Ack! Books and snow.

The thoughtful Zayrina sent her big snowstorm to Ohio, so I spent yesterday mostly in my recliner, checking e-mail from time to time and being glad I wasn't one of the very few brave souls who went in to the office. Apparently, Cleveland had a hard time getting and keeping the freeways clear, and the mayor suggested businesses start telling people to go home at 3 o'clock.

You'd think with an unexpected day off, I'd do something productive, but the fact is that I managed to pull a muscle over the weekend, which was pretty inhibiting in terms of boxing up books.

When the 'Foots go outside, I hook them up one at a time to a forty-foot airplane cable chain. They tend to wrap it around the well cap, and so I go out and unwrap it. Of course, when it's really cold, I usually stand on the back steps, pretend the cable is a jump rope, and "skip" it over the well cap. On Saturday, I turned the wrong way or something as I was doing that, and pulled the muscle that runs from my right armpit to the side of my right breast.

Yes, I sprained my boob.

This of course led to me not shoveling the driveway on Wednesday. I called the woman who used to plow out my driveway at the old place, and she's still doing that in the winter, so she came over and did a great job. Her family owns and operates an ice cream place in the summer, so plowing is her winter job.

In March, my mom and I are finally going to de-wallpaper and paint my study. In order to do this, I have to remove all of the books and bookshelves. Mom offered to help, but I usually tackle a project by working for half an hour, resting for half an hour, until the job is done. This would drive my Type-A mother absolutely librarian-poo.

However, given my current very sore state, I think I shall box up as many books as I can, and then ask Mom to bring over a dolly and help me move the boxes out of the room.

This is assuming I can get all of them boxed up. I keep noticing ones I'd like to re-read and realizing how very lazy I have been about listing them all on Goodreads.

If anyone would like to stop by and smack me, I could use the motivation.

Cute video

Let's see if this works:



And thanks to Cakewrecks, where I found it.

Lyrical snobservations

Dear Brian McKnight,

In regard to:

One
You're like a dream come true
Two
Just wanna be with you
Three
Girl it's plain to see
That you're the only one for me
Four
Repeat steps one through three
Five
Make you fall in love with me
If ever I believe my work is done
Then I start back at one

Those are not steps, you idiot. Those are statements. Go take remedial English.

Dear Everything but the Girl and Norah Jones,

In regard to:

And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain
And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain

and

Like the desert waiting for the rain
Like a school kid waiting for the spring
Im just sitting here waiting for you
To come on home and turn me on

respectively.

You both fail geology, zoology and biology 101. Deserts do not "miss" or "wait for" rain. In the first place, deserts don't perform any actions, because they are places, not people. Secondly, deserts are full of plants and animals which are perfectly adapted to life with very little water. Rain or any other form of water is utilized, but life goes on without it and without the anticipation of it.

All of you need to go back to high school or hire better songwriters, damnit.

Thoughts for an inauguration

My team went out for lunch and watched the inauguration on the giant tvs at Damon's. Two of my co-workers played trivia through the whole thing. *eye roll*

There were five guys from either an automotive supply store or an auto shop at one of the tables behind us, and I kept hearing these big, loud, manly "I'm not gonna cry in public damnit" sniffles. It was so cute!

President Obama's speech was wonderful, but the clergyman who said the Lord's Prayer paused in the oddest places! I swear I thought he was channelling William Shatner. The poem didn't do anything for me--it seemed to have been written for an earlier time period.

I want this administration and my country to succeed as we start all over again.

A rug with Moses on it

The back story is here.

As a belated Christmas gift, TD sent me a bottle of Holiday Stress Relief bath oil from Black Phoenix Trading Post, and a surprise.

She had been told of the "mug with roses/rug with Moses" conversation, and was apparently looking for a latch-hook pattern to make me a rug. Thankfully, she couldn't find one, and commissioned Kogi to make me a mug, instead.

It is a mug with roses on it:


But SURPRISE! It's also a mug with Moses on it!




Truly a dream come true. :)

Yesterday

was a pretty good day. Bigfoot turned fifteen, I was snowed in for the day, and I got laundry and some tidying up done.

I don't think I'll keep one of the promises I made Bigfoot when he was a puppy, though. He used to jump from the back seat into the driver's seat of the car at every opportunity, and I told him I'd let him drive when he turned 16. If he makes it that far, I'll probably go back on my word.

Please let him make it that far...

I had to edit this to quote Zayrina's comment. "My afterlife will be spent throwing celestial tennis balls."

First of all, thank you, Z.

Second, I love the optimism and the thought behind that comment.

Third, I can picture you doing that with Allie and Ralph and all the rest.

Fourth, thank you again for the hope and the thought and the empathy.

From There to There to Here

The World's Best Heather sent me a lovely Christmas package, stuffed with treats for the dogs and for me. While I love all of it, I have to say that I was especially intrigued by the dark chocolate cocoa mix. TWBH is in Toronto, and I'm guessing she bought said cocoa somewhere in the Toronto area. The cocoa mix was made in Dallas, where the Crossword-Mathgeek family resides.

Small world (and I'm easily amused).

Happy New Year and all that jazz

No 2008 in review post for me. Much of the year sucked, and I'd rather be all Pollyannaish and just remember the good stuff, like the Disney Cruise and JammiesFest.

I don't do resolutions, but that doesn't mean I don't make up my mind to change or tackle things about my life. I just don't believe in setting myself up for failure with a hardline do-or-die goal. I do have an appointment with a dermatologist on Thursday, to see about the psoriasis on my elbows and what I think is probably a sebaceous cyst on my back. I have learned from my father not to look for solutions to psoriasis online. He gave up when he ran across two websites in a row stating that the only "cure" for it is prayer. I've also learned from the estimable Becs not to google sebacious cysts. If a woman with ten cats is grossed out by the results, I'm not going near that.

Mom and I worked yesterday morning on an accounting, then I went to the dentist for a cleaning, then home to pick up frantically before a co-worker arrived. Vintage Attorney bought two ugly '70s chairs from my mother, and they've been residing at my house since Christmas Eve. VA came down to pick them up, and she wanted a tour of Casa de Jammies because it is a classic midcentury ranch.

She loved the house, and even loved the oooooogly '70s Mylar wallpaper (I offered to peel it off and give it to her, but she didn't take me up on that), but what she loved most of all were the 'Foots.

Right before Christmas, VA had to have the older of her two dogs euthanized. Apparently, he looked pretty much like an all-black version of Bigfoot. When she met the dogs, Littlefoot was his usual charming, overgrown-puppy self, and Bigfoot surprised me. He is usually pretty standoffish with strangers, but he showed VA all the warmth and gentleness he can show me. He seemed to understand that she needed fuzz therapy especially from him, and he did his best to provide it. Of course, that kind of response always evokes a "Metoo metoo!" reaction in Littlefoot, so VA got swarmed with puppehlove the whole time we chatted.

Bigfoot has seemed slower and frailer the past week or so, and I'm just dreading what I know but can't believe in my heart will happen. He's fifteen now, and mortal like all of us, but I can't imagine that he'll leave me.

Okay, now I have to go hug my heartdog.

Edited to say that either Bigfoot is just feeling extra lovey these days or he's really being sensitive to moods. When I laid down for my nap today, he cuddled up behind my knees the way he used to, and didn't move until I woke up.