Have you seen this guy?

Apparently the Texas Game Warden wants to know. Is it because he has flowers on his shirt and looks ever so happy with Amanda's bridal bouquet in front of him while waiting for burgers at the Chicken Oil Company the day after Amanda's wedding? No...it has nothing to do with that - I just couldn't resist posting this picture.

Let me explain. We spent Memorial weekend at the lake with family and friends. It was a great weekend of boating, beer, margaritas, sun, and good food. Saturday afternoon, after we ate dinner, we went back out on the water to squeeze out every last moment of daylight, taking the boat and the two jet skis. It was too rough for skiing or wakeboarding, so we anchored on the opposite side of the lake to swim for a while. We cut it a bit close on our return trip to the house...the jet skis are not legal on the water at all after sunset; boats can be out as long as they are properly lit. As we were leisurely making our way from the south end of the lake back to our house, ScottE (Amanda's Scott) and I were each driving a jet ski and everyone else was in the boat which was driven by my dad. We had JUST been discussing whether we thought that we would see the game warden out since it was a holiday weekend, and had concluded that, yes, undoubtedly, we would be pulled over at some point - most likely to check for life jackets, registration and a fire extinguisher. We were about 5 minutes from our cove when out of the corner of my eye I saw what I thought was the game warden. I thought, "Shit! What are the rules for sunset? Is it the official sunset time? Is it 30 minutes before?" I didn't know exactly. So I kept driving, hoping that he would stay in the distance. The next thing I knew, I saw his flashing light as he pulled up behind the boat like a street cop to pull over my dad. At this point I assumed that the game warden would lecture my dad about not having the lights on and either give him a ticket or just ask him to turn them on. I did not want to wait around because after just a few minutes, I would certainly be illegal. Therefore, despite the fact that I never thought of myself as being one to run from the law, I did exactly that. What was the point of all three of us getting tickets if two of us could make it home in time? Luckily ScottE followed my lead. The water was rough, so we stood up on the jet skis and hauled ass across the lake to the cove. I knew there was no way that little aluminum boat would be able to catch up to us in the rough water.

We made our way into the cove and started idling back to the house. Assuming that we had outrun Smokey, I looked over my shoulder and noticed a boat that looked similar to the game warden's boat, except that it wasn't aluminum. However, it caught my eye. Then ScottE motioned over to it and said - that's them! How in the hell could Smokey have cut across the lake that fast? It must be a different one! So we gave the jet skis a little gas, still trying not to make a wake, until we reached the boathouse. Then we pulled them into the boathouse and tied them to the boat straps. Inside the boathouse, we were not visible to anyone approaching from the other end of the cove. We quietly climbed onto the dock and hid behind the wall as the perpetrator approached. As he passed the boathouse, we inched to the other side - staying out of his field of vision. It was then that I realized that the boat was not a game warden...it was just the people that were visiting our neighbors! I knew that wasn't a game warden's boat!

So ScottE and I moved the jetski's out of the boathouse and tied them up to the dock. Shortly after, the rest of the crew idled over to the boathouse. As my dad was pulling the boat into the slip, he started telling some outlandish story about how he was given a field sobriety test by this 20 year old (looking) game warden. Amanda was chiming in, too. One thing I've learned over the years is that my dad is a great story teller...it doesn't matter if the story is truth or fiction. He takes great pleasure in tricking people. Who else would have made up a story based on the lunar calendar, the history of the building of the dam at Lake LBJ, his imagination and a printed poster from America's Most Wanted to share one evening after dinner to a large group of fools drunk on pina coladas at Lake LBJ several years ago? (That legendary work of fiction is a prime example of Bob-Lore and deserves its own blog post.) I'm telling you, this man can come up with some crazy ideas...J.K. Rowling has nothing on him! And Amanda, well, she's a likely sidekick. It wasn't until Lanell, someone who I would not have pegged as a teller of tall tales, started confirming the details that I began to believe the story.

Apparently, the game warden was just doing his job - making sure that people aren't drunk-boating. I suspect that his name was Junior and that he was trying to impress his father, Buford T. Justice, who was waiting patiently back at the shore in between his attempts to catch the Bandit, although I have no way of confirming this. Junior asked if my dad had been drinking, to which my dad replied yes, but not since 4 o'clock. However, this young game warden decided that Bob Stolting was a shifty looking character (see picture above for an example of shiftiness.) He even commented about eyes being glazed over or some such nonsense. And so began the most ridiculous field sobriety test ever administered on a boat...or perhaps anywhere. Suspect Bob had to do the following:

• Touch his fingers to his thumb repeatedly counting up to four and then down to one, getting faster each time.
• Recite the alphabet from B to M.
• Count backwards...it was something like from 17 to 5.
• Follow a pen with his eyes without moving his head. Keep in mind that neither the game warden nor my dad were on solid ground. They were each in their own boat and were moving up and down and side to side separately. He did this for a full minute. I was told that the test was enough to make a sober person vomit. My dad, the alleged suspect, did not.
• FINALLY, take a breathalizer test, which registered almost nothing.

After hearing this, I asked if they felt like they were watching an episode of RENO 911, where the officer begins to choreograph a dance routine and asks the driver to repeat. I was certain that I was going to hear about a test that involved a kick ball change and a pirouette.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yDzcYerwE4s

The breathalizer was enough to convince Junior that Shifty Bob was just a normal guy driving his boat on the lake. And nothing was ever mentioned about sunset or the boat lights! The moral of this story is: if the game warden tries to administer a field sobriety test on the lake on a "no tolerance" weekend, just ask to go straight to the breathalizer and skip all the goofy kindergarten games.

We had a good laugh at this run-in with the law. We also had a great weekend. I finally found a water activity that I can do that Scott (my Scott) can't...wakeboarding! After many years skiing and slaloming, I tried wakeboarding for the first time last summer, but Scott wasn't with me when we learned, so this was his first attempt with us. Poor Scott is a slaloming fool, but he just couldn't get up on the wakeboard. The water was rough when he slalomed, but he still did well until the wipe out which was undoubtedly due to the choppy water that day.

Dan said he had not been skiing in 20 years...not bad!

I am still getting the hang of going in and out of the wake. It's totally different compared to a slalom.

ScottE's found his niche with wakeboarding. He did well going in and out of the wake and even kept us entertained with a wipe out at the end.

Amanda had no trouble last summer but for some reason this summer, she thought that she was supposed to dive off of the wakeboard. (Sorry, Amanda...I could not resist.)

One final note to the fishermen that we (and other skiers) pissed off by the dam Sunday and Monday mornings: You have 99,000 acres of lake to fish in. We have precious few areas to ski in as they must be stump free and smooth. If you insist on fishing in the calm stump free water by the dam on a holiday weekend, then you should expect to be disturbed by the boats pulling skiers. If you don't like it, then get your asses away from the dam!

I hope everyone had a great holiday weekend. As you return to your normal routine, remember to remain diligent in keeping the peace. Watch for unsavory characters such as the one featured in this post. You really have no idea what he is capable of.

The Danger of Apathy and Complacency

How much do you pay attention to the people who are serving in the United States government? The people who are supposed to be serving YOU? Probably not enough. Do you understand their motives, their history, or what drives them? We are all busy with our jobs, our families and our commitments, and I admit that it is difficult to stay informed about what is going on. But as citizens of the country, it is our obligation to be educated. I would go so far as to say that in not doing so, you risk the future of the country and your children. You may say, oh Jennifer, you are so melodramatic! I don't think so. If you take the time to learn about some of the people who have the ear of the President of our great country, it will be hard to deny that there is indeed a legitimate risk that exists.

Are you familiar with Kevin Jennings? He was appointed by Obama as the green jobs czar, but the appointment was highly controversial. This is primarily because of the fact that he is a self proclaimed Marxist and has a number of associations with Marxist/Communist groups. He has also openly identified with anarchists and signed a petition calling for nationwide resistance against police. Additionally, he accused George Bush of being responsible for the 9/11 attacks. Because of this controversy, he resigned his post shortly after his appointment. However, he is still advising the president and he is going to be speaking at an event that leaders of some major U.S. corporations will attend. I could write about how Obama himself has admittedly followed Marxist ideologies and point out that the whole concept of 'wealth distribution' (which he openly supports), is one of the primary concepts of socialism. But this was all clearly advertised to the world during his campaign and people chose to dismiss it or to not believe it. So instead I am going to try to drive the point home by illustrating the type of people that Obama turns to for advice. Kevin Jennings is just such a person.

Jennings was the founder of the communist group, STORM. A link to their manifesto is below. I did not read it all in detail but skimmed through parts of it. In it, he explains the fight for socialism and against capitalism, which he defines as a system of oppression. STORM was disbanded in 2002, but the ideology lives on in other organizations and through people such as Jennings. The purpose of groups such as this and the ideas discussed in the document are chilling. To say that they contradict the basic foundation of our country is an understatement. People need to educate themselves about these movements and understand that the people who identify with these philosophies are 'friends' with Obama. Keep these ideologies in mind when the idiots on the far left talk about raising taxes on the rich, taking control of health care, and passing cap and tax legislation. Each of these changes will represent another feather in the cap for the marxists as it achieves wealth distribution and government control and takes us further and further away from democracy, liberty and capitalism.

http://web.archive.org/web/20070719020533/http://leftspot.com/blog/files/docs/STORMSummation.pdf

12 Days of Christmas - Golden style

Here's a little jingle I came up with yesterday morning on my drive into work - the Golden version of The Twelve Days of Christmas, inspired by Richie:

On the first day of Christmas, my Golden gave to me
A pile of vomit on my brand new rug

On the second day of Christmas, my Golden gave to me
Two chewed up houseshoes
And a pile of vomit on my brand new rug

On the third day of Christmas, my Golden gave to me
Three trampled flowerbeds
Two chewed up houseshoes
And a pile of vomit on my brand new rug

On the fourth day of Christmas, my Golden gave to me
Four muddy paws
Three trampled flowerbeds
Two chewed up houseshoes
And a pile of vomit on my brand new rug

On the fifth day of Christmas, my Golden gave to me
Five tennis balls.....
Four muddy paws
Three trampled flowerbeds
Two chewed up houseshoes
And a pile of vomit on my brand new rug

On the sixth day of Christmas, my Golden gave to me
Six hundred dollar vet bill
Five tennis balls.....
Four muddy paws
Three trampled flowerbeds
Two chewed up houseshoes
And a pile of vomit on my brand new rug

On the seventh day of Christmas, my Golden gave to me
Seven hours of swimming
Six hundred dollar vet bill
Five tennis balls.....
Four muddy paws
Three trampled flowerbeds
Two chewed up houseshoes
And a pile of vomit on my brand new rug

On the eighth day of Christmas, my Golden gave to me
Eight attempted squirrel murders
Seven hours of swimming
Six hundred dollar vet bill
Five tennis balls.....
Four muddy paws
Three trampled flowerbeds
Two chewed up houseshoes
And a pile of vomit on my brand new rug

On the ninth day of Christmas, my Golden gave to me
Nine shredded socks
Eight attempted squirrel murders
Seven hours of swimming
Six hundred dollar vet bill
Five tennis balls.....
Four muddy paws
Three trampled flowerbeds
Two chewed up houseshoes
And a pile of vomit on my brand new rug

On the tenth day of Christmas, my Golden gave to me
Ten lobotomized teddy bears
Nine shredded socks
Eight attempted squirrel murders
Seven hours of swimming
Six hundred dollar vet bill
Five tennis balls.....
Four muddy paws
Three trampled flowerbeds
Two chewed up houseshoes
And a pile of vomit on my brand new rug

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my Golden gave to me
Eleven broken ornaments
Ten lobotomized teddy bears
Nine shredded socks
Eight attempted squirrel murders
Seven hours of swimming
Six hundred dollar vet bill
Five tennis balls.....
Four muddy paws
Three trampled flowerbeds
Two chewed up houseshoes
And a pile of vomit on my brand new rug

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my Golden gave to me
Twelve mounds of dog hair
Eleven broken ornaments
Ten lobotomized teddy bears
Nine shredded socks
Eight attempted squirrel murders
Seven hours of swimming
Six hundred dollar vet bill
Five tennis balls.....
Four muddy paws
Three trampled flowerbeds
Two chewed up houseshoes
And a pile of vomit on my brand new rug

Howdy to 85 Year Old Jen

So, I've always been intrigued by blogging. There are no rules governing what you can write about or how you write it. You don't have an English teacher looking over your shoulder telling you that this sentence is a run on or that one is a fragment. You can be as completely random as you want. It can be about something...or nothing, like Seinfeld. You can be deep...or shallow; serious or funny; joyful or melancholy.

All of this is great, but here's why I wanted to start blogging. First let me ask you this: Have you ever looked back on your life, say a few (or many) years ago like in college or high school, and felt like your memories were foggy? As if you can remember going to this event or party with this person or that person, but you can't remember what really happened? And no I'm not referring to an alcohol-induced fog. I'm referring to the fog that begins to cloud your memory as more time passes. I'm only 35...if I feel this foggy about things now, then what hope is there for me when I am 85? I'll be lucky if I can remember whether or not I've changed my Depends undergarments. I've realized recently that I should have kept a journal. Well, I had a journal in elementary school. It was incredibly profound. Every day I wrote about what we had for dinner. I think I would also write about playing My Little Ponies or what book I was reading (I read all the time when I was little.) But the really good stuff was never contained in a journal. Maybe that's best since there is no documentation that could be subpoenaed in the event of an incriminating historical incident. Nevertheless, I think it would be fascinating when I am 85 and have an empty slate for a memory to re-live my life vicariously through my journals. Add to this the fact that one of my aspirations in my younger years was to be a writer. So I figured if I start blogging, I can get my thoughts down and it will substitute for a journal of sorts. Maybe no one will read it, or maybe it will be boring, but when I am 85 and reacquainting myself with the thirty-something Jennifer, will I really care? Hell, I won't even know who my friends were by then. And if I do remember them, I'll probably be pissed off at them because aren't old people always mad about something?

This is why I wanted to blog. I did it...my first post. It was just as boring and pointless as I thought it could be. And I bet I've already managed to piss off my 85 year old self.

A Great Christmas Gift!

What do you want for Christmas? Some games for your Wii, a computer, movies? What about something that is not quite so tangible? Sometimes those are the best gifts. That is kind of gift that I am getting this year: My two foster puppies are getting a forever home. While this is a tangible gift to them and to the family that is adopting them, it is also a Christmas wish that has been answered for me.

Three months ago, this was not my Christmas wish. In fact, I didn't know about these puppies three months ago. But it all started one fateful day in September. That's when I arrived with my family at my parents’ house in Livingston and happened upon two curious, yet timid puppies who were roaming about. After earning their trust, we began to feed them and tend to them.

We found out that these four month old puppies had been dumped days before. They ate as if they didn’t know when their next meal would come; their stomachs were bloated from malnutrition; and they were infested with fleas. Despite all of this, this male and female pair was sweet and loving. We spent the weekend caring for them and I tried my best to find a rescue group to take them. Sadly, rescue groups and shelters are currently overwhelmed, so this proved to be a challenging task. We finally found a rescue group in East Texas that arranged for a shelter in Houston to take them, so we loaded up the pups Sunday afternoon with the plan to drop them off Monday. We thought we’d say good-bye and that they would soon be placed in good forever homes. It was not that easy.

It turns out that they were going to euthanize the female because of a bump on her leg that was identified as a fungus. This is easily treatable, but also contagious, and the shelter has neither the time nor the resources to commit to any treatment, regardless of how simple. We found ourselves in a situation where we would either have to foster them or leave them there knowing that the female would be put down. There was only one solution – we would foster. We also had to name them - so they became Bella and Buddy.

I could not have fostered them by myself - my mom fostered in the beginning and then after I took over, she helped me by keeping them when I was out of town and letting them out during days when I was working long hours. We also had to load them up in the car with us one weekend when we all left town to go back up to the lake. Somehow, even though we weren't set up for this, we made it work. It was difficult, but I did enjoy having them and watching as they got healthy and socialized.

Bella and Buddy will spend a couple more weeks with me. The nice lady who is adopting them lives on three acres which are completely fenced in and secure. She and her husband have three kids who have wanted to open their hearts to a dog for years. Finally, mom decided that the time is right. She has already paid the adoption fee and will pick them up on Dec. 20th. They will stay at her in-laws during that week. Her in-laws will bring them over to their house Christmas morning to surprise the kids.

I don't know who I am more excited for: the kids or the puppies! Saying good-bye to them will be bittersweet. Taking care of them has been challenging and tiring, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't love them. I don't think that it is farewell though - I offered to dogsit for them should the opportunity arise.

So this Christmas gift is not just a gift for three lucky kids...it is a gift of lifelong companionship for the entire family; a gift of a safe and loving home for two scared puppies that were left for dead through no fault of their own; and it is the best Christmas gift I could ask for because I know that these sweet pups will be loved and cared for throughout their lives. I may not remember the book that I got for Christmas in 2007, or the DVD's I got for my birthday in 2008, but I will always remember the Christmas gift of 2009.

Merry Christmas Bella and Buddy!