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It hadn’t ocurred to this day on how much I miss reading the daily posts as I worked at my own blogs. I’ve said a thing or two before as well as whole postings of missing out also; this my web friends is sitting deeper into my being. Now I really don’t want to get into my whole sour attitude of truck driving, personally tired of the subject and complaining has not solved my issues. Big but, but here it is I miss being an active part of Word Press as much as I miss my family out here on the road.

Once in a great while I get to view a post or too and when I do it makes my brain do something it doesn’t get too often….think. Wow its like a true blessing unknown to most, reading? Well it is for this lamb. Some of you challenge me with ideas, my position on moral values, political, then there’s simple notions on living, designing and fashion, not only do I like this feel its needed too.

Well at any rate I struggle daily with my walk towards the Lord, seems my time with Word Press helped since my block head is to hard headed to grasp the Bible. I know this walk isn’t easy for anyone but it seems that many do so much better and it looks really good on them too. They seem to be tailored made like a fitted suit or dress on a model. As a small person clothes rarely look of proper fit on me and with time my fight to keep weight on reversed itself to now I am losing the battle of the bulge and truck driving does not help! So my walk resembles an ill fitted suit. I am afraid of what a sight I must be for The Lord.

Embarrassed by my walk I say too much and not enough of the right words. Sometimes I feel as though my break through would come at the time of discovering a purpose to my life. I felt blogging was part of that purpose then it was taken away. So review was needed and I wasn’t balanced, more time on blogging than on The Lord. I didn’t say much on Him not because  I knew nothing to say. So many unanswered questiond and expectations on what I thought I was to feel and experience, these still remain my trouble. So I press on.

In the meantime had a great conversation with my oldest son. We don’t get to speak with each other very often and this was one of those special moments I will hang on to for a long, long time. It was Thanksgiving Day, I had awaken in tears hating my life completely. Love my partner love my two dogs on the road with me but I cannot handle missing my family and friends. I now have no home to call home a fresh wound to get over do I moped the day of thanks. I beat myself up wishing I could give a honest thank you for my Lord. It wasn’t there to give. I said my thanks for the day that comes it will be real, this was when I was able reach my son Steffan.

My son is an interesting man who fulfilled my desire for strong independant thinkers. He is quirky, fun, caring individual as he should be. This wasn’t the conversation his strenghts it was his fortune in being able to prosper in todays world if commerce. He found out what he’s good at, loves doing it and as the saying goes money has followed. It’s not a ton but he can keep his roof over his head. This is the thing I heard through the cell, it wasn’t his wealth ( none there) it was his confidence his soul purpose as he gets to use his hands to create products people want. This seemingly simple line of work connects him with others around the globe. He’s happy, his life is not perfect, he’s going through a divorce he did not want been in two bad motorcycle accidents yet these set backs haven’t held him back. He’s doing what he loves.

Our conversation took to higher ground proving to me again how I got lucky in raising my boys, he spoke about the need for Americans to buy from the small shops over these ruthless corporate places. Most smaller establishments provide a good product over cheaply made goods giant box dealers have. This my partner and I have been trying to do our best on. Having a truck (another thorn in my side) only allows us to do business where we can park. My plans of being better person fails.

However on the few occasions  we have been able to dine in mom and pop establishments, talk about getting your dollars worth. Food was delicious and comforting and serve was friendly. Now in most places I patronize service is very good it feels more personable in the smaller diners is all.
I also unknowingly hadn’t known that ourside the state of California that the tipped workers made so little. I am appalled by this news!

Being on the road I see tons of stuff but getting involved doesn’t come with trucking; isolated into a small cab is all the experience has. One thing I do see is multitudes of chain restaurants. There’s a Cracker Barrel and Waffle House on every street corner through out these United States all except for California. I scratched head wondering why not California? Well I found out why no Cracker Barrels so I am assuming Waffle Houses have the same reasoning and it this! Are you ready? They will not pay California’s wage requirement! Can you believe that? I am disgusted my their values that my very hard earned dollars will never ever be handed over to them.

Think of the greedy Wal Marts and other insitutions we patronize on how they are doing everything they can to cut out the American citizens from earning a decent income. Just the other day had heard through the CB radio that they were doing the same in trucking. Companies are hiring foreign laborers giving them trucks and fuel backed by the US government where they receive a cash bknus for doing this just so these truckers can run cheaper than citizens if this country.

So unknowingly I have helped these cut throats to succeed. All of us could make money hand over fists if we were not paying wages…This us the bottom line, how do we stop this and save the United States of America at the same time?

I may not know how to create a healthy relationship with anyone including the one I want – with my Lord, I can’t handle my line of work  or how to get out of it and have not idea what my purpose is but this I can do and its this….keep as much of money away from greedy bastards. No more dining in places that refused to go into California. Staying away from Wal Marts is tough they allows trucks in their lots but when ever possbile my dollars will go eslewhere.
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Please for the love of God and America this Christmas season shop small.

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Finds in a Texas Truck Stop

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Would you ever imagine a truck stop could hold a glorious bounty in mushrooms? Maybe you can, I on yhe other hand never thought anything beautiful could be discovered in a place with a sorted reputation. In the months having gone by treasures were there for those who seek them.

I do admit I love smaller less noticable items over fancy frills. For me it’s therapeutic, walking with nature. My lungs take in woodsy scents releasing tension for the time being. It could last longer if I allowed it but once my feet leave the path I greetp troubles back into my life.

Have you strolled along a forest heavoly scented by sprouting mushrooms? If you haven’t you really should treat yourself by doing so. For those who have I bet your taste buds were creating deliciously tempting  meals like mine were!

One thing about me is this, I love to cook! Living on a truck ( well you know)  nothing keeps my belly from forming a  joint venture with these tasters masters of mine into conjuring  up a creamy portabello mushroom sauce over handcrafted pasta. That was the plan then today it’s a hearty plate of stroganoff. Yumm ah that sounds so delish as I look down at my pathtic Burger King meal. Talk about disappointment oh well life goes on. Anyways  it wasn’t being  kitchenless that stuck the meal on hold because as they say  where there’s a will believe me I would have found a way.  See it was a whole different kind of issues, see these interesting fungi have  abilities beyond their sweet and all so innocent appearance; especially if you’re  ignorant like me making them dangerous! Out there amongst fall leaves wafting onto the forest floor making a suitable enviroment I hangered to make a good dinner, even now I am salivating knowing full well these humble looking shrooms could send me on a real trip. Would it be a fun or a final destination? Humm don’t know . 

Since I’ve become a professional driver my interests have evolved towards such oddities as the lowly fungi  before  a few would poke a friendly head out in  my yard to say hello. I’d bow a nod in passing, generating little interest. And then one day not so long ago stumbling on a hidden trail of a Texas truck stop ran into these toad stools; now I’m hooked on fungi!

Here are some of the ones I met that day.
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I have to wonder what a real photographer could do with these?

I don’t have an answer

20131030_110307I don’t want to be doom and gloom yet I can’t help it. Signs are revealing times are tough everywhere. I’ts in the air pouring through our media files in the TV, smart phones, and into the social postings. There are people out there proclaiming they know the answers. They know what’s best for us and I have to ask “do they?”

I get calls wanting an answer from me. There’s not a thing I can say. My abilities to speak hasn’t changed much and it’s not helping that my world is turned inside out. Mentioning that only increases then need for answers coming from me. How can I comply to their wishes when I just plain don’t know?

Maybe I should start from the beginning. Would that makes things clearer possibly sort itself out? Well I am going to chance it so bear along if you may attempt to keep up.

Okay a few months ago my unemployment was giving out. I applied everywhere. When I say everywhere it was literally and that’s what got me into this trouble. See when you are struggling to apply to places you qualify for, places begin to run out,  fill out your little form gets harder to exchange for a pay check. My field as an assistant to interior designers is gone. Being an assistant narrows the odds, add interior puts the nail in your coffin. It gets worst when one isn’t bilingual like me.

I needed a job, I needed a check and my form needed lines filled in. Those lines little black stripes on a sheet of paper so hard to write in. Desperately I began applying to anything and everything. I even applied to become a phone sex operator. Thinking of that application I sigh how I followed up with phone calls. Why didn’t I qualify? Disgusting job really but it would have kept me home unlike what had actually paid off. That line that had to be filled in torments my days and nights.

Applications went out for stocking shelves, Wal Mart, Kmart, Saks’ Fifth Avenue, pizza driver, convenience store clerk and the one that hired me…a trucking company promising me all, money adventure and security. Red lights should have gone off, so many promises to my needs. This has been anything but any of the above. Money so bad I am losing everything including sanity.

But okay I am new to this profession and like other such careers one needs to pay their dues and when that happens your ships comes in. That’s all fine and dandy. I am not afraid of hard work. Well not of work but I am terrified of driving a rig. So many things can go wrong. Drivers tell stories that end with “and they didn’t even know it” Good grief they didn’t know it? This scares me.

I can’t quit. It took me a full year to land this job. If I do quit what happens to me? There’s no unemployment for me with this company. The last company paid so little EDD would charge me for cutting my checks. Yeah that little, less than two hundred dollars a week with them. My present company was paying, paying wonderfully that was until they decided they needed to hold one check back, making us get paid on the loads before. We were getting it all, foolishly I thought I could pay those months worth of debts. That lasted a whole month and a half- three pay checks in this truckers life.

Government shutdown hit hard. We haul meat and produce so no work for eight days. We rolled in after a week and half to receive a four hundred-dollar paycheck. I went six days without a shower, I drove hours without finding a rest stop or bathroom. I ate two dollar hot dogs and cans of soup out of funds. Truck sat in turn pikes waiting fuel money to get to the next load. Four hundred dollars didn’t pay my rent it didn’t pay for anything but auto insurance that by the way I don’t have anymore…no car.

Then we got a break a load with tons of miles. Victorville Ca to Orlando Florida and it even had reasonable time frames. My partner and I were excited. These miles would take care of the rent and moving out from the house. Why pay rent when you aren’t home? Secretly I want a home, I want to be home but that’s not the breaks given to me so I must be content with what I do have, a job.

We were to be in the yard by six that night having gotten in at one am. Not a real problem, we slept then went to the bank and ate a decent meal. The meal was better than it should be since we didn’t make rent. But we went over to the truck stop showered and ate anyways. I was hungry no home or cooking equipment we basically had no choice. We made it back by five pm, got a call load won’t be there until eight. Tired and worn out we got settled into the truck, my partner, my dogs having exercised them in the truck yard I was exhausted. I had driven to the full extent of the law getting into Victorville, needed rest.That was not to be. Next call requests that we drive up to Santa Maria to get the load.

Being a driver this is part of the job, right? Sure it is but t his outing cost us big time. Neither one of us got the sleep that was needed and now we must drive five hours pick up a truck, bring a driver back and the car we took to get that truck. Sleep wasn’t the only price we lost ten hours needed to make the appointment on time in Florida. I got out of the car and  hopped into the truck and drove and drove.

Every minute that went by for forty-eight hours moved by the wheels of the truck. Out of California into Arizona trading off near New Mexico, he drove on into Texas. I took the seat on we rode into Louisiana, Mississippi over bridges into Alabama finally Florida where the truck broke down in a department of transportation truck scale. This is bad two hundred miles from final, exhausted, sick, thirsty, need a bathroom, need a shower and I am starved. Did I mention late?

I sacrificed my health to get a load of lettuce to Orlando on time and we can’t get there. My partner took over forcing the truck after a service didn’t get it quite right. Twelve hours to get two hundred miles then we sit on the side of a road waiting to unload. We sit and wait. Rush, sit and wait  is what truck drivers do so we did. Waited nine hours reefer’s running out of fuel, I take straws and try to drop fuel from tractors tanks into the reefer. It works, temps stay at thirty-four degrees and it lasts until we pull in then it’s off. Less than five minutes and they want to refuse the load.

Well prayers do at times work they took the load. We pull out from the yard humming truck is running. We make the stop sign, no problems no stalling. We get to the main road didn’t make the signal so we wait. Engines humming just fine then the light turns green. Engine that sounded perfect dies.

An hour goes by we made three blocks. We are still hungry haven’t eaten, haven’t used a restroom since seven am, it’s six pm now, ran out of water, no drinks and no place to get anything. Three more hours we have made another mile and we are to get this truck to the repair shop. A motel is two miles away, repair shop four miles according to the GPS. Neither one of us have been to Orlando so we must trust the GPS knows the city.

In case you don’t know GPS are incredible liars. We were blocks from the repair shop needed, now we are miles from it. Story grows longer and longer and more unbelievable. We have been in Orlando two weeks. Part of it was spent at the Motel 6 another section right on International Drive sitting in a non-working truck which means no electrical to heat our last two cans of soup,  using computers, charging cells or air conditioning, and having to use nearby gas stations to go potty. Then we walked close to a mile and half to find that the Motel Six requires crates for dogs. Being gone two days a lot changed.

Prayers work again they let us stay one night then we were back dragging our bags to the truck, towed to the dealer where we sat all day. We were there so long they forgot about me, my partner and my two dogs. We asked questions and they managed to have forgotten us long enough that they could not drive us to a motel. We walked with our bags down busy highways to a truck stop, mind you we both had no more funds of the four hundred we did have. My partner used his on motels, mine one hundred went to the insurance and rest went to food that is by the way very expensive in resort towns.

Truck stops had out advance from the owner. We needed a hotel and food. Sweating bullets we pressed on tummy’s growling we carried our bags and rolled the wheels over dirt gravel dodging vehicles but we made the truck stop by nine pm. We got cash and called a taxi. One motel promised we would not have to have a crate if we kept our promise to never leave the two dogs alone in the room. It was a deal easily made.

Now La Quinta Inn is our home it seems. been here a full week. It began as a two day stay, then three them five now it could be ending tomorrow. Do I believe that? Hard to say. Dealer said Friday at three pm by Monday. unless they are open which is doubtful don’t see Monday am.

In the meantime I have people who want answers from me. Am I keeping the home, when am I going to be home, where’s my money? Lasts one is for all three. A truck driver not driving doesn’t make a pay check. I’ve been stranded for two weeks, worked a little that was eaten  up by being stranded and off eight days prior. Where’s the security promised in truck driving?

I can’t answer the questions, where, what and when. If I try it comes out a lie, it doesn’t happen. Like my partner he was to be in Las Vegas on the twenty-third for the birth of his grandson. Where was he? Here in Florida. It wasn’t intended to be that way. I was to be home with money to close the house down while he met his grandchild.

Money didn’t show up, I worked to make it but it wasn’t there, shortened by the eight day shut down. These miles to and from Florida would take care of my landlord, my stuff in storage so forth. Not one thing happened. Was it my fault? Must be I took the job didn’t I?

Did I have a choice? Possibly but it didn’t feel that way and ever since my life has been in short a living hell. A living hell I hate being so dreadful when so many people have it way worst than I. I must be grateful I have a roof sort of, eating, my partner with me and my two dogs. I don’t get to see my family, my son is pissed to say the least because my job caused chaos so maybe it’s not all bad in not seeing my family.

I’m stressed to the point that it’s hard to not cry twenty-four seven so I have been concentrating on my movie script. Trying to make it saleable. Can I do it? I am not sure anymore. How can I believe when everything I touch turns to poop? If I live in a house I love, I’m alone and broke. If I have someone at my side I lose my home. Why can’t I have a small portion of my dreams to come true?  They stay way out of reach, once in a while I get a teaser. Like my three good size pay checks it ends all too soon.

But people want answers from me. What do I tell them when my mouth opens and it doesn’t come true? Isn’t it best to say nothing at all than to sell false hopes It hurts me deeply to let people down. This time of my life it’s been very painful, I’ve let a lot of people down.

But I must be grateful. I’ve been blessed with a partner and he’s doing pretty good. He’s handling this stress if I don’t notice how he’s slept the last three days and sat around in his underwear. Well that could be my fault I poured into my script with fever thinking that all of this mess could turn around on me. I could leave this job of truck driver and be a real live screenwriter(that I want)  with a movie starring Steve Buscemi and Charlize Theron. A dream like that takes a miracle. While miracles do exist do they for me?

They do come in small ways like having this hotel room, my partner, not being fined at that DOT scale, my grand baby that I missed terribly is healthy. I did get to see my friend in Thousand Oaks for five minutes after an absence of six years from each other. That my friends is a true blessing, one that need to happen more often.

Way more often. A short time ago when I got those three healthy checks made plans to take another friend out for lunch, that was too much for my life because that is exactly the time my paycheck shrank by sixty percent. It was in the air my fate, to not be able to be with friends.

Over and over it goes and I am the one people want answers from. Why? Can try to answer them? I haven’t been able to converse in months and to this day I have nothing to say. Nothing anyone wants to hear at any rate.

So no I have no answers, I am so sorry for that; if I find them I will give my remarks in the meantime please try somewhere else.

Expressing Thyself

Have you ever been dying to express yourself? Exaggerating it maybe. Dying is too strong a word. How does pining sound to your ears? The thing is it feels as if the only people will understand me will take some form of extreme antics…. like say death.

Okay saying what’s on my mind is a trivial thing without a doubt. It is an obsession. Why? Why is this so important to spill my guts? Is there anything that I could offer that’s worth hearing? Eek gads! There’s that choking reflex by the notion that I would have important information that this world. Me??… Say something that the world couldn’t  get by without? Does this place need to hear tidbits of a lost little lamb?

 Pretty hysterical isn’t it? Well it may be crazy but I cannot deny this pull for expression. Whether it’s based on self-indulgence or a calling (there’s that choking sensation) I must go along. Hard to fight when it’s so strong to do so.

So I want to shoot my mouth off no big deal; who doesn’t? There’s a big but to insert here. You see I spend most of my days trapped in a very confined space. This space is so small that a shoebox would offer more room but this isn’t a box it’s the cab of an eighteen wheeler. If you’re a Prius this is gigantic but if this were your home it’s awfully tight when the duration is 24/7. I was a terrible couch potato at home so this sitting around is agonizing on my rear end and my mind.

To not be grating nails on a chalk board in whines to my partner chose to close myself off. I hadn’t considered the repercussions. Not one bit and I hadn’t caught the problem and no it’s not repaired either.  Why would hushing it up bring issues to light? Well it’s this one simple thing it’s effected my tongue. So quiet is has been, so still with expressions in words. I haven’t rebuked someone’s opinions which are in direct contrast to my morals. As I am working on this weeks have gone by my mouth remains diligent in silence.  

Strange my friends very odd on how my psychic works!  There have been occasions when I can fully express thy self. I could taste all the seasonings for speech and that’s when the shoe drops.  I’m  uninspired into speechlessness. Why is that? It could astound a person with how silent echoes through my barren head.

Is this apart of human nature; we always want what we don’t or can’t have? Take for instance hair; mine is these strains of fine limp hair. This stuff impersonating hair is straight as can be while my partner’s hair is thick with rich luscious curls in a beautiful shade of brunette. My color they termed appropriately dishwater blonde. He of course doesn’t care for those curls; the nerve of that man! 

So my silence isn’t because I chose to be quiet it’s because of not liking my situation. I know I need to face the dreaded dissatisfaction. Hard when it’s so easy to be that way. I longed for freedom. No strings attached kind of freedom.  Suddenly there gone (to a certain extent) and I am loathing the experience to the point that buckets of tears have soaked my pillow nightly just so I can be returned to my former bondage.

Take last night it rained in Arkansas and Oklahoma that might have been my tears spilling I am terrified of driving a truck in rain and my tear ducts never dried up.

To get rid of dissatisfaction feel creating equalized balance in my world would alleviate some of my issues. Balancing an act is difficult. When I’m writing a story my aim is to form reason and meaning behind my words. I want the reader can sense it’s believable while this is the ideal situation rarely do I get my point across.  My walk has evolved into an event resembling a push in pull contest.

I tug life tugs back; creating a war that rages on. Life’s tugs are good to, nailing my feet so I am off kilter. That tightrope in the writer’s creative process has nothing on bringing about balance in my own life. My goodness this walk has loosened the marbles that once fit very nicely inside my brains. These spheres are actually tumbling out. It’s any ones guess where to taking my dreams with them. Dreams that held a perfect future the one I want. Make a note it’s what I want I have no idea what The Lord’s plans are for this lamb as of this date.

What I am to be what I am to correct is the reason for my blog. This site is really an exercise hoping the workout will sweat to the surface what’s really important. I never think of myself as a hoarder but this on top of my shoulders needs a good spring cleaning.

There are shelves stuffed to the brim of useless behaviors, but I hang on to stuff. I’ve never regretted throwing out a bag of stinky trash as for the litter in my life I hold it with a firm grip. It smells to the high heavens and these fingertips cleave to odious debris as if it were a slice of cheesecake. I know it’s not healthy it’s harmful chemicals but I’m powerless to do anything about it. It seems to my psychic, its goodness filled with desirable content. In the meanwhile chemical trails filters through crisscrossing to every person on my path; needling on those I love the hardest. My fingertip won’t lessen up on it. Why do I need to behold what should be removed from my habits?

Balance I need that’s for sure, making myself heard is true but maybe it’s best to wait for comprehension. I can understand so much and then there’s things I cannot get a handle on. Bringing my blog site back into play the title “Learning my path towards God” yet I rarely discuss the Bible. Well sorry to say; simply I do not understand it. Not one word can be wrapped around this pretty little head. There is one thought that bouncing from time to time – maybe I am not one of God’s chosen peoples.

I’m sure someone is tapping their foot thinking “oh now I see the garbage she’s talking about.” How can I tell as a person? Would it come from hearing others speaking of their relationship with The Lord or read others experiences? So far when it comes to listening and reading it can be enjoyable and it can seriously hurt too. Excruciating pain is by finding out how many are getting it, when I’m not. So it’s clear I can get envious, nothing to be proud I am recognizing  an error but I do that a lot comparing my life with others. The others isn’t always people sometimes it harbors from what I have deemed to be expectations from life.

Anyone say self- absorbed? True, s true but I can feel others discomfort. Like this government shutdown. Believe me as a truck driver I have been hit between the eyes. I was losing everything anyways but crimany did they have to come along and snatch the crumbs too? Well it’s hit far reaches of the country and I am deciding  do I keep my tongue still or shoot my mouth off?

Since I am not blessed with brilliance as a matter of fact have no idea what I skills or talents I have been given, apparently it’s  zero I will make a small list of what I would say if I were gifted enough to express they self. Since I am dying to express this is how I would like to make it: as an open letter.

Dear Members of Congress and the White House,

Good afternoon men and women who hold positions in important governmental chairs that belong to these United States as country I am proud to state that I am an American.  I would like to say to you the Representatives, Senators, all of the President’s cabinets including the president himself you have lately made a mockery of what this country means to me.

This began when each of you have forgotten that it is you who serves the citizens of this fine nation. You serve you are paid by  hard working Americans in all walks of life, Middle class and yes the poverty class too, the farmer, bank tellers,  office clerks, airline stewards, teachers,  mechanics, that teenager handing you your order at the drive thru, people in lower governmental offices like the custodial, file clerks, fire and police departments, etc.

Retirees slaved for years creating a strong healthy country, so sorry to inform you that Social Security we pay into is ours not yours! There people working in banks, hospitals, government entities, the military laying their life on the line and not one of did this just so you all can sit on your fannies getting paid way too much for a poor job! Personally I feel every American is entitled to withhold their taxes until you all get your performances up to standard.

No more will I sit idle as you erase our Bill of Rights, editing the constitution that our forefather fought to bring to life for the freedom of every citizen. Not  one of you has fought for our freedoms and you have butchered those precious God given rights since all you members have taken a seat in offices.

Before stripping people (yes they are human beings) of food stamps, an education, medical care, Social Security, military benefits, you first must start with yourselves. I do not want to pay for your free medical coverage, I do not want to pay for your million dollar retirement petition, I do not want to pay for your cooks, your drivers, you expensive meals and I really do not want to pay so that you can place into law my restrictions from complaining about what a horrible job you are doing, I do not want to have my right granted by the Bill of Rights to bear arms. Hasn’t anyone learned from what happened when alcohol was banded? If you forgot look it up it was call the Prohibition era. It was amended because it was a disaster.

Before I run my mouth too far I better rein myself in. Maybe being quiet is better?

 P.S. I may not be apart of God’s plan I have no intentions of giving up! I will continue to pursue a relationship with Christ.

Far Out

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I revel in the nearness of a cozy blanket. That spun yarn plush in comfort, oh to be wrapped up in it beside a toasty fire sipping coca as an old classic film protrays what I feel emcompasses a good life. Delicious!

Old vintage movies such as Abbott and Costello, Bob Hope movies including his road pictures have this magic of removing worldly stress. The blanket begins  unraveling my raw nerves with a coy invitation, nestled on the edge of a camel back chair where it speaks to me saying ‘ come take a load off by sitting a spell’
Instinctively I want to but can only give in after going over that to do list. Ah but when I do that list seems so unimportant when my joints in my back and knees are thanking me. It feels good it feels dang it right as a matter of fact.

Those days seem so far away. No more is there a cosy chair much less a throw to snuggle under. Granted summer doesn’t call for that kind of soul and body repair. For me summer calls for a big shady tree a cool stream is a delightful blessing but tender green grass suffices just fine as I listen to birds songs while chilling out doors. I love a good book to crack open after a fill of pillowy formations. A little game looking for animal shapes them my mind settles down to read. Guiltless relaxation of summer, I cool off my body’s knots come undone as my brain is fed. Fall and winter’s comfort may not be as beneficial for the mind it does wonders for my spirit!

Well I am far out here completely away from my comfort zone. Today to not make it so cumbersome I cooked, nothing fancy egg cheese ham sandwich. That’s it but oh what it did was reversed. Finding my harmony cooking it wasn’t at all! Only thing that came from that trial was how I had not managed to pull all my hair out is surprising. This is serious  cramped space no sink had to dig up soe cleverness on cleaning. Can anyone quess why I am gaining weight?

You can cook on a truck one we had before had a table this doesn’t. Doing dishes was daunting on that truck worst on this one, so my favorite hobby has become an annoyance.

So what am I to do to gain back not only my comfort zone but to get some zeal back into this life?

I’m still playing photographer with my cell phone could be one day I will grow up and get a real camera?

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Comfort we all like that place, don’t we? I do and it wasn’t easy coming clean with my partner on how much I detest and fearful I am in driving. It turns out he loves driving. I’d never guess it when he’s chewing out the other motorists as if each one has a personal vindetta against him. I think it’s both humorist and aggrevating.  I as a driver respond as when I was once them in automobiles. You have no idea what a difference it makes when you are bigger, heavier and cannot stop on a dime no more. Like today I had to make a quick turn on a small street no vehicles had been seen for a good ten minutes or more. Not until the turn one tiny little vehicle was up so close to my large booty of the trailer. If not weren’t for the shadow as I watched the back end would not have known. Brave person as I thank God for watching out for the both of us.

I have to wonder why am I out here, what is my purpose in life? What does driving a truck offer this world over me doing what I’d rather have for my life? What I would give to ask God directly since getting a responce that I understand  went somewhere else to find these answers.  I am reading a book. The author knew his calling was singing and playing guitar. That’s cool as  mine seems to be can I get to a rest stop before humulating myself kind of purpose. Most animalistic behavoir I can say. Eat sleep, pee thats it. Like right now I have got to go but the truck is being unloaded one cucumber at a time but I have a job so I must be thankful.

Thanking God is something I do all day and night long. I should be more grateful than I am after all if it weren’t for Him I couldn’t do this but I don’t like this driving thing. It appears he wants me here way far out from my comfort. Since I can’t seem to make lemonade out of a lemon think I’ll be stuck a long time.

Can I do this without losing my mind is the question…

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Dull and glittery

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Driving a truck tediously along highways can be let’s say it boringly dull! Dull dull dull yeah that extremely kind of dimmness that my wits are so besotted with themselves  they retreat into an  oblivion of nothingness. I had to take action! Right? 

Isn’t that what humans do, amimals go along with agendas,  people don’t. We change what we don’t care to deal with at least that’s what I try to do.  To break this down further try is the optimum word.

Rarely my deviations from what I dont care for meets with success.
Losing out I succeed in.  So good at that I am becoming a champion  losing. A champ prepares for their game mentally and physically. My mentally is this I am never surprised by my out comes. Those attempts for prosperity seldom meets my expectations.

My high ideas falling flat  can be  frustrating but  that’s okay. Edison took one thousand stabs at creating a lightbulb but he did get it done so what if it takes a thousand or ten thousand for that matter to reach what I want? Isn’t is worth it to gain from this world  what is desirable for my life?  I do believe it’s worth while.

When I was full of piss and vinegar as a teenager had elaborate plans. I dreamt of it took courses studied my brains out then life stepped in, a practical jokes on you blew  through  my door.Seventeen two short  months from independence is when derailment occurred. I wasn’t too worried if it came that easily it’ll show up again. So I believed! What I would pay for a crystal ball but none accurate enough to purchase I  tottled on my way through life.

I hadn’t known the word defeat and if I did would mot surrender to it.  Sure  pain as a child.was known. My mother made certain of it by  cutting my hair for to look like Twiggy.  That bad cut went on for two years until entering my ninth year of life. I looked like a cross dressing boy. Tears streamed down these cheeks of mine, invisibly  she never noticed.

Pain I knew , a different lose I knew too.  I was apart of the first AYSO (a soccer league) we played well. Well enough two of our girls where invited to play in Germany. We also never won a game, not one game. For the other teams they never scored more than one point over us, the games were that tight. I was defense so were the two invited so what we were missing were offensive players.

I was just fine with losing, being last to be picked or anything of that nature because I felt my ship would come any day. Forty years of waiting. People ask what I do im my spare time, I respond by saying  oh  my hobby  is waiting for the tides to bring my ship in. What do you do gor fun? They stare back blankly blubbering golf, just golf.

Forty years and as each year went by plans sought revisions for a  remodel. I didn’t want tp refurbish.  Unhappily with the changes little by little my plans dwindled like my tears at the hair cuts not noticable at first.

Sitting too much in tbe truck this lamb heart finds the blight depressing. It’s not  so much my plans losts as it’s living with regrets. You’d think I’d learn from it. I don’t.

Lessons lost on this one, should I get my head examined or just an IQ checked? Maybe both going from working on being one of the best studio sound engineers moving on up to rock n roll record producers at sixteen to just wanting to be at home. Okay I am not that simple would like to
include being tucked at a desk writing movie scripts. I’m fifty -five is it too late to squeeze my way into the movie industry?

I ask this searching for a reply gazing outside of the cab is Virginia’s tall trees speckled with homes I’ve dreamt of never owned. I’ve never owned anything so I go back to my cells screen. I don’t want to pay attention to what I clearly can’t have and I really do not want to be called upon how late our load is. This load of veggies belongs to none other than the giant  Walmart and they dont mess around.

I don’t do late. My mom was late everywhere she went, an embarrassment in the sixties. Late at work is a no no so to explain why we were late. Late began before picking up our load by having mechanical issues. We  broke down. In tbe desert. One more factor we knew due date not the time. Time in freight is like anywhere else, important,  that bit missing got to our company ….we were late what we were was not this late!

So I drove hard, over throwing fears of driving, passing on the left, using tbat left lane,  all night long. Outside frieght for entertaient highways were dull. Dull is way better than the night before where it bored down in buckets on dark unstripped unlit roads. So another night overiding fear to have it all be invain? Shouldn’t having to ignore my need for potty breaks as much as I could get away with amount to something? Not in trucking it seems.

I am not a solo driver, my partner asleep didn’t get up when I did stop. Today he’s stopping and stopping. This is where I learn one more reason on why detesting this driving  so easy to do. I should be grateful I’m on  a truck working. This is a good thing. On the other hand I can complain about my unqualifications in keeping a  relationship going with the opposite sex. This eludes me.

I should be complacent during failures, relationships, sports and that ship. So for today being late sits disagreeable in the pit of my stomach. I don’t like it.

Feeling the efffects by a  sour taste  my hands reaches for a soft touch of my dog’s fur. Lou is soft his coatsoothes my displeasures with life. Greedily I check my other dog Daphne who peers from her bed (my bed) with loving brown peeps then I find the will to take a breather. My head lightens to see that my partner with kidney issues. Not his fault just bad timing is still at the wheel will have to deal with the retail giant I will sit quietly waiting for cues that if at all possible tell me when I’ll get off this road. I mutter a prayer ‘dear Lord please make it sooner than later’

I want off this truck. It doesn’t seem to matter that in the last five weeks made more money than ever. Money can buy alot but what it hasn’t provided is time with my  grandbaby. That’s all I want , write at home to earn enough to be with my Riley Roos. Driving a truck will not do that. Leaving this truck will cost about what it cost to get on too.. I’m here only because a company was willing to hire me, it has zero to do with desire.( It will help play apart in a script) Getting on board had a huge price, I lost my grandbaby, my cats, my birds and nearly my relatiomship with my son who did lose custody of his daughter as a direct result of poor pay from learning tbe truck business. In leaving the new price will be losing my partner.

I thought alot  about consequences the night before white knuckling in rain as I went from Kingmen Az all the way into Albuquerque NM. That’s when I took a break. I became mesmerized by  glitter suspended before my truck.
This was truly a sight in Albuquerque. Night sKy blacker than pitch a cloud stretched as a feather boa above glittery twinkling lights. Rainbow array of illumination floated out from overpasses released tension in my grip of the wheel, spreading upwards for the temples pounding. It didn’t last but returned wben entering Memphis TN the glitter won in gaining my attention.

When I tell people I drive a truck they automatically say how exciting. What an adventure it must be for you! I always say oh yes it’s quiet fun. Why should I say hell no its boring! Thats what I want to say but it feels rude. Think that’s why I stop by here. I haven’t told my partner tbat I hate this truck as he discusses what kind of truck he’d like ‘us’ to buy. Be can go on about what a great tie our future will be as truckers. I think uugh. I want my grand daughter, I samt a bathroom, I want to sleep in a nonmoving bed so I can wake ready to face the day with exercise, go gran a cup of tea from my kitchen and settle behind the keyboard to write.
I love the night lights love the lityle towns such as the one today Gordansville VA. I can ecperience it all better in a car. A truck is like beimg a child at a toy store window front.  He or she can see the shiny play things they can’t touch it. I can view but I can’t get involved. Trucks requires special parking then there’s time running against you. Time isn’t your friend as a driver. I have to watch it constantly to prevent violations yet somehow I lose whole days. Ho figure.

But I like the glitter and not the dull. Without dull highways I may not appreciate the glittery evenings as I find clues on where to get off.

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Waiting for that sound that’s all mine

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Waiting takes patience, so does typing on a cell phone atleast for today I have my reading glassed. It’s incredible how I lose items like my glasses inside a small space but I go days before they turn up. But this nlog’s subject isn’t about losing my stuff its about enduring waiting. Or are they really one in the same?…humm think there’s more to this.

I don’t believe enjoyment abounds being placed on hold. The calmist person looses cool when their call is routed to hold. Anger could be blamed on sitting there listening to computerized jazz music or simply named elevator musak. Tortious sounds entering sensitive eardrums well can elevate hatred for being on hold.  In life there’s no soundtrack when we are stopped. You wait in silence without cues on when it will end.

When it comes to this background ambience I’d go with …..ah oh can’t come up with a happy tune. First song to mind was the Beatles ‘Ticket to Ride’ it’s got a catchy beat lyrics are down right depressing.

Difficult part of choosing is that my music preference is heavy rock I love it! Absolutely love it and being on thr roaf there are some really terrific stations! Inbetween those great ones are the complete opposite of great then there’s static.  Lately I have been turning the Christian stations on.Sometimes its by choice too. Could I go with a soundtrack from this genre? Possibly  for now I couldn’t but when I do it will be upbeat, the kind that will put a jig in my step.

Do you feel it’s important to have a positive beat to live life through?

Reading helps me out but music stays completely in tack. What I read gets jumbled  mixed in ways  its lost. Meditating on words is a disaster. My mind won’t be quiet. It roams and strolls there is no hold button for me. My life goes on hold real well not my brain.

Holding in this holding pattern of my life will continue until I figure it out. Accepting it could be vital. One thing, for this lamb acceptance lasts until the next strife encountered. How do I hang on to acceptance  being able to find joy in isolation of being on hold?

They say trusting in God, allowing Jesus into your life brings joy woth a bonus of Hom filling in the holes of your life. The thing is I do believe Jesus is my saviour, even as the words in the Bible are lost on me.

Will I be kept from family and friends until I do get the Bible? The idea has me in tears as I type this out. I miss my family my friends who I haven’t seen on years.

Well they do say the Lord doesn’t give you more than you can handle. Can I handle enough to deal with this? Not much of a choice is there. So I will continue to look for that happy beat you know the one that has you hooked from the get go. There’s no question because your name is written in the rythmn that’s what I want for my soundtrack. So in waiting to get off of hold will be seeking out musicial beats to dance my life through. Not such a bad quest is it?

This pic is my truck  where I reside

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