Love and Rockets, aly

Best. Holidays. Ever.

The only alligator I've seen so far (left)

In 5 hours, the hus and I are going to complete our stretch of low-key holiday cheer (minus the Superbowl - a party we could actually host this year, with a TV that's finally bigger than a medicine ball - Valentine's Day, and Cary's March madness birthday - when he finally catches up to me and has to cut the ageism) ... We'll be heading downtown to ring in the new year the best way we know how, in a favorite place with plenty of liquids.

We have the game plan - the food, the transportation, the day after - all sorted. 2011 may be an odd year that bothers my even-number preferring self, but after zero travel, zero coordination, delicious holiday food I obviously didn't cook, not a speck of snow, and not a single person around to clean the house for besides our sloth-like selves, the close of 2010 will be quite content if it doesn't end in a swirl of sick. Even so.

It's becoming ritual that we begin the weekend with a cheap meal and a trip to Walmart for the next week's groceries. We also have to look at the entire wall of TVs and their tiny, often incomplete or incorrect spec labels, scanning for deals, and then end up getting stuck in entertaining aisles like flowers, bikes, and end-caps home to squishy pillows and musical cards sung by Hoops & YoYo.

We bumped up our grand night out to Thursday this week. So tonight we could take advantage of the childless New Year's Eves that may not last many more years. I really just couldn't wait any longer to try Taco Bell's new burrito. Seasoned fritos inside. Shit fuck yeah. What other treats will they cook up in the years to come? Will I one day eat M&M nachos with my teenager(s)? Some things never need change though. Like the Special K loaf (er, cottage cheese loaf, depending on what kind of Adventist you are) Cary makes me make even though he now knows perfectly well how to cut, mix and bake the thing.

Side note theory - the clientele at our preferred Bell seems to conduct drug deals with shopping bags from the mall next door.

Side note irritant - Publix, our only hope for veggie meat chili and soyameat for the darn loaf doesn't carry either. I'm a little disappointed the pastor here didn't know where exactly to buy canned veggie meat. Shouldn't that be mandatory for ordain-ation?

FoodPoisoningSigns.info

Hmm, canned meat. Now that doesn't sound so good. Some people like saying, you know, soy meat products are really high in sodium... Thanks. Did you know the CDC reports 9,000 people die every year from food poisoning, which typically involves MEAT... I like meat too though. But here we go: it's good when pilots have high enough blood pressure to keep blood in their brain when they're pulling Gs. So yay, we have an argument. So we special ordered our favorite sodium-filled fake meat - side note of happiness.

To reward the people who have read my blog this year, even just scanned its words and photos beyond tweets and Facebook albums, below is what happens when your aviator husband comes home with all his flight gear; he wants to do a photo shoot. Okay, I know, that's not really a reward - and I'm the one who really wanted to take the pictures.

But there will also be a Lady Gaga-esque Side of Honeydew surprise early in 2011. Stay tuned. (Maybe suck it up and physically follow or share me. Keep commenting - let me know what you want to see next year: title change? (still don't get it?) less about writing? more about marketing? more about sex? lies? videotape?) The unveiling will rock your world. Or just mine. Sorry again. But that's what blogging and reading blogs is all about. Selfishly-oriented observations about life for anyone willing to click, read and hopefully learn and relate - the honest to God good goal of writing.

She packed my bags last night pre-flight
Zero hour nine a.m.
And I'm gonna be high as a kite by then
I miss the earth so much I miss my wife dog
It's lonely out in space
On such a timeless flight

And I think it's gonna be a long, long time
Til touch down brings me round again to find
I'm not the man they think I am at home
Oh no no no I'm a rocket man
Rocket man burning out his fuse up here alone

Mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kids
In fact it's cold as hell
And there's no one there to raise them if you did
And all this science I don't understand
It's just my job five days a week
A rocket man, a rocket man

And I think it's gonna be a long long time...


Love and rockets,
Aly