French Buckaroo

Visited the latest exhibit at the library called “Guardians of the Camargue: The French Buckaroo Traditions.”

Where do I start? First, it’s French. Second it’s Buckaroos. What’s not to love. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love cheese, retro cowboys, and all things French.

In preparation for what promised to be an exhibit that had it all for me personally, I went to the source of all knowledge, Google. Not a whole lot about the exhibit. What I found was much, much better: these fantastic song lyrics French Cowboys – Pants.

Glad I found these lyrics as the exhibit turned out to be a bit lame.

My Very Own Liberace Magnet

Does Facebook Know Something I don’t?

My South African host, the uber-cool Pirate Pamela, said I could look at pix of her dogs on Facebook. I logged in and what do you know? Facebook has me looking for women. Interesting.

Dreams

So, it’s interesting to me how things (ideas, incidents, topics, etc.) come up in groups. Today, for instance, I mentioned a funky dream I had last night to my library colleagues. More on that later. Then, not 15 minute later, one of our regular patrons started talking about lucid dreaming. And he wasn’t yet in the library to overhear our previous conversation. Then, in teen club yet another patron mentioned her dream. And now, another favorite blog, Dad Gone Mad, wrote about his recurring dream. There’s really not much more to this thought. Just interesting how that happens.

So, my dream. I was in my office talking on the phone to a client, with my back to the big window. My dogs, good citizens of the republic that they are, started barking. I got up to check it out just as a masked burglar picked the lock and started to open the door. He was surprised as I was which is probably why I was able to slam the door closed, screaming, “You mother fuckers!”, and locking the deadbolt again. I woke up when I was dialing 911. What’s funny to me is the use of one of my favorite catch phrases. I could have called him a douche bag but my subconscious called for something stronger.

Vaccinations Make You Bullet-Proof

In preparation for my jaunt to Africa, I need shots, lots of shots. So off I went to the Travel Clinic sponsored by the Arizona Department of Public Health, DPH.

It’s pretty ghetto, not in the nicest part of town and with the WIC offices right across the hall (lots o’ screaming babies) but it’s OK. Across the street is the Ranch Market. Hello, fish tacos!

I go thinking I need some pills for malaria and Cipro, aka Shit-Be-Gone. Instead I left witha huge packet of information about how not to die when travelling in Africa, a typhoid shot that made me feel weird and sleep for 12 hours, an appointment for a dose of yellow fever vaccine and a long list of extras I need to get from my regular doctor.

Next up: a visit to my regular doctor for all the stuff considered “routine vaccinations” by my insurance: flu, TDAP, Hep A & B, and polio. Also, finally gonna get me a perscription for malaria pills and Cipro.

Next, next step: yellow fever. Because of a shortage I will had to get in line for one-fifth of an available dose. I hope I don’t feel as crappy with this as I did with the typhoid shot.

Jeez, I’m gonna be bullet proof. There will be a lot of dead viruses in my veins.

My First Blog, Again

Is this the same thing as revirgination? I’ve already had two false starts at a blog for my own personal use. But it’s been two years. I think I have spontaneously reverted to a revirginated state, blog-wise.

But now is the perfect time to get going. I’m in the process of telling everyone who will listen (or not, don’t really care) that I’m going to Africa. South Africa, to be precise. And I’m very excited.

I Think I Want a FURminator

Dang, I think I need one of these things for D.O.G. He sheds like you read about, leaving a DOG-shaped ring wherever he goes. But Dooce (a favorite blog) said it worked for her furball so I think I’ll try it. In the meantime, let me post some pix of the haircut D.O.G. got last summer. My only excuse, the blades were dull.