That's My Girl!

Danica Patrick and Helio Castroneves, April 20, 2008 - "MOTEGI, Japan (AP) - Danica Patrick became the first female winner in IndyCar history Sunday, taking the Indy Japan 300."

Ever since my dad first told me about Denise McCluggage, one of the first female race car drivers in the 1940's, when I was in Jr. High, I've had a vision of driving race cars, or at least getting to some driving school. I've been behind the wheel since I was about 6 years old when I almost "drove" my mom's car into the river. Sitting behind the wheel, I happily took it out of park and into neutral and found myself slowly coasting down toward the water. Mom came out and fixed my situation, surely through her mothering psychic tendencies. Then I moved onto my Dad's or God-sister's laps to steer on some quiet dirt road. Eventually I was romping around in arroyos with my uncle in my Toyota 4x4.

At various times, I could be found driving everything from a golf cart [into the lilac bushes], to a 15 passenger van, to a Ferrari Modena, to one of my dad's V8 Lightning Motorcycles Trykes at the ripe old age of 11! (http://www.lightningmotorcycles.com/ ) Though I adore my Tundra, I'm on the lookout for a more fuel efficient vehicle. I won't get started on the astronomic gas prices these days which no one seems to know who sets them. But I've never actually sold one of my cars in order to buy a new one. I have very little idea of how the process actually goes.

In any case, I love to drive. I've always loved to drive and I take it seriously, unlike so many people on the roads today (ahem, New Orlineans!) I love that I have a standard transmission and when I'm driving an automatic I realize how boring it is. My dad taught me how to double-clutch when I got my first car - a 1980 Subaru GL Hatchback! This poor thing was a sad gray, I eventually had to use a screw driver for an antenna, and neither of the rear windows would lock. When I locked my keys in my car I would just reach through the back window with the original long antenna and poke through one of the rings to save myself from having to call a locksmith. That car saw some hard times. Because it had 4-wheel drive we thought it was invincible and would take it "romping" through arroyos it had no place being. It was even searched for drugs once. I say that lightly since there were none whatsoever in the car and so she only experienced the embarrassment with me rather than the slammer. To top things off, my Subaru was decked-out with the ill-designed "cow catchers", or bumpers, attached by wood and screws and fitted with metal bars painted white that served as the impact landings. Hard to imagine, so I'll have to find a picture of it. Needless to say, my poor car was the recipe for endless humor. But I've never found a car so efficient at getting me out of the snow, or providing me with a better reason for taking the back roads of NM - the speedometer didn't go over 70mph so I was safer to stay off the highways. Back then gas was about $1.30 a gallon.

So that was the car that I learned how to double-clutch for on account of the tranny being somewhat old and stingy. I also learned about patience with that car because I couldn't force it to do the things it just wasn't designed for. I also had to learn to love the slow lane, because I had dreams of getting to the fast lane and those dreams are the kind that take their time. I still dream of the fast lane and the closest thing I can come to attaining this is driving the trykes, which are nothing like any other vehicle out there.

But for now, I'll have to keep dreaming of the racing school and let Danica and Denise rule the roads.

Eye

My left eye has been seriously twitching for a few days now. Ever happened to you? It first ocurred the first time I was at a gun range a few months ago, and every time a gun would go off my eyes would twitch even when I was shooting. I have read the twitch is associated with stress.

Every since the indoor gun range, whenever I hear "LOUD NOISES!" or get scared by any little thing, my eye twitches.

Until recently it had subsided. But this last weekend, it began twitching so much, and with little provocation, I thought my face was going to contort into some permanent wink-like state. The recurrence has slowed, but the strength of the actual twitch has not. When it happens, I bet the person looking at me might imagine I'm on the verge of Tourrettes. At least it feels that strong, but I guess I don't really think I look like I'm about to snease, I just feel like I look like my cheek is reaching for my nose.

Anway, eye twitches have been linked to exhaustion, stress, dehydration. I think at any given point in a working person's life, they have a bit of all of these at once. So listen to your body. Or your eye. It just might be trying to tell you something.
Side note: I wrote papers on the Eye in both Jr. High and High School. I still have the E encyclopedia I used. Oops!

I'm going to have some more chocolate and then go to bed.

Sweet dreams!

Men and Their Cats - work in progress

You may know a man in your life who says he dislikes cats. This may be true according to his male friends. But on the inside, men truly love the carefree and non-nonchalant spirit of cats. They can be temperamental, but essentially they do whatever they please and require less attention than the alternative. Dogs may be more loyal, but cats are narcissistic to a fault. Several of the men in my life, near and far, have a thing for cats. They openly adore them, even if now and then they offer you cat tacos or to send them to you through the mail. The cats you see below are a few of these that have graced my life and that of several regal, adventurous, very special men.

#1 Spider - Spider is actually one of our neighbor's cats. Benny calls her is other daughter, as Spider is as close as family. In fact, Benny calls out the guard when Spider finds her way into an unwary neighbor's apartment. There have been many a day that we've left our door open only to find her curled on our bed, or in a dark corner behind one of our couches sleeping away the afternoon. She's finds it especially peaceful on a shelf underneath my clothes in the closet. She has been the bearer of many laughs, new friendships, and some words had between neighbors. We've been told she's not allowed to visit any more due to getting locked in one day. But thankfully we've overcome her father's anger and are now more vigilant. She is a quiet delight, until she follows you into the kitchen. I relish her midnight surprises, when Aaron quietly lets her into the house, and each time she rounds the corner of the couch announcing her presence on a sunny day.

#2 and 3 - The Pack - Dewitt's Fruit and Vegetable Stand on River Road, one of the landmarks on my commute to work. These felines are neighborhood cats, from what I found out from Mr. Dewitt. In fact, they ran the show even before the storm and they are not only renegades but hard core resourceful cats. Any given day I drive by I see not one but maybe two different ones from the day before. There are several of them, maybe 6 different ones I've noticed, straining to see as I drive past. It's become kind of a daily habit to look for the cats at the fruit stand, usually in some shade, in a box, or standing tall on the front step. The first one is Annie, Mr. Dewitt said. She rose to rub against my knee as I was taking a picture of her. Apparently she has given a good warning scratch to a few of his customers. She had the most amazing copper coloring from her shoulders to her hind end. The second kitty didn't bother to notice me as she curled quietly in her cardboard. The Dewitt family and fruit stand is among the few to be graced by this pack of semi-wild royals. But Mr. Dewitt has the pleasure of being surrounded by them each day he braves he the humidity to sell his home grown citrus and succulents.
#4 "The neighborhood dogs treed an adolescent orange cat in an olive tree. When Ben agreed to take the kitty, he named him "Oliver," after the Latin name for the tree. Ben and Oliver were, at first, wary of each other, but in no time at all, Oliver had claimed his throne, and Ben was his fool. Of course, it's hard to be dignified all the time, and Oliver, showing no shame at all, often reclined on his back." ~Ann
Oliver was my Uncle Ben's cat. He was one of those souls, like my sweet Delores, who is a transplant. When Ben decided he needed to spend his days in Hawaii, Oliver went to live with my Aunt Ann, like my sweet Delores. He began his life with a man and ended it with a woman, like so many other men-things. Oliver lived a peaceful life in their peaceful homes. He mostly kept to himself, but not in a scardy-cat way, like my sweet Delores. He would love on your shin or rest quietly under your calm strokes. When venturing out of Ann's house, he often found himself on the roof only to call out in alarm to alert Ann that she was needed. Photogenic like most cats, Ollie rests on this bench surrounded by feline accessories organized to create the most efficient napping space. Oliver left this earth last year, gently ushered by Ann and her tender care. We all miss his soft, quiet love and noble presence.

*pic to come soon #5 Missy is a hand-me-down. As most cat-people know, only females can be calicos, all calicos are girls. Missy lived in the home my dad now lives in. I remember walking through the flea market in Albuquerque one Saturday when my dad recieved a call that went something like this, "John, this is Roy. You like cat's don't you?"

"Well, yeah. Why?"
"Because Sarah can't take both of her cats to [Kentucky]. Would you like to keep one of them?"

"Sure. I'll take 'er."

And so, through the simplest of conversations had by men, my dad inherited a calico name Missy. Though he doesn't particularly like the name Missy, he hasn't bothered to change it. More often than not, she is "The Cat." What is so loveable about this girl is that she is a John-lover. She follows him everywhere. She sleeps with him. She calls to him. She plays with his laser as he points it along the wall, on the floor under the TV where she can't find it. For heaven's sake, when he watches TV she rests her head on his feet. Without fail, she always has to be touching him or walking with him. She makes the house her home, but Dad is her accessory, her best friend, her blankie. He gets aggravated with her long white hair, but never with her love.
More to come on this one! Stay tuned for more curious cats!

Feelings

Typed the days following last entry: I feel like I have very little control over my emotions. Any question could trigger a laugh or a break down. I'm somewhere between calm and panic. Things seem bitter-sweet. I feel guilty for being away. I feel out of control of my future, and that is something I should be in control of.




Pics:
Beloved Sandias
Asphault soccer player
My Africa
Neighbors

Today:
Much more clear-headed these days, though most of you know that's still not saying much for me. ;-) But in terms of being able to focus on things outside of the immediacy of here and now, I am venturing forth. My dad is doing much better and that means I am too. Suffice to say, after getting out of the hospital and going through a solid round of antibiotics, he is well on his way to much better health. I don't panic now if we don't talk twice a day.
I've gotten back in the swing of things at work, though from what I understand this is the slowwww season.
Here's to new beginings and amazing friends and family. Thank you so much to those of you who were able to share some of your time with my dad and I. Your hearts are priceless and I can't thank you enough!