In a Blonde Daze

I have blonde hair. I have never dyed my hair blonde, it is all natural. I don't get offended easily and I must say proudly that I do not feel that I fit the stereotypical blonde. But I must admit that I feel like lately I am in a daze... a Blonde daze...

I painted my nails tonight. I only did it because I felt like I should do something that was girlie. This is after I cut out a pattern for the dress I am about to start sewing, and after I ate ice cream out of the carton. I must say that I am not girlie enough for colored nails. It could just be the fact that the color is nothing short of a shiny purple blue, but I think that it is past this hiatus color choice. I am constantly glancing down at my hands as I am typing because there seems to be something on them, or the keys but no it is just the color is a distraction.

I also finished a book to day. I might have to mention that it was about a oyouknow 7th grade reading level. BUT it was about a girl in college. The problem it was the 3rd in a series and I can't wait for number 4, which is a work in progress at this time. I also finished this journal type of novel in o about 3 days, and one of those I was working. I guess I can't explain the entire book, because it would prove that it was about a sex driven college aged girl that even have graduation from Columbia (in NYC) had no idea what she wanted to do to her life.

I am dazed. My mind is thinking of that stupid letter that is going to determine my future. It is the one with a return address from ASU. It seems to be arriving in everyone's mailbox but my own. So I daze around trying to keep busy not to think of it, not to wonder if I should actually figure a schedule for next year, or if I should just forget the rest of it. Should I sit in the front yard and chase the mailman when he is driving away if I do not have the letter in my hand.

So until I will sit and stay in a blonde daze and yet still not fit into that STINKIN stereotype.

hand it my way

I don't think that I know the back of my hand very well. It has 14 knuckle type of things, a lot of lines and 5 nails. I am not sure where that expression came from. I mean Honestly if you could draw a picture of the back of your hand and have it look even half way as similar you are my new hero, my best friend. I think that is should be something like the scars on my knee. I got them when I was 5 years old. But even though I have had them 5 years less than I have the back of my hand, I could tell you about them a lot better. I know that much more than something that is as detailed as the back of a hand.

I hear someone used that phrase, or maybe it was in one of my beloved country songs but either way.... I know it like I know that back of my hand... Needs to be used when you don't know something rather than when you do.

I am shot for interesting thoughts. Shoot some may way if you have some.

Stuck in a Pit behide the wheel and ready to drive off

A coal mine is the one place that I don't feel like I belong, yet for the second summer in a row I find myself behind the wheel of a 240 ton haul truck. I can't say I am excited, however I can say that I need the money. I use the money to continue my education. I also learn to appreciate that my father as done this job for so many years to make life better for me.
The main reason that I feel like I don't belong here is because I long to be doing something creative. I would rather sit and render 20 drawings a day, or pick materials for an entire complex than sit and think about the road conditions, and if I need to slow down to provide more use on my tire.
It feels like I am stuck in a hole, or should I say a pit with the high walls coming down. There isn't anything that can dig me our except that fact that unlike the men and women that do this for a living, I will be able to go back to school and gain knowledge past how a wheel motor works.
I must say that anyone that can do this job for more than a few months has my up most WOW. I am also glad to know that their are those that will dig up this energy source, even if I complain now, I know that when I am sitting in the truck. It is my job and I will do it with the hopes the of future in the front of my mind.

after the rain

In my hometown we have a bike path that runs with the North Platte River. It is a nice escape for the "city life" and into the nature environment- okay really just nice to see the river rushing by, the trees and allow my dog to run without a lease and not get yelled at for stepping onto a lawn.
The other night when I took Gabby down there for a walk, it had just rained on that side of town. (Interesting fact of Wyoming is that the weather is different in every step, it is very independent of itself) The smell of rain and fresh mowed grass was in the air, the entire time after our embarkment.
It was nice to go for a walk after the rain, once I got over the fact that my feet were numb, and bottom of my pants wet. I was able to see where the clouds had lifted and cleared a crystal sky of blue. There was also a half visable rainbow that a step down from the clouds. It was just a sky of beauty.
The path was wet, but the dirt around it was not the mud it normally is. It seems that all the world just came together.
It was an after the rain walk that lead me to see the beauty around me once again.
The setting sun was present when we finished the loop through the park. Even though Gabby did not enjoy the presence of other dogs, and even when she wanted to turn around half way like she always does, it is something to see how even she seems to appreciate the beauty of it all. The place that glory dwells