surfchick42's Xanga

I've been a little busy lately......

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 16:30:01 GMT

....which is why I haven't been on Xanga as much as I would like. Please forgive me.

Check out what I've been busy doing....AND before you leave the site, be sure and sign my guestbook!!!

http://www.punksurferlovescutegirl.com/indx.cfm

Love,

Steph

ps...also, check out my good friend (and great photographer!!), Julie Knight's, blog. I promise that you'll get to see me in a bikini!! hee

http://k2images.wordpress.com/2009/06/29/eddie-stephanie/

Remind me why we have Easter bunnies?

Wed, 08 Apr 2009 14:35:28 GMT

Easter has always been a holiday that confuses me. As a Christian, I get the whole reason why my particular faith celebrates the resurrection of Jesus. But what about the other stuff? Why the heck do we hand out cute little chocolate bunnies and hunt colored eggs? I don't care if it's the beginning of Spring, it just seems kind of dumb to me.

And who, exactly, is Good Friday "good" for anyway?

The BAAAA -d Boys of Scotland

Mon, 06 Apr 2009 19:07:50 GMT

I laughed until I started crying when I saw this video. Man, you've got to be talented. AND have a lot of time on your hands!!!!

http://wimp.com/sheeplight/

My Girl

Mon, 30 Mar 2009 22:31:35 GMT

Junior ran in her first 5k race this past weekend.

At first, I couldn't see her for all the other hundreds of runners. I had been standing on my toes, eagerly looking for her; and had even moved up the race pathway so that I might see her more quickly as she came down the last stretch. Could she really run that far? I wanted to offer cheers of encouragement as she ran, and comfort her if she was upset. Even at 13, I know that some things can easily upset her.

But a beautiful, young woman, ponytail swinging, wearing jogging shorts and a t-shirt caught my eye instead. I couldn't look away as I watched her quietly, but determinedly, making her way through the other runners. Even from a distance, her grace and understated strength were evident. For a moment, as she ran out from the shadow of a tree, and over the reflective surface of the still-damp road, she glowed, and I wondered what it was about her that caught my eye, and kept me from continuing to look for my daughter.

Then I realized that it was her, and my heart stopped for just a second, and I choked on the knot suddenly in my throat. She was so mature and lovely. And I realized that time really does pass much too quickly for a mother. Instead of comforting her, I found myself holding back tears of...what? Joy, loss, happiness, sadness, over-whelming pride?

The race was over in just a few short minutes for the best runners.

At the end, holding her prize for winning her age group, she was all of 13 again. Maybe less, as she giggled and demanded that I buy her something for beating everyone else. It reminded me of a a time when she was much younger, and good behavior was often rewarded with a prize. But a piece of me can't quite erase the image of the woman I saw jogging along, passing everyone else, looking so strong and sure of herself.

And I am filled with awe and wonder.

Aim vs. Pitch

Thu, 12 Mar 2009 17:01:18 GMT

I haven't ever re-posted something before...but I was reading some old entries and came across this one. I've really been missing the island lately, and this story is set in a restaurant that no longer exists since Ike. Hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed re-living it again when I read it!

Most people don't realize it, but I have PERFECT aim.

Perfect aim, much like perfect pitch (which I also happen to have) is not something that can be developed. You either have it when you are born, or you don't. It is a skill that is invoked subconciously...which can lead to some interesting encounters.

Unlike perfect pitch, which really comes in handy as as musician, perfect aim, at least in my case, doesn't always make me more socially acceptable. With perfect pitch, I can almost immediately correct minute errors in my playing, raising my skill level to that above my peers (or at least the people sitting directly around me in the orchestra). It provides a way for me to fit in to the group I am playing with. Perfect pitch among players is a highly desired gift. In this way, I am veiwed as something special, a "super musician" if you will.

Perfect aim, on the other hand, doesn't usually help me make any new friends.

Here is one of two of the most recent examples of "my gift:"

As I've mentioned in previous posts, one of my favorite places to eat in Galveston is The Cajun Greek Restaurant. It is a serious hole-in-the-wall kind of place that only the locals really know about. But the food is amazing. I'm not sure what they put in their spicy crabs, but I often see the cooks in the back swigging beer while mixing large vats of something. Maybe it's the beer, maybe not. Just trust me: you won't get better food on the island anywhere else.

The Greek (as it is affectionately known) has concrete floors, old vinyl chairs and formica tables. In the middle of the restaurant, is a huge boat-shaped bar. Behind that bar, on most days, stands the owner, John.

John is a fairly big guy, with curly hair and a mouth that is very rarely without a cigarette. He's the kind of guy that might pretend to smile at you, but you can tell he is always sizing you up. I've been told by some of the local surfers that John is always grumpy because he's always hung over (I guess it comes from hanging out with his cooks); but whatever the reason, on this particular occasion he seemed even more anti-social than usual. Being in a great mood from a day spent in the water, I waved at John, said hello and sat my butt on one of the stools at the bar, right next to one of my favorite guys, Rusty.

Rusty is something of a local celebrity in the surfing community on Galveston because he can shape a good surf board for a decent price, and deliver it within a reasonable amount of time. He had in front of him on that day the largest pile of spicy crabs I have ever seen in my life. Because it had been such a good day for me, I decided that it might be fun to finally learn how to break open those spicy critters and learn to eat crabs how they are supposed to be eaten.

Eating crabs, as I was soon to learn, is an art form. You have to know exactly how to break them apart in order to get the most amount of meat out of them. It seems like alot of work for very little gratification, but in the case of these crabs (cooked by the somewhat intoxicated chefs in the back), it is totally worth the effort. Rusty, after I explained what I wanted, was happy to to teah me the necessary skills.

"You see here this little @#$%&'s body? Well, you want to turn it over and break it in half, right along the @#$%# middle. Then you start working on the legs," explained my colorful-languaged friend.

I did what he told me to do and ended up with two sizable portions of spicy-coated crab pieces. (Just for the record, those spices, when hot, are almost intoxicating. My mouth is watering just thinking about them right now!) So, so far, so good in learning how to eat crabs.

"Now you want to twist off the @#$%&'s legs, starting with the smallest at the top. You want to pull out with your @#$%&ing teeth the meat that's going to be on the inside portion of the @#$%&ing leg."

By this time, I was getting a little dizzy with hunger (and with the striking mutilation of the English language), so I gave that first little crab leg a big twist. Nothing happened. The leg refused to come off.

Rusty and I just looked at each other for a minute. A smile started to creep up on his face, and I was sure that some foul comment about my ability (or lack thereof) to remove crab legs was going to spill out of his mouth. So, I gave the leg another twist and a big pull.

That's when it happened. My sense of perfect aim decided to kick in.

For some weird, unexplained reason, the large crab piece suddenly flew out of my hand, using the force of my pull, and flew half-way across the restaurant....

....right in to the back of John, the owners, big curly hair!

I couldn't have made that shot if I had been trying; but somehow, due to a phenomenal freak of nature, that crab hit the ONE target that no one in the restaurant would want to hit.

I could feel my eyes get huge in my head as John slowly begin to turn around. When I looked at Rusty, I realized that he looked exactly the same way. But there was no where to run (or hide for that matter), and to make matters worse, I was still holding the guilty crab leg that had decided to release at the most inappropriate moment. I quickly stuck it behind my back.

John looked at both of us, a giant of a man deciding which underling to pounce on first. He sucked deeply on his cigarette and then pronounced his verdict.

"Rusty, how many times have I @#$%&ing told you not to throw food in my restaurant?" he said.

"HEY!!! I didn't throw anything! She did it!" Rusty protested loudly.

John eyed me up and down for a long moment.

"Yeah, right," he said. "Rusty, I'm warning you: if you throw anymore food ever again, I'll make sure you never eat in my restaurant." With that, he turned back around and picked up his conversation with one of the waitresses. End of discussion.

Rusty wouldn't even talk to me after that. And I assumed that that was the end of me learning how to eat crabs.

But the good news is that I still get to eat at The Cajun Greek. Although, I could swear that John keeps his eye on me everytime I go in there now.

Like I said, this is not a gift that helps me make any new friends.

Can't we all just mind our own business....?

Thu, 12 Mar 2009 13:34:38 GMT

I rec’d this little piece in an email yesterday. It kind of struck home, not so much because I think Christians in general (including me) act this way; but because I know a handful of people who always like to get their say in at any given opportunity. Can’t we all just mind our own business sometimes? I hope you find it as funny as I did.

A drunken man who smelled like beer sat down on a subway next to a priest.

The man's tie was stained, his face was plastered with red lipstick, and a half-empty bottle of gin was sticking out of his torn coat pocket. He opened his newspaper and began reading.

After a few minutes the man turned to the priest and asked, "Say Father, what causes arthritis?"

The priest replies, "My Son, it's caused by loose living, being with cheap, wicked women, too much alcohol, contempt for your fellow man, sleeping around with prostitutes and lack of a bath."

The drunk muttered in response, "Well, I'll be damned." Then he returned to reading his paper.

The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged the man and apologized. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to come on so strong. How long have you had arthritis?"

The drunk answered, "I don't have it, Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does."

There aren't many people I dislike.....

Wed, 25 Feb 2009 21:26:54 GMT

.....but Nancy Pelosi is one of them.

I can say, however, that she has my respect as a woman: I've never known another female who could empty a bank account as quickly as she has managed to do. Two separate trillion dollar shopping sprees in just as many weeks! Wow.

(I think her eyes might be sewn open)

Memo to my bank

Fri, 20 Feb 2009 21:25:15 GMT

Dear Sirs,

In view of what seems to be happening internationally with banks at the moment, I was wondering if you could advise me correctly:

If one of my checks is returned marked 'insufficient funds,'

how do I know whether that refers to me, or to you?

Sincerely,

A worried customer

The Stimulus Package

Thu, 12 Feb 2009 16:12:40 GMT

I don't think I've ever really written a rant before on this site. And just as I was about to (over healthcare and the crazy, scary things that are hidden about it in the stimulus package proposed by Obama), I re-read the title of my post: the stimulus package.

I couldn't help it.

I'm not sure if it's because it's almost VDay and my mind is full of love; or because I'm taking new supplements to get my hormones centered. But suddenly I was thinking about the only package I wanted to be stimulated by, and his name wasn't Tom Daschle (if you aren't familiar with that name, then you haven't been paying very close attention to the media lately.....go read a newspaper!!!)

Good grief! You'd think I was a 17 year old boy!

I'll start on my rant tomorrow, and call it something else!!

Sorry for the boring post....

Tue, 10 Feb 2009 22:58:41 GMT

Thanks to Obama I haven't had the time to post.

That man has been busy. And it looks like he's going to keep those of us in HR jumping for quite a while. Right now, I'm drafting a memo to go out to all of our subsidiaries about Lilly Ledbetter and how that little piece of legislation is going to effect everything we do. Our entire P & P manual will probably need to be re-written, along with an evaluation of our compensation structure AND our review process. Entire job descriptions will be have to be re-defined, and a formal compensation policy will have to be administered. It makes me tired to think about it.

AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON HEALTH CARE BENEFITS!

Just a quick piece of advice for you all: go see your doctor NOW! Any surgery or procedures you want done: do it NOW! Healthcare is going to change in a big way if the current administration gets it's way...and not all of it will be good.

So xanga for me has fallen by the wayside.

Here are a couple of thoughts:

1. I'm ready for summer. I wanted to surf this past weekend, but it was just too damn cold...even with a wetsuit. I'm too damn old to be that damn cold!

2. On another note: since being so cold over the weekend, our crazy Texas winter has now decided to warm up. The humidity is so high that my hair now has gone into "Chia Pet" mode. I don't normally expect that type of behavior from my locks until late May.

3. After suffering through several months of mind-numbing hot flashes, I gave in and started taking Damiana Herbal supplements. I'm shocked that they work. I took them on the advice of my friend Alexa, the naturopath doctor.

4. I'm also taking Horney Goat Weed.

5. Yes, you read that right. Apparently, it also helps because I've never felt this....alive.

6. And yes, I think I'm too young to actually be going thru pre-menopause, but my body has other ideas.

7. I'm doing some home improvements to my little beach shack, but the island of Galveston is still pretty much a disaster area. Everyone on the outside has forgotten. Or maybe it has just became too much to think about after the disaster of Katrina.

8. Turbo Tax ROCKS!!

9. ...and so does getting a refund!

10. Now that I'm no longer married to a wealthy man, all the tax laws are working in my favor. I'm actually thinking about becoming a Democrat! hee

11. I want to go someplace warm. I'm thinking Costa Rica (been there) or the Dominican Republic.

12. On the other hand, Vegas might be a quick fix for my wanderlust. A good way to spend that hard-earned tax refund.....

13. I turn 46 on the 25th. And I don't even really care. I can't wait to be 50. Maybe, by then, menopause will be over.