It's like giant metal chickens, only cheaper

Last Thursday, I went out with a friend and her daughter... we went to a movie, lunch, and then a rather ill-advised trip to Target.  I went in intending to buy dog treats and toilet paper.  I came out $147 poorer.  Long story.  Also, Target employees look at you strangely if you start sword fighting with water noodles in the aisles. 

Anyway, one of the impulse purchases was a new shower curtain and rod.  Wait, can it be called an impulse purchase if you've been planning to do it for over 3 years?  Hmm.  See in my bathroom, there is this huge handy shelf area behind the door:

(apparently red-eye reducer doesn't work on dogs.  he's not really satan, he just likes to pretend)

Well I love my handy dandy shelf area for collecting all my girly stuff.  But I hate that it's just shelves and not a closet.  But I don't want a door there... for many reasons.  1. I don't want to have to build up the wall and install a door, 2. I don't really want it COMPLETELY closed in cuz we've had mold problems in the basement and air circulation is a good thing, and 3. the two doors banging into each other would suck.  So I got the brilliant idea to just get another shower curtain and hang it up to kinda block off the view to all my girly stuff. 

Aaaaaaaand we're back to the beginning of the story.  Semi-impulse-shopping at Target.  However, in my state of delirium, I forgot shower curtain hooks.  Rod?  Check.  Curtain?  Check.  Method to connect the two?  Fail.

The hubby was out of town at the time, didn't come home until Sunday.  Actually didn't come home until really late, I was already sound asleep by the time he got here.  Monday morning I get up and head to the basement for a shower and look what was sitting on my bathroom counter!

I fired off an email to the Designated Hitter "Guess what?  Some asshole broke into our house and left trash on my bathroom counter!  What the hell?!"  He's so damned sweet, he offered to put up the hooks for me.  *sigh*  When I told him they were going in the trash, he pointed out that it would be way funnier to regift them this Christmas... he and my grandma have had quite the tradition of giving each other rival team gifts over the last few years.  So now I need to stow them somewhere for the next 6 months and hope I don't forget come December!  *double sigh*

If it sucks, you can eat a sandwich

(First - a question: Am I supposed to capitalize every word of my blog post titles?  Not capitalizing makes it look weird.  Capitalizing makes it look too formal.  This is why I hated English classes!)

(Second - a confession.  I have two or three started-but-not-finished saved drafts of posts.  I'm going to try to rectify that situation)

My parental unit came to visit last weekend.  We hit a local Mardi Gras party, and went to a music show.  And played a lot of cards.  And ate a lot.  The title of this post came from the weekend.  First, I cooked something in the crock pot for dinner Friday night.  I wasn't sure when everyone was going to get here, mom and dad were driving in, Hitter was coming from a business trip, crock pot food can kind of hang out and wait until everyone's ready.  Perfect. 

I titled this picture "Surly Crock Pot"



Problem.  I felt compelled to make a recipe I'd never tried before.  So... I told everyone "if it sucks, you can eat a sandwich!" which then kind of became catch phrase of the weekend.  Saturday night, dad wanted wings from a restaurant where I had no idea how the wings were... so I told him to go ahead and order them, and if they suck he can go home and eat a sandwich.  Sunday we had no idea what we were getting into with the music show, it was something none of us had heard of before.  So... you guessed it!  "Well I guess if the show sucks we can always leave... and come home and eat sandwiches" 

And that explains the title of the post.

New topic: I've been having more fun with cameras.  I've officially become a photography nut.  Not a photographer, not even someone whose hobby is photography.  I'm just nuts.  On a high note, I finally learned how to use the dSLR on manual setting.  On a low note, I've become a little disillusioned with that camera and want a shiny new big fancy one.  Except I don't have a spare $1500 laying around.  And I want a macro lens, but I don't have a spare $500 laying around either.  *sigh* 

Which brings me to my next point.  Money doesn't buy happiness.  Yeah yeah I know, you hear that all the time.  And if you don't have money, you think this is a whole load of crap.  Hear me out.  Actually, don't.  I think everyone should quit reading.  Because I'm about to have the world's biggest pity party.

I really know how to have a good time, huh?  Okay let me start by saying I know I have it pretty good.  And I hate it when I go into a pity party because I know that there are gobs of people that would love to switch places with me.  And I WOULDN'T want to switch places with most of them.  So life is peachy, right?

Wrong.

There's still something missing.  And it's a biggie.  And it's not something I can buy.  Nor is it something Hitter can buy for me.  Sometimes I tell Hitter that my life was easier when I was poor.  Crazy, right?  But it's true. 

I miss independence.  I miss freedom.  I miss privacy.  I miss respect. 

I keep having recurring dreams where I'm back in college.  I dream about the town, I dream about classes and homework and professors, and I dream about the dorms.  (Irony, huh?  Privacy... dorms... yeah right!)  Everyone keeps reminding me "you can't go back, it wouldn't be the same" and 1. yeah I know that 2. I'm not going to go back, am I? 3. even if I did go back I wouldn't want it to be just the same... but mostly I can't go back.  However, it's not that I want to go relive my college days, it's that I miss what college represented.  Friends.  Independence.  Fun.  Making my own decisions.  Making do with what I had.  Doing crazy things because they were fun.  Making new friends everywhere I went.  Teetering on that line between fun and stupid.    Did I mention friends?  And fun?  Yeah.  Not just fun and friends though, I worked.  I went to class and had a job.  I had a job I loved, and I gave up the traditional spring break so I could go get another job.  I spent my summers on internships.  But they were what I wanted to do.  My decisions.  My independence.  MY LIFE. 

I have NONE of that now.  I am stuck in this Hillbilly Hell/Snooty City with no friends.  I can't do anything with my life cuz I'm stuck here where there is nothing for me.  I can't do anything without clearing it with my warden husband first.  And he's a fun-hater.  So I buy myself things to try to get happy... but it doesn't work. 

It sucks, and I eat a sandwich.  I hate pity parties.  They make me feel ashamed of myself.  And all they serve are sandwiches.  Bleh.  Mostly I'm ashamed though, sandwiches are okay.  I kinda hate myself a little bit.  And I don't know what to do about it all. 

Potpourri Pot (heh heh I said "pot")

This is going to be a little bit of everything.  Total mish-mash.  Lots of things to talk about, none of them worthy of their own entire post.

Remember that midlife crisis I had last fall?  Yeah it's still going on.  Yesterday morning I was on the phone with Hitter (he was out of town over the weekend) and he tells me that his HR guy had sent him an email about a new job opportunity (just a new role within the same company)  This is not surprising, this company plays apple-cart-upset about every 18 months or so, and Hitter's been in this same role for 3 years now, so he's WAY overdue for a shakeup.  Of course I never really look forward to these games of corporate musical chairs, because this happens:

Yeah.  That's a lot of fun to deal with.  Side effects include irritability, short temper, complete lack of understanding, and general assholedness.  Except he's already been like that lately with the current position, so how much worse can the transition to something new be? 

Famous last words.

So anyway, I just kinda went "yeah whatever okay" when Hitter mentioned possible new position.  Right up until he said that it would involve a move.  And then my emotions got on the biggest baddest roller coaster ever. 

Just a few colors short of a Jackson Pollock painting

"OMG I might actually get out of Hillbilly Hell?!"

"Wait, when I imagined moving away, it wasn't to go to the east coast.  Ugh"

"Well, we wouldn't stay there for more than 2 or 3 years, I can do that.  And I'd get to move!"

"Hitter would never go for that, he couldn't be that far from his family"

"God what an ass, he is the reason I am so miserable!  Why won't he move away from here?  I hate Hillbilly Hell!"

"Wait, I'm a shitty wife.  Could I really move that far away?  I'd have to fly EVERYWHERE and I hate to fly.  So really I'm just blaming him and using him as the scapegoat but I wouldn't like it either"
"But there might be work and/or school opportunities out there that don't exist here"

"But the east coast is one giant city running into the next giant city, and my biggest problem here is that it's a freaking city"

"Seriously though, I want to get the hell away from this damned place!  I don't even care where I'm going next"

"Although... I'd have to leave my house and my pool and I kinda like them.  And I probably wouldn't get anything I'd like out there"

"But it would be an opportunity to get away from everything around here that's making me miserable, including my family."

"Except I probably won't be happy out there either.  I'm not sure if I've ever been happy.  And I don't think I ever will be happy.  Ugh.  Just... ugh."

It's like the lamest roller coaster ever.  Anyway the good news is I don't need to worry about it anymore because Hitter said he isn't taking it.  He wouldn't like the work, it's way out of his comfort zone and possibly not even something he really agrees with.  Althoug who knows with him, because he pretty much agrees with anything the Beloved Corporation does. 

So I think I'll quit thinking about that.  Or maybe I'll just quit thinking.

Random Internet Stupidity:

I got this in an email.  Don't get me wrong, I love me some Mike Rowe... *drool*... but seriously?  He's doing videos telling idiots they need to get their oil changed?  Wow.  I can't decide whether to be more annoyed by Ford thinking they need to make videos telling people that if the check engine light comes on you'd better... well... check the engine, or by the fact that I think Mikey boy has finally hit the "overexposure" status.  Perhaps a while ago. 

His voice is still dreamalicious though. 

New subject: my year-in-pictures is still going, although sometimes it's not very interesting.  I made it all the way to oooooooh about January 11 before I realized that some days I just don't have anything photo-worthy in my life.  So I've been randomly filling the boring days in with extra pictures from interesting days.  In some ways, that's probably a good thing though.  Then I can remember that good things do happen sometimes, and occasional boring days aren't the end of the world.  [/philosophical comments]  And then there were a couple days when I had specific pictures in mind that I wanted to use on those specific days... didn't get the pictures... and then didn't update the album. 

Today I had to catch up on two weeks worth of pictures.  There was much procrastination of anything that others would consider "productive".  Kitchen's still a mess, house didn't get cleaned, dog needs more exercise (although thank goodness the co-dependent beast actually spent an entire half hour in the back yard today without me) laundry didn't get done, trim didn't get painted, closets didn't get decluttered, office stuff didn't get organized, and most importantly, Hitter's model train didn't get landscaped.  Most importantly to him anyway.  I really don't care much, and I didn't feel that his hobby needed to be prioritized above mine, but I'm probably still going to catch hell for it tomorrow when he gets home.  *sigh* 

I think that's enough for now.  Way past my bedtime. 

Two Days: Gone

I officially need something to do with my life.  I have spent most of the last two days doing the following:

1. Watching old Doctor Who reruns.  And new Doctor Who reruns.  And realizing that Doctor Who is totally Barty Crouch Jr.  That last one kinda sucks, really.  Cuz Doctor Who is awesome, and Barty Crouch Jr. was a complete asshole. 

2. Watching Eagle Cam.  Up in Decorah Iowa there is a fish hatchery.  Right near the fish hatchery, there is a bald eagle nest.  Some people who might be bigger nerds than I am (I say that with the utmost of love and respect... I adore nerds) have put two webcams up watching this eagle nest.  It streams, live, 24 hours a day (one of the cameras is infrared equipped for when the sun goes down) at http://www.raptorresource.org/ and there are a whole bunch of us dorks with nothing better to do than watch these eagles try to make a comfy nest in the middle of the ice and snow. 

Apparently it's still freaking cold in Decorah Iowa. 

When the nest is covered in snow, it kind of looks like a powdered sugar topped funnel cake.  NOW I WANT A FUNNEL CAKE, DAMMIT!  It looked like that this morning, but mama and daddy eagle have been working on the nest and now it mostly looks like a nest again.  This is halfway through the re-nesting.  It's even more cozy now. 

Speaking of nest, that thing weighs 1.5 tons.  TONS!  It's 6 feet in diameter.  And it's actually kind of a smallish, newer nest.  They just started this nest in 2007... the previous nest fell out of the tree when a branch broke in a windstorm.  Don't stand under it in a wind storm. 

Speaking of things to not stand under... today daddy eagle brought mama eagle a dove for lunch.  After mama had her fill, well, don't stand under the eagle! 

not shown: eagle poop

One of the cameras is fixed, the other can be manually operated.  The operator can pan around (i.e. the poop image above) and he can zoom in.  At one point I'm pretty sure daddy eagle looked me square in the eyes and saw all the way through to my heathen unpatriotic soul. 

At the peak of nest-building and camera-operating, the viewer count climbed over 1200. 

Meanwhile, I sit here watching it and the size of my ass also goes over 1200...  or something like that.  I should get up and do something productive with my day, especially now that the eagles are off doing something with their day. 



*All images are screengrabs I took while watching the video.  Credit goes to http://www.raptorresource.org/ go and give them advertising dollars or something. 

P.S. I didn't turn the computer off in time.  They both just showed up for some more nest building.  They're getting close to egg-laying time!  Oooh and daddy brought lunch!  Which led to a fight.  C'mon daddy, let mama eat... she's gotta make eggs. 

P.S.again if you do go watch eagle cam, be prepared for bloody lunch.  The circle of life is shown.  And eagle poop. 

I need a hobby.  Or a job.  Or a life. 

No, You Choose. Really.

An email conversation, for your enjoyment.  My friend... we'll call her Patty... and her husband were going to meet Hitter and me for dinner after she got off work last night.  And the following insanity ensued:

Patty (5:07 pm) Hey... are we still meeting tomorrow?
Me (6:12 pm) Yep we're planning on it.  You have to work, right?  Wanna meet somewhere halfway-ish?
P (7:31 pm) You pick.  We'll meet you there
P (8:24 pm) PS Hubby says no mexican, he's still allergic to seafood.  How about that fancy BBQ place halfway between us?
(me, inside my head: he's STILL allergic to seafood?  did he think that would go away?  and you ate at a mexican restaurant that serves FABULOUS shrimp enchiladas twice in the last month, so WTF?)
Me (8:34 pm) Perfect, I've been wanting to go there. 
P (8:48) Reservations are required.  How about 7:00?  Do you want to call or should I?
(and before I even had a chance to respond to this email or call)
P (8:52) Earliest reservation is 9:00, I said no.
(the next two emails were sent simultaneously)
Me (8:55) Yeah that's a bit late.  What about 1st Ave?  No reservations required, and Hitter and I can get there a little early to get our name on the list. 
P (8:55) I know Hubby said no mex, but what about Vista Grande?  I know we can sit around and drink and not get run out.  Let me know your thoughts.  No strip clubs.
Me (8:56) I wasn't aware there were any strip clubs around here!  Can your hubby stay sufficiently seafood-free there?  I mean I want to see you guys but it isn't worth anaphylactic shock!
P (10:32, replying to my 1st Ave suggestion) K, where is that?  I mean I know it's on 1st Ave, but which town?
Me (5:55 the next morning, 10:30 is WAY too late for me) Whoops!  I meant 1st Ave Grill!  It's across the street from the mall, just down the street from the fancy BBQ place you'd suggested.  (sidebar: I don't even know where there is a "first avenue" around here... they don't name streets that way in this little section of Hillbilly Hell)
P (7:58) Bandana's BBQ.  7:15.
(me: reading entire email thread to Hitter, laughing at how "you pick" turned into "here's what you're doing, and you're going to like it")
Me (12:05) OK see you then.
P (12:50) Is that ok?
Me (1:14) Yep
(me, inside my head: do I even have a choice?!)

This totally brought back the memory of the night, in the first year of our marriage, that Hitter offered to take me out to eat, and said "anywhere you want to go... your choice" 
Me: Italian
Him: No, I just had that yesterday at work
Me: Chinese
Him: No, I'm not really in the mood.  How about Mexican?
Me: what happened to "anywhere you want to go"?????
and for those keeping score, we still went for Mexican food. 
Hi, I'm a doormat.  How are you?

Oh great, I have a creepy stalker

As usual, I feel compelled to refer my readers back to a previous post, this time the sleepless adventure.  It's an obsession, don't mind me.  And it turns out I apparently have at least three readers!  There's Best Friend in the Eastern time zone, Best Friend in the Mountain time zone, and a new reader who works for a company that manufactures a product I previously referenced.  I'm not going to say which one, but the item in question is a piece of furniture upon which people sleep... using their number...  and I hate said product. 

I mean it's one thing to want people to read your blog.  But I'm not sure a customer service rep was exactly what I had in mind.  Especially one who is trying to convince me to love Hitter's bed.  First of all, how cushy of a job is that where he just reads blogs all day searching for product complaints?  Secondly, it was NOT a robot-reply, a human being had actually read what I wrote and looked at my pictures.  He referenced things that were very specific to me.

Also, I'm definitely not posting about this on Facebook... one of my nerdy high school friends will correct my damned grammar!  Asshole.  I didn't really mind the first comment too much, but the second friend thanking the first one kinda pissed me off.

I seem to be on a tangent. 

Moral of story here is new readers are good, creepy customer service stalkers are creepy.  (Clarification: new readers who are NOT members of my family, or friends of members of my family, or who would in any way shape or form let this crap get back to my family.  I think I need to delete all the family stuff and then not worry about whether or not the blog goes public)

God wants me to be rich, Part 2

Remember when the fates were giving me money?  It's happening again.  Well, the fates are trying, but MasterCard might be resisting. 

MasterCard is an asshole.

Clear back in December, I had just received the next two DVDs in my Netflix queue and I went to pop them into the DVD player in the living room and watch......

Wait, I need to give some background.  I'm a tightwad.  Sometimes.  I mean I had to get a camper and a brand new car and a smart phone and a laptop and a swimming pool and an acreage and new office furniture and my shiny new KitchenAid and... and... and... other stuff.  But by gosh and by golly I do NOT need to be spending $35 on a cheap little DVD player for the living room, because we have a portable take-along-in-the-car DVD player that has cables to use with a regular TV too if you want to.  And that's good enough for me! 

I may be a hypocrite.

So this portable DVD player doesn't just have a tray you drop the DVD onto, it has that little spindle thing that the DVD snaps onto. 

And nothing happened.  The DVD wouldn't play.  Wouldn't even get to the menu, much less actually play the movie.  So I opened it up to take the DVD out and check for scratches or dirt or whatever, which is a pretty common issue with Netflix.....

Discs snapped in half are not so common.  *sigh*  So I get out the other movie, checked it to make sure it wasn't broken before putting it in, stuck it into the DVD player, pushed play... and.....

*sigh*

Cracked that DVD too. 

At this point I was left with a moral dilemma.  Do I just stuff the DVDs back into the envelopes and ship 'em, hoping Netflix thinks they broke in the mail? Or do I not be a big fat jerk, and actually 'fess up to the fact that I broke them? 

I tried to be an asshole.  I really did.  I had gone so far as to put them back into their envelopes and seal it all up, and had them sitting on the TV cabinet waiting to go out in the mail.  But then the goody-two-shoes inside me took over and was all "that's just not right" so I got on the Netflix website and clicked on the "I lost or broke a DVD" button... twice... and they charged me like $30 for the two movies.  But at least I still had my soul...

Fast forward to last week.  We're having the Winter Storm of the Century (aka Snowpocalypse, aka Blizzargeddon) and we get a phone call from MasterCard asking if I was off making hundred dollar purchases at 4 different pharmacies that day.  Kudos to our credit card company for calling immediately (unlike fucking Citi Card and their shitty fraud detection unit... but that's a post for another day) so we got my card canceled and they're issuing me a new one. 

Fast forward to yesterday.  I've had two other movies out for like two weeks now... which is a stupid giant waste of money... and I need to go run some errands anyway, so I plan to take the two movies along and stuff them in the nearest blue box.  I grab two red Netflix envelopes from the top of the TV and head out the door.  Then last night I'm sorting through my mail... and find a Netflix envelope.  Hmm...  Did I mail back the Wii disc? 

Then this morning I open my email. 

I had mailed back the broken DVDs... that I had already admitted to breaking...

AND NETFLIX REFUNDED MY MONEY!

To the credit card that was emergency-closed last week.

I'm not entirely sure I'll ever see this money, but God wants me to be rich.  And that makes me happy.

P.S. Now I need to find where that other movie is...  and I'm clueless.

A Photographer's Guide to Photography

Pileated Woodpecker:

(he's the one on top)



Some of you may recognize that tree and birdfeeder from the raccoon incident.  Slight change of season.  Anyway, pileated woodpeckers are becoming a bit of an obsession of mine.  We have a mated pair that lives in our area and come to Hitter's suet feeder pretty regularly.  I think they're living in the dead tree that will be featured on the 2011-Year-In-Pictures once everything is green again.  I mean seriously, all trees look dead in the winter. 

I had out both cameras, both lenses for the interchangeable-lens camera, the tripod, and my insanity.  I am on a mission to get a lot of really good pictures of these birds. 

Here's the fun I put myself through a few days ago trying to get a good picture of him.  (No, I'm not being random calling him a "him", it really is the male this time.  I can tell them apart.  And I know what their call sounds like.  I need help.  Hitter turned me into a birdwatcher *twitch*)  The background information you need to know is I'm pretty much a lazy-butt and I love to be on my couch.

Problem #1: I can't just take a picture from the couch because our windows have screens on the bottom half so I'd end up with stupid pictures.

Problem #2: I can't take pictures through the top of the living room window (screen-less) because the outside light shines through the glass inset in our front door and reflects off the windows.  Then I end up with these weird ghosty things. 

Failed solution to problem #2:

I put a blanket over the door.  Still didn't work so much.  Moving on!

Problem #3: The birds can see through the living room window so if I try to get up to go to a different window, they fly away.  Pileated woodpeckers are very skittish. 

Successful remedy to problem #3: Me falling off the couch EVER-SO-GRACEFULLY (yeah right) so the birds can't see me, then I crawl across the floor until I am out of their line of sight.

Problem #4: The only other windows with a view of the bird feeder are the French doors.  These doors have after-market enclosed blinds on them.  I love them, love love love, except in the winter they fog up something terrible. 

Solution to Problem #4, Part 1: I took off the enclosed-blind thing (thank goodness they're removable) 

Then I set up the tripod pointing out the window, had the zoom lens on the camera and the other one nearby, looked out the window and.....

Problem #5:

NO BIRDS!

They'd all flown away.  It was just as well, the window wasn't de-fogged yet anyway. 

Solution to Problem #4, Part 2: Did I mention the window still wasn't de-fogged? 

I got Hitter's hair dryer (yes he has a hair dryer, no I do not.  that's probably also a post for another day) and blow-dried the window. 

And FINALLY, I got pictures.  Oh glory did I get pictures!  Two hours later, I had a full memory card.  Oh happy day.  (have I mentioned I love digital?  seriously, I took almost 400 pictures over two days.  who the hell would do that if it was film?)  Sat down to my trusty rusty laptop to upload the pictures and pick out the good ones...... and...........

I have NO IDEA how in the hell I accidentally caused that!  I almost broke my computer smashing the cancel button as hard as I could.  I lost about half of them.  And then I almost threw my computer and the camera across the room.  I refrained, but it was a strong urge. 

Hitter gets home from work that night and is all "so what did you do today?" which is a loaded question because I'm a childless housewife.  But what could I say?  I mean I was busy all day!  It just ended up being for nothing.  How do you say "well I spent all day trying to create the ideal bird photography studio in my house because I was obsessed with getting pictures TODAY of some birds that live here and I'll see them again someday, and then I managed to accidentally delete most of the pictures.  So, yeah, umm, I didn't do anything today.  How do you feel about leftovers for supper?  Cuz I'm worn out!"

Then I vacuumed the dining room table

*Disclaimer: This post is probably going to be a hot mess.  I've already forgotten some of the stories I wanted to write about, and it just happened two days ago.  And I am writing this at 4 a.m. after waking up an hour ago and not being able to get back to sleep, so I can't deal with all those nicknames.  Characters today: Mom, Dad, Bro, SIL (and possibly also niece and nephew.  haven't gotten that far yet)  And Hitter.  That one I'm pretty comfortable with.

Yesterday morning I get a text message from the Boyfriend (okay he's a character in today's tale too)
Him: what are you up to?
Me: I'm at the farm cleaning my mother's house
*long silent pause*
Me: I should explain, she's not dead or anything.  They're just on vacation and we, umm, kinda had a party at their house while they were gone.  And now I'm cleaning.  Long story.

This past weekend Hitter and I headed to my family's farm.  He had come up with a brilliant birthday present for my dad.  See, Dad has these model trains.  He has some that were his toys when he was a kid, bought another train when Bro and I were kids, and he's picked up quite a few in the last 5 years or so on ebay.  (I refuse to capitalize the b, deal with it.  even though spell check won't deal with it.  ebay has red squiggly line, eBay doesn't.  dammit!  now I capitalized the b *sigh*)  Anyway he used to get the trains out once in a while when Bro and I were kids and just run them around the floor at the bottom of the pool table, and then packed them away for a long time... until the grandkids came along.  Then he got serious, bought some plywood, made a table, bought a whole bunch more track, made a real layout with a rail yard and a mountain and some buildings and a cattle yard and a whole crapload of lights and signals and stuff (as opposed to just running one loop on the floor)

Spell check doesn't like "crapload" either.  Spell check is an asshole.  

So the top of the table looks really nice with all the fancy stuff he's bought and wired up and tra la la.  However, underneath it was pretty redneck.  He had the plywood sitting on top of an old 1960s dining room table, with one piece of 2x4 at either end to make legs.  

Yeah that's stable.  I forgot to draw the plywood sagging on either end and warping in the middle.  I'm all about encouraging my readers to use their imaginations.  You're welcome!

And his electricity!  Oh my stars!  When he was wiring all the lights and signals and stuff, he just ran all the wires to one place, wrapped the wires around each other, and stuffed them into the holes of a power strip!  Holy crap.  I'm pretty sure that's not up to code.  But it's also not the point of this post.

So Hitter's brilliant idea was to build real legs and supports for the table...  so the grandkids won't accidentally knock it over (I'm honestly surprised the air conditioner vent over the table hadn't blown it over.  or that dad's never bumped into it in a drunken stupor and ruined it all) and the plywood will quit sagging and warping.  Hitter knows how to build train tables, we have a layout too.  He gets a bunch of lumber and mostly created the legs at home, he had to wait and do the framework after we got there, and then we loaded them up and headed to the farm this past weekend.  The biggest reason we chose this weekend even though Dad's birthday isn't for a while yet is cuz of the parental unit being on vacation.  We wanted this to be a surprise.  And now my dad has nice legs!

they're even better in real life

I should have mentioned earlier, my mother is an immaculate housekeeper.  At least the parts that show.  I honestly think she vacuumed the living room carpet the very last thing before leaving home, because there were perfect sweeper lines in the carpet with nary a footprint to be found.

("nary"?)

So Bro and SIL and I were joking about how Mom is totally going to know someone was in her house.  I mean before we left, I vacuumed the carpet, mopped the linoleum, washed our sheets and towels, re-cleaned the fridge, and she's still going to be able to sense our presence.  We even brought home the trash we accumulated this weekend!  She's still gonna know.  So rather than try to hide the fact that we were there (plus, seriously, they're gonna notice the new train table legs) I left a note that was all

Dear Mom and Dad,
  We were in your house.  Please don't be mad!  We tried to leave the house as we found it.  I cleaned as well as I am capable, I hope it's enough.  I'm a pretty terrible housekeeper.  We just came here to give dad a birthday present.
Love,
Hitter, Me, and Muppy!

(Muppy is also a terrible housekeeper.  He didn't help clean at all.  In fact, he barfed on the carpet)

(do you like how I guilted them into not being mad because we had such good intentions... I mean who doesn't like a birthday present?!  I stopped short of mentioning the fact that it's my mom's fault I'm a terrible housekeeper) 

How is it I've typed a small novel and still haven't gotten to the point of the title?  And I thought this was going to be a short story.  Well as I said, the framework for the tables had to be built at Mom and Dad's.  Which led to a whole lot of sawdust going into their basement carpet and all over everywhere.  Of course I had to clean that up, it'd be pretty shitty to show up and make a whole birthday present but then leave the mess for the birthday boy to clean up.  Right?  Anyway, the afore-mentioned dining room table that had been the main support of the train table suddenly found itself free from its train prison, but covered in sawdust.  I searched my mom's house high and low for cleaning supplies, and failed miserably.  More text messages, this time between me and SIL:

Me: do you have a dustpan and broom I could borrow?  Mom's house is so clean I can't find any cleaning supplies
SIL: yeah I do, do you need it now?  I think she just vacuums everything
Me: nah, I can wait till we see each other at lunch.  and she vacuums the linoleum too?
SIL: seriously, you know her.  she's nuts.

Which led me me vacuuming the top of a dining room table.  I also vacuumed my socks, while I was wearing them.  It was a weird weekend. 

And why in the hell does vacuum have two u's?  What a stupid word.

To top off the really weird weekend, Hitter is home today.  Guh.  I wonder if I could just sleep all day.  Maybe drink heavily.

Oh and speaking of Hey Fuck Off, there were more revelations of how incredibly stupid and hypocritical my parents are.  For instance: they have a toilet that sometimes sticks in continuous flow mode... I mean wide freaking open, sounds like there's a broken water main.  And it's been like this for YEARS.  I know this because one time three years ago I went up to house-sit for them when they were on vacation and when I showed up after they'd already left, the toilet was running.  It doesn't happen all the time, but some.  Dad is too lazy to bother putting a new flapper on the toilet, but he yells at Mom for using too much water when she's washing dishes.  And he lectures Bro and me about not taking good enough care of our houses and stuff.  This is the same guy who had so much siding missing from the outside of his house that you could see the framing and some of the insulation was missing.  Plus there's that whole electricity thing I mentioned above.  And their garage door is screwed up.  There's no tension spring.  I've asked him two or three times if maybe the thing would work better if he got it fixed.  He tells me it's not broken.  I quit arguing.  Not worth it.  Have I ever told the story about the carbon monoxide leak?!?!?  Fucktards.  I told Hitter on the way home that sometimes I kinda wish I was an orphan.  Dad isn't the only idiot either, as I mentioned above, my mom is an immaculate housekeeper... in the parts that show!  Don't open a closet though...

this was supposed to be an overloaded closet exploding... but I got tired of drawing crap.  See?  I don't even like clutter in my artwork!

 

And even funnier was when Hitter was in the kitchen and busted out laughing... see, my mom is pretty short.  I mean I'm kind of on the short side of normal, and she's shorter than I am.  Dad's no amazon either.  I think he's under 6 feet.  Neither of them can see over the top of the fridge.  So neither of them think twice about how it looks to someone who is 6'4" and can see the top of the fridge and the half dozen mousetraps all in a row up there.  No, they aren't being stored.  They're baited and set.  Because there are mice.  All over the damned house.  But instead of plugging up the holes in the siding and walls and floors and roof and trying to keep the mice out, let's just leave around a couple hundred mousetraps.  

I told Hitter if we ever inherit that house and actually want to move back to the farm, we're leveling the damned thing and starting over.  It'll be cheaper than trying to fix everything that's wrong with it.

You know what?  Now that I think about it, I'm a better housekeeper than she is.  I mean my house may not be quite up to the same immaculate standards in the parts-that-show, but first of all we do a much better job of maintaining stuff, and secondly my storage room is WAY cleaner than hers is.  I think housekeeping skills should be judged by the parts that don't show, not the parts that do.  

I hate people who only care about appearances.  Hey Fuck Off.  

This post is out of control.  I should stop now.  I should have stopped about an hour ago.

Twuhnnyleven: The Year of the Redneck

Actually, it's supposed to be 2011: A Year in Pictures.  But I keep pronouncing 2011 "twuhnnyleven" which strikes me as a bit redneck.

I have a project for myself this year.  No resolutions, I hate resolutions.  A guy I know posted on his Facebook page today "Every new year people make resolutions to change aspects of themselves they believe are negative. This year just be yourself" and I love that.  Of course I really don't like him that much cuz he's a Longhorns fan, but what can ya do...  

Maybe I should make a resolution to stay on-topic.

Project.  Photos.  Twuhnnyleven.  Right.....  This idea has been pinging around inside my brain for a while now but I'm sometimes a little slow on the uptake.  Plus we currently only have a giant honking dSLR camera with a couple lenses and a big-ass bag to carry it around in, which is incredibly inconvenient for random pictures.  Now I've gotten ahead of myself.

The project is to take at least one picture every day.  Some pictures may be important and meaningful, some will be random and weird.  There will be beautiful pieces of art, and there will be odd snapshots. Some will preserve memories, some I'll look back on and be all "what the fuck, me?"

Like I said two paragraphs ago, and way ahead of its time, I've been ignoring this idea because of the annoyance of always hauling around Designated Hitter's stupid purchase.  Don't get me wrong, as I'm learning how to REALLY use the camera I am falling in love with it.  But he uses it like a point-and-shoot so it's a giant waste of $1000.  Actually probably $1500 after he bought the second lens and other accessories.  And I want to buy more... another lens or two, a new tripod, sheesh I'm high maintenance!  I'm finally studying up on all the fancy things that bad boy can do.  Tee hee!  (if anyone's curious, it's a Nikon D50.  It has a few years on it now, and it's nowhere near high-end dSLR, but it's way more than Hitter needs and is becoming just about exactly something I love)  But anyway, we have a crapload of rewards points from a credit card so I'm going to use them to get a shiny new point-and-shoot that I can just shove in my purse and have it with me all the time.  I'll still use both cameras throughout the year, but the new one will allow me to take pictures more frequently and in places other than home.  

I'm not going to post them all on here.  Especially anything that's very identifying... still trying to maintain a touch of anonymity.  I haven't decided exactly where to stick them yet, I have an old picturetrail account where I'll probably at least start, but there's a limit on how much you can put on there without paying for the account (and I am kind of a tightwad, at least about some things) so I'm sure at some point I'll end up on flickr or something like that.  Not that big a fan of the flickr design though.  Hmm...  

Anyway, here's my January 1 picture!  This was taken this morning, a normal sunrise was going on behind some very interesting clouds.  

This size doesn't really do the picture justice.  But you still get the effect the clouds were giving.  

I'll get back to you on how I make this a redneck year... 

Winter!

Snow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Okay so my in-laws who live in Minnesoooooooooooota are less excited about this considering the roof-squashing amounts of snow they've gotten recently, but down here in this hillbilly hell it is a very exciting thing! 

pictured: the view out of my window

(just kidding)

It's all pink...

Disclaimer: I am not intending to, in any way, diminish the seriousness of breast cancer or suggest that we shouldn't be aware of it.  Read on...

I've had it with all things Pink.  I refused to participate in those stupid little "let's make the men wonder what the hell we're talking about" games on Facebook that have very little to do with preventing or treating cancer (at least this year's... last year's was at least about bras.  but this year... seriously... purses?  my favorite was "I don't carry a purse, but I like to fuck in the shower") but aside from random childishness, what really pisses me off is that breast cancer awareness gets SOOOOOO much attention, and other very real causes get practically nothing.

Did you know that October is also Domestic Violence Awareness month?  I don't see everything being covered in bruise-covered ribbons (oooooh I'm going to hell for that one) Why is it everyone's so worried about the boobies but nobody seems to care about the fact that 1 in 4 people will be a victim of domestic violence at some point in their life? 

A couple years ago, I heard a rumor that some St Louians were trying to get the powers-that-be to light up the Arch with pink lights in October.  Why stop there, why not put a nipple on it?!

I would say they should build a second St Louis Boob, but it is cancer awareness after all...

Nobody ever suggested lighting up landmarks in recognition of the rampant drug problem in Missouri, the meth capital of the country.  

What finally put me over the edge though, was last Sunday when I flipped to an NFL game briefly.  I do not follow the NFL at all, which comes as a huge surprise to people who know how obsessed I am with college football.  Imagine my surprise when I saw all these big burly testosterone-overloaded men prancing around the gridiron with pink shoes and pink arm bands and whatnot.  Seriously.  Why is the NFL so into breast cancer awareness, but you never see them getting all excited about prostate cancer awareness?  (would that be a brown ribbon?!)  1. the NFL is watched by way more men than women, and 2. I'm pretty sure there are a hell of a lot more women feeling their chests for errant lumps than there are men shoving fingers up their asses to see if their prostate is still normal.

*image deleted  

Shouldn't we be promoting men's health on an event where men are the captive audience?  Like men need any more excuses to be grabbing our chests.  *sigh*  

Oooooh I know, maybe they should do Testicular Cancer Awareness... 

hee hee... balls... blue ribbon...

Like I said, I am not against the prevention and treatment of breast cancer.  I just think it sucks that some marketing genius has managed to take the Pink movement to pop-star status, while so many other serious concerns are completely ignored.   

Oh, giant squirrel balls reminded me: In case anyone is keeping score, the final tally of dead squirrels in the pool for 2010 was 8.   Five fished out of the skimmer basket, two free-floating on the surface of the water, and one had sunk to the bottom.  They've all been removed and chucked into the woods, and the pool has now been winterized..... thank goodness!

Wow. Just Wow.

A couple weeks ago I was back home, just for the weekend.  Friday night I went out to dinner with the parental unit.  They go out to dinner every Friday to the same place with the same group of friends (well, however many of them are available on the Friday in question)

This place is a local restaurant and has had a lot of issues and changes over the years.  It hit another massive low about a month ago, and was starting the upswing when I was there.  This story isn't about anything massive or disastrous.  It's about ranch dressing.

The ranch dressing they've served for years now was pretty awful.  We're talking the flavor of generic dressing 3 weeks past it's expiration date.  But if you dump a bunch of black pepper into it, it's at least edible.  Well, as we're sitting there eating, Bran Flake's friend sitting next to her had ordered a salad with ranch dressing... and Flake stopped mid-story and spun around and goes "wow, that dressing actually smells good!"  So she gets to talking to the lady that has taken over kitchen managerial duties, and asks if it's a new ranch dressing.  Manager lady goes "yep, I started making it myself" and Flake goes "I didn't know you could make ranch dressing"

W.
T.
F.

Where the hell does she think ranch dressing comes from?  Does she think it grows wild?  And they built a ranch in the Hidden Valley, where migrant workers harvest it for 4 cents a month?

not shown: migrant workers, reality

Seriously.  I really want to know where she thought it comes from.  

And to top it off, I was telling her about a friend's dad who had Alzheimer's really bad.  Really really bad.  And Flake's all "I need to figure out how to ward off Alzheimer's" and I said "use your brain.  No, seriously, exercise the gray matter.  Think, reason, learn, keep those synapses firing.  Best way to ward off Alzheimer's" and Flake, in all seriousness, goes "oh well then I'll be good because I'm learning all the time!"  Somehow that wasn't what I meant.  I should have emphasized the "reason" part.  And added "logic".  Flake has zero capabilities for logic.  And even if she does "learn" something (i.e., that you can make ranch dressing) she doesn't retain it.  I bet if I emailed her a recipe right now for making your own ranch dressing, she wouldn't have a clue why I was doing it because she's already forgotten the above event ever happened.  

P.S. I don't want anyone to be insulted by this post, if you hadn't previously considered the making of ranch dressing, don't take it personally.  Unless of course you would have, when presented with a recipe for ranch dressing, still not believed that it could be made.  Because it grows on trees in the Hidden Valley.   

Men Are Stupid

Scene: Out by my pool.

Act One: May 20, 2010.  A dead squirrel laying balls-up in the skimmer basket of my pool.

Act Two: yesterday.  Yet another dead squirrel in my skimmer basket.  Also with giant balls. 

Logically:

1. Two squirrels get sucked into the skimmer basket of my pool and die
2. Both squirrels are male.
3. Ergo, all men are stupid. 

I'm not quite sure why I made a play and then did a scientific analysis of it.  Weird.  You should expect that out of me by now. 

The Ultimate in One-Stop-Shopping

Designated Hitter and I are on vacation this week.  Fishing vacation.  Last night we went for a little drive, and I was super pissed I didn't have the camera along because I saw this sign:

That's the best Dairy Queen ever.  Food, ice cream, booze, and bait.

So get this.  We're staying in this little bitty cabin that was built in the 19-teens.  The doors and windows don't really line up with the door/window frames anymore.  I was trying to lock the door but broke the key off in the lock because of how much the door doesn't line up anymore.  When it rains we just kind of pull the windows towards the cabin but they don't actually close all the way.  Plus the glass is all warpy too.  And there's a total funhouse mirror in the bedroom.  It makes me look like a retarded midget.  I'm probably going to hell for saying "retarded midget" but that's okay with me.  Anyway, back to the cabin.  The floor slopes in a lot of different directions.  No air conditioning, no tv.  We do have electricity thank goodness.  And running water.  A real kitchen and a functional indoor bathroom and everything.  But that's kind of the end of the amenities.  Except we have wi-fi.  I love the digital age.

And a bug bit me on the foot and I'm pretty sure I'm dying.  The bite area swelled up as big around as a silver dollar, and it doesn't just itch - it hurts!  And it's turning purple.  I think I have blood poisoning.  Two nights ago I was laying in bed sweating, wondering if I was dying.  Then I remembered it was like 85 degrees out and humid and we have no air conditioning.  Hitter thinks I'm a hypochondriac.  Okay so I am, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't be sympathetic when my foot turns gangrene and has to be cut off. 

Only a few more days in the north woods, then back to reality.  *sigh*

We Interrupt This Program

With apologies, we interrupt this program to bring you the following emergency Public Service Announcement:

Don't ever have a PMS-induced salt-craving binge with Salt & Vinegar Lays.  (or probably any salt and vinegar chips) 

We now return you to your regular scheduled programming.  Thank you.

Inboxers and Briefs

Hotmail hates me.  Last night I spent about a half an hour writing an email to Buffalo Bill.  Long story, but the short version is I had an Excel file full of information he needed and he doesn't have Excel and he didn't need everything in the file anyway so I just wrote up what he needed.  I wanted to go to bed but I'd promised him I'd have it to him yesterday.  Designated Hitter was being his eternally helpful self [/sarcasm] and kept going on about how "well you should be able to imbed the Excel sheet into an email, I mean you can in Outlook" and I had to repeatedly remind him that I'm still using Hotmail (don't judge me.  well, I mean people who aren't Best Friend shouldn't judge me.  people who use grown-up email systems, and who aren't reading my blog.  wait, umm, moving on)  Then this morning I wake up, log into my email, and Hotmail went and added the ability to imbed Excel into emails!  8 fucking hours after I needed it!

 
But that isn't really why I'm making this post.

Here's a little background - I hate clutter.  Hate it.  Designated Hitter is a packrat, and this issue has been a big problem for us for a long time.

However, I have one place where I am apparently also a clutterhound.  My email inbox.  I currently have over 5000 emails in my inbox.  I think I need an intervention. 

I'm sorting and deleting.  Mostly deleting, but there are some things I wanted to save (hence the reason I'd kept EVERYTHING.  cuz I'm smart like that)  I am making new inbox folders.

 These make so much more sense to me than the "normal" approach I'd taken 10 years ago... and never used.  However this emergency sort-and-file could take months.  I need beer.

The Muggle Speaks

As Best Friend (and currently still my only reader) is fully aware, I have, at long last, joined the ranks of those who love the Harry Potter books.  It's not that I didn't love them before, I just hadn't read them.  At first I didn't think I would like them, and then I was kind of turned off by all the hoopla (I have this attitude where I tend to hate anything that everyone else loves.  Also known as my rebellious behavior disorder) but I finally let curiosity take over.

I started reading over the 4th of July weekend.  Picked up the first book at approximately 8:00 pm Saturday night... and refused to quit reading until I finished it.

yes 1:00 a.m. is a big deal to me, I'm a morning person

Had the second book done before lunch on Sunday.  Tried to finish the third one yet Sunday night but

that's a flashlight up by my head, get your mind out of the gutter

I had finished the fifth book four days after I picked up the first one.  And then I was stuck.  My boyfriend had lent me books 1-5 but told me I had to come back for the last two.  Why he felt compelled to trick me into coming back, I'll never know.  Of course I'll gladly see him again, even without bribes.  Well, we did go for quite a while without seeing each other over the last couple years... but... okay yeah maybe he did have a good idea.  Whatever.  Not the point of this post.

I still don't have books 6 & 7 yet, but over the weekend ABC Family channel showed the first 5 movies.  I missed most of the first one... just caught the last half hour or so.  And Order of the Phoenix is recording right now as I type.  But I saw all of 2, 3 and 4.  I had told Best Friend last week I wanted to watch at least one of the movies, mostly because I wanted to see what Quidditch looks like (I had a pretty good idea in my head from the descriptions in the books but wanted to see how they did it in the movies) and I really wanted to get the pronunciation of Hermione firmly cemented in my head!  Anyway, Best Friend wanted to know what I thought of the movies, and rather than cluttering up her inbox and having an un-updated blog, I figured I'd do it this way.

Wow...

I hope I never do that again.

Now... on to the review!

Quidditch was pretty much what I was figuring.  Although as an avid sports lover, I was kind of disappointed they didn't show more of the game itself.  Maybe I missed that by missing the first movie... it's first in line in my Netflix Queue, hopefully by Friday.

And I knew how to pronounce Hermione, my brain just didn't like to play along.  But now I think it's pretty well implanted in the gray matter.

As for everything else... I am SO glad that the movies pretty much stuck to the plots of the books.  I woulda been so pissed if they'd gone on some great adventure that was not only not in the books but didn't even fit with the storyline.  Thank goodness for that!  They obviously did have to skip a lot of stuff because seriously how can you cram a 900 page book into a 2 hour movie?  Yeah.  Also, I'm pretty sure this is a big reason for not showing like an entire Quidditch match.  Not to mention I think flying broomsticks are not real so that would have been a challenge too.  Maybe they are real and I'm just a stupid Muggle.  Wait, I'm getting off topic.  Anyway, while I totally understand that they had to cut some stuff, there were a few places where I was left feeling that they had glossed over or completely ignored something I felt was pretty important.  And worse yet, there was at least one time where I felt like they left a pretty stinkin big plot hole.  Don't ask, I don't remember what it was now.  If I think of it, I'll post an update.

Update - I know somewhere that I feel like they completely skipped over some important plot points.  See film: The Order of the Phoenix.  See part: all.  No, really.  There were so many places that I was just like "wait a minute, how the hell did we get here?" and if I hadn't read the book I wouldn't have understood why the characters were behaving as they were.  This movie was probably the most disappointing of them all so far. 

Okay, here's the thing that drove me the most nuts out of it all though.  They did point out that the young wizards weren't supposed to do magic outside of Hogwarts.  Uncle Vernon was fully aware of it, Harry got in trouble for it, etc.  And yet when Harry was doing his middle-of-the-night homework at the Muggle house, he was reading by wand light and they even made a big deal out of it with him having to re-light it every 3 seconds.  There are other times when wands illuminate and they stay lit, so what was with the constant repeating of the Lumos?  Another example was after Harry's first Floo ride and his glasses broke, Hermione was the one to fix them.  WTF?  Seriously.  So what, you can't do magic when it lends itself to a storyline but it's okay when it serves to remind stupid moron moviegoers that this is a movie about magic?  I mean in the books, Harry was doing his homework by flashlight and one of the Weasley parents fixed his glasses.

Although there is even a little confusion on that topic in the books, in my opinion.  Hermione said she'd done some charms at home before the start of their first year.  Of course she probably didn't know the rules yet then... but still.  And I'm pretty certain the Weasley twins were doing all sorts of shit, with their joke stuff.

But I'm getting nit-picky.

For the most part I liked the movies.  Like I said, thankfully they stuck to the storylines.  And I think they did a good job of casting the actors.  There weren't really any times where I was seriously all "WTF, that person looks/acts NOTHING like they should" and going back and rereading now after the movies is actually a little easier because I have a picture of the characters in my head.  (from my somewhat disjointed and incomplete viewings I don't really feel qualified to comment on old Dumbledore vs new Dumbledore)  And the special effects were good too, not nearly as hokey as they could have been! 

All in all I like books better than movies though.  Not just here, but always.  And here.