protective of my big bubba!) My Dad's back healed. I was a royal pain in the ass and went off to college and became a royal pain in the ass from a distance...

Bottom line, my brother was not supposed to live past age 15...he's 50. Dad is 76 and still runs his business (rides his stationary bike every morning for miles at a high rate of speed that I can't keep up for 2 minutes...much less 30...damn that clean living...) He goes to work at his petroleum business by 7:00 a.m. Mom is 73, gets up...gets Chris up and ready for the day (lifting and carrying, he can crawl and help...) Makes lunch. At 12:30 they're all at the office. Mom does accounting for over 400 customers, Dad and cousin Coy bust their butt...and Chris makes the rounds on his "hoveround" and makes the town a better place. No one can be ugly around him.

He's sunshine...the littlest things make him happy. He get's tickled all over and shakes and laughs and everyone laughs with him and the world takes on a lighter hue with a rainbow over his head...you smile.

Then you look at Dale and Jane...and marvel at these people who've cared for a soul who requires almost as much care as an infant...for over 50 years, they're in their 70's...and they survived me as well. Cast iron parents...I did well.

But I have memories...I don't know why I was suprised that my parents do as well and they pop out at the oddest times! I was in my Dad's office and he introduced me to a "new" customer he said, "This is my daughter, Robin" and the guy said, "I didn't know you had a daughter!" (I get that a lot! I'm a well kept secret! I was gone a long time? Were they hiding the fact? LOL!) I stuck my hand out and we shook and the conversation started up, "what do YOu do?..we custom silage harvest....you? building a ferilizer plant...she has a degree in psychology...really? and you drive truck?..." And then Dad said something that floored me..."Robin is a writer...." Wow! He always told me to pick something in sales as it was the only way to "make money"...writing was a "pipe dream"...you know the score!

This guy looked at me oddly and Dad went on, "I'll tell you a funny story....we read to her and for awhile we thought she'd taught herself to read...until we realized she'd memorized the book!" Well, that's still nothing to sneeze at, right? I'd heard this story but I was suprised when he went on...."The funny thing is, she wanted to learn to read sooo bad and we told her she had to go to school to learn how to read...the first day she got home from her first day in kindergarten she was mad as all get out! We told her she would learn how to read in school and she they hadn't taught her!" I did? Of course I don't remember this, but watching my Dad's face light up with the memory of the beginning of my precociousness, was nice. He went on...they couldn't believe I was SO upset and Mom told Dad, "she wants to learn to read sooo badly Dale..." and Daddy said I looked at him and said, "Yes Daddy, I wanna learn to read so I can write!" Dad said he must of looked confused because my five year old self explained it...."I gotta go to school to learn to read and write...and reading comes first....so I gotta get through that..." He laughed and laughed at the memory and I stood there amazed. Not only that I had stated my desire to write at age 5...but that he remembered, supported it...and that desire never went away...

I looked over at brother Chris and he grinned his sunshine grin, and gave me a high five and laughed and laughed...Dad looked at us...siblings have a different language...Mom broke in and asked us to keep in down, she was doing her general ledger...glanced over her shoulder when no one was looking and winked at me.

Yeah....sunshine in my soul. There comes a time when you realize all your hard work raising parents and fighting siblings pays off. They turn out to be better people than you would ever hope to be.

Happy Birthday Jules

I was a bit angsty about moving back to my hometown after living in Austin and traveling the east coast. I was a bit apprehensive about starting/joining a writer's group. I was absolutely sure that no one stuck in this town was as sophisticated and worldly as I....but I would press on...

I met Jules. Someone entirely more worldly and sophistated than I...and if you can imagine? ALMOST a bigger vocabulary....jury is still out on that one!

I met the epitome of "dynamite in a small package"...she's hugely "cute"...and at times "unworldly beautiful"...she's a sprite and a siren and pulls them both off with equanimity.

Always quick with witticism or a quip...followed by proufound wisdom and spritituality.

She's self effacing and strong.

She slams you at the same time she supports you...and you love her for it.

She admits to insecurities only after she's gotten over it...but she's also strong enough to ask for what she needs up front from a friendship, or a marriage...and it ain't much:

be honest
be open
be there
don't bullshit me
listen to me
don't take my love/affection for granted...because I don't give it freely
love me

Trust me...that's ALL she asks, and how many people can we say that about?

She's in your face..she's got your back, she's extremely beyond intelligent...she's confident and scared to death....

She's honestly a woman I aspire to be.

I wish you guts knew her...and I'd link her blog if I had her permission.

She's jules, she's amazing.
An Amazing wife with a wonderful husband...
two BEAUTIFUL girls....
An awesome writer...
and an the bestest girlfriend, even though she doesn't always tell you what you want to hear! She gives it to you straight...

Today is her birthday, and I've stressed awhile how to pay tribute to her majesty (and adjective, she is majestic...not a personal pronoun!)

I hope just letting you all know my admiration for her; her combination of strength and compassion; beauty and brawn...might do it.

I'm so blessed for knowing her...good job God.

Happy Birthday Jules....I love you.

Confesions of An Undiagnosed Sybilist...

Yes, I do believe "Sybilist" should be a word...remember "Sybil"? The movie about multiple personality disorder? I think it's applicable to me at this point...I just haven't named my personalities and allowed them to completely take over...but WorkRobin (okay, maybe I have named them!) has been shoved face first back into "work mode"...hauling poopie, paying bills, and hiring new people! So CreativeRobin has left the conciousness but has been beating the hell out of the door yelling expletives and threatening WorkRobin. SocialRobin (i.e., you guys) has had to actally interact with people....all. the. time. It seems we haven't had a night without "company"...if not our new "neighbors", it's the rest of the damn town. Spring fever has set in...and we have a "kegirator" and a grill...we're pulling out all the stops in this popularity contest! And winning.

I don't mind it, I love company and our new neighbors who moved into our "little" house and have come to work for us. They're a great couple! But they got a kegirator too now...twice the traffic! More on them another time...this is less about them, more about me...okay?

I missed you guys tremendously and will be hitting your blogs in a second...just wanted you to know, I'm okay, crazy busy time of year, and a bunch of other excuses. We had a "house-warming" party for our newbies last night and one of my favorite people and writing buddies really came down on me for not blogging at least, and told me my buddie's missed me, I didn't believe her but she said that YellowDogGranny would probably take me to the mat for this! (I hate it when YellowDogGranny takes me to the mat...she's always dead on, vicious, honest and usually right....)

I told her that I felt under pressure to be "funny" and I'd no original ideas lately. She smacked me (thanks Jules!) I didn't think you guys wanted to hear me whine so I shut up! It's a symbol of "sybilism"! I am so great! I've created this whole new diagonosis for a new condition and even symptoms. Hmmm, gonna have to work on this...look for a future post and I will give you a DSM IV diagnosis, symptomology, and treatment for this...see, all I have to do is sit in front of the keyboard to come up with bizarre shit!

I also told Jules a recent happening in my life and she said..."See! Blog material!" New word, "Blogmat"...I'm on a roll...can you see it? My own dictionary? "Sybil Takes on the English Language"....another thought...

So here's the recent thang! We had a "safety meeting" (where I got to hang out with my insurance guy Lar...I LOVE that guy!) in Lubbock a couple of weeks ago and Gary, who drives one of our support trucks told me that his son Isiah, who's about 5 years old, came running out the other day yelling, "Dad! Robin's on TV!" and Gary thought, "oh god, she's on the news, who'd she kill?". He went running in and Isiah was all excited, pointing at the TV saying, "There she is!" And Gary said, "Isiah, that's not Robin.....that's Ellen Degeneres."

I said, "aaahhh, how cute!" But inside I was thinking....why aren't we allowed to beat children? I love Ellen, but I was hoping for the Meg Ryan reference I normally get (back when I was 25! LOL). But nooooo.

The very next day we had a "Friends of the Library Endowment Campaign Appreciation" thingy...and I'm the membership chairman of this committee, and I agreed (uh, volunteer'ed?) to the the auctioneer for some "baskets". (NOTE: Friends, don't let friends drink and volunteer, more on that later as well! wow, I do have stuff to say!) So that Sunday I got ready to go do my thing...I wanted to look "auctioneery" but still be me. I knew a lot would be going to this thing straight from church...but since I left the "corporate" world...I'll be damned if I dig through my drawers for panty hose without runs right?

I looked in the mirror before I dashed out the door. My world came crumbling down around me...I was worried about what I would say when they handed me the mic before I began the auction and suddenly...I knew...

This is what I said, to the most influenteial people in the town I grew up in, the average age of the people there was 62 (a guesstimate):

(I prefaced with the Isiah saying I was Ellen thing, stepped out from behind the podium and looked down upon myself....)

"Mans' suit jacket?" check
"Groovy shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes?" check
Wait, it gets better...
"40 years old, unmarried, no children BUT has a 'spouse equivalent'?" check
"Drives a semi for a living?" check
"Grabs a microphone in front of 60 people and says whatever is on her mind?" check

Never mind my SE's name ends in a "y"; not an "ie.."....I'm still sure half of them thought I "came" out at a library funtion. Which would be fine and dandy and funny as hell in the Baptist Buckle of the Bible Belt...if it were true. But my resemblance to Ellen stops there...I dig dudes! What can I say? But I must admit, Portia de Rossi is kinda hot!

But I was funny as hell and sold the cheeseburger basket for $750. So there.

Thanks to John, the most awesome cutie on the planet who's even more of a "sybilist" than I (a total dichotomy of mass insecurities and amazing presence!)..great having you back in my life...you're the prince of 2 Princes! Jules...I love how you lay me flat and love me anyway, thanks for allowing me to fringe and not laying all that other shit on me...do you know how awesome I think you are? And Jimbo? My war buddy, my hero, my what? No words to describe you...you know what you mean to me and it's great having you to reach out to again. Thanks to all you weiner's for yelling at me to post, write and get back in touch with CreativeRobin. Had to say that...

Now, having admitted to being MPD (prodromal!) and "coming out" in a town of 5,000 where my poor parents still live and love me...while pointing out I've lived with and loved my SE (who is VERY male) for 7 years and have no intention of switching teams...basically, causing shit...I'm now going to take some time to do one of my favorite things which I have been neglecting due to my obligations and 'sybilism'...I'm gonna go see what y'all are up to!

My Generation

It's Sunday and I was just kickin' it, hangin'out, chillin' or any of those other fancy adjectives used to describe lethargy/laziness! Had a bunch of stuff to do but my "giveadamn" busted and all the repair shops were closed, so what's a girl to do?

Well, a girl raised in the prisitine vulugarity of the 80's watches a re run of "Smokey and the Bandit" of course. I roared, guffawed, snorted and came to the conclusion that's it's no wonder my generation is beyond help!

Number one: the clothes were horrible, the hair? Needed it's own zip code. Even Fred's collar was a bit over the top. The acting was atrocious from the extra's (who pretended to drive and talk on the CB..."is that you Bandi-it? I've got your bach doah and tha pedal to the medal hon' chile so hammah down, why don't you come see me suhmtime? Cleah heah!"...for cryin' out loud!) Gives us Texas women truck drivers an unfortunate reputation! The orange jeans and boots? Ugh! But Burt Reynolds still made my 80's heart go pitty pat and Sally Field was beyond cute!

Number two: As logic follows that 2 follows 1...I watched "Smoky Part II"...it starts off with Burt completely inebriated, about to wreck a business deal because he is soused. All because Sally left him. So of course my generation learned to turn to Jack, Jim, or Bud in times of need! And careening down the highway to screw with authority figures at 110 miles per hour with an open bottle of vodka, in a convertible, with no seat belt? Well, what's wrong with that? Today they would call that chemical addiction, passive agressive aversion to authority and a death wish. Down here? We called it "saturday night".

Seriously! They don't make movies like that anymore, thank God, it was pretty bad all in all but entertaining anyway! The fight scenes? Har! The plot? Unbelievable. The protagonist? Sexy as hell! The antogonist? Sheriff Buford T. Justice, from Texas? Annyoing...they definately got that one right! But way too much air time for his dialogue! No seat belts, fly in the face of authority, smoke, drink, drive, take off the hat (without a discussion about condoms)...ahhhh, the good 'ole days!

There was a scene where Buford came across a Black sheriff in Arkansas and said, "I want to speak to Sheriff Yadayada" and the black guy said, "I'M sheriff YadaYada..." Buford didn't know what to say! He said, "Well, er, you sounded much tallah on the radio!" and muttered to his son, "what's the world comin' to?!" You think you'd see THAT in a movie today? I'd love to introduce Buford to my president!

Buford also hit his idiot son and said, "There's no way you came from my loins junior, I'm going to go home and punch your Momma in the mouth." Almost the same line in both movies! It was hard to tell because there was so much cursing and they dubbed it and I couldn't make out half of what they were saying! It was like a Bruce Lee movie dubbed in Polish! I could see their mouth moving but I'm pretty sure "scum bucket" isn't what they were saying! So add "potty" mouth to drinking, smoking, bucking authority and risking death to the values we were raised on, much to our 50's parents chagrin! When Richie Howard hitchikes with Bo Bandit...all bets are off.

I had to laugh and then thought of Todd Snider. He's a musician that I love and he wrote a song called "My Generation", I looked to link the video or lyrics but was worried about copyright! His song pegs our generation to a "T". It's funny...and in so many ways...sad as hell!

Oh to hell with it! You'll love it! He's awesome!

Did you know that there are people who put us down for
no other reason than the simple fact that we get around?
My generation, part two, verse three, chapter four,
Jackson Five, Nikki Sixx.

Well my old man says the Woodstock generation
Found a way to make this nation
Open up it's eyes and take a look around
And he says my generation
Ain't good for nothin'
I can think of something so I thought I'd jot it down

So here's to hair gel,
Hangin' out at the health spa
Using condom sense
And watchin' L.A. Law
Here's to drum machines, stonewashed jeans,
Credit cards and fax machines
Big bow headed chicks and frat guys
Wearin' forty dollar tie-dye t-shirts
And big bold paisley ties
Here's to livin' off Dad as long as you can
And blendin' in with the crowd
Oh my generation
My generation
My generation should be proud (so proud)

We were raised up in the hallowed halls
Half a million shopping malls
And there ain't any price that we're too proud to pay
We'll buy anything from Diet Sprite
To one thousand points of light
Well I admit we're not that bright but I'm proud anyway

So here's to hair gel,
Hangin' out at the health spa
Using condom sense
And watchin' Arsenio Hall
Here's to drum machines, stonewashed jeans,
Credit cards and fax machines
Big bow headed chicks and frat guys
Wearin' forty dollar tie-dye t-shirts
And big bold paisley ties
Here's to livin' off Dad as long as you can
And blendin' in with the crowd
Oh my generation
My generation
My generation
God I hope I die before I get old
My generation
My generation
My generation
Strike a pose, there's nothin' to it
My generation
My generation
My generation should be proud.

See? It's a great song though, check him out. It's on the album "Songs for the Daily Planet".

So what about you? Is there a movie that kind of describes YOUR generation?

And wouldn't it be fun to remake Smokey and the Bandit, modernize it? Bandit goes to rehab, Carrie (Sally) goes to therapy for her commitment issues, Snowman struggles with his amphetamine addiction that he developed when the "hours of service" for a truck driver said 20 straight hours were okay...he also has urethra problems for never stopping to pee. Buford T. Justice takes sensitivity training and anger management classes, Junior, finally free of Dad, wins the International Chess Competition....hmmm, this could be fun!

Facebook, Psychology and Inherent Insanity

Wow, here I am again, finally, maybe? It's been nuts, but you already know that if you know me at all! But see here? I'm workin' ya!
I learned in psychology that "intermittent" reinforcement increases behavior more than constant reinforcement...if you give the Pavlovian dog a treat every durn time the bell rings then he'll eventually quit salivating...but if you only do it every third or fourth time? He just never knows when the good stuff is gonna happen so he keeps slobbering....that's my excuse for not being a reliable blogger. (Hey, it sounded good!). I am intelligently unreliable?

I just keep waiting for myself to do something completely stupid and hysterically funny so that I have something to say and the remarkabl things is, I haven't f+*+*d up in days! (Well, yeah, but it's not funny blog material!).

But I do realize that if FACEBOOK had been around when I was a Private Investigator and/or skip tracer? I would soooo be unemployed! NOTE TO PEOPLE TRYING TO AVOID DEBT COLLECTION OR SUSPICIOUS SPOUSES! DON'T GET ON FACEBOOK!

I just got on when a gf invited me, and I thought it'd kind of be cool to keep tabs on the wicked stepson (love that kid!) so I joined up....and I used the same profile picture that's on this blog...simply because it was handy and I haven't had my picture made in years (don't ask how many!)...and I honestly didn't know anyone I knew would actually see it! Well, darn near my entire senior class and then some found me, and all had compliments on how I "haven't aged a bit!". LOL! I am so tempted to keep that picture up to keep the illusion, but my cousins' wife is coming out tomorrow and we're going to play with the cameras and get me a new, updated, prof pic! From further away!

Then, an old, dear wonderful friend found me...THAT was crazy! I looked for him for years in the city we both used to live in and he was just gone! I had resigned myself to memories! I got on Facebook and WHAM! It's so exciting, we have a long phone convo planned for the future!

AND, then, one of the most pivotal people in my life, an old "colleague" happened to be on facebook and I found him, I thought, and sent a message, and it WAS him and we've been chatting and have another long phone convo planned...I just might need a social secretary by the end of this!

It's great, but I realize that if I had any aspirations to go back into the PI business? Someone should hit me over the head with an enormous reality check. How people can hide anymore is beyond me. Oh, I'm sure they still do, but they are beyond my capabilities to find! Cyber-sleuth I am not!

As a PI, a suspicious husband found a number on his cell bill...I called the number pretending to be a UPE delivery person (intentional...can't say UPS!) and that the label had gotten wet and all I could read was the number, they'd give me the address and I'd go from there...busted. As a skip tracer for a private company, we'd call references from the credit ap and lie our ass off and convince the references that they had: a)applied for credit and we needed to verify information (they won't give them up but they'll help them steal more) or 2) they'd won something and we needed to mail them the certificate. We'd also go into utility companies with the social and lie, but I never told you that....

It was hard work! Being a professional liar! Now? All ya gotta do is get on facebook and you can, apparently, find anybody! I'd say that the computer age had pushed me out of the PI business but I honestly got out a long time ago.

I P.I.'ed in the Texas Panhandle. People might think that following someone is easy, but it's not, even in the flatlands. I moved to Austin and my old boss had me set up with a PI there and I knew instantly I could not tail people in the hill country with all the trees! I quit!

Ditto with the computer age. Criminals and deadbeats can still hide, and often phone work will be the only way to find them....but this job has soooo outsourced me!

I'm a shit hauler remember? My days of playing "hide and go seek" are behind me! It was fun to play Sam Spade and I have funny stories....but I'll leave the skip tracing up to the experts in computers now! I do good just to post on this thing!

NOTE: We had Harry Haines, who has published "Orphan" with Mayhaven Publishing come down here and give us a presentation on "taking your writing to the next level". It was awesome, I learned a lot....and the dear, sweet man offered to read my stuff and help me out at the next PPW meeting! I was dying to ask for his help and guidance but published authors get inundated and pummeled with those kinds of things...I thought it was very gracious of him to offer and you can bet I'll take him up on it! On that note? Better go do some "real" writing!