At approximately 6:45 this evening, I was perusing my favorite message board, preparatory to answering the question, "What exactly IS a cucumber sandwich?" when, with alarums and excursions, I lost the interwebbienet, the computer, the A/C, the water pump and the washer and dryer.
In short, the power went out.
As I live directly across the street from the substation, I knew I didn't need to call and complain--I'm always among the first to have power after a one of Cuyahoga Falls' rare outages. I whiled away the time yakking on the phone to Mallie and ABG. One of the things that struck me was how the three of us could have a perfectly reasonable discussion about inheritance taxes when the 5 page thread on that subject on the AH has become a SRCOC* thread for me.
Fortunately, just before the power went off, the temperature dropped and there was a bit of a breeze, so while I got sweaty, it wasn't the total drenchedness it would have been had I been outside when it was 87ºF. I am pretty dependent on electricity, not just for the computer, but because my well pump is electric. Fortunately, I've got two pre-Prohibition 3.5 gallon toilets and usually between one and four five-gallon bottles of water in the house. It probably wouldn't hurt to fill one of the empties with tap water, though, and dump it on a regular basis...
At any rate, the power came back on at 8:25, and thank dog for battery-operated clocks and my cell phone, as I had to run around re-setting clocks. The VCR gets to blink until I have a chance to sit down and change it, but it's all the way in the living room, so who cares? *grin*
*SRCOC: Sacred Rubber Chicken of Chastisement, which I use to whack people who swear they are going to stay out of particular threads or types of threads and then violate their promises to themselves. I shall use it on myself if I go back in that thread. *serious nod*
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Greetings from Lazyville
Last night, I got seduced into a long, luxurious late-night chat with a new friend, and wound up going to bed after two. It's difficult to tear yourself away from a cute guy who cooks, likes the same music & movies you do, and thinks your writing is phenomenal. *blush* Eventually, I did shamble off to bed, and then woke at 7:30 to let the dogs out. As soon as they were relieved and fed, I went back to bed, and slept until 1:37. I'm so bonelessly relaxed right now I can't even find it in me to feel guilty about that. I'm just going to chalk it up to a week full of short nights, enjoy my morning coffee in the afternoon, and probably get dressed around 3:00.
Speaking of coffee, I wonder if I give off a "pink person" vibe without even knowing it. I have only two pink items in my warddrobe, and none in my home décor, but people still know to give me pink things. For my birthday, I got lovely pink bath stuff and two pink coffee mugs. The one from our law clerk is white with pink roses, in a tapered shape with a silvered rim, and the one from Sherri is pink with a white cartoon panel on the front, where a weird little being says, "I know I live in my own world. It's okay, they know me there." That one holds two full cups of coffee, and being that it's capacious, cute, and reminds me that I am lurved, it is reserved for Monday mornings, always the low point of my week.
Yet one more thought about laziness--I am a completely lazy scribbler, which is why I do not edit my "works." I do not think about interesting exposition, or character research or plot vs. characterizations, I just sit down and scribble out whatever's in my head, spell-check it and call it done. If a story takes me an entire day, I tend to feel over-worked. So it is really unusual for me to go back and re-write a story, but since both Mallie and S-Des, whose opinions I respect, told me that the ending to my most recent story needs work, I shall actually, ugh, work on it. Not today, though. Today is reserved for laziness.
Speaking of coffee, I wonder if I give off a "pink person" vibe without even knowing it. I have only two pink items in my warddrobe, and none in my home décor, but people still know to give me pink things. For my birthday, I got lovely pink bath stuff and two pink coffee mugs. The one from our law clerk is white with pink roses, in a tapered shape with a silvered rim, and the one from Sherri is pink with a white cartoon panel on the front, where a weird little being says, "I know I live in my own world. It's okay, they know me there." That one holds two full cups of coffee, and being that it's capacious, cute, and reminds me that I am lurved, it is reserved for Monday mornings, always the low point of my week.
Yet one more thought about laziness--I am a completely lazy scribbler, which is why I do not edit my "works." I do not think about interesting exposition, or character research or plot vs. characterizations, I just sit down and scribble out whatever's in my head, spell-check it and call it done. If a story takes me an entire day, I tend to feel over-worked. So it is really unusual for me to go back and re-write a story, but since both Mallie and S-Des, whose opinions I respect, told me that the ending to my most recent story needs work, I shall actually, ugh, work on it. Not today, though. Today is reserved for laziness.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Beauty on the wing
So the deer chomp gladiolus, the bunnies eat the lamium, Rooter snarfles up apples and veggies and the squirrels raid the birdfeeders and scatter seed. Every now and then, I get a chance to see something that stops me dead in my tracks, makes ever nerve in my body sing with delight, and reminds me that THIS is why I garden.
This little beauty was hanging on in the wind, which is why the last two pictures are fuzzier than I like.
That just absolutely made my night!
This little beauty was hanging on in the wind, which is why the last two pictures are fuzzier than I like.
That just absolutely made my night!
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Further snobservations
To the woman ahead of me at the drive-through: If you don't know what the name of the iced tea you like is, do what everyone else does and park your car, walk into the store, and stand in front of the cooler like an idiot. Please do not make the young man bring bottle after bottle to your car to present to you. It is 87 degrees, we are in an un-air-conditioned semi-enclosed space full of car fumes and he is a minimum-wage store clerk, not a sommelier.
To the man behind me at the drive-through: Dude, you can fluff your hair all you like. You can look in the rear view mirror with your sunglasses on and with your sunglasses off. Nothing is going to change the fact that you look like Prince Charles crossed with the banjo-playing albino kid from "Deliverance." Deal.
To the couple gathering plants at the side of the road: You two look like an ad for Alzheimer's awareness, what with her giant sun hat, bent back and ankle-length red dress and him with NO shirt, NO shoes, and what I am hoping was a pair of gym shorts and not, as it appeared, boxers. Ya'll scared me to the point where I wanted to stop and grill you to see if you knew where you lived and what you were doing.
To our law clerk: It is irritating enough that you have earned yourself the nickname "Snoopy" at work. It's not that we think you're a lovable beagle, it's that we think you are nosy. Did you really have to stop at my house just because you saw me taking the compost out? I hope that you weren't TOO insulted when despite all the hints, I didn't invite you in for a tour and/or to meet the dogs. When I am home, wearing my off-duty outfit of shorts & t-shirt without underwear, I am not prepared for guests. I am NEVER prepared for the kind of guests who pick things up, ask what they are, ask what windows I have open on my computer, ask what I'm eating for lunch and so on until I feel an overwhelming need to throttle you. You will never know how thrilled I was to see you leave.
And finally, to my father: I do love you. If I didn't, I wouldn't have sung Happy Birthday to you over the phone yesterday. But I'm middle-aged, Dad--it wasn't "so cute you had to put me on speakerphone" while you were at the register! I'm fairly sure that performance art is not a staple at most hardware stores.
To the man behind me at the drive-through: Dude, you can fluff your hair all you like. You can look in the rear view mirror with your sunglasses on and with your sunglasses off. Nothing is going to change the fact that you look like Prince Charles crossed with the banjo-playing albino kid from "Deliverance." Deal.
To the couple gathering plants at the side of the road: You two look like an ad for Alzheimer's awareness, what with her giant sun hat, bent back and ankle-length red dress and him with NO shirt, NO shoes, and what I am hoping was a pair of gym shorts and not, as it appeared, boxers. Ya'll scared me to the point where I wanted to stop and grill you to see if you knew where you lived and what you were doing.
To our law clerk: It is irritating enough that you have earned yourself the nickname "Snoopy" at work. It's not that we think you're a lovable beagle, it's that we think you are nosy. Did you really have to stop at my house just because you saw me taking the compost out? I hope that you weren't TOO insulted when despite all the hints, I didn't invite you in for a tour and/or to meet the dogs. When I am home, wearing my off-duty outfit of shorts & t-shirt without underwear, I am not prepared for guests. I am NEVER prepared for the kind of guests who pick things up, ask what they are, ask what windows I have open on my computer, ask what I'm eating for lunch and so on until I feel an overwhelming need to throttle you. You will never know how thrilled I was to see you leave.
And finally, to my father: I do love you. If I didn't, I wouldn't have sung Happy Birthday to you over the phone yesterday. But I'm middle-aged, Dad--it wasn't "so cute you had to put me on speakerphone" while you were at the register! I'm fairly sure that performance art is not a staple at most hardware stores.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
"What the World Needs Now"
Is socks, more socks...
Or perhaps,
"Some people wanna fill the world with silly sock stories
What's wrong with that? I'd like to know,
'cause here I go agaaaaaaaaaaain."
22 yes votes, 2 maybes and 2 who cares when I polled the AH regarding my latest venture into sockrotica. I went ahead and wrote it, since it was rattling around in the empty real estate laughingly known as my brain. Because the Heather wrote the second line of the story, there is a character named after her. And because the Sherri is so cuddly-cute, there is one named after her as well. I've not yet met the sock strong enough to be named after Snicker, but I'm keeping my eyes open.
This is sock horror, the longest, darkest sock story yet. I am saving it for the Halloween contest (I can post it for the contest on October 1st). Right now, it's sitting on my hard drive, blandly named "HalloweenSockStory." Current contenders for the name are:
"Live and Let Dye"
"Sock Hell"
"Night of the Darned"
"Solemates"
"Twisted Yarn"
"Nightmare on Lint Street" *NEW
Any other suggestions will be appreciated and considered. TIA.
Or perhaps,
"Some people wanna fill the world with silly sock stories
What's wrong with that? I'd like to know,
'cause here I go agaaaaaaaaaaain."
22 yes votes, 2 maybes and 2 who cares when I polled the AH regarding my latest venture into sockrotica. I went ahead and wrote it, since it was rattling around in the empty real estate laughingly known as my brain. Because the Heather wrote the second line of the story, there is a character named after her. And because the Sherri is so cuddly-cute, there is one named after her as well. I've not yet met the sock strong enough to be named after Snicker, but I'm keeping my eyes open.
This is sock horror, the longest, darkest sock story yet. I am saving it for the Halloween contest (I can post it for the contest on October 1st). Right now, it's sitting on my hard drive, blandly named "HalloweenSockStory." Current contenders for the name are:
"Live and Let Dye"
"Sock Hell"
"Night of the Darned"
"Solemates"
"Twisted Yarn"
"Nightmare on Lint Street" *NEW
Any other suggestions will be appreciated and considered. TIA.
Glad I've got gladiolus!
Okay, that's really dreadfully punny. Too bad. This is an incredible year for my glads--I've spent all of $18 on bulbs, and netted a big armful for Mom, two big vasefuls for the office, and 4 big armfuls for inside my house. Twice now, I have seen a humming bird dipping into them, and despite the numbers I've clipped and brought in, I still have an amazing amount of blooms left. This bodes well for JammiesFest 2007, as at least I'll have one perfect flowerbed to show off.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Sun, Buffett, Rooter & Coffee
What else is needed for a perfect Sunday morning? I woke up at 6:30, rolled over and went back to sleep until 8:12, then got up and let the dogs out and started my morning. So far I've finished one load of laundry, got one in the dryer and one in the washer, weeded along the front sidewalk and watched my resident groundhog ambling through the back yard. Breakfast is in the oven, the coffee is strong and flavored with cinnamon, the sun is shining, Jimmy's singing "Stars on the Water," and I'm so ready for today! It's all otters and kittens this morning.
The first line for a new sock story came to me this morning, "It is a little-known fact that white cotton ankle socks are polyamorous." I'm still not sure if I didn't wear out my sock welcome with three sock stories, but if this one plays out the way I think it will, I'll be able to sit on it until the Halloween contest, at which time I'll decide whether or not to post it. The plot's all there in my head, I just don't know the characters yet.
The first line for a new sock story came to me this morning, "It is a little-known fact that white cotton ankle socks are polyamorous." I'm still not sure if I didn't wear out my sock welcome with three sock stories, but if this one plays out the way I think it will, I'll be able to sit on it until the Halloween contest, at which time I'll decide whether or not to post it. The plot's all there in my head, I just don't know the characters yet.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Today's peeves
Not pet peeves, because two pets is enough. Just the things that are bugging me today.
Deer: Nasty hooved pests ate most of two gladiolus plants, flowers and leaves.
The cute young lady in the waiting room at my doctor's office: It's one thing to vocalize your anger about having to wait more than thirty minutes. It's less classy to do so while your three year old and your five year old are listening to you. It's downright trashy to do so while your kids are listening to you use the F word as every other word.
Headaches: 'nuff said.
A certain poster on a certain message board: Your girlfriend and your best friend are both drama queens who want you all to themselves. They're never going to like each other, and either you're going to go on between the two of them, or it's going to flare into open war again, and one of them is going to pin you to a metaphorical wall and demand that you choose. But that's okay--you love drama yourself, don't you? Oh, and while I'm at it, nobody who makes a big production of being "an Empath" ever really is one, so shut up.
Clients: All of you can take your teeny IQs and your huge egos and just drown them before I do it for you, okay?
Attorney Clueless: You followed your usual pattern of dinking around and having to re-learn things you were told six months ago, and so the court cited you. That happened last month, and now you call on a Thursday afternoon and pout because my boss can't return your call until late Friday afternoon? Where did you get your degree, someplace that advertises on matchboxes? And exactly how many times did you have to take the Florida Bar before you passed? You make my fingers itch for your throat, you really do.
I've got more, but damn, my head hurts.
Deer: Nasty hooved pests ate most of two gladiolus plants, flowers and leaves.
The cute young lady in the waiting room at my doctor's office: It's one thing to vocalize your anger about having to wait more than thirty minutes. It's less classy to do so while your three year old and your five year old are listening to you. It's downright trashy to do so while your kids are listening to you use the F word as every other word.
Headaches: 'nuff said.
A certain poster on a certain message board: Your girlfriend and your best friend are both drama queens who want you all to themselves. They're never going to like each other, and either you're going to go on between the two of them, or it's going to flare into open war again, and one of them is going to pin you to a metaphorical wall and demand that you choose. But that's okay--you love drama yourself, don't you? Oh, and while I'm at it, nobody who makes a big production of being "an Empath" ever really is one, so shut up.
Clients: All of you can take your teeny IQs and your huge egos and just drown them before I do it for you, okay?
Attorney Clueless: You followed your usual pattern of dinking around and having to re-learn things you were told six months ago, and so the court cited you. That happened last month, and now you call on a Thursday afternoon and pout because my boss can't return your call until late Friday afternoon? Where did you get your degree, someplace that advertises on matchboxes? And exactly how many times did you have to take the Florida Bar before you passed? You make my fingers itch for your throat, you really do.
I've got more, but damn, my head hurts.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Sixteen tons
9 bags of cheap topsoil
9 bags of premium topsoil from Ace Hardware
5 bags of Ohio hardwood mulch
4 mini-roses
2 carpet phlox
3 white daisies
3 white balloonflowers
3 pink Canterbury bells
2 self-watering garden edging strips
1 flat hose
Approximately sixteen tons of sweat equity.
End result?
A flowerbed just waiting for 16 white grape hyacinths and 30 pink and white daffodils, plus, if I can find bulbs next spring, white gladiolus. I'm also planning to edge around it with bricks, and create a round pathway of pea gravel and stepping stones. Meanwhile, the new flowerbed in the back needs at least two bags of limestone gravel to soak up the overflow from heavy rain, and this fall it will get its quota of 87 bulbs in varying shades of blue and white. I've also got 100 daff bulbs coming in the fall for naturalizing along the sides of the back yard, and just this minute, I thought, "I've got 233 bulbs on their way this fall--what the HECK have I done to myself?" Eep!
Amy and Josh were just here--Amy did the lawn today instead of Josh, and she ran over the hose leading to the flowerbed above. She insisted on buying me a replacement and bringing it over, so they did. Then I had to hook it up and demonstrate the self-watering, which Amy was sweet enough to at least pretend was as cool to her as it is to me. And I finally got off my butt and put up the tree face Mom gave me for Christmas, and Amy loved that, too. One of the many things I adore about Amy is her enthusiasm--it's infectious and adorable.
I'm going to regret my greed when I start getting bulb shipments, I think, but for now I'm glad I spent the money on something that might well cheer me up later on. It's like sending a present to a future me. The present me is off for a chilled bath!
To paraphrase Berke Breathed,
L. R. Jammies, signing off and heading for the tub!
9 bags of premium topsoil from Ace Hardware
5 bags of Ohio hardwood mulch
4 mini-roses
2 carpet phlox
3 white daisies
3 white balloonflowers
3 pink Canterbury bells
2 self-watering garden edging strips
1 flat hose
Approximately sixteen tons of sweat equity.
End result?
A flowerbed just waiting for 16 white grape hyacinths and 30 pink and white daffodils, plus, if I can find bulbs next spring, white gladiolus. I'm also planning to edge around it with bricks, and create a round pathway of pea gravel and stepping stones. Meanwhile, the new flowerbed in the back needs at least two bags of limestone gravel to soak up the overflow from heavy rain, and this fall it will get its quota of 87 bulbs in varying shades of blue and white. I've also got 100 daff bulbs coming in the fall for naturalizing along the sides of the back yard, and just this minute, I thought, "I've got 233 bulbs on their way this fall--what the HECK have I done to myself?" Eep!
Amy and Josh were just here--Amy did the lawn today instead of Josh, and she ran over the hose leading to the flowerbed above. She insisted on buying me a replacement and bringing it over, so they did. Then I had to hook it up and demonstrate the self-watering, which Amy was sweet enough to at least pretend was as cool to her as it is to me. And I finally got off my butt and put up the tree face Mom gave me for Christmas, and Amy loved that, too. One of the many things I adore about Amy is her enthusiasm--it's infectious and adorable.
I'm going to regret my greed when I start getting bulb shipments, I think, but for now I'm glad I spent the money on something that might well cheer me up later on. It's like sending a present to a future me. The present me is off for a chilled bath!
To paraphrase Berke Breathed,
L. R. Jammies, signing off and heading for the tub!
Sunday, July 16, 2006
JammiesFest 2006
I believe that this marked my longest-running birthday yet. It started two weeks ago, when my much-adored Snicker sent me a gift box full of Lushie things. Then last week, the FontSlut did the same--those arrived on Tuesday. On Wednesday, I got earrings from the bro & sis-in-law in Dallas, and on Friday, I awoke to see a birthday thread on the AH, which grew to three pages long! At work, there was the office lunch. We had pizza and Sun Chips and vegan chocolate cake, and I received a hosta, a wax melt thingie which is just beautiful, and a lovely arrangement of pink carnations and white mums in a pink-and-white-flowered oversized coffee cup. When I got home that night, a friend called and his six-year-old daughter sang "Happy Birthday" to me. *melt*
Today, I headed out to the ancestral homestead (aka the ancestral Colonial in the suburbs, but hey) for brunch with Mom, Dad, the nephews and the brother and sister-in-law from Ohio. I am having the BEST season for glads this year, and to say 'thank you for 16 hours of unmedicated labor 41 years ago,' I took Mom an entire armful of blazing magenta gladiolus. She was really pleased and surprised, but being Mom, she worried about whether I'd denuded my flowerbed (I hadn't). We had a wonderful meal of sausage/egg/Brie strata, Caesar salad, and for dessert, lemon pound cake with strawberries, raspberries and blueberries to pour on top. This is my favorite summer dessert, and Mom gave me all the berries and a slice of cake to take home. Then my brother & sister-in-law apologized profusely for not getting me a present. Gosh, guys, yes, while you're trying to sell one house, buy another and move two kids and a housefull of stuff, you should worry about my birthday. *rolleyes*
Mom and Dad already bought me grownup bookshelves as my present, but Mom had a few more for me. Theoretically, they were from both parents, but unless there's technology involved, it's from Mom. *grin* I got a beautiful plum-colored silk shirt, a crystal necklace and earring set, a bunny stepping stone for the garden, and a really silly pin that declares I am the "Compost Queen." This is not, btw, a title I want anyone using for me, got it? Anybody who calls me that is fair game for the froggies.
All of the above birthday festish stuff would have been enough, but I have been informed that there are yet more pressies on the way, from Mallie & ABG, and from S-Des. I don't deserve all of this love and thoughtfulness, but I am warmly grateful for every little bit of it!
*big mooshy huggy hearts*
Today, I headed out to the ancestral homestead (aka the ancestral Colonial in the suburbs, but hey) for brunch with Mom, Dad, the nephews and the brother and sister-in-law from Ohio. I am having the BEST season for glads this year, and to say 'thank you for 16 hours of unmedicated labor 41 years ago,' I took Mom an entire armful of blazing magenta gladiolus. She was really pleased and surprised, but being Mom, she worried about whether I'd denuded my flowerbed (I hadn't). We had a wonderful meal of sausage/egg/Brie strata, Caesar salad, and for dessert, lemon pound cake with strawberries, raspberries and blueberries to pour on top. This is my favorite summer dessert, and Mom gave me all the berries and a slice of cake to take home. Then my brother & sister-in-law apologized profusely for not getting me a present. Gosh, guys, yes, while you're trying to sell one house, buy another and move two kids and a housefull of stuff, you should worry about my birthday. *rolleyes*
Mom and Dad already bought me grownup bookshelves as my present, but Mom had a few more for me. Theoretically, they were from both parents, but unless there's technology involved, it's from Mom. *grin* I got a beautiful plum-colored silk shirt, a crystal necklace and earring set, a bunny stepping stone for the garden, and a really silly pin that declares I am the "Compost Queen." This is not, btw, a title I want anyone using for me, got it? Anybody who calls me that is fair game for the froggies.
All of the above birthday festish stuff would have been enough, but I have been informed that there are yet more pressies on the way, from Mallie & ABG, and from S-Des. I don't deserve all of this love and thoughtfulness, but I am warmly grateful for every little bit of it!
*big mooshy huggy hearts*
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Lions and tigers and bears (and OTTERS)!
Today was wonderful, but it's going to take a year before I'm willing to do that again. Which is good, because Mom wants to take the boys to the zoo again next year. My nephews are currently calling themselves Chip and Dip, or sometimes George and Alabaster. Chip/George is 6 and a quarter, and Dip/Alabaster is 3 and a half. The fractions are very important, as are the self-selected names. They both did very well at the zoo. There were no meltdowns, no tantrums, both of the boys stayed close, as Gramma requested, and there was only limited begging from Chip starting with "I want..." And after Gramma repeated that at the end of the day he could choose one thing, he quit asking. Smart kid!
We started with the zoo's summer exhibit, Touch. Alabaster got either bored or nervous, I'm not sure which, and went outside with Gramma. Chip, however, stayed for ages, hand palm up in the water the way the docents told everyone, letting what seemed like dozens of curious stingrays rub against his hand. I had no idea stingrays were so cute and so curious and friendly. Hopefully, I got a few good pics, since I took dozens.
In the five hours we were there, the only area we missed was the monkey house/big cat house area. We did see a lion, two tigers, a leopard, lots of bears, lots of reindeer, camels, wolves, a bald eagle, sharks, rays, a beaver, flamingos, giraffes, rhinos, elephants, porcupines, colobus monkeys, orangutans, and, the very last animal we saw on the entire tour of the zoo... *drumroll* OTTERS!
Thank goodness Chip and Dip are cooperative with photographs. I know the ones they're in are going to come out. Some of the other pics I took are in doubt. At the wolf exhibit, we were watching one of the wolves sleeping up on a hillside when the other one came over, and the two exchanged nuzzles and licks and head butts for about five minutes. Of course, while that was going on, I was well back from the glass and letting my nephews and other kidlets look, so I couldn't get a pic. A few minutes later, when I went back, there was only one wolf there, and he had one leg up and was engaged in some industrious personal grooming. I do not need pictures of that, I can see it ten to twelve times a day at home. *rolls eyes*
The otters, cute as they were, were difficult as all get out to photograph. I was having trouble with my camera batteries dying, and I swear the otters were taunting me by climbing out of the pool and posing cutely on the banks, then diving into the water just as the camera finally snapped the pics. Aggravating otters, just like all my Otterbuckets friends often are. :-p
The best part of the day was when we were driving home, with two sleepy and sticky kids in the back, and Mom gave me all the credit for having the idea to go to the Cleveland Zoo and for coming with them and "making it possible." I don't need praise for spending time with my nephews, but the two little voices from the back saying, "Thank you, Auntie Jammies" was priceless.
We started with the zoo's summer exhibit, Touch. Alabaster got either bored or nervous, I'm not sure which, and went outside with Gramma. Chip, however, stayed for ages, hand palm up in the water the way the docents told everyone, letting what seemed like dozens of curious stingrays rub against his hand. I had no idea stingrays were so cute and so curious and friendly. Hopefully, I got a few good pics, since I took dozens.
In the five hours we were there, the only area we missed was the monkey house/big cat house area. We did see a lion, two tigers, a leopard, lots of bears, lots of reindeer, camels, wolves, a bald eagle, sharks, rays, a beaver, flamingos, giraffes, rhinos, elephants, porcupines, colobus monkeys, orangutans, and, the very last animal we saw on the entire tour of the zoo... *drumroll* OTTERS!
Thank goodness Chip and Dip are cooperative with photographs. I know the ones they're in are going to come out. Some of the other pics I took are in doubt. At the wolf exhibit, we were watching one of the wolves sleeping up on a hillside when the other one came over, and the two exchanged nuzzles and licks and head butts for about five minutes. Of course, while that was going on, I was well back from the glass and letting my nephews and other kidlets look, so I couldn't get a pic. A few minutes later, when I went back, there was only one wolf there, and he had one leg up and was engaged in some industrious personal grooming. I do not need pictures of that, I can see it ten to twelve times a day at home. *rolls eyes*
The otters, cute as they were, were difficult as all get out to photograph. I was having trouble with my camera batteries dying, and I swear the otters were taunting me by climbing out of the pool and posing cutely on the banks, then diving into the water just as the camera finally snapped the pics. Aggravating otters, just like all my Otterbuckets friends often are. :-p
The best part of the day was when we were driving home, with two sleepy and sticky kids in the back, and Mom gave me all the credit for having the idea to go to the Cleveland Zoo and for coming with them and "making it possible." I don't need praise for spending time with my nephews, but the two little voices from the back saying, "Thank you, Auntie Jammies" was priceless.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
*Insert clever title here*
Around noon yesterday, I sincerely thought that Tuesday not only sucked, it clawed, scratched and bit as well. The day started with a dead animal in the road right at the end of my driveway, and since all I saw as I grabbed the first opportunity to peel out was brown fur, I was afraid it was Rooter. I got to work just in time to deal with incredibly rude clients, a boss who didn't have her cell phone on when she swore she would, and then followed all of that stress up with a warddrobe malfunction.
I came home early, and after parking the car, walked up to the mailbox. Because I was worried about my resident groundhog, I looked more closely at the corpse in the road than I would have. The good news was that it wasn't Rooter, but the bad news was both that it was a kitty-cat and that I saw more gross bits than I ever wanted to. There was a reason that I never applied for the position of veterinary technician, thanks. *blurg*
After I'd walked back to the house and into the breezeway, I looked into the backyard, and there was Rooter, pretending to be a tree stump. So now I had kitty inside pictures in my head, and I didn't even need to look. I noticed that the handle on the breezeway door was turned, as if someone had tried to open it and stopped when he or she realized it was locked. I knew it wasn't Amy, because she has a key, but I also know that the mail carrier usually at least tries to get packages under cover before she leaves them on the steps. I opened the door, and sure enough, there was a small brown box out there.
Once I had unwrapped the oversized plastic bag the box was swathed in, I saw that it was from my Canadian angel, she who is known as The Heather. Despite only having known me for a month or so, The Heather sent me a birthday package comprised of Lush goodies, including a Rainbow Worrier, which isn't even available online any more! The goodies made my day, and I didn't even need last night's indulgent, luxurious bath experience to perk me up. I still enjoyed said experience, though. *grin* The Heather is a lovely, wonderful, amazing person who truly understands the need for fabulous bath products. She is firmly on my smit list.
Today didn't start out quite as badly as yesterday, but it had its own ups and downs. Work wasn't so bad, but when I got home, I got a phone call from a former co-worker, a young woman in her early 30s. She has two little girls under the age of three, a husband working full time and trying to start his own business, and she's got symptoms which could be MS. We talked for a long time about how I was diagnosed, what MS is, what the treatment is, things like that. She's had a brain MRI, which showed no lesions, but hasn't had a spinal MRI. One thing a nurse did tell me when I was diagnosed is that if there are spinal lesions, you have active MS symptoms. I hope I walked the line between being hopeful and encouraging and sympathetic and not being too optimistic and Pollyannaish. I also hope she listened when I said that I am NOT a doctor, and while I read all the articles in the MS newsletter & magazine, I don't speak with any authority on anything but my own experience. I gave her my cell number, and told her to call me anytime--I do remember how scary it is just to not know. It is tremendously weird that in the first half of this year, someone else who works at the same place started showing MS-like symptoms. She had a clear MRI too, so she's still waiting while the doctors try to figure out what's going on. My heart goes out to both of them, and to their families.
I was a little down about that, and in a reflective mood when I took the trash out to the curb. I grabbed the mail, and there was a package from my brother and sister-in-law in Dallas. Inside was one of the cutest cards I've seen in ages, and two pairs of earrings my sister-in-law made, one sterling & freshwater pearls, and one sterling & round amethyst beads. They are absolutely gorgeous, and I'm looking forward to wearing them! Then, in a moment of silliness, I wrote a little scenario for one of my smittees, and he thought I should post it for everyone to see. Three other people at Lit thought I should submit "Ode to a Cucumber Sandwich" to the poetry section, so after a quick editing, I did so.
Lots of ups and downs this past half-week. I'm looking forward to the zoo tomorrow with Mom & my nephews, but not looking forward all that much to Friday. It's possible, though, that I will get lucky and slide my birthday under the radar this year. *crosses fingers* I don't mind online attention, but I get all pink and flustered when it happens offline.
I came home early, and after parking the car, walked up to the mailbox. Because I was worried about my resident groundhog, I looked more closely at the corpse in the road than I would have. The good news was that it wasn't Rooter, but the bad news was both that it was a kitty-cat and that I saw more gross bits than I ever wanted to. There was a reason that I never applied for the position of veterinary technician, thanks. *blurg*
After I'd walked back to the house and into the breezeway, I looked into the backyard, and there was Rooter, pretending to be a tree stump. So now I had kitty inside pictures in my head, and I didn't even need to look. I noticed that the handle on the breezeway door was turned, as if someone had tried to open it and stopped when he or she realized it was locked. I knew it wasn't Amy, because she has a key, but I also know that the mail carrier usually at least tries to get packages under cover before she leaves them on the steps. I opened the door, and sure enough, there was a small brown box out there.
Once I had unwrapped the oversized plastic bag the box was swathed in, I saw that it was from my Canadian angel, she who is known as The Heather. Despite only having known me for a month or so, The Heather sent me a birthday package comprised of Lush goodies, including a Rainbow Worrier, which isn't even available online any more! The goodies made my day, and I didn't even need last night's indulgent, luxurious bath experience to perk me up. I still enjoyed said experience, though. *grin* The Heather is a lovely, wonderful, amazing person who truly understands the need for fabulous bath products. She is firmly on my smit list.
Today didn't start out quite as badly as yesterday, but it had its own ups and downs. Work wasn't so bad, but when I got home, I got a phone call from a former co-worker, a young woman in her early 30s. She has two little girls under the age of three, a husband working full time and trying to start his own business, and she's got symptoms which could be MS. We talked for a long time about how I was diagnosed, what MS is, what the treatment is, things like that. She's had a brain MRI, which showed no lesions, but hasn't had a spinal MRI. One thing a nurse did tell me when I was diagnosed is that if there are spinal lesions, you have active MS symptoms. I hope I walked the line between being hopeful and encouraging and sympathetic and not being too optimistic and Pollyannaish. I also hope she listened when I said that I am NOT a doctor, and while I read all the articles in the MS newsletter & magazine, I don't speak with any authority on anything but my own experience. I gave her my cell number, and told her to call me anytime--I do remember how scary it is just to not know. It is tremendously weird that in the first half of this year, someone else who works at the same place started showing MS-like symptoms. She had a clear MRI too, so she's still waiting while the doctors try to figure out what's going on. My heart goes out to both of them, and to their families.
I was a little down about that, and in a reflective mood when I took the trash out to the curb. I grabbed the mail, and there was a package from my brother and sister-in-law in Dallas. Inside was one of the cutest cards I've seen in ages, and two pairs of earrings my sister-in-law made, one sterling & freshwater pearls, and one sterling & round amethyst beads. They are absolutely gorgeous, and I'm looking forward to wearing them! Then, in a moment of silliness, I wrote a little scenario for one of my smittees, and he thought I should post it for everyone to see. Three other people at Lit thought I should submit "Ode to a Cucumber Sandwich" to the poetry section, so after a quick editing, I did so.
Lots of ups and downs this past half-week. I'm looking forward to the zoo tomorrow with Mom & my nephews, but not looking forward all that much to Friday. It's possible, though, that I will get lucky and slide my birthday under the radar this year. *crosses fingers* I don't mind online attention, but I get all pink and flustered when it happens offline.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Snobservations
Inner soliloquy from my drive home:
Young lady, you've got the legs for that denim mini-skirt. Not even at my goal weight will I have anything other than short legs--I shall never approach those long, slender, strong ones you're walking around on. And the rope-covered wedgies are cute. The sort of avant-garde hairstyle must make you happy, or you wouldn't wear it. But if you have any illusions that the leopard-print halter doesn't scream "HOOKER" at the top of its little Dacron lungs, you will lose them when the first big ol' Buick pulls up next to you and the nice man behind the wheel flashes a twenty.
Not-so-young lady: No. Just NO. Not the bright burgundy hair, not the skin-tight sleeveless polyester purple paisley print blouse, not the unshaved pits in same, not the cigarette held in the multiply-beringed hand, not the flip-flops with little shells glued on them and especially not the sequined jeans stretching over a butt that looks like two cats fighting in a sack, NONE of that is one-tenth as appalling as the fact that you just SPIT on the sidewalk while you were walking with your kids. Gak.
Hey, mister. Wow. Oh wow. Yes, you are incredibly buff. I suspect you can do things with your pecs that would give my mother a heart attack, a stroke and a pulmonary embolism all at once. That doesn't mean that you should stroll into the employment agency wearing a pair of tennis shoes, a baggy pair of camouflage cargo pants and nothing else. Unless it's an escort agency. Look for women wearing leopard-print halter tops.
Thank you for joining us for today's Snobservations.
Young lady, you've got the legs for that denim mini-skirt. Not even at my goal weight will I have anything other than short legs--I shall never approach those long, slender, strong ones you're walking around on. And the rope-covered wedgies are cute. The sort of avant-garde hairstyle must make you happy, or you wouldn't wear it. But if you have any illusions that the leopard-print halter doesn't scream "HOOKER" at the top of its little Dacron lungs, you will lose them when the first big ol' Buick pulls up next to you and the nice man behind the wheel flashes a twenty.
Not-so-young lady: No. Just NO. Not the bright burgundy hair, not the skin-tight sleeveless polyester purple paisley print blouse, not the unshaved pits in same, not the cigarette held in the multiply-beringed hand, not the flip-flops with little shells glued on them and especially not the sequined jeans stretching over a butt that looks like two cats fighting in a sack, NONE of that is one-tenth as appalling as the fact that you just SPIT on the sidewalk while you were walking with your kids. Gak.
Hey, mister. Wow. Oh wow. Yes, you are incredibly buff. I suspect you can do things with your pecs that would give my mother a heart attack, a stroke and a pulmonary embolism all at once. That doesn't mean that you should stroll into the employment agency wearing a pair of tennis shoes, a baggy pair of camouflage cargo pants and nothing else. Unless it's an escort agency. Look for women wearing leopard-print halter tops.
Thank you for joining us for today's Snobservations.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Ode to a Cucumber Sandwich
Mondays
Please me not.
But on Sundays,
As I savor the last moments
Of the wild and savage weekend,
I tame it.
My good knife slices
Chewy, crusty ciabatta.
A blunter knife slathers
Cream cheese.
Dill and pepper
Fall like green and black snow.
Again, a sharp knife
To razor the cucumber
Into translucency.
And my weekend flees
As lunch
Is packed.
Please me not.
But on Sundays,
As I savor the last moments
Of the wild and savage weekend,
I tame it.
My good knife slices
Chewy, crusty ciabatta.
A blunter knife slathers
Cream cheese.
Dill and pepper
Fall like green and black snow.
Again, a sharp knife
To razor the cucumber
Into translucency.
And my weekend flees
As lunch
Is packed.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Perfect bathrooms, fluffy pink baths, fluffy pink people
Last night, in a reversion to my high school years, I started a convo with Canuck Girl about a dream house in Canada with Canadian toilets, lots of land, a central area of the house with a huge kitchen, giant rooms for entertaining and communal lounging areas. Off the main area would be three wings, one for Canuck Girl and Runs with Beer, one for Sherri and Jay and one for me. That way, everyone has privacy and room for pets, but room to get together and have fun, too. As we were talking, I was perusing the Kohler website, and if you want to see something amusing, go to Kohler.com and look at the "Traditional" bathroom gallery. A strong stomach is a requirement, though. CG and I both agreed we could live with this one, which is contemporary, but this one just screams for the prisoners to riot. My personal favorite is this one, as it's in soft colors, the sink faucets spout from mirrored boxes and the overflow jacuzzi (a must!) fills from the ceiling. That is just so intensely cool. I'd need a giant addition on the back of my house to do that, so anybody interested in giving me $20K can drop me a line.
After that, it was a bit of a letdown to take a bath in my rust-stained, blue, too-small bathtub, but I managed to make do with very hot water, an Amandopondo bubble bar, a Chelsea Garden bath bomb and the attitude of a pink fluffy person to go with my pink fluffy bath. There was a lot of rose scent on and around me, and giant fluffy bubbles, and really, although I dream of giant extravagant bathtubs that fill from the ceiling, I wind up being happy with what I have. The bathroom looks much better now than it did when I moved in, I know that! I was browsing Lush's site, and they have some new bubble bars. I fell instantly in lust with the Sunny Side bubble bar. I shall be sending out a Lush wishlist to my entire family before the holidays. *grin* And yes, Snicker, you're part of the family.
This morning at the grocery store, I spotted the Chief Wahoo chocolate bars Mike's been dying for and can't get his paws on in Eerie. So I snagged five (and forgot the milk, how very me of me) and will mail them out on Monday. It made me wish I had pots and pots of money, so I could send things to friends whenever I wanted. *sigh* Hi, my name is Jammies, and I have a spending problem. I want to spend money both on myself and on my friends. I also found the cutest pair of terry flip-flops for my sister in law. They're orange and have monkey faces on the bit that joins the straps to the base. I'll have to take a pic and upload it. All in all, I have a very good start on my weekend of not doing anything.
After that, it was a bit of a letdown to take a bath in my rust-stained, blue, too-small bathtub, but I managed to make do with very hot water, an Amandopondo bubble bar, a Chelsea Garden bath bomb and the attitude of a pink fluffy person to go with my pink fluffy bath. There was a lot of rose scent on and around me, and giant fluffy bubbles, and really, although I dream of giant extravagant bathtubs that fill from the ceiling, I wind up being happy with what I have. The bathroom looks much better now than it did when I moved in, I know that! I was browsing Lush's site, and they have some new bubble bars. I fell instantly in lust with the Sunny Side bubble bar. I shall be sending out a Lush wishlist to my entire family before the holidays. *grin* And yes, Snicker, you're part of the family.
This morning at the grocery store, I spotted the Chief Wahoo chocolate bars Mike's been dying for and can't get his paws on in Eerie. So I snagged five (and forgot the milk, how very me of me) and will mail them out on Monday. It made me wish I had pots and pots of money, so I could send things to friends whenever I wanted. *sigh* Hi, my name is Jammies, and I have a spending problem. I want to spend money both on myself and on my friends. I also found the cutest pair of terry flip-flops for my sister in law. They're orange and have monkey faces on the bit that joins the straps to the base. I'll have to take a pic and upload it. All in all, I have a very good start on my weekend of not doing anything.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Frogs of Hell (tm and patent pending)
All day, I have been restraining myself from getting into a contest of wills. To reward moi-self for being all grown up, here is some of the stuff I didn't say:
Your bunnies are clearly lame copies of my Frogs of Hell! I have the first and only flame-spitting, fireproof, poisonous, mauve-and-orange Frogs of Hell, custom bio-engineered at the personal behest of Satan herself, Supreme Commandress of the Underworld and Dictatrix for Time Eternal. The best you could do was change some words in my description. Ha! As far as cleverness, imagination, and yes, restraint goes, I WIN!
*neener, neener, neener*
Wow, I feel better now!
Your bunnies are clearly lame copies of my Frogs of Hell! I have the first and only flame-spitting, fireproof, poisonous, mauve-and-orange Frogs of Hell, custom bio-engineered at the personal behest of Satan herself, Supreme Commandress of the Underworld and Dictatrix for Time Eternal. The best you could do was change some words in my description. Ha! As far as cleverness, imagination, and yes, restraint goes, I WIN!
*neener, neener, neener*
Wow, I feel better now!
Nothin' to Say
Chris Isaak: Nothin' to Say
Days can be lonely
Night lets you down
Wonder and wander
There's no one around
Nothing to say now, nothing to do
I can feel my heart breaking
And it's all 'cause of you
Granted, the last two lines don't apply, because I haven't gone and gotten my heart broken recently. Still, I am mega-unamused by this interwebinet thingie right now. The AH is a yawn, nobody I am dying to chat with is on YIM or MSN, the 'paca only said hi and bye, and I'm boredish, so I'm blue.
Perhaps I shall, odd concept, go read something in print. Mom gave me about a year's worth of Vanity Fair, most of them so thick they make my wrist hurt after the first half hour of holding them. Hmmm. That does sound like a reasonable thing to do.
Monday, July 03, 2006
From fuzzy to philosophical
Fuzzy: Rooter, my resident (quite large) groundhog, has a friend. Friday night when I let the dogs out, I looked at the wayback section of the yard and saw two groundhogs. I even managed to figure out that the one on the left was Rooter, because that's the one who, when unknown things are nearby, stands up and pretends to be a tree stump. "Go away. I'm not a groundhog, honest!" The other one took off gallumphing away. I'd post pictures, but all I ever manage to get are pics of my back yard with fuzzy brown lumps in it. "Hey, look! A tree stump!" "Grrr. Damn camera-shy groundhog."
Philosophical: Is my current calmness about matters sexual a matter of me becoming less prudish, or more vulgar? A good thing, or a bad thing? The first time I went to an XXX rated bookstore, I turned bright red, glued myself to the side of the friend who drug me, and hardly looked anywhere other than her face. In the ensuing years, I have: used the "F" word from time to time, taken naughty pictures of myself, written for a porn site, contributed toy reviews, and confessed a combination of the above to various friends. A member of my mother's generation would definitely tell me I had become coarser, more vulgar and less acceptable to society, where I'm sure that most of my friends would say I am more open, more honest and less of a prude. It seems odd to me, after the amounts of therapy I've had, that I can pinpoint precisely what has changed about me, but I can't decide if it's positive or negative.
Maybe I'll just go look for the groundhogs again...
Philosophical: Is my current calmness about matters sexual a matter of me becoming less prudish, or more vulgar? A good thing, or a bad thing? The first time I went to an XXX rated bookstore, I turned bright red, glued myself to the side of the friend who drug me, and hardly looked anywhere other than her face. In the ensuing years, I have: used the "F" word from time to time, taken naughty pictures of myself, written for a porn site, contributed toy reviews, and confessed a combination of the above to various friends. A member of my mother's generation would definitely tell me I had become coarser, more vulgar and less acceptable to society, where I'm sure that most of my friends would say I am more open, more honest and less of a prude. It seems odd to me, after the amounts of therapy I've had, that I can pinpoint precisely what has changed about me, but I can't decide if it's positive or negative.
Maybe I'll just go look for the groundhogs again...
Sunday, July 02, 2006
50% cotton/50% polyester NASCAR-print sheets
Let me say that my beloved friend Snicker, by whom I am forbidden to get mushy, is nonetheless the sister of my heart, the older sister who spoils me with birthday pressies from Lush to feed my jones for bath products, and who does things like change her MSN status to read "Hoping it was at minimum a 400 thread count date."
Unfortunately, it was more of a poly/cotton, NASCAR-print, 0 thread-count date. When your date walks towards your house and pauses to spit, that's really not a good sign. When he has a "spit bottle" in his car, that's an even worse sign. Chewing tobacco aside, we had a good time at dinner with Amy and Josh. Part of that was just eating at my favorite Mexican restaurant, which has incredible food for a decent price, but part of it was the company. I did manage to spill a small amount of salsa on my shirt and a drop of white chile con queso on my skin just above my neckline, but I otherwise managed to convey the food from my plate to my mouth without incident. I had to let a lot of the conversation swirl past me, not being a NASCAR fan, but I managed to get most of the jokes.
After dinner, Amy wanted to go to the XXX bookstore, so we did. Unfortunately, twice within the ten minute drive, my date used the "N" word, immediately followed by the excuse that he's not really a racist. Right. Non-racists use that word all the time. We did have fun at the bookstore. We were wandering around looking at everything, and of course one of the guys had to pick up and wave around the NWS!!! Great American Challenge. Thankfully, it was Amy and not one of the sleazies heading for the peep show in back who noticed the dried white flakes on my chest and handed me a tissue. Then, while we were looking at flavored oral sex gels, I made Amy almost collapse to the floor laughing. She was looking reading the flavors off and commenting, and when she got to "bubble gum" I answered, "Put that back, it's for Michael Jackson" The very best line of the night, though, came as I was standing at the counter looking at the glass dildos. I pointed to an absolutely beautiful one with bluish iridescent swirls and a rose in the knobbed handle end and asked the price, unaware Josh had come up behind me. Almost as soon as the words were out of the cashier's mouth, an outraged bass voice behind me bellowed, "One hundred and nine dollars for a GLASS WIENIE?" *snort*
After examining pretty much the entire inventory of the store, we headed back to my house, where we sat around and read the book of X-rated shots Sherri sent me, making sure to add "with MR. DICK" to the end of each drink name. I did notice that my date flirted with Amy and not with me, so perhaps the non-attraction was mutual. I do know that everyone, myself included, had fun, and sometimes, that's enough.
Unfortunately, it was more of a poly/cotton, NASCAR-print, 0 thread-count date. When your date walks towards your house and pauses to spit, that's really not a good sign. When he has a "spit bottle" in his car, that's an even worse sign. Chewing tobacco aside, we had a good time at dinner with Amy and Josh. Part of that was just eating at my favorite Mexican restaurant, which has incredible food for a decent price, but part of it was the company. I did manage to spill a small amount of salsa on my shirt and a drop of white chile con queso on my skin just above my neckline, but I otherwise managed to convey the food from my plate to my mouth without incident. I had to let a lot of the conversation swirl past me, not being a NASCAR fan, but I managed to get most of the jokes.
After dinner, Amy wanted to go to the XXX bookstore, so we did. Unfortunately, twice within the ten minute drive, my date used the "N" word, immediately followed by the excuse that he's not really a racist. Right. Non-racists use that word all the time. We did have fun at the bookstore. We were wandering around looking at everything, and of course one of the guys had to pick up and wave around the NWS!!! Great American Challenge. Thankfully, it was Amy and not one of the sleazies heading for the peep show in back who noticed the dried white flakes on my chest and handed me a tissue. Then, while we were looking at flavored oral sex gels, I made Amy almost collapse to the floor laughing. She was looking reading the flavors off and commenting, and when she got to "bubble gum" I answered, "Put that back, it's for Michael Jackson" The very best line of the night, though, came as I was standing at the counter looking at the glass dildos. I pointed to an absolutely beautiful one with bluish iridescent swirls and a rose in the knobbed handle end and asked the price, unaware Josh had come up behind me. Almost as soon as the words were out of the cashier's mouth, an outraged bass voice behind me bellowed, "One hundred and nine dollars for a GLASS WIENIE?" *snort*
After examining pretty much the entire inventory of the store, we headed back to my house, where we sat around and read the book of X-rated shots Sherri sent me, making sure to add "with MR. DICK" to the end of each drink name. I did notice that my date flirted with Amy and not with me, so perhaps the non-attraction was mutual. I do know that everyone, myself included, had fun, and sometimes, that's enough.
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