The Shot

So, was it a random shot or an intentional 'warning'?

Several weeks ago my father began noticing strange little markings;


a weird scratch in the truck...







a very strange mark in the drywall of the garage...

Today he found the bullet hole...

Yup, a clear shot right through the garage door that hit the truck, then went on to tear through the drywall in the garage and jam into, most likely, a stud.

My father, who has been around guns his whole life, is sure that this is no random shot. It is clearly a direct shot from, likely, a handgun. No stray ricocheted bullet; no hunter mistaking our garage door for a deer.

Someone who wanted to send out a clear message:

Stop talking.

Based upon what we can figure, the shot was likely fired on October 14. The same day, coincidentally, that all three of us were participating in a preliminary trial for our contested case hearing against Tenasty. No one was home, a rare occasion around here. We don't leave the house vacant for this very reason...we are afraid some nutcase will do something drastic.

Whether it is a pro-Tenasty being or not, we may never know. My hunch says it is. They want us to shut up, and left a clear message attesting to just that. We are likely on their 'most wanted' list; I am always plastered all over every newspaper and news station around, alerting the public to their (Tenasty's) true pollution potentials; my testimony on that October day allowed for the Environmental Defense Fund to defend our cause, my mother's allowed for the Sierra Club; that same morning a front-page article in the local paper was riddled with quotes from my father.

We speak out a lot, and 'they' know it.

Speaking out for what one believes can be a dangerous business, especially when so much money is at stake. The coal industry is powerful and ruthless, as are many of the supporters in the Sweetwater area. That we 'dare' to disagree is extremely brave on our parts.

What makes me laugh is the fact that Texans are supposed to be so free, so individualistic, such warriors in a government-run country. They are the people who speak up for their rights, their beliefs...

right?

Well, until those rights and beliefs disagree with some 'powerful' being's. Very few people in the town are willing to speak out. They are terrified.

So what happened to that 'Wild West' spirit of Texas and it's want for secession and freedom?

It's a joke.

I'm not even from the state and, based upon all of this garbage, would love to leave and never return. This considered, I am the one fighting to protect the land, the air, the water and the rights of the people. Me, an 'elitist' New Englander. I honestly could not care less about this backwards state and its wacked out people. But I still fight for it. They work to destroy it, and they are from here.

Go figure.

Thursday the 3rd of December is our next public hearing, this time in Abilene. I wasn't going to go. I'm worn out and over this entire issue. But the 'discovery' today has made me want to go again....has made me want to continue fighting.

Your 'warning' back-fired, buddy. Now you've got me even more riled up.

Adventures in Mitchell County

Okay....perhaps the usage of 'adventure' in this instance is a bit inappropriate. It just really sounds good in the title.

The only activities that could potentially lead to any sort of 'adventures' in Mitchell County, Texas would involve:


the tipping of one of these..........................



Or the riding of one of these.....................................

Admittedly, I have failed to partake in either activity. Yet. In my quest to find something, anything to do on my 'work days', it may come to that.

I arrived in Colorado City at 9:30 am, and, yet again, no one showed up for the tests that I am required to administer. Crap, I thought. Now what do I do all day?

From the picture to your left, you can see that my day was spent 'working' really hard. I drove all over the County, just hoping that I would come across something that I could tape a census poster to.

When this mission failed tremendously....

I acted as tourist....at least I learned some oil history.

In retrospect, I guess I could have taped a sign or two to some cows....

Road signs pointed me towards the town of Cuthbert....but it took me ages to actually find the place. In the end, it was a dead end. Literally.

Yeah, Cuthbert is a graveyard. I figured that promoting the census jobs or hanging a poster there would end up a....dead issue....

So I drove. And drove. And drove. There is A LOT of nothing in these parts of Texas....

But cotton....

And this nice couch.....

In the middle of nowhere.

About to lose my mind, I decided to use my time wisely and walk a few laps around the local track. In training we were warned that we may need, at times, to run. You know, from people with guns or killer dogs...typical stuff. So, walking the track provided me with some needed strength training for the job, right?

I can only hope that you were able to live vicariously through my Mitchell County experience.

Make the most of each day....make fun of it if you have to!

Ignorance is Bliss

Oh, how I long for the 'good ole days' when I was too young to care about the world around me, the corrupt politics that run our country or the woes of everyday life. Remember those days when nothing mattered but who you would play with at recess or how you scored on a spelling test? When summer days were spent exploring and subsequent nights playing soccer with your peers? And what about the games of tag and hide-and-seek and the endless bike-rides through town....

Those were the days, weren't they?

Oftentimes I wish I could return to that blissful state of pure, innocent ignorance.

Life was so much easier. Perhaps it felt rough at the time---passing that social studies test would require significant effort, or doing 20 situps in P.E. might strain some under-used muscles---but the older I get the more I wish I could just....ignore everything around me.

And some people certainly can. There are those who couldn't care less about who is voted in as President or who represents them at a local level. They don't care about retirement funds, bank accounts or financing a new home. They couldn't locate Iraq on a map if paid to do so, and really don't care that we are engaged in a worthless, tiresome war. They live in their own little dream state, ignorant of everything around them.

But are they so wrong?

I despise watching the news or reading the paper. Rare is the day that anything positive makes its way into our media archives. Riddled with death, destruction, corruption, murder, abductions and political fights...news stations and newspapers are essentially the annals of doom.

And perhaps it is the conspiracy-theorist inside me, but I have to question whether our votes really count, City Hall actually can be fought and whether doctors are actually out to kill us rather than heal us.

All the questions, the cares, the worries, the fights and the voting. Do they really matter in the end?

Perhaps returning to that ignorant state, careless and carefree, would do us all some good once in a while. In the deep confines of the Alaskan arctic, where news of any sort comes late--if at all--I found myself feeling my absolute best. If I wanted to seek out the latest buzz I could certainly head to an online news source. But it took effort on my part; it wasn't constantly all around me. Was it the overall ignorance of the world's happenings that contributed to my feelings of absolute health?

Likely.

Ignorance can certainly render bliss...and 'blissful' is an adjective that I feel we all need to embrace more often.

Building on my Quiet Strength

I am a very quiet person.

Always have been; likely always will be.

Finally, I read a book that allows me to feel good about my quiet nature.

Just yesterday I finished The Introverted Leader: Building on your Quiet Strength, a book that I had been waiting all summer to get my hands on. I knew, based upon the reviews and synopsis, that it would suit me perfectly. It does.

I have always been tormented for being quiet, and continue to be to this very day. We live in an extroverted world, where relationships (both personal and business) are built upon being loud, rowdy, going out for drinks or going to the club. I am not a drinker, a clubber, nor loud--as I have established. Therefore, building relationships of any kind is extremely difficult for me.

It isn't easy being quiet. In school you are picked on and called inappropriate names. I actually did have a classmate who, rather than learn my name, referred to me as "smart girl". I can still picture one moment when he continually called me, hoping to garner the answer to an assignment question, and I--being who I am--blatantly ignored him. I have a name and it is not 'smart girl'.

In high school people thought I was mean or that I never did anything but homework. It is as if they pictured me buried in a pile of paperwork, deep down in some dreary basement...doing nothing but playing with calculators and chemistry sets all day. Just because I am quiet?

Huh?

As I grow older, many of the annoyances of my peers are disappearing. I no longer (usually) have to hear about how small my boobs are or how round my butt is. People don't tend to care about my choice of clothing or desired hobbies. But people still care that I am soft spoken. I get comments all the time, and can never figure out what the big issue really is.

I think that the loud, extroverted people of the world just fail to understand us mere introverts. We are seen as weak and boring; uninteresting and snobbish. I fail to see any of those traits in myself, or in any other introverts that I know.

We are so misunderstood.

And what a shame it is. Really. We quiet ones are listeners, thinkers and highly intelligent. Not that I am boasting on my brain power, but it is a proven fact. Those who speak less are generally far more intelligent than those who can't shut up. We tend to take in all the details, run them through our heads a thousand times....and then finally come up with an answer or opinion that is well thought out, detailed and intense.

It's called thinking before you speak...and potentially make a complete fool of yourself.

I always feel as though others think I am a complete idiot. In big groups I rarely speak up; freak encounters are very uncomfortable for me; meeting new people is difficult. But society has decided that if you don't speak up, don't make your presence known and dominate a conversation, you are clearly too stupid to care, too snobby to participate or absolutely uninterested in anything that anyone has to offer. Quite the opposite.

As I have already suggested, us quiet folks like to listen and digest. Speak to one of us and every word of your monologue will be heard. Trust me. We are some of the best listeners out there. And we care. I have always prided myself on the fact that anyone could tell me their deepest, darkest secret and it would never escape my lips. The opinions requested in regards to said secret would be genuine and true. The advice, as clear and absolute as possible.

We are hard to get to know, I will admit that outright. I, for one, rarely divulge many facts about myself or personal life. I know people notice and I know it annoys them. I had one person tell me that our friendship was 'one sided'. But to me, it is one's own choice what they choose to discuss with others. If you choose to let loose and tell me all of the family dirt....well, that is your choice. Don't expect me to do the same. Especially since I have little to no dirt to expose.

It doesn't make me any lesser of a friend, does it?

Thanks to Dr. Kahnweiler (author of the book) I can begin to work on becoming more of a respected presence in any situation. It is an acquired skill, not one that comes easily to any introvert. It takes much practice, believe it or not.

I oftentimes watch my extroverted peers who can walk into a room, join a conversation and become the life of the party....poof....just like that. People respect them, listen to them and laugh at their jokes. They look 100% comfortable with the situation at hand and act as pros in a competitive game.

I oftentimes wish that I could be like that....

And perhaps one day I will....

But it means a change in who I am and what makes me me.

Is it worth it?

Doubtful.

Let others appreciate me for who I am. Quiet personality and all.

Working Girl

No, I'm not working the corner of 5th and Elm in Sweetwater or walking the streets of Abilene's downtown. I haven't headed over to the strip club in Tye yet, either.

Although...it may be more fun than what I am doing now.

Instead...

I am working with the 2010 Census.

Let me tell you...there are those of us who can successfully work for the government. Then there are people like me.

Good thing it is a two-month gig and nothing more.

Gosh---it is so ridiculous. They are paying me to...do...nothing. And the pay isn't exactly shabby either. I get $.55 per mile driven alone.....and out in the middle of nowhere parts of West Texas...well, that can add up really fast.

Today was only my second official day out of training. I was sent to Sweetwater to conduct testing sessions. No one showed up. No one showed up yesterday, either, when I tacked on 120 miles to administer these same tests that have yet to be attended. Tomorrow I head even further into the far reaches of nowhere...and I am guessing the trend will continue. I'll let you know.

So, you ask...what is SO BAD about this picture? You are getting paid to drive around with the radio blasting; your pay-day starts from the moment to plunk down into the driver's seat; you have yet to do any real work.....sounds great, right?!

Perhaps. But I am not the type who can pretend to work then boast about how much I did all day. I saw way too much of this up in Alaska working with an Interagency conglomeration of governmental entities. Rare was the day that much actually got done. Oftentimes was the spending of money so gross that I wanted to scream.

And here I am again. I am in the middle of what I hate. Utilizing precious tax-payers' money to lounge around and pretend to be doing something.

Okay, yesterday I managed to keep myself really busy. I spent hours driving around a little town in the middle of nowhere, hanging pro-census signs. My enthusiasm waned upon seeing the 'SECEDE' bumper stickers and pro-life propaganda everywhere. But I held my own and did the job. Of course, I have 8 more weeks of work to come up with and, frankly, I did it all yesterday.

No offense to anyone....but if I was a true government employee I would have turned my efforts yesterday into about....ehhh...three weeks' worth of 'work'.

Am I right?

But today, my second whole day, I couldn't take it, and found myself chit-chatting with friends and neighbors more than actually doing any work. Maybe it is because I was in Sweetwater, the epicenter of the Tenasty soap-opera, where I refuse to make contact with the people who are attempting to construct a chemical-laden death box in my backyard.

Instead, I sat around a pecan shelling business with an older couple also opposed to the coal plant. We laughed and joked, conspired and questioned. These two---probably in their late 60s---have lived here since day one. They know all the town secrets. What a hoot this afternoon was. Rare is the day that I meet people who I really feel comfortable around and feel that I can truly express my opinions to. Here they are. They are absolutely amazing people...

Then I headed over to my neighbor's barber shop. Nothing like kickin' back in a Texas barber shop. Let me tell ya....

So, my day was good...and I did the work they set me out to do. I hung signs and showed up to proctor the tests....but....

Maybe I realize that, since no one is going to show up to the tests anyways, why kill myself trying to 'spread the word'...?

Oh well. Guess I shouldn't complain. In the end, my short stint's earnings should cover the entirety of next semester's expenses and maybe even the following. Working for the government always looks good on a resume and my efforts will keep me busy through the holiday break.

(If I can hold on for 8 weeks. Gosh, I hate being bored.)

Plus, I turned down the SCA Internship that I was offered in Albuquerque today. Not for me. One of those decisions that you question for a while afterwards. Was it right? Wrong? Should I have gone and tried it out? I'll leave that door unopened....and hopefully find another one waiting to be unlocked, with ample opportunities on the other side.

Climbing the Hill...

Yep, it's official. I am in my fourth decade of life. Wow.

Yikes.

Neat.

Geesh.

True to my nature, I don't really care. Birthday's are okay, I guess, but it is just another day to me.

Everyone anticipates a mental breakdown on the big 3-0. Women especially.

But since I have zero desire for children, my biological clock can keep ticking.

And since I don't have much desire to be married anytime soon, well...

I'll just carry on as if nothing has changed.

I shouldn't be too upset. Last night as my parents carried on a conversation about me as though I wasn't sitting in the same room, my father mentioned that, "she could pass for 20, you know."

Hmmm...can't feel too shabby about a comment as such. I know I look young for my age, but a decade younger??? Okay with me. No arguments here.

I am also only 3 classes (less the two I am finishing up currently) from receiving my first Master's degree. I wanted to have such a degree by the time I was 30....mission accomplished (almost).

I have travelled to many far-off, exotic locales around the world, seen a good majority of the United States and participated in some pretty cool stuff in the past three decades.

I have also experienced some crazy stuff and learned lessons that are priceless. All of these experiences only add to who I currently am and who I will be in the future.

So why the big deal about turning 30? Most people I talk to say their 30's were the best years of their lives. It's when many people meet and fall in love; when good jobs are finally found and ample income earned; when we finally start to feel confident about who we are, stop caring about what others think, and take pride in what we represent and believe in.

I have spent a good majority of my life caring about what others think. I worry about my appearance, my body, my opinions, my clothes. Am I pretty enough, skinny enough, talkative enough? Do they think I am weird, or do they like me? And on and on. It's ridiculous and time consuming.

Who cares?

So, to my 30's: I hope you are filled with great memories and ample happiness. I hope you bring me smiles and joy, continued adventures and more friends. May I remain healthy and vibrant, carefree and caring.

And...well...

How about an unanticipated, large sum of money???

Kidding.

Sort-of.

On Candid Camera?

I dreaded the idea of yet another individual walking by and causing for the odor to follow the draft and penetrate my bubble of fresh scent. I couldn't devise any more crafty ways to pull my shirt over my nose or block my sniffing powers with delicate placement of fingers or hands.

There was no hiding my dismay.

Maybe that is why the instructor in my first Census Bureau training course had his nose to the notebook and was blasting through our modules. Every time he glanced at me I gave him a look---either one of despair or one with humor in my eyes.

I'm not trying to be mean. But, with the camping experience that I have and the many times that I have gone a full fourteen days sans shower---I know when I smell. I can smell myself.


So sitting behind perhaps the most despicably smelling being that I have ever encountered for a full day was...........rough.

Wow. If this guy couldn't smell himself, then I suggest he go to an ear, nose and throat specialist for evaluation.

And leave it to me to be sitting directly behind him. With each passing trainer, the smell was carried in their draft...straight back to me. With every movement he made the stench grew stronger. I had a headache all day. I was in a state of 100% pure misery.

Then there was the loud fart he let out. And the huge belch. No qualms about it. Just let 'er rip. Full force.

Our decency and professionalism worn thin, the instructors and I could no longer hide our complete disdain. They would walk by holding their breaths, or display sour-puckered-pickle faces upon catching a sniff. I spent the last half of the day getting creative with my shirt, my jacket and even my hair---anything to mask the smell and protect my poor nose from the funk.

I would occasionally start laughing. I couldn't help it. Again, its not out of disrespect or meanness. I've smelled rank before too. But I wasn't attending my first (or any) day of work at a new job.

It's moments like these that make me stop and wonder if it was all a joke. Was I being taped...having a trick played on me? Was my patience and kindness being tested?

Tomorrow, I am sitting in the absolute, exact, extreme, complete opposite corner of Mr. Smelly. Let one of my class/team mates deal with the stench this time around. Yeah---take one for the team, buddy.

I earned my dues already.

Where to go...What to do...

With my 30th birthday rapidly approaching and my questioning of life rapidly increasing, I just feel....

lost.

Ever experienced that?

When you start looking back at all that you have, or haven't, accomplished with your time...
When you start comparing your life to others' in your peer group or age range...
When you ponder, often, what on earth you should be doing with your life...
If you are headed in the right direction...
The wrong direction...
No direction...

Am I having a mid-life crisis of sorts?
Am I being too hard on myself?

All the questions one must consider from time to time.

Just yesterday I had an interview for an internship position that I was uber excited to pursue. It sounded, on paper, like the perfect position for me. I couldn't wait. But...now...I am hoping that I don't get it; that way I won't have to explain why I'll be turning it down.

Yup, I don't think I will take it, even if I get it. It would allow for me to get my own apartment in Albuquerque and spend six months working alongside resource planners for the region. But...it is an office job; a sedentary, sit-on-your-ass-in-front-of-a-computer-screen-for-eight-hours- type of job. I think I would be miserable. Plus, what was described on paper was not necessarily the position I would be agreeing to. My gut says no. I know I need to trust my gut.

Tomorrow I start training for a job I got offered with the Census Bureau. It's a short-term gig, maybe 12 weeks, as a Recruiting Assistant. It pays fairly well, and garners $.55 per mile (which around these parts could prove quite lucrative). But, if I go tomorrow and they tell me I have to work my ass off or walk through the darkness into the ghetto...I'll turn it down. (Can't risk running into the pimp again!)

I have several internship applications sitting around, awaiting their drafting or placement into an envelope for shipment. I want to fill them out, want to be accepted....but at the same time...I don't.

So what is happening here?

All that is on my mind these days is travel. I wanted to spend a luxurious weekend at a fancy spa for my birthday or travel down to Costa Rica for the week. All of these plans have been avoided and pushed to the side while I deal with schoolwork and general life. But it's all I think about...all I want to do right now.

Until I started donating my summers to Alaskan Parks, I took a yearly summer trip...wherever. I would literally just get into my truck with my camping gear in tow and...go. I had vague plans in my mind, but I mostly made it up as I went. No time restrictions, no reservations. No plans. Just the spirit of the road.

It allowed for ample time to myself. There is nothing like the open road. The feeling of absolute freedom...wow. Indescribable. Blasting the radio with the windows down, taking in the beauty that America has to offer....those times will forever be ingrained in my mind as...just irreplaceable and compelling.

Even in Alaska I was allowed substantial alone time. I had my own cabin, nestled in the woods a good distance from anyone. Like the scary neighbor who everyone fears, no one ever came to visit me or bothered me. It was great sometimes, lonely at others. My third summer, however, I was forced to share my space. I felt crowded. No good.

So maybe my resistance to commitment at the moment is that need, that desire, to be on the go again...to spend some time with only me and the country-side I encounter. To feel that freedom again and resist plans. To have no schedule, no schoolwork, no...nothing.

But I am also assessing life. I do it often; it's the introverted, think-things-through type that I am. I remember in my early 20's, comparing myself to my friends and feeling insignificant. The only problem: all of my friends were at least 10 years older than me. How could I compare.

But now I am roughly the age they were back then....and I still feel insignificant.

It's stupid, I know. Especially in my case. My life is so unique; it cannot be compared to anyone's that I have ever met. My circumstances are different...and therefore so is my life.

I need to realize this.

I thought that I wanted to be 'set' by the time I was 30; to know what I wanted to 'do' with my life. But maybe I don't. That's not me. I am extremely versatile, I love adventure and staying one place too long freaks me out. A typical 9-5 job wouldn't kill me, but it likely wouldn't bring out the best in me, either. I need something...different.

So, with yet another decade nearly behind me, perhaps it would behoove me to take some serious time to reassess what I really want out of life.

Maybe it is time for that trip on the Trans-Siberian Railroad, to Antarctica, or to Australia and New Zealand.

Maybe I should set off to Vegas on Saturday and let the wind catch my hair along the 18 hour journey.

Perhaps I should, rather than get too worried about what others think, just go with the flow and let life take me where it so desires. Honestly, when I've let fate (or whatever you like to call it) take over, things seem to work out the best. I have the most fun and enjoy my time. It's when I started planning too much that things...lose their excitment.

Have fun and enjoy my time...

In the end, that's all that matters.

Rejection, Reading Eyes and Remaining Calm

Luckily as I age and grow calmer, so do my nerves. Don't get me wrong, there are still certain things that still get me riled up--my school work being one of them. I am a perfectionist when it comes to my studies; projects are begun on the day they are assigned, finished with weeks to spare and edited over and over again. I'm a freak about it, but that is okay. It's who I am. Money, too. I have always been a saver and probably always will be. Unless an extremely large sum of cash comes my way, which is highly unlikely, I will always be, well, stingy.

In most other aspects of life, I have become pretty laid-back. I have learned through life's experiences that planning ahead is sometimes a complete waste, that worrying about the future is oftentimes unwarranted and being too stubborn about the small stuff just plain ridiculous.

As a kid I was completely different. I grew up in a nervous household, and was therefore quite nervous myself. My three immediate family members (parents and sister) are the type who can't relax. They tend to freak out and think the worst. I have always been a black sheep in many ways, and it seems even more so lately.

Being relaxed about life's happenings isn't such a bad thing. When I received the thanks for your application but...letter in the mail yesterday in regards to my Presidential Management Fellowship application I didn't really care. Honestly, I think I would have been more surprised had I been chosen as one of the coveted few. So I didn't make the cut. At least I tried. Next...

My entire family is completely distressed in regards to the recent diagnosis of my father. Completely understandable. Being told that you have a fatal, incurable disease is not something any of us want to hear. But he saw one doctor and only had one--of at least a half dozen--tests to prove that he truly has Lou Gehrig's. The little bit of research that I have done in the last few days has consistently expressed that the disease is incredibly hard to diagnose due to its tendency to mimic several other diseases (that are manageable, if not curable). A second opinion is highly recommended in a case as such. I am remaining calm and positive....and attempting to rub off on my family. If a plethora of tests and doctors visits still render his condition as such, then the freak-fest will begin. But taking the word of one medical professional is risky...trust me, I know.

I am a huge skeptic of "modern" medicine. Okay, fine, I am a skeptic of many things. But with the number of doctors I have been to over the last dozen years, only two ever made me feel better. The two "witch doctors" as I call them. One guy fed me strange herbs and weird drinks while supplementing them with massages using an electric sander. The other guy simply touched me and made weird motions with his hands.

In both instances, I felt better than I had with any conventional prescription drug.

So was it all in my head? It's possible. The mind is a very powerful organ and, in my opinion, has a substantial impact on our health and well-being. But I don't think this was the case. I believe in the power of 'alternative' healing. I am one of those who believes there is a cure for every disease...somewhere out there...maybe in the deep reaches of the jungle or the bottom of the ocean...but everything can be cured with natural substances.

So yesterday my father and I went to an eye reading guy. Yeah--he takes a picture of both eyes and reads them. Very weird, but so interesting. According to him, everything that happens to the body--less surgery that is performed while under anesthesia--is recorded in the eyes.

Like I said, if there ever was a skeptic, here I am. But this man was very sincere and extremely knowledgeable. He treats several people I know and travels throughout the state helping others.

So, we have started my father on an abundance of several minerals. It can't hurt. And if it is all just a mind game, then so be it. If his mind can trick his body into thinking he is devoid of any neurological diseases, bring it on. Life throws strange things our way constantly. Who knows, perhaps a little positive reinforcement and the idea that a combination of minerals and various supplements will reverse whatever may be plaguing my father's body.

Only time will tell. But in the meantime, I will remain calm and collected. I am not one who necessarily believes that we control our own destinies. There are a plethora of outside forces affecting us negatively at any given moment. All we can do is hope for the best, keep our heads up, take it as it comes and move on if necessary.

As Abraham Lincoln expressed, it is not the years in your life that matter, but the life in your years.

...Under the Wrath of Doom?

They say that when things go wrong...they go really wrong. In sticking to the fabulously lucky year that 2009 has presented us, today brought more...doom.

I hate to sound depressing. I am a very happy and positive person. But, if I didn't know any better I would think that my family was currently under a dark cloud of misery.

As I sat at City Hall this morning listening to the Manager of Water and Utilities spouting off about how Abilene has ample water to supply to Tenasty, my parents were sitting at a neurologist's office discussing Lou Gehrig's Disease.

What?

Although I expected to learn that my arch-enemy, the death-box called a coal plant, would be able to get water from Abilene, hearing it with my own two ears was absolutely heart wrenching. Although this was simply a 'presentation' and no decisions were made, if under-the-table payoffs continue and Tenasty gets its way, they will eventually get their water officially. Not good. There are still many barriers for them to jump, public hearings to be held and contracts to be drafted. It could certainly all go away; without a Council majority they are out of luck. But with their power, money and corruption it is hard not to think the worst.

We can still fight on other fronts, and will, but water was our biggest hope.

Then there is Mr. Lou Gehrig. A famous baseball player of the 1930s, he died of a neurological disease that has since carried his namesake. Said disease results in a loss of neuro-motor functions and is ultimately fatal.

After several visits to various doctors and a round of tests today, my father's diagnosis is such.

Only 2 in 100,000 people are at risk of developing this disease; 5,000 Americans per year. But as of late, there are no cures.

From here...well, where do you go? A second opinion is suggested; encouraged actually. The symptoms can mimic those of several other diseases. Otherwise, we literally have no control over what happens.

In conclusion, live life. Don't dwell on the small things. Live your dreams; don't put them off. You never know what may hit you from one day to the next.