The Animal Personality Test

I found this personality test over at Where The Road Takes Us. It definitely characterizes me almost to the "T". I didn't know I'm irrational, though. Oh, wait, would carelessly giving a hitchhiker a ride and angrily riding my bycicle alone to Vedauwoo, a forty-mile ride from Cheyenne, be considered irrational actions?

You Relate to Deer and Pandas

Your Power Animal: Deer Animal You Were in a Past Life: Panda You are a fun-seeker - an adventurous, risk-taker. While you are spontaneous, you are not very rational.

The Animal Personality Test

In Support of Roy--The Struggling Blogger

This post is dedicated to Roy of The Struggling Blogger and Reflections. He's trying to win a free domain hosting that is being offered by Technology Talks. In order to help him win, bloggers may write a post in their blogs in support of him. For those of you who'd like to write a post, make sure to link your post to the contest rules. This is very important if we want our posts be counted toward Roy's nomination. Oh, I must say also that the deadline for post (vote) submission is December 30, 2008.

I support him because he's a decent man. I'm touched by his life story . He seems to have all the bad luck in the world happening to him. He became unemployed over a year ago. Additionally and most unfortunately, he recently lost his wife . Now he's left with three small children with no means to provide for them.

Writing this post, as an appeal to his cause, is my small way of giving him a helping hand. I hope that by him winning a free domain service it gives him something to look forward to for the New Year.

So, friends, you're welcome to write a post in support of Roy. I'm sure he'd be appreciative.

Lastly, I shall give my friend, Jena, at Candid Thoughts credit for introducing me to Roy's blog. It's at her blog that I read about Roy and about the contest at Technology Talks.

Thanks for reading.

Tasha

A Family Tradition

(Photo by me, Tasha)

I’d like to share with you one of my family’s traditions. When my family and I came to live in Wyoming in 1994, we started a family tradition with my sister and her family, which we still practice today. Every first Saturday of December, we go up to the mountains to hunt for that Perfect Christmas Tree. Perfect has a very relative meaning in this subject. The mountain-harvested Christmas trees do not look like the tree farm bought trees that have a perfect, robust, and green appearance. The perfect mountain-harvested Christmas tree is something the tree farm owner would discard in the landfill. Unfit for the market! You know that saying, “A face only a mother could love,” right? Well, it applies in this situation also, especially that we’ve worked hard to find it and bring it home.

We may never have a perfect tree farm bought Christmas tree, but we’d never give up our tradition for one, either. We treasure our tradition because it gives our families another reason to get together, go up to the mountains, and enjoy a fun-filled day. First, we gather at my sister’s house and then leave when everybody’s present and accounted for. Laramie is only 45 minutes drive from Cheyenne, but it never fails that we stop at this fishing tackle store there, just off I-80, before heading up into the mountains. I suppose it’s a part of the tradition, too. It wouldn’t be the same if we didn’t stop.

On our drive, the kids are talking through the two-way radios. When the kids were little, there were just two vehicles and two 2-way radios. This year, there were four vehicles, so there were four 2-way radios. We make jokes and make comments about anything and just have fun using the radios along the way.

Once in the mountains, we park our vehicles alongside the narrow road. (You don’t want to go too far to the side or your truck drops off into the snow drift-covered ditch and you get stuck in the snow—four wheel drive and all.)

Hubby's vehicle still didn't get washed from his bison hunting trips.

For all the years we’ve been going up there, we always park and walk into the same area. We’re traditionalists, I suppose. We routinely see snowmobiles whizzing up and down the sides of the roads. One of these days, we’ll join them. We’ve been telling ourselves that—year after year, but still haven’t gotten around to doing it. Maybe next year. Yeah, right.

We put our snow boots and snow shoes on. (Hubby usually helps me put mine on.)

Off we go. Many times we’re the first humans to walk though the virgin snow. We see deer and rabbit tracks, but that’s about it. We’ve been up there in different weather conditions—pleasant to bitter cold, snow falling and/or blowing, white-out or blizzard, cloudy and sunny. This year, it was a gorgeous, sunny day. My family and I walk all over, stopping occasionally to take pictures and to critique each potential candidate until we find our perfect Christmas tree. Once we make our choice, we cut it down and then drag it to the truck, huffing and puffing.Hubby and his saw.

My brother-in-law usually brings a pot of his favorite chili recipe, which he heats up on his camping stove. My sister boils some water to make hot chocolate. I then bring out the shredded cheese, Chili-Cheese Fritos, and some desserts from our vehicle. We sit in camping chairs that my brother-in-law carries in his truck all year round, while the kids go sledding.

This year, one of my nieces towed the others up the road while they rode the toboggan that was tied to the back of her truck. Once up on the summit, they’d untie the toboggan and, then, off they’d go down the slope. They’d repeat the same maneuver until lunch is ready. Of course, it’d take forever to get them over to eat. There’s just something magical about eating piping-hot chili and drinking hot chocolate out in the cold outdoors. They taste heavenly. When the kids are done eating, they’d go back sledding until we’re packed and ready to head home.
This is our Perfect Christmas Tree after hubby decorated it with glass ornaments, white lights, and gold and silver balls.

Because Gabe gets into everything now, we hardly put Christmas decorations out, especially the breakable ones. We still put a few out that are not breakable.

Our Son and his son, Gabe.This is Gabe, smiling at you.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you share some of your family traditions, as well.

I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize to you, my friends, for not having visited your blogs lately. The past two weeks have been so hectic, meeting friends for breakfast or lunch, attending parties, going shopping, Christmas decorating, and just meeting everyday life’s demands and responsibilities. Don’t think one minute that I’ve forgotten about you; I have just been very busy. And it looks like it will be this way at least until after the second week of January. By then, I’ll have put on another 20 pounds. I’ll be Mrs. Pillsbury Dough Boy, for sure.

In closing, I wish all of you a very Merry Christmas and a happy, prosperous New Year!

With Love,
Tasha

I Gave Into Temptation!

I was only in this country three months when hubby and I drove from Florida to Pennsylvania to visit his family in December 1977. It was my first long trip in a car. Along the way, we passed people with backpacks, holding signs, asking for rides. I asked hubby why we didn’t stop to give them rides. “This is something you have to learn in this country,” he said. “Unlike the Philippines, you just don’t go stopping and giving people rides, if you want to live.”

“What do you mean?” As naïve as I was, hubby had to explain to me all the dangers of giving rides to strangers.

“Oh, but they look tired, cold, and hungry. I feel sorry for them.”

“Well, you just have to feel sorry for them, Tootie, because we’re not stopping to give them rides,” hubby said. I was truly heartbroken for them. I still am when I see them out there. I’m always tempted to give those hitchhikers rides. Actually, I gave into temptation and gave a guy a ride a year and a half ago. Needless to say, hubby was not happy. I was scared to death the whole time. So, as much as I like to give them rides, I’m not going to anymore. You’ll find out why.
Anyway, I was driving up in Vedauwoo (pronounced as Vedavoo), looking for the outdoor performance by the University of Wyoming dance troupe. It’s a type of dance in which dancers are tied to long ropes as they perform their aerial dances. I couldn’t find the place, so I stopped on the side of the road to check the map again. The man I passed a while back walking from the direction of Interstate 80 (I-80), approached me, unexpectedly, in my van. He asked if I could give him a lift to his truck somewhere on the other side of the wooded park. I saw that he only had the can of gas with him and looked very tired from walking. I was reluctant to give him a ride, but he pleaded. It was just him and me out there in the boonies. I said, “I can’t because I have to be somewhere. I just can’t find the place right now.” As soon as I said that, a voice inside my head told me that perhaps I wasn’t suppose to find the place so that I could give this man a ride. The next thing I knew, I was asking him where his truck was while allowing him to get into the passenger side.

I called hubby on my cell phone right away, saying that I was going to be late meeting him for lunch because I had to give somebody a ride. I wasn’t making any sense to him. He was clearly baffled. We didn’t plan a lunch date, so why was I calling to say that? He asked where I was and what I was doing in Vedauwoo. He had forgotten about me going to the outdoor dance performance. It was my subtle way of letting the man know that I was in contact with my husband that if he had any evil purpose, that he might want to think twice before doing it. It was also my subtle way of letting hubby know the general area where to find me or my body, just in case. After driving a while and not finding his truck, I became very suspicious and very nervous. I talked to him some more. He didn’t talk very much. In the mean time, hubby had been calling me every few minutes wanting to know if I was okay. I said yes. He wanted to know if he should come over, or if he should call the police. I said no, and that we still haven’t found the guy’s truck. So far, we had been driving an hour and a half, looking for his truck. Hubby suggested taking him to the Highway Department to see if anybody there had towed his vehicle. I told that to the guy. He agreed. I also told him that I had to go to work. I was so relieved after I dropped him off at the Highway Department’s parking lot. Whether he went inside or not, I don't know. I didn't wait to see. I hurried to drive away from him incase he'd ask me to drive him around some more.

I’ll never know if the guy truly got turned around and had lost his bearing, completely, which he had claimed. Supposedly, his truck ran out of gas around 2 a.m. on the other side of Vedauwoo. He then hitched a ride with a Semi truck to Laramie, which is 15 miles west of Vedauwoo. While in Laramie, he went to a bar, which explained the strong alcohol smell in him. It could have been worse if the smell of gas didn’t dampen it. From Laramie, he hitched a ride with a semi-truck and got dropped off at the entrance of the park. From there, he walked up to where I was parked. Either that or he was running away from the law. The smell of gas was so potent that dogs would not have been able to follow his tracks.

Yes, never again will I give a stranger a ride. I was very fortunate that nothing bad happened to me.

Thanks for reading.

Defying the Threats of Economic Depression

Friday, the day after Thanksgiving Day, is called Black Friday. I asked my husband why it’s called that. He said, “It’s because the businesses will finally make profits during that day, which will put them in the Black rather than in the Red once again.” Unless you’ve taken some business courses in your schooling days, those terms don’t make a wee bit of a sense. They didn’t to me. I gathered from his phrase that Black must mean profit and Red must mean loss.

Not that I didn’t trust what hubby said, in fact, he suggested that I Google it out, just to make sure. So, I visited one of my favorite web sites: The Free Dictionary. Wikipedia Encyclopedia there confirmed what he said. I’m glad, or else his Master’s Degree in Business Management would have meant nothing, eh?

Of course, Black Friday, according to Wikipedia, has many other meanings. But for this particular Black Friday, following Thanksgiving Day, Wikipedia defines it as “the day retail businesses would make their profits for the year and be operating in the "black" and not the "red".

Yesterday, after I got off from work in the morning, I went shopping. Yes, I went to do my patriotic duty in reenergizing the economy and helped those businesses be in the black. Due to my work hours, I was denied of the 5:00 a.m. mad rush, NOT! Anyway, wherever I went, I had to drive around at least twice before finding a parking spot. That was how packed the stores and the mall were. Once inside, I was greeted by long lines of people to the registers. As I walked the mall, I noticed all the stores, busy and eating places, packed. Everybody I saw was towing carts or bags full of goodies.

Everybody was out, shopping like there isn’t an economic depression. Except for a few run-down-looking vehicles, the vehicles that I saw parked at every parking lot are new and expensive ones. I don’t know if Cheyenne or the State of Wyoming is not yet affected by the depression. Either that or everyone here, including me, is defying the threats of economic depression to our way of life. So, in defiance, we went shopping, like there is no problem in the economy or in our financial situations. I hope our effort, however small it may have been, had made an impact and hope that the economy will improve soon.

What was it like in your town, city, or State this past Black Friday? Did you go shopping to take advantage of all of those great sales?

Thank you for reading

Our Darling Grandbabies

My husband and I are twice grandparents now. Our son and his girlfriend thought it would be cool and fun to make us grandparents early. Well, we didn’t take it too kindly, I tell you. After all, we’re still too young to be one, you see. Ha! Ha!

Hubby and I were crushed and greatly disappointed with our son when we learned about his girlfriend’s pregnancy. Both of them were barely seventeen at the time. Still babies themselves. Neither one was prepared for parenthood nor for any adult responsibilities. His girlfriend was already four months into her pregnancy when we were informed, which meant to us that the seed was planted when they were only sixteen years old. Too young, indeed.

Tensions mounted between our son and us, for which I had shed a lot of tears on the matter. There was also a time when the two lovebirds broke up and only gotten back together the day of their son’s birth. So, before our grandson arrived into our lives, there were tears of sadness, anger, and heartaches all around us.

When Gabe arrived, all of that seemed to have gone away. He had patched up our broken hearts and bridged our broken family together again. We love him very much. He’s such a joy to watch. He loves to get involved in conversations, even if he can’t articulate any meaningful words yet. He entertains us with his theatrical antics, smiles, and giggles. He's full of energy, and likes to get into E...verything. He’s now almost two years old and doesn’t know what to do with his sister.

Gabe at six months old

I said he gets into E...verything, right? Well, here he is in the next four photos.

Gabe at twenty-two months old. A budding pianist, perhaps?
Or, a singer in a band?

Or, the best Foose ball player?

Or, the best DVD rearranger?

Of course, our son and his girlfriend didn’t learn from the first time and thought it would be fun again to make us doubly disappointed with them. So, nine months ago, they brewed the same recipe and this month, presented us with another grandbaby.

Mereyah arrived a week late. I think she’s taking after granny in that department, ALWAYS LATE. Except with her, she started before birth. I hope that doesn’t continue, or else, she’d be reminded, “You’re just like your grandmother, always late!” I hate the thought of that. Poor child and I’d be turning over in my grave each time, too. I much rather her be likened to me for my good qualities (ahem): “You’re just as dependable as your grandmother who always keeps her words and never abandoning her love ones and friends. You’re just as loving and as caring as your grandmother who cries at everybody’s sad life stories, who gives comfort to anybody who needs it by lending her ears to someone else’s ranting, or by offering words of inspiration or consolation.” Or, “You’re just as generous as your grandmother who gives willingly and generously to those who are less fortunate than she.” Sorry about those bit parts. They're self-promoting, I know. But just ignore the thought. I'm just trying to make a point that granny (moi) has commendable qualities as well aside from her "late-eriosis" disease.

Anyway, Mereyah didn't want to leave her COMFORT INN. She was happy and content there. I don't blame her, since it's a jungle out here. But the doctor wanted to induce the delivery. She was almost born on the day of my surgery. Thank goodness, she had the sense to wait for me. She communicated with the doctor, via ultrasound waves, to hold off on the inducement. I tell you, even inside her mother's womb, she knew already who is important in her life. That's my angel. She okayed the inducement and then made her swift entrance into this big, big world two days after my surgery. By then, I was well and ready to meet her.

For now, Mereyah sleeps, feeds, poops, and sleeps some more. As the saying goes, she sleeps like an angel. See for yourselves.

Mereyah at few hours old.

Mereyah at one day old.

Even though my husband and I preferred for our son and his girlfriend to have waited until they are older, have stable jobs, and are married before having children, we can not just look away and ignore these grandchildren now.

What would you do if you are in our shoes?

Thanks for visiting and reading.

Are You Sexually Active?

I kid you not; I was asked this question last Friday (a week ago). I wasn’t sure whether I heard the question correctly or not. After all, it is such a very personal and private matter that I was sure I misheard her. So I said, “I beg your pardon?”

“Are you sexually active?”

I immediately broke into hysterical laughter. I was at a loss for words! I was like, “Ah….what kind of a question is that?” I’m sure I was beet red from embarrassment about her question. I was laughing so hard, while apologizing to her for my reaction. “It’s just that I have never been asked this question before,” I told her.

“I’m sorry, too. But there’s just no better way to ask the question. I guess I could say, 'are you getting any?’” I erupted into laughter at that, too!

I still didn’t know how to answer her. But my first thought was, “It’s none of your business!” On the other hand, I could have acted like a smarty pants and said something like, “Well, I had sex with my husband last week. Would that count? And I really do like to be more active in that department, but it’s in the middle of a hunting season, so it just has to wait.” Instead, I opted for the simplest of answers. “Yes.” Ooh, that word sounded obscene, all fo a sudden.

What prompted this question anyway? The woman I mentioned earlier is a nurse. She asked me the question when I went to the hospital to do my pre-op tests. I know that she just wanted to make sure that I am not pregnant before I was to be given a general anesthesia or any medication that might be harmful to a fetus. But I still think that there was no reason to ask that kind of question, since the doctor already ordered a pregnancy test on me. That should have been enough. That was all that they did on women patients in the past.

I thought we were done until she asked me another question. “Are you taking any street drugs?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you currently taking any street drugs?”

I must have looked like a druggie or a junkie that morning for her to ask me that question? Okay, I may have been acting silly and a little out of sorts that morning. It was because her first question prompted me to laugh hysterically and was still laughing when she asked me this question. On top of that, I worked the night before my appointment with her at 10:45 a.m. So, I was sleep deprived! This, however, didn’t mean that I was under the influence of any legal or illegal drugs! For heaven’s sake! Besides, studies show that lack of sleep tend to make people act as if they're under the influence of drugs or alcohol.

How would you handle or respond to sensitive questions; such as, these?