Whisky Tango everywhere!

Thank you to everyone who participated in the Johari Window! I thought that was really cool. If you want to do one of your own and I 'know' you well enough to participate, let me know! I was really startled at some attributes folks assigned to me (confident?!). It was an eye opener.

Thanks also to everyone's comments and emails about my Boy's small anger issue and my not coping well with upcoming school. Please keep 'em coming! I need all the help I can get.

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Ya know that horrible feeling you get when you've stepped in something nasty? Something sqidgy, maybe even warm? Well I got it yesterday. I had to go back to Lexington.

OK, I didn't have to go back I suppose. I went to pick up a load of pigeons and when I asked the nice gentleman where he was located he said the words that made me shudder:

"Do you know where Pelion is?"

*squish!* Bleh! Yuck! Eeeeeeewww!

Uh, yeah. I know where Pelion is.

I don't know about the rest of the county but the area in which I unfortunately found myself (for over 10 years), roughly between Lexington and Pelion, was overpopulated by Homo Rubbishii Alba, or your basic white trash.

Few of them worked - most were supported by the government - but everyone had at least a few horses, a few pick up trucks, a muscle car or two, perhaps a tractor. Friday and Saturday nights throbbed with the sounds of various drunken outdoor parties which would last until dawn. Even the most minor of holidays was cause for hours of fireworks and shooting off of guns. There were drunks on the road at all times of the day and night.

Charming.

So after loading my pigeons (whom I got from a distinctly non-whisky tango gentleman in Swansea) I scattered back out - through the dreaded area - and escaped onto the motorway toward home, thanking my lucky stars for Evil Genius Husband, for the Burrow, for the 'good' side of the lake.

I swear I don't think I left Winston-Salem that fast.

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As an amusing aside, and just to prove that Money and Trash can go hand-in-hand, let me share this with you:

I stopped at the Mc D's (when I reached 'my' neck of the woods) to get a diet coke. As I was coming out to my car a huge, ugly, white tank of a European luxury car (I think it was a Mercedes) came whipping in beside EGH's Toyota. He stopped indolently across two spaces - most of the tank in one space, right front quarterpanel and tyre in the other.

I paused because the space he was flopping over into was the one between his car and mine and I had to step into it to get in the Toyota. The corpulent bloke behind the wheel fixed me with a blank stare as the passenger side door swung open.

Out jumps a young man, approximately middle-school age, in his stocking feet. Yep, no shoes on, just socks. On the nasty tarmac right outside the door of a busy Mc Donalds. On a cold, drizzly day.

Well, I frowned but chalked it up to him being, well, a middle-school-aged boy. I mean, I don't have any yet, but this is the age that EGH teaches and so I kinda know how they can be. It'd be just like a kid that age to kick off his shoes in the car and then step out in his socks.

There were two middle aged females in the back seat, presumably one was the mother, and I waited expectantly for the scream of outrage (or at least a: "For goodness' sake, Brandyn, put your shoes $175 Air Jordan XX1s on!"). Instead, the driver hands the boy a hundred dollar bill (no, I'm not kidding. This was Daddy Warbucks here.) and the kid turned and ran into the McDonalds.

In his socks.

I wonder if LL Bean or Lands End makes those chic caps in the fashionable faded canvas with the suede brim adored by all upper-middle-class suburbanites ... with a big, honkin' WT on it?! 'Cause we need some over here, please.