AS I SEE IT...

Oh, this days chores, too much to do, too

Laundry
Dishes
Sweep
Mop
all the usually things I have to do.

But this day marks two days before I leave my comfort zone to go to Bethleham, PA to meet friends I've known a while, but never seen or heard their voice or laughter.

I am so accustomed to my daily solitary existance, and my routine of having coffee with my husband before he goes off to work, and then spending the rest of the day being a house mouse.

Yep, I called myself a "House Mouse". That is the best way I can think to describe what I do. I no longer work outside the home, and haven't been able to for years. I teach knitting, sewing, crochet, scrapbooking, and various other arts & crafts projects to a varity of every changing people, who come and go at their leisure... and in between my clients and customers, I troll around Writing.Com.

Between all of that I sip coffee, plan and cook meals, and generally wait for my best friend, my husband, to come home from work.

When I do venture out, it is mostly to mail packages to my son in Iraq, pay local utility bills, and grocery shop.

The older I get the more set in my ways I find myself being. Comfortably settling into a routine. The spontanaity that once was the hallmark of my life is pretty much gone. Life is more settled now, more predictable, and more comfortable.

I was once very ambitious, as I was once young and healthy, now I am more resigned to just staying alive and as well as possible.

I am a watcher, an observer, but I have almost lost interest in that, as people are becomming more predictable than ever. Seems far too many seem to be struggling finacially, emotionally, and physically.

I have noticed that alot of women are wearing fashionable clothes to do even the most mundane of chores. Women are wearing more skirts made of attractive, light, breezy fabrics, while their young daughters are wearing very short, very tacky, very unflattering skirts. I contribute these young pre-teen fashions trends to the influence of the current stars in the music industry, but I could be wrong.

At the moment, I am feeling a bit over-whelmed. My kitchen is a diaster area, as is my dining room table, and craft room. I have too much mail to sort through, and most of it is trash, I guess.

By choice, getting ready to attend the 2005 Writing.Com Convention has taken up most of my time lately.

Regardless, at least with this blog entry I won't be getting one of those annoying "Update Your Blog" e-mails. Thank God, and yes, I know I could turn off the reminder, but then if I am not prodded into blogging I might just NOT.

I'd almost find this funny if it was not so annoying, but the one thing I am having trouble finding is books of matches. I certainly don't want to give the idiot Atlanta airport security screeners a reason to piss me off with their stupid security proceedures. The type of people that take that low paying job have issues about their own self-importance. They are dillusional at best, thinking that their "Oh so obvious" searches of everyday American citizens is doing anything to protect anyone from anything.

Case in Point, the following is an experience a soldier's wife recently at the Atlanta airport when she was bringing her husband to his flight back to Iraq:


I had to drop my husband off today at the Atlanta airport and I wanted to warn any of you going through there about something so nobody else has to deal with this. When we were going through the metal detectors I kept setting it off.

No big deal right?

Well it definetly turned into one for me! They took me off to this glass cage thing and then I had to do all the stupid stuff with taking my shoes off and such.

A little annoying but not that big of a deal. Because it was taking a few minutes and they were trying to make my husband, and my dad and kids move on with out me, my ARMY husband comes over to tell me where they'll be at. This guy steps between us and tells him he can't speak to me, or be near me while they're "handling" me.

So then I start getting mad.

Then I have this lady doing the thing with the wand, and it became apparent it was my underwire bra that set off the alarms and I think common sense is about to prevail and they'll let me go on my way.

But no.. She tells me that I can be searched there or they can take me to a private room cause they're about to really search me! So I tell her that it's obviously the bra and she should know b/c when the wand beeped she'd had to feel that area. I told her I'd take it off and let her check it and then I'd be on my way. So since it was a strapless I popped that thing off, threw it on the desk and told her to check it and let me leave. They acted like I'd thrown a bomb on that desk! I was even told that b/c I'd removed it they couldn't tell if what had beeped would still be there! AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!! I am so infuriated that they had me in a glass cage, take off half my clothes, treat me like a criminal in front of my husband, my kids, my dad and a whole lot of strangers and all while I'm there dropping my husband off to go back to some crappy country to fight some dirty terrorists that they'd never check like that cause they don't want to profile people! So ladies whatever you do don't wear an underwire b/c they WILL find it cause the security is that good (little sarcasm there)

Let me explain something else... our soldiers are required to treat Iraqi women with more respect that TSA screeners treat Americans in general. Huh? Oh yes...

and another thing that proves all that security stuff is a dog and pony show... a sucide bomber would certainly blow himself up, right along with the security screeners and other passengers that they so foolishly require to stand in line all bunched up before a sucide bomber would submit to a search. duh... yea thats safe.

I'm still thinking I should have drove.

Then again the soldier's wife that reported the above incident at the Atlanta airport is young and attractive... I am old and fat... so maybe some sicko security screeners just get their jollies searching pretty young American wifes of Army soldiers.