Unfortunate Employment

      One of my friends just opened my eyes up to what is probably hands down, the worst winter job ever. I'm ashamed to say, that I hadn't even considered it when thinking of the least tempting trades to take on during this snowy season. Yes, I have thought of this before, yearly even. They're everywhere you look! Next time you pull in to your local lube station(for an oil change gutter brain) and ask for the full service(yes, we're still talking about auto maintenance here) think about that poor man in the pit having to wade through the mud and muck caked to your chassis while ensuring that your vehicle acquires the attention necessary for its prime performance. He's down there braving all of the usual grease and grime that comes standard with the trade, but now he has the added bonus of ducking and dodging the 20 pounds ice glaciers migrating south from your wheel wells.  Without the safety of a hard hat or at least the wetness protection of a poncho I might add! Eye-opening. As bad as this position is (and it's pretty bad) there is more than one "less than jolly" job to hold this time of year. Let's give a virtual toast to all of those who most deserve atleast a swig of spiked egg nog this holiday season.
     Cheers to the cheery gift wrapper girl manning the paper station.  All of the handy work you spend literally minutes on producing for our lazy butts, will last milliseconds at the most in the hands of the eager receiver I plan on giving it to, yet you somehow put the same pride into each package that you produce. On top of that, you do it sans any warm beverages or Hallmark movies to motivate the Christmas mood. I (and anyone else getting a gift from me that doesn't look like a dog wrapped it) thank you!
     You too, polite pedicurist with a "walk-ins welcome" policy on your centrally located mall station. Your choice of high traffic prime real estate practically guarantees that you will encounter us wearing our sweaty winter boots with heavy wool socks. Stylish to wear, smelly to share. You are a fearless warrior laughing in the face of the dreaded winter feet and taking them from frightening to fancy in one short visit while we relax. We all thank you!
     Probably one of the most deserving of some "Christmas Cheer", is the poor Hickory Farm sample tray circulator. You stand in font of your beautifully displayed party tray providing paradise and brave the massive hoard of holiday shoppers looking for a "free" anything. With that complimentary price on your summer sausage filled platter, I will turn that "please take one" suggestion and interpret it as an invite to an all you can eat buffet with crackers on the side. I know you dread spotting me in the crowd and I (like most patrons) rarely purchase after "tasting", but you still let me use and abuse your generosity. Thank you for the yearly free lunch!
     It's surely the season for giving and appreciating and I wish I could give more to those that appreciate it. But alI I can do is acknowledge that you deserve to be thanked and recognized for your contribution to the Christmas season. If we lived in more liberal times I would deliver libations to each of you. It's definitely the thought that counts though, so know that I (and the tens of people reading this) are thinking of you today. Cheers!

Nightmare Before Christmas: Friday The 13th

    It's Friday the 13th! This is a creepily "unlucky" occasion that should only come around in the month of October. Am I right? We're supposed to be nestled all snug in our beds while visions of sugarplums dance in our heads. Not thoughts of some psycho freaky Jason out roaming the darkness and planning our immediate demise from which there is no escape! It just doesn't scream holiday cheer the same way an Elf like movie can(or maybe it does, I don't know your life). Call me crazy! But maybe there is a way to mix the two completely opposite holiday seasons Nightmare Before Christmas style(maybe not too, this could be a disaster).
  What if Elf on a Shelf...you know...actually did what the book says? Some tiny little man with a silly name and creepy perma-grin glued on his face spends all day watching every move you make. Judging you! Like one of those spooky pictures in a haunted house whose eyes only move when you're not looking. All the while taking mental notes and holding all the power as to which list you end up on? Naughty or nice? Then at night when we have slipped off to a peacefully clueless slumber, "Sid" stands up from whatever post he's taken that day and flies! Just thinking about it gives me the creeps and makes me feel a lot better about "misplacing" that little bastard this year. Worst narc ever.
    Then there are the Christmas carolers. This seemingly harmless bunch just want to stand and your porch uninvited and share the holiday spirit through song. Joyous!  Imagine though, if we mixed the two holidays and this tradition was done wearing Halloween costumes instead of festive robes with muffs. Answering the door to a group of zombie or Hannibal Lector impersonators singing "He sees you when your sleeping" will send you back to the days of a nightlight quicker than you can say "Happy Holidays". There is no amount of spiked egg nog that can make that any less creepy. The two don't mix!
     It doesn't take much imagination to turn The grinch into a horror story. He's pretty much there (for the first 3/4 of the tale anyway). Some Sesame Street looking castaway living in the Hills Bigfoot style. Just waiting and watching the joy build up enough so that you least expect the home invasion he will later spring on your perfectly festive home! He'll take the presents. Yes, he'll take the tree. But worst of all, he takes the entire feast right down to the roast beast. No holiday leftovers?? Nightmare of epic proportions, I say!
     Without a doubt, a December Friday the 13th just doesn't belong. Now is no time for thoughts of the scary or sleep depriving nightmares of creepy puppets!  I propose that I n the event that this happens again during the holiday season, we just call it the umpteenth. December umpteenth, the day we pretend it's not what it is and go on our "Merry" way sharing some Christmas "cheer" with our family and friends. Much better!

Just Another Day In Paradise

     Have you ever heard the saying, "I asked for patience and was given more chances to be patient"? Well, yesterday was a day full to the brim of just those chances. Not only that, but chances to choose what chances to be patient take priority over the next ones! Mom skills a plenty all working together in one big cluster of nutty fudge!
     Standing out above the rest though, is when I put my coffee in the microwave hoping to reheat the French vanilla flavored beverage, only to hear a panicked "MOMMA" coming from the room of my "ever so helpful" toddler. Before I could even push start on the warmer too, which would turn out to be for the best as I would soon find out. No quicker did I reach said bedroom to discover that not only did he figure out how to get his diaper off all by himself, he chose to do so after the result of way too much apple juice had commenced testing the maximum capacity limits of the "seven layers" of dryness Luvs had advertised(they lie by the way), then do I hear an equally urgent "MOM" coming from the room I just left un-scathed. Afraid to take my eyes off of the imminent "contain and clean-up" Hazmat grade disaster laid out in front of me, I yell in my most shocked and frustrated voice, "whaaaat now?"
"I was just trying to help..." I hear in a guilty whisper. Well, it's never good to get that response from a seven year old(bless his heart) bull in a china closet.
"What does that mean? I'm kind of busy up here!"
"I thought you could use some coffee(poor kid could see his Mommas call for patience from a mile away) and I tried to get it out of the microwave for you." (See why it was a good thing I didn't start it yet?)
   For those of you who haven't been to my house, my microwave is eye level for me and I'm 5'10". So this sweet little boy was about as able to reach this full and lidless cup of joe, as I was able to predict my other son was going to treat his carpet, pants and shoes to a bath of poop soup. Equally impossible. But he did try, and in doing so covered himself, the entire counter, my phone and IPad (pretty impressive really) in a creamed coffee coating! Perfect timing!
    So now, I'm faced with one of those decisions that literally make you feel like peoples lives depend on the choice you make, when the worst case scenario is really just some carpet cleaner, a change of clothes and a revised Christmas list. The call was made(by myself, since these events always seem to coincide with my husbands work trips) to shed the soiled clothes of both and wipe up the "waste". He can run around naked while I assess the damage downstairs, we're all family here. I then closed off one crime scene to attend to the other. No rest for the wicked, they say.
    A few soiled towels, a couple baths and a couple hours later, all was back to "normal" in the Cowan house. Even the electronics seemed to come out of the catastrophe no worse for the wear, surprisingly. Chock it up as another chance taken to prove my patience(or lack of) and a lesson learned to never ask for more again!

Smells Like Success

     During the holiday season, it's sensory overload.  Between the blitz of bright lights adorning every abode to the constant stream of Christmas music coming from every speaker you pass by, it's the most festive time of year. However, out of all the sense stimulators, the smells of the season stand out above the rest. There's the baking of cookies, the fresh pine scent coming from an actual tree(not the kind hanging from your rear view mirror) and candles that smell so much like actual sugar cookies that nobody's wise to the fact you haven't rolled out any real ones in years! Beautiful! I truly feel though, that the candle industry has neglected to address a few major smells that I for one (being of redneck affiliation) would burn down year round, 24/7 style.
      Where is my "Eu de toilette: Auto Parts store"candle? I don't know what it is about the aroma of tire cleaner mixed with Armor All that makes me smile, but there is no other scent that comes to mind quicker when I think of my favorites. It makes me want to throw on some coveralls and spend my afternoon changing my oil like the good old(pre-honda engine that looks like the result of a trash-compactor) days.  Where's that little tree air freshener?
      I would buy a "scent-o-campfire smoke on your clothes" candle in a hot minute. What other smell could bring the essence of the summer season to your living room when it's -45 degrees outside for five months? Thoughts of all the trips taken to the desert down low or mountains up high come to mind and practically demand that an adult beverage be enjoyed! I would breathe in that sweet smell with a beer in hand and reminisce.
    A "bouquet of a burger joint: Rays Tavern"style burner would be worth top dollar in the Utah circuit. I've yet to meet anyone(because I choose not to interact with that type of person) who doesn't just hear the word "Rays" and start salivating like they're lost in the desert and staring at an oasis.  Just thinking about it now makes me want to drive the 60 miles to heaven and satisfy this craving before it turns into an all out grilled beef patty obsession. If you could just light a wick in your kitchen and insight that type of reflexive response, what's not to love? Instant road trip inspiration!
     If it was possible, the biggest purchase of perfumed wick burners for women like me would be the "whiff of a working man". The scent of a man devoid of any axe type body sprays or overpowering colognes is a pheromone the market has yet to monopolize on. Not all females like their significant others to smell as if they are attending their first high school dance and have to cover the stench of their nervous sweat with a gallon of knockout gas. The just finished a shift working hard to support a family coupled with the bold aroma of confidence and a hint of Old Spice deodorant is the sexiest smell ever to emanate from anything, ever.  Put that on a shelf and I dare say we could watch it sell out faster than any of its Pumpkin spice scented competitors. Get on it Glade!
    There's is no doubt that if I was in a position of influence to the scented candled industry, the line-up would house aromas never before considered by some scientist in a lab coat. Gone would be the island breeze or banana cream and in would come the Corona with Lime and ATV ride through the Cedar trees. Don't mind me, I'm just over here making the world a better place one step at a time.

50th Special Edition Countdown

      Break out the champagne or Memosas, it's time to celebrate! I've hit a milestone in my life! It's the big 5-0 for me(no not years, I've got a few miles left before I cross that bridge). Today is my 50th blog entry! Time flies when your having fun right? It's like the midlife crisis of my blog life. Maybe I should go buy it a corvette and get its ear pierced. Pick up some "cool clothes" and find it a younger girlfriend. I'll probably just choose some of the best moments from the last 50 entries though. Cue the wavy line, harp playing Wayne's World style flashback as we countdown the top 5 entries thus far!
#5:Well I Was Born In A Small Town.  (Within three readers of both Hunger Games:Women Edition and Hair Raising Detail) this was one of the funnest posts to write and one of the most reflective when referring to how "small town" I really am. I'm like my own country song minus any "being drunk the day my mom got out of prison" type experiences(David Allen Coe kiddos, look it up). I love every dirt road driving, shotgun shooting, buck spotting and sunset gazing aspect of my lifestyle. So when writing about that part of my personality(really the main part), I had "more fun than a tornado at a trailer park". My only hope is that I didn't make it sound too good and convince anyone that already doesn't live here to now do so. Admire from afar people or I'll just have to move to get away from the "city".
#4: No Balls. Shall we say, controversial? This entry received more "anonymous" angry messages than any other to date. I guess people either don't like my thought that we are slowly turning our kids into glass figurines with no ability to handle difficult social situations(which they will face every day regardless of covering them in bubble wrap) or my clever play with the word "balls". Obviously not my target niche. Funnest post ever!
#3: Birds With An Attitude And Their Little Pigs Too. It's the third most popular post that I've written and the first most annoying aspect of my daily life. If it wasn't for needing it to write this thing everyday(and Facebook), I would throw this IPad in a river and watch it sink slowly down taking all eight of the Angry Birds apps that it harbors right along with it. Then I would toast to the death of those little bastards and never speak of them again. Hope that I never run into you in a dark alley app creators(disclaimer: all threats on any app creators safety are purely fictional and used to demonstrate my frustrations in the addictive nature of said game on my son and in turn my life 24/7).
#2: Politics, Religion and Her. Call this one my answer to the criticism of my topic choices. At the time, I was receiving daily "helpful suggestions" from a person who repeatedly chose to remain nameless about the content(or lack of) in my musings. They have since stopped and to be honest, I miss sharing that back and forth banter with my very own Jane/John Doe. Where else can I get called a "heathen" or be accused of disrespecting religion? It's left a void in my soul that nothing can fill! Maybe they have just found a better use for their time and attention, like doing literally anything else. Dammit, now I have that song in my head, "talk about anything. But politics, religion and her..." now you do too!
#1:Knocked out by the knocked up. This was by far my most popular post based on the shear number of readers and page shares alone and it wasn't even my idea for a topic! All the thanks for this hormonally unbalanced entry goes to Heele Mascaro. For my 30th post, I decided to choose the topic from the suggestions of all those reading them and this one screamed out "pick me for all the pregos"! Plus, I had over 18 months of personal experience to relate to. Who doesn't want to make the world a better place for those bearing children? I know I do and I hope that in a small way, I did if just by saving one woman from one insensitive "size based" comment alone.
Yes, we've laughed, we've cried and I truly feel like we've really grown together as a group through facing our shared inner demons ...or just laughing at our own expense. Cheers and here's to many more!

Poor Kids of Progress

      Last night, I watched my seven year old son finish reading an actual chapter book that only took him two days to read(yes I'm bragging, don't judge me). This is a kid that lives and breathes for the App Store, so to see him use his hands to turn pages instead of slide them and read me lines from this "awesome" story instead of filling me in on every move he has made in the last five minutes of Angry birds was like spotting Big Foot in person! Rare to say the least! It's just not as common anymore to see kids carrying books around and spending quiet time lost in a literary world of wonder instead of a virtual one. Once again I found myself thinking about how different his childhood is from the one that I got to live. There's no comparison! I feel sorry for the kid(thought that was going somewhere else didn't you).Growing up in the 80's and 90's dream decades was an experience I wouldn't trade for all the MP3s, USBs or PS3s(I'm aware that's out of date, but it rhymes) in the modern world. There are so many things we did back then that he'll probably never do.
     We used to start a new club every week! We would think of some awesome name like like "The kids of Carson Avenue" or "Barbie Doll Players"(super creative I know) and start organizing what was sure to be the most sought after group to belong to in all of the three mile radius! You had to find members (you and your best friend) and pick a head quarters. Ours was usually my Dads hat room in the basement (the man has like 3,000 hats). It was close enough to my parents candy cupboard to keep the snacks stocked aplenty and far enough away from prying ears to be able to talk about "secret stuff". Very important in the life of an 7-11 year old kid.
      What about night games! There wasn't an evening that if it was warm enough when those street lights went on, we weren't out living it up small town style! You knew every kid and which ones you wanted on your team for which games. Capture the flag called for those with speed and cat like agility to keep from getting caught, while hide and seek or sardines were more suited for the ones who knew how to go over a minute without talking(not my strong suit). Everybody played until enough moms had stood on their porches calling the players home.
       You sat down and watched shows as a family, mainly because most households had only one television instead of 3 or more. Whether it was the lineup you waited for all week on TGIF(Family Matters, Full House, Americas Funniest home Videos) or waking up the next morning for Saturday morning cartoons(Looney Tunes, Scooby Doo, DuckTales, etc.), you watched them together without a thought that one day you would see these same shows duplicated a million times over and be able to skip the commercials on your private DVR.  Now we have 5 T.V.s in our house and at any given time, at least three of them are on. There's only four of us living here!
       These kids will never wake up on their birthday to a shiny new Sony Walkman waiting for them and spend all day rollerblading around town wearing said Walkman and listening to a Nirvana tape(never understanding a single thing they're talking about). Those two things were a constant part of my wardrobe for at least 5 years of my life and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't still wish I had kept both. Although my niece did get a pair of rollerblades last Christmas, so all is not lost for our future generation....still waiting for tapes to make a comeback though.
       The movies that were made during that time are eternally entertaining! I have yet to see anything come close to touching the cinematic icons like ET, the Karate Kid, Goonies, Big, Indiana Jones or the Great Outdoors. Yes today's special effects make theirs look like a playtime puppet show, but we didn't care! One word: Ghostbusters. Top that, any movie, ever made, anytime!
       Those were simpler times spent doodling MASH games in our Trapper Keepers planning our future. You ran home in time to see that crazy Zack Morris get in and out of another pickle in all of 22 minutes and then called your friends on a land line number you had memorized(I couldn't call home without my cell now)!  When I tell these things to my son now, I get that same look that I'm sure I gave my parents and I'm sure we're both thinking the same thing at the same time....poor kids don't know what they're missing.

Hunger Games: Women Edition

      It's no secret that women are beautiful, graceful creatures full of love and compassion. However, it's also no mystery that sometimes there can be, how should I put it, a dark side hidden underneath that seemingly soft exterior. We can go from fixing your hair to pulling it out, cuddling you close to cursing your name or singing your praises to the silent treatment faster than you can say "nice shoes!" It's a handle with care type situation that should probably come with a warning label for your own safety. But as bad as we can be to the boys who share our space(or our bedrooms), the trials we throw at each other can make the Hunger Games look like child's play. Amateurs! Here are just a few ways us heroines can act more like villains when you know how to spot the "not-so-subtle" signs of the spiteful.
     There's the "backhanded complimenter". She the one that says "Oh, wow! You really look great...now." Your first thought is nothing deeper than, oh how nice of her to say so. She's so sweet. Then after the initial imprint of the comment sinks deeper, the insinuations rise higher. Well, how the hell did I look before then? Here I was under the impression that all was well in the appearance area when really there was nowhere to go but up. Thank you for your astute observation and for your subtle addition of a single word to burst my beauty bubble. B word.
     We also have the "divide and conqueror".  This is the one who can't enter a group of two or more women(males are exempt for some reason) and simply add to the enjoyment of the experience with their presence. No, they need to first split up said group of gals to place herself in a prime position. She needs to have the say, make the decisions and choose who can participate in this imaginary power struggle. Once you let this lady into your midst, you can spend years repairing the damage left in the wake of her warfare. Just say no!
      The "rain on your parader" is no doubt one to watch out for.  If you have big news to share, she will somehow squash it with her sly methods of downplay. "I got that job I was hoping for!" You scream excitedly hoping for some sign of celebration. "Oh, I heard you were the only one that applied". Really? Where's the love? Would it kill you to smile and muster out a "good for you" type sentiment? Remember what to do if you don't have anything nice to say?
    The "rumor spreader" is an especially dangerous specimen. There is no fact finding or verifying of a particular claims validity in her program. Her M.O. is nothing more than a life sized game of telephone for one. "Oh did you hear Christina's feet smell horrible?" You don't know that to be a true characteristic. Maybe she had been involved in some sort of athletic activity that day or was just wearing thicker socks than the season called for. By your random repeating of this rumor you could have easily ruined flip flop Friday for Christina and in turn, made her have to completely rethink her summer wardrobe. Loose lips sink ships people!
       By far the worst of the maleficent (not fair) maidens, is the "two faced femme fatale".  It's much easier to spot this villain in a batman movie than it is in real life.  She is the one you dig deep with and bear your soul to based on the ingenious way they present themselves as a trusted friend. You tell her your secrets, share your thoughts and dreams, spill some dirt even under the guise of sisterhood when really it's just a ruse. You have no way of knowing that she is just saying she loves your singing voice when really she has been uploading videos of your karaoke "skills" on YouTube to be mocked by the masses. Be careful who you trust (and who you serenade) for your own sake.
      It really is a jungle out there in the world of womanhood. There are dangers everywhere armed with curling irons and curbed consciences. Mean girls isn't just a movie. But have no fear females. Buried behind the vines and quick sand pits, there is a treasure trove full of trusted friends. They're your reward for all the battles fought and won through years of making mistakes (if you have learned from them). Once, you have found your friends for life there's nothing left but to sing out "We are family" Sister Sledge style....and they won't even notice if you can't hit the notes.

Ant vs. Grasshopper

     While I sit here drinking my coffee and watching the snow bury the leaves blanketing my entire yard, I'm cursing myself for once again waiting to long to use the damn leaf blower for 15 minutes and save that weekend in the Spring I will now spend digging that soggy mess out of the gravel.  This is nothing new, I am the queen of procrastinating. Wait to buy the new gallon of milk until I have talked my son into eating a bowl of dry Captain Crunch like it's popcorn, putting off filling up my gas tank until the drive to the station may easily end with my having to push the truck the final 40 feet(yes I know it's just as easy to keep the top half full as it is the bottom, but where is the adventure in that) and I'm always the crazy lady buying/wrapping Christmas presents on the eve of the holiday itself. But I'm not without ambition to better myself and turn around my lazy ways. I have big plans!
      If it were completely up to me, I would have a food storage that would rival a store house with its masses. Yes there's a chance I'll never need it, but what if I do? Government collapse(a real one), outbreak of some deadly disease spread by consuming massive amounts of fast food or a Zombie Apocalypse that forces us to hole up in the garage and live it out hermit style. Nothing's impossible right? If nothing else, I could take the place of the local grocer and people would come for miles to trade or barter for a bag of beans. Show me the goods!
      Along with the cache of canned goods, I would have a medicine cabinet that could double as a pharmacy. From heartburn to heart breaks, stuffy nose to "stuffed to full of frankfurters", I'll have the prevention, the treatment and the cure. Just call me Dr. Mom.  Then on mornings like this one, when I wake up expecting a normal Tuesday only to discover some mystery rash has taken over my seven year olds skin, I would have every form of Benadryl to have ever sat on a store shelf and wouldn't have to convince him to swallow the boring adult medicine in pill form. "It doesn't even taste like grape!" Where were you with your spoon full of sugar on that one Poppins? Unprepared!
      Yes, if I was a wiser woman(or at least one with a higher inclination for preparation), I would do the work now to save twice as much later. I would write a list of things I'm out of for when they're needed again and I would have that Christmas tree with presents to shake and sniff for weeks before the big day instead of minutes. I would be more like the ant and less like grasshopper. Then again, that grasshopper does have way more fun during the summer season....good thing the super store is open 24 hours.

The Sights, The Sounds, The.....

     Driving home from a weekend getaway in "Sunny and 65" Mesquite, Nevada headed home to a depressing 22 degree Price, Utah, I realized that I have neglected to address a major experience that we have all faced at least once in our lifetime(or many more times depending on your drinking habits). It's the routine visit to a truck stop restroom. I know this is usually the kind of conversation better kept behind closed doors for those of you with more class than I carry, but I have the tendency to discuss the distasteful. It's a road hazard twice as common as any other traveling trouble. Plus, it's unavoidable! When given the choice between staring down the barrel of a "No service for the next 110 miles" sign after you've downed a big gulp or braving the trenches of a truck stop toilet, you'll brave that bathroom every time. Well, Saturday afternoon I found myself in that exact situation, making that same decision and the experience was exactly what I would have expected.
     For starters, there's nothing worse than opening a door to the terrible unknown and finding out that your immediate future will be spent spending an uncomfortable 10+ minute wait in the worst of lines. "Should I wait? Maybe I'll just leave. Maybe that sign is old and there's really a nicer establishment down the road with the kind of hygienic facilities a travelers dreams are made of....ah dammit, no such place exists. Fine!" So you settle in for the most awkward, eye contact avoiding, pretend everything is falling on deaf hears, people watching event you'll ever put yourself though on purpose. For an overly observant person like myself, it's a nightmare of epic proportions.
     It never fails that I have to wait next to the woman who never misses a chance to crack a joke or start up some discussion all while pretending it's completely normal to introduce herself to strangers standing next to the paper towel dispenser. What about this forced sharing of the most private of processes makes you think That I not only want to know, but I care about your Uncles ex-Wife who's also the Mayors Sister? Your need to vent is clashing with my need to get back on the road lady! Put up or shut up...preferably both.
    Then there is the woman talking on her cell at a volume even the astronauts in space can listen in on. She is completely fine with the whole world(or the twelve other women in the room including small talk Sally) getting a play by play of her recent trip to the "girly doctor". The only good thing that comes from encountering this lady in the lavatory, is gaining the knowledge not to use the same one that she does. Thanks for the tip Tina! Now please hang up the phone and finish this step in silence.
      The front of the line is inevitably occupied by the old woman who lived in a shoe and all 18 of her children too! Pro: knowing that the only stall she's going to seize up is the handicap one due to the sheer size of her "party" alone. Less options for her equals more options for me! Con: having one of said 18 tots poke their head under my stall of secrecy. Uncomfortable!
     Finally, I spot (like I always do with my loathsome luck in lavatories)the last person you want to see doing the last thing you want to see them doing. It's the convenience clerk ignoring the flashing neon "Employees must was hands" beacon while doing the walk of shame from her stall to the exit sign. Add that to the list of reasons why gas station sushi is never a good idea.
      Walking outside after that stifling scene of un-sanitation and out into the fresh Utah air is the most freeing feeling I'm sure one can ever experience(short of escaping a prison type situation or finishing up your shift at the shit farm). On that short trip back to the truck, I'm anticipating seeing the familiar faces and all of that thought provoking adult conversation I'm going to enjoy once I step inside that clean cab. Refreshed and reseated I turn to my seven year old son in time to hear "Hey Mom, drop a load?" Ah...high hopes.