Tonight, I’m watching the finale of “Smallville.” I realize it was actually over last week, but Mike and I were in Las Vegas for a friend’s wedding. And let’s face it: a wedding is more important. Besides, what’s the point of DVR if you don’t use it?

In any case, in many ways it’s appropriate that I’m watching it a week late. I didn’t see the show for the first time until it was in its second season. Actually, the first episode I ever saw, I saw three times before I saw another episode.

The episode I over-watched is, actually, one of my least favorites. Possibly because of the number of times I saw it. It’s the one where Lana’s childhood best friend, Emily, comes back. They go to the bridge to play, where she learns what happened to her. That she died.

I saw it, the first time, with my brother, who told me he thought I’d like the show. The second time I saw that episode, I was again at my parents’ house and they were playing a rerun. The third time was a couple of months later, when I was in France as a study abroad student, I was watching TV and saw that Smallville was on. Thinking I’d like to see another episode and give it a test run, I decided to watch. Of course, the upshot was at least I understood what was going on.

I’ve been hooked ever since. Partially because of the ties to France, where I believe I really found myself. But it’s also because as a kid I loved the TV show “Lois and Clark” and because I’ve always enjoyed fantasy and science fiction stories of all kinds (I’m a Trekkie and I love Star Wars. What can I say?)

In fact, in a college journalism class, while writing my obituary (it was a weird assignment and I failed it), I tied Tom Welling (Smallville’s Clark Kent) into it. And while I babysat a a friend’s small child starting that year (he was about 6 months old at the time and I babysat until he was 2), I often turned Smallville on for him. He loved the bright colors and would clap his hands for it when I pulled it out.

In my crappy apartment, I fell asleep listening to Smallville. And these days, when I have some work I need to get done, I turn on Smallville because I know it so well I don’t pay any attention. Unless I feel nostalgic and turn on the French language track.

Of course, I do feel that they let Smallville run a little long. They kinda did a bit of overlapping I don’t overly approve of, like letting Clark start working at the planet before he’s Superman and before he can fly.

That said,  I’m pretty sure this wedding episode is making it up for me. I’m super emotional for some reason. Maybe it’s just that it’s a wedding. Mike and I both cried at our friends wedding. I was just glad I didn’t start while we girls were sticking her in her gown.

Here Comes the Bride

And now, the weddings over… but not in a happily ever after kind of a way. So, my introspection is temporarily over while I finish this. Can’t wait to see how it ends. It’s been a long time coming, that’s for sure.

There’s only question left, really: Do I buy the seasons I don’t already own, or do I let childhood fancies behind me?

First Amendment

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press;

or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Four Weeks, Three Buttons, Two Weeks, One Zipper

I like Maurice’s. They’re medium-expensive, so I can afford the products and the products usually last a long time. The clothes are cute. There are a lot of options and they’re aware that not every person has the same body shape. That said, I like to be satisfied when I buy something. When something breaks without reason, I get annoyed. Really annoyed.

Four weeks ago, I bought a coat at Maurice’s. It was on sale from $70 for $35. Then, I got an additional discount bringing it down to $22.75.

That weekend, I wore it skiing and before I was even out on the slopes, I lost a button.

By the end of that week, I lost two more buttons. I was annoyed, contemplated taking it back and didn’t. Why? Because it’s just buttons. I can buy new buttons, replace them and sew them on. No big deal. Even my sewing skills aren’t that pathetic. Mine’ll probably last a few years, anyway.

Today, two weeks later, Mike and I went to the truck. His buddy who’s house sitting for us dropped us off and I volunteered to grab some mocha frappes (yes, it’s Indiana and it’s 12 degrees outside. But it’s a mocha frappe for Pete’s sake).

Mike said that was fine, as long as I bundled up. He pulled up my zipper. It broke off in his hand. It just completely snapped off. REALLY?!

Time to write my letter of complaint. Yes, zippers can be replaced, but it’s a much bigger deal than a button. And I may have only paid $20, but it’s a $70 coat. That’s unacceptable. And I want my money back.

Oh, to make it worse, as soon as I got back, I dropped my caramel frappe all over the ground. No problems until I got to the truck. And then? Splattered on the ground. So sad. (The upside is Mike offered to treat me as soon as we see a McDonald’s.)

Overview of the Naples Zoo: Naples, Florida

Mike and I spent our honeymoon in Naples, Florida. The city is beautiful. The population is mostly older (not to mention more well-to-do), so we felt a little out of place, but we still had a good time. I couldn’t find my camera, so we had to borrow my sisters. I will put pics up when she arrives for her visit (hurray!)

The Naples Zoo is beautiful. They have dozens of animals and the zookeepers do little “shows” so you can learn more about the animals. We learned about the zoo’s two bears and how before they came to be at the zoo, they were stuck in someone’s bedroom. The brother and sister were dressed up like little stuffed animals or babies. When the owner died, his children didn’t want them. Now, the female still has difficult with the fact that she has more room and tends to walk back and forth across the same path, approximately the distance of an 8×8 bedroom.

We also saw snakes, which gave me a bit of a heart attack, but was still interesting. The zookeepers told us about them, their poison and let us ask any questions we wanted. Can you say, “Dream come true.” I love asking questions. In any case, I learned that snakes see in black and white and that their scales feel like the top of a human fingernail and is made of approximately the same substance.

We also saw the alligators being fed. Did you know that in Florida it’s illegal to feed the alligators? You’ll get a fine and a ticket. Why? Simple. When alligators are fed, they go back to that same feeding place. So if you feed them your sandwich one day, they’ll come back the next day when they see someone standing there (say, fishing his golf ball out of the small pond) and go for him. The zookeeper said something along the lines of, “If you could just stand there while you’re being bit, there wouldn’t be a problem.”

The problem comes when you pull back. Because then the alligator pulls, drags you into the water, drowns you and realizes he doesn’t want to eat you, after all. Depressing, right? (They don’t like their food – with the exception of fish – fresh. They bury it so it gets icky and old and then unbury it and eat it. Eehhh)

We also met the male and female lions at the zoo. I’ve never seen lions awake before. Normally, they sleep the whole time. Maybe they wag their tale for you. These lions were very happy to be getting their food and made an appearance. And I got peed on.

The Neice and Broken Down (Part 2)

I got to meet my new niece! My sister-in-law was in the hospital for about 48 hours before giving birth. Sucks, right? When Zoey decided to make her presence known, it was after a C-section. She was 9lbs 60z and is now 4 days old and adored by her whole family.

After our quick stop at home, the husband and I continued on in our journey. We weren’t far along when we broke down. So, now we’re stuck in Ohio and have been here for nearly 48 hours. I love Starbucks, some days. Today is not one of those.

Breakdown

Clearly, I’ve done a terrible job writing regularly.

The husband’s truck broke down twice yesterday. It was the same thing but times: the fuel filter. Evidently, there is one on each side of the truck. The first mechanic came while we were parked on the side of the road. He barely had time to pull off before the truck stopped. It wouldn’t accelerate or anything.

I had to get out while he set up the triangles. It’s dangerous to be in the truck before the hazard signs are set up, in case someone doesn’t see the emergency lights flashing and hits the truck.

The worst part? We were carrying an important load, and we hadn’t gone far enough to stop yet. Just didn’t have a choice.

Although his truck breaks down a lot, this is the first time it’s happened while I’ve been along. Outside, it was FREEZING!!!! He tried to get me to stand next to the truck engine while we were waiting for the mechanic to arrive, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Good thing, too. While he was showing me how easy it is, he ripped his pants.

The second time it broke down, I was passed out on the bed. He’d managed to pull into a teeny tiny truck stop and someone was coming out to fix it. He kissed my forehead, which woke me up, and told me. I’m pretty sure I mumbled something incoherent.

Not long after, though, I woke up. I had work I wanted to get done. (And I did, though it took much longer than I expected. My work. Not the repair.)

In any case, we have a long run that’s taking us right by where we live, so we’re stopping for the night.

The best part? His sister is in labor — right now! (She’s been in the hospital for 45 hours now, poor thing,) So I might be able to meet my niece!!

Also while home I will find my camera if I have to tear the whole house apart to do so. I hate seeing beautiful scenery and not being able to take a photo of it.  So many pretty places in this country.

Tomorrow: I will be writing about my niece, assuming she decides to come and meet people today.

…And we’re back!

So, this morning, my sister-in-law took us to the truck so that Mike and I can head back out on the road. I’m super tired… not sure why. So, I’m working. I can’t find my camera, so I can’t take (halfway decent) pictures, but I will update this regularly (daily) over the next three weeks, while we are out together.

Trucking is a very different lifestyle. The quarters are small. Cost of living is high. Bathrooms are even more rare than they are for regular car trips, because trucks can only park in specific locations. You’ll end up in different places around the country.  Pretty, really. Sometimes, the food is good. Sometimes, it’s not. It’s all expensive.

My Introduction to the World of Trucking

Right after we got married, my husband and I went trucking together, so he could work and I could spend time with him. The first few days were awful. Really, truly awful. This is the story of my introduction to the trucking world.

We arrived at the terminal, tired and hungry. I really really really really really had to use the restroom. The second he pulled in, I jumped up, begging to be let out. He said no, he had to park. I sat back down, waiting impatiently while they directed him through to where the line began so he could get the work done on his truck.

A few moments later, I asked if I could go again. This time, he was parked, so he told me where to go and let me down. I RAN to the area where the truckers were gathered, burst through the gates, pushed open the doors and ran to the bathroom.

Ms. Pacman! Hurray!

I came back out and realized I had a problem. I didn’t know if he was in the bathroom and I should wait for him or if he was still in the truck. I decided to wait a few minutes. Fortunately, the terminal has Ms. PacMan, the only video game (with the exception of anything Mario) that I’m even remotely good at, so I played. No sign of The Man.

After a few minutes indecision, I went out and looked around. Here’s the problem: in a terminal, the line of trucks are all for the same company. They’re all the same color, they all have the same logo and there are virtually no distinguishing marks. Fortunately, I knew where he was parked.

Except for one thing. He wasn’t there.

A Truck Terminal

I frantically searched, looking for any sign of the truck I knew to be his: the GPS on the window, my garter, which he hung in the truck, or his map, which was on the ledge at the front, or the Volvo symbol. All while trying to look like I wasn’t trying to look at truck windows. No luck.

I made my way back to the trucker’s lounge. Inside, it’s pretty dismal. No internet. Ms. Pacman. A small TV (playing “Covert Affairs”, which I’ve now seen enough of to support my initial assumption that it would be dumb), about eight round tables and some vending machines.

Outside is even worse. A covered area with two picnic tables and a little yellow bird, flailing because it fell out of its nest and broke a leg or a wing or a tail.

Looks like the one we saw

So I played Ms. Pacman. And then I bought sprite, and wandered through the trucks again. Still no luck.

Back inside. Out of cash. Cell phone in truck. Laptop in truck. Sat at table. Played Pacman.

Went through the trucks again.

I must have looked pretty lost, because on my way back, a mechanic stopped me, “Lookin’ for someone?”

Head nod.

“Your husband?”

Head nod.

“How long you been married?”

“Three days.”

He laughed. “If you lost him after three days, I wonder what you’ll do in three years.”

I walked away to the peals of his laughter. Back inside.

The next time I got up to search, I saw my husband. THREE hours had gone by. Literally.

“I’m sorry, honey. I went to sleep and then I just woke up and I wondered where you were because I thought you were just going to go and come right back!”

Yep. That’s what I thought, too.

Oh, and if that’s not enough, we were at the terminal until afternoon of the following day – about 24 hours later. Seriously. I hate truck terminals. Especially that one.