I do not have blue hair....

I am blonde.

Ok, ok....I was naturally blonde as a child. Then it turned crappyoldbrowndishwater color.

Now...I am blonde. My hair is not blue.

Yet, when in Michigan this past weekend I started to feel like a little old woman with blue hair driving on the interstate and I was driving my Jeep about 75 mph (the speed limit is 70...Ok, so I was speeding...tell that to the cars that passed me at about 90 mph - including two Michigan State Police cars with NO lights flashing...).

No, I don't drive mega fast. I want to get there alive thankyouverymuch. And, I don't drive in the left lane unless I am passing someone. But I feel like some little old fart out for a Sunday drive when I am in that state.

I have friends who live in Michigan that hate, absolutely HATE to drive through Ohio (that's where I live...see...it says so over ---->). Yes, we have lots and lots of state cops sitting and hiding all over the place. (I counted 10 between Dayton and the Michigan border this past Friday night...150 miles according to Google Maps). So, with that many cops hanging around on the interstate you learn to drive the speed limit (and you also learn where all the highway patrol posts are, but that's a whole other story).

My son says I need to learn to drive like Michiganders (is that a word?) do. I lived there once....long long ago, in a galaxy far far...wait...wrong story....long ago. Didn't drive that way then, don't drive like that now. And, I can imagine that people from Michigan hate the way us Ohioans drive.

That's why I let my son drive all weekend :)

Logging in for love???

And what is so new about that??

I'm not sure if you've seen it, but TLC has a new show about people looking for love online. It's about 11 women and their search...

Ok, this isn't new. Trust me. It's how I met the roomie 7-1/2 yrs. ago.

Actually, I met a lot of guys from online. My friend and I sat on the phone one night while we wrote our personals. We had one hell of a good time laughing and writing.

And I had 40something responses within two days. I was shocked to say the least. And I had fun.

Ohhhh some of the emails I received were an experience. Married men looking for fun (but..but...we don't sleep together anymore!), single men with teenagers who needed someone to pick up after them (yellow pages guy...under Molly Maids)...and then there were the ones with no pictures (which is fine) and would describe themselves....

ahem....

One such experience...I was chatting with this guy online from Columbus (about 60 miles east of here), he was going to be coming through town so we decided to have dinner. I talked to him on the phone, and he seemed nice enough... He tells me he is 5'10" (I'm 5'7"), brown hair, glasses.

That night, up pulls a MINI VAN (bad sign #1) (ok, I think...he's married). I hear a knock on the door. I open it and I KNOW he has to notice the look on my face (terror?)...

He is maybe 5'4" tall...Hair? WHERE???????? ohwait, there's one there, oh, and one over there, oh and a few long ones combed over there (and I do mean FEW). Brown? Maybe a long time ago they were... Oh, and I wont talk about the big hair growing on the top of his nose...

Ok, so I was a nice person and didn't come up with an excuse not to go. We went to a small steak house about 10 miles from the house. (Did I mention he didn't smoke (I do - he knew this) and his mini van smelled like vicks vaporub? My sinus' were clear all night.) I agreed to sit in the nonsmoking section, ordered a cheap steak (as he was counting his money when we sat down and had not even ordered yet.) No desert, no sour cream on the potato....the salad came with the meal.

We sat there in silence most of the time. I couldn't say anything. Honestly I was afraid I would run screaming from the restaurant or die laughing. I wasn't sure which. Oh, he was saying all kinds of nice things to me, I looked nice, etc. He wanted to go someplace after - I said no, it was a school night and had to get home to my son.

He took me home and thankgod in my driveway was my son, his best friend Adam and a few other friends were washing Adams jeep in my driveway (they had been out playing in the corn fields around the house.) I got out of the van quickly (I didn't want to have to even hug this man let alone kiss him goodnite.) I looked at my son, who was ready to laugh his ass off and mouthed "save me"...he grinned real big and said "Mom, I need to talk to you real bad, I think we got in trouble tonight".

With that, a look of horror came across the guys face and he said his goodbye and so did I. He got in his van and left fast.

I stood there and hugged the hell out of my son and Adam who had a great laugh at me.

My son still teases me about that guy.

So TLC...I could write you stories. Trust me on that one.

You are installing what????

Banging...crashing....hammering...

What the hell is he doing now?

I had to investigate.

There he was, the roomie, installing a burglar alarm system (its what he does for a living).

In this house?

The house with walls literally falling apart? The house where the door is never locked?

The house that any burglar with half a mind would run screaming from after he broke in? (laughing or crying...not sure which they would be doing)

Ok, so no one will be able to steal my computer. That's great. Thank you roomie.

But...I kinda sorta wish someone would steal the living room set. It's beige, green and maroon forgodssake. Yes, before anyone comments, he paid for it - not me. So, according to a past commenter I shouldn't say anything. But I live here too. And it's ugly, it's just plain ugly.

Maybe, just maybe, we can go out one night and forget to turn the alarm on. We can call the police when we get back and say someone broke in...

Ohgod! They ripped the tiles off the bathroom wall!! Ohlord! They halfway installed drywall on the ceiling in the kitchen! Ohno! They ripped the framing off around the back door! And they peeled the floor tile up in the corner of the kitchen! (Damn! They left the red, white and blue shag carpet in the bathroom!!)

So, if you are ever driving down a road and see a flashing arrow - big red arrow - pointing toward a house with a sign on the porch saying "OPEN" - please come in. Come in and take the damned sofa and love seat. It's yours.

Please...

Big Time Wrestling!

Last night during an after dinner conversation with friends, someone brought up wrestling.

ohgoodgod...

Let me take you back in time...back - back - no, a little further. Back to the early 70's...Dayton, OH...Hara Arena.

Big Time Wrestling.

My Mom is a small Greek woman. At the time she was about as round as she was tall. A wonderful mother and wife.

And she loved - no - loves wrestling. In all it's glory.

She had reserved front row seats every two weeks.

The ones in the front row where the wrestlers came out to get in the ring. Those. In front of God and everyone.

And I had to take her.

She would cheer, the wrestlers would get her riled up so that she would then get the crowd all riled up. She would curse like a sailor (and you wondered where I got it...ha!).

One time, as Ben Justice was being carried out on a stretcher, this little 5'3" woman jumps up - dumps him off the stretcher onto the floor! He turns over, looks at her and smiles - and ran back to the freaking ring! The crowd went nuts! The producers were going beserk!

And she stood there smiling from ear to ear!

She actually had people ask her for her autograph. The wrestlers would come out and talk to her (us) when it was over.

And security walked us to our car.

It's not the same these days. Wrestling just isn't the same. But she would still love to go.

I just wonder who she would dump off a stretcher these days.

Ya gotta love her.