the smoking gun. err, dashboard...

so, i am back from the beach. i came back kicking and screaming. well mainly just screaming. it's hard to kick and drive at the same time. the week went by too fast. it was absolutely glorious though. GLORIOUS!

my sister-in-law, Rachel, went paddle boarding with me. i wouldn't say she went willingly; i mainly bullied her into it because i didn't want to go alone. i will say, she was a trooper and did quite well. she did ask me to go shopping with her on many occasion, but i just couldn't bear to leave the beach.

i realized that i am a person who is going 90 mph at all times. no stopping, no slowing down, no sleeping. just going, going, going. but when i get to the beach (and this may be true of all water, but i am going to say the beach) i stop. everything slows down. granted, i am still doing about 45 mph, but i'll take it. something about the ocean calms me. that is not an easy task folks. i have been trying unsuccessfully for the past 25 (yes, 25) years to figure that one out, and apparently all i need is the ocean.

now that i am back to reality, i am back to cramming as much in the day as possible. this move may be the death of darwin and i. we realized on monday that we have until next friday to finish everything. EVERYTHING. the inside is mainly done. just a few things that can't be packed up until darwin is finished milling, but most everything has been cleared. the yard. well the yard is a slow process that is going to require most of our weekend to tackle.

i was driving keisha to the new shop with a load of miscellaneous crap on tuesday and there i was jumping onto 285 from 20 and i look down and she is smoking out the dashboard. well hello, this is a problem. i pull over on 285 and try not to get hit by any semis, and call darwin. thankfully this time he actually answered his phone. i told him calmly (rather panically) that keisha's dashboard was smoking. he told me to turn her off (way ahead of you there) and turn off all the switches (propane and veggie oil) - also way ahead there- and wait a minute to see if it stops. so it stopped. he told me it was probably fine, but if it started again to call him back because i was going to have to perform keisha emergency surgery.

WHAT! oh, this is just what i want to hear....

so we pull back on to 285 and la la la la i look down and keisha starts smoking again. i pull off, get to a sketchy gas station (sketchy at best) and call darwin. HERE WE GO. pop the hood. see the wire coming off the battery on the driver side, clip that from the battery and the plug. the close the propane tank. if that doesn't work then leave the truck and run away and don't tell me about it, because that means there is a problem with the factory wiring and....(you get the idea)

so here i am. in the ghetto, scrounging around keisha for some form of useful tool to clip wire. i can find no shortage of screw drivers, an ipod shuffle (which darwin though he lost), a bungee chord, some headphones, a tape, and of course nothing to clip wire with. i am standing in the back of keisha basically inside the toolbox looking for something, anything. grasping at straws at this point. then i hear this rickety voice screaming at me, that i don't belong in a truck and i shouldn't be driving that big thing, and i need to get out the back of it before i hurt myself. i look up and see this man approaching the truck. now normally this would have made me nervous, but i was PISSED. i shot him the look of death and scream WHAT DO YOU WANT? he promptly pivoted and walked away. after scrounging and being yelled at, i remember: I PUT BANDING SHEARS IN ONE OF THESE BOXES! yes! problem solved. button keisha back up and we are on our merry little way to get the hell out the ghetto.

problem solving folks. problem solving.

ciao.

catching a drift...

it's thursday. which means tomorrow is friday. which in tandem means: no work and the beach! WOOOOOO!! i cannot wait to get away from atlanta. i love atlanta, well most of the time, but right now i want out. in quite possibly the worst way possible. i don't want to play anymore. i want to sit by the ocean, drink beer, eat copious amounts of seafood, and watch the world melt away. that seems fantastic...

whoever tells you that moving isn't stressful and will be pain free, should be shot in the face right then in there. no questions asked, no waiting to see if they are kidding, no nothing. they should be shot. granted our move hasn't been terrible (i think i just called myself out here). but seriously, i have organized the move within and inch of it's life. i mean come on, i am good at organizing. we have almost completed the warehouse. the yard, well the yard is a whole 'nother story completely. i knew that was going to be a bitch from day one. it always is. staring at me with that smug - there is nothing you can do about me - face. that is if it were a person of course instead of an inanimate object, but you catch my drift.

ahhh drift. to be adrift. tomorrow tomorrow. focus. focus.

well i'm shot now. all i can think about it sand, salt and sea. the three major food groups of the soul. well my soul anyhow.

but seriously. moving. it's sucks any way you plan it. it's daunting unless you can do it in stages. or when you realize that half the stuff (more like 3/4) you thought you had to move isn't yours. SCORE. we also got inspected by the fire marshal. because you know what is useful. getting inspected when you have a month left on your lease and you have been there over 3 years. seems like a good a time as any. oh, did i forget to mention that we have never had one before? yea that's right. NEVER.

so we weren't quite up to snuff on all of our codes, but the guy was nice and let it slide and said to fix it and told me when he would be back to make sure i had fixed it. then darwin opens his big mouth...i swear. he told me to handle the fire marshal and then he decides that he wants to butt in on things and talk with the dude. i could of kicked him. if we were all sitting at a table i would have, or maybe thrown my knife at him. i had it covered. the paperwork was signed and we were ready to go. JESUS PETE!

now, i should have clearly seen that coming from a mile away. you know. boys being boys. i've got to make sure that everything is in working order. i'm not an idiot, i got it covered. you do leave me in charge of your company and made me cfo....remember????????????????

silly boys. when will they ever learn?

ciao.


THE BEACH!!!

it's.my.birthday.

i am a toddler. i have known this for quite some time. that being said IT'S MY BIRTHDAY. woooooooooooooooooooooooooo

i really, really like birthdays. i also really, really like christmas. anything that comes with no strings attached presents i am usually a fan. i mean who isn't a fan of presents? they come wrapped with shiny bows on them and you get to rip them open and destroy the paper and on top of that you get a new fashion accessory by wearing the bow around. WHAT IS NOT AWESOME ABOUT THAT?

i may be a little overenthusiastic about my birthday, but whatever. it's MY birthday. i'm hoping that this 25th year of my life is going to be better than the 24th. i will chalk 25 up to a win if 1 of 2 things happens, or both. 1. my car doesn't get stolen 2. i obtain a new hobo wallet - BIG GOALS...ha

it's friday and it's my birthday. my attention span is shot at best. i was doing well this morning, but now i am just a ball of "it's my birthday" energy. should make for a great accomplishing friday.

BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!

ciao.