Vegetables are gross.

Ok, I'm trying to be good, recycling as much as is possible here, trying to remember my re-usable grocery bag, and composting. Since the young lady who was picking up our vegetable waste for her own composting project has moved and the folks at the community garden never picked up the slack, I've started taking it home and have started a trench composting project in anticipation of starting a garden next year.
I would just like to say that in twenty years as a soldier and a cop (also drove ambulance for a bit in there) I have NEVER smelled anything as bad as what comes out of that can.

Whhhhooooooohooooooooo, Ruidoso Rocks!!!

Just in case anyone’s been wondering, Joan Jett is still smokin’ hot and rocks better and harder than anyone half her age. Took the crew to her concert tonight and it was amazing. From fifty yards I thought she still looked great, then we rushed the stage and…damn. And the sound was fantastic; none of the bullshit sounds-great-on-the-album-but-not-live, if anything she (and the Blackhearts) sounded better live. It was the best concert I’ve been to in a long damned time.
The only complaints have to be about the length, too short at just over one hour, and the crowd was completely lame. I tried to lead my section into at least getting out of their chairs but only three of my crew followed me…and my daughters cringed. My son didn’t even want to go, said he doesn’t like Joan…I’m having a DNA test first thing Monday, not liking Meatloaf was one thing, but this is bullshit.
Of course, everyone fucking stood up when they did I Love Rock n Roll, she must get sick of that.
Anyway, great night. Joan and Co. rocked like it was 1982 & I got damned close to her; LindZ caught two picks, one tossed by Joan and one by her guitarist and gave me the latter; I almost got in a fight over our seats, which were occupied when we got there; got whisked into WPS (best damned country bar in the USA) ahead of about 30 people like we were rock stars, then one of us got kicked out, so the rest bailed too; then spent the rest of the night back at the Café listening to Renee chew Brett’s ass for God knows what and John gloat ‘cause Crystal was drunker than him for the first time in at least three years.
Tomorrow’s gonna suck.

One Winter's Night on US 75 South.

He stood to one side, watching, as the man strained against the medics, his eyes wide and shocky as they struggled to hold square-foot patches of gauze against his side.
Later, he would come to know that this look was for the dying, this life would be lost before the ambulance even moved. Though he was still young and didn’t recognize the look, he knew upon examining the car and noting the line of blood and shit that ran from the front along the driver’s side to the back fender that this man would die.
A few minutes later he would learn that the man had been picking up his dead dog from the road when he had been hit.