I’m pretty good at pattern recognition.

Case in point: for years I’ve been documenting my struggles with getting in that morning cup of coffee.

BEHOLD:

This morning's bonehead moment (brought to you by not enough coffee): preparing the egg batter for French toast, I crack the first egg. I totally meant to crack the egg, empty it into the bowl, and put the shell in the garbage disposal. Instead, I cracked it, emptied it into the disposal and threw the shell in after it. You're welcome for the laugh at my expense.

____

Jan 22, 2013

For the love of all that is holy, Angie...STOP TRYING TO SWEETEN YOUR WATER WITH SPLENDA. The truly sad thing? I’ve been up since 6:15 and have probably consumed half a pot of coffee already.

____

Jul 5, 2013

I nearly poured milk into my glass of water instead of pouring it into my delicious, delicious coffee. I should probably chug said coffee and wake my ass up.

____

Jul 24, 2013

Aaaaand guess which super under-caffeinated chick just poured milk in her water glass, right in front of a coworker (who proceeded to laugh hysterically)?

COOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.....

____

Mar 18, 2014

In this corner, the challenger ANGIEEEE!!! (the crowd cheers)

Her opponent, undefeated for two weeks...the TRAVEL COFFEE MUG! (the crowd boos)

Let’s see if Angie’s up for the challenge...

(the crowd watches as Angie adds Splenda to the mug)

Oooh! She’s taking the “coffee pouring does the stirring for you” angle. Let’s see how that works out for her.

(the crowd watches as Angie pulls the water jug out of the fridge and pours it into the mug, stops, shakes her head, and empties the mug contents into the sink)

Man, she almost had that one. Join us tomorrow morning to find out if Angie will EVER learn how to make her coffee without the help of MORE COFFEE!

____

May 5, 2014

Epic coffee-pouring battle round 2:

Angie pulls out a travel mug. It’s boyfriend’s. Ooops! Oh well, too late now. I touched the mug, it’s mine for today.

I pour the Splenda in the mug. Great so far...

I open the fridge, grab what I think is milk.... and pour nice cold filtered water in the mug!

See? I need caffeine in order to POUR MYSELF CAFFEINE.

____

Feb 19, 2015

Things that happen pre caffeine:

Stop at gas station. Pick pump and complete transaction. Realize you selected the wrong pump. Start and move car to correct pump. Feel like a dumbass.

Aaaaaaaand coffee.

____

May 3, 2016

It puts the lotion on its....

Toothbrush?

Jesus Angie, you’re losing it.

Time for coffee!

____

Apr 23, 2017

Today I got in the shower with my glasses on and briefly wondered why I couldn’t see.

I blame coffee. Or lack thereof.

____

Oct 9, 2020

Hey, how’s your Friday?

Mine started with me almost pouring ground coffee into the water reservoir of my coffee maker, instead of into the coffee basket. Thankfully I caught myself just short of disaster.

____

Jun 29, 2021

On today’s episode of “Angie attempts to make coffee,” our daring heroine grinds the beans, boils the water for the French press.

Goes about her business, completely forgetting to put hot water INTO said French press. Boils water again.

Will she ever learn the art of preparing morning caffeine without first having caffeine? Stay tuned for the next epic adventure when we return with “Angie attempts to make coffee.”

____

Jul 28, 2021

The joy of cats: a play in two acts.

Act one: Angie is pouring herself coffee, hears strange noises. Sees Stella in the bedroom, in a life-or-death battle with the rug.

“Stop attacking the damn carpet!” Angie shrieks. Stella bolts. End scene.

Act two: Angie opens the front door of the Airbnb, to let in more light as is her custom. She peers through the double-paned glass of the storm door to spot... is that... is that a dead bird?

Jesus, one of the ferals brought me freaking bird. Ew. Ew. Ew. Angie disposes of the unwanted feline gift, and damn near scrubs the skin off her hands. End scene

____

Apr 12, 2022

I super DON’T recommend violently sneezing while holding a coffee mug.

____

May 8, 2022

I just spent half an hour trying to find my favorite coffee mug that I got in New Orleans.

I mean I went full search-and-rescue, retracing my steps all around the complex yesterday. I checked the cabinets, drawers, closets. I hopefully pawed through the fridge, washer and dryer, and even the freezer.

I had just given it up as stolen by faeries when I went to reheat my now cold coffee (in my host’s boring ass mug). Guess where mine was?

In the microwave.

Brain, we gotta get better at coordinating our sharing of information, yo.

How does one even end a compilation such as this?

I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to celebrate my fails with more coffee…

Leave a comment

Like, adrenaline junkie LITE. I ain’t over here doing motocross off a cliff.

But some things I will do in a heartbeat, like last summer when I met up with a high school friend I hadn’t seen in 20+ years to go ride roller coasters at Fiesta Texas.

Highly recommend doing a ride or two, cooling down in the beer hall, another ride or two, rinse and repeat until ready to leave.

ANYWAY

I like doing things that make my body wonder if we’re about to die, like that time I took my ex-boyfriend bungee jumping for his birthday.

I found the company after an extensive online search, stalked their reviews, decided it was The One™.

Booked a date, paid the fee.

The adventure began with cryptic instructions… the confirmation email informed me they’d share the city the Wednesday prior to the jump, and the meeting location the day before.

OK, mysterious but whatever.

Wednesday came and we found out we’d be jumping in Lake Oroville, CA. The ex and I booked a hotel room for Friday night, and at 4:30am Saturday we were heading out to meet the bungee group at a random address in the middle of nowhere.

I was slightly uneasy about meeting in the middle of nowhere in the dark (at this point, Angie? Have you no survival instincts?) so I texted my best friend the address in case we disappeared. At least someone would know where to look!

We gathered in the dark, a couple blocks down from the bridge. It was raining, so we all sat in our cars kinda checking each other out until one tall person stepped into the headlights.

This was the leader, and he informed us that the random address was because while not technically illegal, the locals frowned on it and would shut it down if they caught us.

LOL

The leader gave us the rundown:

Ladies wait here. The menfolk will get all the equipment set up on the catwalk under the bridge, then come back to get you.

Your main job is to STAY OUT OF SIGHT.

(all caps because that was said about a bajillion times by the leader. It will also be relevant later)

We all got to the bridge as it was getting light.

The leader explained how the whole experience would work…

There was no mechanical winch, so we would all work together to pull each person up after each jump.

Everyone would do two jumps, from heaviest to lightest person. Jump 1, get pulled up, jump 2, get pulled up, next person.

We watched as the leader and his assistant carefully laid out the massive elastic cables we’d soon be strapped into.

He yelled to never let the cables touch the ground or drag against anything - wouldn’t want an errant snag to cause a weak spot right before jumping, would we? We definitely handled them with kid gloves from that moment onward.

The leader and assistant bundled the cables and carefully covered them with padding. The whole assembly was then connected to a rubber thingamabob hanging over one of the girders.

Once it was all set up, we paused again to review the process:

1. Get hooked into the 4-point harness and have the connections triple checked by a buddy, the assistant, and the leader.

2. Get hooked into the cables + pulley rope, and have that connection triple checked.

3. Climb over the safety railing of the catwalk while the rest of the group keeps the cables from dragging.

4. If you need to grab something on your way down, try to remember to grab your harness. Grab the cables and you might get a burn or have them snap back in your face.

5. Countdown and JUMP!

6. The group hauls you back to the top with the pulley rope.

7. Get back out on the girder, jump again, get pulled back up again, and done.

Quick reminder of what we were jumping into:

The first guy to go was a buff black military man in gray sweats with ARMY written across the chest. I remember him distinctly because on his first jump, he just kinda… stiff-legged it, falling backward in an “Attention” salute (for lack of a better term).

That dude stayed at attention until the bounce, too!

A few more folks went and then it was my turn.

My heart pounding, my body shrieking that death was imminent, I got strapped in, checked, and out onto the girder.

I opted to just lean out until gravity took over.

IT WAS SO MUCH FUN YOU GUYS.

I can’t even describe the exhilaration watching the ground get closer, only to bounce and swing all over the place.

Eventually the bouncing stopped and I got to dangle there, enjoying the early morning views of the dam and lake as my new buddies pulled me back up.

Then I got to the ladder, where I was to pull myself up (with help from the group) and get ready for jump 2.

Me almost at the ladder:

Notice two things:

The ladder on the righthand side of the photo, and the cables on my waist.

It might not be immediately apparent, but there’s no BOTTOM part to that ladder. Nowhere to stand. You just hang out there on arm strength until they finish hoisting the lines over, slowly and carefully.

As I was hanging there, the assistant and leader paused to discuss something.

I’m sure it was just a few seconds, but to me it felt like hours of doing a Cliffhanger impersonation.

I started to P-A-N-I-C.

There would have been absolutely no problem if there’d been something to stand on. But having to hold myself there with upper body strength? Pfffft.

It never occured to me that I was still strapped in. If I lost my grip on the ladder I’d simply repeat the experience I’d just had.

But I could NOT convince my brain that was an acceptable option.

“I’M GOING TO FALL! I CAN’T HOLD ON! I DON’T WANT TO FALL!” I shrieked, scrambling to get myself up onto the catwalk.

The leader tried to calm me down and convince me to go for jump two, but ultimately agreed to pull me up to safety with only one jump done.

As soon as I was back up on the catwalk, the leader started tearing into the assistant. I’m paraphrasing:

“You know those cables weigh north of 200lbs, right? Why did you let them sit there on her abdomen? No wonder she couldn’t hold on… ALWAYS pull the weight of the cables up off the person as they’re waiting.”

Then he asked if I was sure I didn’t want to go again.

One was enough for me at that point, so I went back to my place in line ready to help pull up and cheer on the next person.

By the end we were properly exhausted. I certainly didn’t go into the experience thinking we’d be doing a 3-hour workout with constant rope/body weight pulls, but we definitely got that.

There were at least 3 bloody noses from people who forgot to not grab the cables on the way down.

And we departed the way we came in - the fellas packed up all the gear and took it to the meeting spot while the women waited.

As we were sitting there waiting, out of sight (remember the beginning warning?), some random guy walked onto the bridge, peered over at us, and asked what we were doing down there.

One of my new friends immediately said we were a group of women out on a period walk, and the random guy left without another word.

The guys came back to grab us, and we all went our separate ways.

And the breakfast sandwich I had on that 4-hour drive back? It was the BEST damn breakfast sandwich I ever tasted.

This is a character flaw my family has come to accept about me, and I am grateful I have not been shunned for my sacrilege.

So in case you didn’t know, Star Wars is now Disney intellectual property… it’s also a land in both Disney World (FL) and Disneyland (CA).

I am one of those crazy adult Disney nerds that will not shut up about the theme parks if you get me going.

ALLOW ME TO DEMONSTRATE

So back in 2017, both theme parks were busy building their own versions of Star Wars Land. Since the rides took a couple years to be completed, they placated the super fans with special character experiences.

This will be relevant in a moment.

Remember, I’m not a huge fan. I don’t hate it, I just don’t know who most of the players are beyond Luke/Leia/Chewy/Han Solo/Darth Vader.

So my friends and I (they are fans) visited Hollywood Studios at Disney World, April of 2017.

They were super excited for the character experiences, so we lined up.

First we met Chewbacca, then posed with a new (to me) droid called BB-8.

Cute!

Then we walked into the final room, where some tall dude in all black stood in the corner looking menacing.

“This does not look like Darth Vader,” I thought to myself. I had not seen The Force Awakens, so I had no idea there was a NEW bad guy.

The confusion must have registered on my face, because he zeroed in on me immediately.

There is no other way to put it… he LOOMED in my space. He got all up in my grill and seemed to take pleasure in saying creepy/scary things in his voice-augmented mask.

The friends I was with? Huge Star Wars nerds. They knew exactly who Kylo Ren was, and took extreme pleasure with how he came at me.

He continued to say creepy things even when there was a person between us. I continued to make weird faces at him until some part of me said, “OK no more photos with creepy dude” and I departed.

Bonus picture of my bestie Alix absolutely enjoying the crap out of hugging Chewbacca:

So after my friends got done laughing at me, we went to a Star Wars Dessert Party where we enjoyed snacks, drinks, and a fireworks show.

You’d think that would be the end of it, but no…

About a year and a half later, I wound up going to Disney with my sister, brother-in-law and their kids.

We took pictures with the same characters, and mere minutes after I told the “and then Kylo loomed at me” story, the Kylo actor followed my sister and loomed over her as she bent down to get her bag.

I was too busy laughing to remember to take a picture, so you’ll have to use your imagination.

My advice to you? If you’re allowing yourself to be dragged to a themed event, it’s probably worth brushing up on your characters/lore lest you be mercilessly made fun of for your lack of knowledge.

May the 4th be with you!

I road-get-annoyed. Road-roll-my-eyes. Road-ask-WTF.

Might be because my parents were truck drivers. My dad did long haul/over the road. My mom and stepdad did local routes.

We spent a lot of time on the highways… a tradition I’ve continued long after my folks all retired.

If you don’t know me, hi! I’m Angie. I spent several years as a digital nomad driving from state to state with my cat, Stella (RIP my beautiful void kitty).

I went from Houston to NOLA, up to Memphis, across to Nashville and Asheville. Then down to Charleston, Atlanta, Savannah, Orlando, Pompano Beach and Clearwater FL in year one.

From Houston to Amarillo to Santa Fe to the Four Corners to Flagstaff to Vegas to San Jose to Portland, Salt Lake City, Denver, Louisville, Knoxville, Orlando and back to Houston in year two.

I’ve seen from a trucker’s vantage point and from a little Kia Soul’s vantage point.

And I’ve noticed some clear patterns that have led me to create my rules of the road. They are as follows:

THOU SHALT use thy fucking blinker.

Such an obvious one and yet still underutilized. Other people are not mind readers and do not in fact know what you plan to do next. A signal is a great way to let them know. If you are worried that using your signal means the other person will prevent you from doing what you are trying to do… well, that’s possible. But they also just might let you in. That leads me to:

THOU SHALT allow the crazies plenty of space.

Friend, some folks in a road rage will straight up s h o o t you. If they need to be in front of me that badly, by all means… go ahead of me brotha. I’ll just see them again when we’re stopped together at the very next stoplight, promise.

I remember driving from San Jose CA to Portland OR. At one point, some dude in a little black coupe with one of those car bras and only one working headlight passed me at something like 120. Then he slowed down to 40 and I passed him. In my rearview mirror I saw him stop. HE STOPPED IN THE FUCKING ROAD ON THE HIGHWAY. Then he sped up and passed me, drove at speed for awhile, but ON the lane dividing line.

I have no idea what he was on. Eventually I called 911 to give them a plate and a location, then pulled off to grab lunch and let him get ahead. Because…

THOU SHALT maintain a speed.

Some of y’all are completely unaware of the magic that is cruise control. Very few of you are driving such old cars that you don’t have it… so USE IT! It’s amazing. You can take your foot off the pedal and just focus on watching the road. You don’t have to think about increasing the pedal pressure when going uphill, or letting off going downhill.

I am almost always on cruise control, even for trips into town, if town is more than 15 minutes away. One of my biggest peeves is having to disengage cruise control because everyone’s going different speeds but blocking all available lanes in some demented metallic buffalo herd on wheels.

THOU SHALT NOT play highway tag.

My other peeve is playing highway tag. If you’re not familiar with this one, it’s when someone blows past you at like 95, and then later you (or me, on cruise control at the exact same speed I was before) blow past them doing 55 in the left lane (usually on their phone).

Rinse and repeat for 50 miles, and I’m super aggravated. That’s when I let them win the game of tag by getting ahead of me (see previous rule about giving space). Stopping for gas or lunch or random roadside attractions give them time to get miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilllllles away so I no longer have to deal with their unpredictability.

SPEAKING OF

THOU SHALT commit to the bit.

You might think the road rager or the car bra guy who was clearly on something are the most dangerous. You would not be wrong. HOWEVER a very close third is the tentative driver.

I understand how scary it is to be piloting a quarter-ton death machine through throngs of other death machines, trying NOT to get into a demolition derby. Unfortunately, part of what keeps traffic flowing smoothly is our ability to predict what others will do.

Two of the scariest experiences I had were as a passenger of a hesitant/nervous driver.

One pulled out to the intersection to turn left, stopping in the oncoming traffic lanes as the light turned yellow. Then they sat there blocking traffic while they pondered aloud… do I go? Do I back up? OMG WHAT DO I DO?

No one could navigate around because no one knew what this person was trying to do. Eventually I said, “there’s a break, just go through and get out of the lane.”

Yes they technically ran a red light, but at least they weren’t in the middle of the road playing real-life Frogger.

Another started accelerating up the on ramp… exactly what you should do when merging on the highway. Then they looked over their shoulder at the traffic and SLAMMED to a stop.

On the on ramp. Almost got hit by the people behind us and pushed out into traffic.

My friend, don’t stop in a place that doesn’t have a yield sign, a stop sign, or a red light. Predictability is SO important.

And if you’re that uncomfortable merging onto the highway, take the side streets. There is nothing wrong with taking the route that makes you feel safer and more confident.

Speaking of side streets…

THOU SHALT fill up at a quarter tank.

Trust me.

Two stories from my not-yet-written book, subchapter “That Time I Almost Died” are due to almost running out of gas in the middle of nowhere.

TWICE. A trucker’s daughter! Once in South Carolina in the swampland heading out to Hilton Head. Once in the mountains of Wyoming with literally NOTHING around for miles.

The gas light started blinking on that last one… extra scary since there was no one on the road and it was getting dark. Thankfully both times I was able to coast into a gas station and top off.

THOU SHALT give the big trucks a wide berth.

Several things that most people don’t seem to consciously acknowledge.

You know that feeling of slamming on your brakes at speed, trying to avoid hitting something? And the car does not stop, it just skids until it finally slows down?

That’s in a regular car. Multiply that by at least 10 and you get a big truck. How long do you think it’s going to take THEM to slow down if they have to slam on the brakes?

And to those losers brake-checking big trucks in hopes of an insurance pay out? You’re playing Russian Roulette, friend. Physics says the bigger guy wins, especially at speed.

Lastly, some of y’all never watched that Mythbusters episode where the dummy, Buster, had its head chopped off by flying tire tread peeling off a big truck.

If you had seen that episode, you would NEVER ride alongside a big truck for miles and miles, given that there are 18 wheels (sometimes more!) that could all potentially blow and peel tread at highway speeds.

And we in cars have tiny blind spots, but we’ve all been there… we think the coast is clear and move to change lanes only to get honked at because someone was already there.

Trucks have MUCH bigger blind spots. And again, physics. If they don’t see you and choose to move, they WILL get your space. You may or may not live to tell the tale.

Lastly…

THOU SHALT check thy shit before driving.

Yes, the basics. Tires full? Got the spare and the tools? Lights working? Windshield wipers good? Topped off your blinker fluid? (LOL)

OK… did you check the load, the extras?

I’ve seen all manner of stuff in the middle of the road (in active traffic lanes, causing accidents). A short sampling:

• a full couch

• a barbecue grill

• an extension ladder

• a mechanic’s toolbox (the expensive kind, tall as me with rolly wheel and a bajillion compartments)

• a suitcase and all its contents

• a handful of bricks

And once when driving through the Smoky Mountains, I was coming up on a Prius with two expensive-looking mountain bikes attached to the back. As I got closer, I could see the bikes starting to rattle and wobble… and I knew they would inevitably come loose and fall into the road.

I honked, I flashed my lights. Nothing.

I pulled alongside, gestured, tried to draw their attention to the back of the car.

The driver must have thought I was road raging, because they kept their eyes forward and both hands on the wheel.

I gave up and overtook them… just in time to see one of the bikes fall off, and the second start violently shaking.

I can’t help but wonder what they thought when they got to the next place and noticed both their bikes were gone. Would they realize I was trying to help, or chalk it up to thieves they somehow didn’t notice?

Conclusion

1. I am a very wordy person. I did not expect this to turn out so long, but when a rant needs to come out, it needs to come out.

2. We could all stand to be a bit more observant, a bit more kind, and a bit more careful on the road. I’d rather arrive alive than be “right” and dead.

I’m betting I even missed a thing or two, but this is pretty comprehensive.

Get thee on the road as a newly minted graduate of Angie’s Extra Ranty Driving School™, and let me know how it goes.

It was my second on the Great Walkabout. I think one week into my New Orleans stay, I changed my strategy from driving along the Gulf Cost to hitting up every music town in the southeast.

The day I had to leave NOLA, a snowstorm had hit, and I-55N was a disaster nearly the entire way there. Miles and miles of single-lane only traffic because the left lane hadn’t been plowed.

And I almost got hit by a dude who jumped in the left lane to pass the long line of cars only to hastily cut me off when he realized he was about to hit a police officer standing in front of an accident scene.

Luck was certainly with me - he missed my front bumper by inches.

AND YET

That is not the death of which I speak. And Stella and I did ultimately make it to our AirBnb in Memphis in the Cooper-Young district - an artsy district with lots of great food in walking distance.

Our place was an old craftsman that had been renovated into 3 apartments. So think - old creaky floors and not-great insulation:

I had the one in the middle. And there was this one above, the front apartment, and it had a porch with a porch swing.

One sunny day I messaged the host and asked if the porch was reserved for the front apartment or open to everyone. He responded that it was for the front apartment, but that it would be vacant until Saturday (this was a Wednesday or Thursday if memory serves). As long as it was empty, he said, feel free to sit up there and enjoy.

And enjoy it I did! There’s nothing quite like swinging on a front porch in the shade on a sunny, cool day.

Fast forward to that night - and remember, old house, creaky floors. Even had a closet door that randomly popped open, leading me to theorize there was a ghost and/or portal to Narnia in my Airbnb.

ANYWAY

I’d been chilling out, watching TV and was about ready to go to bed. Then I noticed Stella was intently staring at the door.

It’s a cat person thing. If you know, you know. For everyone else: when the animal is fascinated or staring at something, you pay attention.

I got up and looked outside, went through the house making sure everything was shut and locked, and eventually laid back down.

Shortly after lights out, I started hearing stomping and thudding and what sounded like running and slamming things… coming from the front apartment that was supposed to be empty.

Add to that the fact that Stella was STILL staring at the door and had moved closer to it… and I was sending an “in case I die, go forth and tell my story” message to my best friend.

I got up and locked/barricaded the doors JUST IN CASE. I put a butcher knife on the night stand (self defense staple from the horror movies, amirite?)

Then I set about “comforting” myself by looking up crime stats in Memphis, which only served to freak me out MORE (note to self: don’t do that).

Convinced that the place next door was being ransacked and that I was next, I huddled in bed ready to attack at the slightest hint of B&E… and then woke up the next morning, not dead.

Weird, I thought - but maybe they noticed this one was occupied and got enough from the first one?

That night I finally figured it out - last minute booking + small children.

During my evening TV wind-down, I heard the ruckus again. Only this time I heard a distinctive THUD followed by clear toddler screeching.

And that’s the story of how I’m still alive, and how it was all in my head and I probably shouldn’t listen to true crime podcasts and make up stories about ghosts in the closet when I’m alone at night.

Bonus: Stella during what I started calling “walkies in Memphis,” letting me know she was done by jumping into the window of our place and being sassy:

I have no idea why I’m compelled to do this, but I’m pleased to announce that I’ve arranged a trip to Four Corners for the sole purpose of sitting down and having my ass in four states at the same time.

The heart wants what the heart wants.

Fun fact: 67 responses to that. A shocking amount of people shared my dream, and several told me they were living vicariously through me.

So when I found myself getting ready to head from Santa Fe, NM to Flagstaff, AZ in Feb of 2022… that seemed like the perfect time to stop off.

I must reiterate, if you don’t know about my little walkabout… I had everything I owned + my cat packed into my little Kia Soul. Driving out to the desert and leaving Stella in the car while I parked my ass in four states? Not happening.

Easy… make it a side quest!

Stella and I rolled out from New Mexico one snowy morning and headed north to Cortez, CO. I found a cat-friendly hotel room and may or may not have lead-footed my way there so I’d have plenty of sunlight left upon arrival.

I got us checked in and settled for the night, then after a brief power nap, headed out to live the dream.

En route, I passed the best booze store ever... A drive-thru barn called G Whil Liquors. God I love dad puns.

I digress.

Took me about half an hour to get from Cortez to Four Corners. The best part was the drive in, where I passed miles of barbed wire fences that were absolutely COVERED by tumbleweeds. They looked like fences MADE of tumbleweeds.

But suffice it to say:

Mission accomplished. My butt has officially been in four states at the same time!

Some kind folks saw me plop myself down and take some selfies, and offered to snap a pic of me standing.

It amuses me to no end that almost everyone after me wound up doing the same thing. Birds of a feather!

Having satisfied my life’s mission, I headed back to Cortez. Grabbed some dinner at a local restaurant and went to bed early so I could catch sunrise at Mesa Verde National Park the next morning.

Spectacular, highly recommend.

I spent a little time walking around and appreciating the people who created those amazing cliff dwellings.

Then Stella and I packed up our shit (well, I packed. She supervised) and headed to Flagstaff via Monument Valley… SPECTACULAR.

But that’s a story for another day.

But if you’ve ever tried to put yourself out there (hello all new-to-Substack writers!) you know that getting that ball rolling feels like pushing Indiana Jones’s giant boulder up a mountain.

So we came up with a challenge to keep us accountable - post something you’ve written by 5pm on Friday each week. Miss the deadline and you have to buy everyone in the group something from their Amazon wishlist.

First off, from the moment we started that challenge to when we officially ended it, I never missed a week. Negative reinforcement seems to work wonders for me!

Second, one of my most engaged-with posts comes from a combo of complete and utter boredom and the need to publish something, ANYTHING by deadline.

(It didn’t have to be a particular kind of content. It just had to be something you posted.)

In a fit of inspiration, I decided to write coronavirus haikus, because coronavirus = 5 syllables. So in typical Angie fashion, I had way too much fun.

This post had people writing their own haikus in response, which just tickled me.

For your enjoyment:

Coffee and candy
Are all I really live on
Stupid Corona

I worked from my home
Before all this crap happened
I’m still stir crazy

More coffee needed
Before I can deal with you
And do my job well

My cat thinks I’m God
Nothing much changed on that score
I’m home all the time

Stella loves my lap
But only during meetings
With video on

I coughed on a plane
Last month in San Diego
Almost got beat up

That cough on the plane?
Water went down the wrong pipe
Didn’t matter much

I don’t go out much
But now I can go nowhere
Cabin fever sucks

How can I distract
My partner on his meetings?
Payback is a bitch

Coffee tastes so good
Irish tastes even better
Day drinking is fun

I’m a total pro
I’ve got work pajamas and
regular ones too

Whatever you do
Don’t forget to mute yourself
During bathroom trips

Learn from my mistakes
Turn on video after
You join any call

Best investment yet
Bluetooth headphones let me clean
Which helps me listen

I just realized
I prefer meetings where I
Can also play games

I just now got it
Dogs roll in the grass because
Being inside sucks

Pizza really is
the perfect food at any time
get those mushrooms off

Looks something like this:

Folds up all nice and neat-like, convenient for days I impulsively decide to stop by the park or run down to the beach.

I love it.

I also hate it, because it’s like sleeping bags, paper maps, and a litany of other things that have to be folded JUST SO in order to be able to close it up.

But still - folded or not, I can throw it in the back of my car and GO, which is what I love most about it. That and not getting my ass wet on damp sand or dewy grass.

Sometimes I like to run down to the beach and, depending on where I am, watch the sunrise or the sunset over the waves. One such opportunity arose when I was staying in Savannah, GA.

The locals mentioned Tybee Island over and over again, so one night I made my way out there.

It had been storming most of the day, but the rain had broken and the clouds were slowly parting. In my experience, partially or mostly cloudy days make for spectacular sunsets/sunrises.

In case you doubt me, I submit one of my fave sunrise photos from Jacksonville, FL:

That is not at all retouched, nor did I enhance the colors. And somehow it looked EVEN MORE red in person - absolutely stunning.

I digress.

I was super excited to be visiting Tybee on a cloudy day.

The beach is one of the few places I can quiet my mind, because the sound of wind and waves leaves no space for my thoughts to race all over the damn place.

I grabbed my picnic blanket, took off my shoes, rolled up my pant legs, and strolled out onto the sand.

Mother Nature did not disappoint:

I searched for a suitable place to set out my blanket and watch the colors change. Only I kept hearing this weird sound that seemed to keep following me.

It sounded like (what I imagine) crab legs would sound like… just little clicks, skittering, fast.

I’d turn around and the noise would stop. Nothing was behind me.

Continue on, sound resumes. Clickety clickety, coming from SUPER close.

No matter how far I walked it seemed to stick with me.

And every single time I looked, the noise stopped.

Freaking out, I texted my best friend to let them know something weird was happening, and in case I disappeared it was probably some monster crab/scorpion hybrid that was surely stalking me through the sand.

Or maybe even a herd (herd? Your guess is as good as mine) of crabs in search of a feast, just waiting for me to sit down before springing the attack.

Go forth and tell my story should I vanish into thin air, I lamented to my friend, taking a risk on setting out the blanket and sitting down to face my impending demise.

The noise stopped AGAIN.

I decided whatever would happen would happen, and tried to relax and enjoy the colors fading out over the water. Snapped a few pics like the one above.

Left feeling much more at peace… until the sound started up again.

Instantly my heart started to race. What the fuck is that? Why does it keep following me?

This time I turned just my head, trying to see immediately behind me, especially at my feet.

It was at that moment, I realized that sometimes I’m a friggin’ idiot.

Because I suck at re-folding the blanket in the JUST RIGHT way to have it all neatly contained in its pouch, the rather large tag was sticking out… flapping in the wind with all its might.

That’s right - the noise following me was not in fact millions of crabs.

It was the tag of my poorly folded blanket.

Ay, me.

____

If you like this story and have been meaning to sit down and write your own, but life somehow always gets in the way… I invite you to join me for one of my Writing Roulette workshops. You’ll find the next one here: https://luma.com/founders-recess

Here’s a thing you may not know about me: I like to wing it. Detailed planning and I aren’t always friends.

When I went on my grand walkabout from 2020-2023, I’d lock in the dates, book the Airbnb… then pretty much play the rest by ear.

I remember driving on I-40 West from Flagstaff, AZ en route to Las Vegas. Passing through the desert and mountains, I saw several signs pointing to the exit for the Hoover Dam.

I hadn’t planned on stopping (especially since I had my cat Stella with me - this will be relevant in a minute). But after the 2nd or 3rd sign I thought, “When will you have the chance to do this again?”

My rule: if the answer is, “I don’t know” and the thing is RIGHT HERE, might as well stop and see what’s up.

So I did the thing - nice little break from hours of driving. Stretch the legs, plus see something cool. Yay landmarks!

Also boo, landmarks.

Turns out this is the kind of landmark with a security checkpoint. For some reason that never occurred to me, even though it totally makes sense to protect such an important structure.

Picture it: I drove in with a yowling cat and a car packed full of shit. I’m guessing that I wasn’t the typical visitor… because I saw other cars getting waved forward while I was diverted off to the side by security.

Car full of stuff = additional screening at Hoover Dam. Important thing to know!

Thankfully I had everything packed neatly in a series of clear plastic boxes designed to fit JUST so in my car. They were able to do a quick scan and see the essentials… toiletries, kitchen stuff, office supplies, etc.

UNTIL

They got to the back of my car and saw the ONE opaque plastic container I traveled with.

Do you see where this is going?

Have you put the Stella dots together with the plastic box?

OK I’m gonna just say it…

They zeroed in on her litter box and demanded I pull it out and show them what was inside.

Thankfully I had enough common sense NOT to crack the obvious joke: what goes in that box is NOT the kind of bomb you are looking for.

(Joking of course... It was clean and empty. No way in hell am I driving several hours with a dirty, stinky cat box AND a screaming feline.)

I laughed, which understandably confused them.

“Do you hear her?” I said, waving in the general direction of the front seat, where Stella was noisily protesting the fact that I’d stopped and not let her out.

She always sang the song of her people loudly and proudly on travel days. God, I miss that cat.

As they turned to look toward the front seat, I said, “That’s her box. I’m happy to pull it out if you really need to inspect it. It’s clean and sanitized, but I promise - nothing suspicious in that box aside from a bag of fresh litter and the scoop.”

They glanced at each other, then back at me… then thanked me for my cooperation and told me I was free to proceed.

Some photos for your enjoyment:

And the gremlin that damn near got me arrested for domestic terrorism (I kid, I kid… don’t come for me NSA

), settling into the Vegas Airbnb:

If you like this story and have been meaning to sit down and write your own, but life somehow always gets in the way… I invite you to join me for one of my Writing Roulette workshops. You’ll find the next one here: https://luma.com/founders-recess

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I am not a squeamish person.

I’m also not necessarily a very observant person. Many a time I’ve caught myself in the middle of a particularly gruesome or awesomely disgusting story only to see the person across from me, jaw dropped in horror.

Bodies are dumb and humans are weird, says me. Bodies, people, and life are always doing things you don’t want them to do, so might as well find the humor in it.

I come by that philosophy honestly, and this Substack is an attempt to share the moments that shaped my worldview, as well as appreciate the awesome people I know, love, and am fortunate enough to have in my life.

I’ve had this essay book idea in my head for 4 years

Meet me at an event and you’ll see what my friends call “holding court”. I’m often sharing full-body re-enactments of stories, complete with sound effects, accents, and animated gesticulating. Sometimes it’s on purpose. Most of the time it’s just because the story popped into my head.

At some point I had the thought, “You know, maybe you should write this down?” and pushed it to the side. Gotta work and hustle and make that money, honey… right?

And then one of my favorite story-tellers on the planet, my Aunt Chris, passed away suddenly a few years ago. Diagnosed after going in for a lingering cough, gone in a matter of weeks.

At family reunions she used to hold court, acting out family stories, the exaggerations getting wilder and more creative with every re-telling. I once asked her why she’d decided to go back to school and get a Master’s degree in her 60s, and she replied, “I was going to be 60 whether I had the degree or not. Might as well have the degree!”

When she left, I had the realization… I won’t ever get to hear those stories again. Not the way SHE told them. So now here we are, only a few years after the fact, with my attempt to capture family stories, weird life observations, and really anything else that catches my rather short attention span.

Where the weird ones are?

Most of my life I’ve been told I’m too much. As a result, I shrank and tried to become “normal”. It’s only in the last several years that I’ve begun unlearning all that bullshit and becoming my bizarre, full-body-storytelling, cat obsessed, spontaneous traveling, Disney nerd self.

I am a marketing consultant by trade, but too much of my life has become about what I DO versus who I AM. Someone once said “You’re a human BEing, not a human DOing” - and that’s stuck with me. I don’t want to be another workaholic toiling away for “someday” only to retire and have no identity outside my profession.

Does that seem weird? If so I’m embracing weird.

What to expect

The prompt tells me to tell you what to expect. But honestly I’m just as surprised by what comes out of my mouth (fingers) as anyone listening (reading) is. I have no idea what to promise here, and it feels SUPER premature to offer premium subscription benefits when I can’t even commit to a regular writing schedule. So… we’ll see?

I’ll follow the directions if I can make them fun…

Substack tells me you like pictures. Wisdom tells me a picture is worth 1000 words.

OK Freud, what does this tell you?

Last but not least

Why should you follow me? I dunno, I look like I know the way?