Today is a bittersweet day as it was my last day to read to the preschoolers before they are out of school. We read Green Eggs and Ham, Five Little Monkeys, and (my mom will be so proud) Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.
The kids were literally all over the place. (I had one trying to climb in my lap, one little boy poking a little girl in the leg with his index finger, and one girl trying to show me--repeatedly--her new Disney Princess watch. It was pretty much chaos. Nothing controlled about it, but it was also wonderful to get the expected giant group hug and the chanted "Thank you, miss!"
It's going to be a loooong summer, I'm afraid.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
A Belated Mother's Day Homage
I needed a blank notecard a few weeks ago. I don't remember exactly why but there was some occasion that necessitated a blank space to write a quick "thank you" or a "hope you are well". So off I went to the shelf of random useful stuff. In addition to a small sewing kit and a silver plated ice bucket (Hey, you never know when you might have a champagne chilling emergency!), it contains a box of random cards. I have Hallmark cards I've bought without a specific use just because they made me laugh. I have a whole slew of animal-themed cards. (You know, one of those packs of twenty-five cards that have a few birthday cards with pictures of zoo animals, a few get well soons with a picture of a particularly mournful turtle and ones with blank insides. They are exceedingly cheesy, but have saved my bacon on more than one occasion when I hadn't planned well enough in advance for a birthday.) While rummaging in the deep, dark recesses of the box, I pulled out a ziplock baggie with a few cards of the 3x5 variety. Inside the bag was a note from my maternal grandmother--just a simple greeting in her distinctive handwriting--telling me that she found these cards with drawings of cats on them and decided to send them to me. (I am a great lover of cats, whether of the live or decorative variety, which anyone who knows me well can attest.) It was almost as if I'd stumbled upon a tiny little time machine--a way back to an era when my grandma was alive and well and sending me little gifts for no reason at all. You see, my grandma passed away in April of 2003 from a recurrance of breast cancer. I miss her dearly still.
Oh sure, I don't think about her every day, but certain items or events will bring her back to me with a startling clarity--a certain phrase of music, the scent of the perfume Shalimar, a piece of her jewelry, or even handwriting that resembles hers. It's then that I miss her with an almost physical pain, this petite dynamo, this fierce proponent of her (intelligent and multi-talented) children and grandchildren, this volunteer deluxe. I had a brief moment, sitting with the the note in my hand and the plastic sack full of cat cards in my lap, where I wondered if it really was a message from her. If she had somehow sent me on a course toward it, knowing that I'd find a welcoming presence there. I don't claim to know the intricacies of the universe, but I do know that the whole thing left me in a warm, sweet, blissful state, so I guess it doesn't matter one way or another exactly how I arrived there.
I was reminded of this serendipity on Mother's Day. This is a day, of course, where we think about and honor our mothers and grandmothers, but it is also a day that brings with it some pretty heavy baggage for an infertile person. It is one of those days when it is glaringly obvious that you don't have a descendent to call your own. That someday, when your own mother is gone (God forbid), there won't be a reason to celebrate at all and no one to celebrate you. The whole event has a tendency to take on a none too maudlin aspect so it was good this year to spend time with each of our mothers as well as to remember all four of our grandmothers, who have passed on before us. And I was able to think of the children in our lives (niece, nephews, and those children of friends who call us "aunt" and "uncle") and while I may not be related to them by blood, I am fairly sure that I am (and will continue to be) a positive, welcome influence in their lives. I can only hope that someday, in the far, far future, that one of them might find a distantly written note of mine and think of me fondly and wish I were still around.
Oh sure, I don't think about her every day, but certain items or events will bring her back to me with a startling clarity--a certain phrase of music, the scent of the perfume Shalimar, a piece of her jewelry, or even handwriting that resembles hers. It's then that I miss her with an almost physical pain, this petite dynamo, this fierce proponent of her (intelligent and multi-talented) children and grandchildren, this volunteer deluxe. I had a brief moment, sitting with the the note in my hand and the plastic sack full of cat cards in my lap, where I wondered if it really was a message from her. If she had somehow sent me on a course toward it, knowing that I'd find a welcoming presence there. I don't claim to know the intricacies of the universe, but I do know that the whole thing left me in a warm, sweet, blissful state, so I guess it doesn't matter one way or another exactly how I arrived there.
I was reminded of this serendipity on Mother's Day. This is a day, of course, where we think about and honor our mothers and grandmothers, but it is also a day that brings with it some pretty heavy baggage for an infertile person. It is one of those days when it is glaringly obvious that you don't have a descendent to call your own. That someday, when your own mother is gone (God forbid), there won't be a reason to celebrate at all and no one to celebrate you. The whole event has a tendency to take on a none too maudlin aspect so it was good this year to spend time with each of our mothers as well as to remember all four of our grandmothers, who have passed on before us. And I was able to think of the children in our lives (niece, nephews, and those children of friends who call us "aunt" and "uncle") and while I may not be related to them by blood, I am fairly sure that I am (and will continue to be) a positive, welcome influence in their lives. I can only hope that someday, in the far, far future, that one of them might find a distantly written note of mine and think of me fondly and wish I were still around.
Friday, May 16, 2008
R.I.P. Pete
Sorry for the blog blackout the last week or so. I didn't really have much to say at the end of last week and then had a busy weekend making the rounds of our mothers' houses to celebrate Mother's Day. Monday and Tuesday brought the workload slam and then on Wednesday we had some tragedy with one of our dogs and yesterday I was pretty much out of commission mentally. (I am still planning on doing a much belated Mother's Day post but it will have to be at a later date. Stay tuned.)
I won't go into any of the gory details but we came home on Wednesday after work to one of our neighbors waiting in our driveway. She explained that Pete had been injured and that another neighbor had taken him to the vet. We were, as you might imagine, stunned and went inside to listen to the messages from the police (who had been called out to our house because of Pete) and the vet's office. (The one from the vet's office really irritated the bejeezus out of me because it was basically, call us back asap so we can start emergency treatment. Hello! This is the home number on a Wednesday, WE'RE AT WORK AND WON'T BE HOME UNTIL AFTER 6.) By the time we got home, the vet's office was closed. We tried the emergency pager number but couldn't get anyone to call us back (don't EVEN get me started on this) so we spent the evening and much of a sleepless night with images of our neighbor's description of the situation bouncing around in our heads, bumping up against the worry about the possibilities about the reality of the situation. We had a discussion about what our next step should be and decided that based on our understanding of the severity of his injuries, we would probably have to make the call to have him euthanized. When I say "we" I really mean TLS, because he truly is The Doer of Dirty Deeds around our house. I think I'm fairly good to have around in a crisis, but when the actual crisis is past (as it was from the very first minute we arrived), I am a blubbering wreck. I went off to work yesterday morning leaving TLS as the official decision maker. (Thank God that he had to make the phone call to the vet and not me, because as I said earlier: me=blubbering wreck.) Needless to say, euthanization was the right, but difficult, call. Afterward, TLS brought him home and buried him under the huge sycamore tree in our front yard next to our first cat, Boo. He has his own stone marker and is hopefully enjoying his time racing over the rainbow bridge and barking at motorcyclists to his heart's content.
Rest in peace, Pete. We will miss you.
I won't go into any of the gory details but we came home on Wednesday after work to one of our neighbors waiting in our driveway. She explained that Pete had been injured and that another neighbor had taken him to the vet. We were, as you might imagine, stunned and went inside to listen to the messages from the police (who had been called out to our house because of Pete) and the vet's office. (The one from the vet's office really irritated the bejeezus out of me because it was basically, call us back asap so we can start emergency treatment. Hello! This is the home number on a Wednesday, WE'RE AT WORK AND WON'T BE HOME UNTIL AFTER 6.) By the time we got home, the vet's office was closed. We tried the emergency pager number but couldn't get anyone to call us back (don't EVEN get me started on this) so we spent the evening and much of a sleepless night with images of our neighbor's description of the situation bouncing around in our heads, bumping up against the worry about the possibilities about the reality of the situation. We had a discussion about what our next step should be and decided that based on our understanding of the severity of his injuries, we would probably have to make the call to have him euthanized. When I say "we" I really mean TLS, because he truly is The Doer of Dirty Deeds around our house. I think I'm fairly good to have around in a crisis, but when the actual crisis is past (as it was from the very first minute we arrived), I am a blubbering wreck. I went off to work yesterday morning leaving TLS as the official decision maker. (Thank God that he had to make the phone call to the vet and not me, because as I said earlier: me=blubbering wreck.) Needless to say, euthanization was the right, but difficult, call. Afterward, TLS brought him home and buried him under the huge sycamore tree in our front yard next to our first cat, Boo. He has his own stone marker and is hopefully enjoying his time racing over the rainbow bridge and barking at motorcyclists to his heart's content.
Rest in peace, Pete. We will miss you.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Bats in the Belfry? No, Birds in the Fireplace.
When we bought our house we inherited an Earth Stove, which is basically a self-contained fireplace insert. It has a front door with yellow glass panels and is kinda cool since you can have a fire and not worry about sparks flying out and burning the whole house down. The other thing that we inherited (and have been too inertia-bound to ever do anything about) was barn swallows nesting in the chimney. Everytime winter rolls around we tell each other that we "really need to get a chimney sweep to come out to clean everything out and then install a chimney cap" and every year it doesn't happen somehow and every spring through summer we get to hear multiple new crops of baby barn swallows cheep and scrabble around in there. The first few times I heard the scrabbling noise, I thought for sure that one of them had fallen down into the fireplace but TLS assured me that with the damper closed that was impossible. This continued to be the case until last night. (And it is still impossible with the damper closed, but just guess which position the damper lever was in when all this happened.)
TLS was at his indoor soccer game and wouldn't be home until almost midnight. (Why is it that all the crazy things happen when he isn't around? Don't answer. That was a rhetorical question, really.) I was sitting there catching up on all the shows recorded on the DVR when I heard some noises emanating from the fireplace that didn't sound quite right. I finally got up and looked through the tinted glass and saw a barn swallow staring back at me. The poor thing kept fluttering around in there and flinging itself against the glass. I suppose since the only source of light was coming through there. The cat was going bananas pawing at the front and I was completely stymied. I briefly considered getting a pillow case and trying to open the door and catch him in it, but because of the width of the door, I figured it was much more likely that he'd escape into the house and then I'd really have a problem on my hands, since our ceilings are ten feet and there's no way to shut the living room off from much of the rest of the house. My plan of attack was turn off all the living room lights, go into the bedroom and wait for the cavalry to arrive.
I managed to be awake when TLS got home and told him about the errant bird. He said there wasn't much use at this point in doing anything about it in the dead of night and that it would wait until morning. Morning broke with the bird still stuck in there. (Couldn't have been easy with him magically flying back up the chimney, oh no.) TLS opened the door and tried to grab him with a towel, but birdie decided to try an escape but only managed to fly into the front window. He stunned himself momentarily, but TLS was able to keep the cat from pouncing on it, picked him up, took him outside and released him. Everyone will be happy to know that said bird flew away under his own power and is hopefully living it up flying around the neighborhood. Now, where's the number for that chimney sweep?
TLS was at his indoor soccer game and wouldn't be home until almost midnight. (Why is it that all the crazy things happen when he isn't around? Don't answer. That was a rhetorical question, really.) I was sitting there catching up on all the shows recorded on the DVR when I heard some noises emanating from the fireplace that didn't sound quite right. I finally got up and looked through the tinted glass and saw a barn swallow staring back at me. The poor thing kept fluttering around in there and flinging itself against the glass. I suppose since the only source of light was coming through there. The cat was going bananas pawing at the front and I was completely stymied. I briefly considered getting a pillow case and trying to open the door and catch him in it, but because of the width of the door, I figured it was much more likely that he'd escape into the house and then I'd really have a problem on my hands, since our ceilings are ten feet and there's no way to shut the living room off from much of the rest of the house. My plan of attack was turn off all the living room lights, go into the bedroom and wait for the cavalry to arrive.
I managed to be awake when TLS got home and told him about the errant bird. He said there wasn't much use at this point in doing anything about it in the dead of night and that it would wait until morning. Morning broke with the bird still stuck in there. (Couldn't have been easy with him magically flying back up the chimney, oh no.) TLS opened the door and tried to grab him with a towel, but birdie decided to try an escape but only managed to fly into the front window. He stunned himself momentarily, but TLS was able to keep the cat from pouncing on it, picked him up, took him outside and released him. Everyone will be happy to know that said bird flew away under his own power and is hopefully living it up flying around the neighborhood. Now, where's the number for that chimney sweep?
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Nerd, Nerd, Trend-Setter
On the nerd front...
I spent ten hours over five days watching the documentary, Carrier, on PBS last week. In case you weren't nurturing your inner nerd and managed to miss them, you can watch full episodes online using the link above. Quick summary: A documentary crew spent six months on deployment with the U.S.S. Nimitz filming every aspect of their experiences and opinions. It was fascinating (I thought). Even though TLS declared that he didn't have time in his schedule for that kind of commitment, he did drop in for several of the episodes. I think his favorite was the one when the pilots had to try and land on the pitching deck of the carrier in the midst of a huge storm in the Indian Ocean. Check it out.
And in more news of my nerditude...
What did TLS and I spend last Sunday afternoon doing? You know us--two wild, crazy hipsters. I'm sure you might guess partying like rock stars, but you'd be wrong. We were ... wait for it ... berry picking. (I know everyone wants to hang with us now; I'm currently taking names for the waiting list.) There is a long fence row across the street from our house that has a ton of wild blackberry vines. We managed to pick seven cups of berries--enough for the blackberry cobbler I made last night. Deelish!
I labelled this one as Trend-Setter for lack of a better word. You be the judge.
Just about the time I pulled into the parking garage today, the rain started coming down in buckets. It was a deluge of biblical proportions, if you will. I took the stairs up to the exit door so I could walk the two blocks (with two street crossings) to my office building. As I got to the vestibule at the top of the stairwell, I came across about eight guys standing around with umbrellas in their hands. I paused and was about to ask why everyone was just milling around aimlessly, when someone opened the door to reveal the torrents of rain. I knew from looking at the radar before I left home (yet another NERD ALERT!) that it wouldn't be ending anytime soon, so I wondered why all these big, strapping guys were afraid of a little water. It wasn't as if they were all green and gnarly like the Wicked Witch of the West and would be mellllltinng when the rain hit them. I waited about 30 seconds and then clutching my umbrella like a baton, I strode past them saying, "No time like the present!" I wanted to fling a "You big weenies!" on the end but decided better of it. Of course, the bottom of my pants (up to about knee level) was damp until about 2 o'clock this afternoon, but I felt I held the moral high-ground.
I spent ten hours over five days watching the documentary, Carrier, on PBS last week. In case you weren't nurturing your inner nerd and managed to miss them, you can watch full episodes online using the link above. Quick summary: A documentary crew spent six months on deployment with the U.S.S. Nimitz filming every aspect of their experiences and opinions. It was fascinating (I thought). Even though TLS declared that he didn't have time in his schedule for that kind of commitment, he did drop in for several of the episodes. I think his favorite was the one when the pilots had to try and land on the pitching deck of the carrier in the midst of a huge storm in the Indian Ocean. Check it out.
And in more news of my nerditude...
What did TLS and I spend last Sunday afternoon doing? You know us--two wild, crazy hipsters. I'm sure you might guess partying like rock stars, but you'd be wrong. We were ... wait for it ... berry picking. (I know everyone wants to hang with us now; I'm currently taking names for the waiting list.) There is a long fence row across the street from our house that has a ton of wild blackberry vines. We managed to pick seven cups of berries--enough for the blackberry cobbler I made last night. Deelish!
I labelled this one as Trend-Setter for lack of a better word. You be the judge.
Just about the time I pulled into the parking garage today, the rain started coming down in buckets. It was a deluge of biblical proportions, if you will. I took the stairs up to the exit door so I could walk the two blocks (with two street crossings) to my office building. As I got to the vestibule at the top of the stairwell, I came across about eight guys standing around with umbrellas in their hands. I paused and was about to ask why everyone was just milling around aimlessly, when someone opened the door to reveal the torrents of rain. I knew from looking at the radar before I left home (yet another NERD ALERT!) that it wouldn't be ending anytime soon, so I wondered why all these big, strapping guys were afraid of a little water. It wasn't as if they were all green and gnarly like the Wicked Witch of the West and would be mellllltinng when the rain hit them. I waited about 30 seconds and then clutching my umbrella like a baton, I strode past them saying, "No time like the present!" I wanted to fling a "You big weenies!" on the end but decided better of it. Of course, the bottom of my pants (up to about knee level) was damp until about 2 o'clock this afternoon, but I felt I held the moral high-ground.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
And From The (Awfully Small) Good News File...
I have to say that I was mightily irritated more than one time during the commute in this morning. People were driving like total idiots--tailgating , DART buses coming over into my lane like the big yellow bullies they are, and people driving the wrong way in the parking garage just so they wouldn't have to go 20 seconds out of their way. I figured that making me believe in the goodness of mankind today was an impossible task. However, it turns out that I was wrong. All it took was reading one article in The New York Times.
During a college softball game between Western Oregon and Central Washington, one of the Western Oregon players hit the very first homerun in her entire life. It should have been a three-run over-the-fence homer, but after failing to touch first base, she had to return to touch the bag. During her turn, her leg buckled underneath her due to a probable torn ACL, and she crawled to the bag in tears. None of her teammates could touch her since that would mean she wouldn't be able to legally advance to the next base. The umpires huddled and determined that the two other runners on base would score but if she was unable to continue, she would only be credited with a single. At that moment, the Central Washington first basemen (baseperson?) asked if it would be alright if she and another Washington teammate carried the other player around and she touched the bases. More conferring from the umpires and it was determined that it was legal. The two Washington players cradled the Oregon player around the bases to score her homerun. Western Oregon won that game and also the next game in the doubleheader, but something tells me that everyone who witnessed that game was the true winner. So classy.
During a college softball game between Western Oregon and Central Washington, one of the Western Oregon players hit the very first homerun in her entire life. It should have been a three-run over-the-fence homer, but after failing to touch first base, she had to return to touch the bag. During her turn, her leg buckled underneath her due to a probable torn ACL, and she crawled to the bag in tears. None of her teammates could touch her since that would mean she wouldn't be able to legally advance to the next base. The umpires huddled and determined that the two other runners on base would score but if she was unable to continue, she would only be credited with a single. At that moment, the Central Washington first basemen (baseperson?) asked if it would be alright if she and another Washington teammate carried the other player around and she touched the bases. More conferring from the umpires and it was determined that it was legal. The two Washington players cradled the Oregon player around the bases to score her homerun. Western Oregon won that game and also the next game in the doubleheader, but something tells me that everyone who witnessed that game was the true winner. So classy.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Snakes Are Our Friends
I promised a picture of the escaped (or more likely dumped) python that I saw a few years ago. And after looking at every. single. photo. in our collection, I finally found it -- hooray!
Here's the story in case anyone is interested. We only live a few miles from the Trinity River and often use "the back roads" to get out to the highway. One of the roads runs about parallel to the river about 100 yards from it. There are soybean fields on one side of the road and the woods next to the Trinity on the other and one lone farmhouse. One balmy May day, I was driving home from work and drove up on something lying on the edge of the road. After saying, "What the hell is THAT?" I realized that it was a very large snake. I just happened to have the 35 mm camera in the car, so I stopped, reversed and rolled down my window to take a photo. All this time, Mr. (or Ms.) Snake hadn't moved so I got out, walked carefully to about ten feet from it and took the shot attached above. Then I decided to go around in front of him since he still hadn't moved. (I was careful, Mom, I swear.) About the time I walked in front of him (still about ten feet away), he slowly raised his head, gave me a baleful stare as if to say "you had to go and ruin the good thing I had going here, didn't you" and slithered off back into the trees and presumably down to the river.
I told that story many times after the fact and the most common question I was asked was, "Did you run it over?" To which I would always say, "No, I wouldn't have dreamed of doing that." It was a beautiful snake and I figured he had as much right to be alive as I did. Everyone repeat after me: Snakes are our friends. They eat vermin. I shall not kill them unless they are poisonous and about to bite me.
Here's the story in case anyone is interested. We only live a few miles from the Trinity River and often use "the back roads" to get out to the highway. One of the roads runs about parallel to the river about 100 yards from it. There are soybean fields on one side of the road and the woods next to the Trinity on the other and one lone farmhouse. One balmy May day, I was driving home from work and drove up on something lying on the edge of the road. After saying, "What the hell is THAT?" I realized that it was a very large snake. I just happened to have the 35 mm camera in the car, so I stopped, reversed and rolled down my window to take a photo. All this time, Mr. (or Ms.) Snake hadn't moved so I got out, walked carefully to about ten feet from it and took the shot attached above. Then I decided to go around in front of him since he still hadn't moved. (I was careful, Mom, I swear.) About the time I walked in front of him (still about ten feet away), he slowly raised his head, gave me a baleful stare as if to say "you had to go and ruin the good thing I had going here, didn't you" and slithered off back into the trees and presumably down to the river.
I told that story many times after the fact and the most common question I was asked was, "Did you run it over?" To which I would always say, "No, I wouldn't have dreamed of doing that." It was a beautiful snake and I figured he had as much right to be alive as I did. Everyone repeat after me: Snakes are our friends. They eat vermin. I shall not kill them unless they are poisonous and about to bite me.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Dogs and Kabobs
We had some friends over for dinner last Saturday since it was a particularly spectacular spring day here in North Texas. The weather was a little bit like the story of the three bears--not too hot, not too cold. It was juuuust right. But I digress. Already. Which, I guess, doesn't really bode well for the cohesiveness of this post, but then again I suppose that people don't read my blog for its triumph of organization. (Query: I wonder why it is that people DO read my blog. Probable Answer: Mostly because they are related to me in some way.)
But to get back on subject, such that it is, I talked with my friend Janet about what we were having for dinner and at her suggestion of "something easy" we decided on hot dogs. We divvied up the buying the provisions, so I went to the store. In addition to the hot dogs and stuff to make my world-famous salsa and pico de gallo, I ended up getting the ingredients to make a couple of other dishes. When TLS was helping me get the groceries out of the car I asked him if he'd tell me whether I had created an odd combination. My potentially odd combo? Hot dogs and vegetable kabobs. TLS thought for a moment and then said, "Dogs and kabobs. I like it." And I have to admit that it has a certain flair for the rhyme even if it is a little schizophrenic in the nutritional area. I also got the stuff to make some yummy cheese bread (using Aloutte cheese spread and thinly sliced zucchini and red onion). When our friends stopped at the store, in addition to the picnic friendly potato salad and cole slaw, they were drawn to the shrimp in the seafood case. After a consultation with the lady manning the seafood counter, they decided to use some foil to cook them on the grilltop.
Let me say, ladies and gentlemen, that we started eating chips and hot sauce at about 6 p.m. and finished eating our strawberry shortcake desert at 10 p.m. Here was the extent of our multicourse meal:
Course One:
chips with homemade salsa and guacamole
Course Two:
cheese bread
Course Three:
shrimp
Course Four:
vegetable kabobs
Course Five:
hotdogs with homemade pico de gallo
Course Six:
strawberry shortcake
In the meantime, we sat around the picnic table in the driveway and enjoyed the evening, good friends and an adult beverage or two. Good times.
But to get back on subject, such that it is, I talked with my friend Janet about what we were having for dinner and at her suggestion of "something easy" we decided on hot dogs. We divvied up the buying the provisions, so I went to the store. In addition to the hot dogs and stuff to make my world-famous salsa and pico de gallo, I ended up getting the ingredients to make a couple of other dishes. When TLS was helping me get the groceries out of the car I asked him if he'd tell me whether I had created an odd combination. My potentially odd combo? Hot dogs and vegetable kabobs. TLS thought for a moment and then said, "Dogs and kabobs. I like it." And I have to admit that it has a certain flair for the rhyme even if it is a little schizophrenic in the nutritional area. I also got the stuff to make some yummy cheese bread (using Aloutte cheese spread and thinly sliced zucchini and red onion). When our friends stopped at the store, in addition to the picnic friendly potato salad and cole slaw, they were drawn to the shrimp in the seafood case. After a consultation with the lady manning the seafood counter, they decided to use some foil to cook them on the grilltop.
Let me say, ladies and gentlemen, that we started eating chips and hot sauce at about 6 p.m. and finished eating our strawberry shortcake desert at 10 p.m. Here was the extent of our multicourse meal:
Course One:
chips with homemade salsa and guacamole
Course Two:
cheese bread
Course Three:
shrimp
Course Four:
vegetable kabobs
Course Five:
hotdogs with homemade pico de gallo
Course Six:
strawberry shortcake
In the meantime, we sat around the picnic table in the driveway and enjoyed the evening, good friends and an adult beverage or two. Good times.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Oh Fortune Cookie, Give Us Your Wisdom (Version 3)
It's Friday so I must have gotten some chinese food at Pei Wei.
"An unexpected relationship will become permanent."Huh. I'm stumped on this one, fortune cookie, but I'll be on the lookout.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
The Next Person I Have to Mow Down in My Conquest of the Internet
Said person turns out to be my husband, TLS. "Oh," you ask, "How is he a bigger Internet sensation than you?" Well, it turns out that he is a YouTube rising star. Granted, he's not in the LonelyGirl or Obama Girl stratosphere, but he has a more than respectable view count (6,440, combined) for his two short videos on how to make a potato battery. Especially since they were really only intended for Youngest's oldest kid--codename River Rat--and the completion of his science fair project. While over here at Blogger, I, dear reader, have less than 750 hits for my blog. Not that this is a contest between the two of us. Nooooo. Never. There is absolutely no taunting or not-so-subtle reminders being bandied about the house. How could there possibly be room for competition within the bonds of matrimony? (Whatever. Bring it on, big guy!)
I am not going to link or embed his videos, because, really, I am not in the business of helping my esteemed opponent--no matter how cute he may be.
I am not going to link or embed his videos, because, really, I am not in the business of helping my esteemed opponent--no matter how cute he may be.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Chick-O-What?
Many of you know that I no longer eat chocolate, which is a pity, I know. Believe me, no one would love to eat it more than I do, but it would be BAD NEWS of the very, very bad variety if I did, so I don't. Why? You very understandably ask. Well, that's an exceedingly long story that I usually boil down to the simple phrase, "I have a chronic pain condition that I keep under control with diet." Most of the time, people (read: men) infer that the mysterious condition of which I speak is of the dreaded female variety and ... voila! end. of. story. It has been over ten years since my last taste of chocolate and actually, if I were forced to confess, it hasn't been too bad. Granted, I do sometimes ask TLS if I can smell (really! just smell!) the fantastically chocolatey thing he's eating. And, come to think of it, I did have dreams right after I went on zero chocolate lock-down where I was cramming an entire slice of chocolate cake into my mouth. That being said, though, probably the hardest thing has been to find candy or dessert options that don't have chocolate in them. (This is hardly a a tragedy of epic proportions, I realize. Just trying to give a little background. Really.)
One of the non-chocolate candies that I have recently re-discovered is the humble Chick-O-Stick. It's made in (relatively) nearby Lufkin, Texas -- a fact I didn't realize until I went looking for a link for this post -- and it warms the little Texan cockles of my heart to know that I'm supporting a local business. For those of you who don't follow the link above, a Chick-O-Stick is basically a cylindrical Butterfinger ... only better. I hadn't had one in years (literally years since I think it was during that far-off land of junior high the last time I ate one) and bought one on a whim several months ago. "Ooh!" I thought to myself, "I really like this candy," and mentioned it to TLS. Flash forward to a month or so ago when he was headed to the local convenience store/gas station/local old geezer hang-out. He asked if I wanted anything and I was non-committal so he promised to bring me back a surprise (or a "sussie" if you live at our house). You guessed it, he came back with a handful of Chick-O-Stick (There will be no judging; they are only about half an inch in diameter and about three inches long so it wasn't like I was eating four or five of those king sized candy bars.) and an addiction was born. When I get more than one I swear that I'm only going to eat one and save the rest for later--make them last--and then dang if I don't eat them all within the first 30 minutes. I cannot tell a lie; I am truly weak.
Earlier this week after stopping at the convenience store/gas station/local old geezer hang-out, TLS came out with another handful and as I munched my way through them before we could even get home, I had this brilliant thought, "I bet TLS buys me the world's largest Chick-O-Stick for my 40th birthday." (A birthday that is still eleven months off, I must remind everyone. I am but a mere spring chicken.) I turned and shared this momentous idea with him and watched his eyes almost bug out of his head. Apparently, he had been having the exact same thought. Freaky, I know. I think it is official. We are now sharing a single warped brain. Go figure.
One of the non-chocolate candies that I have recently re-discovered is the humble Chick-O-Stick. It's made in (relatively) nearby Lufkin, Texas -- a fact I didn't realize until I went looking for a link for this post -- and it warms the little Texan cockles of my heart to know that I'm supporting a local business. For those of you who don't follow the link above, a Chick-O-Stick is basically a cylindrical Butterfinger ... only better. I hadn't had one in years (literally years since I think it was during that far-off land of junior high the last time I ate one) and bought one on a whim several months ago. "Ooh!" I thought to myself, "I really like this candy," and mentioned it to TLS. Flash forward to a month or so ago when he was headed to the local convenience store/gas station/local old geezer hang-out. He asked if I wanted anything and I was non-committal so he promised to bring me back a surprise (or a "sussie" if you live at our house). You guessed it, he came back with a handful of Chick-O-Stick (There will be no judging; they are only about half an inch in diameter and about three inches long so it wasn't like I was eating four or five of those king sized candy bars.) and an addiction was born. When I get more than one I swear that I'm only going to eat one and save the rest for later--make them last--and then dang if I don't eat them all within the first 30 minutes. I cannot tell a lie; I am truly weak.
Earlier this week after stopping at the convenience store/gas station/local old geezer hang-out, TLS came out with another handful and as I munched my way through them before we could even get home, I had this brilliant thought, "I bet TLS buys me the world's largest Chick-O-Stick for my 40th birthday." (A birthday that is still eleven months off, I must remind everyone. I am but a mere spring chicken.) I turned and shared this momentous idea with him and watched his eyes almost bug out of his head. Apparently, he had been having the exact same thought. Freaky, I know. I think it is official. We are now sharing a single warped brain. Go figure.
Friday, April 11, 2008
We Now Interrupt This Blog for Sports
Conversation on the ride home last night while listening to the Texas Rangers double-header on the radio:
TLS: They better hope they win both of these games or they are going to be in a situation they won't get out of -- in week two of the season.
Me: And how is this different than any other Rangers season?
TLS: Boo-bird!* I'm going to put you out at the boo-bird bus stop over there.
Me: What?! No one wants them to win more than me!
TLS: Oh yeah. I haven't seen you blog about them yet. ... I guess that's because it's not a sports blog. (putting up air quotes)
So here it is TLS, my Texas Rangers post.
MEMO
To: The Deity or higher power who governs baseball
From: Inertia Girl
re: The Texas Rangers
It's probably too much to ask, but could you please give the Rangers a decent season this year? I know that we can never field a decent pitching staff and that we spend too much money for marquis players at positions that don't add to the bottom line. But we try, Lord, oh how we try. You saw fit to give the Red Sox a world championship, so I know that you are benevolent. (Although I'm not sure what you still have against the Cubs, but that's a request for another day, I suppose.) While I'd love to see the boys win the whole shebang this year, I'm not greedy. I'd just like to see them get to the second round of the playoffs (while beating the pants off the dreaded Yankees if you could throw that in) would be great.
* Boo-bird - (noun) A fan who denigrates his or her own team's chances for the season.
TLS: They better hope they win both of these games or they are going to be in a situation they won't get out of -- in week two of the season.
Me: And how is this different than any other Rangers season?
TLS: Boo-bird!* I'm going to put you out at the boo-bird bus stop over there.
Me: What?! No one wants them to win more than me!
TLS: Oh yeah. I haven't seen you blog about them yet. ... I guess that's because it's not a sports blog. (putting up air quotes)
So here it is TLS, my Texas Rangers post.
MEMO
To: The Deity or higher power who governs baseball
From: Inertia Girl
re: The Texas Rangers
It's probably too much to ask, but could you please give the Rangers a decent season this year? I know that we can never field a decent pitching staff and that we spend too much money for marquis players at positions that don't add to the bottom line. But we try, Lord, oh how we try. You saw fit to give the Red Sox a world championship, so I know that you are benevolent. (Although I'm not sure what you still have against the Cubs, but that's a request for another day, I suppose.) While I'd love to see the boys win the whole shebang this year, I'm not greedy. I'd just like to see them get to the second round of the playoffs (while beating the pants off the dreaded Yankees if you could throw that in) would be great.
* Boo-bird - (noun) A fan who denigrates his or her own team's chances for the season.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Wild Kingdom, Part Two
TLS reminded me of several insects/animals that I forgot in my Wild Kingdom post. Such as:
- coyotes
- swarm of honeybees (moving from one hive to another - see picture below)
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In more luna moth news (since I know everyone hasn't been able to sleep just waiting to hear the latest), #3 has emerged. We discovered this one at a much earlier stage than the other two. After doing some internet research the other day, we found out that when they come out of the pupa the wings are brown and very tiny. The moth then starts pushing fluid into the wings and they get larger and turn green. The picture below is a few minutes into the process.
The video, which is probably only slightly more interesting to people who aren't us than watching paint dry, is about two minutes long and shows the wings slowly engorging. You can also hear me and TLS making inane comments, as a bonus. Enjoy!
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Why You're Not Going to Read the Post I Started Yesterday
I started to write a post yesterday that was depressing and maudlin. (I've literally had to fight the urge to go look up the dictionary definitions of both of those words to confirm that instead of giving you a couple of nuanced adjectives I wasn't being just plain old redundant. But I digress...) I have been in a sort of mini-funk the last few days for no apparent reason. Seriously, nothing has changed in my life (Still have the supportive, wonderful husband? Check. Still gainfully employed? Check. Still got my health - such that it is? Check, check and check.) but I couldn't seem to shake the free-floating anxiety. I had a good cry over a novel I finished Tuesday night, Hangover Soup by Louise Redd, which I thoroughly enjoyed despite the tears. But I couldn't decide whether the book made me cry strictly on its own merits or whether the funk "made me do it", so to speak. Why doesn't someone else read the book and let me know the answer to that one? So, anyway, the abortive post was pretty much a study in self-pity, self-indulgence and any other self related word you can think of. Thankfully, I didn't get very far before I hit the *save as draft* button and closed the blog right out. When I opened it up today (obviously in at least a somewhat better frame of mind), I gleefully deleted everything I wrote and vowed to start afresh. Although, now that I think about it, I've really just indulged the funk by explaining what the gist of the post was. I guess that instead of Why You're Not Going to Read the Post I Started Yesterday, I probably should have called it The Reader's Digest Condensed Version of the Post I Was Going to Publish Yesterday. Bring on the pity party, please, because apparently I can't seem to avoid it.
As a side note, I've been reading over all the material from the advising department from the library school about the classes I'm going to take in the fall. I have to say that I've feeling very "out of the loop" on this whole school thing. I will have one actual in-class course and the other two will be web-based after one meeting. I'm not so sure how I'm going to feel about the whole web-based phenomenon, but it's the way that this program is structured, so I'd better get happy about it, I suppose. I was very excited, though, that I was able to figure out my new .edu email address and how to log on. (I am so easily amused.)
As a side note, I've been reading over all the material from the advising department from the library school about the classes I'm going to take in the fall. I have to say that I've feeling very "out of the loop" on this whole school thing. I will have one actual in-class course and the other two will be web-based after one meeting. I'm not so sure how I'm going to feel about the whole web-based phenomenon, but it's the way that this program is structured, so I'd better get happy about it, I suppose. I was very excited, though, that I was able to figure out my new .edu email address and how to log on. (I am so easily amused.)
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
This Post Brought to You by Mutual of Omaha
I have referenced the fact that it can seem like Wild Kingdom around the old homestead. Here is a list of animals that we have seen around or near our community over the last several years:
- roadrunners
- possums
- skunks
- armadillos
- red-tailed hawks (The one I saw on Saturday had just swooped down and carried off a snake for his morning snack. Too. cool.)
- wild pigs
- an escaped (or released) six-foot python (I have the pictures to prove it somewhere.)
- a bobcat
- yellow garden spiders (That we usually name Charlotte and that TLS feeds grasshoppers.)
In a related note, Luna moth #2 made her appearance yesterday. Based on the width of the antennas, the first was a male, which fits with the reading I've done that the males normally leave the pupa first. Now let the egg-laying begin!
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Odd Omens
Day before yesterday (which, I guess would be Tuesday, if you want to get technical), I was driving past a neighbors house just in time for their American flag to be blown off the pole and onto the ground. I mean, it happened at the exact moment I passed by. It kind of wigged me out. I wasn't sure what the etiquette was for such a situation. I remembered from back in my Girl Scout days that the flag should never be allowed to touch the ground, but what could/should I do since 1) it wasn't my flag and 2) it had already touched the ground. I kept on driving but I kept thinking that it was a bad omen for the day.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
**Nerd Alert -- Lepidopterist Edition**
Confirming that it is like Wild Kingdom here at Casa Inertia, I give you pictures of a luna moth that came out of its pupa today. (TLS found several pupas around the yard last summer and kept them in the garage over the winter. Apparently, today was the appointed day for luna moth #1 to make its appearance.) Photos for your enjoyment and edification:
Luna Moth #1 on TLS's glove
#1 (as moth), #2 as pupa outside of the husk and #3 still inside the papery husk
I Think I Have Blog Performance Anxiety
As you might be able to guess from the list of blogs I read religiously and also because I think I confessed my blog addiction in a prior post, (I could go looking for it and link, but then I'd probably get side-tracked reading my own old posts, critiquing them and considering whether or not I should "improve" them at this late date.) but I read a lot of blogs. I love reading them because they give me a window into the worlds of other people who lead different lives than mine. I read blogs by moms, professional writers, ER doctors, expatriots who live in Europe, and linguists and since I am none of these things, I get to live vicariously through them. I get to try on another lifestyle and think, "I could do that." or "Good lord, who'd want to do that?" or "If only I were younger/smarter/more brave, I'd do that." (And occasionally, while reading about someone else's crazy drama, I get to feel smug and superior with my boring and yet comfy, cozy life.)
And while I love the insights and laughs I get from my internet friends (and by friends I mean someone I know by reputation who doesn't know me at all), I start to feel that my own writing pales in comparison. That subconsious nay-sayer gives me the message that my insights are dim and my wit is dull. "I can't possibly measure up!" I want to scream. But I guess in the same way that no matter how bad your own situation is, you can always find someone in worse shape than you; you are always going to be around people who are better than you at something.
And while I love the insights and laughs I get from my internet friends (and by friends I mean someone I know by reputation who doesn't know me at all), I start to feel that my own writing pales in comparison. That subconsious nay-sayer gives me the message that my insights are dim and my wit is dull. "I can't possibly measure up!" I want to scream. But I guess in the same way that no matter how bad your own situation is, you can always find someone in worse shape than you; you are always going to be around people who are better than you at something.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
I'm In! *
Well, it's official--or at least mostly official. I received my provisional acceptance to the school of library science for the masters degree program yesterday. (The provisional part is because one of the people giving me a recommendation, my boss-natch!, still hasn't sent it in. I sent her a message today with a gentle reminder so hopefully she'll have it in the mail before the end of the week. But unless she writes the world's worst recommendation letter, I'm in.) I will start in August, which I realize will be here before we all know it.
The big reveal:
TLS and I carpooled yesterday and got the mail before we pulled into the driveway. The first envelope on top of the pile caught my eye since it was from someone whose name I didn't recognize. After I determined what that was (about a wedding shower for a cousin of mine), I started flipping through the rest of the stack. The second and third envelopes were from the university and I started to rip into the first.
TLS: What? You're opening it now? In the driveway?
Me: (Ripping open the flap) Yeah.
TLS: Oh kaay.
Me: There are two envelopes. Unless they've turned me down twice, I think it is probably good news.
Pause
Me: (Reading) I'm in.
TLS: Well, that was a big surprise.
I realize that no one else but me had even a shred of doubt, but I did have that little voice that kept telling me that I might get the ol' "neg" letter. So much for the naysayer in the back of my mind.
* I felt the need to asterisk, since it isn't 100% confirmed without the final recommendation. (A stickler, I am. Yes, I know.)
The big reveal:
TLS and I carpooled yesterday and got the mail before we pulled into the driveway. The first envelope on top of the pile caught my eye since it was from someone whose name I didn't recognize. After I determined what that was (about a wedding shower for a cousin of mine), I started flipping through the rest of the stack. The second and third envelopes were from the university and I started to rip into the first.
TLS: What? You're opening it now? In the driveway?
Me: (Ripping open the flap) Yeah.
TLS: Oh kaay.
Me: There are two envelopes. Unless they've turned me down twice, I think it is probably good news.
Pause
Me: (Reading) I'm in.
TLS: Well, that was a big surprise.
I realize that no one else but me had even a shred of doubt, but I did have that little voice that kept telling me that I might get the ol' "neg" letter. So much for the naysayer in the back of my mind.
* I felt the need to asterisk, since it isn't 100% confirmed without the final recommendation. (A stickler, I am. Yes, I know.)
Friday, March 28, 2008
Bumper Sticker Wisdom
Seen on a bumper sticker this morning:
Mean people produce tiny mean peopleIt's hard to argue with that.
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