Orange

'
I found this gigantic ........ thing ......... in the woods not far from my house:






My foot is in the pic for size reference. (I meant to do that!) (yeah sure.) (no, really, I did.) I think it may be a jack o' lantern mushroom, based on a quick search, but it kinda looks like something that should be growing next to a nuclear power plant, doesn't it?



Oh, and there's plenty of kid-built stuff down by the creek:





This is some kind of a fort, with tree branches interwoven in a circle around it. There's a fire pit, chairs made out of stone (ouch!), and a table made of tires.

It's good to know that kids still do this stuff.

I know it's fall .......

...... because I can't stop eating.

Cookies, lasagna, popcorn, salad, chips, steak, cheese, veggies, crackers ..... it really doesn't matter what. I'm just an eating machine.

And this would be worrying, except that I go through this every year. The days get shorter and the nights get colder, and my body decides that it's time to eat. All the time.

And just about the time that I start to think I'm going to be facing a pretty stiff weight gain, and I start to worry that this year I won't stop eating, it ends. Oh, I mean, I still eat, I'm just not eating like I'll never see food again.

I go through it again in December, although it's hard to tell how much of that is my body stocking up and how much of that is Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year's and Holy God It's Cold Outside So I'll Make A Huge Pot Of Food.

So it's fall, and I'm eating. Keep your hands and feet away from my mouth, is all I'm sayin'.

Movie Review - "The Boy in the Striped Pajamas"

Whooooaaaaaaa. This is the most depressing movie ever. I mean, of course a movie about the Holocaust is not going to be uplifting, but seriously, the ending of this movie may have put me off Netflix for good.


Warning: If you were possibly planning on using this movie to introduce your children to the concept of the Holocaust, DO NOT DO IT. Seriously. I think a kid would be scarred for life by watching this sucker.


That being said, it is an extremely interesting, absorbing movie about a little boy whose dad runs a concentration camp. The boy befriends a boy inside the camp, without understanding what's going on.


But if you're feeling emotionally fragile, do not watch this movie. I'm warning you. The ending will shatter you.

Holy shit my heart just broke ......

I just read this postcard on the postsecret site:



I'm SO GLAD I stayed in the room with Rocky. I couldn't have imagined being anywhere else right then.

Recently Read

Standard disclaimer - go ahead and skip this if you want to.

1. Prayers for Sale by Sandra Dallas - Novel about a Colorado mining town in the 30s - interesting and enjoyable. I like this author's books.

2. The Mighty Queens of Freeville by Amy Dickinson - I really enjoyed this memoir by a local author (and newspaper advice columnist), although I cried my eyes out reading the "Livestock in the Kitchen" chapter. A short, very interesting read.

3. King of the Hill by A.E. Hotchner - Memoir about a boy growing up in St. Louis during the depression - Funny, sad and really, really good.

4. Tell Me Where It Hurts by Dr. Nick Trout - One day in the life of a veterinarian - good.

5. As Hot As It Was You Ought To Thank Me by Nanci Kincaid - I got quite a way into this before realizing I'd read it before - Hello, old age! Still, it's a good book about a small southern town.

6. Bitsy's Bait and BBQ by Pamela Morsi - Novel about a small Ozarks town. A little formulaic, but still very enjoyable. There was a sex scene tossed in toward the end, which was kind of odd, because the rest of the book was basically rated G. It reminded me of the movies "Stir of Echoes" and "Sling Blade", both of which threw in sexually charged scenes right at the front of the movie, I guess to make sure they'd get an R rating. Not sure why you'd do that with a book, though - especially at the end. That being said, I DID like this book. (Just in case the author's googling!)

7. Hurry Down Sunshine by Michael Greenburg - Nonfiction about a man whose 15 year old daughter becomes mentally ill. Interesting, but I guess I've just read one too many of these "family member goes insane" books - after a while they're all the same.

8. Everybody Into The Pool by Beth Lisick - Brief, humorous essays about modern life - funny.

9. Hannah's Dream by Dianne Hammond - Novel about an elephant in a run-down zoo - I really, really liked this one.

10. The Time Traveler's Wife by Audry Niffenegger. Confusing ("Clare is 28. Henry is 36, and 41.") and kind of sappy. Meh.

11. The Curing Season by Leslie Wells - Novel about an abused woman with a crazy husband. Interesting.

12. Democratic Camera by William Eggleston - Coffee table book. This was an interesting guy - He was a photographer who claimed that he thought all his pictures were equally valid - He'd let other people pick which ones to exhibit, because he thought they were all the same, quality-wise.

13. That Went Well by Trent Dougan - Memoir about growing up with and caring for a mentally disabled sister - Interesting.

14. Black Flies by Shannon Burke - Novel about an EMT in Harlem based on the author's experiences - Very good.

15. Jellicoe Road and The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks - A lot of people recommended these two Young Adult books. The problem I have with YA books is, well ...... they were written for kids. I mean, I'm sure if I was 14 I'd really enjoy this type of book, but I'm not and I don't. Sorry!

So! That's it for now. I'm hoping that with the move behind me, I'll be able to settle down and do a little more reading. Any suggestions?

Last night

I was working in the garage, trying to get some weatherproofing going on, when I noticed a diffuse reddish/pink light coming through the windows. I walked outside, and ......




Purty. I think I'm gonna like it here.

Why I don't watch Y&R anymore

"Daily update for Tuesday, September 1, 2009:

Mac and Lily commiserate about their happily-ever-after not being everything they thought it would be. Later, Mac gives Lily a lot to think about where Cane is concerned.

Jeff and Gloria take Patty to the Abbott cabin and Patty immediately assumes that Jack is meeting them there to renew their vows. Jeff takes a photo of Patty to send in for the reward money. Later, Gloria and Jeff stand off over whom to term Patty over to: Victor or Jack. Meanwhile, Jack tells Billy about Victor's involvement with Patty and that they need to find Patty before Victor does in order to bring him down.

Still in lockdown, Nick is adamant about telling Phyllis about the baby before she leaves on her trip to Switzerland. Meanwhile, Phyllis brings Summer by to see Victor to say goodbye and fishes for a clue towards Victor's involvement with Patty Williams. Later, Sharon tells Nick that she was happier when he didn't know the truth because she is tired of all the drama.

Victor takes the defensive with Phyllis and swears that he had nothing to do with bringing Patty back to Genoa City, while Adam listens from the shadows. Meanwhile, Nick finally realizes Sharon's true intentions in lying about the baby and is hit with the enormity of what she did for him.

Billy admits to Jack that he had second thoughts about the divorce but he has moved past them but Jack isn't so sure. Meanwhile, Mac tells Lily that Billy's second thoughts may have changed everything between them. Later, Jack tells Billy that he needs to figure what he feels for Chloe before he commits to Mac completely.

Phyllis and Noah discuss Sharon and Nick being in lockdown and Phyllis admits that although she trusts Nick again she is still wary of the two being locked up together for a night. Later, Sharon tells Nick that needs to be left in the mental hospital in order to find a way to stand on her own two feet for the sake of her children. Nick leaves to catch Phyllis but promises Sharon she is no longer alone.

Jeff and Gloria decide to flip to see whom they give Patty to and Jeff wins but his phone has no signal. He decides to drive down the road in order to call Jack. Meanwhile, Jack stops by the hospital to check on Sharon and tell her that Mary Jane is in fact Patty and Sharon is forced to tell him that Nick knows about the baby. Later, Jeff finds service but her account is suspended before he can make a call. Meanwhile, Patty is furious when she realizes she has been tricked. Mac tells Billy that he needs time alone to figure out what he wants, whether he wants it or not. Meanwhile, Cane panics when he realizes that Lily has a fever.

Phyllis and Summer wait at the airport terminal for Nick, realizing that he may not make it in time for their flight.

Paul confronts Victor about bringing Patty back to Genoa City."

- Synopsis from the Y & R website.


Let's face it, War and Peace had a less convoluted plot. And the above recap is for one day of Y&R. And yet, amazingly, you can watch Y&R for years (take it from me) and nothing ever really happens. I shit you not; a fistfight between two characters can last, like, weeks on Y&R.

And rest assured, Katherine Chancellor is still alive and well. Or so I'm told.

What are people so afraid of?

Okay, so President Obama gave his health care speech last night. And it sounded reasonable to me. I mean, health care for everybody is a good thing, right? Every other civilized nation provides it, so surely we can too, right?

Obviously there are a lot of people who don't see things that way. I mean, look at those town hall meetings, where people got all hysterical over the thought of *gasp* providing health care for everyone!

What's wrong with health care for everybody? Sure, our taxes might go up - hell, they might even go up as much as they will to pay for the stupid f*cking wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. But shouldn't everybody be able to go to the doctor when they're sick?

I guess that according to some people, the answer to that is "no". That not everybody "deserves" health care. That people who are unlucky enough, or, let's face it, not "smart" enough to work for an employer who provides health care, are just shit out of luck. Tough on you.

And here's where I really don't get it: People aren't just opposed to health care for everybody; they act like they're afraid of it. Like it's some big boogeyman in the closet that's going to jump out and rip their face off in the middle of the night.

I just don't understand.

Push It

Did anyone else besides me watch "Glee" last night? When they sang "Push It" at the school assembly?

I kind of tend to think the show is overrated, but that performance cracked me right up. Why couldn't something like that have happened at one of my high school's boring, interminable assemblies?

Family Cook-Out

Oh, sure, I could do a post about my family's Labor Day cook-out, and how my one nephew is fresh out of rehab (again), and how my niece's boyfriend was so drunk he fell over a chair, and how my sister Ditzy showed up driving her ex-boyfriend's car, but it just seemed unfair. Like shooting fish in a barrel.



My family alternately amuses the heck out of me and depresses me. I'd have to guess that I'm not alone there.

Step into the sun, step into the light ......

The cats leave the garage to explore the yard for the first time:

And they're off:

The Runt got himself into a little jam (look at the top of the shed):

But he got himself down again.

I don't know of anything more nerve-wracking than letting them out for the first time. But they handled themselves well, and are now getting re-acquainted with the great outdoors.

Take it easy out there, guys!

Nowhere to run to, baby

Seriously, I feel awful about this:




Poor Runtman is still having a hard time adjusting., although he has seemed much better the past couple of days.



Little Girl, on the other hand, is now more sanguine about the situation and is ready for her spa treatment:



Please ignore the other stuff going on in that pic, including the mid-air spike bar. I'm still moving in, peeps, cut me a break.

The lions of the Serengeti explore their new surroundings:

(and no, I DID NOT paint the living room baby blue. Sheesh. It was like that when I bought it. New paint coming this winter. Oh, and check out how Little Girl camouflages into the couch.)


They're starting to get used to the noise from the kids in the park next door:



I think this weekend it may be time for a little backyard exploring.

Five

It's been five months now since I stopped smoking.

Time to run the numbers:


Number of cigarettes I would have smoked between April 3 and now, had I not stopped smoking: 4,500


Amount of money saved: $802.50


When people light up around me, the smoke just smells like chemicals, not like something good, the way it used to. And I watch someone blow out smoke, and I'm amazed to think that all that smoke was in their lungs a minute ago.


Really, that was one of the main reasons I quit. Way back last winter, I was holed up in my apartment on a cold day with all the windows shut. I lit up a cigarette, exhaled the first puff, really looked at the amount of smoke that filled the room, and thought to myself, "That can't be good." I think that was the first time that a little inkling crossed my mind that maybe it was time to quit.


So! Five months. I still think about smoking sometimes. But the fact that I've made it this far, well, it gives me hope that I can keep it up. I mean, heck, if I can abstain from smoking for five months, I can do anything!

.... and tell those kids to get off my lawn!

I've noticed an alarming trend lately: Women wearing stripper shoes out and about. I saw a woman at CrapMart the other day wearing shoes very similar to these:





And my first thought was, "Really? You really wear your S&M shoes to run errands?"

I couldn't help but notice that she was having a hard time actually, you know, walking, what with the four-inch stiletto heels and all. Not very practical when you're just dashing in to pick up some toilet paper and dog food.

And then I noticed more women, out and about, proudly tottering through the grocery store and the RiteAid in their stripper shoes.

And I mean, it's a free country and all, but is this really some new trend? Because it kind of scares me. For one thing, I cannot effectively walk in anything taller than about a two-and-a-half inch heel. For another thing, I think these shoes are just ....... well ....... a little inappropriate for daytime wear. If you know what I mean.

What's that? Why yes, yes, I am a kabillion years old. Thanks for asking!

It was worth every penny

The shower is fixed! In the end, they had to replace the faucet and the pipe that the showerhead connects to, and it cost a hundred and twenty bucks*, but I now have a working shower!

Thanks, Auchinachie** Plumbing! Your plumbers are awesome.



*Welcome to homeownership. Get out your checkbook.

**Pronounced Ah-HAWN-ah-hee. Yeah, I don't get it either.

Continuing On ....

(See post below for Part 1 of the moving saga.)

So! I got another wagon load of stuff back to the new house, unloaded, and decided it was time to let the cats start exploring. I opened up the door to the spare room, looked around, and ........ nothing. No cats.

I finally found them scrunched behind some boxes in the closet. I called, and called, and called, but no dice. There was no way IN HELL they were coming out of that closet.

Aw! Poor kitties!

They finally came slinking out into the living room around eight on Friday night. They'd do a quick recon and run right back to their safe closet again.


And now, five days later, they're still uncertain of their surroundings. They'll come out and explore for a little bit, then go back to the closet, or under the bed, or in the bathtub. Any unexpected noise sends them running for safety. Little Girl is doing better than The Runt, which doesn't surprise me, since she's always been the bolder of the two. Last night I unlatched the pet door, which leads to the garage, and propped it open so they could start getting used to the garage, which they'll have to go through get outside, once I start letting them out. They were fine as long as the pet door was propped open, but they can't seem to figure out how to work it on their own. *sigh* I had no idea there was a learning curve for pet doors.

I feel bad, because I had no idea that this move would be so traumatic on them. I thought they'd scope out the new place for a couple of days and then be fine. Poor Runt looks like he's about to have a heart attack half the time; I hope they calm down soon. I know they'll love the new place once they get used to it.

In the meantime, I've got two disconcerted kitties on my hands.

Whyyyyy ....... WHHYYYYYYY?????

..... picture Nancy Kerrigan, clutching her knee and rocking back and forth.


Hahahahaha, it's really not that bad, I swear, but imagine my surprise on Saturday morning when I got ready to take my first shower in the new place, turned on the water, got it set to the right temp, flipped the lever to activate the showerhead, and ........

nada.

The shower does not work, people. Woe is me! I am NOT a bath person, I am a SHOWER person, and the fact that I somehow did not check the showerhead when I did the walk-through is just stupidity on my part.

So! I showered back at the apartment over the weekend (oh, and the awful new landlord called me SEVERAL TIMES on Sunday morning to find out when, exactly, I would be out of the place - thank God that the new landlord will not be MY landlord .......), and a plumber is coming out tomorrow afternoon to check out the shower. Between now and then, guess I'll have to grit my teeth and take a bath. or two. *shudder*

But! I am all moved in. I was going to wait on Friday and take the cats after everything else had been moved, but The Runt was acting all hinky Friday morning, jumping in and out of the car and generally freaking out, so I packed up him and Little Girl and they went to the new place with the first load. Little Girl even got to ride in a pickup truck! She was not amused.

We got the first load to the house, only to discover that the roofers were there to finish the ventilation work. Nice timing, guys! And apropos of nothing, I smoked a LOT, back when I smoked, but those roofers put me to shame. They were there for several hours, and I swear, they both chainsmoked the entire time. Maybe it's some kind of roofing rule or something.

Anyhow, I got the cats set up in the spare room and we proceeded to unpack the truck/trailer. The cat door was installed, the windows were repaired (did I mention that some of the bedroom windows and the bathroom window had been screwed shut? and somehow set up so that if you did manage to open the bottom part, the top part would slam down on your fingers like a guillotine? I guess the previous owner had been making preparations against the coming zombie invasion.), and my moving help (thanks guys!) left around two. I made one more trip to the apartment to gather up odds and ends (which turned out to be a FULL WAGON LOAD, why do I own so much CRAP?) and then I went back to the new place and ..............

oh holy cow this is running on way too long. More later.

I guess this is it.

Lord willing and the creek don't rise, tomorrow I finally, officially move to the new house. And in honor of the occasion, I thought I'd make some lists. Lame, I know. Sorry.

Things I will not miss about the old apartment:

1. The kitchen sink faucet, which delivers either freezing cold or boiling hot water, but nothing in between.

2. The bathtub drain, which does not (drain, that is).

3. The flippin' street festival held on the street in front of the building every year, blocking my access to my apartment for two days.

4. The lamp-stealing thief downstairs.

5. The Pakistani terrorist tenant in the apartment next to mine, who hoots at the most disconcerting times. (Did I ever tell you guys about that? If not, remind me. Kthx.)

6. The lack of covered parking - I've got a garage now, bitches!

7. Hearing other tenants loudly fight/have loud make-up sex.

8. The goddam f*cking bass from loud stereos. I swear, there were times I thought I would lose my mind if I had to listen to THUMPA THUMPA THUMPA for one more minute.

9. The plumber (and I use that term loosely) who ripped up my bathroom floor last October and never returned to fix it.

10. The tree fort, side-slider windows which let the wind blow freely through the frames.

11. Hearing traffic from the two nearby highways.

12. The moronic tenants who were too f*cking lazy to put their garbage bags in the garbage cans, instead leaving the bags next to their doors or on the ground next to the cans for days at a time, thus ensuring that every creature in the neighborhood got a shot at ripping the bags open and strewing the garbage around.



Okay, okay, let's be fair here ...... now for a list of Things I WILL Miss About the Old Aparment:

1. The tiled bathroom with a window right in the shower.

2. Hans across the street, who would come to my rescue and plow the driveway when the landlord's hired guy didn't show, which was most of the time.

3. The flippin' street festival. Yeah, I guess I'll kind of miss it after all.

4. The back deck, and the view of my neighbor's enormous pine tree.




I can't tell you how many hours I spent on that deck, reading the paper and listening to the radio and looking at that tree.


So! Onward and upward. See you next week, after the cats and I have gotten settled in to the new place.

Two and a half hours

That's how long it took the *&^%$ cable guy to hook up my cable last night.

TWO AND A HALF GODDAM HOURS.

I knew I was in trouble when he said he couldn't find my house. My house, which is one turn from a major roadway and is numbered both on the mailbox and on the front door.

Then he didn't want to go into the crawlspace (where the cable had been originally run), so he decided to rewire everything, from the pole out at the street back to the house, through the garage, and through the wall into the living room.

That's two and a half hours of my life that I'll never get back, buddy. Thanks a bunch.

About that broccoli salad ......

...... so far I have identified (raw) broccoli, raisins, red onions, walnuts, celery, some things that look like raisins but are green and ohmygod I don't know WHAT THEY ARE ........ I do not like eating stuff I can't identify.


What is green, and looks like a raisin, but is not a raisin? Hmmmm....


Oh and there's some kind of binder holding it all together - not sure if it's mayo or possibly ranch dressing, but I'm leaning toward mayo right now.


And here is my dilemma. I cannot be sure that some of my new neighbors won't someday find my blog. And I don't want to say anything unkind, especially about someone who is being so nice to me. But this salad ........... why? Why would anyone make this? I guess it just has to go into that category of "dubious recipes from the 50s". Or the 70s. Either one.


And I mean, it's not like I'm one to talk. I have leftover jello crown jewel dessert in my fridge right now.

So dear neighbor, if you ever read this, just remind me about the jello. We're even.

Delay of Game

Due to scheduling conflicts, the move will now be taking place on Friday morning.

*sigh*

In the meantime, I'm busier than a one-armed paperhanger, trying to make sure that everything's ready to go. The roofer is coming today to put in a ridge vent and vented soffits - the attic had no ventilation at all, which isn't good. The cable guy comes tomorrow afternoon, the phone gets switched on Thursday, and the mailman FINALLY started delivering mail to the new place, after several phone calls and a visit to the post office.

And lists? Ay yi yi have I got some lists. Stuff to do, stuff to take, stuff to fix. Looking back, I really should have taken this week off from work. Note to self: Next time, do not try to move an entire household on evenings and weekends. Gah.

But! I really do think I won the neighbor sweepstakes. Last night while I was mowing the lawn, my new neighbor came over with tomatoes and lettuce and basil and parsley from her garden, and then came back over with broccoli salad, which looks kind of ... umm ..... dubious, but I'll give it a try at lunch today. Thanks, neighbor! I just need to figure out something I can give her/do for her in return.

Duh-RAMA!

So, I worked the registration booth at the picnic on Saturday and got to meet a ton of people. I was surprised at how many people showed up - the weather wasn't that great. Then again, free food ......


At one point, a little boy, maybe five or six, came up to the booth, obviously upset, and cried, "I can't find my MOMMMMMMYYYYY!!!!!" then melted down. Poor kid! Don't worry - we found his mommy in short order.


Oh, and the organizers inadvertently ended up with the Dunk Tank of Doom when the fire department filled the tank with extremely rusty water. Bleeccchhhhh.


Sunday was spent moving - what else is new? I'm down to odds and ends now - I guess I'm ready to go. I just wish I could stop worrying about the cats adjusting to their new neighborhood - does anybody have any ideas on getting them settled in? That butter-on-the-paws thing is just an old wives' tale, right? Or not?

It was just weird, is all I'm sayin'

As some of you may know, I quit smoking back in April. And I vowed that I would never, ever, turn into one of those nasty, judgmental non-smokers who ripped into people who still smoke.


And I haven't.


But I went to a funeral on Friday (in an Armenian church, which was very interesting), and all the smokers were out front, puffing away, before the service started.


The service was for a fifty-nine year old woman (my boss's sister) who died of heart failure.


Now, I don't know if this woman ever smoked or not. I don't recall her ever smoking, but that's not to say that she never did. But she was fifty-nine, and she died of heart problems.



I just thought it was weird that people would smoke out front.



Maybe it's just me.

My Million-Dollar Idea .....

..... mini-bananas!


Seriously, I can't eat a whole banana at one sitting. That's just too much banana; it makes me feel queasy. And once you break the seal on a banana, the rest of it goes brown and yucky at warp speed.

So there should be mini-bananas, maybe a third of the size of a regular banana.

Is brilliant! Get on that, would ya?



Oh! And here's another great idea! Gas-grill propane tanks that have a gauge showing how much propane is left in the tank.


You're welcome!

Whether I go or not ......

...... the phone and cable service are being fired up at the new place (and disconnected at the apartment) next Wednesday. So if I want to watch TV or make a call, I guess I'm moving.

Next Wednesday.

*gulp*

Dear new neighbor:

Thank you for coming over to chat when you saw me in the backyard on Sunday. Thank you for pointing out the poison ivy in the lot behind mine. Thank you for showing me your flowers, and telling me about the plans for your upcoming 50th wedding anniversary*, and chatting about your kids.


Thank you for helping me feel at home in my new neighborhood.




*They're going to Hawaii. I am SO JEALOUS.

I've got your better place

I may be evil for writing this down, but here goes.

I work for a small company. My boss's private office, where he takes all his calls, is directly behind my desk. Which means that unless he shuts his door, I hear all of his conversations.

My boss's sister died last weekend. Very sad. But now my boss is telling the story of his sister's death (from heart failure) to every. single. person. who calls. Every client. Every vendor. Every supplier. Every single f*cking person who calls.

I have now heard the boss's sister's death story approximately a kabillion times. And frankly, if I hear "She's in a better place now" ONE MORE TIME, I am going to put my BOSS in a better place.

Shut it, boss. Or close the damn door. Or get sent to "a better place". Your choice.

You can't make this shit up

I had to go to the dentist this morning to get my teeth cleaned, and there was a woman sitting in the dentist's waiting area eating oreo cookies and drinking a Yoo-Hoo.

I shit you not.

Who DOES That?! WTF?! Did they call her name, and did she plop down in the dentist's chair and give them a great big oreo-and-Yoo-Hoo-filled smile?

I'm still trying to wrap my head around it.

I mean, I guess if you HATED the hygienist, you'd want to make her job harder. But the hygienist's the one with the pointy instruments, for Pete's sake!

Oh, and it was nine in the morning. Nice breakfast!

The only way I can even comprehend this is that maybe she was waiting for someone else who was seeing the dentist. Even so, you think she'd at least go out to her car to eat her oreos and drink her Yoo-Hoo.

Sheesh.

.... because I don't want my legs to stay on the top of the page .....

....... I'd better put something else up here.

So, guess what I did?


I volunteered to help out at the community picnic for my new neighborhood, being held this Saturday.


Why, yes, yes I am out of my mind. Thanks for asking.


When I first found the flyer, asking for volunteers, stuck in the door of the new house, I thought about volunteering, and then I chickened out. And then I got mad at myself, because I always chicken out when it comes to stuff like this, dammit, and I fired off an e-mail and volunteered myself.


So I have to show up at the rec hall at 11 a.m. this Saturday, and do ...... something. Something volunteer-y, I'm guessing.

At least I'll get to meet more of my new neighbors, right? I hope I like them.

She's got legs

I understand that a lot of women have problems with body image. And honestly, I think I've got the opposite problem - I think I'm better looking than I actually am. But, come on, look at these legs!

Granted, the angle of the photo makes my thighs look huge and my feet look like tiny Barbie feet, but still! There's some fine lookin' gams!

I like my shoulders, too. And my upper back. Granted, there's lots of scars from where moles were removed, but still, my shoulders are pretty cool. I like my hands, too, even if they are starting to get that vein-y, old lady look.

I've never liked my nose or my chin, but what can you do? And maybe I could be a little more endowed, boob-wise, but naw. Big boobs just garner the wrong kind of attention.

Fess up - what do you like about your body?

Watching me move all this crap is tiring The Runt out

Just look at that yawn.

How the other half moves

Via pickup truck:

And one carload at a time:

Boxes? We don't need no stinkin' boxes! Just wing all the crap in the back of the car.

Moving the gardens

I took the day off from work yesterday, as my brother and his wife were coming in to town to help me move the gardens from the apartment building to the new house.

Over the course of several hours, the three of us moved several tiger lilies, a bunch of Oriental lilies, some Turk's Cap lilies, a hydrangea, a peony bush, some bleeding hearts and lilies-of-the-valley, and two Rose of Sharons. I know it's the worst time of year to try to move plants, but I was afraid if I waited until the fall or next spring, the new owners of the apartment building would have mowed everything over.

Some of this stuff isn't going to make it. The peony, especially, is not happy about the move. And it's supposed to be hot and sunny for the next few days (for the first damn time this summer, thankyouverymuch), which means I'll be up there every night watering.

I just had to try, you know? I couldn't leave it all behind.

Oh, and I almost forgot ....

..... I cleaned up the Refrigerator of Death this weekend!

The seller had left a refrigerator in the garage, and when I opened it up, it smelled like something had crawled up in it and died. Seriously, within a minute of opening it, the entire garage stank like an abandoned abattoir.

I thought I was going to have to have it hauled out of there, but I went after it with some almost-straight bleach and elbow grease over the weekend, and after leaving it propped open for a couple of days, it smells fresh as a daisy. And it even works! I plugged it in, and it works just fine.

I really don't have any need for an extra refrigerator, but goodness knows I've got the room for it, and who knows? Maybe it'll come in handy some time, like if I decide to throw a big dinner party (HA!) or something.

The Refrigerator of Death gets a reprieve.

Weekend Update

Internet service is spotty this morning, so I'll try to do a quick update before everything goes kerflooey again.

This weekend, I ..........

.... met my new next-door neighbors! Who turned out to be the parents of a guy I went to high school with. Small world.

.... finished mowing the lawn. FINALLY. It turns out the key to the pull-cord thingie is to not pull it out all the way. Guess I don't know my own strength. Heh.

.... convinced a buddy to come dig out the giant bushes on either side of the front door. After several hours of (his) sweating and swearing and finally sawing the bastards off at the base, ended up at Home Depot looking at "Stump Killer". Directions on the container of "Stump Killer" are basically as follows: Drill a bunch of holes in the stump. Fill holes with Stump Killer and wait four to six weeks. After four to six weeks, fill drilled holes with kerosene and light the stump on fire. Did I mention that these bushes are right next to my front door? Looks like I'll live with the stumps.

.... gave away the other "staging" shrubbery to the neighbors. Thanks for taking those off my hands, guys!

.... figured out the attic stairs, which pull down from the garage ceiling and are really too tall for me to manage. Turns out a stepladder is necessary to access the attic ladder. Success!

.... discovered that the seller left a shitload of junk in the attic. Thanks, pal!

.... fixed the overhead fluorescent light in the bathroom. Bad ballast, my butt. It just needed some new bulbs. Go figure! But it's still awful dark in there. More thinking is needed on this one.

.... cleaned out the shed. And managed to bean myself, as in the drop-to-your-knees variety of beaning, on the overhead roof support, twice. I'm a slow learner. With a sore head.

.... planted brown-eyed Susans by the mailbox. Purty!

.... bought and learned how to use a weedwhacker.

.... hauled five wagonloads to the new house. And hauled one wagonload of new-house-attic crap back to my place, to be taken to the thrift store.

Whew! This moving is hard work! Who knew?!

News from the home front

My lawnmower hates me. This is not surprising, since gas-powered appliances have never taken a shine to me, for some reason. So far the lawn mower has:

1. Refused to start. (Out of gas.)
2. Refused to keep running. (Blade got jammed with grass.)
3. Refused to release the pull-cord gizmo (See jammed with grass, above.)
4. Refused to accept the pull-cord gizmo back into the wind-y thingie. (no idea.)

Yeah. Me and the lawnmower need to come to an understanding, pronto. My neighbors are probably already sighing and saying, "there goes the neighborhood. She can't even mow the freakin' lawn, for Pete's sake."

I debated removing the "WTFWJD" bumpersticker from my car before moving into the new place, so as not to possibly offend any of my new neighbors, then decided against it. I yam what I yam. If their kids want to know what the letters stand for, they can make something up.

The overhead garage door is not working properly. I can either (a) have it repaired, for $115.00, or (b) have it replaced, for upwards of five hundred bucks. Hmmmm, I wonder which option I'll choose? The suspense is killing me.

The lighting in the bathroom is woefully inadequate. I was calling it the bat cave; now it's referred to as the bat bathroom.

All the offers of help you receive when you first talk about your move will dry up at an amazing pace once the move actually becomes imminent. People lose their enthusiasm as the date draws nigh.

The perennials I am planning on moving are mostly done blooming. Which means it will look like I'm filling the front garden areas with a bunch of odd weeds. There goes the neighborhood, indeed.

But! Progress is being made. The shed is getting cleaned. The lawn WILL be mowed this weekend, if I have to do it with a damn weed whacker. Stuff is getting moved, one wagon-load at a time. One way or another, this thing is gonna get done. Soon.

Moving is not for the faint of heart.

Awwww, Lucinda, why?

I've always been kind of ambivalent about Lucinda Williams. I first heard of her when "Car Wheels on a Gravel Road" came out, and the critics were falling all over her, so I got the CD and had a listen. The music, to me, was kind of meh, but I could see what she was aiming for (an alterna-country kind of vibe).



When I saw there was going to be an Austin City Limits rerun on TV the other night, featuring her, I decided to watch it. When the show first started, I thought, wow, she looks kind of out of it, and then I was like, "why does she keep looking down?" When the camera pulled back, I saw why. It was because she was using a cheat sheet. She had a binder with the lyrics in it on a stand in front of her, and she was reading the lyrics as she sang. And when each song finished up, she'd rip that lyrics page out of the binder and throw it on the floor, evidently so that she didn't, you know, accidentally sing the same song twice in a row. Although I kind of think her backup musicians would not have let that happen.



I don't know how common this is these days, but, well ....... I am NOT A FAN. Come ON, you WROTE the damn songs, you recorded them, you (presumably) made some money off of them, and now you're getting PAID to perform them, and yet those songs mean so little to you, these songs that you wrote, that you can't be bother to remember the words?



And it's not like she's got a huge back catalog to remember. She's put out, maybe, six or seven CDs, max, and yet she can't be bothered to remember the words to the songs from which she's making a living. Sheesh.

A third of a year

Number of cigarettes I would have smoked between April 3 and today, had I not stopped smoking then: Three thousand, six hundred (I know! Can you even believe that shit?!)


Amount of money saved: $642.00



I sometimes can't believe that I actually made it all the way through the home-buying process without lighting up. This has been one of the most stressful periods of my life, without a doubt. And yet, I feel like I never really came close to actually starting smoking again. Because I know there's no way I can have just one. If I were to smoke "just one", I'd be back to a pack-and-a-half a day within a week. Come on, I know me. I mean, I'll think about it in passing, but just as quickly, I'll think, "you don't DO that anymore", and the moment is over. And sometimes that happens several times a day, or even several times an hour, but whatever.



So! I'm at four months now. They (ah yes, the mythical "they") say that for the first six months, you're still an "active" quitter, meaning you're spending effort to not smoke. After six months, you go into "passive" mode, meaning you just have to watch out for special occasions and other "triggers" for smoking.

All I know is, I'm not smoking. I smoked for almost thirty flippin' years. That's long enough.

Already with the questions

So! The living room in the new house has a hardwood floor. Whenever somebody talks about hardwood floors, I always wonder, as opposed to what? Soft wood? Like, balsa or something?

But anyway, how do you clean a hardwood floor? Mr. Clean? Seriously, I have no idea.

Also, the floor in the kitchen is what the seller described as "pergo". Got me. Looks like some kind of fake wood. Any cleaning ideas for "pergo"?

In other exciting (to me) house news, I bought a new (to me) couch over the weekend! I was bound and determined not to move the ratty old vintage-1974 couch from the old place, so when I saw a good used couch for a hundred and fifty bucks this weekend, I grabbed it. Now I've just gotta rope the guys from the office into moving it for me ...... I was going to bribe them with donuts, but with this crew, I actually think beer will work quite a bit better.

Okay! Floors! How to clean! Any ideas?

F*ck yeah!

...... I'm a homeowner.


After the self-serve walk-through yesterday, I headed for the closing, again alone, because my realtor couldn't be bothered to show for that, either. It was me, my closing attorney, the seller, and the seller's closing attorney.

And let me just say this, the seller was a great big sweetie. Gave me all kinds of helpful advice on the house (it takes an hour to mow the lawn!), and was just a very nice guy.

So! We're signing paperwork, lalala, and the seller's attorney mentions the school taxes, and how they were paid through the end of August, so the seller would get a month's worth back, and then the September bill, for the next year's school taxes, would go to me.

And it was like at the end of a scary movie where the hand reaches out of the grave, that one last twist. Because I was SURE that the school taxes were supposed to be included in my monthly mortgage payment, and here was this dude, implying that nononono, I'D be getting a bill for, oh, a thousand bucks or so, in just a few weeks.

Of course, he was wrong. The school taxes ARE included in the mortgage payment, and it's my BANK that will be receiving the bill, not me, and hahahahaha just a little misunderstanding.



I think I died a little right there. I think my heart stopped for a brief period of time. Thanks for one last thrill, motherf*ckers!

Coming soon: The process server shows up at my apartment with an eviction notice! And then, while I'm on the phone with my sister ripping the realtor a new one, talking loudly, with all of my windows wide open ....... the realtor shows up at my apartment! Looking for a pat on the head, evidently, oh, and also to strongly ...... um ...... encourage me to get the hell out of my apartment ahead of schedule. News flash: No means no, amigo.





It's like the never-ending story around here, people!

Regrets .... I've seen a few .....

After looking at houses at the "top of the bottom" for several months, I can tell you one thing: I never want to see a set of train tracks again in my life.






Or garbage-filled lots:







Or warped walls:

Ummm... could somebody yell "Fire!"?:

Yeah, they really should've fixed that roof leak:

Let's not forget the Basements of Doom:

And remember all those great views?:

There were the crazy owners:

Although I have to give that woman props. She had to be pushing 70, yet she was still rocking the short-shorts, pantyhose, and hooker heels. Woot!


I will alway have a soft spot for the Lion King:

And now, today, six months later, the journey comes to an end. I'll kind of miss looking at all the crap houses; it kept me entertained all winter and spring. Good luck finding a buyer, all you poorly-constructed, poorly-maintained, poorly-located, poorly-decorated houses! Remember, everybody's gotta live somewhere!

HahahahaNO

The closing is scheduled for 4 p.m. today, with the final walk-through at 3. A few minutes ago, my realtor, who was supposed to accompany me on the walk-through, called and informed me that he had to be in Syracuse today, and I should do the walk-through by myself.


Fine.


Then, then, he said, "The closing on your apartment building was yesterday. You're going to be out by the thirtieth, right?" Note: The thirtieth is TODAY.


And I said, "Yes, the thirtieth of August."

And he said, "Oh, well, I thought you were going to be out the end of this month."

And I said, "Well, nobody ever sent me an eviction notice, so, NO, I am staying through the end of August." Bastard.


Remember back when this dude sold me down the river? Pressured me into finding a house right away so he could get a deal done?

Yeah. Oddly enough, I never DID get an eviction notice, and not knowing when my closing was going to happen, I never gave my thirty-day notice on the apartment. The next month's rent is due in two days, and you'd better believe that I'm mailing in that last rent check tomorrow. The full fucking amount. I'm taking the whole damn month. Fuck the realtor, whom I have not heard from in a month in a half. Fuck the apartment building's new landlord, who never ONCE bothered to contact me about my moving plans.

Bitter much? Why yes, yes I am. This whole home-buying thing has been unbelievably stressful. And now you want me out of my apartment by, well, today?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

NO.



Updated at 11:45 to add: The realtor's office just called and said that in addition to the realtor not being there for the walk-through, they hadn't unlocked the house yet, and would I mind stopping by their office to pick up the key?

Head exploding in three ....... two ........ one ..........

Bubble Yum

Because I could not, in all good conscience, leave a post about getting violently ill at the top of the page overnight, I give you this:

Do they still make Bubble Yum bubble gum? I got this lily plant from my sister Alabama. She had bought it, potted, at Lowe's one summer and put it on the picnic table on her camper's deck. When she got ready to go back south that fall, she asked me if I wanted it, and I said sure! and planted it in the side garden. Needless to say, this is one of the plants that will be coming with me when I move.

Because the flowers smell just like Bubble Yum.

Word

Warning: This post is NOT for the squeamish. If you don't want to hear me talk about my most recent disgusting illness, go somewhere else today!



When you wake up in the middle of the night realizing you've got about .02 nanoseconds to make it to the toilet before disaster ensues, and you spend the rest of the night both pooping your brains out AND puking up evidently everything you've ever eaten in your entire life, at one point throwing up so violently that puke is coming OUT YOUR NOSE, it's a pretty good bet that you're getting a day off from work.

It just won't be an enjoyable day.

And I alone survived

Not really, but I DID manage to get through a family reunion without killing anybody or getting drunk. Good for me!



And no, I'm not in the pic, so don't bother looking!

This was my favorite pic of the day:

Young mom and her baybee, playing in the fountain.

WHOOOOO-HOOOOOOOOO!

The attorney's office just called - we have a new closing date. NEXT THURSDAY.

Dudes, I am actually going to own. a. home. This one, to be exact:






And yeah, I know I've put these pics up before, but tough. I am so excited! Look at the size of this yard:







I think I'm actually more excited about the yard than I am about the house itself. The cats are going to loooovvve that yard. I am going to garden my butt off in that yard. That's MY yard. Holy shit! New home, here we come!

Wave your paws in the air

"Like Jesus, I am coming to KICK. YOUR. ASS."








Sunday morning, the cats and I were dozing, when I looked down to see that Little Girl was sleeping on her back, with her paws up in the air.


And just as I thought, "awwwww, how cute!", she evidently started dreaming, because her paws started twitching and then pedaling, all while she was sound asleep, on her back, with those little paws now going like sixty in the air.

Cutest thing ever? Possibly.

Oh, and since The Runt's mystery illness, the vet advised me that I should keep food, both canned and dry, out for him at all times, until he gains some weight. Now, The Runt is not impressed by this; I'll put out some fresh canned stuff, and he'll wander over, sniff it, do a little *nom nom* and walk away. But Little Girl? She spies the fresh stuff, and it's like her eyes light up, like, "aahhhhhh! MORE FOOD!" and she'll go over, put her head down, and *NOMNOMNOM* *urp* *NOMNOMNOM* until all the food is gone. Which is just charming, because she's just a petite little thing. Obviously, I'm going to have to start feeding The Runt separately, before Little Girl turns into a whale. But for right now, I have to say, it's funny as hell watching her get! so! excited! over the all-you-can-eat buffet.

Oh, and I'm not even gonna show her this:


Appetizers. For CATS. Now they've gone too far, dammit.

It's just the INTERNET, for chrissakes!

Evidently, some mommybloggers have got their tailfeathers all in a bustle about some other mommybloggers who get paid to endorse products and don't disclose the payments on their blogs. And the poor little mommybloggers got in such a twit that they are putting up buttons on their blogs stating that THEY, unlike certain other mommybloggers, "blog with integrity". There's evidently even a web site, blogwithintegrityDOTcom, which I refuse to link to, because I can't bring myself to click on it.

Seriously, peeps? I think these mommybloggers maybe have a leeeeetle too much time on their hands. Who gives a flying f*ck if somebody's getting paid to review a product? Who cares? It's the internet, for pete's sake! It's not like world peace is at stake.

Oh, and do not even get me started on the whole Blogher thing. Whoops, here I go: Blogher sounds like my worst nightmare. Several hundred women who can't hold their booze holed up in a hotel bitching about their PMS and showing off pictures of their ugly kids. You could not PAY me enough to attend that thing. And yet, some bloggers have been going on and on and on for MONTHS all about Blogher this and Blogher that and when I get to Blogher and blahblahblah ............ ummm, Blogher people? NOT EVERYONE IS GOING. You go, you have a mighty fine time, go ahead and puke in the hotel toilet because the last time you had more than one glass of wine was in 1997, but PLEASE give the rest of us a break. WE DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT. And if you come back from Blogher and post a bunch of pictures of hugging Blogher mommybloggers on your web site, I will never read your blog again.

There. I feel better now.

Holy shit I've accidently hit the motherlode of entertainment

For whatever reason (don't ask), I was wandering around on ebay this morning and decided to do a search for "Christian art".



HAHAHAHAHAHAHAA YOU GUYS!!!! This shit is un-be-liev-a-ble. My apologies to all you religious peeps out there, but seriously, check this shit out:



Watch out, kiddo! That GIANT BIRD is about to poop on your head!

And then there's this one:





All I could think of when I saw that image was that movie, that one with Sylvester Stallone in it, what the hell was it ......... Cliffhanger! Where he's out on the rope thingie trying to rescue a stranded climber and just as Stallone gets to him/her (don't remember), he/she slips off the damn rope and Stallone grabs his/her arm but he/she can't hang on and slips to his/her death and that's pretty much why I'm now terrified of heights. The end.


Oh but wait! There's more!




Yep, there's cool moe J, out for a little stroll ....... ON THE OCEAN! And look at the look on his face! He's all, like, "I am coming to KICK. YOUR. ASS."

Oh my Gah you guys, this is just too damn easy. I WILL NEVER HAVE TO STRUGGLE FOR BLOG FODDER AGAIN! I mean, not like I ever did in the first place, but still ..... easy pickins, rightcheer!



Oh, and I still want to know how much you pay for garbage service - do tell!

How much do you pay for garbage service?

I'm just curious, because for service at the new place, one local garbage company quoted me $18.90 a month, and a national company quoted me $15.30 a month, to put one 30-gallon can of garbage a week out to the curb. That's four bucks to put one lousy little can of garbage out to the curb.


What the *&%?!??


On the other hand, the city in which I work uses a by-the-bag system. You buy special city bags at the grocery store, fill them up, and put them out to the curb for collection by city workers. Each bag holds about twenty gallons.


Guess how much the city charges per bag?


Sixty-three cents.


It looks like I'll be buying the city bags, taking them home, filling them up, and bringing them to work to put out to the curb. Because I'm sure as shit not paying FOUR BUCKS A CAN to get rid of my garbage. But now I'm curious: How much do you pay for garbage service?

Basil, my ass

Some of you may remember my lovely fruit fly infestation. The vinegar trap that Listie suggested worked great, but I was worried that I was attracting fresh fruit flies with the bait. Plus, the sight of a bunch of drowned fruit flies was skeeving me out just a little. So I googled the problem (what the hell did we ever do without google?), and several sites suggested placing basil in the kitchen, as it repels fruit flies.

Not so much.

I got a big bunch of basil, broke off some sections, and scattered it around. Those little bastard fruit flies were hanging out on the basil, all, like, "Yay! A new place to party!"

F*ck.

I mean, at this point, there really aren't that many of them left, it's just the idea of the little buggers that's pissing me off.

Lucky for me, I'm moving soon. I hope the fruit flies don't decide to come along.

The Upstate New York Sunday Night Weather Rule

The Upstate New York Sunday Night Weather Rule holds that the weather can be absolutely sucky all weekend long; cloudy, rainy, cold, whatever; but late on Sunday afternoon, around five o'clock or so, when everybody's given up the weekend for a lost cause and we're all mentally preparing to start another work week, the clouds will part and the sun will shine and the temp will rise about twenty degrees.

I remember my Dad teaching me this rule when I was a kid, and it still holds true.

It's especially true if you've been out of town someplace "fun" all weekend. The clouds part about the time you've got to pack up the car.

Teh babeez are all grown up!

Check out the ospreycam, guys! The babies are ready to fledge! Go, little ospreys!

A few minutes with Andy Rooney

How many people work on The Pioneer Woman's blog? Seriously, there is no way one home-schooling mother of four is putting that thing together. I want to know how many people it takes to put that sucker up.



What is up with the fruit flies in my kitchen? Holy mother of God, I made the mistake of bringing THREE bananas into the house last week, and now my kitchen looks like a biology lab. And the annoying thing is, they don't seem to actually EAT anything, they just, well ..... hover. How the hell do I get rid of the little bastards?



I think Dooce's fifteen minutes are over. Once your second book comes out and you've got your husband working full-time on your blog (paging Jon Gosselin!), I don't think you can pretend that you're just a cute little mommyblogger anymore. And this week she's cranking up the latest spawn's birth story, which ....... no. For the love of God, Dooce, no.



It's mid-July, and the high temp this weekend is supposed to be 73. I haven't turned on my AC once this year, and I am not happy about that.



Anybody have anything to add? Anything driving you crazy lately? Feel free to chime in!

What is a flood vent, you ask?

Okay, okay, so technically, nobody's asking. But I am doing this as a public service today, in case you have found yourself in the position I was in a few weeks ago, frantically googling "what is a flood vent" in a desperate attempt to get my flood insurance premiums down to an affordable level. Because my insurance agent was helpful enough to mention that "flood vents" would reduce my premium, but he was not helpful enough to know what a flood vent was or how to install one.

And I found a ton of information via google, but most of it was put up by manufacturers of flood vents. Which was helpful, but naturally, these companies are pushing their own products, which are not cheap.

Here is the good news: You don't have to spend a ton of money on flood vents! All a flood vent is, is a way for water to flow unimpeded into and out of areas of your home (foundation, garage, etc.) that are in the flood zone. You need to have one square inch of opening for each square foot of area to be covered, and there has to be at least two openings, on two different walls, not more than one foot above grade, for each area.

Here is a flood vent!:





In the picture below, see that hole in the bottom of the garage door? That's another flood vent!




All you have to do is cut openings of the proper size, frame them, and screen them! That's it!

For more information, you can refer to FEMA Technical Bulletin 1 dated August 2008, "Openings in Foundation Walls and Walls of Enclosures". I'd link to it here, but I'm too lazy, so go ahead and google that. This technical bulletin has illustrations of the different kinds of flood vents, the parameters for which flood vents are acceptable, etc. Your insurance underwriter will probably want a letter from you stating exactly what you intend to do, the size of the openings, etc., and they may also want some pictures showing the installation.

There! I have performed my public service for today. You're welcome!

F*cking FINALLY

After weeks of wrangling with FEMA, the NFIP, and my insurance company, the flood vents have FINALLY been approved.

Hey, Fight Against Red Tape! Remember the big secret? This is it! Of course, it finally came to fruition TWO WEEKS after I thought the deal was done, but in the end all my painstaking flood vent research worked!

And instead of paying a thousand bucks a year *gulp* for flood insurance, I will be paying $429.00. For forty bucks worth of materials and a couple of hours of labor, I'm going to save almost $600.00 a year.

Whew.

Folks, I can usually roll with the punches as well as the next person, but this whole home-buying thing? Is a whole nother game. I actually had to go home sick yesterday, as my body finally started to collapse under all the stress.

Wake me when it's over, would ya?

Resting comfortably

Friday night, I picked up The Runt at the vet's. The digital x-rays, while fascinating (you could even see the gas bubbles in his intestines) revealed no abnormalities, so he was good to go. The vet's best guess is that he ate something (bird, chipmunk, mouse) that was diseased, and the bad meat made him sick.

Friday night and Saturday morning, he was fine, and then Saturday afternoon he crashed again; I think he'd just had a little bit too much at that point. Yesterday and this morning he was doing well; now I've just got to get him fattened up. He was skinny to begin with, and this episode brought more weight loss. He won't touch the special prescription canned stuff the vet sent us home with (of course he won't; the damned stuff costs over a buck a can!), but he is eating his regular food, and he continues to snarf down cat treats like a champ.

Now if I can just get him to lay off the wildlife. The cats' latest playtime fun is catch-and-release with grackles; they'll catch them, carry them around for a while like a stuffed toy, and then drop them so they go flying off. I can't even imagine how these guys are getting ahold of full-sized grackles, but hopefully the birds will wise up soon.

The Runt is coming home!

After two days in the vet hospital and every test known to man, the vets are basically stumped, but the Runt is doing better and he's coming home!

Early Wednesday morning, The Runt threw up. If you have cats, you know that's not unusual - cats are champeen thrower-uppers. But he also refused breakfast, and was acting really logy.

When I got home from work Wednesday night, he had thrown up again, and was laying on the bed not moving. I picked him up and he let out a pitiful little mew. I put him back down and called the vet's, because here's the thing about cats: By the time they are showing signs of being sick, they are almost always desperately ill. Cats hide their symptoms; it's a way of avoiding becoming prey in the wild. So when The Runt was acting sick, I knew there must be something really wrong.

We made a rushed trip to the vet's, where they determined that his vital signs were all stable and there were no obvious reasons for his distress. Oh, and there is a new vet at the practice: A newly minted Cornell grad! I think she's about half my age, which made me feel really, really old.

Anyway, The Runt was dehydrated, so they wanted to keep him overnight to get some fluids in him and run some blood tests. Oh, and if you're squeamish around needles, you DO NOT want to be in the room when they draw your cat's blood, because that needle is BIG. And it has a crook in it; I shit you not.

By this morning, I was heartsick. I hadn't heard anything in two days, and I was bracing for the worst. So when the phone rang and the caller ID revealed the vet's office, it was hard for me to pick up the phone. Keep in mind that I had been through this with another beloved cat not all that long ago, with heartbreaking results.

The vet must have known what I was going through, because his first words were, "The Runt can come home today". I think I went a little limp.

It turns out, as it sometimes does with cats, that they don't really know what happened. All they know is that he has his energy back and is eating, and seems to be past the crisis. They are going to do an x-ray before he comes home, just to make sure he didn't swallow something funky that got caught in his gut, but other than that, he's good to go.

Sometimes things turn out okay. The Runt is coming home.

Please

The Runt is ill.

He is currently at the vet's, receiving IV fluids and undergoing bloodwork.

If you could send a kind thought his way, it would be appreciated.

HahahahahaNOT

So! Earlier today I got a call from my realtor's assistant, whom I have not heard from in, oh, forever, and she's all, "Do you have your insurance yet? Because the closing's supposed to be next Friday, but the seller drives truck and is only in town on Thursdays, and he wants to close a day early."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

This is the same seller who took weeks to paint two flippin' doors (so the house would pass the bank's inspection), and who hemmed and hawed and stalled about allowing me access so I could install the flood vents. The same seller who STILL has not cleaned all his crap out of the house. (Although, honestly, I'd be GLAD to deal with the closets full of clothes, as long as he's willing to also leave the washer and dryer. But he's gotta take the Refrigerator of Death*. I have to draw the line somewhere.)

And seriously, this guy can't take ONE FREAKIN' DAY off of work in order to make $(insert large amount of money here)?

So now I'm supposed to hurryhurryHURRRRRRRY and get my insurance?

I'm .......... hurrying ............. so .............. fast ..............



*The Refrigerator of Death is in the garage. I made the mistake of opening it up the first time I looked at the house, and discovered that something had evidently crawled up inside it and gone to Jeezus quite some time ago. I'll not forget that smell anytime soon.

Dear Staples Office Supply Store:

Dear Staples:


Imagine my surprise when I stopped by after work last night to pick up some copy paper for the office and discovered that ...... well ....... you no longer sell copy paper.


It's true! After killing off the local competitors and outlasting Office Depot, you are now the ONLY office supply store in the area, and you have made the decision to STOP SELLING COPY PAPER.


The cashier advised me that she was taking a lot of sh*t for this decision that was made by corporate, and I believe her. She said they were still selling the "higher quality", i.e., more expensive, copy paper in the stores, just not the regular, everyday stuff. She told me that I would need to go online to order regular, everyday copy paper from now on, and there's just one little problem with that:


I'm sure that mine is not the only office where nobody realizes we're out of copy paper, until we're OUT OF COPY PAPER. You know how it goes: The copier starts flashing the "paper out" indicator, so you open up the cabinet to grab another ream, and ....... whoops! We're out of copy paper. Cue Staples run.


In other words, when I go to Staples for copy paper, I need copy paper right now. I do not have time to order online and wait two days for delivery.


So! Last night I ended up at Walmart. Where they sell copy paper. The cheap stuff. By the case. You know, the stuff my office uses. Thanks, Walmart!

Dear Staples: You suck.

Oh halp!

The library just called - three of the books that I had on reserve have come in.

This always happens! I put a bunch of books on reserve, books that have varying "wait" times, and they all come in at once, and then it's a mad scramble to try to get them all read before they're due back at the library, and they're usually non-renewable because they're in demand.

*sigh*

In other news, the Michael Jackson memorial service is today. Am I the only one wondering when they'll start selling off pieces of the body? I'm totally serious here. It would not surprise me at all.

Oh, and I'm still waiting to hear back from my insurance agent on the whole flood vent thing. I went ahead and had the vents installed (and you don't even want to know what a circus that was), and now, once again, I am having problems getting a person who is GOING TO MAKE MONEY OFF OF ME to get off of dead center and get their job done. I shit you not, every single person I've had to deal with in this whole house-buying carnival, from the realtor to his assistants to the seller to the mortgage people to the insurance agent, have dragged their feet every f*cking step of the way, regardless of the fact that NONE OF THEM ARE GETTING PAID until this deal is done.

*sigh*

Wow, I guess I'm just a wee bit cranky today. Sorry about that!

I can haz lawnmower?

Yes! I can haz!

Say hello to my little friend:






This is an Ariens, self-propelled, which I got off Craigslist for seventy-five bucks.


And I can even start it all by myself!


Now I just have to close on the house .....

Three Months

Number of cigarettes I would have smoked between April 3 and today, had I not stopped smoking: 2,700


Money saved to date: $481.50


Observation: People who never smoked do not think it's a big deal that you quit. People who used to smoke, and quit themselves, have evidently forgotten how blessed hard it is to quit, and do not think it's a big deal that you quit. Active smokers are threatened that you quit and stay away from you. In short, don't expect any kudos. From anybody. Which kind of sucks.


I sometimes dream that I'm smoking. In my dreams I'm driving in the car, and I look down and there's a lit cigarette in my hand, and the ashtray is full of butts. And in my dream, I'm all, "Oh nooooo! When did I start smoking again? Whyyyyyyyyy?"


And that's all I'm gonna say about dreams. Sorry about that brief lapse into dream analysis.



So! One-quarter of a year, smoke-free. Dear jeezus, I hope it gets easier.

Not in a billion years

From The Associated Press:

"Despite a fractured collarbone, a teenage girl clung to the wreckage of a plane for more than 13 hours before rescuers found her floating in the Indian Ocean, authorities said. The only known survivor of the crash, she was being flown back to Paris on Wednesday night."

Um, hello ....... flown back to Paris?

Peeps, if I was the only survivor of a plane crash that killed 152 other people, and then I had to cling to wreckage for 13 f*cking hours waiting for help, you had better believe that I would never, ever, ever get on a plane again. Don't talk to me about how it's safer than traveling by car, what are the odds it would happen twice, blah blah blah, I would never, ever fly again. I probably wouldn't even be able to look at a picture of a plane, let alone fly on one.

Jeezus.

Say WHAT?

I was listening to an interview on the radio last night, and this guy was talking about Sarah Palin's credentials (!), and he mentioned her "bona fides". Except he pronounced it "bona fee-dees", and I was all, WHAT??? Hahahahahaha! It's "bona fydes", jerk, not "bona fee-dees"!

But then I remembered how, for the longest time, I thought that "impotent" was pronounced "im-PO-tent". Ooops. And honestly, I'm STILL not sure where the emphasis goes on "intestate".

So what say you? "Bona fee-dees"? or "Bona fydes"? And are there any words that you butchered for an embarrassingly long time (see impotent) before realizing you were saying it wrong?