This is not exactly what I had planned to write for my first entry of the new year, but a small note I was going to post on Facebook kinda grew and I found myself rambling and writing a blog instead.
Why I felt the need to share this embarrassing moment is beyond me, but here goes:
As some people already know, I have been having a dreadful time with this terribly nasty smell in my laundry/pantry room since returning from Mom & Dad's for Christmas. I've emptied the trash numerous times, sprayed down the room and the trash can with lysol more than I normally do in a year, I have tried getting to the sides & peeking at the back of the washer/dryer with my big flashlight to see if something was back there ... all to no avail. Finally last weekend I got a concentrated odor remover and a couple of high powered solid air freshners to see if they could help.
I figured something had died in the attic, however, since I have no way of really getting up in there and I would die of aphixiation before my landlord would come check it out, so I decided to battle the odor and pray that it would eventually go away.
Now ... at this point I should probably note that the light in my laundry/pantry has been out since Thanksgiving. I hate climbing the little ladder and getting up there to change the light, so I've procrastinated and it is still out.
*sigh*
Don't judge. I'm sure there's something you've procrastinated on. It's not like I don't know exactly where everything is in there with my eyes closed, anyhow.
Tonight I got a sudden urge (where, I don't know) to clean a few things out of the refrigerator ... this has to be done quickly because a certain small ball of white fluff loves to try and capture the big black plastic bag and rip it to shreds, thus saving me from the evil bag of garbage whilst strewing it around the living room. So, I dragged the trash can with it's diabolical liner black bag out of the laundry/pantry room, where it is kept to keep it from my fierce protector, into the kitchen, positioned it between me and the refrigerator, blocked the ball of fluff and proceeded to remove some offending pre-Christmas items from the fridge.
Again ... don't judge. Procrastination is not a completely bad thing. Think of the advances in science experiments for the young children in your household.
While doing this, I have to admit that the odor was fairly intense, but I figured it was due to the fact I was directly over the offending can, involved in the stinky business of removing some interesting items from the fridge.
Once done, I had to chase the ball of fluff to retrieve the baggie of molded swiss cheese before it caused damage to him and the house. I then went into the laundry/pantry room to get a paper bag, in order to retrieve the trash from the rest of the house. In for a penny, in for a pound, I figured at this point.
Hmmm. I'm in the laundry/pantry room and I immediately notice that the smell is no longer so intense. Turning, I look at the trash can and decide to get the trash out as quick as possible and then spray down everything yet again with lysol.
Chester and I took the trash out and then, because he's a dog, we had to spend a little quality time in the cold.
Coming back into the kitchen, the smell was more than intense ... it was making my eyes water. I hurriedly got the lysol and proceeded to spray the laundry/pantry room, the kitchen and then the can.
It was then that I noticed there was something in the bottom of the can.
Aha! Epiphany. Something had fallen out of the bag at some point, gotten caught in the can and had spoiled. I started to reach in and remove it. Then I halted and looked a little closer.
*facepalm*
There, in the bottom of my tall, Rubbermaid trashcan, were four ... count them ... 1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... mice in various stages of decomp. Evidently they had tried to getting to the trash, only go fall between the bag and the can, land in the bottom and ... eventually ... die.
And because there was no light in the laundry/pantry room, I had not noticed when I had removed previous bags of trash.
*double sigh*
I had been rejoicing at the fact that we had not seen any signs of the meeces for quite some time and yet I had been frustrated beyond belief by the horrid smell in my laundry/pantry room.
Talk about a catch 22 situation.
No mice because they are DEAD.
Huge smell because they are DEAD.
Oy!
I'm not sad they are dead.
I am, perhaps, sad about the way they died.
I am, definitely, sad that they died and I didn't catch the clue faster.
Needless to say, the offending can has now gone out to the garage and will now go out with the trash. It's old. It needs to be replaced. And there is absolutely NO FRIGGIN' WAY it will ever come back into my house ... dead meece or no dead meece.
The rooms have been thoroughly sprayed for ... hopefully ... the last time.
My house is swiftly (how embarrassingly amazing) becoming deoderized.
The light bulb has not been changed, however.
Give me a break ... I've had a traumatic time and I'm not going to add climbing onto the small ladder to it. At this point I'd most likely fall and that would simply create another embarrassing situation I'd have to write about for a blog.
I do believe one is enough at this time.
Now ... go ahead ... laugh ... you know you want to.
I have been.
Showing posts with label Basic Insanity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Basic Insanity. Show all posts
Friday, January 8, 2010
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Washing Machine Pennies Have Been Spent
Tragedy struck just before Christmas 2007.
No ... not talking about my car accident. That WAS tragic but I'm referring to the death of a washing machine.
MY washing machine. The one that I had purchased 10 years earlier when I had moved into this little house. It had been faithful and then it was dead.
Great.
Atleast the dryer still works.
So, I began the task of loading up the laundry every week ... or more ... and heading out to the laundromat to wash the clothes. There's one that is less than a mile from my house and it is in a nicely lit area, clean and run by an older gentleman that doesn't say much but is always friendly.
I also began the task of saving up my pennies to purchase a new one.
Let's face it. Taking the laundry away from the house is not the greatest of fun.
After *mumblemumble* years of living in apartment complexes and carting the laundry basket across parking lots, down to basements, around to offices, my joy was extreme when upon moving to Tulsa all those years ago, I found an apartment that actually had the washer and dryer in the apartment. Not just the hook up. The actual machines.
Awesome.
I vowed then and there that I wouldn't be one to ever not have a "laundry room" again. Kept that vow for many years.
Until the darn washing machine decided that while the water could go in and the water could go out, if I wanted the clothes to be washed, I had to move that agitator in the middle by myself.
Yes. Because that was going to happen.
Nope ... washing machine was placed to the top of the list of things that I really, really, REALLY want to own, moving to a spot even higher than an HD television and DVR. There are some basic priorities. However, my priorities must be a bit off, because here I am, one year and 9 months later and I still am taking the laundry to the laundry mat ever 10 days to two weeks. (I bought more lingerie - that gives me atleast 14 days before I get desperate - I'm not completely stupid.)
I will admit. I have actually had the possibility of purchasing a washer 3 times since it died. Yep. Three times I have literally had in my hot little hand the amount of money necessary to purchase a machine that could live inside my house and wash my clothes, never having to load them into their respective bags and into the car and out to the laundromat in the rain, the sleet, the snow, the ice, the humidity, the heat, the wind ... well ... you get the picture.
So, why am I still wandering out into the dark of night to take my clothing to the public place where a variety of humanity gather to do this thing called laundry?
Because the President will not make it a federal law that nudity should be instituted nationwide.
Um. No ... that's not true. Just a pipe dream when it's late, I'm tired, and I don't want to but I've washed and rinsed in the sink for three nights and now, in addition to being out of lingerie, I'm also out of outerwear. For some reason my manager refuses to accept my pitiful "should only be seen in the darkness of my own home" clothing as actual "Business Casual". I'm thinking narrow-minded, but then ... she's probably right.
No, the three times were judgement calls ... I had the money ... I could have been responsible ... but I wasn't ... yet, I can't say that they were irresponsible because the three items I received I could not have gotten at any other time and because of them, my life has been filled with much joy, contentment, and happiness.
First ... the washing machine money was used to make my original ticket purchase to my first, and likely only, Supernatural Convention. While the trip morphed into something completely different than originally planned, it would not have occured at all if not for that stash of cash that I had saved and I would not have had a roadtrip week filled with such fun, culminating in the pleasure of squeeing like a little fangirl and having the opportunity to hug and put faces to some special people who have become such special friends.
Nope. That judgement call brought much joy and wouldn't be traded for anything, washing machine included.
Second ... the washing machine money was used last Christmas in a time of financial tightness to allow me to do two things - enjoy being the giver at Christmas, something I truly love and usually am able to do the way I plan, as well as paying up all of my bills and starting the new year off without struggling to find a way to make ends meet. It's not very glamorous but it was a wonderful feeling to start the new year without worrying about the rent and utilities.
Nope. That judgement call brought too much contentment to ever be considered less important than the ease a washing machine would bring.
Third ... the washing machine money was gathered earlier this summer and I actually went and looked at a couple to see about the possibility. Then a dream became achievable and all thoughts of washing machines went completely out of my head and into my house came a small 4.5 pound ball of white fluff I named Chester. He's grown a bit more in the two months I've had him. He is now up to 5.5 lbs and is a bit bigger than the minute size he used to be. He has also discovered a love of going bye-bye, has an extremely aggressive foot fettish at times (he'll actually work to remove both shoes and socks so he can lick and nibble toes and ankles), will fly through the house playing Superman with any piece of paper or magazine he can possibly get hold of, and believes that toilet paper is an actual food group. He also licks my face and gives me kisses, nestles between my legs as we sleep, crawls onto my head and whimpers during a thunder/lightning storm, and has the sweetest way of rubbing his eyes and head awake with his paws when the alarm goes off in the morning. He delights my heart when he begs me to pick him up upon arriving home and he fills a wonderful spot that keeps my house from being empty.
Nope. That judgement call was the best one yet for it has brought me great happiness - even as I sit here writing and watch him dash through the living room with a trail of toilet paper streaming from the bathroom behind him.
*sigh*
So, my savings priority remains to gather enough pennies to purchase a washing machine. I'm not worried. I know that it will happen when the time is right. Sometimes you just have to look at the bigger picture of what is more important. For me it was the joy of a once in a lifetime trip, the contentment of ending a year with a fun Christmas and beginning a year without stress, and the happiness found in a small, furry companion who laughs at me, drives me crazy, and most of all depends on me to be responsible for his safety and welfare while at the same time giving me complete and utter devotion.
Meanwhile, I am still loading up my bags and heading out to the laundromat every once in a while ... meeting the most entertaining and interesting people imaginable.
But that's for another time. Right now someone is advising me he wants to play ... and I am remembering that even though it's washed, it still has to be dried, folded and put away. And since I'm home, I'd best get to that.
No ... not talking about my car accident. That WAS tragic but I'm referring to the death of a washing machine.
MY washing machine. The one that I had purchased 10 years earlier when I had moved into this little house. It had been faithful and then it was dead.
Great.
Atleast the dryer still works.
So, I began the task of loading up the laundry every week ... or more ... and heading out to the laundromat to wash the clothes. There's one that is less than a mile from my house and it is in a nicely lit area, clean and run by an older gentleman that doesn't say much but is always friendly.
I also began the task of saving up my pennies to purchase a new one.
Let's face it. Taking the laundry away from the house is not the greatest of fun.
After *mumblemumble* years of living in apartment complexes and carting the laundry basket across parking lots, down to basements, around to offices, my joy was extreme when upon moving to Tulsa all those years ago, I found an apartment that actually had the washer and dryer in the apartment. Not just the hook up. The actual machines.
Awesome.
I vowed then and there that I wouldn't be one to ever not have a "laundry room" again. Kept that vow for many years.
Until the darn washing machine decided that while the water could go in and the water could go out, if I wanted the clothes to be washed, I had to move that agitator in the middle by myself.
Yes. Because that was going to happen.
Nope ... washing machine was placed to the top of the list of things that I really, really, REALLY want to own, moving to a spot even higher than an HD television and DVR. There are some basic priorities. However, my priorities must be a bit off, because here I am, one year and 9 months later and I still am taking the laundry to the laundry mat ever 10 days to two weeks. (I bought more lingerie - that gives me atleast 14 days before I get desperate - I'm not completely stupid.)
I will admit. I have actually had the possibility of purchasing a washer 3 times since it died. Yep. Three times I have literally had in my hot little hand the amount of money necessary to purchase a machine that could live inside my house and wash my clothes, never having to load them into their respective bags and into the car and out to the laundromat in the rain, the sleet, the snow, the ice, the humidity, the heat, the wind ... well ... you get the picture.
So, why am I still wandering out into the dark of night to take my clothing to the public place where a variety of humanity gather to do this thing called laundry?
Because the President will not make it a federal law that nudity should be instituted nationwide.
Um. No ... that's not true. Just a pipe dream when it's late, I'm tired, and I don't want to but I've washed and rinsed in the sink for three nights and now, in addition to being out of lingerie, I'm also out of outerwear. For some reason my manager refuses to accept my pitiful "should only be seen in the darkness of my own home" clothing as actual "Business Casual". I'm thinking narrow-minded, but then ... she's probably right.
No, the three times were judgement calls ... I had the money ... I could have been responsible ... but I wasn't ... yet, I can't say that they were irresponsible because the three items I received I could not have gotten at any other time and because of them, my life has been filled with much joy, contentment, and happiness.
First ... the washing machine money was used to make my original ticket purchase to my first, and likely only, Supernatural Convention. While the trip morphed into something completely different than originally planned, it would not have occured at all if not for that stash of cash that I had saved and I would not have had a roadtrip week filled with such fun, culminating in the pleasure of squeeing like a little fangirl and having the opportunity to hug and put faces to some special people who have become such special friends.
Nope. That judgement call brought much joy and wouldn't be traded for anything, washing machine included.
Second ... the washing machine money was used last Christmas in a time of financial tightness to allow me to do two things - enjoy being the giver at Christmas, something I truly love and usually am able to do the way I plan, as well as paying up all of my bills and starting the new year off without struggling to find a way to make ends meet. It's not very glamorous but it was a wonderful feeling to start the new year without worrying about the rent and utilities.
Nope. That judgement call brought too much contentment to ever be considered less important than the ease a washing machine would bring.
Third ... the washing machine money was gathered earlier this summer and I actually went and looked at a couple to see about the possibility. Then a dream became achievable and all thoughts of washing machines went completely out of my head and into my house came a small 4.5 pound ball of white fluff I named Chester. He's grown a bit more in the two months I've had him. He is now up to 5.5 lbs and is a bit bigger than the minute size he used to be. He has also discovered a love of going bye-bye, has an extremely aggressive foot fettish at times (he'll actually work to remove both shoes and socks so he can lick and nibble toes and ankles), will fly through the house playing Superman with any piece of paper or magazine he can possibly get hold of, and believes that toilet paper is an actual food group. He also licks my face and gives me kisses, nestles between my legs as we sleep, crawls onto my head and whimpers during a thunder/lightning storm, and has the sweetest way of rubbing his eyes and head awake with his paws when the alarm goes off in the morning. He delights my heart when he begs me to pick him up upon arriving home and he fills a wonderful spot that keeps my house from being empty.
Nope. That judgement call was the best one yet for it has brought me great happiness - even as I sit here writing and watch him dash through the living room with a trail of toilet paper streaming from the bathroom behind him.
*sigh*
So, my savings priority remains to gather enough pennies to purchase a washing machine. I'm not worried. I know that it will happen when the time is right. Sometimes you just have to look at the bigger picture of what is more important. For me it was the joy of a once in a lifetime trip, the contentment of ending a year with a fun Christmas and beginning a year without stress, and the happiness found in a small, furry companion who laughs at me, drives me crazy, and most of all depends on me to be responsible for his safety and welfare while at the same time giving me complete and utter devotion.
Meanwhile, I am still loading up my bags and heading out to the laundromat every once in a while ... meeting the most entertaining and interesting people imaginable.
But that's for another time. Right now someone is advising me he wants to play ... and I am remembering that even though it's washed, it still has to be dried, folded and put away. And since I'm home, I'd best get to that.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Memorial Day Weekend - Gratitude, Bunnies, and Patriotic Pie
Here's a line that some will find amusing and some will wonder at my sanity, but in either case, for me, the sentiment remains this holiday weekend.
It's all about the pie.
Yep. You read that right.
Memorial Day.
An American holiday to commemorate the American casualties in any war or military action in which our country has taken part.
A salute to those brave soldiers who fought for the freedoms we as a nation hold dear.
Larger freedoms such as those of speech and religion.
Smaller freedoms such as the right to picnic when the sun is shining and grill our favorite food of choice, be it hamburgers, hot dogs, chicken, ribs, or whatever suits our tastebuds.
Like pie.
Yeah, I know, it's strange the way my mind works at times.
I'll be honest ... my first thought as this weekend approached was more a gleeful anticipation of three days away from the office, a time to rest and recoup after a week of non-stop activities, both during office hours and long into the evenings after hours, than the actual meaning behind the holiday.
I knew about the raising of the flags ceremony at our local cemetary and looked forward to driving the winding trails at some point this weekend or week as they are lined with the billowing flag.
I always enjoy watching and listening to the National Memorial Concert broadcast on PBS from Washington, DC on the weekend's Sunday night, hearing the music that honors our soldiers and it never fails to stir the pride in my heart.
Most important of all, I fully acknowledge, support, and deeply, DEEPLY appreciate our nation's veterans both living and deceased. It is through their fierce dedication and protection that I am able to sit here at my computer with my windows wide open, enjoying the peace and solitude, listening to the birds and insects backing up my iTunes playlist of classic rock and write these words, these thoughts, these feelings.
Yet I'm also honest enough to admit that this weekend my first thought was not in flag waving. I wanted to simply ... be.
Yes, I did make a list of some chores that do need to be accomplished but I wasn't sweating the timing. There is no enemy approaching that will be thwarted by whether or not I dust & vacuum my living room. (A word of warning ... first person who snidely remarks about my being able to thwart my allergy enemies by accomplishing this chore will be the recepient of my right to bear arms - even if they are verbal arms and not actual bullet discharging weapons.)
A simple, peaceful weekend to relax, to read, to write, to think thoughts and sleep naps.
I didn't know I was going to have a visitor hop by.
Literally.
In the middle of the afternoon Saturday, a flash of shadow out of the corner of my eye had me fearing that a mouse (or squirrel or cat or worse) had decided to take advantage of my fresh air addiction and come in to check out the house. A prowl of the bedrooms and bathrooms brought nothing more to light than the fact that I had yet to accomplish a couple other chores on my list. A quiet, still stance of some time brought no auditory shadows ... rustling of papers, clothes, or anything that might suggest a creature would be attempting to take up residence. So, I returned to the living room and quietly sat reading while intermittently casting an eye towards the hallway.
Imagine my surprise when this itty bitty creature seemed to be peering round the corner of the hall entry. Sitting perfectly still, I watched as the tiny bunny ventured further into my living room ... stopping moment by moment ... it's little nose twitching and body still. I was entranced.
I spoke. A quiet greeting ... "Hello, little one."
It looked towards me and seemed to be listening.
So I talked some more.
At first quiet encouragements to head towards the doorway still open, then ... as it continued to sit and watch me ... listening ... other non-sensical queries and comments that if I were to publish them would simply give further proof that I ... well ... not gonna publish them, so you'll just have to guess on that part. *grins*
Needless to say, it didn't head towards the door.
I got up ... it scampered back to the bedrooms. *sigh*
After making some preparations, I again sat quietly and waited on my itty bitty baby bunny to make an appearance. Sure enough, after some time, it hopped itself out into the living room and then under a table. Okay. Not out the door, but away from the hallway.
Hallway is now blocked.
I sit and watch and, again, quietly talk with my little guest.
Baby Bunny decides it wants to go back to the rooms to play. I can't even begin to describe the incredible cuteness of it's discovery of the blocked hallway. Stopping it's flight to the bedrooms just barely an inch from careening headfirst into the wall I'd erected, it first sat and simply looked. It went to one side. It seemed to cock it's head in puzzlement and went to the other side. It then sat up on his little haunches, as though to try and peer over it. The fact that it was completely taken aback by this new arrival was obvious. Unfortunately, as I made my way towards it, it sped off in a different direction. This time underneath a corner table.
My eldest girlie stopped by on her way to work in order to have a look at my petite visitor. After some moments of coaxing and prodding, she was able to get Baby Bunny out from the corner under the table.
To behind the refrigerator.
*sigh*
Blocked the hallway. Forgot to block the kitchen.
Girlie had to go to work. I was left with Baby Bunny.
After a time my pint-sized guest came out from behind the refrigerator. In a sweet repeat, it tried to once again go back to it's previous spot, this time under the table, only to find the pathway blocked. Bunny curiously tried to get around the blockage before giving up and wandering the living room.
I decided to simply relax and enjoy the visit. I had my tiny companion effectively barred from passage to areas it could hide permanently. As it ventured ... exploring the area ... we talked - or rather, I talked, it listened with a seeming cunning attentiveness. I had snack of pasta salad ... it nibbled a small carrot I laid out for it. We seemed to enjoy each other's company. We both listened and watched as one of the forecasted rain showers was dispersed around my house for a brief, intense time.
Then it was, as the shadows were beginning to lengthen and darken, I looked up from my reading to see that my tiny visitor had finally made it's way to the doorway. I simply watched as it sat for a time, looking out the door, a miniature shadow in silhouette against the waning of the light outside. It was as though it knew that our visit was over and the time had arrived for it to go home.
It hopped out the door.
I went back to my Memorial Day weekend.
A relaxing, quiet weekend to wave my flag and enjoy the freedom to give thanks for those who gave their lives fighting in order that I might do so.
A simple, peaceful weekend to grill some favorites, to read a book, to do some writing, to watch a favorite television show.
A traditional weekend, ushering in the summer with my favorite cool summer holiday dessert ... a pie. Not just any pie ... a pie that is light and fluffy, perfect for those approaching warm days of summer. Not to filling, a perfect match to a dinner of grilled meat and tasty salads. A patriotic pie of red, white, and blue to match the holiday.
Yep. That's how my mind works ... in the end ... after the flag waving and bunny visiting ... it's all about the pie.
It's all about the pie.
Yep. You read that right.
Memorial Day.
An American holiday to commemorate the American casualties in any war or military action in which our country has taken part.
A salute to those brave soldiers who fought for the freedoms we as a nation hold dear.
Larger freedoms such as those of speech and religion.
Smaller freedoms such as the right to picnic when the sun is shining and grill our favorite food of choice, be it hamburgers, hot dogs, chicken, ribs, or whatever suits our tastebuds.
Like pie.
Yeah, I know, it's strange the way my mind works at times.
I'll be honest ... my first thought as this weekend approached was more a gleeful anticipation of three days away from the office, a time to rest and recoup after a week of non-stop activities, both during office hours and long into the evenings after hours, than the actual meaning behind the holiday.
I knew about the raising of the flags ceremony at our local cemetary and looked forward to driving the winding trails at some point this weekend or week as they are lined with the billowing flag.
I always enjoy watching and listening to the National Memorial Concert broadcast on PBS from Washington, DC on the weekend's Sunday night, hearing the music that honors our soldiers and it never fails to stir the pride in my heart.
Most important of all, I fully acknowledge, support, and deeply, DEEPLY appreciate our nation's veterans both living and deceased. It is through their fierce dedication and protection that I am able to sit here at my computer with my windows wide open, enjoying the peace and solitude, listening to the birds and insects backing up my iTunes playlist of classic rock and write these words, these thoughts, these feelings.
Yet I'm also honest enough to admit that this weekend my first thought was not in flag waving. I wanted to simply ... be.
Yes, I did make a list of some chores that do need to be accomplished but I wasn't sweating the timing. There is no enemy approaching that will be thwarted by whether or not I dust & vacuum my living room. (A word of warning ... first person who snidely remarks about my being able to thwart my allergy enemies by accomplishing this chore will be the recepient of my right to bear arms - even if they are verbal arms and not actual bullet discharging weapons.)
A simple, peaceful weekend to relax, to read, to write, to think thoughts and sleep naps.
I didn't know I was going to have a visitor hop by.
Literally.
In the middle of the afternoon Saturday, a flash of shadow out of the corner of my eye had me fearing that a mouse (or squirrel or cat or worse) had decided to take advantage of my fresh air addiction and come in to check out the house. A prowl of the bedrooms and bathrooms brought nothing more to light than the fact that I had yet to accomplish a couple other chores on my list. A quiet, still stance of some time brought no auditory shadows ... rustling of papers, clothes, or anything that might suggest a creature would be attempting to take up residence. So, I returned to the living room and quietly sat reading while intermittently casting an eye towards the hallway.
Imagine my surprise when this itty bitty creature seemed to be peering round the corner of the hall entry. Sitting perfectly still, I watched as the tiny bunny ventured further into my living room ... stopping moment by moment ... it's little nose twitching and body still. I was entranced.
I spoke. A quiet greeting ... "Hello, little one."
It looked towards me and seemed to be listening.
So I talked some more.
At first quiet encouragements to head towards the doorway still open, then ... as it continued to sit and watch me ... listening ... other non-sensical queries and comments that if I were to publish them would simply give further proof that I ... well ... not gonna publish them, so you'll just have to guess on that part. *grins*
Needless to say, it didn't head towards the door.
I got up ... it scampered back to the bedrooms. *sigh*
After making some preparations, I again sat quietly and waited on my itty bitty baby bunny to make an appearance. Sure enough, after some time, it hopped itself out into the living room and then under a table. Okay. Not out the door, but away from the hallway.
Hallway is now blocked.
I sit and watch and, again, quietly talk with my little guest.
Baby Bunny decides it wants to go back to the rooms to play. I can't even begin to describe the incredible cuteness of it's discovery of the blocked hallway. Stopping it's flight to the bedrooms just barely an inch from careening headfirst into the wall I'd erected, it first sat and simply looked. It went to one side. It seemed to cock it's head in puzzlement and went to the other side. It then sat up on his little haunches, as though to try and peer over it. The fact that it was completely taken aback by this new arrival was obvious. Unfortunately, as I made my way towards it, it sped off in a different direction. This time underneath a corner table.
My eldest girlie stopped by on her way to work in order to have a look at my petite visitor. After some moments of coaxing and prodding, she was able to get Baby Bunny out from the corner under the table.
To behind the refrigerator.
*sigh*
Blocked the hallway. Forgot to block the kitchen.
Girlie had to go to work. I was left with Baby Bunny.
After a time my pint-sized guest came out from behind the refrigerator. In a sweet repeat, it tried to once again go back to it's previous spot, this time under the table, only to find the pathway blocked. Bunny curiously tried to get around the blockage before giving up and wandering the living room.
I decided to simply relax and enjoy the visit. I had my tiny companion effectively barred from passage to areas it could hide permanently. As it ventured ... exploring the area ... we talked - or rather, I talked, it listened with a seeming cunning attentiveness. I had snack of pasta salad ... it nibbled a small carrot I laid out for it. We seemed to enjoy each other's company. We both listened and watched as one of the forecasted rain showers was dispersed around my house for a brief, intense time.
Then it was, as the shadows were beginning to lengthen and darken, I looked up from my reading to see that my tiny visitor had finally made it's way to the doorway. I simply watched as it sat for a time, looking out the door, a miniature shadow in silhouette against the waning of the light outside. It was as though it knew that our visit was over and the time had arrived for it to go home.
It hopped out the door.
I went back to my Memorial Day weekend.
A relaxing, quiet weekend to wave my flag and enjoy the freedom to give thanks for those who gave their lives fighting in order that I might do so.
A simple, peaceful weekend to grill some favorites, to read a book, to do some writing, to watch a favorite television show.
A traditional weekend, ushering in the summer with my favorite cool summer holiday dessert ... a pie. Not just any pie ... a pie that is light and fluffy, perfect for those approaching warm days of summer. Not to filling, a perfect match to a dinner of grilled meat and tasty salads. A patriotic pie of red, white, and blue to match the holiday.
Yep. That's how my mind works ... in the end ... after the flag waving and bunny visiting ... it's all about the pie.
Friday, May 15, 2009
20 Days ... Records Set ... Events Occured ... Discoveries Made
Last night on the news, the weatherman advised that we had set a new record ... 20 continuous days of rain, effectively beating the previous record of 13 days. Now, granted, there have been - few and far between - spots of sunshine during these past twenty days. There have been actual hours where no rain has fallen. It has not been a continuous flooding rain for the past 480 hours. We have had days which began with sunshine and ended in storms or vice versa. We have had days of continual light misting rain. We have had storms rage continually throughout the day. However the method ... the result has been the same ... at some point during the last twenty days, rain has fallen on each of them and a new record has thus been set. Now, for some reason known only to the insanity of my mind, when I heard this news, I began thinking about the last twenty record-breaking days and realized that, while I personally haven't exactly set any major records, the last twenty days have been fairly momentous in my life. Events have occurred and discoveries have been made, prompting me to share some of them here ... in my own little ramble room.
Anniversaries are considered to be momentous occasions. The larger the number ... the greater the occasion. Right? I mean ... 25th & 50th anniversaries are celebrated with silver and gold respectively, thus indicating that their achievement is to be valued. Although it wasn’t a silver or gold anniversary, May 3, 2009 commemorated a special date for me. As of that date I had been employed by my company for ten years.
I have to say, I'm rather proud of that achievement. Since beginning my employment availability at the tender age of 16 *mumblemumble* years ago ... we won't count the number of previous years of babysitting ... 10 years is the longest length of time I have been employed with a single company, thus breaking my previous record of 7.5 years at Avis Rent-a-Car. With today's economy such as it is, I am grateful for my job, yet there's more to it than just being grateful for being employed.
This job is something that came about after I had been laid off from a previous employer and without work for four months. At the time I remember thinking it was a "God thing", my coming to this place at just the right time with the ability to utilize all the skills I had gained over the years. I have since realized that this job truly is a "God thing" for I have been blessed over and over by it ... by the people who have come and gone throughout the years and whose lives have touched mine. Yes, there have been bad days ... gray days ... frustratingly aggravating black storm ridden days ... yet it always seems that even in the midst of my most infuriating times, something would occur - a short note ... a grateful smile ... a quiet comment - that renewed my faith that this position was the right one for me and that it truly continues to be a "God Thing".
My ten years was celebrated by the arrival of a truly spectacular arrangement of flowers, sent to me at my office from the president & vice-president of our management company. An array of tulips, hydrangea blooms, lilies, snapdragons, and other assorted bright spring flowers entwined with eucalyptus and greenery, it was breathtaking in its beauty. This morning ... eleven days later ... as I was removing some of the withering stems, I found the bud of a single remaining lily just beginning to open its petals ... a burst of new life and beauty amidst the faded blooms.
Perhaps it's not a record but it was definitely a reminder that beauty continues even when we believe life around us is gray and dreary … like when you’re in the midst of 20 days of rain.
During these twenty days I have also discovered that I will never – EVER - become a narcotic junkie. Seriously. I couldn’t even begin to deal with the constipation, a side effect that comes with regular usage.
‘Nuff said.
*grins*
I discovered this fact during the last twenty days when, for the first time in my *mumblemumble* years, I actually injured myself in such a way as to require my physician to prescribe pain medication heavier than anything I’d ever used previously. As a single female these *mumblemumble* years, I have discovered that when all is said and done, reliance has to be on one’s self when certain events occur. Family is paramount and friends are blessings, but when you are home alone and you fall in the shower, there’s only one person to rinse you off and then clean up the sudsy mess on the bathroom floor. (BTW … that actually did happen about 4 years ago over the July 4th weekend and … again … we’re gonna go with ‘nuff said on that.)
Therefore, when I twisted my knee getting out of my car one evening after work, I thought nothing more of it than a simple twist … a sprain. They happen. You alternate heat with cold and keep it propped. Ibuprofen works great to take the edge off. A few days later you are walking like nothing occurred. In the meantime, there’s only one person to do the laundry … one person to stop at the grocery store and cook the meals … one person to clean up the kitchen and so on and so forth. So, this single female continued business as usual. The event of a twisted knee would pass.
Except … this time … it didn’t.
Still … seeing as doctors are not my favorite people … (my apologies to the medical profession but its true) … I’ll confess … I delayed. For those of us that have achieved the ripe age of *mumblemumble* years, we understand that continual rain has a tendency to seep into our bones and joints, causing a certain amount of aches and pains. Move a bit slower, stick with the heat because it feels better on the propped knee, pop some extra ibuprofen … everything is fine.
Except ... this time ... it wasn’t.
After a week of rain and of … I’m going with the word “discomfort” here … it was time to seek a doctor’s attention.
Blech.
Events have since unfolded amidst the raindrops and storms, and I have been indoctrinated into the medical profession’s game of “Hurry up … no … wait!” With urgency I was sent for an MRI and given a diagnosis. With waiting I have been turned over to an orthopedic specialist. With urgency I have been given details of pending surgery. With waiting I have been given specific instructions not to walk, keep the knee propped and … did I mention the narcotics??? Events have since unfolded and yet, I am still the same single girl who fell in the shower. There is, still, just me to do the rinsing off and the cleaning up ... or ... in this case, the daily chores of life. Yet with the storms … after the raindrops … there’s always God’s rainbow and my rainbows these last 20 days may not have set records, however they did remind me that blessings … like rainbows are there to be discovered.
Whether it was a pair of supporting parents, an adopted Auntie, a couple of caring co-workers, a crazed friend, a simple note, a late night phone call, a load of laundry, a bag of groceries, a hug - in person or through cyberspace ... all of them worked together to remind this single female that while she is alone ... she is never truly alone.
Yep ... events have a way of happening. Big and momentous like a thunderstorm rolling across the plains (or through your neighborhood) they rumble through your life. Along with the events come the discoveries, gentler like the continuing mist or light showers after the storm, but no less awe inspiring in the rainbows they leave.
Yep ... it's been twenty days of rain here. And according to the weatherman ... that record is soon to be broken as rain is anticipated in the form of a huge honking storm coming through.
Tonight.
Making it twenty-one days of rain.
Wonder if there's another event fixing to unfurl itself in my life?
Anniversaries are considered to be momentous occasions. The larger the number ... the greater the occasion. Right? I mean ... 25th & 50th anniversaries are celebrated with silver and gold respectively, thus indicating that their achievement is to be valued. Although it wasn’t a silver or gold anniversary, May 3, 2009 commemorated a special date for me. As of that date I had been employed by my company for ten years.
I have to say, I'm rather proud of that achievement. Since beginning my employment availability at the tender age of 16 *mumblemumble* years ago ... we won't count the number of previous years of babysitting ... 10 years is the longest length of time I have been employed with a single company, thus breaking my previous record of 7.5 years at Avis Rent-a-Car. With today's economy such as it is, I am grateful for my job, yet there's more to it than just being grateful for being employed.
This job is something that came about after I had been laid off from a previous employer and without work for four months. At the time I remember thinking it was a "God thing", my coming to this place at just the right time with the ability to utilize all the skills I had gained over the years. I have since realized that this job truly is a "God thing" for I have been blessed over and over by it ... by the people who have come and gone throughout the years and whose lives have touched mine. Yes, there have been bad days ... gray days ... frustratingly aggravating black storm ridden days ... yet it always seems that even in the midst of my most infuriating times, something would occur - a short note ... a grateful smile ... a quiet comment - that renewed my faith that this position was the right one for me and that it truly continues to be a "God Thing".
My ten years was celebrated by the arrival of a truly spectacular arrangement of flowers, sent to me at my office from the president & vice-president of our management company. An array of tulips, hydrangea blooms, lilies, snapdragons, and other assorted bright spring flowers entwined with eucalyptus and greenery, it was breathtaking in its beauty. This morning ... eleven days later ... as I was removing some of the withering stems, I found the bud of a single remaining lily just beginning to open its petals ... a burst of new life and beauty amidst the faded blooms.
Perhaps it's not a record but it was definitely a reminder that beauty continues even when we believe life around us is gray and dreary … like when you’re in the midst of 20 days of rain.
During these twenty days I have also discovered that I will never – EVER - become a narcotic junkie. Seriously. I couldn’t even begin to deal with the constipation, a side effect that comes with regular usage.
‘Nuff said.
*grins*
I discovered this fact during the last twenty days when, for the first time in my *mumblemumble* years, I actually injured myself in such a way as to require my physician to prescribe pain medication heavier than anything I’d ever used previously. As a single female these *mumblemumble* years, I have discovered that when all is said and done, reliance has to be on one’s self when certain events occur. Family is paramount and friends are blessings, but when you are home alone and you fall in the shower, there’s only one person to rinse you off and then clean up the sudsy mess on the bathroom floor. (BTW … that actually did happen about 4 years ago over the July 4th weekend and … again … we’re gonna go with ‘nuff said on that.)
Therefore, when I twisted my knee getting out of my car one evening after work, I thought nothing more of it than a simple twist … a sprain. They happen. You alternate heat with cold and keep it propped. Ibuprofen works great to take the edge off. A few days later you are walking like nothing occurred. In the meantime, there’s only one person to do the laundry … one person to stop at the grocery store and cook the meals … one person to clean up the kitchen and so on and so forth. So, this single female continued business as usual. The event of a twisted knee would pass.
Except … this time … it didn’t.
Still … seeing as doctors are not my favorite people … (my apologies to the medical profession but its true) … I’ll confess … I delayed. For those of us that have achieved the ripe age of *mumblemumble* years, we understand that continual rain has a tendency to seep into our bones and joints, causing a certain amount of aches and pains. Move a bit slower, stick with the heat because it feels better on the propped knee, pop some extra ibuprofen … everything is fine.
Except ... this time ... it wasn’t.
After a week of rain and of … I’m going with the word “discomfort” here … it was time to seek a doctor’s attention.
Blech.
Events have since unfolded amidst the raindrops and storms, and I have been indoctrinated into the medical profession’s game of “Hurry up … no … wait!” With urgency I was sent for an MRI and given a diagnosis. With waiting I have been turned over to an orthopedic specialist. With urgency I have been given details of pending surgery. With waiting I have been given specific instructions not to walk, keep the knee propped and … did I mention the narcotics??? Events have since unfolded and yet, I am still the same single girl who fell in the shower. There is, still, just me to do the rinsing off and the cleaning up ... or ... in this case, the daily chores of life. Yet with the storms … after the raindrops … there’s always God’s rainbow and my rainbows these last 20 days may not have set records, however they did remind me that blessings … like rainbows are there to be discovered.
Whether it was a pair of supporting parents, an adopted Auntie, a couple of caring co-workers, a crazed friend, a simple note, a late night phone call, a load of laundry, a bag of groceries, a hug - in person or through cyberspace ... all of them worked together to remind this single female that while she is alone ... she is never truly alone.
Yep ... events have a way of happening. Big and momentous like a thunderstorm rolling across the plains (or through your neighborhood) they rumble through your life. Along with the events come the discoveries, gentler like the continuing mist or light showers after the storm, but no less awe inspiring in the rainbows they leave.
Yep ... it's been twenty days of rain here. And according to the weatherman ... that record is soon to be broken as rain is anticipated in the form of a huge honking storm coming through.
Tonight.
Making it twenty-one days of rain.
Wonder if there's another event fixing to unfurl itself in my life?
Friday, February 13, 2009
A Discussion Between Me, Myself, and I
I haven’t been writing lately. Oh … I’ve started several pieces. However nothing seems to be going very well. Nothing has been completed in the timely manner I wanted.
I’ll admit it’s made Me rather frustrated and unhappy.
I really enjoy writing. I find I am most at peace when I get an idea and put it into words. It is something that generally makes Me happy, sorting out thoughts, using words to paint pictures of feelings and experiences.
Therefore, when I am not writing, I don’t feel completely right and that leaves Me feeling rather out of sorts. I have learned that I don’t really like Me when that happens and I believe the fault for this usually lies within Myself.
After pondering the situation for a time, I decided that it would most likely help Me get to feeling better if I had a discussion with Myself. This is sometimes a good thing, but, then again, sometimes it isn’t. The discussions I have with Myself always tend to get a bit lively. I will admit that I am not always the most passive person when I find it necessary to have a conversation with Myself. It is usually because I find Myself unwilling to listen. It’s as though I find Myself not wanting to take responsibility for why I am not feeling good, or simply helping to get Me back on track towards being happier.
Therefore, I don’t enter into these conversations lightly. For some reason I can never seem to fathom, I always tend to make Myself a tad bit crazy. No matter how rational I try to be, listing the areas that need to be followed, I find myself balking … resisting listening to reason. It never fails I end up trying to bring the subject back up only to find myself pushing it further and further away.
When that happens, it generally falls to Me to sort out the finer points of the dialogue and bring it back into a semblance of rationality.
I won’t bore anyone with the complete details. The … ahem … discussion has been rather lengthy and time consuming, continuing on over the course of several days, making Me more than a bit distressed at times.
Bottom line, I told Myself that I was not happy with this empathy I felt Myself having towards the writing that I do.
I told Myself that not being able to write was making Me unhappy and something needed to be done … now.
I told Myself that I was holding Myself accountable for this inability and that it was time to get Myself together and get back to the business that makes Me smile.
Essentially, I argued, and bullied, and essentially painted Myself into a corner.
As you can imagine, this is never good. Whenever I find Myself painted into a corner, I find Myself lashing back.
Nope … not good at all, because in the end is it always Me that bears the brunt of it when I get Myself all worked up like that … when I try to make Myself take some responsibility.
For in the end … after I have shouted at Myself, forcing Myself to declare that I will never write again … it is up to Me … with tears in eyes and heavy heart … to plead with Myself to listen to what I am truly saying.
The writing that I do comes from deep within Myself and is ultimately written only for Me.
I had forgotten that.
The writing that I do only works to satisfy Me when I relax and allow Myself to enjoy the process … the search for the words to describe images and concepts that matter most to Me.
The writing that I do only works when I put away the deadlines that I impose upon Myself and understand that while I might require guidelines and structure for many areas of my life, I find Myself needing an atmosphere that is cozy and cheerful, a bit more loose-fitting, so to speak, for the writing to truly enfold Me and make Me feel able to convey ideas adequately.
It is only then that I find Myself writing and that is what makes Me very happy.
I’ll admit it’s made Me rather frustrated and unhappy.
I really enjoy writing. I find I am most at peace when I get an idea and put it into words. It is something that generally makes Me happy, sorting out thoughts, using words to paint pictures of feelings and experiences.
Therefore, when I am not writing, I don’t feel completely right and that leaves Me feeling rather out of sorts. I have learned that I don’t really like Me when that happens and I believe the fault for this usually lies within Myself.
After pondering the situation for a time, I decided that it would most likely help Me get to feeling better if I had a discussion with Myself. This is sometimes a good thing, but, then again, sometimes it isn’t. The discussions I have with Myself always tend to get a bit lively. I will admit that I am not always the most passive person when I find it necessary to have a conversation with Myself. It is usually because I find Myself unwilling to listen. It’s as though I find Myself not wanting to take responsibility for why I am not feeling good, or simply helping to get Me back on track towards being happier.
Therefore, I don’t enter into these conversations lightly. For some reason I can never seem to fathom, I always tend to make Myself a tad bit crazy. No matter how rational I try to be, listing the areas that need to be followed, I find myself balking … resisting listening to reason. It never fails I end up trying to bring the subject back up only to find myself pushing it further and further away.
When that happens, it generally falls to Me to sort out the finer points of the dialogue and bring it back into a semblance of rationality.
I won’t bore anyone with the complete details. The … ahem … discussion has been rather lengthy and time consuming, continuing on over the course of several days, making Me more than a bit distressed at times.
Bottom line, I told Myself that I was not happy with this empathy I felt Myself having towards the writing that I do.
I told Myself that not being able to write was making Me unhappy and something needed to be done … now.
I told Myself that I was holding Myself accountable for this inability and that it was time to get Myself together and get back to the business that makes Me smile.
Essentially, I argued, and bullied, and essentially painted Myself into a corner.
As you can imagine, this is never good. Whenever I find Myself painted into a corner, I find Myself lashing back.
Nope … not good at all, because in the end is it always Me that bears the brunt of it when I get Myself all worked up like that … when I try to make Myself take some responsibility.
For in the end … after I have shouted at Myself, forcing Myself to declare that I will never write again … it is up to Me … with tears in eyes and heavy heart … to plead with Myself to listen to what I am truly saying.
The writing that I do comes from deep within Myself and is ultimately written only for Me.
I had forgotten that.
The writing that I do only works to satisfy Me when I relax and allow Myself to enjoy the process … the search for the words to describe images and concepts that matter most to Me.
The writing that I do only works when I put away the deadlines that I impose upon Myself and understand that while I might require guidelines and structure for many areas of my life, I find Myself needing an atmosphere that is cozy and cheerful, a bit more loose-fitting, so to speak, for the writing to truly enfold Me and make Me feel able to convey ideas adequately.
It is only then that I find Myself writing and that is what makes Me very happy.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Laundry, Creatures, Executive Decisions and An Insane Stream of Conciousness
Tonight was laundry night.
I'll be honest, I don't like doing it on Thursdays. I usually do it on Tuesdays, but the week got away from me. Thursdays are rushed because I have an 8pm deadline. (For those who don't know ... and we'll have to have a discussion on why not another time ... Supernatural comes on at 8pm on Thursdays and no, I don't care that we're in a hiatus and it's in re-runs, I'm still going to watch it!!) However, tonight I also did laundry.
I was lucky and, therefore, able to clear my desk ... by taking my arm and sweeping everything into my drawer and locking it up ... shut down the office ... so much faster when you're the only one there and all but one main light are already off ... and head out the door. Traffic was light and Baby was feeling her oats, moving in and around the vehicles going less than the speed limit ... if it says 65, WHY are you only going 50??? ... and taking the faster exit like a pro ... she REALLY does like those highways, little red sweetheart! ... and getting me to the laundromat before I usually am even out of the office. Yay!
The laundromat was empty ... another awesome plus ... and I was able to lug in my four bags of clothes ... is it wrong that I have one bag of white, one bag of red, and two bags of black clothing? ... dumped in, detergent added, quarters inserted and washers started without a hitch.
Yes ... I do have to use the laundromat still. Yes ... I did have the money to purchase one the first of the year after mine died a slow and agonizing death ... the spinner thing in the middle that agitates the clothes, which I find hysterical, I mean, seriously -AGITATES the clothes? Like the clothes are gonna smack it back for it's agitation? Who THINKS of this stuff?? - anyway, the agitator died, or was killed by a shirt that simply couldn't take the agitation any longer ... *snickers* ... where was I? ... oh yeah ... dead washer, money to purchase a new one. Got it.
Yeah ... I did have the money but ... well, the Supernatural convention ticket was just too enticing and so I succumbed and I'm SOOOO not sorry ... but that is another blog that is still being written. So! Anyhow, yes, I am using the laundromat. And this is actually NOT a bad thing. Actually ... the laundromat part of doing my laundry is the good part.
When you use the laundromat, you are guaranteed 23 minutes of peace to sit and just be quiet, to read, to be alone with your thoughts. Machines are humming, people are talking quietly, it's warm in the winter, cool in the summer, it's actually kinda nice. My little neighborhood laundromat is run by a kind older man who is very nice but not intrusive. The regular people are friendly. It's not a bad thing. In 23 minutes I can have 4 ... regularly ... or 6 ... when I've stretched it as far as possible or feel the time is necessary to do sheets ... loads completely washed at one time. Nope, the laundromat is my friend.
It's getting home that makes me crabby.
'Cause ... once I get home there's the hanging ... I hang alot, actually mostly all, of my clothes up to dry - shirts and pants ... because the dryer not only does the shrinkage thing, there's also the fading of the colors due to the heat and it's really not good when you have all this black and still don't match, and then there's the electricity usage which, if I can save a penny by hanging clothes, I'm gonna ... so, I'm hanging the clothes. This takes time and needs to be done as soon as possible when I get home in order to avoid wrinkles ... which leads to ironing ... which leads to shuddering and shaking at the horror of the thought ... you get the picture.
Then, for those clothes that don't get hung up, there's the drying and the remembering to finish one load and put in the other load and then remembering to remove THAT load. Then there's the folding and the putting away and then the putting away of the hanging things once they've dried which isn't until the next day.
So, yeah ... laundry ... not my favorite thing. Which has led to my making an executive decision.
See, I have this friend who refuses to let me become a nudist ... I'm not certain of all of her reasons, however my manager and co-worker have thanked her repeatedly for talking me out of becoming a nudist ... and since she is also the same one who sagely advises me to remember to lay down plastic before committing hari kari mayhem upon some of the moronic people in my life ... it's easier to clean up the mess afterwards ... I'm going to have to bow to her wisdom. However, since I'm not allowed to become a nudist, and since the laundry fairies have been on strike in this household for so long that I can't even get them to come to the negotiatng table any longer, I've decided that it's time to put these mice, who seem to want to live in my house, to work.
Yep.
You heard me ... the mice.
I've given this thought. They're here. It's been 11 years and they won't go away. Every spring and every fall they make their presence known, looking for handouts, setting up their little rooms underneath the entertainment center or in the walls of my cabinets or behind my bookcase by the door, planning their families, refusing to pay rent. I've tried the "humane removal" of capturing and releasing them in a nearby field. (Okay ... not me, but a friend who came and took the captured creature in the trap I caught it in by the use of bribery with peanut butter.) They literally came running back. Would have made it if it wasn't for the street curb. Seriously!! So, I'm thinking it's time for them to get off their furry little butts and help out around here!! The mice in Disney's Cinderella did. They even sang about it. Heck! I'll make them little clothes. I'll sing back to them. I'll even feed them food that doesn't have those special little blue pellets in it if they'll simply take the clothes and hang them up, put them in the dryer, fold them, and then put them all away.
Is that asking too much? I don't think so. It's not even an every day chore. Laundry day is just once a week. I'll even do the washing part. Just get them out of the car, dried via hanging or dryer, and then into the dresser drawers and closet. That's all they have to do.
*sigh*
Unfortunately, that's not going to happen, is it? Yeah. I know. I'm stuck with life as it is and I'll have to continue this chore all on my own. The mice won't help.
They've already unionized.
They won't even eat the special blue pellets I put out unless I lace them with Hershey's syrup.
Such is life.
Now ... if you'll excuse me ... I have to go do the dishes. Stupid ants can lift 20 bajillion more pounds than their own body weight and they can't even help by doing the dishes in exchange for tramping through my kitchen and mooching my food!!
I'll be honest, I don't like doing it on Thursdays. I usually do it on Tuesdays, but the week got away from me. Thursdays are rushed because I have an 8pm deadline. (For those who don't know ... and we'll have to have a discussion on why not another time ... Supernatural comes on at 8pm on Thursdays and no, I don't care that we're in a hiatus and it's in re-runs, I'm still going to watch it!!) However, tonight I also did laundry.
I was lucky and, therefore, able to clear my desk ... by taking my arm and sweeping everything into my drawer and locking it up ... shut down the office ... so much faster when you're the only one there and all but one main light are already off ... and head out the door. Traffic was light and Baby was feeling her oats, moving in and around the vehicles going less than the speed limit ... if it says 65, WHY are you only going 50??? ... and taking the faster exit like a pro ... she REALLY does like those highways, little red sweetheart! ... and getting me to the laundromat before I usually am even out of the office. Yay!
The laundromat was empty ... another awesome plus ... and I was able to lug in my four bags of clothes ... is it wrong that I have one bag of white, one bag of red, and two bags of black clothing? ... dumped in, detergent added, quarters inserted and washers started without a hitch.
Yes ... I do have to use the laundromat still. Yes ... I did have the money to purchase one the first of the year after mine died a slow and agonizing death ... the spinner thing in the middle that agitates the clothes, which I find hysterical, I mean, seriously -AGITATES the clothes? Like the clothes are gonna smack it back for it's agitation? Who THINKS of this stuff?? - anyway, the agitator died, or was killed by a shirt that simply couldn't take the agitation any longer ... *snickers* ... where was I? ... oh yeah ... dead washer, money to purchase a new one. Got it.
Yeah ... I did have the money but ... well, the Supernatural convention ticket was just too enticing and so I succumbed and I'm SOOOO not sorry ... but that is another blog that is still being written. So! Anyhow, yes, I am using the laundromat. And this is actually NOT a bad thing. Actually ... the laundromat part of doing my laundry is the good part.
When you use the laundromat, you are guaranteed 23 minutes of peace to sit and just be quiet, to read, to be alone with your thoughts. Machines are humming, people are talking quietly, it's warm in the winter, cool in the summer, it's actually kinda nice. My little neighborhood laundromat is run by a kind older man who is very nice but not intrusive. The regular people are friendly. It's not a bad thing. In 23 minutes I can have 4 ... regularly ... or 6 ... when I've stretched it as far as possible or feel the time is necessary to do sheets ... loads completely washed at one time. Nope, the laundromat is my friend.
It's getting home that makes me crabby.
'Cause ... once I get home there's the hanging ... I hang alot, actually mostly all, of my clothes up to dry - shirts and pants ... because the dryer not only does the shrinkage thing, there's also the fading of the colors due to the heat and it's really not good when you have all this black and still don't match, and then there's the electricity usage which, if I can save a penny by hanging clothes, I'm gonna ... so, I'm hanging the clothes. This takes time and needs to be done as soon as possible when I get home in order to avoid wrinkles ... which leads to ironing ... which leads to shuddering and shaking at the horror of the thought ... you get the picture.
Then, for those clothes that don't get hung up, there's the drying and the remembering to finish one load and put in the other load and then remembering to remove THAT load. Then there's the folding and the putting away and then the putting away of the hanging things once they've dried which isn't until the next day.
So, yeah ... laundry ... not my favorite thing. Which has led to my making an executive decision.
See, I have this friend who refuses to let me become a nudist ... I'm not certain of all of her reasons, however my manager and co-worker have thanked her repeatedly for talking me out of becoming a nudist ... and since she is also the same one who sagely advises me to remember to lay down plastic before committing hari kari mayhem upon some of the moronic people in my life ... it's easier to clean up the mess afterwards ... I'm going to have to bow to her wisdom. However, since I'm not allowed to become a nudist, and since the laundry fairies have been on strike in this household for so long that I can't even get them to come to the negotiatng table any longer, I've decided that it's time to put these mice, who seem to want to live in my house, to work.
Yep.
You heard me ... the mice.
I've given this thought. They're here. It's been 11 years and they won't go away. Every spring and every fall they make their presence known, looking for handouts, setting up their little rooms underneath the entertainment center or in the walls of my cabinets or behind my bookcase by the door, planning their families, refusing to pay rent. I've tried the "humane removal" of capturing and releasing them in a nearby field. (Okay ... not me, but a friend who came and took the captured creature in the trap I caught it in by the use of bribery with peanut butter.) They literally came running back. Would have made it if it wasn't for the street curb. Seriously!! So, I'm thinking it's time for them to get off their furry little butts and help out around here!! The mice in Disney's Cinderella did. They even sang about it. Heck! I'll make them little clothes. I'll sing back to them. I'll even feed them food that doesn't have those special little blue pellets in it if they'll simply take the clothes and hang them up, put them in the dryer, fold them, and then put them all away.
Is that asking too much? I don't think so. It's not even an every day chore. Laundry day is just once a week. I'll even do the washing part. Just get them out of the car, dried via hanging or dryer, and then into the dresser drawers and closet. That's all they have to do.
*sigh*
Unfortunately, that's not going to happen, is it? Yeah. I know. I'm stuck with life as it is and I'll have to continue this chore all on my own. The mice won't help.
They've already unionized.
They won't even eat the special blue pellets I put out unless I lace them with Hershey's syrup.
Such is life.
Now ... if you'll excuse me ... I have to go do the dishes. Stupid ants can lift 20 bajillion more pounds than their own body weight and they can't even help by doing the dishes in exchange for tramping through my kitchen and mooching my food!!
Friday, September 12, 2008
Condiment Craziness
Sometimes you simply have to shake your head and move on.Sometimes you have to give in to the desire and rant.
Today I will be ranting. I've shaken my head, I've moved on time and again, but this morning I couldn't do it any longer.
Today I will be writing another of my sternly worded letters. Once again, I state up front that I realize I am a "lone voice in the wilderness". Perhaps some things get to me a bit more than they do others. That's okay. Sometimes I just have to speak my mind and this is the forum that I choose to do it in - my writing.
Because after you do something insane and drastic (and make people look at you like you've lost your everlovin' mind) ... it's nice to share it with friends ... right?
See ... once a week I treat myself to a fast food breakfast. I'm counting pennies alot lately and eating out is expensive when, for the cost of one dinner at my favorite little restaurant I can buy groceries that will fix atleast three, if not four meals. However, buying a couple of breakfast sandwiches or taquitos is relatively inexpensive and so I indulge myself.
Myself likes it. :-)
This morning's treat was two sausage, egg, and cheese taquitos from one of my favorite local fast food chains - Whataburger. These taquitos always come with a cheerful memory of living in Austin and being a Nanny. My girl and I would have them every other Friday morning. She loved them. So did I.
Now, I'm not a regular, but I have been doing this for the last few months and the same girl has been there running the window each time. She recognizes me, my car, and my order. Each time I place my order over the lovely box, I am asked if I want picante sauce with my order. Each time I reply "no thank you". I pull to the window and pass the girl my money along with my "Good morning". She replied, we smiled and she asked me again ... did I want picante sauce. Now, I would just like to say for the record that over the last few months I have replied to the negative each and every time. Nothing has changed. So, once again I shake my head to the negative and replied "No, thank you." She closed the window and I waited. She comes back to the window and asks AGAIN ... would I like picante sauce. I really tried to keep the look of total disbelief out of my face but I'm thinking I failed as the words "NO! THANK YOU." came from my lips. She hands me my bag and I proceed to pull out of the lane and towards the street. I set the bag to the side and something rattled. Now ... taquitos? They're fairly soft. Not so much with the rattling. So I opened the bag and looked and there sat two taquitos ... topped with four containers of picante sauce!
I could have just gone on.
I probably should have just gone on.
But I didn't.
I turned around and got back in the order lane. When the girl's voice came over the box I replied that I wasn't ordering, I was returning. Yeah ... that got her attention. I pulled up to the window and found, not just the order girl, but - surprise! - also her manager. I opened my bag. I pulled out the four containers. I handed them to the girl and told her that I would be really grateful if she would actually LISTEN to her customers. The I told the manager that his profit margin might increase if he would take a bit of time in training his people to first listen and then follow through. Over the last couple months I could have filled two jars of picante sauce from the packages I have refused and yet they still give me.
I'd like to point out here that I wasn't snippy and nasty, just frustrated at the waste because it just gets thrown away.
That was my morning and that is what has prompted my need to write a sternly worded letter ... in case anyone actually reads this blog, but more to just get it off my chest.
Ahem.
To the Presidents and CEOs of Drive Thru Food America -
Dear Sirs,
As one of the millions of people who have frequented your various establishments over the years I would simply like to say "Thank You".
Originally, I was only able to stock my refrigerator by filling my bottles of ketchup and mustard and mayonaise from the handfuls of condiments my bags would contain, whether I asked for them or not.
Over the years, I've been able to scratch butter and sour cream, picante sauce and cocktail sauce off of my grocery list, not to mention the barbeque sauce and the ranch dressing. Now, with the advent of offerings of items such as honey mustard, croutons, garlic butter, various hot sauces, etc. I am able to bypass the condiment aisle of my grocery store altogether! Awesome.
Plus, I cannot forget to give thanks to the pizza chains. Not only do I have an endless supply of grated parmesan cheese, but I also have more than enough red pepper flakes to give flaming heartburn to each pot of chili I prepare for the next 10 years.
Let us not forget the salt and pepper, those basic of condiments. I now have enough salt to protect my house from the most evil host of demons. (My apologies if you are not current on your demon lore. Might I suggest you turn to the CW show Supernatural on Thursday nights and find out how salt is more than just a seasoning?) As for pepper, well, let's just say that sneezing is never a problem around my household.
I would simply like to end this letter by saying thank you. Thank you for hiring people who do not listen. Thank you for training your employees that the customer gets it, whether they want it or not.
Oh! And thank you for raising the price of your menu items to cover your overhead losses caused by the handfuls of ketchup, of picante sauce, of ranch dressing, etc. over the years.
Sincerely yours,
A Condiment Customer
Now ... if you'll excuse me ... I'm heading out to get a hot dog for lunch. My relish jar was looking a bit low this morning.
Monday, August 25, 2008
They Can Turn Me Off, But They Can't Shut Me Up!
You know it’s definitely a Monday when you wake up two hours early only to fall back to sleep just before the alarm actually goes off, causing you to hit the snooze button more times than you technically should and the only thing that keeps you from blithely sleeping away the morning is not the sense of duty to get up and go to work but the nagging knowledge that there is a child who needs to go to school (not WANTS, just NEEDS – there is a difference).
You know it’s definitely a Monday when you arrive to work after having a been off the previous Thursday and Friday and your residents decide to not recognize the fact that you were not here and expect you to be completely omniscient to their situations (and immediately have the solutions) the exact minute that you rush through the front door of the office six minutes late because of the previous waking up early/hitting the snooze button situation.
(It should be noted here that while YOUR arrival to work was late – the child was early getting to school. Go figure.)
You know it’s definitely a Monday when your computer advises you that it is unable to display your connected webpage – the webpage that includes all the work that you need access to for the current day, as well as to get caught up from the vacation days that you are now wondering why you felt the need to take them.
You know it’s definitely a Monday when you are forced to speak to a machine when calling your internet provider – a machine which does not seem to catch the snarkastic way you reply to it’s automatic questions, nor catches the snide comments made under your breath and which reaffirms to your soul that while these businesses may claim to be customer friendly but they are in fact not, for if they were customer friendly they would spend the minimum wage necessary to allow you to speak to an actual person who actually may know something.
Then again.
You know it’s definitely a Monday when you are finally allowed to speak directly to an actual person at the number you dial for your internet provider and you find that the person to whom you are speaking is in a different country altogether and you try desperately to remain polite, because you really need assistance getting back online, as you turn up your volume and listen as intently as possible and still have to have everything repeated at least three times in order to understand through the accent what is being said, all the while trying to figure out whether the other person is just a genius at understanding your accent or are they just getting lucky at their attempts in interpreting what you are trying to get assistance with or are they simply helping you with a problem which is not actually your problem.
You know it’s definitely a Monday when you arrive to work after having a been off the previous Thursday and Friday and your residents decide to not recognize the fact that you were not here and expect you to be completely omniscient to their situations (and immediately have the solutions) the exact minute that you rush through the front door of the office six minutes late because of the previous waking up early/hitting the snooze button situation.
(It should be noted here that while YOUR arrival to work was late – the child was early getting to school. Go figure.)
You know it’s definitely a Monday when your computer advises you that it is unable to display your connected webpage – the webpage that includes all the work that you need access to for the current day, as well as to get caught up from the vacation days that you are now wondering why you felt the need to take them.
You know it’s definitely a Monday when you are forced to speak to a machine when calling your internet provider – a machine which does not seem to catch the snarkastic way you reply to it’s automatic questions, nor catches the snide comments made under your breath and which reaffirms to your soul that while these businesses may claim to be customer friendly but they are in fact not, for if they were customer friendly they would spend the minimum wage necessary to allow you to speak to an actual person who actually may know something.
Then again.
You know it’s definitely a Monday when you are finally allowed to speak directly to an actual person at the number you dial for your internet provider and you find that the person to whom you are speaking is in a different country altogether and you try desperately to remain polite, because you really need assistance getting back online, as you turn up your volume and listen as intently as possible and still have to have everything repeated at least three times in order to understand through the accent what is being said, all the while trying to figure out whether the other person is just a genius at understanding your accent or are they just getting lucky at their attempts in interpreting what you are trying to get assistance with or are they simply helping you with a problem which is not actually your problem.
(At this point, the vote could go in any direction, however the odds were heavy in favor of selection number three.)
You definitely know it’s a Monday when the physical person on the other end of your phone call to your internet service provider finally advises you that your number is a part of a “group outage” that began at approximately 9:47am causing you to snort with the insane laughter of one who is beginning to feel the slide over into the land of Insane Monday because you have been attempting to get onto the internet since 8:30am and it is now 10:12am and you were on hold and talking to animated voice machines from other countries for the last 36 minutes of your morning before you even had the opportunity to attempt to decipher the accent from the other end of the planet.
You definitely know it’s a Monday when the physical person on the other end of your phone call to your internet service provider advises you that the “group outage” is expected to be corrected by 2pm and, if it is not connected back up at the time that your day is two-thirds over and you've yet to accomplish anything remotely resembling catching up from last week's vacation days, to please give them a call back and allow them the opportunity to help you further which finally snaps the small modicum of control that you still had in your grasp as you snidely question aloud to the individual around the earth in another country who may or may not be understanding a bit of what you are trying to say the fact that that means that you will not be able to complete any work on your internet based programming, thus causing a standstill in your work production for another four hours and the physical person’s response becomes suspiciously similar to that of the animated voice machine you originally spoke with at the beginning of your phone call when they reply “that is correct however please call us back if your service is not connected after 2pm and thank you so much for calling AT&T and we look forward to continuing to help you in the future.”
Yeah. Right.
You definitely know it’s a Monday when you decide that they may take away your internet for a time but that doesn’t stop the words from coming. You just have to be more creative in getting them down and saving them until they can be posted.
And with the posting of the words, the frustration can be released.
And with the release of the frustration, harmony can be restored.
And with harmony restored, the rest of Monday can be faced.
And you know it’s definitely a Monday when you decide to relax and “go with the flow”, attempting to get other work done that is not internet based but your first post insane conversation with internet provider phone call is from an individual wishing to come visit your building, to see about an apartment for their elderly parent, that is hopelessly lost and needing assistance and they don’t seem to understand the straightforward, simple directions that you have given out for the last 9-1/2 years to everyone else that has been able to follow them without trouble and you finally try to assist by looking up where they think they are located in relation to where you are at that exact moment in order to perhaps give even more specific directions, only to find that they are sitting in the parking lot on the west side of the same church you share a parking lot with on the east side.
You know it’s definitely a Monday when all you can do is lay your head on your desk and laugh.
And laugh.
And laugh.
You definitely know it’s a Monday when the physical person on the other end of your phone call to your internet service provider finally advises you that your number is a part of a “group outage” that began at approximately 9:47am causing you to snort with the insane laughter of one who is beginning to feel the slide over into the land of Insane Monday because you have been attempting to get onto the internet since 8:30am and it is now 10:12am and you were on hold and talking to animated voice machines from other countries for the last 36 minutes of your morning before you even had the opportunity to attempt to decipher the accent from the other end of the planet.
You definitely know it’s a Monday when the physical person on the other end of your phone call to your internet service provider advises you that the “group outage” is expected to be corrected by 2pm and, if it is not connected back up at the time that your day is two-thirds over and you've yet to accomplish anything remotely resembling catching up from last week's vacation days, to please give them a call back and allow them the opportunity to help you further which finally snaps the small modicum of control that you still had in your grasp as you snidely question aloud to the individual around the earth in another country who may or may not be understanding a bit of what you are trying to say the fact that that means that you will not be able to complete any work on your internet based programming, thus causing a standstill in your work production for another four hours and the physical person’s response becomes suspiciously similar to that of the animated voice machine you originally spoke with at the beginning of your phone call when they reply “that is correct however please call us back if your service is not connected after 2pm and thank you so much for calling AT&T and we look forward to continuing to help you in the future.”
Yeah. Right.
You definitely know it’s a Monday when you decide that they may take away your internet for a time but that doesn’t stop the words from coming. You just have to be more creative in getting them down and saving them until they can be posted.
And with the posting of the words, the frustration can be released.
And with the release of the frustration, harmony can be restored.
And with harmony restored, the rest of Monday can be faced.
And you know it’s definitely a Monday when you decide to relax and “go with the flow”, attempting to get other work done that is not internet based but your first post insane conversation with internet provider phone call is from an individual wishing to come visit your building, to see about an apartment for their elderly parent, that is hopelessly lost and needing assistance and they don’t seem to understand the straightforward, simple directions that you have given out for the last 9-1/2 years to everyone else that has been able to follow them without trouble and you finally try to assist by looking up where they think they are located in relation to where you are at that exact moment in order to perhaps give even more specific directions, only to find that they are sitting in the parking lot on the west side of the same church you share a parking lot with on the east side.
You know it’s definitely a Monday when all you can do is lay your head on your desk and laugh.
And laugh.
And laugh.
Oh ... btw ... the internet came back online at 1:22pm, signifying that I should continue to laugh and accept the small blessings. I'm going to need them.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Writer's Block or E.D.S. - You Decide
It's been awhile since I've written anything.
Seriously.
With the exception of a blogparty I threw on TVGuide on March 1st, and the subsequent "answers" post, I haven't posted anything new in over a month.
I can't give a really reason as to why ... it's not as though I've been sick, traveling, extremely busy at work, bailing water from my living room after flooding waters, or anything like that. Actually, I seem to write just fine as I make my way through those chaotic parts of my life. Were things too calm? Nope. That wasn't it either.
I'm not sure how it happened, but I think I came down with a case of "Writer's Block" and let me tell you, it sucks.
Totally.
I write all day long for work. What is so difficult about this? This should be easy ... it's personal. It's fun. There's no pressure and it's not like I don't get ideas all through the day ... I now have a folder and a notebook that I keep jotting little ideas down in, planning to write. I come home eager ... tonight will be the night I will break the block and get back to the business of putting thought to words in a co-herent and hopefully pleasing manner.
Car pulls into driveway and I'm out. Thoughts are rambling through my head. I'm ready.
Computer boots up while I check out the kitchen to forage for something edible to curb the appetite.
AVG runs it's scans, AIM tries unsuccessfully to log me in, and Messenger logs me in and tells me whether my friends are online and how much mail has accumulated during the day. Meanwhile, I'm in the back of the house not listening to my computer as I change my clothes and once again give praise for the comfort of sweats and t-shirts and try to locate a pair of socks that no longer have a hole in them.
Back to the computer, I close all these little informative windows and pull up the internet, checking email and responding to the messages that have come into my mailbox during the last couple hours. Then I check my "junk mail" in case something has been caught in my filters besides the various TVG playrooms, alerting me to the hi-jinx of the inmates who wander about there. When I open the junkmail to over 100 messages from these playrooms, all from the one day, I figure it wouldn't be a bad thing to run over and see what is now burning down, or being blasted by fireworks. (And if this sentence makes no sense whatsoever, I invite you over to my sanitarium at TVGuide. People laugh and think I'm kidding when I talk about my inmates and their mischief.)
Worn out from reading the insanity in my sanitarium, I feel the need to wander back to my kitchen and warm some water for a little pot of tea to calm my nerves, to help me compose myself to write.
Back I come to the computer with my grandmother's pot full of some evening tea. I'm ready. I have thoughts brimming. I am good to go.
Oh. Look. The remote. Is there something on television that I feel the need to watch? I better check ... heaven forbid I miss something. There might be a game show or a reality show that I need to flip the channel past. There might be an episode of David Caruso posing with hand on hip as he pulls off his sunglasses and utters "Ma'm ... Ma'm, here's what we're going to do, Ma'm" while the producers of this highly rated monstrosity let it spin off into yet another montage of speedboats and other actors wasting their talents by posing in ridiculously expensive clothing.
Nope. I'm not bitter about this waste of airtime being lauded and the fact that Supernatural has to fight for every fan it gains when it has more talent, good writing, and overall production quality in 10 minutes than the other show has in a month of episodes. Nope. Not bitter at all. Huh-uh.
What was I talking about?
Oh. Yeah. Writer's block.
Well, it's getting late but I'm in the mood to write. I'm wanting to write. I have words that are ready to burst out. I pull up a new sheet of Word, I begin to get started. I've typed a sentence. Woohoo! Oh, wait. That sentence isn't how I wanted to start this. I'm sure that I can do better.
Let me think on it.
Is that the book I was looking for last week sitting underneath the table by the couch?
It is! I've been looking for that. I wonder what happens next? Hmm. Maybe I could read for just a bit and then I'll be ready to do a bit of writing. Though not as much as I'd planned, but still ... a little is better than nothing, right?
... 2 hours later ...
Crap! I was supposed to be in bed an hour ago! But wait! I'm having an epiphany. Let me just get these dishes washed up and I'll just sacrifice some sleep and get this thought written down. Who messed up all these dishes? *sigh* I should go ahead and fix my lunch for tomorrow, otherwise I'll be running late in the morning again. Then I'm going to finish a bit of computer time.
Open up document again. Erase starting line. Compose another one. No ... that doesn't sound right. Maybe I'm just not in the right mood tonight. Guess I'll try again tomorrow night.
Writer's block.
I don't think I have writer's block. I have EDS ... Easily Distracted Syndrome.
Does anyone know if there's a medication for this? I'd contact my doctor about it, but I'm afraid she's going to want me to write down the symptoms and who knows where that could lead.
Seriously.
With the exception of a blogparty I threw on TVGuide on March 1st, and the subsequent "answers" post, I haven't posted anything new in over a month.
I can't give a really reason as to why ... it's not as though I've been sick, traveling, extremely busy at work, bailing water from my living room after flooding waters, or anything like that. Actually, I seem to write just fine as I make my way through those chaotic parts of my life. Were things too calm? Nope. That wasn't it either.
I'm not sure how it happened, but I think I came down with a case of "Writer's Block" and let me tell you, it sucks.
Totally.
I write all day long for work. What is so difficult about this? This should be easy ... it's personal. It's fun. There's no pressure and it's not like I don't get ideas all through the day ... I now have a folder and a notebook that I keep jotting little ideas down in, planning to write. I come home eager ... tonight will be the night I will break the block and get back to the business of putting thought to words in a co-herent and hopefully pleasing manner.
Car pulls into driveway and I'm out. Thoughts are rambling through my head. I'm ready.
Computer boots up while I check out the kitchen to forage for something edible to curb the appetite.
AVG runs it's scans, AIM tries unsuccessfully to log me in, and Messenger logs me in and tells me whether my friends are online and how much mail has accumulated during the day. Meanwhile, I'm in the back of the house not listening to my computer as I change my clothes and once again give praise for the comfort of sweats and t-shirts and try to locate a pair of socks that no longer have a hole in them.
Back to the computer, I close all these little informative windows and pull up the internet, checking email and responding to the messages that have come into my mailbox during the last couple hours. Then I check my "junk mail" in case something has been caught in my filters besides the various TVG playrooms, alerting me to the hi-jinx of the inmates who wander about there. When I open the junkmail to over 100 messages from these playrooms, all from the one day, I figure it wouldn't be a bad thing to run over and see what is now burning down, or being blasted by fireworks. (And if this sentence makes no sense whatsoever, I invite you over to my sanitarium at TVGuide. People laugh and think I'm kidding when I talk about my inmates and their mischief.)
Worn out from reading the insanity in my sanitarium, I feel the need to wander back to my kitchen and warm some water for a little pot of tea to calm my nerves, to help me compose myself to write.
Back I come to the computer with my grandmother's pot full of some evening tea. I'm ready. I have thoughts brimming. I am good to go.
Oh. Look. The remote. Is there something on television that I feel the need to watch? I better check ... heaven forbid I miss something. There might be a game show or a reality show that I need to flip the channel past. There might be an episode of David Caruso posing with hand on hip as he pulls off his sunglasses and utters "Ma'm ... Ma'm, here's what we're going to do, Ma'm" while the producers of this highly rated monstrosity let it spin off into yet another montage of speedboats and other actors wasting their talents by posing in ridiculously expensive clothing.
Nope. I'm not bitter about this waste of airtime being lauded and the fact that Supernatural has to fight for every fan it gains when it has more talent, good writing, and overall production quality in 10 minutes than the other show has in a month of episodes. Nope. Not bitter at all. Huh-uh.
What was I talking about?
Oh. Yeah. Writer's block.
Well, it's getting late but I'm in the mood to write. I'm wanting to write. I have words that are ready to burst out. I pull up a new sheet of Word, I begin to get started. I've typed a sentence. Woohoo! Oh, wait. That sentence isn't how I wanted to start this. I'm sure that I can do better.
Let me think on it.
Is that the book I was looking for last week sitting underneath the table by the couch?
It is! I've been looking for that. I wonder what happens next? Hmm. Maybe I could read for just a bit and then I'll be ready to do a bit of writing. Though not as much as I'd planned, but still ... a little is better than nothing, right?
... 2 hours later ...
Crap! I was supposed to be in bed an hour ago! But wait! I'm having an epiphany. Let me just get these dishes washed up and I'll just sacrifice some sleep and get this thought written down. Who messed up all these dishes? *sigh* I should go ahead and fix my lunch for tomorrow, otherwise I'll be running late in the morning again. Then I'm going to finish a bit of computer time.
Open up document again. Erase starting line. Compose another one. No ... that doesn't sound right. Maybe I'm just not in the right mood tonight. Guess I'll try again tomorrow night.
Writer's block.
I don't think I have writer's block. I have EDS ... Easily Distracted Syndrome.
Does anyone know if there's a medication for this? I'd contact my doctor about it, but I'm afraid she's going to want me to write down the symptoms and who knows where that could lead.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Valentine's Shopping
Happy Valentine's Day!Or ...
As a friend of mine says ... Happy Single Awareness Day!
Some people spend the evening cuddled with a honey or out for a nice dinner or some other romantic/fun activity.
Me?
I was at the grocery store. Oh. Yeah. It was me and my paycheck romancing in the frozen food section over which Ben & Jerry's flavor was going to be for tonight's episode of Supernatural. (I went with Phish Food. It's a quirky little flavor and tonight's ep, Mystery Spot is supposed to be a quirky fun episode.)
Actually ... I indulged myself and went to my favorite local grocery store instead of the low price national chain store that I usually go to when I need to get more than just a few things. I thought I'd be okay. I had a list. I'd made a list of everything I want to prepare this next weekend/week and I could stick to my list. Right??? Yeah ... so ... needless to say, I succumbed to the impulse buy ... more than once.
Is it my fault that the bananas looked so beautifully yellow and yummy, even though my kitchen is stocked with grapes and apples already?
Is it my fault that it is supposed to be a lovely 31 degrees tomorrow after enjoying the tropical breezes of 68 degrees today - therefore enhancing my craving for homemade chicken noodles ... meaning I had to get the ingredients to create the object of my craving?
Is it my fault that after how many weeks (4 to be exact) they finally decided to stock my favorite sourdough english muffins, necessitating the purchase of two packages (one to have out and one for the deep freeze)?
Is it my fault that this is the store that carries one of my favorite brands of tea and they just HAPPENED to have my favorite blueberry flavor that I only had one more bag of left?
I'm telling you ... impulse buys ... they could really hurt a girl's budget. So ... when indulging in the impulse buying, it is wise to keep an eye on the bottom line. For instance ... the item I got that was 2 for $2.00 that rang up at $1.52 each. Hey!! That's my $1.04! You can't have it. Took them 10 minutes to track down that price check, but that $1.04 paid for ... ummm ... half of the bananas I bought impulsively!
sigh.
I'm hopeless.
No ... actually ... this is where the hopeless person part comes in ... I have just spent an hour at the grocery store. I have re-stocked my kitchen and have the supplies to prepare just about anything I want to eat.
So, of course you know what I did for dinner? I stopped on the way home and picked up a Subway sandwich.
To go with my Phish Food ice cream.
Happy Single Awareness Day, indeed.
Thank goodness it's Thursday ... atleast I can honestly say that I spent Valentine's day with a couple of good looking men. Of course I'm on my couch in my flannel jammies and they're on my television screen ... but hey!
We all know I've got a great imagination.
Friday, February 1, 2008
How to Raise the Pharmacist's Eyebrows
The company I work for has a wonderful benefit for it's employees called a Flexible Spending Plan. If you have it, you understand what I mean. If you don't, it's very simple to explain. Over the course of a year, employees can have a certain amount (of their choice) withheld from each paycheck, pre-tax. During the year, as medical expenses are paid out of the employee's pocket, they are able to send in the receipts and they are reimbursed those out of pocket expenses from their plan. I look at it as a medical savings account. The really nice thing is that if you have a big expense, you can still be reimbursed from your account - even if all the funds have not been collected yet.
There is, however, a drawback. If you don't use the funds by the end of the year ... you loose them.
The end of the year for my plan is actually January 31st.
At 6:30pm on January 31st, I had $73.00 left in my account.
Well ... obviously that won't do! But what to get? I've done the doctor co-pays, the antibiotic refills, the doctor hasn't written my new script for allergy meds so that one's out, I've got new glasses, ordered new contacts, seen the eye doctor ... what else is left? (Don't say dentist - we're not going there right now!)
You know ... I'll admit that sometimes, I don't always hear things. It's okay, I'll freely admit that ... but when I told my plan administrator my dilemma and she asked me if I had stocked my medicine cabinet yet, I went silent.
"What are you talking about?"
"Aspirin, over the counter meds, band-aids ... anything medical."
"Since when could we do this?"
"Since all year ... I told you last January when we resigned you up."
"No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did."
--- Um ...I'll save you from a replay of this part. ---"Anything medical?"
"Yep. Anything medical - just not vitamins."
Okie doke.
I head to my local pharmacy.
I pick up a basket.
Mega-mondo size of ibuprofen? Check!
OTC allergy stuff? Check!
Cough syrup? Check!
Cough drops? Check!
Well, that took care of $20. Let's head over to the band-aid aisle!
Do you know how inexpensive boxes of band-aids really are?? Do you know it's even more difficult when the whole blasted aisle is ON SALE! The one time I don't actually need it to be.
After 20 minutes of checking out the various brands and sizes and selections, I began to fill my basket ... adding in my head, working towards spending that remaining $53.00.
I have gauze pads and first aid tape. I have large band-aids, small band-aids, flexible band-aids for knuckles and fingertips. I have waterproof band-aids and clear band-aids. I have butterfly strips. I have first aid cream, a new tube of Neosporin, a new tube of Benedryl anti itch. I have sterile eye wash and sterile wipes.
I got everything I could think of and took it to the pharmacy counter. As the girl rang up my purchase (came to $74.26, I figured I could afford the $1.26), she kept looking at me kinda funny, but didn't say anything. Never one to stay completely silent, I told her that I was stocking up my cabinet and then jokingly said that I'd have to find a bigger cabinet to keep everything in. That's when she pointed to the bottom shelf of the aisle I'd been standing in for the last 20 minutes as I made my selections.
There, for all to find and see, are first-aid kits ... already put together!
But wait ... surely I have gotten a better assortment of products? Nope. Not really. Actually, the large kit that actually weighed in at a cost of $50 had more band-aid sizes than I did AND it had an ace bandage included. I didn't get an ace bandage.
But I've got a jumbo box of flexible knuckle band-aids.
For someone who frequently looses the skin on her knuckles to evil file cabinets, I think this works out just fine for me.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Kitchen Confession
Psst.Come closer.
I have a confession to make.
Are you listening?
I absolutely adore getting new kitchen gadgets. New kitchen appliances can make my head spin with happiness.
Last year my delight was extreme when I discovered my Hamilton Beach toaster. I couldn't get home fast enough to toss my little Rival toaster out to the garage sale box and plug in my new beauty.
She's red!
Can it get any better? Oh yes, it can. This beautiful toaster has a little tray underneath to clean out those pesky crumbs, she does bagels and english muffins, and the uniqueness of her angled top is simply beautiful to behold.
Yes, appliances are such fun to use. My breadmaker is my weekend treat. My Mickey Mouse sandwich maker is guaranteed to bring a smile to anyone eating a grilled cheese sandwich. My little Sunbeam Oskar is old but still chops and dices like the pro that it has always been.
A journey to my parents house brings a smile when it includes a trip to The Kitchen Collection outlet shop. My paper thin chopping surface, decorated in apples is such fun. My spoonulas are tested to 450 degrees and I use them religiously. My small metal colander (in red!!) is so cunning and useful.
The problem with my little obession is that I don't always have the funds to allow myself to go crazy. Probably a good thing. I have my list going though ... a new griddle to replace the one that finally died for usage last year (it was only 20 years old - it had a good life) ... and electric skillet to replace the one that has decided it no longer wishes to be non-stick (an unpardonable appliance offense) ... a standing mixer (Kitchen Aid - if I'm going to do it, I'm going to do it right) ... I could continue but I don't wish to appear too overly obsessive.
Anyhow ... always being on the outlook for something new to add to my kitchen fun ... imagine my delight when this morning I sit down to watch America's Test Kitchens. Not only have I now learned how to make the perfect scrambled egg, I have also added the Calphalon Large Nylon Slotted Spatula to my list of things that I "simply have to have". At $4.99, it should easily fit into my budget. Now ... about that Kitchen Aid standing mixer ... do I get it in red to match the toaster and colander or should I get it in green as an accent?
Decisions, decisions, decisions.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
2008 Begins - Bickersons, Buffy, and Folding Towels
12:00 amA bright start to a new year, right?
Oh. Yeah.
Fireworks sounding outside, glasses clinking and wishes for a new year joyfully shared inside. The ending to a fun evening.
12:30 am
Kitchen is cleaned up, friends have gone home, girlies are in jammies ... I'm in my jammies. A perfect time to close down the house and begin the new year with a good night's sleep, right?
Oh. Yeah.
12:45 am
Realization has set in that girlies will not be settling down any time soon. I've told you about the Bickersons before, right?
Oh. Yeah.
This time it was the twins ... plus the added bonus of their older sister. The back and forth sensations went something like this:
Oldest one vs. middle one.
Middle one vs youngest one.
Youngest one vs. oldest one.
It was a round robin of laughter and bickering ... one girlie is busy with a Christmas present of scrapbooking - seemingly peaceful, but with small comments egging one or the other of her sisters on. There's another one who is busy replaying (and replaying ... and replaying ... oh! and did I mention replaying?) a single song from the High School Musical 2 to the delight (and I use the word sarcastically) of her oldest sister. Then there is the oldest sister, who has decided on a late night snack and sitting next to me chattering (while I am attempting to pull a moment of quiet around me by reading a few emails & responding) and begging me to make the one stop the constant replays. I suggest other songs. Soon we are replaying all of the songs from HSM2 ... ALL OF THEM. And the bickering resumes.
"She's driving me nuts."
"She won't leave me alone."
"She took my place."
"She's making rude noises."
I won't go on. Let's just say that after an hour of this, exhaustion is setting in and I've decided to take a more active ... ie. assertive ... role in herding the Bickerson's to bed.
However, before I have the strength to do so ... a moment alone is needed.
I head back to my bedroom and begin to fold some towels, enjoying the quiet of my room and the mundane routine of simply folding towels. Unfortunately, I forgot that I have this internal magnet that doesn't attract just one girl, it attracts them all. This magnet works whether I'm in the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom, or the bathroom. Ah ... the joys!
Shortly after a couple of towels are folded, one girlie arrives and plunks herself behind me on the bed. Another towel, another girlie arrives singing along with a song on her MP3 player. This is always interesting, because ... of course ... all those around are hearing is the sound of her voice, not the background music. This particular song is a popular one at our house ... it is a song from that critically acclaimed, wildly popular show - Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Musical. My girlies know the episode and music by heart and now, they have the songs on their MP3 players.
Another towel and enter the third girlie, who ... upon hearing what her sister is singing ... doesn't just chime in, but goes to get her MP3 player so they can time it to listen and sing at the same time.
My new year began with friends ... had a bout of The Bickersons ... and soon became a seranade of "I've Got a Feeling" (without background music) by my three girlies as I folded towels and realized it was almost two in the morning.
2008 ... It began with the end of a party and the continuation of our every day life - the Bickersons, Buffy, and folding towels. More than that it began with all of us being healthy and happy.
What better way to begin?
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
The Things I Do
*shakes head slowly*
*sighs*
Okay ... I wandered over to LiveJournal a couple weeks ago and found where all my inmates had been disappearing to. All of them seemed to have these lists called "Meme" that I truly enjoyed reading. Unfortunately, I also had to mention how much I enjoyed them and now I've been "tagged".
Great googly-oogly!
*squares shoulders*
*ponders life*
Alright ... it's a bit later than promised but life intervened.
For Koosh and Toady and Rap ... and all my other inmates:
10 Weird Things or Little Known Facts
by: CindyRose (aka. The Keeper)
1) I can read upside down as easily as I can read right side up. Yep ... I can sit across the desk (or table or counter or anything else) and read the same thing that the other person is reading - book, memo, letter, employee evaluation ... If you don't want me to read it, don't just lay it on the other side - you'd better cover it.
2) I can write upside down and backwards. It's a talent, what can I say? There's a restaurant here in town that covers their tables with brown paper and provides crayons. I can write my name and other words upside down and backwards so that the person across the table can read them the right way. (Oh ... refer to #1 for how the person across the table writes back and I can read it.)
3) When I was a senior in high school, my best friend and I spent each Saturday night toilet papering the trees and yards of people in our youth group. We actually had a list of people WANTING us to "T-P" their yards and we did so with the permission. Probably because we would always leave a baked treat behind - pie, cookies, brownies, etc. - for those we T-P'd.
4) The first movie I remember seeing in a theater was Mary Poppins. It was at Radio City Music Hall in New York City and my clearest memory of the day was the big red cushy seats that rocked and the way the big red curtain parted to show the screen for the movie.
5) I celebrated my 24th birthday in Kauai, Hawaii at the Coco Palms Resort where Elvis filmed Blue Hawaii.
6) When I am angry or frustrated, I clean. When I am hurt or sad, I bake. When I am angry and hurt, I clean and I bake at the same time.
7) I love to bake from scratch and rarely use mixes.
8) One of my long time favorite movies is Jumpin' Jack Flash with Whoopi Goldberg. When it first came out, I lived in Austin and a friend of mine bought me a pair of yellow hi-top Converse tennis shoes because I loved Whoopi's character - Terry Doolittle - and her shoes. (I already had a pair of red hi-top Converse.)
9) When I was in college I kept a kitten in my dorm room for two weeks. She was so tiny, she fit in the pocket of my robe and we would visit my friends and everyone played with her. Oh ... did I mention that I lived directly above my dorm director. She never knew a thing. Where did the kitten go? We put it in a box and put it outside my dorm director's apartment door. She loved it and kept it, putting up signs trying to figure out where it came from.
10) I have a tattoo. It was my reward to myself for losing 100 pounds a couple years ago. It is a Celtic braid with small white daisies in the large loops and goes around my right ankle like an ankle bracelet. I love it!
Okay ... there you have it. Ten things about me that you may or may not have known.
Whew!
As for the song listing ... nope ... ya'll aren't getting that one out of me. One list per beg is all you get!
*sighs*
Okay ... I wandered over to LiveJournal a couple weeks ago and found where all my inmates had been disappearing to. All of them seemed to have these lists called "Meme" that I truly enjoyed reading. Unfortunately, I also had to mention how much I enjoyed them and now I've been "tagged".
Great googly-oogly!
*squares shoulders*
*ponders life*
Alright ... it's a bit later than promised but life intervened.
For Koosh and Toady and Rap ... and all my other inmates:
10 Weird Things or Little Known Facts
by: CindyRose (aka. The Keeper)
1) I can read upside down as easily as I can read right side up. Yep ... I can sit across the desk (or table or counter or anything else) and read the same thing that the other person is reading - book, memo, letter, employee evaluation ... If you don't want me to read it, don't just lay it on the other side - you'd better cover it.
2) I can write upside down and backwards. It's a talent, what can I say? There's a restaurant here in town that covers their tables with brown paper and provides crayons. I can write my name and other words upside down and backwards so that the person across the table can read them the right way. (Oh ... refer to #1 for how the person across the table writes back and I can read it.)
3) When I was a senior in high school, my best friend and I spent each Saturday night toilet papering the trees and yards of people in our youth group. We actually had a list of people WANTING us to "T-P" their yards and we did so with the permission. Probably because we would always leave a baked treat behind - pie, cookies, brownies, etc. - for those we T-P'd.
4) The first movie I remember seeing in a theater was Mary Poppins. It was at Radio City Music Hall in New York City and my clearest memory of the day was the big red cushy seats that rocked and the way the big red curtain parted to show the screen for the movie.
5) I celebrated my 24th birthday in Kauai, Hawaii at the Coco Palms Resort where Elvis filmed Blue Hawaii.
6) When I am angry or frustrated, I clean. When I am hurt or sad, I bake. When I am angry and hurt, I clean and I bake at the same time.
7) I love to bake from scratch and rarely use mixes.
8) One of my long time favorite movies is Jumpin' Jack Flash with Whoopi Goldberg. When it first came out, I lived in Austin and a friend of mine bought me a pair of yellow hi-top Converse tennis shoes because I loved Whoopi's character - Terry Doolittle - and her shoes. (I already had a pair of red hi-top Converse.)
9) When I was in college I kept a kitten in my dorm room for two weeks. She was so tiny, she fit in the pocket of my robe and we would visit my friends and everyone played with her. Oh ... did I mention that I lived directly above my dorm director. She never knew a thing. Where did the kitten go? We put it in a box and put it outside my dorm director's apartment door. She loved it and kept it, putting up signs trying to figure out where it came from.
10) I have a tattoo. It was my reward to myself for losing 100 pounds a couple years ago. It is a Celtic braid with small white daisies in the large loops and goes around my right ankle like an ankle bracelet. I love it!
Okay ... there you have it. Ten things about me that you may or may not have known.
Whew!
As for the song listing ... nope ... ya'll aren't getting that one out of me. One list per beg is all you get!
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Elf-Insanity
I realize that it's not quite yet Thanksgiving ...
I understand that it's a bit early to send out Christmas greetings ...
However I stumbled upon something that I can't wait to share. This is that present that cannot be wrapped and it simply cannot wait.
For anyone who needs some Christmas cheer, I give you ...
The Kripke and his Three Elves
(may they forgive me)
I understand that it's a bit early to send out Christmas greetings ...
However I stumbled upon something that I can't wait to share. This is that present that cannot be wrapped and it simply cannot wait.
For anyone who needs some Christmas cheer, I give you ...
The Kripke and his Three Elves
(may they forgive me)
Thursday, November 15, 2007
It's Thursday, So It Must Be Supernatural
I changed my cell phone message.
It was time.
Or atleast, everyone seemed to think so. Something about the fact that my message referred to the fact that it was new and if I wasn't answering, it was because I wasn't used to it and couldn't find it. Since that message was over 6 months old, I was told that I couldn't blame the "newness factor" for not being able to answer my phone.
So, I changed it. This is what I changed it to:
"Hi, this is Cindy and I can't find the phone, or ... well, if it's Thursday night, I'll be honest, it's Supernatural's new season and I'm not even looking. So. Please leave me your name and number at the tone and I promise I will give you a call back, because I'd really like to talk to you. So. Thanks for calling and have a wonderful day - and - if it's Thursday night, turn on your TV to CW and watch Supernatural, it's an excellent show! Bye!"
Go ahead. You can laugh. I laugh too. It was a spontaneous change as I was driving down the road on a Thursday night, anticipating the new episode I was going to watch that evening. I'm also honest enough with myself to recognize my obsession. I don't mind. (We also don't need to discuss the number of times I used the word "so". It's my grammatical weakness. Atleast it's not "uh".)
Why am I sharing this? Believe me, it's not because I feel the need to share my insanity ... although, I guess I am. It's actually so you will understand when you hear about this call I had the other night with the Tulsa County Sheriff's Department.
I was actually on my cell phone the other night, talking with a friend and another call came in. Since the Caller ID said "Private", I chose not to interrupt my call but let the second caller fall to voice mail. After disconnecting with my friend, I found there was a voicemail message. So, I listened.
It was a message from a Deputy with the TCSD, letting me (the number he had called) know that he was trying to deliver a protective order, and I (the number he had called) was not at the place where I was to meet him.
Hmm. Since I wasn't working on any protective orders, nor could I fathom why anyone would serve one on me, I figured they had the wrong number. In situations like this, I feel it's the right thing to do, to call the person back and let them know that they had the wrong number. So I did. I called the TCSD number that he left and spoke with the Deputy. I explained the situation and that he had been given the incorrect number. We talked for a minute and then, as we prepared to say our farewells, he said:
"I know it's not Thursday night, but enjoy your show when it comes on."
I had to laugh. The Deputy laughed also. He told me that he always has to work on Thursday nights and had never seen it. I told him that the next time he has a free Thursday night, he really should try to see it and he said:
"I'll be off on Thanksgiving, so I'll be sure to check it out that night."
Oh yeah!!! Score one for cellphone message advertising.
I wonder if the show has a budget for that. Could someone get me The Kripke's number? I'll leave him a message and find out.
Meanwhile, it's Thursday night. There's a new episode. So ... you can call but I won't be answering ... enjoy the message!
It was time.
Or atleast, everyone seemed to think so. Something about the fact that my message referred to the fact that it was new and if I wasn't answering, it was because I wasn't used to it and couldn't find it. Since that message was over 6 months old, I was told that I couldn't blame the "newness factor" for not being able to answer my phone.
So, I changed it. This is what I changed it to:
"Hi, this is Cindy and I can't find the phone, or ... well, if it's Thursday night, I'll be honest, it's Supernatural's new season and I'm not even looking. So. Please leave me your name and number at the tone and I promise I will give you a call back, because I'd really like to talk to you. So. Thanks for calling and have a wonderful day - and - if it's Thursday night, turn on your TV to CW and watch Supernatural, it's an excellent show! Bye!"
Go ahead. You can laugh. I laugh too. It was a spontaneous change as I was driving down the road on a Thursday night, anticipating the new episode I was going to watch that evening. I'm also honest enough with myself to recognize my obsession. I don't mind. (We also don't need to discuss the number of times I used the word "so". It's my grammatical weakness. Atleast it's not "uh".)
Why am I sharing this? Believe me, it's not because I feel the need to share my insanity ... although, I guess I am. It's actually so you will understand when you hear about this call I had the other night with the Tulsa County Sheriff's Department.
I was actually on my cell phone the other night, talking with a friend and another call came in. Since the Caller ID said "Private", I chose not to interrupt my call but let the second caller fall to voice mail. After disconnecting with my friend, I found there was a voicemail message. So, I listened.
It was a message from a Deputy with the TCSD, letting me (the number he had called) know that he was trying to deliver a protective order, and I (the number he had called) was not at the place where I was to meet him.
Hmm. Since I wasn't working on any protective orders, nor could I fathom why anyone would serve one on me, I figured they had the wrong number. In situations like this, I feel it's the right thing to do, to call the person back and let them know that they had the wrong number. So I did. I called the TCSD number that he left and spoke with the Deputy. I explained the situation and that he had been given the incorrect number. We talked for a minute and then, as we prepared to say our farewells, he said:
"I know it's not Thursday night, but enjoy your show when it comes on."
I had to laugh. The Deputy laughed also. He told me that he always has to work on Thursday nights and had never seen it. I told him that the next time he has a free Thursday night, he really should try to see it and he said:
"I'll be off on Thanksgiving, so I'll be sure to check it out that night."
Oh yeah!!! Score one for cellphone message advertising.
I wonder if the show has a budget for that. Could someone get me The Kripke's number? I'll leave him a message and find out.
Meanwhile, it's Thursday night. There's a new episode. So ... you can call but I won't be answering ... enjoy the message!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Decadence or Depravity?
I love chocolate. Anyone who has met me - in real life or virtually - knows this. It's not a hidden fact. Whether it's a bag of M&Ms, a Hershey bar, a slice of pie, a bag of Oreos, a box of Russell Stovers, a homemade brownie, a bon-bon from Godiva or simply, in a moment of desperation for help with a chocolate jonesing - a handful of chocolate chips straight from the bag, I love it. I enjoy it. I savor it. I can make it last. I have a way to make a large 1lb bag of M&Ms last a week - I eat one color a day.White chocolate is good. It doesn't create the craving that regular chocolate does and it doesn't completely satisfy the way regular chocolate does, however it's good. I like it. I enjoy it. More to the point, I don't turn it down when offered.
Dark chocolate is ... in my opinion ... heaven. When they made dark chocolate M&Ms, I felt I had actually gone to heaven. I know that dark chocolate is all the craze now, what with it's lower fat counts and antioxidants, but ask my mom - I was sneaking chocolate chips since I was my girlies age. Dove chocolate was one of the first to package bite size pieces individually. I decided they were my heroes. There's something about dark chocolate that cannot be described, rich and appealing as it's silky smoothness melts in your mouth.
Excuse me, I need to take a moment and have a chocolate break.
One of my favorite movies is "Chocolat" but the reasons for that are a whole different blog and no, it's not just because it includes Johnny Depp. (Although that doesn't hurt.) In the movie, the chocolatier uses a special chili pepper in preparing her chocolate treats. I've always wanted to sample some of them - they look and sound delightful.
Now, in honesty, I must admit I am not a big chocolate ice cream eater. Through the years, my steady favorite has always been a double dip cone - bottom scoop regular chocolate chip and the top scoop mint chocolate chip. Regular, full-on chocolate ice cream just isn't my cup of tea. Unless it's a particularly intense night of Supernatural, and then, I will admit that nothing helps better than Ben & Jerry's Double Chocolate Fudge ice cream. Seriously.
I also tend to have an issue with chocolate pudding. I like it. I do. I will make it and enjoy it. However, again, in all honesty, if it comes to ready made pudding - vanilla is better. It's true. Still, chocolate pudding is something I indulge in from time to time.
Chocolate is a comfort food, a tasty treat, a moment of sinful decadence. It has been and will continue to be something I truly enjoy. In moments of low cash flow, I am content with my M&Ms. When I have saved and can splurge a bit, it will always contain a form of chocolate.
Yet, I have to admit I have found a chocolate that actually repulses me. I have no desire to indulge and the idea of it is repugnant to me. Not due to the taste, for I have not tasted it. I don't plan to, even if the opportunity were ever to arise. There are times when even I, in my chocolatey goodness loving, simply cannot find the justification.
Just last week it was announced on the news that a restaurant in New York City has made it into the Guiness Book of World Records for creating and serving the most expensive chocolate dessert. For $25,000.00 you can have your chocolate mousse-like dessert (see above picture), a blend of some of the most expensive chocolates from around the world, in an edible gold bowl, the pedestal encircled with a gold and diamond bracelet and served with a special gold spoon encrusted with diamonds. (For purchasing the dessert, you get to keep the bracelet and the spoon.)
Now ... I'm not dumb. I realize that the $25,000 isn't just for the chocolate that will be eaten, that a good portion of the cost is for the pedestal bracelet and fancy spoon. Without those, I'm pretty sure the dessert's cost is not going to be $25,000. However, that's not the reason for my being repulsed by the thought of this chocolate.
I simply can't wrap my mind around the thought that anyone ... anyone ... could justify in their minds the fact of spending the amount of money it would take to purchase a car, to purchase a small house, to partially put a child through college on a dessert! The cost of this chocolate is more than many, many people make in a year. My mind cannot wrap itself around any type of reasoning that would justify spending that amount of money for a dessert that takes about 15 to 30 minutes to eat, has no nutritional value, and ... well ... let's face it, doesn't stay with you.
That's not decadence. That's depravity.
My prayer is simple. If fortune were ever to befall me, I pray that I have the intelligence to continue to enjoy my M&Ms and use that money for something a bit more worthwhile.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
