Honestly, I think that turning the clocks back this weekend so that it will be dark out at 4:30 is scary enough, but in case you want some more chills, here is a post I did a couple of years ago about the house I grew up in.
Now here's the thing: I don't know if "ghosts" exist or not. The mind can do all kinds of things to make you believe in something that's not really there. But there was something in that house. I will always believe that.
Here's my story:
I was born in upstate New York. My family moved into the house I grew up in when I was 10 months old, in 1963. They bought the house from the original owners, who had built the house a few years before, so the house wasn’t very old. It was a two story house built on a sloping lot, so the finished basement (rec room, laundry room, den, bedroom, bathroom, storage room) was partially below ground. The storage room in the basement was maybe 10’ x 15’ and was in the corner of the basement; there was something very, very wrong about that room. When you walked in there, the hair would stand up on the back of your neck. None of us ever actually saw any kind of apparition or anything like that, but you really, really didn't want to turn around sometimes.
There was a bedroom next to the storage room that was traditionally the room of the oldest sibling in the house at the time. (In a family of six kids, having your own room was a huge privilege!) Staying in that bedroom could be a scary experience. Sometimes I would be in that bedroom and just have the strongest feeling that I had to get out right that second; the worst part was, you had to pass the door of the storage room to get from the bedroom into the main part of the basement and up the stairs to the main living area. I remember steeling up my nerve to open up the bedroom door and get past that storage room door and across the basement to the stairs; by the time I hit the stairs, I'd be hauling ass so fast I'd scuttle up the stairs on all fours, desperately trying to make the door at the top before ....... whatever it was in the basement got me.
We always kept the door to the storage room closed, but it would often be open when someone would walk by. Lots of times I would leave my stereo on a particular radio station before I went to bed in the basement bedroom; when I got up in the morning, the radio would be on a totally different station at the other end of the dial. The living room was upstairs, and many, many nights we would be sitting up there watching TV while we listened to the furniture re-arranging itself downstairs. The floor downstairs was linoleum and the furniture was wooden “camp-style”, so it would make a very distinctive sound scraping across that floor. But when we would go down to check, the furniture would always be where it was supposed to be. Other times the downstairs rec room stereo would come blasting on in the middle of the night; as soon as you got to the top of the basement stairs, it would stop.
If we were in the basement, we could hear what sounded like people walking around upstairs, even when no one was up there. After I grew up and moved out, I would house-sit for my parents when they went out of town; I always stayed upstairs and made sure the door to the basement was shut and locked. When I'd get up in the morning, that door would be standing wide open. That happened a lot and almost gave me a heart attack every time.It wasn’t just our family who experienced this stuff; in-laws and friends were privy to these experiences as well.
It has been over twenty years since I lived there, and I still have nightmares about it. Especially the door to the storage room. When I wake up, I have to remind myself that I don't live there anymore. And I never have to go back.
Happy Halloween! And be glad you didn't grow up in a house like that, because really? It sucked.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
So, last night, I grabbed an ashtray .......
*gasp*
Wait! It's not what you think!
I was doing some hemming* in the living room, and I needed something to put the little bits of end-thread in.
Yeah, I've still got a couple of ashtrays, on top of the fridge. I have friends who smoke, and if they want to light up when they stop by, I'm not going to be one of thoseassholes hypocritical reformed ex-smokers who banishes people to the backyard to light up.**
For those of you who may be new here, I quit smoking on April 3. The same day an insane whackjob went berzerker and killed a bunch of people in my little town. An auspicious start, no? Nothing makes you want a cigarette like a crazed gunman on the loose.
But here I am, almost seven months later, able to grab an ashtray without wanting to run down to the quickie-mart and grab a pack of smokes to go with.
Onward!
*There's the real shocker - I was actually sewing! Alert the media!
**I mean, come on, up until this spring, I was the one smoking like a chimney. Just because I quit, it doesn't mean that everybody has to.
Wait! It's not what you think!
I was doing some hemming* in the living room, and I needed something to put the little bits of end-thread in.
Yeah, I've still got a couple of ashtrays, on top of the fridge. I have friends who smoke, and if they want to light up when they stop by, I'm not going to be one of those
For those of you who may be new here, I quit smoking on April 3. The same day an insane whackjob went berzerker and killed a bunch of people in my little town. An auspicious start, no? Nothing makes you want a cigarette like a crazed gunman on the loose.
But here I am, almost seven months later, able to grab an ashtray without wanting to run down to the quickie-mart and grab a pack of smokes to go with.
Onward!
*There's the real shocker - I was actually sewing! Alert the media!
**I mean, come on, up until this spring, I was the one smoking like a chimney. Just because I quit, it doesn't mean that everybody has to.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Deer poop and compost
Last night, and the night before, I was out raking the leaves in the backyard, in that brief interval between the time I get home and the time it gets dark out. Said interval is about to get drastically briefer this weekend, but I'm not thinking about that right now.
There really aren't all that many leaves out back, at least not compared to where I used to live, and I wasn't going to bother raking at all, but then I got a brilliant idea: Compost! Thelazy assholes people up the street load up their grass clippings in a wheelbarrow, wheel them down the street, and dump them on the town land adjacent to my property, so I figured, Bingo! I'll rake the leaves, layer them with the grass clippings, add in the coffee grounds from work, and I'll have nice earthy compost ready for use next spring!
Yeah, I'll let you know how that turns out. Like all my brilliant ideas, I'm sure it'll turn into a clusterf*ck of massive proportions. I'm good like that.
ANYHOW, I was raking, raking, raking, and noticing that holy cow, there's a lot of friggin' deer poop out here. We're talking piles and piles of poop. And I was all, like, yeah well, more organic material for me! I just raked up the poop with the leaves as I happily made my compost piles.
But then I got to thinking, what's that disease? You know, that wasting-away ....... Crutzfield-Jacob, is that it? Because I know I read something in the paper a couple of years back about how deer could be affected, and hunters should wear latex gloves when field-dressing their kill, and I wondered ........ is the disease in the poop? The poop that I'm raking into my compost piles?
Hmmmm .......... if the CDC comes for my compost in the spring, I guess I'll have my answer.
There really aren't all that many leaves out back, at least not compared to where I used to live, and I wasn't going to bother raking at all, but then I got a brilliant idea: Compost! The
Yeah, I'll let you know how that turns out. Like all my brilliant ideas, I'm sure it'll turn into a clusterf*ck of massive proportions. I'm good like that.
ANYHOW, I was raking, raking, raking, and noticing that holy cow, there's a lot of friggin' deer poop out here. We're talking piles and piles of poop. And I was all, like, yeah well, more organic material for me! I just raked up the poop with the leaves as I happily made my compost piles.
But then I got to thinking, what's that disease? You know, that wasting-away ....... Crutzfield-Jacob, is that it? Because I know I read something in the paper a couple of years back about how deer could be affected, and hunters should wear latex gloves when field-dressing their kill, and I wondered ........ is the disease in the poop? The poop that I'm raking into my compost piles?
Hmmmm .......... if the CDC comes for my compost in the spring, I guess I'll have my answer.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Hard-wired
Watching The Runt and Little Girl play with their various prey, I got to thinking about the hunting instinct.
You see, these cats came from a shelter. I got them, their brother and sister, and their mom as a foster when the kittens were wee. Their eyes had opened, and they were just starting to explore the world. Momma was feral; the entire time I fostered them, she only let me touch her once or twice.
Because they were fosters, I kept them inside the whole time I had them. Momma had no opportunity to teach her little babies how to stalk and kill prey.
But somehow, they knew. When I decided to keep The Runt and Little Girl, after the others had gone back to the shelter (their brother and sister were put up for adoption; Momma went to be a barn cat as she was too wild to be a house pet), I started letting them outside.
And they started hunting. And catching stuff. And (sometimes) eating it.
They didn't need Momma to teach them. They just knew. And I don't know how much patience it must take to catch a flippin' wild bird, but they've got it.
Do I feel bad for what they catch? Yes. Especially the birds. I love birds. I would gladly have a yard full of bird feeders and bird houses if not for the fact that, well, I have cats. Setting up bird feeders in yard with cats hardly seems fair.
And I wish, if they are going to hunt, they'd at least eat what they catch. A lot of the time, they just play with it until it's dead, and then walk away.
Other than keeping them inside, which I am not willing to do, I really can't control what they do.
They're animals, after all. It's in their nature.
But I will admit to getting tired of being on corpse-removal detail when they bring the stuff into the house.
You see, these cats came from a shelter. I got them, their brother and sister, and their mom as a foster when the kittens were wee. Their eyes had opened, and they were just starting to explore the world. Momma was feral; the entire time I fostered them, she only let me touch her once or twice.
Because they were fosters, I kept them inside the whole time I had them. Momma had no opportunity to teach her little babies how to stalk and kill prey.
But somehow, they knew. When I decided to keep The Runt and Little Girl, after the others had gone back to the shelter (their brother and sister were put up for adoption; Momma went to be a barn cat as she was too wild to be a house pet), I started letting them outside.
And they started hunting. And catching stuff. And (sometimes) eating it.
They didn't need Momma to teach them. They just knew. And I don't know how much patience it must take to catch a flippin' wild bird, but they've got it.
Do I feel bad for what they catch? Yes. Especially the birds. I love birds. I would gladly have a yard full of bird feeders and bird houses if not for the fact that, well, I have cats. Setting up bird feeders in yard with cats hardly seems fair.
And I wish, if they are going to hunt, they'd at least eat what they catch. A lot of the time, they just play with it until it's dead, and then walk away.
Other than keeping them inside, which I am not willing to do, I really can't control what they do.
They're animals, after all. It's in their nature.
But I will admit to getting tired of being on corpse-removal detail when they bring the stuff into the house.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Groundhog Day
Ah yes, here I am, back in the office again. Let's see, the last day I had off was ....... hmmm........ October 11.
Hell, I don't mind - I can use the money. I'd just like to be able to sleep in for a day. That'd be nice.
Oh, heck, who am I kidding; I'd rather work. I just had to put tires on the car. Show me the money!
Hell, I don't mind - I can use the money. I'd just like to be able to sleep in for a day. That'd be nice.
Oh, heck, who am I kidding; I'd rather work. I just had to put tires on the car. Show me the money!
Friday, October 23, 2009
Miss Doxie is back!
Miss Doxie, one of the first bloggers I started reading, and one of my all-time favorites, has returned!
Welcome back!
Welcome back!
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Little Savage
The Runt brought in (yet another) mouse last night. I heard him thud through the pet door in the kitchen, and watched as he trotted past me in the living room with his catch dangling out of his jaws. He headed for the hallway to enjoy a little snack. I've learned to leave him alone with his prey; if you get too close, he gets really defensive and starts to growl.
Anyhow, after a session of flinging the (now dead) mouse into the air and pouncing on it, he lost interest and walked away. I went over to initiate carcass removal and discovered that ......
Okay, here comes some quease-inducing info ...... I'm giving you a chance to click away now .....
scroll down ........
down ..........
down .........
......... The Runt had eaten the mouse's face off. Not the mouse's head, although lord knows I've cleaned up enough decapitated mouse corpses. No, just his face.
And then he ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.
Seriously, WTF? I hope when I die that somebody finds the body right away, because otherwise, it's gonna be gruesome.
Anyhow, after a session of flinging the (now dead) mouse into the air and pouncing on it, he lost interest and walked away. I went over to initiate carcass removal and discovered that ......
Okay, here comes some quease-inducing info ...... I'm giving you a chance to click away now .....
scroll down ........
down ..........
down .........
......... The Runt had eaten the mouse's face off. Not the mouse's head, although lord knows I've cleaned up enough decapitated mouse corpses. No, just his face.
And then he ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.
Seriously, WTF? I hope when I die that somebody finds the body right away, because otherwise, it's gonna be gruesome.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Live-blogging from the nuthouse
Right now, my boss is on a conference call with one of our clients. And they are discussing how Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh have it right, and our country is going to hell in a handbasket because of the liberals. And the word "fear" keeps coming up.
*gag*
You know what they're afraid of? They're afraid that now that a black man is president, their rich white asses are going to have to start paying their fair share. Because a non-member took over the club.
Oh shit, now they're discussing the genius of John McCain.
Gentlemen. For the record, John McCain is crazier than a shithouse rat.
Help me ........
*gag*
You know what they're afraid of? They're afraid that now that a black man is president, their rich white asses are going to have to start paying their fair share. Because a non-member took over the club.
Oh shit, now they're discussing the genius of John McCain.
Gentlemen. For the record, John McCain is crazier than a shithouse rat.
Help me ........
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Notes from the weekend
I spent all weekend at the office, working on billings and reports. It pretty much sucked, except for the whole time-and-a-half thing, which pretty much rocks.
On Saturday morning before I left for work, I had to dispose of a mole which the cats had thoughtfully brought into the house for me. When I got home Saturday afternoon, it looked like a bird had exploded in the hallway - tiny feathers everywhere. While looking for the remains of the bird (which I never did find - where is it?), I found a dead mouse under the couch. Last night they tag-teamed a mouse in the backyard, and The Runt later brought it inside for consumption. I think they're bulking up for winter. Just like me. Heh.
I was out in the backyard late Saturday afternoon and looked up to see a great blue heron sailing overhead, silhouetted against the darkening sky. Really pretty. This stuff only happens when I don't have my camera. Of course.
A local politician knocked on my door Sunday night, asking for my vote. You know, in all the years I lived in apartment buildings, I never once got visited by a politician. Now that I'm a homeowner? I'm like a rock star.
Anyhow, this politician mentioned how she (and her hubby, who is also running for office), had been to the ham dinner at the local church earlier. Not for a million bucks would I go through all the bullshit you have to do if you want to get elected to local office. There were a shitload of people-running-for-office at the community picnic I went to this summer; they all chatted me up and asked for my vote, but not one of them asked what my concerns were. Of course, I'm sure that they get told people's concerns all the time, sometimes loudly and angrily, but I'd be much more inclined to vote for someone who wanted to know what I thought.
Car in, car out - it worked! Thanks for the advice, Kit.
The Bills managed to win a game, which the commentators were lauding as some kind of freaking miracle, which ....... yeah. The problem is that they usually run out of steam by the fourth quarter. Oh, and all those penalties aren't helping, either. Plus, the other day the coach said he didn't know what the problem was ........ better figure it out, buddy. Otherwise, it's gonna be a long season.
So! How was your weekend?
On Saturday morning before I left for work, I had to dispose of a mole which the cats had thoughtfully brought into the house for me. When I got home Saturday afternoon, it looked like a bird had exploded in the hallway - tiny feathers everywhere. While looking for the remains of the bird (which I never did find - where is it?), I found a dead mouse under the couch. Last night they tag-teamed a mouse in the backyard, and The Runt later brought it inside for consumption. I think they're bulking up for winter. Just like me. Heh.
I was out in the backyard late Saturday afternoon and looked up to see a great blue heron sailing overhead, silhouetted against the darkening sky. Really pretty. This stuff only happens when I don't have my camera. Of course.
A local politician knocked on my door Sunday night, asking for my vote. You know, in all the years I lived in apartment buildings, I never once got visited by a politician. Now that I'm a homeowner? I'm like a rock star.
Anyhow, this politician mentioned how she (and her hubby, who is also running for office), had been to the ham dinner at the local church earlier. Not for a million bucks would I go through all the bullshit you have to do if you want to get elected to local office. There were a shitload of people-running-for-office at the community picnic I went to this summer; they all chatted me up and asked for my vote, but not one of them asked what my concerns were. Of course, I'm sure that they get told people's concerns all the time, sometimes loudly and angrily, but I'd be much more inclined to vote for someone who wanted to know what I thought.
Car in, car out - it worked! Thanks for the advice, Kit.
The Bills managed to win a game, which the commentators were lauding as some kind of freaking miracle, which ....... yeah. The problem is that they usually run out of steam by the fourth quarter. Oh, and all those penalties aren't helping, either. Plus, the other day the coach said he didn't know what the problem was ........ better figure it out, buddy. Otherwise, it's gonna be a long season.
So! How was your weekend?
Monday, October 19, 2009
Doo, doo, doo .....
....... lookin' out my back door.
That was this morning. Sorry for the poor quality; they were at the back of the property, about two hundred feet away, and I couldn't use a flash so I had to monkey with the image on flickr to get it view-able.
There were four of them all together, traipsing single-file through the back yard. I know that come spring I'll be cursing them for eating all my perennials, but right now they're cool.
That was this morning. Sorry for the poor quality; they were at the back of the property, about two hundred feet away, and I couldn't use a flash so I had to monkey with the image on flickr to get it view-able.
There were four of them all together, traipsing single-file through the back yard. I know that come spring I'll be cursing them for eating all my perennials, but right now they're cool.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Me vs. the garage door
When they started predicting snow for the end of this week, I cleared the lawn mower and other miscellaneous crap out of the garage so I could pull the car in. Last night, with snow on the way, I pulled into the driveway, eyeballed the width of the garage door, eyeballed the width of my car and ....... went for the tape.
Now, I always thought that the cars were as big as barges back in the 50s, but evidently I was wrong, because my house was built in 1952-ish, and the garage door is eight feet wide. My car? From side mirror to side mirror, is six-and-a-half feet wide.
Which leaves me with, let's see, nine inches of clearance on either side.
How do I phrase this: I am, ummm ...... spatially challenged. It embarrasses me to admit this, but folks, I have a hard time aligning my car onto the rails at freakin' Jiffy Lube. When I BOUGHT this car, I had the salesman drive it off the showroom floor for me, fearing disaster if I did it myself.
It did NOT HELP that on the local news last night, they had video footage of a woman in my town who hit the gas instead of the brake when pulling into her garage, firmly embedding her car in her kitchen.
Can you imagine? It's bad enough that it happened, but then it made the local news. She's never gonna live that down. "Hey, Betty, could you grab me a cup of coffee while you're in there? Or, you know, change the oil?"
I do not want to make the local news. So what will I be doing this weekend? Practicing. Car in, car out. Car in, car out. And hopefully I won't be picking up pieces of side-view mirror from the garage floor. Or, you know, backing the car out of the kitchen.
Now, I always thought that the cars were as big as barges back in the 50s, but evidently I was wrong, because my house was built in 1952-ish, and the garage door is eight feet wide. My car? From side mirror to side mirror, is six-and-a-half feet wide.
Which leaves me with, let's see, nine inches of clearance on either side.
How do I phrase this: I am, ummm ...... spatially challenged. It embarrasses me to admit this, but folks, I have a hard time aligning my car onto the rails at freakin' Jiffy Lube. When I BOUGHT this car, I had the salesman drive it off the showroom floor for me, fearing disaster if I did it myself.
It did NOT HELP that on the local news last night, they had video footage of a woman in my town who hit the gas instead of the brake when pulling into her garage, firmly embedding her car in her kitchen.
Can you imagine? It's bad enough that it happened, but then it made the local news. She's never gonna live that down. "Hey, Betty, could you grab me a cup of coffee while you're in there? Or, you know, change the oil?"
I do not want to make the local news. So what will I be doing this weekend? Practicing. Car in, car out. Car in, car out. And hopefully I won't be picking up pieces of side-view mirror from the garage floor. Or, you know, backing the car out of the kitchen.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Sometimes a great notion
Somewhere, the other day, I saw a silhouette image of a crow. And I thought it would be cool to put a few crows on one of my walls. I didn't want anything permanent, because I'm going to be painting the walls soon, so I decided on paper cut-outs. I went to Google Images and got a few crow outlines; I cut them out on paper and colored them black.
When I went to put them on the wall, I remembered that somewhere I had seen some kind of stencil of birds on a wire. (I have an awful time remembering where I've seen stuff; I swear, my mind is like a sieve. It processes everything, and most stuff passes through, but sometimes pieces get stuck, except I can't ever remember where anything came from to begin with.) So I grabbed some yarn and stretched it across the wall, fixing it with thumbtacks to the corner of the wall and a window frame. Then I took some sticky blob stuff (I can't remember the name of it; it's like chewing gum, and it's removable) and fixed the crow cut-outs on the wall.
Cooooooool.
And now I'm actually thinking of leaving that particular part of the wall blue, because it looks like sky. For the crows.
When I went to put them on the wall, I remembered that somewhere I had seen some kind of stencil of birds on a wire. (I have an awful time remembering where I've seen stuff; I swear, my mind is like a sieve. It processes everything, and most stuff passes through, but sometimes pieces get stuck, except I can't ever remember where anything came from to begin with.) So I grabbed some yarn and stretched it across the wall, fixing it with thumbtacks to the corner of the wall and a window frame. Then I took some sticky blob stuff (I can't remember the name of it; it's like chewing gum, and it's removable) and fixed the crow cut-outs on the wall.
Cooooooool.
And now I'm actually thinking of leaving that particular part of the wall blue, because it looks like sky. For the crows.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Peak!
I truly believe that for a couple of weeks every year, this is one of the most beautiful places on earth.
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Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Oh, no, not the Roloffs!
One show I really enjoy is Little People, Big World. Nothing ever happens, nobody gets hurt (well, except for the trebuchet incident), and life just rolls along.
So imagine my surprise when Mom Roloff started talking
d-i-v-o-r-c-e on last night's show.
Oh, Roloffs, et tu?
You can't help but be reminded of that other TLC show. Consider the similarities:
1. Family gets offered reality TV show because they're unusual.
Jon & Kate - She had a litter of kids.
The Roloffs - Some of them are Little.
2. The money starts to roll in, and home improvements begin.
Jon & Kate - They move into a McMansion and promptly start remodeling.
The Roloffs - Their house seems to be undergoing one continuous expansion, and the pumpkin farm keeps expanding, as well.
3. The hubby quits his day job and starts acting like a twelve year old.
Jon & Kate - Jon starts partying with teenagers.
The Roloffs - Dad Roloff builds a castle, complete with stone walls and throne room, for his daughter. His fifteen-year-old daughter.
4. Mom and Dad start talking about how they've "grown apart".
Jon & Kate - File for divorce. The Roloffs - Please, guys, you can work it out! I love your show!
So imagine my surprise when Mom Roloff started talking
d-i-v-o-r-c-e on last night's show.
Oh, Roloffs, et tu?
You can't help but be reminded of that other TLC show. Consider the similarities:
1. Family gets offered reality TV show because they're unusual.
Jon & Kate - She had a litter of kids.
The Roloffs - Some of them are Little.
2. The money starts to roll in, and home improvements begin.
Jon & Kate - They move into a McMansion and promptly start remodeling.
The Roloffs - Their house seems to be undergoing one continuous expansion, and the pumpkin farm keeps expanding, as well.
3. The hubby quits his day job and starts acting like a twelve year old.
Jon & Kate - Jon starts partying with teenagers.
The Roloffs - Dad Roloff builds a castle, complete with stone walls and throne room, for his daughter. His fifteen-year-old daughter.
4. Mom and Dad start talking about how they've "grown apart".
Jon & Kate - File for divorce. The Roloffs - Please, guys, you can work it out! I love your show!
So, in short, a reality show may net you a ton of money, but it's probably gonna end your marriage. Not a good trade-off, in my opinion.
Monday, October 12, 2009
I took the morning off from work and all I got was this lousy rash*
I took Friday morning off from work and borrowed one of my coworkers so we could do this:
This is why the guys at work hate me.
Actually, we kicked ass, putting up over 300 square feet of insulation in the garage in four hours. And the first hour was spent removing all the random shelving, nails, screws, etc. that the last owner had put up all over the place. I think when he got bored, he went out in the garage and pounded nails in the walls. Seriously, I could build an entire house with the nails I pulled out of those studs. He had nailed up cardboard as walls in some places, along with (some) drywall, all of which had to come down. Good times! I was hoping to find some money stuffed behind a wall, but the best I came up with was an old license plate and a cat toy. Oh, and a chisel.
And my coworker didn't even laugh at me when I couldn't figure out how to fill up his staple gun. (In my defense, I KNOW how to load MY staple gun; I just didn't know how to load HIS. And hooo boy that sounds not-quite-right, doesn't it?) I also had a hard time figuring out a caulk gun the first time I used it. Slow-on-the-uptake, that's me.
But! Now I'm ready for winter. As ready as I'm gonna be, that is. We had the first hard frost this morning, and the "S" word is in the forecast for later in the week. Time to bust out the heavy coats.
*On the back of my neck. From the fiberglass. Scratchscratchscratch all damn weekend.
This is why the guys at work hate me.
Actually, we kicked ass, putting up over 300 square feet of insulation in the garage in four hours. And the first hour was spent removing all the random shelving, nails, screws, etc. that the last owner had put up all over the place. I think when he got bored, he went out in the garage and pounded nails in the walls. Seriously, I could build an entire house with the nails I pulled out of those studs. He had nailed up cardboard as walls in some places, along with (some) drywall, all of which had to come down. Good times! I was hoping to find some money stuffed behind a wall, but the best I came up with was an old license plate and a cat toy. Oh, and a chisel.
And my coworker didn't even laugh at me when I couldn't figure out how to fill up his staple gun. (In my defense, I KNOW how to load MY staple gun; I just didn't know how to load HIS. And hooo boy that sounds not-quite-right, doesn't it?) I also had a hard time figuring out a caulk gun the first time I used it. Slow-on-the-uptake, that's me.
But! Now I'm ready for winter. As ready as I'm gonna be, that is. We had the first hard frost this morning, and the "S" word is in the forecast for later in the week. Time to bust out the heavy coats.
*On the back of my neck. From the fiberglass. Scratchscratchscratch all damn weekend.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Poltergeist
There's a huge willow tree in my backyard. It's really pretty cool looking, and when you get up close you can see how gnarled and twisty it is:
It looks like the tree in Poltergeist, doesn't it? The one that broke through the window and grabbed the little boy? Hmmmm, maybe that's why the previous owner screwed the windows shut.
The Runt's not afraid of it, though:
Kitty treehouse.
It looks like the tree in Poltergeist, doesn't it? The one that broke through the window and grabbed the little boy? Hmmmm, maybe that's why the previous owner screwed the windows shut.
The Runt's not afraid of it, though:
Kitty treehouse.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Well shit, nobody's stopping by anyway ........
.....and, it's down.
Thanks, guys, for all your nice comments!
Hope the pics didn't scar you for life or anything.
Thanks, guys, for all your nice comments!
Hope the pics didn't scar you for life or anything.
Monday, October 05, 2009
I HOPE it's some kind of fungus or something ....
'
See that blob, to the left of my foot? And that other blob, in front of my foot? And the OTHER blob, up at the very top middle of the frame?
'
That's in my backyard. And I'm hoping against all odds that it's some kind of bizarro fungal growth, because I don't even want to THINK about whatever size creature that would take that big of a dump roaming around in my yard.
'
But yeah, I'm pretty sure it's poop. GIANT CREATURE POOP.
'
So that's why the previous owner screwed the windows shut.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
SIX, motherf*ckers!
It's been six months since I had a cigarette. As always, let's roll the numbers:
Number of cigarettes I would have smoked between April 3 and today, were I still smoking: 5,400.
Amount of money saved: $963.00. Hmmm. That's about the amount I have in my checking account right now. So if I had kept smoking, instead of having almost a grand in my checking account, I'd have ........ zero. Nada. Zip. Whooooaaaa. There's some food for thought.
Is it still hard? Yeah, it's still hard. I still think about smoking every day. There are some days when I tell myself that I can do anything, anything at all, eat like a pig, get drunk, buy new clothes, anything, as long as I don't smoke. And while I usually don't end up needing to use the options, knowing they are there gets me through.
Although I will say one thing, it's a f*ck of a lot easier to abstain these days than it was in the beginning.
One foot in front of the other. Just keep going. Like the Bataan death march, gotdam it. Heeee. Just kidding. Sorta.
Number of cigarettes I would have smoked between April 3 and today, were I still smoking: 5,400.
Amount of money saved: $963.00. Hmmm. That's about the amount I have in my checking account right now. So if I had kept smoking, instead of having almost a grand in my checking account, I'd have ........ zero. Nada. Zip. Whooooaaaa. There's some food for thought.
Is it still hard? Yeah, it's still hard. I still think about smoking every day. There are some days when I tell myself that I can do anything, anything at all, eat like a pig, get drunk, buy new clothes, anything, as long as I don't smoke. And while I usually don't end up needing to use the options, knowing they are there gets me through.
Although I will say one thing, it's a f*ck of a lot easier to abstain these days than it was in the beginning.
One foot in front of the other. Just keep going. Like the Bataan death march, gotdam it. Heeee. Just kidding. Sorta.
Friday, October 02, 2009
I am totally using this pic on my Christmas cards this year ......
I know it's kind of blurry. But I love, love, love this picture! I got it in a bunch of old photos I bought on ebay.
So many questions ...... Where was this taken? In a park? Why is the guy in a dress shirt, petting a deer? Why is the deer just standing there? Is it a tame deer? Whatever happened to this guy? Whatever happened to the deer?
I just love old photos.
Thursday, October 01, 2009
Now I'm thinking I shoulda given the cats pseudonyms
A blogger whom I read every day and really admire has deleted her blog. A person she used to work with found it and threatened legal action over some of the stuff she wrote, even though she named no names. I'm assuming the legal action is over the fact that she wrote about how her co-workers were pretty much useless jerks. (I'm not going to use her name or the name of her blog here, just in case - her co-worker may have found her blog by googling her name.)
I don't even know what to say about this. I write pretty scathing stuff about family members and co-workers on this blog all the time. And here's the thing: I really don't care if someone in my family finds what I've written. As far as I'm concerned, what I write here is the truth, and if somebody doesn't like it, they can go piss up a rope.
But my co-workers? I have to work with these people every day. And while, again, what I write here is the truth, I would certainly not want to face "legal action" over it. It's just a blog, for Pete's sake.
So where does the line get drawn? It's okay to dis your family, but not the guy at the next desk? Even if you don't use any names, you can't write about the people you work with? I mean, I think we all know what it means to get dooced, and it still seems insane that someone could get fired over a blog.
Maybe it's not "just a blog", after all.
Oh, and when you google my name, it does not lead you here. But when you google the cat's names? Bingo.
I don't even know what to say about this. I write pretty scathing stuff about family members and co-workers on this blog all the time. And here's the thing: I really don't care if someone in my family finds what I've written. As far as I'm concerned, what I write here is the truth, and if somebody doesn't like it, they can go piss up a rope.
But my co-workers? I have to work with these people every day. And while, again, what I write here is the truth, I would certainly not want to face "legal action" over it. It's just a blog, for Pete's sake.
So where does the line get drawn? It's okay to dis your family, but not the guy at the next desk? Even if you don't use any names, you can't write about the people you work with? I mean, I think we all know what it means to get dooced, and it still seems insane that someone could get fired over a blog.
Maybe it's not "just a blog", after all.
Oh, and when you google my name, it does not lead you here. But when you google the cat's names? Bingo.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Like herding cats
Last night, the cats had to go for their annual checkups. Actually getting them to the vet's office is always a crapshoot, because (a) they spend most of their time outside, and (b) they most emphatically DO NOT come when called.
They were actually supposed to go last Thursday, but when Little Girl refused all attempts to come inside after two hours of calling for her, I had to call the vet and reschedule.
But last night, I lucked out. It was a crappy, rainy day, and when I got home from work they were both snoozing in the bedroom. I ran to the kitchen and locked the pet door to prevent possible escape attempts, and scooped them both up and into their carriers before they even knew what was happening. Success!
Then we got to the vet's office and had to wait for AN HOUR due to a surgery that ran long. I totally understand how shit like that happens (annoying though it may be), and honestly, the cats were so bored with the whole thing by the time they saw the vet that they kind of forgot to freak out when it was time for their shots. They still had to be burrito-wrapped for their rabies shots, because that's the one that involves an air gun that makes a loud POP when activated. And whichever son-of-a-bitch developed THAT particular vaccine-delivery system deserves to have it administered to himself. Repeatedly.
But! They were very grateful to come back home, eat dinner, and head right back out the door. And they are protected against rabies, feline leukemia, distemper, and who knows what-else-all for another year. Good to know.
They were actually supposed to go last Thursday, but when Little Girl refused all attempts to come inside after two hours of calling for her, I had to call the vet and reschedule.
But last night, I lucked out. It was a crappy, rainy day, and when I got home from work they were both snoozing in the bedroom. I ran to the kitchen and locked the pet door to prevent possible escape attempts, and scooped them both up and into their carriers before they even knew what was happening. Success!
Then we got to the vet's office and had to wait for AN HOUR due to a surgery that ran long. I totally understand how shit like that happens (annoying though it may be), and honestly, the cats were so bored with the whole thing by the time they saw the vet that they kind of forgot to freak out when it was time for their shots. They still had to be burrito-wrapped for their rabies shots, because that's the one that involves an air gun that makes a loud POP when activated. And whichever son-of-a-bitch developed THAT particular vaccine-delivery system deserves to have it administered to himself. Repeatedly.
But! They were very grateful to come back home, eat dinner, and head right back out the door. And they are protected against rabies, feline leukemia, distemper, and who knows what-else-all for another year. Good to know.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Misc. List
1. I have to decide whether to continue carrying collision insurance on my nine-year-old Saturn. Strongly influencing my choice is the knowledge that the day after I drop the coverage, someone will t-bone me at an intersection.
2. Despite warnings to keep it outside, last night the cats gifted me with an eviscerated mouse. All that remained was the back end, the spinal column and some unidentifiable organs. Thanks a bunch, sweeties.
3. The cats have to go to the vet's for their annual checkups tonight. Payback, muthas.
4. I've been trying to watch that documentary series thing about the national parks on PBS. Three words: Boring. As. Shit. Ken Burns, you need to change up your game.
5. I've discovered that when you buy a house, a list immediately appears of repairs that need to be made. The list is endless.
6. I haven't mowed the lawn for a couple of weeks now. I think it'll need one more mow to even it out, and that'll be it for the year. Then it'll be time to start shoveling snow.
7. I need to quit bitching. Look on the bright side: I'll never be bored, because there will
ALWAYS be something that needs to be done around the house.
8. Look! A rainbow!
2. Despite warnings to keep it outside, last night the cats gifted me with an eviscerated mouse. All that remained was the back end, the spinal column and some unidentifiable organs. Thanks a bunch, sweeties.
3. The cats have to go to the vet's for their annual checkups tonight. Payback, muthas.
4. I've been trying to watch that documentary series thing about the national parks on PBS. Three words: Boring. As. Shit. Ken Burns, you need to change up your game.
5. I've discovered that when you buy a house, a list immediately appears of repairs that need to be made. The list is endless.
6. I haven't mowed the lawn for a couple of weeks now. I think it'll need one more mow to even it out, and that'll be it for the year. Then it'll be time to start shoveling snow.
7. I need to quit bitching. Look on the bright side: I'll never be bored, because there will
ALWAYS be something that needs to be done around the house.
8. Look! A rainbow!
Monday, September 28, 2009
.... because I'm an idiot, that's why
Seriously? I know me. And I know that between now and next spring, I will have totally forgotten what the poison ivy on the edge of my property looks like. Thus, a visual aid:
I think I'll put that up as my screensaver. Just to make sure.
I think I'll put that up as my screensaver. Just to make sure.
Friday, September 25, 2009
I think it's a muskrat ....
See that thing there, in the middle of the pic, with a bunch of grass in its mouth:
I don't think he even noticed me standing on the bank. He just swam right by. (You can click on the pic for a supa-dupa closeup.)
'
And the fact that this little dude happily exists in his watery, wild home a couple hundred yards from my house? Blows my mind. We're neighbors!
'
I can't believe I'm here.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
I don't even know what this says about me .....
..... but I just signed up for a Saturday afternoon weatherproofing workshop at Home Depot.
Maybe I'm taking this whole "home-ownership" thing a little too seriously.
Maybe I'm taking this whole "home-ownership" thing a little too seriously.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Flintstones, Meet the Flintstones! They're a Yabba Dabba Family ........
Finally buying my own home got me thinking about apartment-building neighbors I have had. Several years ago, the person who owned the apartment building I lived in at the time at the time filed for bankruptcy, and the bankruptcy court appointed a lawyer to oversee the building. He was under instructions to keep the apartments filled, no matter what, and you can imagine what happened from there. Welfare city, baby.
I already wrote about Kelly. And there was the guy next door who broke into my apartment so he could use my phone to call phone sex lines, and threatened to kill me when I called the police. And then there was the couple downstairs, whom my boyfriend-at-the-time and I used to call Fred and Wilma, because they were so stupid, they were practically prehistoric. There was no love lost between Fred and Wilma and my boyfriend and I. One time I was looking out my (second floor) living room window. Wilma was downstairs in the driveway, saw me looking out, and actually spat upward at me. With predicable results (Me dry, Wilma wet). I still laugh when I think about that.
I wrote extensively about Jabba the Hutt, who was my impetus for finally getting off my keister and looking for a house. And then there was my last neighbor, the Pakistani terrorist. When he first moved in, I was just grateful to finally have a quiet neighbor. But then I noticed that he never left his apartment, like, EVER. He supposedly worked for a local IBM spin-off, but he'd be home when I'd leave for work in the morning, he'd be home when I got back from work, and his car never left the driveway. If he went out on the weekend, it'd only be for, like, fifteen minutes, and then he was back again. And he was really quiet, except for when people came to visit him, like, every few months, and then they'd all be up all night long, talking away in Pakistani. And he'd hoot. I shit you not, I'd be sitting reading a book, and all of a sudden I'd hear, "hooooot! HOOOOOOT!" coming from his apartment. It was the damnedest thing.
Oh, and the Pakistani DID NOT LIKE the lamp-stealer downstairs, because he thought the guy was a "thug" who "intimidated" him. The last I knew, the Pakistani was house-hunting, so he might not even be there anymore.
My gosh, these are just my apartment-building neighbors from the last apartment I lived in. I haven't even touched on the OTHER apartment buildings I've lived in, not to mention the trailer park. Stories for another day .....
I already wrote about Kelly. And there was the guy next door who broke into my apartment so he could use my phone to call phone sex lines, and threatened to kill me when I called the police. And then there was the couple downstairs, whom my boyfriend-at-the-time and I used to call Fred and Wilma, because they were so stupid, they were practically prehistoric. There was no love lost between Fred and Wilma and my boyfriend and I. One time I was looking out my (second floor) living room window. Wilma was downstairs in the driveway, saw me looking out, and actually spat upward at me. With predicable results (Me dry, Wilma wet). I still laugh when I think about that.
I wrote extensively about Jabba the Hutt, who was my impetus for finally getting off my keister and looking for a house. And then there was my last neighbor, the Pakistani terrorist. When he first moved in, I was just grateful to finally have a quiet neighbor. But then I noticed that he never left his apartment, like, EVER. He supposedly worked for a local IBM spin-off, but he'd be home when I'd leave for work in the morning, he'd be home when I got back from work, and his car never left the driveway. If he went out on the weekend, it'd only be for, like, fifteen minutes, and then he was back again. And he was really quiet, except for when people came to visit him, like, every few months, and then they'd all be up all night long, talking away in Pakistani. And he'd hoot. I shit you not, I'd be sitting reading a book, and all of a sudden I'd hear, "hooooot! HOOOOOOT!" coming from his apartment. It was the damnedest thing.
Oh, and the Pakistani DID NOT LIKE the lamp-stealer downstairs, because he thought the guy was a "thug" who "intimidated" him. The last I knew, the Pakistani was house-hunting, so he might not even be there anymore.
My gosh, these are just my apartment-building neighbors from the last apartment I lived in. I haven't even touched on the OTHER apartment buildings I've lived in, not to mention the trailer park. Stories for another day .....
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Help me, O wise Internet
The previous owner of my house had the washer and dryer in the garage. When I asked him, at the closing, if he had problems with the washer freezing up in the winter, he kind of hemmed and hawed and avoided the question. So, I am assuming that yes, the washer froze up.
So! I have a choice. I have been told that if I finish insulating the garage (a couple of the walls are insulated; a couple are not), I should be able to have a washer out there. And the furnace, which is in the garage, has a vent on the side so I could heat up the garage before I did laundry. Or, I can buy an apartment-sized (portable) washer and keep it in the kitchen; you know, the kind you hook up to the sink.
I don't really want an apartment-sized washer; I want a big one. But a full-size would have to go in the garage (that's where the hookups are), meaning I would have to find someone to do the insulation. And here's another problem: I know some guys who are unfortunately out of work and would be glad to help me out for cheap, but, well ....... they're drunks. As in, drunk-by-noon drunks.* And as someone who used to be involved with a drunk, it makes me really, REALLY uncomfortable to be around a hard-core drunk.
I could try to hang the insulation myself; is it hard to do? I'd probably buy those rolls; how do you get it to stick? Do you nail it to the walls? Oh, and if this involves any tools that could possibly injure me (power saw, nail gun) all bets are off. I know my limits. Should I just say screw it and buy the apartment sized washer? Could I buy a full-size washer, put it in the kitchen, and run a water hookup through the wall to the adjacent garage?
Questions. I haz them.
*Maybe that's why they're unemployed? Hmmmm.....
So! I have a choice. I have been told that if I finish insulating the garage (a couple of the walls are insulated; a couple are not), I should be able to have a washer out there. And the furnace, which is in the garage, has a vent on the side so I could heat up the garage before I did laundry. Or, I can buy an apartment-sized (portable) washer and keep it in the kitchen; you know, the kind you hook up to the sink.
I don't really want an apartment-sized washer; I want a big one. But a full-size would have to go in the garage (that's where the hookups are), meaning I would have to find someone to do the insulation. And here's another problem: I know some guys who are unfortunately out of work and would be glad to help me out for cheap, but, well ....... they're drunks. As in, drunk-by-noon drunks.* And as someone who used to be involved with a drunk, it makes me really, REALLY uncomfortable to be around a hard-core drunk.
I could try to hang the insulation myself; is it hard to do? I'd probably buy those rolls; how do you get it to stick? Do you nail it to the walls? Oh, and if this involves any tools that could possibly injure me (power saw, nail gun) all bets are off. I know my limits. Should I just say screw it and buy the apartment sized washer? Could I buy a full-size washer, put it in the kitchen, and run a water hookup through the wall to the adjacent garage?
Questions. I haz them.
*Maybe that's why they're unemployed? Hmmmm.....
Movie Review - The Wrestler
"The Wrestler" is about a washed-up professional wrestler (duh) who decides to make a comeback. Mickey Rourke plays the lead, and he's just fascinating to watch. He's got a body like you wouldn't believe, but his face looks like ten miles of bad road, which makes you wonder what the hell he's done to himself over the years. Marisa Tomei co-stars, and I've always had a soft spot for her, even though she seems to play the same character (hooker-type person with a heart of gold) an awful lot, and I'm beginning to suspect that she's not all that great of an actress.
Anyway, it was a really good movie, and for some odd reason, it wasn't nearly as depressing as the storyline would lead you to believe. I mean, as I was watching it, I kept thinking, "these poor peeps can't catch a break", but the characters just kept trying, kept plugging away, and it was actually kind of, well, uplifting. I recommend it!
Anyway, it was a really good movie, and for some odd reason, it wasn't nearly as depressing as the storyline would lead you to believe. I mean, as I was watching it, I kept thinking, "these poor peeps can't catch a break", but the characters just kept trying, kept plugging away, and it was actually kind of, well, uplifting. I recommend it!
Monday, September 21, 2009
Yeah, like THAT'S not gonna give me nightmares.
Warning: This post is NOT for the squeamish! You've been warned.
Friday night, I was out in the garage wrapping the water heater with insulation. (My new motto: "Insulate!")(I know, it's a thrill a minute around here.) I looked down on the garage floor and saw ....... something ........ some kind of fur. It looked like a little pelt, lying on the floor. I looked a little closer and saw what looked like .... teeth .... in the middle of the thing.
Holy shit, I thought. So THAT'S what's been smelly out here!
I'd been smelling a sort of an odor in the garage for the past few days. And in my usual highly efficient manner *cough*, my method of solving the smell situation was to walk around the garage, sniffing, wonder what the hell was smelly out there. Yeah, that works real good.
I'm not sure what that ...... pelt thing on the floor originally was. I'm assuming mouse or mole, but honestly, it looked kind of big to be that. But then again, I think I may have, um, stepped in it when I was working on the water heater, flattening it out some.
Jeezus, I'm giving myself the shivers again just thinking about it.
Anyhoo, just when you think things can't get any worse, you realize that you've got to get that thing OUT of the garage if you want the smell to stop. And, on closer inspection, you realize that the pelt is now host to lots of little writhing maggoty friends. Then again, once you realize that you've probably already STEPPED in it, how much worse can it get, right?
Time to grab the dustpan and a broom and man up. Scoop up the pelt thing and its little friends and heave it into the woods out back.
And try not to scream.
The end.
Oh, and thanks a lot, cats. Keep that shit outside, mmmkay?
Friday night, I was out in the garage wrapping the water heater with insulation. (My new motto: "Insulate!")(I know, it's a thrill a minute around here.) I looked down on the garage floor and saw ....... something ........ some kind of fur. It looked like a little pelt, lying on the floor. I looked a little closer and saw what looked like .... teeth .... in the middle of the thing.
Holy shit, I thought. So THAT'S what's been smelly out here!
I'd been smelling a sort of an odor in the garage for the past few days. And in my usual highly efficient manner *cough*, my method of solving the smell situation was to walk around the garage, sniffing, wonder what the hell was smelly out there. Yeah, that works real good.
I'm not sure what that ...... pelt thing on the floor originally was. I'm assuming mouse or mole, but honestly, it looked kind of big to be that. But then again, I think I may have, um, stepped in it when I was working on the water heater, flattening it out some.
Jeezus, I'm giving myself the shivers again just thinking about it.
Anyhoo, just when you think things can't get any worse, you realize that you've got to get that thing OUT of the garage if you want the smell to stop. And, on closer inspection, you realize that the pelt is now host to lots of little writhing maggoty friends. Then again, once you realize that you've probably already STEPPED in it, how much worse can it get, right?
Time to grab the dustpan and a broom and man up. Scoop up the pelt thing and its little friends and heave it into the woods out back.
And try not to scream.
The end.
Oh, and thanks a lot, cats. Keep that shit outside, mmmkay?
Friday, September 18, 2009
Getting to know you
This is a leetle blurry, as I took it through my screen door:
The black cat lives diagonally across the street. He's a rowdy little thing - last night he was doing a hinky boogie-shuffle across the road, skittering sideways and jumping at leaves. That's The Runt hunkered down on the right. They do a lot of posing, but I haven't seen any actual fights yet. I think they're just trying to sort out territory - some of the neighborhood cats cut through my backyard to go hunt in the woods.
Oh, and some good news - both of the cats finally figured out the pet door! Amazingly enough, The Runt was the first to go in and out, and now Little Girl has it down as well, although she still prefers to sit by the door and meow until I open it for her. She reminds me of my sister Ditzy - why do the work yourself when you can sweet-talk someone else into doing it for you?
The black cat lives diagonally across the street. He's a rowdy little thing - last night he was doing a hinky boogie-shuffle across the road, skittering sideways and jumping at leaves. That's The Runt hunkered down on the right. They do a lot of posing, but I haven't seen any actual fights yet. I think they're just trying to sort out territory - some of the neighborhood cats cut through my backyard to go hunt in the woods.
Oh, and some good news - both of the cats finally figured out the pet door! Amazingly enough, The Runt was the first to go in and out, and now Little Girl has it down as well, although she still prefers to sit by the door and meow until I open it for her. She reminds me of my sister Ditzy - why do the work yourself when you can sweet-talk someone else into doing it for you?
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Well, whadda you know ....
...... it turns out that "Movie Review: The Boy in the Striped Pajamas" was my 1,000th post. Woot for me!
Completely Unsolicited Product Recommendation
I noticed that the toilet in the new house had hard water stains in the bowl. I tried my regular go-to cleaner, Mr. Clean, and a scrub brush, with no results. Tried a couple of other cleaning products: No dice.
And then I remembered back many years ago, when I lived in a trailer park (that's right, I said trailer park) with hard water. And how the toilet bowl was awfully stained, and a plumber recommended Sno-Bol toilet cleaner. I'd never heard of it before, but I went to the store, bought a bottle, sprayed it in the toilet, and voila! Sparkly clean. Those hard water stains, which I had tried everything short of dynamite to get rid of, vanished in a minute.
Other places I've lived in between then and now did not have hard water, but I toted my half-full bottle of Sno-Bol from place to place, sure that one day it would come in handy. (Confession time: We are talking about approximately twenty years of shlepping a half-full bottle of Sno-Bol, retail value approximately one dollar, around and storing it on various cleaning supply shelves. I wish I was kidding, but I'm not.)
So! After scrubbing the new house toilet with other night, with no results, I went and grabbed my twenty-year-old bottle of Sno-Bol. Sprayed it in the bowl, and ...... yesssssssssss! No more hard water stains.
Sno-Bol. Remember the name. It's like a freakin' miracle for your toilet.
And sometimes that twenty-year-old bottle of cleanser? Comes in handy. If you're insane enough to drag it from place to place like some odd totem, that is*. I wonder if that tv show Hoarders is looking for new people. Call me!
*and people wonder why it took me A MONTH to move. Sheesh.
And then I remembered back many years ago, when I lived in a trailer park (that's right, I said trailer park) with hard water. And how the toilet bowl was awfully stained, and a plumber recommended Sno-Bol toilet cleaner. I'd never heard of it before, but I went to the store, bought a bottle, sprayed it in the toilet, and voila! Sparkly clean. Those hard water stains, which I had tried everything short of dynamite to get rid of, vanished in a minute.
Other places I've lived in between then and now did not have hard water, but I toted my half-full bottle of Sno-Bol from place to place, sure that one day it would come in handy. (Confession time: We are talking about approximately twenty years of shlepping a half-full bottle of Sno-Bol, retail value approximately one dollar, around and storing it on various cleaning supply shelves. I wish I was kidding, but I'm not.)
So! After scrubbing the new house toilet with other night, with no results, I went and grabbed my twenty-year-old bottle of Sno-Bol. Sprayed it in the bowl, and ...... yesssssssssss! No more hard water stains.
Sno-Bol. Remember the name. It's like a freakin' miracle for your toilet.
And sometimes that twenty-year-old bottle of cleanser? Comes in handy. If you're insane enough to drag it from place to place like some odd totem, that is*. I wonder if that tv show Hoarders is looking for new people. Call me!
*and people wonder why it took me A MONTH to move. Sheesh.
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 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.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
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'.
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.
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.
Monday, September 14, 2009
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.
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!)
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?
Friday, September 11, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
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.
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?
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?
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
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.
My family alternately amuses the heck out of me and depresses me. I'd have to guess that I'm not alone there.
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
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:
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!
Friday, September 04, 2009
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.
(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.
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.
Thursday, September 03, 2009
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!
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!
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
.... 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!
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!
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Monday, August 31, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
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.
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.
*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.
Monday, August 24, 2009
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?
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.
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.
Friday, August 21, 2009
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!
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!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
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*
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.
Thank you for helping me feel at home in my new neighborhood.
*They're going to Hawaii. I am SO JEALOUS.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
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.
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
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?
Monday, August 17, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
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.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, August 10, 2009
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?!
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?!
Thursday, August 06, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, August 03, 2009
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.
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?
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?
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