Monday, monday
My house smelled, and not like freshly baked bread or apple pie. Every morning when I came downstairs I was slapped in the face by dawg. If I somehow took a sharp blow to the head over night and managed to forget I had a dog, I would be reminded as soon as I went downstairs.
You know the smell. In a perfect world, when you come into my house I would hope that you would not know I had pets at all, until they come bounding at you and knock you down, Surprise! I have a dog! and a cat! Wanna guess where he's box is?! There is a lot to enjoy about your dog. They are attractive to look at, they are very good burglar alarms, and they have nice, soft fur. Many of your senses are pleased by your dog. Very rarely is your sense of smell pleased by your dog.
My sense of smell was not only “not pleased” it was deeply offended. The only upside of this was if by chance Dogger and I were out of the house and a burglar took it upon himself, and I use the masculine because I have never heard of a woman who was a house burglar, frankly, sure we’ll kill our own young but we aren’t going to steal your flat screen - to break in, one whiff and he would have known immediately that there was dog in the house and it would be coming for him soon, or he had come across the worlds best appointed bear cave - Whatever, something very large and carnivorous and no doubt angry at being disturbed would be along quickly and it was would be looking to tear out his throat and gut him. A smart burglar would leave at this point. And the fact that no pawn broker would buy anything that smelled that bad.
The house was dawgy and had been. Last weekend I was out of town and didn’t get anything done around the house. This weekend I was in town it was time. Okay, one more day and I was going to have to rake the carpets. In the summer I keep the house dark and even in the dark the house looked bad.
So. I vacuumed or swept all the flat surfaces and then laundering everything the dog touches. Sadly, the biggest offender, a large chair and ottoman that Dogger doesn’t know that I know she spends a lot of time on in my absence - that would do well with a good through wash cycle, was too large for the machine. Everything else, house-wide I swept, vacuumed or spot cleaned and I felt pretty good about what I had accomplished, the house smelled like, well, nothing.
.....Until I walked downstairs Saturday morning and my eyes watered. I had forgotten the real offender. I didn’t have a chance to do anything about it on Saturday but Sunday? afternoon, we were on. Dogger didn’t know what to think It’s still light out! I haven’t had dinner! No, no, no! Bath time is night time! Come on! I told her to come on and she had a good bath. Sunday prior to bathtime, I went to Petco and splurged on a $10 anti-itch doggy shampoo to help her out with her recurrent summer itchiness/hot-spot problems. I buy my own shampoo at Poverty Barn for $3 a bottle.
The house now smells like medicinal dog shampoo, but it doesn’t smell like dawg.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
Garden Update III
Since the last time I've reported on Garden 2008 - The Greeninging , I have staged my first harvest! It wasn't exactly a record breaking haul.
But aren't the cute? Have you ever seen cuter tomatoes? I think not! They were the smartest tomatoes in their class. So I spent all this time worrying on them and watering and fertilizing and obsessing over them, and then I ate them. It seemed wrong, it seemed carnivorous some how. Here was these things that I worked so hard on and spent watching them grow from tiny little nubs into a condiment. I put a lot of effort babying them along and I ate them. I felt like after all of that, I should put them in a scrapbook instead of a sandwich.
I was so proud. I very carefully took them off plant and brought them inside and washed them clean and then I looked at them. Hello little tomatoes! Welcome to the inside of my house! . I actually took a picture of them sitting on the counter. I was at loss as to what to now . I mean, I had a total of three tomatoes. It's hardly like I had enough to make tomato sauce or even whip up some dip or something. You can't even make a salad with three small tomatoes, And? I don't even eat tomatoes. I mean, I eat tomatoes but usually after they disguised. I certainly didn't want them to go bad, but really... What do you do with three tomatoes?
You chop them up and add them to your tuna, is what you do with them. They were nummy.
Three down
Many, many, many to go. And that's just the little ones. I have big ones too and they are getting bigger everyday. They aren't getting red but they are getting big. They're supposed to Goliath tomatoes but right now I think they're more like David tomatoes.
The cukes are trying to catch up. I mean, you can tell they really, really want it bad but they just aren't as ambitious as the tomatoes. The tomatoes are the star players of Team Garden and the cukes know it, and they feel bad. My garden books swear and declare that the cukes will grow and that I will need to stay on top of them and harvest every couple of days. Well. We'll see.
I have three and that's the big daddy one. The other ones are just little. I put a saucer under it because one of my books suggested that I keep them off the ground to protect them from insects and other dirt born terrorists. Sigh. I'm go to all this trouble and then I;m going to eat them. Or someone is going to eat them, I don't even normally eat disguised cucumbers. Maybe by that time I'll figure out how to put them into scrapbook.
The squash plants themselves are very green and leafy and every morning when I go out to visit with the garden before I leave for work the squash blossoms are splendid. They aren't producing any actual squash but I have read where the flowers are edible. Speaking of flowers the eggplants are waking up!
They, like the squash are producing very pretty flowers early in the morning. This picture would have been much prettier if taken in the morning, had I thought about it.
The peppers. The Peppers. Nothing. They are doing nothing. I mean, even the eggplants are doing something. The peppers are so far, really disappointing. Even the collards are producing! I harvested some collards today! A lot! Many leaves! They will probably shrink down to nothing cause that's what collards do, but still! I'm going to add some sausage and it's going to be great.
The peppers make me sad.
Since the last time I've reported on Garden 2008 - The Greeninging , I have staged my first harvest! It wasn't exactly a record breaking haul.
But aren't the cute? Have you ever seen cuter tomatoes? I think not! They were the smartest tomatoes in their class. So I spent all this time worrying on them and watering and fertilizing and obsessing over them, and then I ate them. It seemed wrong, it seemed carnivorous some how. Here was these things that I worked so hard on and spent watching them grow from tiny little nubs into a condiment. I put a lot of effort babying them along and I ate them. I felt like after all of that, I should put them in a scrapbook instead of a sandwich.
I was so proud. I very carefully took them off plant and brought them inside and washed them clean and then I looked at them. Hello little tomatoes! Welcome to the inside of my house! . I actually took a picture of them sitting on the counter. I was at loss as to what to now . I mean, I had a total of three tomatoes. It's hardly like I had enough to make tomato sauce or even whip up some dip or something. You can't even make a salad with three small tomatoes, And? I don't even eat tomatoes. I mean, I eat tomatoes but usually after they disguised. I certainly didn't want them to go bad, but really... What do you do with three tomatoes?
You chop them up and add them to your tuna, is what you do with them. They were nummy.
Three down
Many, many, many to go. And that's just the little ones. I have big ones too and they are getting bigger everyday. They aren't getting red but they are getting big. They're supposed to Goliath tomatoes but right now I think they're more like David tomatoes.
The cukes are trying to catch up. I mean, you can tell they really, really want it bad but they just aren't as ambitious as the tomatoes. The tomatoes are the star players of Team Garden and the cukes know it, and they feel bad. My garden books swear and declare that the cukes will grow and that I will need to stay on top of them and harvest every couple of days. Well. We'll see.
I have three and that's the big daddy one. The other ones are just little. I put a saucer under it because one of my books suggested that I keep them off the ground to protect them from insects and other dirt born terrorists. Sigh. I'm go to all this trouble and then I;m going to eat them. Or someone is going to eat them, I don't even normally eat disguised cucumbers. Maybe by that time I'll figure out how to put them into scrapbook.
The squash plants themselves are very green and leafy and every morning when I go out to visit with the garden before I leave for work the squash blossoms are splendid. They aren't producing any actual squash but I have read where the flowers are edible. Speaking of flowers the eggplants are waking up!
They, like the squash are producing very pretty flowers early in the morning. This picture would have been much prettier if taken in the morning, had I thought about it.
The peppers. The Peppers. Nothing. They are doing nothing. I mean, even the eggplants are doing something. The peppers are so far, really disappointing. Even the collards are producing! I harvested some collards today! A lot! Many leaves! They will probably shrink down to nothing cause that's what collards do, but still! I'm going to add some sausage and it's going to be great.
The peppers make me sad.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
The Red Shoes Diary
Tiny E needed some new shoes. Not just “shoes” she needed red shoes and not just any foot coverings designed to protect her feet from the environment, she needed faux craux, the cheaper version of the real thing. The cheap plastic shoe the rich and dumb buy $50 a pop can be bought by the frugal and the smart for $5, a cheaper, greener alterative to the over priced retail version. For your $5 you get shoes that when exposed to natural sunlight will actually begin to compost themselves! The real shoes can take months to do that.
Top be honest, I don’t know how much real crocs cost. Until a few months ago I didn’t know croc shoes from a crock of shit. If whatever it is isn't being sold 75% off at Poverty Barn, chances are I'm not going to know about it. In the three seconds of thought I spent to the issue I thought maybe crocs were some kind of new-fangled duck shoe thing. I certainly didn’t know they were talking about and buying bling for, plastic shoes. I kind of take it that crocs are the beanie babies of the early 21 century.
Myself, I don’t wear plastic shoes. I’ve done the whole plastic shoe thing, I had a plastic shoe collection which I wore with my Mexican wedding dress collection. I also had a new blister every day and walked with a limp. It was 1985-86 and the plastic shoe de’jour were called Jellies.
But Tiny E doesn’t know from Jellies. She is still too young to know about the pleasure/pain relationship our kind has with shoes. She does however know a cute shoe when she sees one. While she’s too young yet for really hard core shoeage, she is too old for Heelarious Heels
If these had been on the market two years ago, I would have bought her a pair. She would love these, if she had a pair of these, I can guarantee she would have learned how to say CUTE months earlier then she did. They are a little Cathyish, on closer inspection, but I think that can be overlooked. A girl can never start to build her collection of nearly identical black pumps soon enough.
But. Lets talk reality. In reality, as cute as those shoes are, she wouldn’t have gotten a lot of wear out of them. These shoes are not made for walking and Tiny E will walk right over you. It’s who she is, she has places to go and Gawd help you if you are in her way. Girl has an agenda and a Black Berry and she’s interviewing assistants and she has a flight to catch and a new Signing Time downloaded onto her Iphone and you are making her late. She needs shoes she can walk in, run in, jump into puddles in and that’s not going to happen in pumps, even those ones they advertised as being pumps you could play basketball in because I bet they don’t come in childrens sizes . So for the time being Baby Girl’s athletic shoe needs will be handled of by these
...And her $5 Wallyworld faux crauxs. She has meetings to go to and classes to attend and every weekend another birthday party. Girl baby is on the go, and she can’t go anywhere without the right shoes.
Tiny E needed some new shoes. Not just “shoes” she needed red shoes and not just any foot coverings designed to protect her feet from the environment, she needed faux craux, the cheaper version of the real thing. The cheap plastic shoe the rich and dumb buy $50 a pop can be bought by the frugal and the smart for $5, a cheaper, greener alterative to the over priced retail version. For your $5 you get shoes that when exposed to natural sunlight will actually begin to compost themselves! The real shoes can take months to do that.
Top be honest, I don’t know how much real crocs cost. Until a few months ago I didn’t know croc shoes from a crock of shit. If whatever it is isn't being sold 75% off at Poverty Barn, chances are I'm not going to know about it. In the three seconds of thought I spent to the issue I thought maybe crocs were some kind of new-fangled duck shoe thing. I certainly didn’t know they were talking about and buying bling for, plastic shoes. I kind of take it that crocs are the beanie babies of the early 21 century.
Myself, I don’t wear plastic shoes. I’ve done the whole plastic shoe thing, I had a plastic shoe collection which I wore with my Mexican wedding dress collection. I also had a new blister every day and walked with a limp. It was 1985-86 and the plastic shoe de’jour were called Jellies.
But Tiny E doesn’t know from Jellies. She is still too young to know about the pleasure/pain relationship our kind has with shoes. She does however know a cute shoe when she sees one. While she’s too young yet for really hard core shoeage, she is too old for Heelarious Heels
If these had been on the market two years ago, I would have bought her a pair. She would love these, if she had a pair of these, I can guarantee she would have learned how to say CUTE months earlier then she did. They are a little Cathyish, on closer inspection, but I think that can be overlooked. A girl can never start to build her collection of nearly identical black pumps soon enough.
But. Lets talk reality. In reality, as cute as those shoes are, she wouldn’t have gotten a lot of wear out of them. These shoes are not made for walking and Tiny E will walk right over you. It’s who she is, she has places to go and Gawd help you if you are in her way. Girl has an agenda and a Black Berry and she’s interviewing assistants and she has a flight to catch and a new Signing Time downloaded onto her Iphone and you are making her late. She needs shoes she can walk in, run in, jump into puddles in and that’s not going to happen in pumps, even those ones they advertised as being pumps you could play basketball in because I bet they don’t come in childrens sizes . So for the time being Baby Girl’s athletic shoe needs will be handled of by these
...And her $5 Wallyworld faux crauxs. She has meetings to go to and classes to attend and every weekend another birthday party. Girl baby is on the go, and she can’t go anywhere without the right shoes.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Inhale, Exhale...
They fixed my computer at work, it turned out to be a faulty ping number. I feel much better now.
I didn’t know how vital being in my own space was until I was forced out of it. It was like being a temp again, a few hours at this desk a few hours more that that desk, half a day there, fifteen minutes here. It was unsettling.
I also never thought about how important keyboard placement is to my productivity. It genuinely upset me that the keyboard I spent most of my time on was in the wrong place. I mean, really wrong. My keyboard is on my desktop where it belongs. I can move it to the right, left, up under my screen or into my lap if need be. It’s in the right place. The office I was squatting in belongs to a co-worker who kindly scheduled her kidney stones for the same week I was without a working computer.
This co-worker inherited her poorly designed work space from a past employee who must have been extremely, cripplingly far sighted. I don’t know how the current occupant stands it. I hope when she gets over being the new kid she says something about it and asks to change the set up. I don't think she had kidney stones, I think she was really suffering from a full body cramp from dealing with her rotten set up.
She inherited a desk with an under desk keyboard. Which should work, and would work if the keyboard under the desk was not the most bulbous keyboard ever manufactured. It looks like a Ford from the early 90s, puffy, swollen and bloated - Which would be great if you were hoping to use it as a raft and float down the river on it or had plans to fill it with goose down and take a nap, but it is not something that is designed to fit under your desk. It's supposed to sit top side and look ergonomic.
If its in it’s stowed position, sure you can comfortably work on the desk top, you can’t use the keyboard but you can read your screen, although you will be seeing a lot of 6's, as when the board is under the desk the 6 key is nudged and it makes 6s until the computer itself beeps in frustration. If it’s locked and loaded state the user is forced back to sit against the wall from where you can’t actually see the screen or reach the phone or even comfortably use the keyboard, it does wonders for your posture. It’s also like the most useful, if hard to clean, airplane tray table ever. Every time I had to pull it out I looked for someone to come by with a drinks cart and slam into my knee. There is a middle ground but you have to be very careful to not touch it in any way less it slides under the desk or pops up and out and knocks your teeth out
I just hate everything about being away from my desk. Pens for instance. My pens are where they belong. Everyone else keeps their pens in the wrong place. My co-workers staplers , uniformly, were in the wrong place, they don’t have their own date punch or letter openers or label makers... You don’t know how happy I was to find a label maker at the reception desk! I was afraid I was going to have to hand write all my address labels, if I was afraid, the state of North Carolina was terrified.
There are documents on my computer that I thought since they are on the “share” drive, that we all shared them. We do not. I do see the wisdom in not letting two hundred people have access to survey schedules but it really put a crimp into my day to not be able to pull them up when I needed them. I wasted a lot of time going upstairs to search for a manager that had access to them and would print them out for me. It took forty-five minutes to get a few lines of type it would have taken me forty-five seconds to look up if I was at my own computer. It was one crimp in the schedule after another. I spent two days suffering from full body crimps.
They fixed my computer at work, it turned out to be a faulty ping number. I feel much better now.
I didn’t know how vital being in my own space was until I was forced out of it. It was like being a temp again, a few hours at this desk a few hours more that that desk, half a day there, fifteen minutes here. It was unsettling.
I also never thought about how important keyboard placement is to my productivity. It genuinely upset me that the keyboard I spent most of my time on was in the wrong place. I mean, really wrong. My keyboard is on my desktop where it belongs. I can move it to the right, left, up under my screen or into my lap if need be. It’s in the right place. The office I was squatting in belongs to a co-worker who kindly scheduled her kidney stones for the same week I was without a working computer.
This co-worker inherited her poorly designed work space from a past employee who must have been extremely, cripplingly far sighted. I don’t know how the current occupant stands it. I hope when she gets over being the new kid she says something about it and asks to change the set up. I don't think she had kidney stones, I think she was really suffering from a full body cramp from dealing with her rotten set up.
She inherited a desk with an under desk keyboard. Which should work, and would work if the keyboard under the desk was not the most bulbous keyboard ever manufactured. It looks like a Ford from the early 90s, puffy, swollen and bloated - Which would be great if you were hoping to use it as a raft and float down the river on it or had plans to fill it with goose down and take a nap, but it is not something that is designed to fit under your desk. It's supposed to sit top side and look ergonomic.
If its in it’s stowed position, sure you can comfortably work on the desk top, you can’t use the keyboard but you can read your screen, although you will be seeing a lot of 6's, as when the board is under the desk the 6 key is nudged and it makes 6s until the computer itself beeps in frustration. If it’s locked and loaded state the user is forced back to sit against the wall from where you can’t actually see the screen or reach the phone or even comfortably use the keyboard, it does wonders for your posture. It’s also like the most useful, if hard to clean, airplane tray table ever. Every time I had to pull it out I looked for someone to come by with a drinks cart and slam into my knee. There is a middle ground but you have to be very careful to not touch it in any way less it slides under the desk or pops up and out and knocks your teeth out
I just hate everything about being away from my desk. Pens for instance. My pens are where they belong. Everyone else keeps their pens in the wrong place. My co-workers staplers , uniformly, were in the wrong place, they don’t have their own date punch or letter openers or label makers... You don’t know how happy I was to find a label maker at the reception desk! I was afraid I was going to have to hand write all my address labels, if I was afraid, the state of North Carolina was terrified.
There are documents on my computer that I thought since they are on the “share” drive, that we all shared them. We do not. I do see the wisdom in not letting two hundred people have access to survey schedules but it really put a crimp into my day to not be able to pull them up when I needed them. I wasted a lot of time going upstairs to search for a manager that had access to them and would print them out for me. It took forty-five minutes to get a few lines of type it would have taken me forty-five seconds to look up if I was at my own computer. It was one crimp in the schedule after another. I spent two days suffering from full body crimps.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Frustration
I hate computers. Not all computers of course, I’m sure the one you are using is quite nice, I don't hate yours, or course. Your computer is very nice. NASA has many lovely and talented computers at it’s disposal. I on the other hand have only lazy, useless, untalented computers to use.
My computer at home for instances. When your computer is loading your browser, how many does it load?, I would guess that it load a single version of it. You can after all only use one at a time, it only makes sense for it to load just the one. My computer on the other hand thinks that it and by extension, I need as many as 128 to fully realize both our goals. My goals are of course secondary to my computers fear of being alone, or the bastard is getting them together to try to sell them on a pyramid scheme.
I am also pissed that I have all ready seen both the No Reservations they have aired this evening. One of them being Namibia, and I didn’t need to that one even the first time much less a second. Namibia, a place where there is no food and nothing to see. Starving people sitting around with nothing to do. Yay! The Travel Channel should run this episode three, four times a week... Oh, wait, they all ready do!
I can’t even go to work to find comfort in my work computers embrace. My computer at work had a nervous breakdown, a massive heart attack and a massive stroke or some combination of all three either over the weekend or within seconds of me turning it on this morning. I love Mondays. I had the great fun of going office to office eyeing computers like a vulture or Angela Jolie after a particularity attractive orphan - asking when lunch was and why they hadn’t gone yet and when they did go, to please leave their computer on and not to hurry back. We did have two folks out today, which should have been a God send to me, but when I tried to sign on to their computers both machines told me to go fuck myself - It was in binary but it was still hurtful. The IT person finally agreed to do something disgusting to one of them or bribed it in some way , into working with me.
On a day to day bases I have access to two computers in my world and they both hate me.
But all of this has been educational. I learned that my computer has “capacitors” and they can get “swollen” and “leaky”. I did not know this. When IT checked this they found that while one of my capacitors is a little swollen, it wasn’t leaky or swollen enough to explain the overwhelming systematic damage my computer is experiencing.
I’m tired now.
I hate computers. Not all computers of course, I’m sure the one you are using is quite nice, I don't hate yours, or course. Your computer is very nice. NASA has many lovely and talented computers at it’s disposal. I on the other hand have only lazy, useless, untalented computers to use.
My computer at home for instances. When your computer is loading your browser, how many does it load?, I would guess that it load a single version of it. You can after all only use one at a time, it only makes sense for it to load just the one. My computer on the other hand thinks that it and by extension, I need as many as 128 to fully realize both our goals. My goals are of course secondary to my computers fear of being alone, or the bastard is getting them together to try to sell them on a pyramid scheme.
I am also pissed that I have all ready seen both the No Reservations they have aired this evening. One of them being Namibia, and I didn’t need to that one even the first time much less a second. Namibia, a place where there is no food and nothing to see. Starving people sitting around with nothing to do. Yay! The Travel Channel should run this episode three, four times a week... Oh, wait, they all ready do!
I can’t even go to work to find comfort in my work computers embrace. My computer at work had a nervous breakdown, a massive heart attack and a massive stroke or some combination of all three either over the weekend or within seconds of me turning it on this morning. I love Mondays. I had the great fun of going office to office eyeing computers like a vulture or Angela Jolie after a particularity attractive orphan - asking when lunch was and why they hadn’t gone yet and when they did go, to please leave their computer on and not to hurry back. We did have two folks out today, which should have been a God send to me, but when I tried to sign on to their computers both machines told me to go fuck myself - It was in binary but it was still hurtful. The IT person finally agreed to do something disgusting to one of them or bribed it in some way , into working with me.
On a day to day bases I have access to two computers in my world and they both hate me.
But all of this has been educational. I learned that my computer has “capacitors” and they can get “swollen” and “leaky”. I did not know this. When IT checked this they found that while one of my capacitors is a little swollen, it wasn’t leaky or swollen enough to explain the overwhelming systematic damage my computer is experiencing.
I’m tired now.
Monday, June 23, 2008
You know you're dedicated when...
Your alarm goes off at 7:15am on a Saturday morning and it's not a tragic misunderstanding. You get up get dressed and you head out the door to drive two hours in the rain behind what I told myself were just big coolers but on closer inspection were actually burial vaults. Heavenly Homes indeed.
To sit in a ball room just so you can say Yay or Nay for three or four or five hours.
But before you do that, you have to get signed in
And after you get signed in you get your offical bag
And then you see all the stuff you can buy to fill your official bag up. If there was an election realted thing or more specifically, if they could get Obamas' name or image on it, they had it. You want a hat? They had hats, you want an item of clothing? They had your size.
But the real reason we were all there was to buy buttons.
But before we could get to the heady business of electing delegates, we had to be called to order, sit through a very, very, very long invocation, because like the GOP, Democrats worship God too! and pledge allegiance - New for 2008, we brought a Flag! No pledging our allegiance to some guys tie for us this year, this year we brought our own flag, because like the GOP, we love 'Murica almost as much as we love God!
You are saying Yay or Nay for three hours so you can send fellow Democrats to Denver to the convention. I think we sent everyone but me and one man who approached the woman sitting next to me, to announce he was "done with this party" and then flounced off, he did the straight man flounce, but he flounced. I don't know how he managed to not get elected, we elected about 45,000 people go. It did help if your name was printed in bold on the list, because those people got elected. I guess the guy was not a bold faced name. He flounced, hardly how a bold face name would conduct themselves at a party convention. After he flounced off, the woman sitting behind me said "Well, there goes another McCain voter".
This year in an attempted to get more members of the Young Democrats into the big league, each section was assigned it's own YD member to act as a lobbyist for their delegates. Our lobbyist was the most obnoxious young woman I have ever met. I really didn't like her and I on purpose voted against the YD she was braying at us about, Vote for himmmmmmmm! You have to vote for Braaaaaadllyy! He's a YYYYYDDDDDDDDD, You Haaaavvvvveeee to voooottee for himmmmmmm! Noooooooooo, yoouuu cooowwwwww, I dooooonnnn't haaavvvvveeee tooooooo!. I think he was the only Bold Face Name who was not elected. I blame her.
It was to our benefit to vote with the majority for a candidate. If the voice vote was too close, we were forced to do it by poll, this stopped the proceedings cold. Each of the 94 counties had to poll itself individually, and then the county chair had to go stand in line to turn in their ballots. This stopped the proceedings cold for about 35 minutes. Fortunately, this only happened twice. Some of us are slow learners.
Once this was done, we were onto the Platform and the vote to just approve it and move on so we could go home. First we had to debate it. A ballroom full of people do not engage in "debate" in an efficient manner. For every resolution, a line of people who arrange themselves behind the microphones to plead their cases. There were 73 resolutions, lucky for us the moderator moonlights as a auctioneer. and those resolutions were those that the resolution committee viewed as "noncontroversial" resolutions that could be voted on without discussion. HA.
These were the resolutions praising our troops, ecology, mass transit and election reform. Resolutions for improved health care access, Habeas Corpus rights for detainees at Gitmo. Resolutions concerning the removal of mercenary forces overseas AKA The Blackwater resoultion, and one outlawing military recruitment of minors.
So that you don't get the impression wwere hate everything, there was one in praise of NASA. We then condemned "plan Columbia" which in reading sounds like what we were doing in Nicaragua. There were two resolutions about instant run offs on for and one against.
And finally, you really know you are a Democrat when up for recommendation for discussion under Miscellaneous Concerns is the following:
Resolution 82, Urging the NC Democratic Party to Support Creation of a Federal Department of Peace and Non-Violence.
Whereas the proposed legislation to create a United States Department of Peace and Non-Violence department that will be headed by a Secretary of Peace and Non-Violence. who will advise the President on issues both domestic and international in scope, giving peace building a chance, a voice and a budget at the highest levels of government... Long resolution short? see the text of House Bill 808
I don't know know how that one got voted on. This wasn't my first convention, I left before the real debates over resolutions started. I'm dedicated, I'm not demented.
Your alarm goes off at 7:15am on a Saturday morning and it's not a tragic misunderstanding. You get up get dressed and you head out the door to drive two hours in the rain behind what I told myself were just big coolers but on closer inspection were actually burial vaults. Heavenly Homes indeed.
To sit in a ball room just so you can say Yay or Nay for three or four or five hours.
But before you do that, you have to get signed in
And after you get signed in you get your offical bag
And then you see all the stuff you can buy to fill your official bag up. If there was an election realted thing or more specifically, if they could get Obamas' name or image on it, they had it. You want a hat? They had hats, you want an item of clothing? They had your size.
But the real reason we were all there was to buy buttons.
But before we could get to the heady business of electing delegates, we had to be called to order, sit through a very, very, very long invocation, because like the GOP, Democrats worship God too! and pledge allegiance - New for 2008, we brought a Flag! No pledging our allegiance to some guys tie for us this year, this year we brought our own flag, because like the GOP, we love 'Murica almost as much as we love God!
You are saying Yay or Nay for three hours so you can send fellow Democrats to Denver to the convention. I think we sent everyone but me and one man who approached the woman sitting next to me, to announce he was "done with this party" and then flounced off, he did the straight man flounce, but he flounced. I don't know how he managed to not get elected, we elected about 45,000 people go. It did help if your name was printed in bold on the list, because those people got elected. I guess the guy was not a bold faced name. He flounced, hardly how a bold face name would conduct themselves at a party convention. After he flounced off, the woman sitting behind me said "Well, there goes another McCain voter".
This year in an attempted to get more members of the Young Democrats into the big league, each section was assigned it's own YD member to act as a lobbyist for their delegates. Our lobbyist was the most obnoxious young woman I have ever met. I really didn't like her and I on purpose voted against the YD she was braying at us about, Vote for himmmmmmmm! You have to vote for Braaaaaadllyy! He's a YYYYYDDDDDDDDD, You Haaaavvvvveeee to voooottee for himmmmmmm! Noooooooooo, yoouuu cooowwwwww, I dooooonnnn't haaavvvvveeee tooooooo!. I think he was the only Bold Face Name who was not elected. I blame her.
It was to our benefit to vote with the majority for a candidate. If the voice vote was too close, we were forced to do it by poll, this stopped the proceedings cold. Each of the 94 counties had to poll itself individually, and then the county chair had to go stand in line to turn in their ballots. This stopped the proceedings cold for about 35 minutes. Fortunately, this only happened twice. Some of us are slow learners.
Once this was done, we were onto the Platform and the vote to just approve it and move on so we could go home. First we had to debate it. A ballroom full of people do not engage in "debate" in an efficient manner. For every resolution, a line of people who arrange themselves behind the microphones to plead their cases. There were 73 resolutions, lucky for us the moderator moonlights as a auctioneer. and those resolutions were those that the resolution committee viewed as "noncontroversial" resolutions that could be voted on without discussion. HA.
These were the resolutions praising our troops, ecology, mass transit and election reform. Resolutions for improved health care access, Habeas Corpus rights for detainees at Gitmo. Resolutions concerning the removal of mercenary forces overseas AKA The Blackwater resoultion, and one outlawing military recruitment of minors.
So that you don't get the impression wwere hate everything, there was one in praise of NASA. We then condemned "plan Columbia" which in reading sounds like what we were doing in Nicaragua. There were two resolutions about instant run offs on for and one against.
And finally, you really know you are a Democrat when up for recommendation for discussion under Miscellaneous Concerns is the following:
Resolution 82, Urging the NC Democratic Party to Support Creation of a Federal Department of Peace and Non-Violence.
Whereas the proposed legislation to create a United States Department of Peace and Non-Violence department that will be headed by a Secretary of Peace and Non-Violence. who will advise the President on issues both domestic and international in scope, giving peace building a chance, a voice and a budget at the highest levels of government... Long resolution short? see the text of House Bill 808
I don't know know how that one got voted on. This wasn't my first convention, I left before the real debates over resolutions started. I'm dedicated, I'm not demented.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
In the Garden of Good and Ennui
I'm worried about my peppers. The plants seem okay, there are no obvious signs of insect infestation, the leaves aren't yellow or chewed on, the plants themselves are tall and straight. They look great. They just aren't doing anything.
Sure, the make cute little flowers that cruelly get my hopes up, but no cute little peppers have followed. I checked my veggie manuals and the variety I planted isn't listed. This can't be a good thing and even worse? When I went out and looked at their tag, it says it takes 78 days to do it's thing! 78 days! That's all summer! The other varieties the book does mention are around 50 days. A good round, achievable number. 78 days! Do you have any idea how many very bad things can happen to a plant in 78 days? Approximately 267,324 and that's just the bug catastrophes. There are fungal infections, drought, floods, birds, the dog, Me!! I mean the longer those things are out there unprotected the better the chances that they are never going to live to produce.
And of course, I have takers for the peppers. I all ready know that no one I know wants my eggplants, but that's not a huge problem as thus far there has been no movement towards setting fruit on those plants either as they are obviously in league with the peppers. The squash won't have any takers, again, not a real problem since as yet there are no squash. The collards, the cucumbers and the tomatoes are at least trying but I'm not sure that any one wants those either.
Do the plants know? Can they tell? Am I giving off an ambivalent vibe? Do they feel unwanted? Are they depressed? Should I be out there reading to them from vegetarian cookbooks? I've weeded and watered and fertilized and they are in the only sunny spot on the property, WHAT DO THEY WANT FROM ME!!??
The tomatoes on the other hand seem happy, the smaller variety is all ready turning red and the larger variety grows larger every day - So I know they don't all hate me. My tomatoes love me, why can't I make it work with the others? Is there some sort of therapy we could be trying? Does Mr. Green Jeans do house calls?
I looked online and found that my peppers are completely normal run of the mill peppers, and actually they are a version of a variety they did mention, but still they should have mentioned them by name. People who know what they are doing and can differentiate between varietals do not consult manuals and they most certainly wouldn't be consulting The Miracle-Gro Complete Guide to Vegetables and Herbs no matter how informative or useful it is. It's strictly for bourgeois neophyte gardeners and they can't make any assumptions about how stupid we are about plants! we need answers about our pepper varieties!
A quick check of the veggie manual lets me know that maybe the reason my peppers aren't very peppy is that it may be too warm for them. It's not even summer yet, it can't be "too warm". Hell, it's North Carolina! even when its hot, it's not too warm. I know from too warm and it ain't too warm. I'll let the peppers know when its "too warm". Damn it. The manual also has informed me that what I thought were squished baby squash were most likely unfertilized female squash flowers or maybe they were unfertilized female cucumber flowers, it's hard to tell - Squash plants and Cucumber plants are both viney and they both have showy yellow flowers. If I have boy flowers and girl flowers why am I not racking up so few baby anythings?.
I'm worried about my peppers. The plants seem okay, there are no obvious signs of insect infestation, the leaves aren't yellow or chewed on, the plants themselves are tall and straight. They look great. They just aren't doing anything.
Sure, the make cute little flowers that cruelly get my hopes up, but no cute little peppers have followed. I checked my veggie manuals and the variety I planted isn't listed. This can't be a good thing and even worse? When I went out and looked at their tag, it says it takes 78 days to do it's thing! 78 days! That's all summer! The other varieties the book does mention are around 50 days. A good round, achievable number. 78 days! Do you have any idea how many very bad things can happen to a plant in 78 days? Approximately 267,324 and that's just the bug catastrophes. There are fungal infections, drought, floods, birds, the dog, Me!! I mean the longer those things are out there unprotected the better the chances that they are never going to live to produce.
And of course, I have takers for the peppers. I all ready know that no one I know wants my eggplants, but that's not a huge problem as thus far there has been no movement towards setting fruit on those plants either as they are obviously in league with the peppers. The squash won't have any takers, again, not a real problem since as yet there are no squash. The collards, the cucumbers and the tomatoes are at least trying but I'm not sure that any one wants those either.
Do the plants know? Can they tell? Am I giving off an ambivalent vibe? Do they feel unwanted? Are they depressed? Should I be out there reading to them from vegetarian cookbooks? I've weeded and watered and fertilized and they are in the only sunny spot on the property, WHAT DO THEY WANT FROM ME!!??
The tomatoes on the other hand seem happy, the smaller variety is all ready turning red and the larger variety grows larger every day - So I know they don't all hate me. My tomatoes love me, why can't I make it work with the others? Is there some sort of therapy we could be trying? Does Mr. Green Jeans do house calls?
I looked online and found that my peppers are completely normal run of the mill peppers, and actually they are a version of a variety they did mention, but still they should have mentioned them by name. People who know what they are doing and can differentiate between varietals do not consult manuals and they most certainly wouldn't be consulting The Miracle-Gro Complete Guide to Vegetables and Herbs no matter how informative or useful it is. It's strictly for bourgeois neophyte gardeners and they can't make any assumptions about how stupid we are about plants! we need answers about our pepper varieties!
A quick check of the veggie manual lets me know that maybe the reason my peppers aren't very peppy is that it may be too warm for them. It's not even summer yet, it can't be "too warm". Hell, it's North Carolina! even when its hot, it's not too warm. I know from too warm and it ain't too warm. I'll let the peppers know when its "too warm". Damn it. The manual also has informed me that what I thought were squished baby squash were most likely unfertilized female squash flowers or maybe they were unfertilized female cucumber flowers, it's hard to tell - Squash plants and Cucumber plants are both viney and they both have showy yellow flowers. If I have boy flowers and girl flowers why am I not racking up so few baby anythings?.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Photoblogging
Monday evening I went to unlock my door and the key broke in the lock. There was briefly, wailing and gnashing of teeth. I decided after I finished wailing and gnashing. that this whole broken-key-in-latch thing was going to have to be temporary. At first, I pawed at it. This was not making it a less temporary. If anything, I pushed the key piece further in. More gnashing and wailing ensued.
I decided to call in the big guns. I went to see what my tool box might have to offer.
And it said This job calls for a more specialized tool than your fingers. This job calls for a more refined tool, perhaps like these:
I used these. They did not work, obligatory gnashing and wailing.I need something that was like what I had been useing but even smaller .Gnash, gnash, wail, wail.. But then I had an idea. I stopped gnashing and wailing and looked at my other "tools".
A little poking a little prying and little wheedling, very little gnashing and no wailing.
And moving on to Tuesday, we have already discussed my big brass ovaries.
Wednesday. My home or as I now call it The Island of Chronically Ill Pets. My vet got back to me and confirmed my suspicion's. The Kitty's thyroid numbers were indeed high. My vet took her time getting back to me so I had some time to do research. Weight loss, increased appetite, thirst and activity. Check, check, check! There are three treatments. One is too expensive but it fixes the problem once and for all, the second is a surgical solution but it has a rather shocking mortality rate, and the last is a life time of pill taking.
I went to Sam's after work to pick up The Kitty's new prescription and they didn't have enough of it, I asked for a refill of one my prescriptions but my insurance said I was asking too early. No Gnashing, gnashing would hurt. Wailing, there was wailing. My plan had been to do get all my pharmacy going taken care of at once, fewer trips, less gas, all these good things. It wasn't to be. I get to go back Friday. Yay.
Oh, and for the cake fetishist?
Monday evening I went to unlock my door and the key broke in the lock. There was briefly, wailing and gnashing of teeth. I decided after I finished wailing and gnashing. that this whole broken-key-in-latch thing was going to have to be temporary. At first, I pawed at it. This was not making it a less temporary. If anything, I pushed the key piece further in. More gnashing and wailing ensued.
I decided to call in the big guns. I went to see what my tool box might have to offer.
And it said This job calls for a more specialized tool than your fingers. This job calls for a more refined tool, perhaps like these:
I used these. They did not work, obligatory gnashing and wailing.I need something that was like what I had been useing but even smaller .Gnash, gnash, wail, wail.. But then I had an idea. I stopped gnashing and wailing and looked at my other "tools".
A little poking a little prying and little wheedling, very little gnashing and no wailing.
And moving on to Tuesday, we have already discussed my big brass ovaries.
Wednesday. My home or as I now call it The Island of Chronically Ill Pets. My vet got back to me and confirmed my suspicion's. The Kitty's thyroid numbers were indeed high. My vet took her time getting back to me so I had some time to do research. Weight loss, increased appetite, thirst and activity. Check, check, check! There are three treatments. One is too expensive but it fixes the problem once and for all, the second is a surgical solution but it has a rather shocking mortality rate, and the last is a life time of pill taking.
I went to Sam's after work to pick up The Kitty's new prescription and they didn't have enough of it, I asked for a refill of one my prescriptions but my insurance said I was asking too early. No Gnashing, gnashing would hurt. Wailing, there was wailing. My plan had been to do get all my pharmacy going taken care of at once, fewer trips, less gas, all these good things. It wasn't to be. I get to go back Friday. Yay.
Oh, and for the cake fetishist?
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Getting to the root of the matter
I got up, I went to work, I went to the dentist, I had a root canal. During the course of the procedure my jaw slipped out of alignment which caused the normally, fairly pain-free procedure to hurt like hell. A root canal requires drilling, and everytime the kindly endodontist drilled, and he drilled a lot and I hurt a lot. The kindly endodontist finished up his drilling and very kindly put my jaw back where it belonged, then I went back to work. I have ovaries of steel.
And now my ovaries and I are making tiny pink cupcakes for Tiny E because she requires cake, and we all want you to look at these pictures
http://megjac.fotopages.com/?entry=1580924&back=http://megjac.fotopages.com/
I got up, I went to work, I went to the dentist, I had a root canal. During the course of the procedure my jaw slipped out of alignment which caused the normally, fairly pain-free procedure to hurt like hell. A root canal requires drilling, and everytime the kindly endodontist drilled, and he drilled a lot and I hurt a lot. The kindly endodontist finished up his drilling and very kindly put my jaw back where it belonged, then I went back to work. I have ovaries of steel.
And now my ovaries and I are making tiny pink cupcakes for Tiny E because she requires cake, and we all want you to look at these pictures
http://megjac.fotopages.com/?entry=1580924&back=http://megjac.fotopages.com/
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Veggiemite
Dear MoveOn Member,
This weekend, we're kicking off a history-making general election season with an event for the ages: nationwide "Hungry for Change" bake sales to raise money for MoveOn's innovative (and massive!) campaign to help elect Barack Obama and other progressives this fall...The money we raise will go to our cutting-edge campaign to elect Obama—and win enough seats in the House and Senate to give him the votes he needs to end the war, pass universal health care, and make real progress on the issues we fight so hard for.
Okay, I would argue how “cutting edge” holding a bake sale is or how very sad it is that we are going to war armed with chocolate chip cookies. I fear for us if we are funding the progressive movement with bake sales, are we all going to join hands and sing One date bar at a time sweet Jesus?
How do you do a “cutting edge” bake sale? Is it all organic? Vegan? The bakers promise to use only Certified Free Trade frosting? I don't care! I wanna do this! I wanna make pink cupcakes! I want to make pink cupcakes with chocolate icing! And sprinkles! Pink sprinkles! Damn the democrats for scheduling the state convention the same weekend. I mean, it's not fair! bake sale! convention! bake sale! convention! bake sale! I can’t do both. You would think Moveon.Com would have checked, made a couple of phone calls asked or something! There are a dozen pink cupcakes out there that will never see the light of day now. I have been desperate to bake something and this could have been my chance! I blame this on Tiny E. She said “cake” the other day and now I hear this tiny voice begging for cake!cake!cake! all the time. No cake for Tiny E, no cake for Obama. Damn you scheduling Gawds!
There will however be vegetables for Tiny E. Lots and lots of vegetables. I decided it was time to stop consulting books on flower arranging for advice and get serious and look for books about actual vegetable gardening. Books as in plural. Oh, yeah, that’s right. I’m hard core now. This gardening thing is bordering on an investment now.
I had questions and for a fee, they had answers. Lots and Lots of answers. Answers to questions I didn’t even know to ask, like why the carrots I grew in the past all suffered from awful deformities not at all like the ones in the stores, answer : Evil Corporate Carrots. I learned that not all plants need bees to do their dirty work for them and that I need to have some patience with my plants, I need to stop begging them for grandveggies and let nature takes it’s course. The neighbors will appreciate a break from the Barry White I’ve been blasting at my plants 24-7 in hopes it would get my plants in the mood.
I also learned that should have provided trellises for my cucumbers to climb on and I haven’t used as firm a hand with the squash as I should have, and I should have planted my collards in the fall, not the summer, but I could start harvesting the leaves at anytime and of course, if I were a “real” farmer of collards I would have planted more than four plants, Oh well. If I were a real farmer I would have more than four feet of arable ground to cultivate.
I have other questions for the books. Like who killed my baby squash?, I had a baby squash and then I didn’t have a baby squash. It was there and then it wasn’t -Something squished my squash! It was like a vegetarian chuchabra came along and sucked its little squashy essence right out. It made me fear for my two or maybe three tiny cucumbers, I now where two are and I think I had another, I can’t remember! I am a bad vegetable mother! I think someone cold cocked my cuke! I haven’t seen anything wandering around, but it could have been anything in the nasty, gnarly bug family. They are all nasty and gnarly but only a select few truly suck and that’s what it looks like something did to my veggies. I’m only going to have a very few of them total, you would think Mother Nature would be cooler about it.
Dear MoveOn Member,
This weekend, we're kicking off a history-making general election season with an event for the ages: nationwide "Hungry for Change" bake sales to raise money for MoveOn's innovative (and massive!) campaign to help elect Barack Obama and other progressives this fall...The money we raise will go to our cutting-edge campaign to elect Obama—and win enough seats in the House and Senate to give him the votes he needs to end the war, pass universal health care, and make real progress on the issues we fight so hard for.
Okay, I would argue how “cutting edge” holding a bake sale is or how very sad it is that we are going to war armed with chocolate chip cookies. I fear for us if we are funding the progressive movement with bake sales, are we all going to join hands and sing One date bar at a time sweet Jesus?
How do you do a “cutting edge” bake sale? Is it all organic? Vegan? The bakers promise to use only Certified Free Trade frosting? I don't care! I wanna do this! I wanna make pink cupcakes! I want to make pink cupcakes with chocolate icing! And sprinkles! Pink sprinkles! Damn the democrats for scheduling the state convention the same weekend. I mean, it's not fair! bake sale! convention! bake sale! convention! bake sale! I can’t do both. You would think Moveon.Com would have checked, made a couple of phone calls asked or something! There are a dozen pink cupcakes out there that will never see the light of day now. I have been desperate to bake something and this could have been my chance! I blame this on Tiny E. She said “cake” the other day and now I hear this tiny voice begging for cake!cake!cake! all the time. No cake for Tiny E, no cake for Obama. Damn you scheduling Gawds!
There will however be vegetables for Tiny E. Lots and lots of vegetables. I decided it was time to stop consulting books on flower arranging for advice and get serious and look for books about actual vegetable gardening. Books as in plural. Oh, yeah, that’s right. I’m hard core now. This gardening thing is bordering on an investment now.
I had questions and for a fee, they had answers. Lots and Lots of answers. Answers to questions I didn’t even know to ask, like why the carrots I grew in the past all suffered from awful deformities not at all like the ones in the stores, answer : Evil Corporate Carrots. I learned that not all plants need bees to do their dirty work for them and that I need to have some patience with my plants, I need to stop begging them for grandveggies and let nature takes it’s course. The neighbors will appreciate a break from the Barry White I’ve been blasting at my plants 24-7 in hopes it would get my plants in the mood.
I also learned that should have provided trellises for my cucumbers to climb on and I haven’t used as firm a hand with the squash as I should have, and I should have planted my collards in the fall, not the summer, but I could start harvesting the leaves at anytime and of course, if I were a “real” farmer of collards I would have planted more than four plants, Oh well. If I were a real farmer I would have more than four feet of arable ground to cultivate.
I have other questions for the books. Like who killed my baby squash?, I had a baby squash and then I didn’t have a baby squash. It was there and then it wasn’t -Something squished my squash! It was like a vegetarian chuchabra came along and sucked its little squashy essence right out. It made me fear for my two or maybe three tiny cucumbers, I now where two are and I think I had another, I can’t remember! I am a bad vegetable mother! I think someone cold cocked my cuke! I haven’t seen anything wandering around, but it could have been anything in the nasty, gnarly bug family. They are all nasty and gnarly but only a select few truly suck and that’s what it looks like something did to my veggies. I’m only going to have a very few of them total, you would think Mother Nature would be cooler about it.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Caturday
I was a good little citizen on Saturday. Despite the fact it was hotter than hell outside and humid enough to make the wallpaper curl and I was forced to miss Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me! on the radio, I attended The South Central CAC Community Festival, which was held at noon, outdoors and staged on a parking lot. I was introduced to someone as, You know her, she's thethe white girl with the dog. It was all good though. I got a free hot dog, a complementary tee shirt and a chance to pet a police horse out of it. It was a nice change from the last time I was around police horses, they was in full riot gear and petting was not encouraged.
Earlier on Saturday they held the annual Race for The Cure in Raleigh. It drew about 24,000. I know it was for a very good cause but I saw them 24,000 strong monstrous, many tentacled detour of pain-in-the-assedness. "Fun" runs are great fun for the people who are participating in them, but no one else is having fun. I would prefer these things to explore their running track options and other places that do not require me to drive miles out of the way. If you can have "fun" running down major thoroughfares and blocking traffic for hours, you can have a blast running around and around and around a track as well. The last time I had a Saturday vet appointment was the weekend when Dogger was trying to die and we got held up by a run that weekend too. I have yet to have fun at a fun run.
The Kitty had his quarterly vet appointment for his blood draw/blackmail. If I don't take him in and let them draw his blood and my money, they won't give me a prescription for his pred. They called me last week to let me know if he ended up needing to be anesthetized for the blood draw that I would have to make another appointment and come back. I assured them that The Kitty has his very own muzzle and that has work out well in the past. What I did not say was with gas hovering around $4 a gallon, I don't come back and I am not making any second trips. We were going to do this on the first try or we were going to assume that if he is healthy enough to fight, he's healthy enough for three more months of pred.
He has lost weight and oddly, the vet did not seemed happy about it. The vets in the past have always been happy about it when he has lost weight because he has always had so much of it to lose. I point out that he was at 21 pounds and after much dieting/torture he was at 17 and then he got very ill and stayed that way for a while and he was down to about 11 pounds, which really was skeletal for him by the time my ex-vet tested and tested and tested for everything in the entire world and ultimately put him on the very healthy, Birkenstock-granola-lifestyle-gluten-free food he's on now, which worked like magic, but maybe too healthy over the long haul. I'm hoping that all it is, that all he needs is something with a higher fat content. Do they make gluten free cat treats?
I was a good little citizen on Saturday. Despite the fact it was hotter than hell outside and humid enough to make the wallpaper curl and I was forced to miss Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me! on the radio, I attended The South Central CAC Community Festival, which was held at noon, outdoors and staged on a parking lot. I was introduced to someone as, You know her, she's the
Earlier on Saturday they held the annual Race for The Cure in Raleigh. It drew about 24,000. I know it was for a very good cause but I saw them 24,000 strong monstrous, many tentacled detour of pain-in-the-assedness. "Fun" runs are great fun for the people who are participating in them, but no one else is having fun. I would prefer these things to explore their running track options and other places that do not require me to drive miles out of the way. If you can have "fun" running down major thoroughfares and blocking traffic for hours, you can have a blast running around and around and around a track as well. The last time I had a Saturday vet appointment was the weekend when Dogger was trying to die and we got held up by a run that weekend too. I have yet to have fun at a fun run.
The Kitty had his quarterly vet appointment for his blood draw/blackmail. If I don't take him in and let them draw his blood and my money, they won't give me a prescription for his pred. They called me last week to let me know if he ended up needing to be anesthetized for the blood draw that I would have to make another appointment and come back. I assured them that The Kitty has his very own muzzle and that has work out well in the past. What I did not say was with gas hovering around $4 a gallon, I don't come back and I am not making any second trips. We were going to do this on the first try or we were going to assume that if he is healthy enough to fight, he's healthy enough for three more months of pred.
He has lost weight and oddly, the vet did not seemed happy about it. The vets in the past have always been happy about it when he has lost weight because he has always had so much of it to lose. I point out that he was at 21 pounds and after much dieting/torture he was at 17 and then he got very ill and stayed that way for a while and he was down to about 11 pounds, which really was skeletal for him by the time my ex-vet tested and tested and tested for everything in the entire world and ultimately put him on the very healthy, Birkenstock-granola-lifestyle-gluten-free food he's on now, which worked like magic, but maybe too healthy over the long haul. I'm hoping that all it is, that all he needs is something with a higher fat content. Do they make gluten free cat treats?
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
Wow.
Des Moines being evacuated
"It seems like we're having the hundred-year flood every four years. It's absurd"
Des Moines being evacuated
"It seems like we're having the hundred-year flood every four years. It's absurd"
Smoke gets in my eyes and in my hair...
Triangle may get whiff of blaze
With wildfire still burning in Eastern North Carolina, Triangle residents could smell smoke today.
Thursday morning they were comfortable with could. They could have asked me, I would have told them I smelled it last night and that what I saw coming in Wednesday night and confused with storm clouds wasn't clouds, it was smoke.
Smoke Moves In
Callers clogged the 9-1-1 emergency communications center in Raleigh this morning to report the smoky haze and acrid odor that moved into the region overnight from the wildfire at the Pocosin Lakes National Wildlife Refuge in Eastern North Carolina.
The smoke smells like burning rubber and that confused me, I thought that burning trees would smell like burning wood, not this rubbery mechanical-y odor that has drifted in; and while it did take me a while to put 2 and 2 together when I began to smell something off , I didn't feel compelled to call 911 about it while I was thinking it over. I don't know what kind of trees are burning at that refuge but the smoke smells like a tire dump is on fire. It is the same odor one might notice after forgetting to take the emergency brake off and then driving for a while. At speed... Not that I would know about leaving the emergency brake on, But I have read detailed accounts of others experiences and they describe an odor very much like the one we are experiencing now.
Speaking of petroleum by-products, I went to check out the vintage clothing store I tried to visit last weekend. I was looking though the racks and I ran across a Mexican wedding dress that was as nice as the one that I and every other girl and woman in Texas had three of in 1982. I was like Yeah. It's nice but I had one just like it, it's hardly "vintage". I learned also that in today's world, polyester double knit pants are sold as vintage and I guess if you were born in 1983 they would be. I am so old.
The smoke doesn't seem to be having a negative impact on the garden. I found a new blossom, that might be an eggplant - I can't tell really, I know it's not a squash as they seem be yellow flowers and it's too big to be what I think are sweet bell pepper flowers and, I see a hint of aubergine or it may be a squash with issues. I don't really care, at this point anything reaching maturity would be very exciting. Do they have books like What To Expect when You Are Expecting for first time gardener's? The Girl Friends Guide to Urban Farming? Not Your Great Grandmothers Victory Garden! or even, The Dummies Guide to Growing Things?. I found that I do have a book about gardening but it seems to take for granted you come equipped with a sizable budget, a yard the size of a soccer field, and a staff.
When I laid out my garden I just looked around for the flattest sunny spot in the yard and said there, scraped the ground, dumped in new soil and planted my plants (too many, too close together). Next year bigger garden, fewer plants. According to the book I was supposed to carefully plot out where I was going to put everything and make grids and in general plan a lot more than I did.
Also, according to the book, if I wanted to start a garden I should have started in February and the fact I waited until April says I am an amateur and shouldn't be allowed near as much as a garden salad much less a garden of my own.
The book also thinks I should grow everything from seed. I lied to the book about planting seedlings, I couldn't bear it's further disappointment. In my defence, I didn't know that I was supposed start everything from seed or that gardens were supposed to be geometrically perfect or that it is important to "pre-treat" the soil or even that I was supposed to be pruning my tomatoes. The book would not approve of the tomato tree, a tall tomato plant is a very bad thing and is the mark of an undisciplined garden and a bad gardener.
You discipline a tomato plant and not walk away feeling dirty.
Triangle may get whiff of blaze
With wildfire still burning in Eastern North Carolina, Triangle residents could smell smoke today.
Thursday morning they were comfortable with could. They could have asked me, I would have told them I smelled it last night and that what I saw coming in Wednesday night and confused with storm clouds wasn't clouds, it was smoke.
Smoke Moves In
Callers clogged the 9-1-1 emergency communications center in Raleigh this morning to report the smoky haze and acrid odor that moved into the region overnight from the wildfire at the Pocosin Lakes National Wildlife Refuge in Eastern North Carolina.
The smoke smells like burning rubber and that confused me, I thought that burning trees would smell like burning wood, not this rubbery mechanical-y odor that has drifted in; and while it did take me a while to put 2 and 2 together when I began to smell something off , I didn't feel compelled to call 911 about it while I was thinking it over. I don't know what kind of trees are burning at that refuge but the smoke smells like a tire dump is on fire. It is the same odor one might notice after forgetting to take the emergency brake off and then driving for a while. At speed... Not that I would know about leaving the emergency brake on, But I have read detailed accounts of others experiences and they describe an odor very much like the one we are experiencing now.
Speaking of petroleum by-products, I went to check out the vintage clothing store I tried to visit last weekend. I was looking though the racks and I ran across a Mexican wedding dress that was as nice as the one that I and every other girl and woman in Texas had three of in 1982. I was like Yeah. It's nice but I had one just like it, it's hardly "vintage". I learned also that in today's world, polyester double knit pants are sold as vintage and I guess if you were born in 1983 they would be. I am so old.
The smoke doesn't seem to be having a negative impact on the garden. I found a new blossom, that might be an eggplant - I can't tell really, I know it's not a squash as they seem be yellow flowers and it's too big to be what I think are sweet bell pepper flowers and, I see a hint of aubergine or it may be a squash with issues. I don't really care, at this point anything reaching maturity would be very exciting. Do they have books like What To Expect when You Are Expecting for first time gardener's? The Girl Friends Guide to Urban Farming? Not Your Great Grandmothers Victory Garden! or even, The Dummies Guide to Growing Things?. I found that I do have a book about gardening but it seems to take for granted you come equipped with a sizable budget, a yard the size of a soccer field, and a staff.
When I laid out my garden I just looked around for the flattest sunny spot in the yard and said there, scraped the ground, dumped in new soil and planted my plants (too many, too close together). Next year bigger garden, fewer plants. According to the book I was supposed to carefully plot out where I was going to put everything and make grids and in general plan a lot more than I did.
Also, according to the book, if I wanted to start a garden I should have started in February and the fact I waited until April says I am an amateur and shouldn't be allowed near as much as a garden salad much less a garden of my own.
The book also thinks I should grow everything from seed. I lied to the book about planting seedlings, I couldn't bear it's further disappointment. In my defence, I didn't know that I was supposed start everything from seed or that gardens were supposed to be geometrically perfect or that it is important to "pre-treat" the soil or even that I was supposed to be pruning my tomatoes. The book would not approve of the tomato tree, a tall tomato plant is a very bad thing and is the mark of an undisciplined garden and a bad gardener.
You discipline a tomato plant and not walk away feeling dirty.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Green
I came home from work Tuesday pilled and fed everyone, watered the plants, walked Dogger and then went on a bike ride. Did you know Krispy Kream doesn’t have a bike rack? Lots of handicapped parking but no where to lock your bike. I don’t think they are big proponents of exercise. Imagine, a donut manufacturer not being big into exercise or healthy habits. And then I rode my bike home came and munched on my donuts and took a shower and then sat in front of the TV and watched two hours of Anthony Bourdon.- which I view as education programming in the face of more time in front of CSI and Order. I was very productive.
Wednesday I came home, pilled and fed everyone, watched a DVD and then fell asleep for two hours.
That is not what I call productive. I finally got up because Dogger was whining I went downstairs to see what she wanted and discovered she was whining because she had a hair squishy in her mouth and nobody cared. I don’t think she really likes the taste of the squishies as much as she enjoys being chased around the dinning room table and the cookie she inevitably gets to hand over the squishy. When it gets hot like this and neither of us are real excited about going outside, I leave the odd hair squishy around so Dogger can get in her exercise. You would be surprised how much a few laps around the dinning room table can do for your heart rate.
Wednesday I really didn’t want to do race around the table. I was hot and I was tired so I went back to sleep on the chair. It was then I discoverd that Dogger has a skill. It may be hard to believe but Dogger gives a very good foot massage, a little slurpy, but very through . She has a very muscular tongue... I may have over shared.
Now awake and a little queasy, I decided it would be a good time to go walk the fence line and check out the crops. I noticed that it seemed a little gray out and decided to water quickly to make sure that it rains like hell. It never fails, the more throughly I water the harder it rains. I haven’t been watering throughly enough lately and as a result it hasn’t rained in weeks. As I was inspecting the crops I noticed that my baby squash died on the vine! I was devastated. Thank God my tomatoes are still looking healthy! But I’m sure there are evil tomato killers out there just waiting on the right time to strike though and I see a trip to the store for some tomato killer-centric poison in my future.
I told my friend at work about my new raspberry plants and she said was “If you use organic fertilizer, once you have berries I’ll take some”, I countered with that I only have the two plants and I’m not planning on having “extras”. It’s not like you get stuck with unwanted berries. It’s not like unwanted cucumbers - Not that I have any idea what thats like.
Like everything else I planted the cucumber plants are lovely and lush and green but not producing anything but oxygen., which is nice, sure, who doesn’t love a good lung full of oxygen, but you just don’t get the same umph from harvesting oxygen.
I came home from work Tuesday pilled and fed everyone, watered the plants, walked Dogger and then went on a bike ride. Did you know Krispy Kream doesn’t have a bike rack? Lots of handicapped parking but no where to lock your bike. I don’t think they are big proponents of exercise. Imagine, a donut manufacturer not being big into exercise or healthy habits. And then I rode my bike home came and munched on my donuts and took a shower and then sat in front of the TV and watched two hours of Anthony Bourdon.- which I view as education programming in the face of more time in front of CSI and Order. I was very productive.
Wednesday I came home, pilled and fed everyone, watched a DVD and then fell asleep for two hours.
That is not what I call productive. I finally got up because Dogger was whining I went downstairs to see what she wanted and discovered she was whining because she had a hair squishy in her mouth and nobody cared. I don’t think she really likes the taste of the squishies as much as she enjoys being chased around the dinning room table and the cookie she inevitably gets to hand over the squishy. When it gets hot like this and neither of us are real excited about going outside, I leave the odd hair squishy around so Dogger can get in her exercise. You would be surprised how much a few laps around the dinning room table can do for your heart rate.
Wednesday I really didn’t want to do race around the table. I was hot and I was tired so I went back to sleep on the chair. It was then I discoverd that Dogger has a skill. It may be hard to believe but Dogger gives a very good foot massage, a little slurpy, but very through . She has a very muscular tongue... I may have over shared.
Now awake and a little queasy, I decided it would be a good time to go walk the fence line and check out the crops. I noticed that it seemed a little gray out and decided to water quickly to make sure that it rains like hell. It never fails, the more throughly I water the harder it rains. I haven’t been watering throughly enough lately and as a result it hasn’t rained in weeks. As I was inspecting the crops I noticed that my baby squash died on the vine! I was devastated. Thank God my tomatoes are still looking healthy! But I’m sure there are evil tomato killers out there just waiting on the right time to strike though and I see a trip to the store for some tomato killer-centric poison in my future.
I told my friend at work about my new raspberry plants and she said was “If you use organic fertilizer, once you have berries I’ll take some”, I countered with that I only have the two plants and I’m not planning on having “extras”. It’s not like you get stuck with unwanted berries. It’s not like unwanted cucumbers - Not that I have any idea what thats like.
Like everything else I planted the cucumber plants are lovely and lush and green but not producing anything but oxygen., which is nice, sure, who doesn’t love a good lung full of oxygen, but you just don’t get the same umph from harvesting oxygen.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
What a card
The other day word began filtering through the masses that the wife of a co-worker had died suddenly over the weekend. It’s very sad. There was no official notice and usually we get one, usually family members people we have never heard of and don't work with. It's a little morbid. We get these pretty frequently as well as directions to the viewing and information about funeral arrangements. We didn't get anything for this man, another co-worker opined that maybe it was because he's Greek and they do things different. The stupid, it burns.
We all were waiting on the notification so we could get him cards. We’re big card senders. I think it’s because this is a female dominated work place, if it were all men, cards would be a non-issue, I assume there would be a lot of nodding and shoulder thumping or something. I would imagine that men in groups aren’t big with sending cards. I mean someone has to go to the card store - Have you ever seen a man at a card store? They might as well be tampon outlets. The guy would have to look though every single card in the store, dither over the various messages, dither some more, get disgusted with card selection, go to another card store, dither more, call back to the office, dither over the phone, buy one, hate it and then organize everyone to sign it then get it to the recipient. It’s just not a guy thing. Guys dither sure, but you don’t see them dithering in the card stores. It’s a shame, it can be very cathartic, you find out exactly how you feel about the person, it's like a pop test of your relationship status.
Anyway. He didn’t work in our department so we don’t have to get a group card. It’s going to be up to the individuals to decide if they want to get him a card. I want to get him a card and finally they sent out the notice with his address and I can get him a card. Good.
So now I had plans for lunch.
So a-card-hunting I went. One, sympathy cards are hidden and hard to find. Because there is nothing you want to do more when you are in the market for sympathy cards then to spend a lot of time wading through Birthday/Congrats on The New Baby/Happy Wedding/Happy Holiday cards. And two, then you finally run across them and they all suck. They suck and they’re all ugly! glance at the Happy Whatever cards and everyone of them is pretty and at the very least pleasant to look at. Sympathy cards are ugly and badly designed. I know no one wants to get these and that nobody spends a lot of time studying them when they do get them but come on!
I finally found the Sympathy section and was underwhelmed. They were all too wordy, or too touchy-feely, or too sweet and not a single one was in anyway masculine – Which struck me as odd, they go out of their way to make sure that His birthday card is plaid and decorated with ducks and you would never find a Fathers Day card embellished with flowers, why aren’t there sympathy cards designed for grieving men?
I did finally find one that didn’t make me nauseous and also, I wanted to eat lunch over my lunch hour. I took the card to the front and do you have any idea how much it costs? $4.99! I had to ask the girl how many she was charging me for. I took the card out to the car and looked at it again, I could do better than this. The faux photo on the front was no worse than what I can do. I picked conservatively at the image to see how it was attached and if I could neatly unattached it. I started to run through my mental Rolodex of photos, I went back to work and checked my Fotopages to see if I had anything that could pass as funereal.
Not a damn thing. The poor man just lost his wife and I was tying to decide which picture of which tree came off as the most sympathetic. And? I decided that I was making this about me and I needed to stop. I’m going to mail the card as is. Nope, changed my mind. I found a very nice, highly sympathetic picture of some water lilies taken on an over cast day.
The other day word began filtering through the masses that the wife of a co-worker had died suddenly over the weekend. It’s very sad. There was no official notice and usually we get one, usually family members people we have never heard of and don't work with. It's a little morbid. We get these pretty frequently as well as directions to the viewing and information about funeral arrangements. We didn't get anything for this man, another co-worker opined that maybe it was because he's Greek and they do things different. The stupid, it burns.
We all were waiting on the notification so we could get him cards. We’re big card senders. I think it’s because this is a female dominated work place, if it were all men, cards would be a non-issue, I assume there would be a lot of nodding and shoulder thumping or something. I would imagine that men in groups aren’t big with sending cards. I mean someone has to go to the card store - Have you ever seen a man at a card store? They might as well be tampon outlets. The guy would have to look though every single card in the store, dither over the various messages, dither some more, get disgusted with card selection, go to another card store, dither more, call back to the office, dither over the phone, buy one, hate it and then organize everyone to sign it then get it to the recipient. It’s just not a guy thing. Guys dither sure, but you don’t see them dithering in the card stores. It’s a shame, it can be very cathartic, you find out exactly how you feel about the person, it's like a pop test of your relationship status.
Anyway. He didn’t work in our department so we don’t have to get a group card. It’s going to be up to the individuals to decide if they want to get him a card. I want to get him a card and finally they sent out the notice with his address and I can get him a card. Good.
So now I had plans for lunch.
So a-card-hunting I went. One, sympathy cards are hidden and hard to find. Because there is nothing you want to do more when you are in the market for sympathy cards then to spend a lot of time wading through Birthday/Congrats on The New Baby/Happy Wedding/Happy Holiday cards. And two, then you finally run across them and they all suck. They suck and they’re all ugly! glance at the Happy Whatever cards and everyone of them is pretty and at the very least pleasant to look at. Sympathy cards are ugly and badly designed. I know no one wants to get these and that nobody spends a lot of time studying them when they do get them but come on!
I finally found the Sympathy section and was underwhelmed. They were all too wordy, or too touchy-feely, or too sweet and not a single one was in anyway masculine – Which struck me as odd, they go out of their way to make sure that His birthday card is plaid and decorated with ducks and you would never find a Fathers Day card embellished with flowers, why aren’t there sympathy cards designed for grieving men?
I did finally find one that didn’t make me nauseous and also, I wanted to eat lunch over my lunch hour. I took the card to the front and do you have any idea how much it costs? $4.99! I had to ask the girl how many she was charging me for. I took the card out to the car and looked at it again, I could do better than this. The faux photo on the front was no worse than what I can do. I picked conservatively at the image to see how it was attached and if I could neatly unattached it. I started to run through my mental Rolodex of photos, I went back to work and checked my Fotopages to see if I had anything that could pass as funereal.
Not a damn thing. The poor man just lost his wife and I was tying to decide which picture of which tree came off as the most sympathetic. And? I decided that I was making this about me and I needed to stop. I’m going to mail the card as is. Nope, changed my mind. I found a very nice, highly sympathetic picture of some water lilies taken on an over cast day.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
The high heat setting
Saturday, after the Dishwasher drama, I decided it would be a fabulous idea to go wander around in the heat some more, but ya know, on purpose, because that knocks ten, fifteen degrees off the top right away. If you’re wandering around outside in your yard, in the heat, because you’re chasing dishwasher installers of course it’s going to feel like 8000 degrees - its not like you want to be outside... you probably aren’t dressed appropriately and most likely you are not wearing a hat or sunglasses - You are very likely carrying a heavy, automatic weapon and maybe bucket of boiling oil. Chances are, you are not at your cutest.
But, go and wander around someone else's yard, and it’s much more closer to the 4000-6000 degree range, almost springlike. Except this weekend, I wandering around someone else's yard and it was well into the 9000 degree range outside and at that point you aren’t just dealing with heat, you dealing with hostility. I walked around this lovely garden feeling like I was walking around an over heated room with a very low ceiling and no ventilation.
Needless to say, I didn’t take many pictures and what I did take , didn’t turn out very well. It was so hot it gave even the nicest flowers giant pimples and bad hair. I took many of the same shots in years past and they all turned out really nice, this year everything was just off and unphotogenically orange. In other years I also spent more time on picture taking too. I would look at the image and say to myself, Hmmm. How about one from a different angle or from beneath or really close up or from the other direction or how about getting some of those into the background?..., this year I just said to myself, Gawd I’m hot. Is it in focus? Good. Okay, moving on.. (Go here for pictures from Larkspur Party 2008)
I didn’t even buy any art. I did however, find the bird house in my soul and if it wasn’t for the fact that it was huge and likely very expensive and even if they were by chance giving it away, I wouldn’t have been able to get it home, but I lurved it all the same:
I did buy some plants, and not only from the garden party! If you were asking yourself when gardening hubris was going to set in, I can tell you. Garden hubris officially got under way at approximately 2:30 pm on June 7. It was inevitable, after all I have some very bloomy flowers in the front and in the garden I have half grown tomatoes, a few fetal squash and my sweet bell pepper plants are very tall and graceful. This is the most success I’ve ever experienced as a gardener and of course it’s gone to my head!. Having mastered vegetables and flowers, I felt I “needed” a new challenge, something else to benefit from my newly green thumb, on the way back from the garden party, I stopped at a very nice garden center to see what they had to challenge me with. Because I am so awesome and I dedicate ten minutes a day watering and weeding and every once in a while I poison the shit out of all of it and then sometimes I fertilize the shit into all of it. I rock urban farming.
I also need to point out that by this time I’ve been wandering around in the heat for longer than might have been deemed healthy and I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to leave your brain on “simmer” for too long without adding water, so to be honest, I was not entirely in my right mind. And then I saw them...Raspberry Plants! With genuine raspberries all ready on them! We have raspberries in Marquette! I love raspberries! Oh My Gawd! I could have a little bit of Marquette in my yard!. I was dizzy with joy, or heat stroke, whatever.. I needed those plants, it was just a matter of how much they were and how many I could fit into the back of Minnie.
I started to make plans before I even found a garden person to talk to. I was going to go straight to the dirt store and get some more dirt, and then I’m going to dig holes in the front yard behind the tree and then I’m going to fill the holes in with the dirt store dirt or maybe what I should do, is go to Poverty Barn and get some really big pots , because when I think about it, the ground in my front yard has the consistency of concrete reinforced with tree root re-bar... and just plant the plants in pots in a world of only dirt store dirt, because I totally credit the healthy, verdant state of my garden to the wondrous properties of the dirt store dirt. It’s magic and it is all powerful and without it, I am nothing, I am Tom Joad.
I bought two plants. I was dizzy but I wasn’t dumb. I went home and then to the Dirt Store and they were closed! Bastards! I had to buy Wal-Mart dirt! It can’t be as good as the black gold the Dirt store sells! It’s probably made in China! My hopes for a bumper crop were dashed and I felt all of a sudden, like I had been in the sun for too long.
The Plants 6/7/08
Saturday, after the Dishwasher drama, I decided it would be a fabulous idea to go wander around in the heat some more, but ya know, on purpose, because that knocks ten, fifteen degrees off the top right away. If you’re wandering around outside in your yard, in the heat, because you’re chasing dishwasher installers of course it’s going to feel like 8000 degrees - its not like you want to be outside... you probably aren’t dressed appropriately and most likely you are not wearing a hat or sunglasses - You are very likely carrying a heavy, automatic weapon and maybe bucket of boiling oil. Chances are, you are not at your cutest.
But, go and wander around someone else's yard, and it’s much more closer to the 4000-6000 degree range, almost springlike. Except this weekend, I wandering around someone else's yard and it was well into the 9000 degree range outside and at that point you aren’t just dealing with heat, you dealing with hostility. I walked around this lovely garden feeling like I was walking around an over heated room with a very low ceiling and no ventilation.
Needless to say, I didn’t take many pictures and what I did take , didn’t turn out very well. It was so hot it gave even the nicest flowers giant pimples and bad hair. I took many of the same shots in years past and they all turned out really nice, this year everything was just off and unphotogenically orange. In other years I also spent more time on picture taking too. I would look at the image and say to myself, Hmmm. How about one from a different angle or from beneath or really close up or from the other direction or how about getting some of those into the background?..., this year I just said to myself, Gawd I’m hot. Is it in focus? Good. Okay, moving on.. (Go here for pictures from Larkspur Party 2008)
I didn’t even buy any art. I did however, find the bird house in my soul and if it wasn’t for the fact that it was huge and likely very expensive and even if they were by chance giving it away, I wouldn’t have been able to get it home, but I lurved it all the same:
I did buy some plants, and not only from the garden party! If you were asking yourself when gardening hubris was going to set in, I can tell you. Garden hubris officially got under way at approximately 2:30 pm on June 7. It was inevitable, after all I have some very bloomy flowers in the front and in the garden I have half grown tomatoes, a few fetal squash and my sweet bell pepper plants are very tall and graceful. This is the most success I’ve ever experienced as a gardener and of course it’s gone to my head!. Having mastered vegetables and flowers, I felt I “needed” a new challenge, something else to benefit from my newly green thumb, on the way back from the garden party, I stopped at a very nice garden center to see what they had to challenge me with. Because I am so awesome and I dedicate ten minutes a day watering and weeding and every once in a while I poison the shit out of all of it and then sometimes I fertilize the shit into all of it. I rock urban farming.
I also need to point out that by this time I’ve been wandering around in the heat for longer than might have been deemed healthy and I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to leave your brain on “simmer” for too long without adding water, so to be honest, I was not entirely in my right mind. And then I saw them...Raspberry Plants! With genuine raspberries all ready on them! We have raspberries in Marquette! I love raspberries! Oh My Gawd! I could have a little bit of Marquette in my yard!. I was dizzy with joy, or heat stroke, whatever.. I needed those plants, it was just a matter of how much they were and how many I could fit into the back of Minnie.
I started to make plans before I even found a garden person to talk to. I was going to go straight to the dirt store and get some more dirt, and then I’m going to dig holes in the front yard behind the tree and then I’m going to fill the holes in with the dirt store dirt or maybe what I should do, is go to Poverty Barn and get some really big pots , because when I think about it, the ground in my front yard has the consistency of concrete reinforced with tree root re-bar... and just plant the plants in pots in a world of only dirt store dirt, because I totally credit the healthy, verdant state of my garden to the wondrous properties of the dirt store dirt. It’s magic and it is all powerful and without it, I am nothing, I am Tom Joad.
I bought two plants. I was dizzy but I wasn’t dumb. I went home and then to the Dirt Store and they were closed! Bastards! I had to buy Wal-Mart dirt! It can’t be as good as the black gold the Dirt store sells! It’s probably made in China! My hopes for a bumper crop were dashed and I felt all of a sudden, like I had been in the sun for too long.
The Plants 6/7/08
Monday, June 9, 2008
Once upon a time...
Friday afternoon at work I received an automated phone call informing phone call informing me that my new dishwasher would be arriving at some point between 11 am and 3 pm the following day. "Great" I said "It's a good thing I didn't want to get anything else accomplished on Saturday because I have no other plans or anything else to get done! and besides, it's way too hot to do lawn work anyway! Instead I'll wash each piece of laundry individually and then watch them dry! Woo!".
Fortunately, the the miracles of modern technology I did not have to sit around and watch my laundry dry. Instead I spent Saturday morning sitting in front of the TV watching other people get lots of work done around their houses. It was good that I was stuck inside though, I didn't know it yet but it had heated up to about 8000 degrees outside.
Finally, my phone rings and an actual human being informed me my dishwasher was on its way. I quickly tidied up the kitchen and hand washed a couple of plates less the installer guys think I was a poor housekeeper.
They arrived before I even had a chance to lock up Dogger, who was very interested in these men. I herded her into the hallway and closed the door so I could deal with the delivery guys without having to deal with her as well. The Kitty sensed an open door and did a very good job of disguising himself as one of their work boots but was quickly uncovered when they both turned out to work in sneakers.
Animals dealt with it was time to deal with the installers. In my fairy tale version of how this was supposed be done, I had them bringing the washer off the truck, removing the old washer and installing the new washer and we all lived happily ever after. This was obviously a bowderlized version of the real fairy tale that included the old machine first being installed and then moments later re-installed, threats, accusations of murderous intent, venomous orders to remain on the premises and angry calls back and forth to their supervisor by both parties. And most of this took place in the 8000 degree heat of my driveway.
Why was I forced to issue orders? I did not have the breaker thrown to the dishwasher prior to the installers arriving and on my fuse box the dishwasher is not identified by name on a fuse. To find which fuse it is, you have to throw a few until you find it. Obviously, I was trying to kill them. I'm a "requester" by nature. I don't usually order anyone to do anything. My animals have worn me down over the years and I have given up forcing my will onto others. I did at one point have to issue a death threat to a co-worker but he understood that it was just business, and ultimately, I got what I wanted and he got to live.
When I couldn't find the fuse immediately they ascertained I was trying to kill them and they quickly reinstalled my old washer, packed up their toys and reloaded their truck. They told me as I was chasing them down my drive way, that I would have to re-schedule my delivery and they had to go because I was making them late for other deliveries. Which, by the way is bull shit because they don't even call you until a half hour before they arrive and prior to that all you know is which five hour block of time they may be arriving at your door. I told them that they could not leave, period and if they did leave I was not going to buy the dishwasher, pay any kind of restocking fee and under no circumstances would I be buying anything from them again, period and I would make sure that the powers that be top to bottom at Home Depot knew exactly why I was never going to spend another dime with them and who ultimately, the blame lay with.
It was a tense stand off. They got in their truck with my dishwasher and called their boss again while I stomped downstairs to my basement and began to throw switches on the fuse box in earnest. I found the fuse in about 25 seconds and stomped back up the stairs and out to their truck and told them to let me speak with their supervisor right now. We spoke, then they spoke, and then they got out of their truck and installed my new dishwasher. Damn it.
And they lived happily ever after!
The End.
Friday afternoon at work I received an automated phone call informing phone call informing me that my new dishwasher would be arriving at some point between 11 am and 3 pm the following day. "Great" I said "It's a good thing I didn't want to get anything else accomplished on Saturday because I have no other plans or anything else to get done! and besides, it's way too hot to do lawn work anyway! Instead I'll wash each piece of laundry individually and then watch them dry! Woo!".
Fortunately, the the miracles of modern technology I did not have to sit around and watch my laundry dry. Instead I spent Saturday morning sitting in front of the TV watching other people get lots of work done around their houses. It was good that I was stuck inside though, I didn't know it yet but it had heated up to about 8000 degrees outside.
Finally, my phone rings and an actual human being informed me my dishwasher was on its way. I quickly tidied up the kitchen and hand washed a couple of plates less the installer guys think I was a poor housekeeper.
They arrived before I even had a chance to lock up Dogger, who was very interested in these men. I herded her into the hallway and closed the door so I could deal with the delivery guys without having to deal with her as well. The Kitty sensed an open door and did a very good job of disguising himself as one of their work boots but was quickly uncovered when they both turned out to work in sneakers.
Animals dealt with it was time to deal with the installers. In my fairy tale version of how this was supposed be done, I had them bringing the washer off the truck, removing the old washer and installing the new washer and we all lived happily ever after. This was obviously a bowderlized version of the real fairy tale that included the old machine first being installed and then moments later re-installed, threats, accusations of murderous intent, venomous orders to remain on the premises and angry calls back and forth to their supervisor by both parties. And most of this took place in the 8000 degree heat of my driveway.
Why was I forced to issue orders? I did not have the breaker thrown to the dishwasher prior to the installers arriving and on my fuse box the dishwasher is not identified by name on a fuse. To find which fuse it is, you have to throw a few until you find it. Obviously, I was trying to kill them. I'm a "requester" by nature. I don't usually order anyone to do anything. My animals have worn me down over the years and I have given up forcing my will onto others. I did at one point have to issue a death threat to a co-worker but he understood that it was just business, and ultimately, I got what I wanted and he got to live.
When I couldn't find the fuse immediately they ascertained I was trying to kill them and they quickly reinstalled my old washer, packed up their toys and reloaded their truck. They told me as I was chasing them down my drive way, that I would have to re-schedule my delivery and they had to go because I was making them late for other deliveries. Which, by the way is bull shit because they don't even call you until a half hour before they arrive and prior to that all you know is which five hour block of time they may be arriving at your door. I told them that they could not leave, period and if they did leave I was not going to buy the dishwasher, pay any kind of restocking fee and under no circumstances would I be buying anything from them again, period and I would make sure that the powers that be top to bottom at Home Depot knew exactly why I was never going to spend another dime with them and who ultimately, the blame lay with.
It was a tense stand off. They got in their truck with my dishwasher and called their boss again while I stomped downstairs to my basement and began to throw switches on the fuse box in earnest. I found the fuse in about 25 seconds and stomped back up the stairs and out to their truck and told them to let me speak with their supervisor right now. We spoke, then they spoke, and then they got out of their truck and installed my new dishwasher. Damn it.
And they lived happily ever after!
The End.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Friday, June 6, 2008
Not your "average" feral cat
The average life span of a Feral cat is less than two years on their own. If they are lucky, enough to be in a colony that has a caretaker to feed them and see that they are spayed or neutered, the life span may reach five years. Very few live longer. It's a tough life out on the streets.
About. com
Smokey the feral cat died yesterday of cancer. It was time for his rabies shot and his new caretakers suspected he was losing weight and thought there might have something wrong with his mouth. It was hard to tell because he didn't let many people get close to him but they all noticed a lot of saliva all of a sudden. When they finally got him in a crate and taken to the human society the vet there found a sizable tumor in his jaw and noted that it had all ready broken one of his teeth and was interfering with his ability to eat as well as causing him pain. The vet suggested that he be put to sleep and he was. Smokey was twelve years old.
And then the vet told Smokey's friends that Smokey was a girl all along.
We should have known. Smokey was delicate and small boned and the few times he meowed over the years the sound was high pitched and girly. We thought he had a feline speech defect.
I went to see what I had said about him over the years, as he was a big part of my working life for a long time. Feeding Smokey was my job and my job alone for years, rain or shine, day in and day out and I almost never mentioned him. When I pretty much hated everything about my job, I liked feeding Smokey. I drove into the lot and he ran out to greet me every morning. I went into the building, unlocked my office door, scooped up some cat food and went back outside and walked across the parking lot with smokey shadowing my steps. I would fill his bowl, walk back across the lot and start my day. I could have gotten there from inside the building but that required me to walk past my hated boss' office and I avoided that. Walking in the pouring rain and freezing cold was preferable.
Gradually, over the years Smokey grew a fan club and they annoyed me. They didn't hand out cat snacks when it was pouring rain but his bowl had to be filled rain or shine. But it was all right, whether he liked it or not, Smokey needed all the friends he could get.
Here is what I said about Smokey over the years:
May 2003, in the beginning
October 2005
March 2006, with Smokey photo-blogging!
June 2006
July 6, 2007
July 12, 2007
August 2007
I hadn't seen him in a year and now I won't see him again.
The average life span of a Feral cat is less than two years on their own. If they are lucky, enough to be in a colony that has a caretaker to feed them and see that they are spayed or neutered, the life span may reach five years. Very few live longer. It's a tough life out on the streets.
About. com
Smokey the feral cat died yesterday of cancer. It was time for his rabies shot and his new caretakers suspected he was losing weight and thought there might have something wrong with his mouth. It was hard to tell because he didn't let many people get close to him but they all noticed a lot of saliva all of a sudden. When they finally got him in a crate and taken to the human society the vet there found a sizable tumor in his jaw and noted that it had all ready broken one of his teeth and was interfering with his ability to eat as well as causing him pain. The vet suggested that he be put to sleep and he was. Smokey was twelve years old.
And then the vet told Smokey's friends that Smokey was a girl all along.
We should have known. Smokey was delicate and small boned and the few times he meowed over the years the sound was high pitched and girly. We thought he had a feline speech defect.
I went to see what I had said about him over the years, as he was a big part of my working life for a long time. Feeding Smokey was my job and my job alone for years, rain or shine, day in and day out and I almost never mentioned him. When I pretty much hated everything about my job, I liked feeding Smokey. I drove into the lot and he ran out to greet me every morning. I went into the building, unlocked my office door, scooped up some cat food and went back outside and walked across the parking lot with smokey shadowing my steps. I would fill his bowl, walk back across the lot and start my day. I could have gotten there from inside the building but that required me to walk past my hated boss' office and I avoided that. Walking in the pouring rain and freezing cold was preferable.
Gradually, over the years Smokey grew a fan club and they annoyed me. They didn't hand out cat snacks when it was pouring rain but his bowl had to be filled rain or shine. But it was all right, whether he liked it or not, Smokey needed all the friends he could get.
Here is what I said about Smokey over the years:
May 2003, in the beginning
October 2005
March 2006, with Smokey photo-blogging!
June 2006
July 6, 2007
July 12, 2007
August 2007
I hadn't seen him in a year and now I won't see him again.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
TV
Well, that was disappointing. I got comfortable in front of the TV and got all ready to camp out there and bask in my air-conditioning while I watched the last bit of this BBC mystery drama that I have been netflixing. I put CD number 5 into the machine and sat back to watch my little British people do a circa 1997 version of CSI London, but with cursing and male nakedness and exposed breasts,but without gore or blood or on screen violence - And the plonky title music started and the nighttime view of London started running and I fast forwarded because I’m over watching the credits and then the action started and...
Who are these people?!
The supporting cast was in place but the two leads AKA Why I watch, were nowhere to be seen. A bit of boozy exposition from the remaining cast revealed that “They had gone to California” and that the lead had been “head hunted to start up a path lab in LA”. What does he know from wounds from automatic weapons? He’s never even seen a gun shot victim. Poisonings? Sure! Previously unknown infectious disease? He owns disease-of-the-week! Garrotings? He’s all over it! Gah. The shows speciality is unmarked dead people, with the plot every week being how did this healthy appearing dead woman get that way.- It’s almost always a dead woman, thus the weekly exposed breasts.
I can’t even finish watching! When I put it on my list I saw a review that mentioned the “unlikable imitations of the characters”... I read that as the characters had changed between the fourth series and the fifth because at the end of the fourth the two leads hooked up and there are fans that hate to see TV characters happy. The character was miserable for four years, she should stay that way or if the character was a out-of-control philanderer, then he must keep right on philandering, damn it.
But I am an experienced TV watcher, shite like that rolls right off me. If the script says the miserable get to be happy and the man whore settles down? Then so be it, it’s called character development and it is a good thing. But I prefer that my well developed characters don’t get so over developed that they turn into totally different characters played by different actors.
I was going to end this with a screed about Hilary Clinton being a selfish cow and refusing to get off the cross or since I was talking about the performing arts, to use the vernacular, refusing to get the fuck off the stage... And then I checked my email
Sen. Hillary Clinton will officially end her campaign for the presidency by the end of the week, multiple sources tell CNN.
The hell? I was the last damn person in America to learn this! You would have thought that while I was wandering aimlessly around Poverty Barn, marveling at the $270 Brohill floor lamps (absolutely gorgeous lamps, if they had been more like $45 I would have taken one home, but they don't really want to sell me a lamp, they just have them there to make me feel bad that I can't even afford to buy a lamp at Poverty Barn. Misogynistic bastard's) that somebody would have said something, or that on the ride home that the radio might have mentioned it. I need to just set all the presets to NPR and leave the top 40 stuff behind. I’m too old for that shit anyway..But wait, I was listening to NPR and they weren’t talking about it, they were interviewing some guy about Bobby Kennedy choosing not to run against LBJ and how the guy they were interviewing wrote RFK a letter to bitch at him about it... So, Hmm. Maybe I can still listen to the latest in pop pap! Maybe radio in Raleigh in general just sucks for news delivery.
But you know what this means, I can go ahead and order my Obama 08 car magnet! I can finally retire my Kerry magnet and move on. I’ve been in mourning for four long years, maybe this way I can start the healing process... Yes, I do chose to see getting a new car magnet for my car as a balm for my pathologically hurt feelings. On election night 2004, I spent the night sobbing in my dogs crate, cut me some slack. If I burst into tears this election night, I pray to God that they are tears of joy.
Oh, and I don’t want Hilary for VP.
Well, that was disappointing. I got comfortable in front of the TV and got all ready to camp out there and bask in my air-conditioning while I watched the last bit of this BBC mystery drama that I have been netflixing. I put CD number 5 into the machine and sat back to watch my little British people do a circa 1997 version of CSI London, but with cursing and male nakedness and exposed breasts,but without gore or blood or on screen violence - And the plonky title music started and the nighttime view of London started running and I fast forwarded because I’m over watching the credits and then the action started and...
Who are these people?!
The supporting cast was in place but the two leads AKA Why I watch, were nowhere to be seen. A bit of boozy exposition from the remaining cast revealed that “They had gone to California” and that the lead had been “head hunted to start up a path lab in LA”. What does he know from wounds from automatic weapons? He’s never even seen a gun shot victim. Poisonings? Sure! Previously unknown infectious disease? He owns disease-of-the-week! Garrotings? He’s all over it! Gah. The shows speciality is unmarked dead people, with the plot every week being how did this healthy appearing dead woman get that way.- It’s almost always a dead woman, thus the weekly exposed breasts.
I can’t even finish watching! When I put it on my list I saw a review that mentioned the “unlikable imitations of the characters”... I read that as the characters had changed between the fourth series and the fifth because at the end of the fourth the two leads hooked up and there are fans that hate to see TV characters happy. The character was miserable for four years, she should stay that way or if the character was a out-of-control philanderer, then he must keep right on philandering, damn it.
But I am an experienced TV watcher, shite like that rolls right off me. If the script says the miserable get to be happy and the man whore settles down? Then so be it, it’s called character development and it is a good thing. But I prefer that my well developed characters don’t get so over developed that they turn into totally different characters played by different actors.
I was going to end this with a screed about Hilary Clinton being a selfish cow and refusing to get off the cross or since I was talking about the performing arts, to use the vernacular, refusing to get the fuck off the stage... And then I checked my email
Sen. Hillary Clinton will officially end her campaign for the presidency by the end of the week, multiple sources tell CNN.
The hell? I was the last damn person in America to learn this! You would have thought that while I was wandering aimlessly around Poverty Barn, marveling at the $270 Brohill floor lamps (absolutely gorgeous lamps, if they had been more like $45 I would have taken one home, but they don't really want to sell me a lamp, they just have them there to make me feel bad that I can't even afford to buy a lamp at Poverty Barn. Misogynistic bastard's) that somebody would have said something, or that on the ride home that the radio might have mentioned it. I need to just set all the presets to NPR and leave the top 40 stuff behind. I’m too old for that shit anyway..But wait, I was listening to NPR and they weren’t talking about it, they were interviewing some guy about Bobby Kennedy choosing not to run against LBJ and how the guy they were interviewing wrote RFK a letter to bitch at him about it... So, Hmm. Maybe I can still listen to the latest in pop pap! Maybe radio in Raleigh in general just sucks for news delivery.
But you know what this means, I can go ahead and order my Obama 08 car magnet! I can finally retire my Kerry magnet and move on. I’ve been in mourning for four long years, maybe this way I can start the healing process... Yes, I do chose to see getting a new car magnet for my car as a balm for my pathologically hurt feelings. On election night 2004, I spent the night sobbing in my dogs crate, cut me some slack. If I burst into tears this election night, I pray to God that they are tears of joy.
Oh, and I don’t want Hilary for VP.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Don’t trust anyone under 30
I was reading the paper this morning and read this Gen Y, spoiled and loving it! It’s a piece about how Gen Y are buying their first homes very young and what Yers want in these homes.
Gen Yer : No. I want a smaller space so it's easier to take off and go. A house that's low-maintenance is good. Generation Y traveled a lot in college and will continue to do so through life. So a big yard isn't a plus, either. All of ya’ll? A whole generation? All of ya’ll “traveled a lot in college? All of ya’ll went to college? The whole damn generation? Wow.
Gen Yer 2: No. I think that seeing so many of our generation's parents divorce makes us understand that family togetherness is important. So as we start having kids you will see us avoid homes with a living room, family room and finished basement rec room in favor of open-plan homes where the family can share space. Because ready access to privacy and personal space are totally why your parents got divorced.
Gen Yer 3: We want more and more change. My 60-something aunt wants to live in a Monticello-esque house because she makes a link to the noble founding of our country. My generation learned about Jefferson as the guy who had a bunch of illegitimate children with his slaves. We don't want to live in his house.. Sigh. When the PC home school. Yeah, a brick house is totally exploitive and wrong. I think I heard that chant at a march once, “No! Peace! No! Ionic! columns! Power to the People! Loft Conversions for All!
GenYer 4 : In the next 20 years a big backyard is going to move from asset to liability. Mention "acreage" and a 50-something hears "peaceful place away from the pressures of the city," while a 20-something hears "isolated maintenance nightmare." Laziness! I guess Gen Yers are living shoulder to shoulder to shoulder with their neighbors in homes with no person space to speak of, they'll just have settle for pocket pets and later, pocket kids.
Gen Y- The tooly-ist tools to ever tool.
To honor My Gen X superiority, I bought Washarama on CD today, good thing too, my fifteen year old audio tape was getting a fried from use, Itunes loss is their music publishers gain. Sucky Itunes! They call them selves a music source and they don’t have Don’t Be a Hippie for download? Who knew The Judy’s were a Texas band? I thought they played San Marcos all the time because they liked Southwest Texas State students. I didn’t have any idea they were from Austin. I should have known though, a band from outside Texas wouldn’t even known there was a San Marcos.
Have you been wondering how my garden has been going? Well, so far there are a lot of flowers, flowers that may be pre-eggplants and some flowers that feature a little swelling on the stem that I am choosing to see as the start of baby squash and not as possible bug infestation ... but not a lot of actual vegetables. If you want to see if this whole missing bee thing is real? Plant something and wait, there ain’t no bees, well, except for the ones who came and kissed my tomatoes. My tomatoes are doing very well. In fact one of them is a tree. I planted a tomato tree.
April 20
June 1
I was reading the paper this morning and read this Gen Y, spoiled and loving it! It’s a piece about how Gen Y are buying their first homes very young and what Yers want in these homes.
Gen Yer : No. I want a smaller space so it's easier to take off and go. A house that's low-maintenance is good. Generation Y traveled a lot in college and will continue to do so through life. So a big yard isn't a plus, either. All of ya’ll? A whole generation? All of ya’ll “traveled a lot in college? All of ya’ll went to college? The whole damn generation? Wow.
Gen Yer 2: No. I think that seeing so many of our generation's parents divorce makes us understand that family togetherness is important. So as we start having kids you will see us avoid homes with a living room, family room and finished basement rec room in favor of open-plan homes where the family can share space. Because ready access to privacy and personal space are totally why your parents got divorced.
Gen Yer 3: We want more and more change. My 60-something aunt wants to live in a Monticello-esque house because she makes a link to the noble founding of our country. My generation learned about Jefferson as the guy who had a bunch of illegitimate children with his slaves. We don't want to live in his house.. Sigh. When the PC home school. Yeah, a brick house is totally exploitive and wrong. I think I heard that chant at a march once, “No! Peace! No! Ionic! columns! Power to the People! Loft Conversions for All!
GenYer 4 : In the next 20 years a big backyard is going to move from asset to liability. Mention "acreage" and a 50-something hears "peaceful place away from the pressures of the city," while a 20-something hears "isolated maintenance nightmare." Laziness! I guess Gen Yers are living shoulder to shoulder to shoulder with their neighbors in homes with no person space to speak of, they'll just have settle for pocket pets and later, pocket kids.
Gen Y- The tooly-ist tools to ever tool.
To honor My Gen X superiority, I bought Washarama on CD today, good thing too, my fifteen year old audio tape was getting a fried from use, Itunes loss is their music publishers gain. Sucky Itunes! They call them selves a music source and they don’t have Don’t Be a Hippie for download? Who knew The Judy’s were a Texas band? I thought they played San Marcos all the time because they liked Southwest Texas State students. I didn’t have any idea they were from Austin. I should have known though, a band from outside Texas wouldn’t even known there was a San Marcos.
Have you been wondering how my garden has been going? Well, so far there are a lot of flowers, flowers that may be pre-eggplants and some flowers that feature a little swelling on the stem that I am choosing to see as the start of baby squash and not as possible bug infestation ... but not a lot of actual vegetables. If you want to see if this whole missing bee thing is real? Plant something and wait, there ain’t no bees, well, except for the ones who came and kissed my tomatoes. My tomatoes are doing very well. In fact one of them is a tree. I planted a tomato tree.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Insert Title Here
I wanted to be a good guy and be nice to the pets so I turned the a/c on - And I faith that when I told the a/c to turn on that it did... When I turned on the a/c I also pulled the blinds and closed the drapes and I did all this in the early evening, and it did magically become cooler inside, so it’s not entirely naive of me to be under the impression my air conditioner was functioning, It got cool and there was air coming from the vents. I know now of course, that there is a living thing in my vents and I was feeling its breath... it’s probably the worlds largest cockroach. It doesn’t matter, I called my a/c man and he’s going to be here tomorrow to slay the mighty cockroach beast or replace some widget. Six of one, half a dozen of the other. When I come home from work it will to a home with a working a/c.
The animals, have been real troopers. The Kitty for his part doesn’t seem terribly bothered by heat, he would sleep in a hot oven as long as the oven light didn’t get in his eyes too much. The Kitty could live on the sun and be happy. Dogger on the other hand would be happy in a world where it was always February. Dogger would live on Neptune and be happy about it.
Sunday night I took pity on Dogger and sprung her from what had morphed into the surface of the sun and let her sleep with me and The Kitty and the Worlds Greatest Window Unit upstairs on Neptune, the WGWU is ancient and yet it works like a charm. I think someday I’m going to find out that it is illegally importing Freon from Mexico and it goes out at night and eats spotted owls and protected salamanders - but really, I don’t care why it works, I’m just glad it does.
I made two calls this morning, the first to the a/c man and the second to the vet. Dogger did a weird thing MOnday morning and it had me worried, I went to do my daily head count before I left for work and this time I couldn’t find Dogger.
Because Dogger was under the bed. Dogger is huge and lately, she’s wide, not only is she wide, she is verging on the fat. I can’t fit under that bed under the best of circumstances, not to mention that I "store" a lot of stuff under that bed. Before she got under there, she had to excavate it first.
And then she wouldn’t come out. I pulled, I tugged, I begged, I bribed. I was crouched by the bed thinking - How am I going to get her out from under there? What if she can’t get out? I can’t lift this bed. Am I going to have to just leave her here and hope she can get out on her own? Should I call Broskey and have him come over at lunch? . This was a real problem.
After I finally got her out and back upstairs to Neptune, I called the vet.
The vet checked her over, studied her electrolytes and announced that she’s fine. She’s weird, but she’s fine.
I wanted to be a good guy and be nice to the pets so I turned the a/c on - And I faith that when I told the a/c to turn on that it did... When I turned on the a/c I also pulled the blinds and closed the drapes and I did all this in the early evening, and it did magically become cooler inside, so it’s not entirely naive of me to be under the impression my air conditioner was functioning, It got cool and there was air coming from the vents. I know now of course, that there is a living thing in my vents and I was feeling its breath... it’s probably the worlds largest cockroach. It doesn’t matter, I called my a/c man and he’s going to be here tomorrow to slay the mighty cockroach beast or replace some widget. Six of one, half a dozen of the other. When I come home from work it will to a home with a working a/c.
The animals, have been real troopers. The Kitty for his part doesn’t seem terribly bothered by heat, he would sleep in a hot oven as long as the oven light didn’t get in his eyes too much. The Kitty could live on the sun and be happy. Dogger on the other hand would be happy in a world where it was always February. Dogger would live on Neptune and be happy about it.
Sunday night I took pity on Dogger and sprung her from what had morphed into the surface of the sun and let her sleep with me and The Kitty and the Worlds Greatest Window Unit upstairs on Neptune, the WGWU is ancient and yet it works like a charm. I think someday I’m going to find out that it is illegally importing Freon from Mexico and it goes out at night and eats spotted owls and protected salamanders - but really, I don’t care why it works, I’m just glad it does.
I made two calls this morning, the first to the a/c man and the second to the vet. Dogger did a weird thing MOnday morning and it had me worried, I went to do my daily head count before I left for work and this time I couldn’t find Dogger.
Because Dogger was under the bed. Dogger is huge and lately, she’s wide, not only is she wide, she is verging on the fat. I can’t fit under that bed under the best of circumstances, not to mention that I "store" a lot of stuff under that bed. Before she got under there, she had to excavate it first.
And then she wouldn’t come out. I pulled, I tugged, I begged, I bribed. I was crouched by the bed thinking - How am I going to get her out from under there? What if she can’t get out? I can’t lift this bed. Am I going to have to just leave her here and hope she can get out on her own? Should I call Broskey and have him come over at lunch? . This was a real problem.
After I finally got her out and back upstairs to Neptune, I called the vet.
The vet checked her over, studied her electrolytes and announced that she’s fine. She’s weird, but she’s fine.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Hot time, summer in the city
It’s hot. We’ve struck summer. It was spring and it’s now Summer. For real. June 1, summer landed. I turned my air conditioner on, I’ve given in and up. I turn myself over to the Gawds of summer. I want my jumbo box of Popsicles and I want it now, bring on the mindless summer block busters the pop music paeans to teen lurve. I accept it, I’m ready, I have my tank top on and I know where my bathing suit is.
This year the little animals didn’t bother petitioning for the a/c to go on, instead they did their best to become 2D. Sad, hot, flat, little animals.
Dogger casually mentioned that AD dogs don’t deal with heat very well and can have pant, pant problems with over heating but ya know pant, pant, it all goes back to those pesky electrolytes pant, pant and I can pant, pant turn that a/c on whenever I feel like it pant, pant since I, the human can sweat, not that she or The Kitty hold that against me, at all. Pant, pant. Have you ever seen a cat pant?
Now that it’s summer I can stop feeling like I need to get that lawn mowed right after church because by the time I get home, change clothes and get the mower out? Its noon and if you mow your lawn at noon over the summer, you mow by yourself because everyone else is inside. And if you are going to insist on being self righteous and using a push mower to mow your lawn at noon - Your teeny little yawn is going to morph into The King ranch. Last week? I mowed the same tiny patch which was then about the size of a regulation checker board in fifteen minutes, this week? An hour and a half and the size of the King Ranch. The self righteousness, it burns as it drips into your eyes and down your shirt and soaks your socks.
So now I am concentrating on inside chores. Laundry, teaching Dogger how to use a standard toilet, inservicesing The Kitty on how to navigate curtains and blinds since the drapes aren’t going to be open again until October - No natural light is welcome in my house until it can come in and offer warmth instead of heat.
Friday, before it was summer, I was driving to Home Depot, listening to the radio. The radio was saying that we’re all saving our money and putting off big purchases and in general pulling our belts tighter and doing without. I sat there and thought, Well, everyone but me!. I was on my way to buy my new dishwasher. I am alone propping up the economy, I think I deserve an ambassadorship to somewhere nice for my dedication to ‘Merica because despite the fact that I don’t need a new dishwasher, the old dishwasher still works, inefficiently and at great cost and waste of water - But it still works and someone else paid for it, once upon a time, about twenty years ago , I am buying a new one because I want a new one.
I had told myself way before Shrub sent out the bribe money, that if I ever did have some money fall on my head that I would replace the dishwasher with a new, more energy efficient model because like the new clothes washer, it is about being greener and using less. But still, it’s a lot of cash to drop in one place, especially while everyone else according to NPR, is planting gardens and doing their own sewing, churning butter and forcing the retail industry to barter with them.
And even more summer fun? It is officially the first week of Hurricane Season and we all ready know that they sea is angry, let us all hope that Myanmar was not just a aperitif.
It’s hot. We’ve struck summer. It was spring and it’s now Summer. For real. June 1, summer landed. I turned my air conditioner on, I’ve given in and up. I turn myself over to the Gawds of summer. I want my jumbo box of Popsicles and I want it now, bring on the mindless summer block busters the pop music paeans to teen lurve. I accept it, I’m ready, I have my tank top on and I know where my bathing suit is.
This year the little animals didn’t bother petitioning for the a/c to go on, instead they did their best to become 2D. Sad, hot, flat, little animals.
Dogger casually mentioned that AD dogs don’t deal with heat very well and can have pant, pant problems with over heating but ya know pant, pant, it all goes back to those pesky electrolytes pant, pant and I can pant, pant turn that a/c on whenever I feel like it pant, pant since I, the human can sweat, not that she or The Kitty hold that against me, at all. Pant, pant. Have you ever seen a cat pant?
Now that it’s summer I can stop feeling like I need to get that lawn mowed right after church because by the time I get home, change clothes and get the mower out? Its noon and if you mow your lawn at noon over the summer, you mow by yourself because everyone else is inside. And if you are going to insist on being self righteous and using a push mower to mow your lawn at noon - Your teeny little yawn is going to morph into The King ranch. Last week? I mowed the same tiny patch which was then about the size of a regulation checker board in fifteen minutes, this week? An hour and a half and the size of the King Ranch. The self righteousness, it burns as it drips into your eyes and down your shirt and soaks your socks.
So now I am concentrating on inside chores. Laundry, teaching Dogger how to use a standard toilet, inservicesing The Kitty on how to navigate curtains and blinds since the drapes aren’t going to be open again until October - No natural light is welcome in my house until it can come in and offer warmth instead of heat.
Friday, before it was summer, I was driving to Home Depot, listening to the radio. The radio was saying that we’re all saving our money and putting off big purchases and in general pulling our belts tighter and doing without. I sat there and thought, Well, everyone but me!. I was on my way to buy my new dishwasher. I am alone propping up the economy, I think I deserve an ambassadorship to somewhere nice for my dedication to ‘Merica because despite the fact that I don’t need a new dishwasher, the old dishwasher still works, inefficiently and at great cost and waste of water - But it still works and someone else paid for it, once upon a time, about twenty years ago , I am buying a new one because I want a new one.
I had told myself way before Shrub sent out the bribe money, that if I ever did have some money fall on my head that I would replace the dishwasher with a new, more energy efficient model because like the new clothes washer, it is about being greener and using less. But still, it’s a lot of cash to drop in one place, especially while everyone else according to NPR, is planting gardens and doing their own sewing, churning butter and forcing the retail industry to barter with them.
And even more summer fun? It is officially the first week of Hurricane Season and we all ready know that they sea is angry, let us all hope that Myanmar was not just a aperitif.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
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