Cowz in da Hood

I passed a curious sight on my way home last night. I have been scratching my head and picking my brain over the possibilities since then.

Off to my right, in a field, stood a group of cows. [I reckon they would be called a herd?] All of the cows - save one - were standing in a semi-circle, facing the road. The 'last' cow was behind them, laying down.

Was this cow in labor? Was she in pain? Was she dying? Was she merely the lazy gal of the group? Or was this a sign of something darker? Perhaps gang violence has spread to our normally genial bovine friends?

And no, none of the cows were carrying signs telling me to 'Eat Mor Chikin'. Believe me, I checked.

If I was the Traffic Report Lady

...You may have heard the following today:

'...Traffic into the Park is slow again this morning, as hot weather seems to make people stupid...'

'...Yet another ladder has been sacrificed to the god of I-40. Unfortunately, the god found the sacrifice wanting, and claimed a Yugo instead...'

'...It appears that another woodland creature came to an unfortunate end after trying to kiss a semi. Sadly, said creature is unidentifiable. All that remains is a leg, a large quantity of spilled blood - and a pile of something resembling stew beef...'

Mmm. Commuting. Tasty.

Chachi

I always convince myself that, If I could just get some quiet time, I could really write. Without those pesky run on sentences. Or random thoughts [What's with all these ants?!], I would write beautiful, flowery prose that would awe and inspire people throughout the world.

Well, now I have my wish. I have my quiet time. And I am going crazy.

Chachi is at a conference this week. For creative people. IN CHICAGO.

Meanwhile, back at the chicken farm ---or around the corner, as it were---It's too dark. It's too quiet. It's too...stressful.

I am bound to my evening routine: home - dinner [watching Stargate SG-1 reruns, natch], maybe a snack. Then we move on to Reading Time with Nooze, where it becomes apparent that Momma Renn should not read out loud. It seems that I am wont to paraphrase, embellish - and prone to the random stutter. This tendency is exacerbated if a Magic Schoolbus book is involved. Namely the Cursed Dinosaur book. [Hey! They lived many years ago. There may well have been a Bobosaurus Rex!]

Then we move on to pure Noozie time - which is Momma speak for snuggling, cuddling and just loving on our beloved five year old - known both as Nooze and Booger J. Monkey around these parts. Then, all to quickly, it's time for Nooze to go to bed.

When Nooze falls asleep, Chachi and I do what all old married couples do. We goof off. We have been married long enough to know that candlelit dinners are fine - if you have just survived another hurricane. Long walks on the beach just give us leg cramps. Looking deeply into each others eyes simply means someone has lost a contact lens - or is in need of more allergy drops.

Standard goof off fare consists of movies and the occasional board game. When it comes to movies, we have 2 basic rules - First and foremost: The person who fell asleep during the last movie may choose the next one. This ensures that both of us have a fair shake. It also ensures that, if a movie isn't engaging within the first 15 minutes, it gets turned off. Who wants to fall asleep to their own lame choice? The second rule is simple - if one of us will be home more (vacation, personal day or holiday), that person gets to stack the queue.

When it comes to board games, well, we get a little creative. Some of our favorites are Battle of the Sexes - where I am so the Queen of Liquor and Fishin', Mexican Train Dominos, Phase 10, and Fact or Crap. We are so well tuned with our geek nature that we have Game Night with friends once a month.

We watch hockey, football, basketball. I watch ESPN and read the magazine. I know the difference between KeyShaun and LeBraun - even if I can't spell either name. I watch PTI - and like it. None of this would have been possible without Chachi.

Chachi cooks with bizarre, random ingredients and makes awesome dinners. I clean up after him.

Chachi buys most of my clothes...simply because I hate to shop. He is creative, musical, gifted. He is teaching Nooze how to read - and hear - music.

He hates snakes just as much as I do. [Yet we live past the other side of nowhere - in a field next to the Great Woods...Huh.]

For the next few nights, I will be adrift without my beloved schedule. We will gnosh on leftovers and drink tepid water. Stargate SG-1 will be meaningless. Lights will stay on. The dogs will take over, the tv will stay on all night; I will sleep on both sides of the bed.

I am thrilled that he has this opportunity. I hope that he's having a great time. Back East, at La Casa de Chachi 'n' Renn, things are simply out of sorts. I just miss him like crazy.

He left less than 24 hours ago.

Confessions

1. I sometimes listen to country music just to see how long it takes to make me crazy.

2. I have a long standing, inexplicable crush on...John Tesh.

3. I have never understood why the Dave Matthews Band is so popular.

4. When characters do something stupid on television, I must leave the room or avert my eyes. I am mortified on their behalf.

5. I think that [American Idol winner] Taylor Hicks should be cast in a movie as George Clooney's retarded brother.

6. I still know all of the words to "No Sleep ['til Brooklyn]" by the Beastie Boys. I especially love scream/screeching '...in the back/skeezin with a ho-wuh!'

7. I studied German (briefly) in college because I wanted to translate my Falco album. I didn't succeed.

8. I completely adore the word 'befouled'. As in: "We can NEVER go back to that restaurant. I just completely befouled their bathroom!

9. I was rarely allowed to watch cartoons as a child. As a result, I am now addicted to Adult Swim on the Cartoon Network. My current favorite is The Oblongs. This may soon be edged out by Korgoth of Barbaria.

10. I am convinced that TLC is the television version of The National Enquirer. My favorite show title to date is 'The Boy Whose Skin Fell Off'. My second fave? 'The Man Whose Arms Exploded'. Hands down. Or completely off.

On the Radio...

On my way home from work yesterday, I heard the following news bit:

DJ: "Dateline: Florida. A man, dressed only in a women's bathing suit and carrying a flare gun..." (fades out)

Traffic Announcer: "THE END!"

Some days, I really cherish the commute time.

Help!

Over the past six months, I have written an average of six posts per month. While this is nothing to sneeze at (having NOT WRITTEN for quite some time), I am frustrated.

My goal - for May - was to post at least ten times. Thanks to inventory (and yes, writer's block), I managed to write a total of seven - and post a total of eight times. I am told that my Mother's Day pictorial doesn't really count. (Per Chachi).

Please help. Sometimes, a mere suggestion or topic is enough to stir the memory jar (aka my brain) enough to create a post. So, dear three (or four, if you're a lurker) - do YOU have any suggestions or topics?

***I realize that this post is disjointed and irregular. I am lacking in the caffeine column this morning, too.