Fall leaf report 2012: crack smoking in Great Smoky Mountain National Park

I finally decided to take two days and head to the mountains to view the fantastic fall colors and do some hiking with Troy. The news reports gave glowing reviews of radiant leaf colors not seen for a decade. Reports of outstanding fall foliage were greatly overstated and may be the result of either hopeful merchants or crack-smoking leaf hunters.

Let’s review what good fall leaf color looks like.

Roaring Fork in a good fall color year (photo credit to Troy, not me)

Now, let’s see what exists there this year:

OK, but I will not be composing poetry rhapsodizing over the verdant fall colors.

For those of you who want to know, there is good color in a 1-mile stretch heading to Cades Cove (roughly 5 miles in) and there is some decent color in Greenbrier and around Chimney Tops. However, the crowds are unrelenting, the traffic is horrendous, and there is of course the horror known as Gatlinburg to contend with. I’d pass on this year. Unless you enjoy endless streams of Mississippians in Cadillacs cruising at 2 mph in Cades Cove slamming on their brakes every time they see a deer.

An oasis in a sea of fudge shops, Dukes of Hazard memorabilia and Ripley’s Believe it or Not.

Wikipedia needs better sources

Apparently, Wikipedia is looking to expand their sources on blowjob gestures.

Some things just really speak for themselves.[/caption]

The summer of my discontent

This summer has not gone exactly as planned. To start with, I am not jazzed with encroaching age and watching my body collapse into ruin is kind of sucking. My parents failed to cover this aspect of life and I find I am ill-prepared to deal with the onslaught of lupus and all its fun manifestations in conjunction with gravity. Gravity is evil. Kids, trust me on this one. Sure, it keeps you attached to the earth and all, but it also causes the fall of many body parts you had no intent to allow to slide.

I also got absolutely nothing done I intended to do. I intended to go kayaking in Florida. This did not happen. I intended to drop 15 pounds. Whatever. I intended to finish my novel. So not done. All I have done is work. A lot. And give blood to nurses so that doctors can run endless tests to confirm that I am, in fact, decrepit. Thank you Captain Obvious, I am aware that my knees will not bend and my hands cannot make a fist anymore.

Work is all fine and well, but when it consumes everything, I think it’s time to realign what you are doing. Lawyers work insane hours. It’s part of the job and the hours combined with the stress of litigating pretty much guarantee an unhealthy lifestyle. I have worked more hours than I can possibly explain and I am no happier than I was before I gave up all those hours. In fact, I kind of resent I can’t get them back. Troy is on a two-week trip out west to go commune with nature and climb and hike and try to plan new ways to kill me on exotic hikes next year, and I am in the office. This sucks.

As the result of my growing sense that I will never get to do anything awesome unless I simply pack up and do it, I am declaring shenanigans. Fuck work. Time for something new. Plenty of people get to my age and construct bucket lists. Yawn. I think it’s more appropriate to compile a list of things I will not be doing. This is my unbucket list:

1. Working a 70 hour work week.
2. Driving 55 in the left lane.
3. Giving up chocolate.
4. Prednisone. I have had enough.
5. Organizing my spice rack.
6. Actually finishing The Rise and Fall of Western Civilization.
7. Smiling politely at people I can’t stand.
8. Vacuuming my house every day.
9. Living completely safely.
10. Making my dogs sit for their biscuit, every time.
11. Pretending interest in someone’s inane chattering.
12. Drinking gin martinis. Vodka only.
13. Attending every family event because I am expected to.
14. Watching the news every night.
15. Buying new suits for work.
16. Wearing high heels.
17. Brazilian waxes.
18. Getting up early every day.

I intend to add to this as time goes on. I cannot believe I have wasted so much time doing stupid things because someone wants me to or because I am supposed to. I have forgotten to enjoy all the traveling I do because the traveling has become nothing more than a brief punctuation in a long stretch of noise and activity. It is hard to be quiet and enjoy what’s in front of you when all you think of is what’s left to get done when you get back. Life is very short and can change on a dime. Enjoy what you have and do what you love because you might not have the tomorrow you expect.

Grand Teton. I should be there.

Has anyone seen our weather?

Dear Death Valley,

It appears you left your park unlocked and allowed your weather to escape to Tennessee. I’m sure it’s just an oversight that you haven’t come to collect it yet. However, I am sweating in ways that I cannot describe. It’s the kind of hot where you drive down the street wearing a muumuu draped over the steering wheel so you can get cold refreshing air from the AC on your lady parts because your ass melted into the seat on contact. It also appears y’all stole our weather. We would like you to return it. Death Valley is sitting at a lovely 99 today, which is hot, but livable in Tennessee at this time of year.

A balmy 99 in the desert

By contrast, at 3:30 today, this is what the temperature is here in Nashville:

wtf?

Come get your weather, assholes. I am not amused. Thanks.

Science Geek alert – aurora borealis

I have always wanted to see the aurora borealis. There are two main flaws with this plan. One, I live in the South, where auroral displays are pretty damned rare and two, it’s hard to plan your schedule around coronal mass ejections* to make plane reservations to get there in time to see them.  Of course, getting to see these displays generally requires winter time (darkness is essential) and northern latitudes. Winter + northern latitude = really fucking cold which everyone knows I am morally opposed to. Also, polar bears.  Since this winter has been freakishly warm and today we are expecting mass destruction in the form of tornadoes here in the Nashville area, I present this video of aurora borealis from space because this appears to be as close as I am going to get to either outer space or the northern lights. If Troy really loved me, he’d book me on the space shuttle so I could see the famed northern lights from the relatively warm comforts of the shuttle, with the bonus of zero gravity (things have got to be perkier in outer space).

*that sounds really dirty

Feuding in the holler

I have been in trial almost non-stop for nearly four weeks. This makes me unhappy for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is an appalling lack of time to do anything remotely interesting and fun.

I could be here. Sadly, I'm not.

Instead, I am in rural Tennessee in court dealing with a land feud between a family whose tree has zero branches and a Californian who moved in to this county to buy acreage for horses. Guess which side the judge is (distantly) related to?

I believe this family may actually be related to the Hatfields.

Some actual quotes from the witnesses:

“I was raised up in that there holler by my sister, Mama”.

“It’s always been known that we owned that there land since my great great great grandpappy got it for fightin’ in the War of 1812.”

“We was squirrel huntin’ up yonder when she throwed me off the property.”

Tennessee is beautiful, but man, we have some dumb ass people living in the woods.

On behalf of those who can string together a noun and a verb, I apologize to the world at large for the backwoods parts of the state of Tennessee.  Tennessee may be the Volunteer State, but I think we need to volunteer to teach everyone who lives here how to read before we do anything else.

Betty Crocker is a communist

Need I say more?

Woefully behind on posts from the lengthy December vacation which was followed by endless trials and whining clients, I decided I needed a chocolate infusion stat. Everyone knows that brownie batter is a cure for bad breakups, cancer and stress.  I have stress, therefore I need brownies, and pre-brownies in the form of brownie batter while I wait for brownies to bake.  Then I saw this on the box. “Fuck off Betty Crocker”, said Jean as she licked the spatula.

 

Fashion crisis: drown or look bad

Under the best of circumstances, clothing for active women with a substantial chest is difficult to find.  Flat-chested nymphs who wander the earth with six-pack abs doing yoga and prancing about in tiny sports bras can officially kiss my ass.  Those of us who tend more to the DD size range understand the trauma of shopping for sportswear and yes, tiny flat-chested women, we do hate you.

I kayak. Kayaking in certain conditions requires that anyone with a brain wear a lifejacket.

This is what the Coast Guard says I should wear.

Now let’s talk about Exhibit A, my boobs:

Seriously? This is supposed to pass as functional for a kayaker?

Sweet Jesus on a breadstick. It looks like I have taped a red backpack to my tits. I am not amused.

Thanks Lifejacket manufacturer. Now I can look like a giant slut because my boobs are squeezed upward by the foam packed into the jacket and strapped tightly to my ribs.

I won’t drown, but I look like the fucking stay-puft marshallow man in red.

An Open Letter to the State of Missouri

Dear State of Missouri,

Because my extended family lives in Kansas and I live in Tennessee, I am routinely forced to drive through your state.  I have always loathed this drive because  your roads are poorly designed, heavily-trafficked and generally awful. This year, though, you outdid yourself. The plan you had to control the masses driving through your state on I-70 was sheer diabolical genius. Stationing highway patrolmen every 8 miles in the median was a fabulous way to utterly fuck up traffic. The speed limit in your state is 70 miles per hour, but I doubt I made it much over 55 all the way through because every time the very heavy stream of traffic would approach the actual speed limit en masse, your highway patrol cars in the median would be spotted and my fellow drivers would panic and slam on the brakes, creating a chain reaction fuck up that would only clear up 8 miles further down the road. This hellish cycle repeated every 8 miles in an endless Groundhog-day-style loop. Instead of the three and a half hours it typically takes to drive from Saint Louis to Kansas City, you held me an unwilling captive for six long hours.

I was presented with some “fun facts” about Missouri at one of their rest stops which presumably exist to give you hope that you may someday get out of Missouri. Tourist bureau, you might want to edit your tourist information:

  1. Missouri is known as the “Show Me State”. Yes, show me how to get the hell out of this state as fast as possible.
  2. The ‘Show Me State’ expression may have begun in 1899 when Congressman Willard Duncan Vandiver stated, “I’m from Missouri and you’ve got to show me.” You’ve got to show me how to get out of this state.
  3. The first successful parachute jump to be made from a moving airplane was made by Captain Berry at St. Louis, in 1912. Even flying over the state leaves you suicidal.
  4. The most destructive tornado on record occurred in Annapolis. In 3 hours, it tore through the town on March 18, 1925 leaving a 980-foot wide trail of demolished buildings, uprooted trees, and overturned cars. It left 823 people dead and almost 3,000 injured. Nature abhors Missouri.
  5. Josephine Baker was born in Missouri. And promptly ran screaming to Paris to get out of Missouri.
  6. The first Capitol in Jefferson City burned in 1837 and a second structure completed in 1840 burned when the dome was struck by lightning on February 5, 1911. I think someone is trying to tell you something.
  7. Creve Coeur’s name means broken heart in French, comes from nearby Creve Coeur Lake. Legend has it that an Indian princess fell in love with a French fur trapper, but the love was not returned. According to the story, she then leapt from a ledge overlooking Creve Coeur Lake; the lake then formed itself into a broken heart. Because she was trapped for eternity in Missouri.
  8. The most powerful earthquake to strike the United States occurred in 1811, centered in New Madrid, Missouri. The quake shook more than one million square miles, and was felt as far as 1,000 miles away. Hello, Missouri, the planet wants you to go away.
  9. Anheuser-Busch brewery in St. Louis, Missouri is the largest beer producing plant in the nation. If you lived in Missouri, you’d need buckets of beer to tolerate it, too.
 I never thought I’d be so happy to see this sign:

75 mph speed limit and 100% less annoying.

Suck it Missouri. Kansas is a much better state, Gov. Brownback lunacy notwithstanding.

A note to our esteemed friends at the Fish and Wildlife: mountain lions are alive and well here

Earlier this year, our friends at the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service declared eastern mountain lions extinct.  Across Tennessee, we all laughed. Here in heavily populated middle Tennessee in the suburbs of Nashville, we all know someone who knows someone who has seen a mountain lion. Some of us have seen them ourselves.  This poor dog came in to rescue with Big Fluffy Dog Rescue after a very clear mountain lion attack and she took the worst of it defending her flock:

Athena after her tangle with a mountain lion

Still, after all the sightings and all the evidence (puncture and slash marks on Athena, tracks, etc), the Fish and Wildlife people said there are no mountain lions here.  I wonder how they will explain this:

Oversized house cat hit on Hwy 109 near Gallatin TN on Tuesday, October 11

I think we’re going to need more catnip.

Note: Athena was attacked in 2008. She’s fine now and living large as a house pet. The picture needs proper attribution as I did not take it, but I am not sure who did. Suffice it to say, it’s not me, but the original can be found here.

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