Last night was nightmarish. I didn’t hardly sleep and the hours I did I woke up several times. Her crying / whimpering / barking / growling is not exactly conducive to REM. At points she revealed my desire to kill her when her howls sounded like TOBYYYYYYY! I had her in my room, in her kennel / crate with a blanket. Tonight, a whole new game plan. She will be located in the bathroom with the door close, tucked in tight with a blanket, warm water bladder, clock and sheet over the top. Me? Ear plugs. There will be no more crate brakes every two hours. Bumpin’ it up to four. Live with it bitch. YES WE CANE.

Kita Bear. Born July 27th, 2009. She now weighs 5 pounds, 9 ounces. Front row, brown eyes, cute as a buttermilk biscuit.

and then …

For those of you unfamiliar with McBabe’s, please refer back to Mead, Dancing & Drinking to gain some background knowledge on the honkie-tonk wonder.

* The Normals
Pertaining to, or speaking of, all those working full-time, self or otherwise employed; individuals who know and understand social cues, graces and are genuinely interested in the well being of others; persons of intelligence and wit.

Mead *
You should already be familiar with this character.

The Stomper *
Extroverted thirty year old male with a giggly laugh and large goofy smile. Works as a corrections officer. He has decent rhythm but is somehow a millistep off; this makes for a very awesome awkwardness on the dance floor. Do not mistake this for clumsy. The Stomper is very coordinated. He just provides a little over embellishment when there is any stomp involved in the dances. He used to spill beers on the bar when he’d stomp on the dance floor.

Tall One
Tall and broad woman in her late twenties who is currently living off of unemployment yet continues to frequent the bars. To her credit, she is very friendly and does not drink. Unfortunately she her muse is gossip and the fabrication of drama.

Realtor *
Quiet, soft-spoken and seemingly reserved young woman in her mid twenties. Once you get to know her (or she has a sip of the devil’s punch), she’s a bit more spit-fire. This girl is sharp, bright and a little spunky. Very fun to be around.

Smiles
A very intelligent, successful forty five year old pot-bellied, Harley-riding male who happens to be an amazing dancer. He has a large grin and always smiles while dancing. I would consider him one of The Normals but he is a dirty old man who has a taste for women and lewd jokes.

Brother *
A divorced late thirty something ex-Mormon male with two kids who, up until a recent purchase of cowboy boots, wore pleated pants with dress shoes to the cowboy bar. He now dressed in blue jeans and his new boots. Despite the sound of the first sentance, he is quite normal. Nicest man you’ll ever meet. He is kind, easy to talk to, intelligent and very interesting.

Curls and Whiskey
With two (or three?) children at home, this single, mid thirties woman frequents the bar for escape. She starts with whiskey and then moves on to beer. Friendly at first but quite manipulative. She is friends with Tall One.

The Aggressor
A seemingly despirate, overly friendly school teacher who has a very large and obvious crush on Brother. Because Brother is so nice, The Aggressor takes his kindlness as attention and punces on it like a large cat in heat. Her name would be Couger if she went after younger prey.

My sister and I sat in the back seats. I always, and still, sit on the passenger side behind my mom. My legs have always been longer and I, therefore, was privy to the side with more room. My dad’s seat always sat, and still sits, as far back as it goes. For some reason my sister always hated these drives. I don’t remember when she first started to voice her complaints, but I remember her stating this fact very clearly in our high school years. Maybe it was because on road trips she always took [takes] too much stuff and mashes it below her feet, around her body and back behind her head. Though I doubt she has claustrophobia and could actually make a convincing argument for her enjoying the confinement (seems how she always took to confined spaces as a child and enjoys hidden cubbies, etc). Or maybe she didn’t like the drives because she would get bored. She always had her head in a book, which I had trouble understanding how she could focus. I would have read but there was so much to see! Reading seemed so dull in comparison.

Irregardless, her and I are quite opposite. I cannot explain why I loved going for drives so much. I have always been someone who can’t sit still and really don’t enjoy being indoors for very long (I claim the H.D. half of A.D.H.D.) But somehow, I sat. I watched the trees, studied the mountains, admired the houses, horses, wildlife, sky, clouds, and so on. To this day, driving entices me; it is my lure. I often have a strong urge to leave. Not for a while, but forever. Grab my essentials and hit the road, “with no particular place to go”. Unfortunately the PJ in me (PJ being my father: Practical Jon) seems to grab hold. I never end up leaving forever (yet), but the only way to curb this compulsion is to drive. I jump in my truck, Tucker (Tuck the Truck), and roll on. Usually it takes three or four hours before I am le tired and satiation sets in.

I believe my love of driving is two fold.

If it weren’t for PJ’s desire to have a family, I am fairly certain he would have been a wanderer. He would have had a Harley and roamed the States, staying in place to place for a few weeks or months before moving on to the next town, the next adventure. Because of this reason, I think, our family went for drives. Therefore, there is some innate, inherent force within me, derived from my father’s need and desire to go.

In addition to, and possibly because of this last point, driving gives me time to think, providing an introspective opportunity. I crank up my country music and my mind cranks up the processing. I don’t necessarily solve problems while driving, but I certainly gain more clarity.

I love driving.

For instance, I love waking up in the morning, checkin’ my email, gettin’ excited about who’s blogged, then go into the kitchen and turn on the stove to make hot water. I grab my favorite mug, my french press and my apple red thermos. My french press does not actually get the pleasure of being used for greatness. I do not have the high caliber grinder needed to archive consistency for FP (french press). Anyway, next I grab my little filter (as seen in picture atop the FP). After placing a paper filter in, (I don’t like cowboy coffee unless I’m camping) I scoop in six or so heaping spoonfuls of coffee. I then prep my apple red thermos with hot water. You must not skip this step—it is the key to hot coffee all the day long. When the kettle screams, I tip it over and pour it out. Add sugar and milk to taste, then pour into my favorite mug my morning brew. The remainder of my coffee goes into my apple red thermos. End routine.

So, as you can see, this is one small step in my day. It is neither my whole day, nor a significant stretch of time. Instead, a small [yet important] detail.

For five days I will be visiting my cousins. I will get to meet their new baby boy (born back in October) and go to the start of the Iditarod in downtown Anchorage. WHOOP!

Just the other day I was catching up on my news and came across this lovely article on CNN. Blam. What if it blows when I’m in the air?! They claim the volcano will erupt—just a matter of time. Mt. Redoubt stands at 10,197 feet and is located SW of Anchorage. As seen in the map below.

If the winds come in from the south east, Anchorage may be covered in ash! I have Googled and researched and found the Alaska Volcano Observatory. They can be followed on Twitter! I am embedding their Tweets and tomorrow will have an AK or burst eruption watch on the site!

Mt. Saint Helens was smaller than Mt. Redoubt before it erupted, standing at 9,677 feet! Sometimes I am jealous of those who were witness to an eruption that was “the most significant to occur in the contiguous 48 U.S. states (VEI = 5, 0.3 cu mi, 1.2 km³ of material erupted), in terms of power and volume of material released, since the 1915 eruption of California‘s Lassen Peak.” Would it not be an incredible and awesome (true use and meaning of the word) event to see? If no one got hurt, I would wish Mt. Rainer (14,411 feet) to blow. And I wish the same for Mt. Redoubt if I could guarantee my safe arrival in AK and everyone else’s safety!

Mt. Saint Helens

1. He’s hot.

2. He has MAD dance skills.

3. Vocals kick ass. I lud dat falsetto.

4. Curly hair.

5. Tall-er.

6. Great sense of humor.

6.5. Like SO funny.