Good, Better, Best. Never Let It Rest.

Just heard this saying on the TV that my dad always used to use.

Good, Better, Best. Never let it rest.
'Til your good is better and your
better is best.

It's another one of those phrases I thought he made up, just like I thought he wrote "Me and Bobby McGee," since he always sang that song in the shower, but only sang the first few lyrics, "Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waitin' for a train."

Still not sure who said this quote first, but it always reminds me of my dad.

This is Just to Say

I just heard a "This American Life" episode that talks about people saying they're sorry, but not really being sorry, and this poem, "This is Just to Say," by William Carlos Williams:

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Apparently, there are many, many spoofs of this poem - and "This American Life" contributors each tried their hand at it.

Here's my take:

This is just to say

I made you
go last
in Chinese
jumprope

which probably
made you
feel
unimportant

Forgive me
that was cruel
but you were so eager
and I so willing

Another:

This is Just to Say

I have filed
a complaint
with the
regional branch

a move
which I'm guessing
you didn't
expect

Forgive me
your service was atrocious
so unreliable
and so unsound

My Heart's Home is On the Plains

The sun sets over mountains, but somewhere over the next ridge, she works on.

Over the plains, she meets the horizon, all orange, afire, glowing, and knows exactly when her day is through.

Wind rustles the aspen leaves, and all is silent, except the earth's syncopated breath through the trees with its stop, start, stop rhythm.

Breezes that create waves of wheat on flat land howl, whistle, constantly calling out as if lonesome in the expanse. The soft, low hiss bumps up against vastness, no steep hills to interrupt.

Deer and elk wander into the yard, but here they do not play with the antelope, and I want to see that spot where the sun meets the earth, where grass rolls endlessly on.

My house is in the mountains, but my heart's home is on the plains.

H & R Block...Heads

Never, I repeat, never go to H & R Block to get your taxes done. I have heard nothing but bad things from everyone I've talked to about this company, but of course, only after I had committed to getting my taxes done there.

My dad often refers to a stupidity tax when you buy something really dumb that you didn't need and/or it turns out to be worthless. Well, this was a stupidity tax on my taxes. Taxes on taxes. Could anything be worse?

After two hours spent over lunch time a few weeks ago with the resident genius at H & R Block in Evergreen (I'll show some mercy and not call him by his name), we spent another hour tonight, only to have him screw up our taxes more than if I had done them myself.

In our first meeting, he tried to tell me that I should be paying New York income tax because my company that is based in New York, even though I work from home in Colorado - and he said I shouldn't be paying Colorado income tax.

Most people would say: Hmmm, that doesn't seem to make any sense, since I don't drive on New York's roads, send my non-existent kids to their schools, or do anything else in that state. This is exactly what I told him. After tearing my hair out on the verge of tears on the way home from this meeting (under his calculations we owed way more than I expected), he finally calls me back to tell me I was right - I should pay in Colorado and get money back from New York. And he does taxes FOR A LIVING.

Tonight's fiasco continues with him telling me that we needed to count our refund from New York state from last year as "income" for this year. WWWWWHHHHAAATTTT? I looked at him like he was from another planet (I think he might actually be). Let me get this straight, the government said the amount of money I paid last year for the amoutn of money I earned was too much. So they gave me a refund. This should count as my income this year? He must be on crack.

Tomorrow, H & R Block's corporate headquarters are getting a call from me for a major a$$ reaming. I want my money back.

Beavers Of Unusual Size

Okay. I realize that sounds really sick. Downright disgusting, for any of you with a dirty mind. And trust me. We made soooo many jokes about this camping this weekend. But that's what Fran and Chad said they saw. Beavers Of Unusual Size. B.O.U.S.'s for any of you Princess Bride fans out t here. Oh yeah. We also saw R.O.U.S.'s too. Rock chuggers or chuckers or something like that. They look like giant rats.

We asked Chad - the super outdoorsmen - if he'd ever eaten beaver. Roaring laughter. He says yes. Tess asks: Was it because you had to or because you liked it? More roaring laughter. We just couldn't help ourselves. It was funny every time.

Needless to say, it was a good weekend. Fun to get away, kick back, read, sip a few brews and bloodies (one too many, one day).

Fran, Tess, Chad, Joy and I all went camping just outside of Kremmling near Gore Pass. We found a great spot, near a roaring creek. But the creek was rushing too fast for Fran and Chad to fish. So, they drove about a mile above up and found this cool little swampish area, where the beavers had dammed up the creek in several spots, creating three different levels with waterfalls at each level. We checked it out tonight before we left and were all amazed by the beaver's home. He seemd to have built a beaver skyscraper, or some sort of apartment building. It was huge.

I always thought beavers ate fish and used the logs they chopped down for their dams. Turns out, I was sorely mistaken. They actually eat the logs - and create the dams so they don't have to get out of the water (all the better to eat you, my dear). Pretty elaborate concoction just to grab a few bites of wood.

One last note: I'll never understand why people have to camp all up in your stuff, when there are millions of other good campsites. Why? Why? Why? Today, just as we were lounging and just beginning to talk about the fact that we had to leave, this giant motor home pulls up, ATVs in tow (sorry, a big pet peeve when you're trying to enjoy peace and quiet) and they park RIGHT NEXT TO OUR SITE. And waited until we packed up. What gives, hillbillies, what gives?

They were nice enough, but sheesh. There's a whole freaking wildnerness. And NO OTHER CAMPERS. Sure, we picked a nice spot. Duh. That's why we got there early. Don't they know: Finders keepers, loosers weepers?