Caterwauling

Pork Parfait!

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

So, OK, I heard a disturbing fact recently that Florida is the second-highest state when it comes to having human trafficking.

If that isn’t bad enough, I’m pretty sure we’ve got the worst children and families system in the country as well, as it always seems like it is Florida where kids go missing the most.

I say all of this not to take away from the deliciousness of my Pork Parfait dinner at the South Florida Fair tonight (dear God, it’s beautiful, although I *almost* got the donut burger instead, but this seemed healthier). But instead, to say that something slightly bizarre happened at the fair out in Royal Palm.

So, this event is huge — probably 129 acres of food booths and one acre of animals and rides. And of course, children will wander away from their parents. (Read: their parents are too pre-occupied with the food booths to notice that their kids wander away.)

A series of announcements came out over the loudspeaker, as children were found with no parents around for miles. First it was Kid 1. Then another was found and it was Kid 1 and Kid 2. Then ANOTHER kid was found, so the parents of Kids 1, 2 and 3 were commanded to come get their kids.

About 10 minutes later, a VERY frantic announcement comes out:

“The woman who took Kids 1 and 2, PLEASE RETURN THEM IMMEDIATELY. All of the parents have shown up and want their children.”

*thunk*

There were no announcements after that.

But holy shit, people can just walk off with two kids if they feel like it?

I don’t mean to imply that the culprit was taking them for trafficking purposes or kidnapping them away from their crazy family. (I sure as hell hope not.)

But I admit, I am NOT going to sleep well tonight, wondering what happened to those two little girls and whether they were reunited with the right families. I pray that it was their real mother who got them the first time around and hopefully they were spared from any harm.

And if I ever have kids before my eggs pass their expiration date, I’m going to lock them in the house till they’re 30. Or at least 18, since I’ll probably be 70 by then and I won’t be able to chase them.

Lake Avenue Bridge

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Headed out again tonight. Last I wrote, I went to a lovely beach bonfire.

Those are going to be held every other weekend, but this weekend, apparently all the new-age junkies all get together and worship the full moon in a drum circle in the same spot as the bonfire.

I don’t know what to expect when I head up to Lake Worth tonight, other than drummers, dancers, fire-spinners and other nuts like me who worship the elements — sand (earth), ocean (water), moon (as sun) (fire) and tasty-delicious salty breezes (air).

I hope I can find some time to hit the bonfire next weekend. I do so very much love free events.

Speaking of escaping donations, I’m going to skip church tomorrow, but not because I’m taking part of some holy heathen ceremony tonight.

< diatribe >

(The pastor was on a tear last week about all of us who yap about our horoscopes on Facebook — how that’s such a slap in God’s face. Fine, I unsubscribed from my horoscope, but I’m not giving up worshiping Mother Earth, yo. I need all the good karma I can get.)

< / diatribe >

Anyway, in a move that will cost about 40 times that of the weekly check in the offering at church, I figured I’d hit the South Florida Fair, as it will be the last day and all.

Sidenote: I still get such a kick out of attending things like festivals and fairs in 80-degree January weather. It’s just marvelous. It’s 11 degrees in D.C. (I’m sorry, guys — I have to count my blessings.)

However, I am slightly bummed that I won’t see my man at church, though. Perhaps he will miss me.

Anyway, speaking of wasting time, I spent today in very expensive neighborhoods, and I have such a hard time coming to terms with the gaping void between the “haves” and “have nots.”

Particularly as I passed Anna Kournikova’s house, where she allegedly left her 5-year-old alone for an hour and the kid supposedly fell out of a window and into their pool, I just could do little but scratch my head as I drove my beat-up jalopy through the neighborhoods with 20-foot-tall, square hedges that shield their multimillion-dollar homes from the likes of me.

I’ll spare the “couldn’t afford a babysitter?” bit, but suffice it to say, I feel like I’m being so greedy and terrible that I spend so much on rent when I’m sure most of the residents in Palm Beach County — at least, where I was today — probably have six or seven other homes around the world. And I’m sure they have food in every fridge and about eight cars in every driveway.

This is what makes me the crazy, tree-hugging liberal I am. I don’t begrudge anyone anything. But I’ve been deeply immersed in a Patrick Lencioni book in which he examines, among other things, irrelevance in the workplace, it makes one wonder whether all these bored and unfulfilled stars would be happier making a difference in the lives of others instead of just buying happiness in the form of material things.

Wow, the diatribes just keep coming. Imagine what I *really* want to be saying instead, since my cognitive dysentery is symptomatic of penguin pokage verbal constipation.

Anyway, I’m just saying, the more money I make, the more I spend. Which means I’m as poor (although less morally bankrupt, I hope) as I was five years and four raises ago. And I think, what if I were in the bajillion-dollar income bracket — would I, instead of having seven homes around the world, have 14 … two in each country so that Mom can have one and I can have the other?

I know, I know, I’m picking on her unfairly today. It’s sort of like when I used to play darts. There was the actual dartboard that I hit, and the mental picture that got me to focus on driving a sharp piece of metal into the bullseye.

I guess I’m crabby because I started thinking about moving again. Just across the Intracoastal, when this stupid lease is up. My cat has been very sick and since I missed so many signs with Maddie, I’m hyper when Kadie isn’t well.

Turns out that apparently the apartment may be making Kadie sick, as the doctor said she got E. Coli from the water. Which, Florida water SUCKS. But I wonder if it’s the ancient pipes or the water itself.

And yes, it’s slightly hilarious that I’m now buying bottled water for my cat, but I drink out of the tap. Welcome to my world. I’m two steps away from buying her a stroller like everybody else in my neighborhood does for their pets!

I don’t know what today’s theme is. Perhaps it’s that money leases your freedom and happiness over the short term, but it’s the little things that warm (or chill) your heart forever, so choose wisely, grasshopper, what supposedly small moments and memories are going to do their little part in shaping your worldview and, ultimately, the rest of your life.

Proverbs 29:11
“A fool gives full vent to his spirit, but a wise man quietly holds it back.”

Yep, it’s hard out there for an editor.

Most. Underrated. Profession. Ever.

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Palm Beach sunset

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I’m sure we’re all familiar with sexual frustration. Hell, even a couple hours after I’ve gotten some, I’ve got that craving for more.

And by “hours,” I mean “seconds or minutes.”

Today I’m intellectually frustrated. I almost typed “intellectually challenged,” but that has a ‘whole ‘nother meaning and I can apply it to a lot of people but I don’t think I qualify for that particular modifier.

Speaking of using one’s noodle, I’m writing a book in my head. I just hope my brain hasn’t atrophied by the time I get around to putting the words into a computer. It’s kind of an “Island of Misfit Toys” meets “Children of the Corn” story.

Any horror writers who can help a girl out? Well, horror, non-fiction, biographical, autobiographical writers … whatever.