THE BUZZ ABOUT BEES (By Robert Chapman)

Everyday I pull off of the interstate and park in my downtown parking lot right next to the bail bonds hut, as I like to call it. I turn off of State Street onto Court Street, and I dodge JPD cars as I try to find a parking spot. Everyday, this is my routine, this is my monotony, this is my repetition.

Everyday, I am greeted by a busy group that inspires me to bee more than average. They inspire me to bee focused and to beecome more. As corny as my misspellings are, I’m greeted by the downtown group of honeybees landing and collecting nectar from the wild flowers growing through the concrete cracks in the parking lot.

I guess they could be called the Hun-E Beez, since they’re downtown ghetto bees and probably already have a multi-million dollar signing deal with some hip-hop label.

I got to thinking today as it dawned on me that I haven’t written on the blog in far too long, these bees go to work early in the morning everyday – even when they don’t feel like it. Many people across the world get up early to go to work not to bring home the bacon, but simply to survive.

Our attitudes find their way drifting southward as we pull up to work, but only because we are blessed more than we know. Our blessings have caused our laziness. Our blessing are our downfall. Henry David Thoreau wrote while at Walden Pond that men live their lives in quiet desperation. He talked about the objects we own end up owning us. We dedicate our lives to acquiring stuff, as George Carlin puts it, and we buy houses so we can store our stuff.

What would happen if we dedicated our lives like the honeybee dedicates its life? If something prevents the honeybee from getting its job done, it fights. I know we don’t fight like that at our job, and most of the time it’s because we don’t care that much. But what about dedicating our lives to what we really stand for.

We should rethink our dedication in our faith, wherever your faith may lie in. We should rethink our dedication to our families, to our hobbies, to our friends, and to ourselves. Trust me, I know that you have a passion for you. I mean, we all love ourselves (or as my dad always jokingly says, “I love me some me!"), so why would we not want to better our situation?

Whatever that area of your life is that needs rededication (working on patience, making that deal at work that you KNOW you can make, losing weight, working out, or adjusting your attitude), go for it – or else the Hun-E Beez might be rollin' in and liftin' ya crib cuz you aint satisfied with diss! Peace out! (and that's the end of my rapping career).

ANOTHER LOHAN BLACKEYE (Associated Press)

SANTA MONICA, Calif. -- The troubled saga of Lindsay Lohan took another dangerous turn early Tuesday when police booked her for drunken driving and cocaine possession after a frightened woman dialed 911 to report being chased by Lohan's SUV.

Less than two weeks out of rehab, with another drunk driving case pending, Lohan had a blood-alcohol level of between .12 and .13 percent when police found her about 1:30 a.m., Sgt. Shane Talbot said.

Authorities had received a 911 call from the mother of Lohan's former personal assistant, said Officer Alex Padilla. The assistant had just quit hours before, he said.

"The mother was afraid," Padilla said. "She wasn't quite sure what was going on so she called the police saying she wanted to make sure everything was going to be OK."

The woman apparently didn't realize it was Lohan who was behind her, Padilla said.

Police said the woman drove her black Cadillac Escalade into the parking lot of Santa Monica's Civic Auditorium, about a block away from the Santa Monica Police Department, followed by Lohan driving a Denali sport utility vehicle. Authorities arrived and saw Lohan and the woman in "heated debate," Padilla said. Lohan and the woman each had two passengers in their vehicles, Padilla said.

After a field sobriety test, the 21-year-old movie star was booked on two misdemeanor charges of suspicion of driving under the influence and driving on a suspended license and two felony charges of possession of cocaine and transport of a narcotic, Talbot said.

During a pre-booking search, police found cocaine in one of Lohan's pants pockets, Talbot said.

Several hours later, Lohan was released on $25,000 bail.

A call to Lohan's publicist, Leslie Sloan Zelnik, and attorney, Blair Berk, were not immediately returned.

Padilla said he didn't know why Lohan was trying to catch the woman, whom he didn't name.

Last week, Lohan turned herself in to Beverly Hills police to face charges of driving under the influence in connection with a Memorial Day weekend hit-and-run crash.

Lohan lost control of her 2005 Mercedes SL-65 convertible and crashed into a curb and shrubs on Sunset Boulevard, police said.

Lohan's blood-alcohol level at the time of that crash was above the legal limit, authorities said, but they wouldn't disclose how high it was. She also faces a misdemeanor charge of hit and run in that case.

A court date was scheduled in that case for Aug. 24.

Lohan left Promises Malibu Alcohol and Drug Rehab Treatment Facility on July 13, after a stay of more than six weeks.

When she left, Zelnik said Lohan would voluntarily wear an alcohol-monitoring bracelet.

"In part she is wearing the bracelet so there are no questions about her sobriety if she chooses to go dancing or dining in a place where alcohol is served," Zelnik said in a statement at the time.

Padilla said he wasn't sure if Lohan was wearing it when she was stopped early Tuesday.

In January, Lohan also had checked into rehab for substance abuse treatment.

A MEMORY SWEETER AS IT AGES (By Jennifer Blakeslee)

Twenty five years ago today, I lost my Dad. I still haven’t figured out why the world keeps turning, since my world stopped on that day.

I visited with my parents during May, 1982, fresh from quitting my old, demanding job, and on the brink of going back to college for another degree. I hadn’t decided where my new education would take me, but I was sure it would be a better life than the one I had known. Since I wouldn’t be able to have prolonged visits in Clinton with the family, I stayed for a week before my summer classes started.

One day during that week, I decided to sand and paint Mom’s outdoor furniture. I knew it would be a lengthy task, but I had the time and knew how to do the job properly.
When Daddy came home from work that afternoon, he found me in the back yard, covered in dust and hot. He pulled up a lawn chair under the oak tree where I was working, and we talked for a while. His thoughts drifted to younger days, speaking of the times we shared when I was a child, and times he’d known as a bachelor. I loved to hear his stories, as I learned something new about him with each telling. There was a note of sadness in his voice as he told of my sisters and me growing up, and becoming independent women. I think, secretly, he always thought he could keep us as his little ones.

I remember asking him that afternoon, if there was anything that he wanted to do that he hadn’t done, if there was a place to visit that he hadn’t seen, if there was anything unfinished. He thought for a moment and said, “No, not really. I have everything I need.” My heart sank. I knew that the time was drawing near for us to lose him. You see, it seems that when we have no more dreams, nothing more to strive for, that God takes us to our heavenly home and makes more room on earth for the younger ones. At least, I’ve always thought about life that way.

Almost three months to the day, he died. He had been busily working in the yard until 4:00 that afternoon, in the hot July sun, and came inside to cool off and rest. Sitting in his recliner, he wasn’t feeling well, but figured he had “overdone it” outside. When Mom came home from work, she found him in the chair, not breathing. Even though the paramedics tried to revive him, it was not to be. God had spoken his name.

I got the message while in class that evening. My motions betrayed my insanity, as I arrived at Mom’s with all the appropriate clothing needed to bury my father. The next days were a blur, but we survived. We even managed to laugh while planning his funeral.

Those last days will always be part of me. I will never forget how I felt when I was told of his death, of the passing of my greatest fan, of the loss of the man who would never disappoint me, who would always love me unconditionally, who thought I was the smartest, prettiest, wittiest girl in the world. No wonder the memory just gets sweeter.

REMEMBER? MEMORIES! (By Robert Chapman)

As lunch pulled around today, I remembered that I had signed up to attend a meeting where author Daniel Wallace (author of Big Fish) talked to us about how he had come up with the ideas for all of his books, like his father being the inspiration for Big Fish along with Greek mythology. He talked about one book of his entitled The Watermelon King and how he had gotten the idea for that book.

He said that when he was around the age of nine he had passed through a town in North Carolina that claimed to be the strawberry capital of the world, which amazed him that a town he was in was actually the capital city of anything in the world.

One thing he talked about was the idea of memories and how they shape the view of our past and our future. I started to smile, but quickly had to stop so people around me didn’t get creeped out, because that is exactly what I have been talking about on Textured Observations.

He spoke of a story his 14 year old son swears is true, but Daniel knows really never happened. His son always tells others about the time his father left him in a supermarket. Daniel Wallace looked around the room and resembling a not-so-annoying Andy Dick replied, “That never happened, trust me.”

Isn’t odd how our own memories can lie to us, only we may never know that the real truth isn’t what is stuck in our minds. I know I mentioned the fact that growing up can alter a memory due to size, but this is a different truth altering section of memories. Some memories we might have might not have actually happened. Some memories might truly be a dream we had or a television show or movie we once saw that stuck in our subconscious as an event that occurred to us.

Tomorrow I’ll post a wonderful memory from my aunt, Jennifer Blakeslee. One that grows sweeter with time.

PIZZA HUT WAITRESS GETS $10K TIP (AP)

ANGOLA, Ind. (AP) -- Waitress Jessica Osborne is getting more than a good tip. She's getting $10,000 for her college education.

The 20-year-old waits tables at a Pizza Hut in northeast Indiana.

The money is from a mother and her two sons who are regular customers, but don't want to be named.

Osborne says she'd told the family how she had started college twice before, but had to quit because she didn't have the money. Osborne says the $10,000 gift made her cry so hard, she couldn't breathe. And she's having trouble getting people to believe her. Osborne says a co-worker thought she was lying.

THE DEAL OF PAIN (By Robert Chapman)

How many times do we avoid certain issues in life simply because they either hurt too much or leave us fealing angry? Too often we neglect to remember times in our past when the reflection in the mirror held the image of the truth, the image of hurt, pain, bitterness, and heartbreak.

Last night I went to watch the Morrison Heights Baptist Church senior high youth choir, and although that is a mouthful of letters and syllables, they did a great job presenting their message. One thing they did that caught my attention was talk about real life events in a way that seemed not to hold back any punches. One of the topics the drama touched on was dealing with an alcoholic parent who is nothing but negative.

This got me to thinking as I caught myself starting to feel a little uneasy with the subject. First of all, the fact that I was made uncomfortable is evidence to the fact that their message was strong and to the point. It created in me a need to examine my own life.

I noticed myself thinking to myself, “Self, isn’t this odd how you haven’t dealt with alcoholism in your family, but you still feel uneasy with such blatant talk and dramatic scenes?!”

Many people that I know have dealt with alcoholism or addiction in one form or another; whether it was an addiction that held onto them tightly or it was a family member or friend that it haunted.

What I’m trying to get at is the fact that “unpretty” topics such as addiction, divorce, or the death of someone we know and love, they all leave us in a state of confusion and uncomfortable depression.

For us who have dealt with any of this, and those of you who will, try not to shy away from a 20/20 episode or a Sunday school lesson that stirs uneasiness in your heart and your soul. Deal with it! If only for the reason to reflect on the subject and remember where you once were and where you are now.

It is easy and fun to remember that time when you were with your buddies goofing off or with your friends doing something fun. However, it is hard to think about those painful memories, but it is necessary for you to develop in to the man or woman you are to be.

FRIDAY BLURBS

Good late afternoon to all. Today is going to be blurb blog day!

Pat Fordice, the former First Lady of Mississippi, died earlier today. She has been fighting cancer for a while and has finally gone home. She will eternally be remember in this great state. Oh, and if you litter, her spirit will haunt you!

Saturday night is the Miss Mississippi finale for 2007. Tune in and you'll be able to see a parade of beauties sprouting about with a collective IQ of 17. With the joking aside, these 47 young ladies are looking for a chance to become Miss Mississippi and progress not only their careers but the careers of the Miss Mississippi programing board. Watch for 40 of them to sing, six of them to dance, and one to give a dramatic monologue (because she can't do either of the prior). My prediction: second runner up blondie, first runner up, dark headed girl, and the winner is . . . the wonderful people of the state of Mississippi

As we find ourselves in the middle of July, school is just around the corner. For many children, they will begin school for the first time while others will return to raise havoc with their old friends for one more school year. Teachers, beware.

This will be my first weekend at home after I've been married. The first weekend we were on the honeymoon, and last weekend we were in Perdido, Florida. Instead of relaxing I will be painting and watching baseball. Have a wonderful weekend!