Grin and Baer It

WE ARE Penn State

2011-11-12T16:27:00.001-05:00

I have a confession to make. I went to Penn State. Until last week, this was a positive thing. I have been very surprised by the benefits I receive due to my Penn State degree. I got my first job from a former Penn Stater and I now talk to many employers who say they specifically seek Penn State grads in my field. (I can't speak for other fields, but the engineering program at Penn State is pretty well respected.) As such, many potential clients and competitors are former Penn Staters, and the most common reactions I get when asked about my alma mater are "Oh, I went there too!", and "Oh, my cousin's nephew's best friend went there, do you know him?" (By the way, I do not.)

This week, the reactions have been more along the lines of, "Oh, I'm sorry." As if I had something to do with the terrible news headlines of late. I even considered not replacing my Penn State magnets on the back of my car after I finished washing it today. So then I thought, how can I turn this around? I have no say in whether Penn State decides to donate their ticket sales this week to a charity (though I like the idea). I have no say in whether the head coach deserves the blame for not doing more. Do the citizens of Germany during the 1940's deserve blame for the horrors of the concentration camps? I think there could be debate for either side, but generally, I say they do not deserve the blame, but they should take responsibility for the solution.

This is why I decided to look up a local charity that helps abused children, their parents, and even the abusers. I made a donation "from a Penn State Alum". It is not much, but maybe if everyone does just one positive thing, we can rise above the actions of one jackass and become the erudite members of society we think WE ARE.

And for good measure, I finally decided to post my version of the "Where I'm From Poem" which I revised to reflect my experience at Penn State. (Post your own or add to the comments. The template can be found here.)

WE ARE…

WE ARE from extra long twin sheets, from Chicken Cosmos and Milwakee’s “Beast” Ice.

WE ARE from the East Halls parking lot (icy, barren, it seemed it would take a lifetime to cross it on a cold winter morning).

WE ARE from Mount Nittany, the unhiked state park trails and cornfields surrounding campus.

WE ARE from teapot renditions and dishroom towels, from Louass and Bagg and Boob.

WE ARE from the work study programs and Caps Tournaments.

From “when we grow up we’ll go to Penn State” and “that’s where dad wrote his initials in front of Patee Library.”

WE ARE from “We know god is a Penn State fan because the sky is Blue and White” and using the church next to Beekman’s bagels to point us in the direction of campus.

WE ARE Pittsburgh or Philly, from strip sandwiches, whoopie pies, “Death by Chocolate” and “Peachy Paterno”.

From the stolen block of cheese, and did we mention it was five pounds?, and the racing of the keg across town to Suzanne’s place.

WE ARE from Brodie’s old photo albums, so young, so thin, not knowing we’d remember the days till we’re 40.

WE ARE.....PENN STATE!

No matter how hard I scrubbed, I just couldn't get the spots from those magnets to blend in, so I'm putting them back on. A testament to the rarity of a car wash? Shut up, Constant Reader, I'm trying to make a point.

Paranormal Nuerosis

2011-11-06T08:33:00.002-05:00

A few weeks ago, we flicked through the choices of movies on the Netflix stream and came across "Paranormal Activity". Adam had seen it and said it was good, and I astutely noted that "Paranormal Activity 3" is out, so it must have been decent. (Any sane person, of course, is thinking of "Halloween 14" or whatever they are up to now and realizing the flaw in my logic. The "Sequel Theory" most definitely does not apply to horror films.)

However, I was in the mood for a mystery, and so we watched the movie. It is one of those "Blair Witch" or "Cloverfield" types that are filmed as if they are everyday folks with their home videos, and the actors use their real names. It was pretty good. Believable, but extraordinary.

It's about a girl who has been haunted by a demon, off and on, for most of her life. The demon had not shown itself since she was a pre-teen, but had recently returned now that she was an adult, and she was not going to take it anymore. So she and her fiancee start trying to document the issue. Let's just say, it does not end well.

I didn't think much of it at the time, but, well, the movie has apparently freaked me out. You see, it starts as just some bumps and thuds in the night and a door that creaks as it moves by itself. It only gets worse progressively.

The other night, the furnace kicked on and made a racket as the baseboards tinked and clinked, and then the cat wedged herself through the slightly open creaky basement door and I nearly had a heart attack. I tried to laugh at myself as I got up and very quickly shut the door on the dark and noisy furnacey basement with the potential demon lurking in the shadows.

And it has been happening ever since. I inadvertently brought back a fear of the basement, which I thought I licked in high school. Different basement, same scary darkness.

Next time, we're watching "Tangled".

Quick Question

2011-11-04T19:49:00.000-04:00

Is there a way to tactfully tell a co-worker that his weekly project meeting interferes with your morning poop? Just wondering...

Queueless

2011-10-18T22:01:00.001-04:00

I swear, Netflix is messing with me. I just went to "My Queue" because it sent us a movie that I wanted to see, but is available for download at any time through the streaming option. Basically it sent me something I already had for months, and still hadn't bothered to watch. The thing it sent me before that would have been more at home on my sister's queue. It was some romantic comedy starring Christina Applegate, and the only possible reason I could conger up for its presence in my home was that I liked "Married With Children" when I was younger. I have been known to watch a romantic comedy here and there, but generally it is when my mom or sister has some control over the remote control, and I do not recall ever adding it to my queue.

And no, I don't think Sis got on there and rearranged my selections. I don't even know the password half the time and when I do get through the tight security, I tend to have trouble accessing the Netflix site.

These last two movies were returned after several days of sitting on the counter in limbo.

So I just checked out my queue and there is not a single movie on there that I would like to watch. I do remember putting these horrible choices on there, and continually moving them to the bottom. Worse, I cannot think of a recent movie I would like to see. I am sure there are things out there that I would enjoy.

I went to the "Suggetions For You" section where, I kid you not, the top choices for me are a cartoon about a boy and his magical dog, a comedy special called "Talking Monkeys in Space", and a Nickelodeon TV show aimed at pre-teenage boys in the mid-nineties. I am seriously considering the magic dog, and a nature video about Cuttlefish. You know, the octopi? Come on people, cuttlefish!

I don't know. I did really like "The Adventures of Scott Pilgrim". Maybe I am a cuttlefish kinda gal.

Me Replacement

2011-10-14T21:40:00.000-04:00

OK, I have been watching The Cool TV for hours and apparently it is a channel watched by many many balding men. The "hair replacement" commercial has been on so many times, I just might be tempted to call. Why? You may ask? Well, my hair follicles seem to be in tact, but: I have noticed that the hair replacement tends to be supplemented by weight loss, nose jobs, and changes in eye color. One man in the commercial, and I quote: "After my hair replacement surgery, I felt like a different person."

Go figure.

Cider House Blues

2011-10-11T20:34:00.000-04:00

My apologies, Constant Reader(s). I had the next topic all thought up - as you probably guessed, a continuation of my ever more desperate attempts to reconcile my inconclusive sleep disorder - but I got writers block again. So, the sleep story will have to wait until it is ready to be told. I, apparently, am not in control.

*******************************

Last Thursday, I sat at my desk running calculations on a concrete beam, trying to decide how to support an existing structure while this beam is removed and replaced. Truly, I was deep into it, really focused on my work. Or not.

Suddenly, I realized. I forgot the cider that my Dad had brought last Saturday. This, I surmised, was the explanation for the slightly sweet and slightly sour smell that currently emanated from the interior of my vehicle. Bummer.

I immediately emailed my Dad to tell him. Perhaps he would buy more cider and drive two hours to deliver it. Perhaps we would work out an elaborate Cider Scheme, for I cannot go an entire Fall without this cider. He gets it from his neighbors, who press the apples, add nothing to them, and put the results in gallon jugs at the end of their driveway. This is not grocery store cider. Oh lament, and alas! Surely, he would be as distraught as I was!

"Bummer," he writes back. Yeah.
That's what I thought.

I learned some little known facts this week:

Fact #1. We all know that fermenting cider turns to vinegar. But, do most of you know that fermenting cider that is alternately heated during the day, then cooled down at night, in a thin plastic jug, will produce enough gas to break the jug?

Fact #2. We all know that one can attract more flies with honey than with vinegar. But, it turns out one can attract plenty of flies with vinegar. As I emptied the now half empty jug, a swarm of fruit flies was disturbed from its breeding ground. It was at that point that I officially decided the cider was probably better not to drink.

Fact #3. Breathing in a combination of vinegar and fruit flies is surprisingly less unpleasant than breathing in the smell of the decaying squirrel that got caught under my tire a few years back.

Fact #4. The smell of decaying squirrel pretty much goes away when said squirrel is hosed out. The smell of vinegar lingers for much longer.

Fact #5. The results are inconclusive on the effects of flea and tick shampoo on fruit flies. I think I eradicated more of them by driving around with all four windows open.

Fact #6. The smell of vinegar, wafting through the air via open car windows, attracts bees. Bee #1 will come for an extensive search to find the source of the smell, and finding nothing but a timid human swatting carefully at it with an ice scraper, it will send for a second Bee to aid in the search.

I hate bees.

And I will now have to make a special trip to Pennsylvania, just to get my Cider Fix.

Bummer.

Sleep Study

2011-09-25T08:15:00.001-04:00

I have posted a few times about how I wake up a lot at night, which makes me sleepy during the day. Some days, it is all I can do to get in the door and collapse in my bed when I get home. I feel like I am missing out on my life, because literally, all I do is work and sleep.

I tried a sleep study to determine what the trouble was. This was before I was blogging, so I will relate this story here:

I arrived at the appointed location at the appointed time, 9 PM, with pillow in hand. The website indicated the experience would be similar to a hotel, and I would be able to watch TV or read until I drifted off, so I had also brought a book. Several other people lined the hallway with their pillows.

The place was locked.

We waited in the hall, not speaking much, until a technician finally arrived, out of breath and with keys jingling as he ran. He let us into a waiting room, which, indeed, had a TV. He went to the reception area and fumbled through papers while we nervously chose seats. No one turned on the TV.

The technician called a name, and the very large woman across from me spoke up. He asked her, across the rooms, why she was there. She looked around and then reluctantly announced that she was there to check for sleep apnea. (By the way, this is why all the people, except me, were there. And luckily, I was the last patient to be called, so I did not have to tell everyone and his brother my reason for seeing a doctor.) I still refused to talk across the room like that and just got up to talk to the guy. I was there for the night, but also into the day, to check for narcolepsy. Apparently, his shift would end at 7am, and the lab would be closed again until 9am. So there was an issue. Great.

I was the last one called but the first one to be prepped. They attached about 20 little doo-dads that would monitor my heart rate, breathing rate, brain waves, and a number of other things. He asked how I normally like to sleep. I told him I usually fall asleep on my side in a fetal position.

"Well, not tonight, you're not," he said. "We need patients to sleep on their backs, and not move too much."

He then told me I was all set and I should just call out if I needed anything, because they have an intercom system and a camera in the room. I asked if I could read my book (no TV in the room), and he said I could for a short bit while he prepped another patient. Not exactly the "hotel" atmosphere advertised.

I carefully laid on the cheapo mattress with the scratchy sheets and thin quilt which was provided. I began reading my book, a novel by Stephen King. The technician left and began talking to the gentleman next door. He was thin, but a heavy smoker, and, of course, was there to check for sleep apnea. I heard every word they were saying through the thin walls.

The man next door was complete, and there was relative silence. Another technician had arrived and prepped the other two people. I was still nervous, trying not to move, and reading my book because I was not sleepy. Suddenly, the room filled with the booming voice of the technician who asked me to stop reading and turn out the lights.

Obediently, I clicked the light and tried to sleep. Outside the room, I heard the technicians arguing about who would stay with me until the day shift got in. They both had obligations after work, and so they called a supervisor. Apparently, one of them would need to re-arrange a schedule, because they continued to argue. My pinky finger, which had a sensor clipped to the end like a clothespin, was beginning to throb. I was afraid to move, and I did not like the idea of calling out to the empty room. I listened to the sounds of snoring, coming from the room next door. Faintly, I could hear snores down the hall as well.

I laid in silence, trying to sleep. My pinky hurt. I couldn't move. The snoring was louder. My pinky hurt. Sleep! I tried to will myself. I wondered what time it was. My pinky hurt. The technician was getting a soda from the machine. I couldn't move.

At one point, boomy voice popped into the room, asking if I needed something. I told him about the pinky, and he came in to adjust the sensor, scolding me for not speaking up. He closed the door and I listened to the snoring some more. Sleep! (but don't move.) Sleep, goddammmit! (but stay on your back.) I wondered again how much time was left.

Eventually, I did fall asleep for about 2 hours. The technician came in at 5am to "wake" me, and remove the sensors. He said that since I couldn't sleep, there was no way I had narcolepsy, so I could go home.

"Now?" I said. "I wasn't supposed to be picked up until noon. I didn't bring my car because I am too cheap to pay for parking for that long."

"Well, we don't need to see you for the day study."

Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, and a very sleepy: "Hello?"

"Hi, honey!" I cheerily said. "Can you come pick me up?"

I got home and collapsed into bed, even though I had goo in my hair from some of the doo-dads. I was exhausted after my sleep study, which came back inconclusive due to lack of sleep.

Nature

2011-09-21T19:05:00.000-04:00

It's that time of year when yard work is actually enjoyable. The weather is just perfect - perfect temperature, perfect humidity. And the ground is both wet enough and dry enough to be workable. Adam and I planned to head out and enjoy working the land for an hour or two the other day.

Adam opened the door to the front, which leads to a pleasant little walkway from the drive. There, on the concrete, was "Nature". And not the early scene that sets the mood. No. Not the one that focuses in on a zebra running and then pans out to show the high-grassed meadow and the spectacular sunset, and all the other beautiful zebras racing in the wind.

This was the close up shot of the lioness, pouncing on one of the smaller zebras and pulling the poor creature to the ground.

In this case it was a small garter snake with its jaws wide open, trying to devour a toad. It was quite a site. The snake was small, and its head even smaller. I think the toad had warts bigger than that snake's head. The whole scene reminded me of the Flinstones opening credits when Fred orders a dinosaur rib that tips over his stone-wheeled car. For the toad's part, it seemed to be doing very little to resist being eaten. Occasionally, it would hop, with its new snake attachment just clinging onto its rump. There was no flailing of limbs or slaps to the snake's head. Just a hop. On one hand, we figured, nature should take its course. If this toad was meant to be eaten today, then so be it. On the other hand, it was so sad to see this guy get devoured alive.

Before making a definitive decision, of course, I decided to document the event. I took my turn at nature photography and found that apparently one needs to be more discreet. The snake took one look at the large human pointing a black box in its face, and it slithered away. Somewhere in its little brain, it decided eating animals three times its size was good, but that it should run from animals 100 times its size. I wondered where the cutoff would be.

After the snake slithered away, we went online to determine the type. We wanted to check that the thing wouldn't strike out at our ankles if we proceeded to the yard. After determining that it was harmless, we went to examine the toad, which was sitting in the same position, breathing heavily, and bleeding.

Unfortunately, when we opened the door, the cat took her opportunity to rush outside. She looked at Mr. Toad, and suddenly he got a burst of energy and began hopping away. The cat was nearly on top of him before Adam rescued the poor thing. I am willing to let a snake eat a meal to stay alive, but believe me, our cat does not need food. She would probably have tortured the thing, pulling off limbs and whatnot, then let him to die on our walkway.

We took the cat inside, and there was no further sign of Toad or Snake.

A Letter

2011-09-19T18:40:00.001-04:00

To the Inventor of Skinny Jeans:

I hate you.

Sincerely,

-me (and, presumably, this poor girl.)

My Graine

2011-09-10T15:29:00.000-04:00

I know lots of people who suffer from migraines. Me? I hardly ever get headaches. Though I certainly try to sympathize with my friends, I could only imagine what a very bad headache feels like.

And then Wednesday happened. And kept happening. In fact, I am not sure when it will end.

I woke up thinking I had clenched my jaw all night, because I had tooth pain.
But this was all right. It would just take time to recover.

About 1:30 in the afternoon, a co-worker asked if I had any aspirin, and as I handed him some, I decided to take some myself. The tooth pain was worsening, and I had developed a dull ache above my right eye.
But this was all right. The aspirin would do the trick.

Five o'clock rolled around, and I decided to go to the gym, because that might clear up the sinus blockage or whatever it was. The aspirin didn't seem to do a damn thing, and it was getting a little worse. Also, I began to wonder if there could be a cavity or even an abscess in my lower right wisdom tooth. That would be inconvenient. In the past, going to the gym has either made my headaches go away, or had no effect. I figured it couldn't hurt.

The class at the gym was hard - the power was out all last week due to Hurricane Irene, and all the instructors seemed to assume we all sat on our asses for a week. (Personally, I preferred a completely prone position, complete with fuzzy blanket and teevee.)

I left the gym, felt a bit dizzy. Though the headache was not really a bother during my workout, it had come back. It was about then that I felt like puking. So badly, in fact, that I took the top off my water bottle, because, to paraphrase the infinite wisdom of "Waynes World", Dude, if you're gonna spew, you should have something ready to spew into. The drive home was not good.

As I exited my car, I was hit with smells of the world on a muggy, rainy day. The grass smelled, the air smelled, the garbage can smelled, my body smelled, and my car smelled. I was so sick that ordinarily, I'd have forgotten the throb of my head, but the pain was still there, a piercing myriad of dull pain throughout the right side of my face. I made it inside and turned on a light. Agggh. I had thought the pain couldn't get worse, but I was wrong. I fumbled through the dark house to the bathroom and pretty much laid there until Adam came home, pausing occasionally for unpleasantness.

I told him my theory of the abscessed tooth, and various other far-fetched reasons for my unfortunate predicament. He forced me to take an advil and told me it sounded like a migraine. He dutifully searched the internet and told me the worst thing I could have done when feeling a migraine setting in was go to the gym. As far as triggers, we couldn't think of anything specific, but I had changed my eating habits due to a new diet.

So there you have it folks: eating healthy and working out in moderation are bad for me. I guess I should go back to my beer-slugging pasta fests on the couch.

Also, I apologize to everyone whom I looked down upon, even just a little bit, for missing work or other functions because of a migraine. I had no idea it was more than just a bad headache. Really and truly, this was an all over body ache, focused on the head, but also affecting the stomach, intestines, jaw, upper back and neck, ear, and throat (so far).

Oops, I Think I Borscht'd

2011-09-05T16:11:00.000-04:00

Let's talk a second about one of the banes of my existence: beets.

According to Sara, owner of my CSA (Community Supported Ag) group, "You either love 'em or you hate 'em."

As a kid, we weren't subjected to beets much, so I was more in the "Ain't Never Tried 'Em" group. I got them a few times last year in the share, and they went to waste the first time. As a general rule, I did what I could with my veggies, but I tended to focus first on the ones I was familiar with, second on the ones that smelled and looked good, despite being new to me, and third on the new ones that looked unappealing. Often, by the time I was ready to focus on that third group, a whole new set of veggies had arrived. Beets, as you can see, look like dirty turds and smell slightly better.

Toward the end of the year, I had rustled up a way to introduce myself to beets without making them the star of the show. I found a recipe for a bundt cake that used beets and orange peels to make a "beautifully pink-fleshed cake." I had forgotten, however, that I am not a very good baker.

The reason for this is my willingness to substitute whatever is on hand for whatever I am lacking. I don't recall exactly what I subbed in, but said pinch hitter was not good. Cake #1 went largely to the compost pile out back.

You are right, Constant Reader. One cannot have Cake #1 without Cake #2. This one was prepared for a tailgate and placed next to various more traditional goodies, such as brownies. I do not blame people for their choices. Even I chose the brownies.

Cake #2 did make it back, mostly in tact. But I was so reminiscent of the ickiness of Cake #1, that it eventually joined its predecessor in the compost heap.

This year, I have wasted exactly 4 pounds of beets. And I decided it needs to stop. I ain't down wit' wasting food - or beets. (Anymore.) Besides, I had an absolutely delicious felafel wrap at a local fair, which included beets. They couldn't be all bad.

As a test run, I tried the "Beet and Orange Salad" at Wegman's (a grocery chain similar to Whole Foods or Harris Teeter). It was awful. Possibly rancid. I tasted rancid bruschetta once. The tomatoes had begun to ferment and it was almost soda like with bubbles. This beet salad was just like that. Only, Wegman's is known for their fresh food, and especially their salad bars. So was it really rancid, or is this how it is supposed to taste? I couldn't decide if I should complain, so I focused in on my slice of Ultimate White Cake which is pretty much like very fattening heroin. Ohhhhh.....so good. (By the way, I have not actually tried heroin, but I have seen Trainspotting. Same thing.) Anyway, another pound of beets showed up in my share after that - they are definitely producing better this year - and I just tossed the soft, wrinkly little guys into the compost pile, untouched.

It was a few weeks later (last Friday, actually) that I tried a Moroccan Salad at California Pizza Kitchen, which included, among many other tasty things, beets.

And it was delicious! The beets really didn't make the salad bad at all. I would not go so far as to say I would have missed them if they were forgotten, but...

...so I decided on a whim to toss a few, small, finely chopped pieces into the soup I was making for my lunches this week. Turns out, beets are kind of like the bullies of the bunch. (Maybe that's where the get their name?) Like a banana or cantaloupe in a fruit salad, everything in my blood red soup tastes like a dang beet. It hardly seems like a soup at all. It's a borscht. Sure enough, you really don't use many beets in a borscht. A small gang is all that is needed to take over the neighborhood.

Oh well. My soup isn't all that bad. And I used a beet on a salad for lunch today. They almost taste good when paired with carrots. I'd say I neither love them nor hate them. But slowly, I am learning not to waste them.

We Are!

2011-09-03T12:00:00.001-04:00

I was at Wal-Mart the other day, searching for superglue, when I found duct tape with the University of Maryland logo on it. It was about a quarter of the size of the standard silver-gray rolls and four times the price.

Thought #1: That's freakin' retarded, who would buy such a thing?

Thought #2: I wonder if they have Penn State?

Yes, folks, it's football season.

Let the tailgates begin.

Spotlight on Super Glue

2011-09-01T21:39:00.000-04:00

I have just been to Wal-Mart, attempting to undo the damage from Hurricane Irene, or rather, from the preparation for damage from Hurricane Irene. We were out of super-glue.

I spent $78.00.

Dang super glue. I wasn't sure which aisle it would be in and I ended up traversing the whole freaking store. I found it, along with $75 worth of other stuff, then saw it hanging right next to the checkout line.

Naturally, I now have super glue in place of skin on most of my fingers. I can only hope it will come off before I travel to Houston on 9-11. I am a bit concerned about the trip because I will need to bring my "engineers bag" again. The last time I took it, I ended up with 15 razor blades in my carry-on. I imagine that another slip up, coupled with the questions about why I have replaced my fingerprints with a wrinkly mass of well adhered plastic will make me miss my plane.

But I digress.

I wanted to update y'all on The Glasses Incident, because, frankly, I'm a genius (with superglue on my fingers). I went outside to search, one more time, before Adam mowed the yard.

In the dark!

You heard me.

I took a flashlight out there, and every little dewy blade of grass glistened in the spotlight. I swept back and forth for a while, and had just about given up when, there they were, plain as day. They were exactly where I thought they would be - where I had blindly swept my hands, then scanned, then raked. I call it "Step Six: The Spotlight."

Based on my theory, prison inmates should attempt to escape in the daytime to avoid detection.

I will remember this when I go through airport security.

Come on Irene!

2011-08-29T21:05:00.000-04:00

I have deleted more hurricane-related emails over the past few days than I ever have before. Last Friday, we got a company wide email with a helpful FEMA publication on how to prepare for a hurricane. But I also got the same email at least four times later as people felt the need to "reply all" to the whole company with their two cents. I can only imagine that the Rochester, Pittsburgh, Raleigh, Tampa, Houston, and all the other non-northeastern coastal office folks were more annoyed.

Aside from that, the advice is generally just common sense. Things like buying ice and filling the bathtub for toilet water and bringing in your patio furniture. I got back to the house and found Adam in full swing, caulking sealer on the roof and tying down the trash cans, among other things.

I took a different approach and broke my stuff before the hurricane could get to it. I was attempting to squeeze an outdoor table through the doorway when I discovered that the decorative tiles which make up the top are not, in fact, glued in place. They crashed to the concrete floor and shattered. For good measure, I picked up the pieces that were unbroken, but I was still pinned in the doorway by the table, so I didn't place them far. I am not sure how, but they took a dive as well, and one of them broke into two pieces.

At that point I felt obligated to swear. It wasn't pretty.

I checked out the weather report and for the first time ever, we had a 100 percent chance of rain. Even with gigantic storm clouds that have lightening bolts shooting all around with static energy, directly over the weather station building, I think they say 70 percent chance of rain, tops.

Sadly, we did not get to play out scenes from "Storm Chasers" or that movie about twisters.

We went to West Virginia for a wedding and enjoyed really beautiful weather.

Before leaving, I gave the neighbors our numbers and told them to call if there were any issues. They never called, so naturally, I assumed they were dead.

I also assumed we would be driving back into, well, a storm - after all, the forecast for Sunday was giving 70 percent chance of rain. But, it was perfect outside. Skies were blue and humidity was low. We saw a few downed sticks but no downed trees as we made our way across the Maryland panhandle.

As we neared the house, there were a few more signs that we'd missed some action. Eventually, we were detoured where a tree rested against a power line. However, we were able to drive through the State park on our regular unpaved road to home. It turns out, the neighbors were fine, and the cat was her normal oblivious self. The power was out, but after our winter storm power outage, we are perpetually prepared for such events. I picked up sticks from the yard while Adam rescued what food he could from the freezer and fridge.

I surveyed his garbage bag containing melted ice cream and eggs, and noticed the ratatouille that I had made the previous morning, still cold. It used all the veggies from the farm as of late: eggplant, zucchini, leeks, and tomatoes. I planned to eat it for lunch all week.

"That stuff smells TERRIBLE," he said, "I don't even think the container can be saved."

I pulled it out (still cold) and sniffed it. It smelled exactly the same as it had yesterday, when I made it. "Geesh, man," I exclaimed, "It's still good!"

After assuring him that yes, eggplant smells like that, and no, he doesn't have to eat it, I rescued the container and put it in the deep freeze.

I went outside to lounge in the yard and read a book, where I got sleepy. I took my glasses off for a nap, but when I got up, I folded up the chair and forgot the glasses. For the next hour or two, I searched for them in stages:

Stage One: "The Thelma" aka, the "Brainy Smurf": While squinting, get down on all fours and sweep the grass blindly, hoping that you will not crawl on your glasses.

Stage Two: "The Scan": Go into the house and insert contacts onto eyeballs. Return to yard and walk slowly while sweeping the eyes back and forth, hoping that you will not step on your glasses.

Stage Three: "The Partner": Solicit a partner and insist, numerous times, that you are sure that you took your glasses outside. Once he is convinced, or at least willing to take part in your futile exercise, both people can participate in "The Scan", hoping that you and your buddy will not step on your glasses.

Stage Four: "The Rake": After a brief search in the house and on your head due to repeated accusations that you did not take your glasses outside, resume search with a rake. Go back to area of alleged loss, and begin raking the yard, hoping that you will not scratch, or step on, your glasses.

I never found them.

Lets look at the scoreboard:

Hurricane Irene: one gallon of ice cream, a few condiments, and some fishsticks.

Nicki: One $300 table and a pair of glasses.

And people think hurricanes are destructive.

Excuse me, I have some emails to delete.

Engineer to the Rescue!

2011-08-26T21:10:00.000-04:00

This economy has really taken a toll on my industry. I heard some statistic the other day that a huge percentage of architects (I forget how much, and frankly, I am not in the mood for....

...ok, ok, so I think the overall percentage of unemployment right now is 9.3, but percentage of unemployed architects is 9.8. Apparently, this is hard to measure due to people entering/leaving said occupation, but my point is, that its rough out there. Architects aren't designing things, and sadly, engineers work for architects, so where does that leave us?

Well, that has temporarily changed. The other day, I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business and working (for lack of actual work) on a proposal to get work. Then, some ginormous dude and two of his dinosaur friends started walking down the aisle between cubes. And then the landscaping guys outside hit the building with a tank-sized lawn mower, and the building was swaying back and forth for like three seconds before I realized this was an earthquake.

Suddenly, structural engineers are like superstars. Only, they are extremely nervous superstars as they realize that all the hundreds of buildings they've designed over the last ten years have just been tested. The drywall right next to my window was audibly cracking and I was not sure if I should run outside. But, then it stopped.

I was on the USGS website even before the event was recorded, and hit refresh until a little red box popped up in Virginia. Shortly after, I got an email from a project contractor, building a structure just 45 miles or so from the epicenter. The email was flagged with a little red exclamation point meaning "high importance," and says one word: "Earthquake". Shit, man. Like...shit. What if something happened? Did my building fail? Then I thought about how that particular building was designed to withstand a LOT more than an earthquake, and it seemed really unlikely.

I called the guy and got a busy signal. Not good.

So, I play it cool, and email back: "You were a lot closer to the epicenter than we were, any issues?" That's cool right? Not like what's in my brain, which is more along the lines of "OH MY GOD I HOPE YOU"RE NOT DEAD and ifyouareIhopeitsnotmyfault." A minute later, he called me. "I just wanted you to know that everything's fine."

Seriously, I was so relieved he wasn't dead that I wanted to kill him. "Don't you EVER high importance your email on me without an explanation!!" I nearly shouted.

About 10 minutes after that, I got a call from the owner on another job. He had someone walk the building, and its all good. But he wanted me to go there (3 hour drive) and let the 500 people standing outside back in. You know, cause I'm a superstar. Oh, and I fly faster than the speed of light and therefore will have no problem getting around Washington DC right after a natural disaster. Oh, and also, I can apparently fight fires because the fire alarm was pulled and the fire department hadn't shown up.

"Is there a fire?" I asked.
"I don't think so," he says, "I think someone pulled the alarm."
"But how do we, um, know that it wasn't pulled for a fire?"
Silence.

So, after I convinced him that he should maybe wait for the fire department, I told him someone would be out tomorrow to check for damage.

Today, I went to three schools, tomorrow a parking garage, and probably another garage next week. So far, I haven't found much to be concerned about, and thank goodness, all my buildings are still standing. But I'm up to my eyeballs in reports to write. (Which is why I am blogging, thank you very much. I'll write them....later.)

Hurricane, you say? Pfft. No sweat.

Life Support

2011-08-24T07:58:00.001-04:00

I think...it's over. I have had this houseplant since college, and it has dealt with a lot of neglect and abuse over the years. When I first moved to Baltimore, ten years ago (eek!), I had to put all of my things into storage because my apartment wasn't available until September. I left my houseplants with my father, thinking they were in good hands, but he put them in a cooler and let them sit outside. This would have been fine, but when I went to pick them up, I found the cooler nearly full of water, and my plants were drowning inside. I lost one plant, but this guy, and a few of his buddies, survived.

When I finally did move to my apartment, there wasn't much light. But, this plant did just fine in a dimly lit hallway.

Seems it is time for a eulogy.

This was a plant I got from my friends Josh and Joanne, when they decided to sell or give away everything they owned, except for what could fit in a Volkswagon Golf. They moved across the country to Portland, Oregon and before they left, they gave me this plant, which they never watered. They just let it sit on their balcony, and it seemed to happily exist (but not in a cooler). I have enjoyed the company of the plant much more than the few REM and Sonic Youth CD's that they hadn't been able to sell. Come to think of it, I supposed I enjoyed the company of this plant in place of its previous owners. Josh and Joanne were on their way. I got one postcard. They made it to Oregon, but the VW didn't. They didn't have a permanent address yet, but they were enjoying the ride. And then I never heard from them again. I just loved that idea, of going off into the world without a plan, and seeing what happened. But I was never brave enough to really try it. I stayed with the plants and acted semi-responsible until said plants were submerged in 15 inches of water.

Anyway, this plant doesn't look like much anymore, but it had quite a life. It was the only plant that seemed to like the new house. Most other plants have been dying off, one by one, due to a lack of light. There are beautiful trees near the house in the yard. Unfortunately, they shade a lot of the sunlight that would otherwise pour through the windows. I still have four plants left...but my army has been significantly decreased since we moved here.

The other plants were surviving but this plant had been thriving. So much so that it grew another shoot that got pretty tall. And when we returned from vacation, I found it just slumped over. It was as though some cat or something had broken it. But the cat wasn't home. She was on vacation too. Mystery.

Well, I tied it up to a dowel rod, which is the equivalent of being hooked up to those machines that boop and beep at the hospital. I hoped it would repair itself, but I knew it probably wouldn't be the case when a few days later, it slumped over again, just above the twist ties. I moved the ties up, but poor thing. It's quality of life was not good, and I guess it was just maybe it's time to go.

Poor little plant. It will be missed.

I Fought the Yard and the Yard Won

2011-08-21T20:21:00.000-04:00

I dismantled my garden.

Let me back up. Last year, when we moved into this house, I was excited to plant a garden. I had a caveat - it would be on MY TERMS, and RELAXING. It would not be the loads of work I remembered from my childhood. Many a summer was spent picking things - peas, beans, more peas, lima beans, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, peaches, cherries, plums, apples. Freezing things - broccoli, beans, corn, peas, peppers. Canning things - peach jelly, blackberry jelly, blueberry jelly, plums, tomatoes, applesauce.

I did not want this.

I wanted a peaceful garden, like this one:

"What is paradise, but, a garden, an orchard of trees and herbs, full of pleasure and nothing there but delights."...William Lawson

I wanted a wonderful hobby, like this guy had:

"No occupation is so delightful to me as the culture of the earth, and no culture comparable to that of the garden."-- Thomas Jefferson

Probably, I should have listened to this guy:

"Gardening requires lots of water - most of it in the form of perspiration."...Lou Erictson

I did accomplish significant abundance compared to last year:

Strawberries in 2010: 0.

Strawberries in 2011: 2.

Peppers in 2010: 0.

Peppers in 2011: 8.

Additional crops in 2010: 0.

Additional crops in 2011: 0.

At this rate, I may be able to make a pie when I am 60. But, the deer and slugs are well fed.

Sometimes, I have to try things before I realize that I hate them. Case in point - I willingly stood in line for that "Free Fall" ride at Cedars Point. You know, its the one where they lift a carload of people to the top of a tall tower, and then drop them? That one? I did not realize that I was ABSOLUTELY terrified of the ride until we got to the top, just before the loud screechy noise that signified the brakes had been released. I have NEVER screamed like that, EVER.

Case #2 - I climbed all the way up to the top of the 10 meter platform at Penn State pool when they let us try it one day. I looked down at that water, 30 feet below, and only then did I realize, I was scared sh*tless. I unceremoniously climbed back down.

I bought a slew of art supplies and drawing pads before I realized that I do not enjoy making art. I have canning supplies in the basement, but no longer desire to can things. And now, I have a plot of land that is being overrun by grass with absolutely no effort, despite hours of time spent trying to kill the grass.

Do I regret doing these things? Not at all. How else will I know I hate something, unless I try it?

How i sPent me Sumer Vacayshun

2011-08-19T19:53:00.000-04:00

It's me! Your old pal Daisy! Well, I went on vacation too, you know. You did not think my Adam and my Nicki would leave me all alone for a whole week by myself, do you? And I am sure you know them well enough to know that they would not pay $26 a day for me to go to the yucky old vet, right? That's why I got to go to beeutiful, historic, Westminster, Maryland, where my aminal friends, Basil and Sage, live.

I was a wee bit confused at first, you see. Adam and Nicki left on a Friday, but only with enough food and stuff for the weekend, so I figured I had the house just for a day or two. I called all my cat friends like usual, and we had our normal "the peeps is outta town" kegger. The house was all cleaned up in time for them to get back, and then, in walks my Aunt Tiff.

She picked me up and tried to stuff me in my Kat Karrier, and I just HATE that thing. I didn't know why Aunt Tiff, whose normally not so pushy, was tryin to take me to the vet, so I peed on her leg. (Like I said, she really confused me, and I guess I am a little sorry, but really I hate the Kat Karrier, you know? You probly woulda done the same thing.)

Anyway, after a super long and windy car ride, I ended up at her new apartment in Westminster. The first thing I checked out was under the bed, and that's where my new friend, Sage the Cat stays. Sage is a tall, dark, and handsome man-cat, I must say. Meee-yow! I figured I better growl and hiss at him a lot, just sose he'd know I was totally gonna play hard to get. (It's a trick we gals have, it really drives a Tom wild.) He was nice enough to let me stay in his place for a bit, but I figured I better let him have his space. Besides, I really like lookin' out windowsills, and I'd never been to Westminster, so I wanted to check out all the cool old buildings and stuff.

I know, I know. I was such a tourist.

Anyway, the service was pretty good. Aunt Tiff still made me take a pill, and I tried to smack her around a bit, but you know, gosh darn it, I think she's actually pretty nice. So I didn't use my claws or nuthin. My meals got put right up there on the windowsill for me, and I really liked that. One day I got a little tipsy, you know, and I sorta accidentally jumped on my food dish. You know how it is on vacation. But, like I said, the service was real good, and it got cleaned up. Aunt Tiff never even said a word about it, so when I had to puke later - look, I was on vacation and livin it up - I decided to try this thing Nicki's always tryin to get me to do, and I puked in the litter box. I don't know. Aunt Tiff seemed to think that was cool, but I'll probably go back to puking in the hallway, or maybe right in the doorway. I think Adam likes to clean it with his socks. Why, as soon as he does it, he goes and gets a second pair so he can do it again!

Mostly my trip was spent sight seeing on the window sill, and at night, I got to run around and play with Basil and Sage. They do this thing where they jump on the bed with Auntie T and Uncle E, and they play all night long! It is so much fun! I tried getting Nicki to play with me when I got back but she just rolled over and kept sleeping. Humans don't seem to realize that the best sleeping time is in the afternoon with the sun to keep you warm. Their loss, I say.

When it came time to come home, I had to ride in that icky Kat Karrier again. Only this time, Uncle Eric put me inside. I didn't pee on him, cause I was hoping to get a chance to pee and poop in his car. Then he'd really understand not to put me in the carrier again. Alas, I couldn't muster up a good poo, so I just puked. Uncle Eric got the best of me though, he is one smart cookie. He gave me a bath!! Can you believe that! Cats don't take baths!

I am plotting my revenge. I hope he gets white carpets in that new house of his.

But...I did have a fun summer vacation! I can't wait until next year!

This Other Old House

2011-08-16T14:22:00.000-04:00

July 30, our last (sniff, sniff) day of vacation. We had seen Monticello, but we decided on a whim to check out a nearby historic home, Montpelier. I had heard about this on a radio show a few months back. It was once the home of James and Dolly Madison, but they had very little money towards the end, and the house was sold over the years to six different families before it was finally sold to the DuPont family. The DuPonts had gobs of money, and they added a horse track to the property, among other things. They also added a few levels and 32 room to the house, and it really wasn't the same.

At least one DuPont realized that the home was important to American history (James Madison, you may recall, is considered the "Father of the Constitution", and his wife Dolly coined the term "First Lady".) In 1985, Ms. DuPont left the house to the National Historic Trust, and they have been restoring it ever since. In 2008, the house was finally back to the state it had been in around 1815. They removed the extra rooms and the stucco finish from the exterior. They carbon-dated the wall coverings through 32 layers of paint to find the colors used by the Madisons.

There is not much furniture or anything - they are working on that - but it was really interesting how meticulous this restoration has been. They are working on the grounds with just as much effort, and they are currently building the slave quarters to match what they may have looked like in Madison's time. Slaves were a tricky subject for Mr. Madison. As a southerner, he relied on this labor source to allow him to sell his product - usually tobacco, but later wheat - at a competitive price. As a person, he knew it was morally wrong to force a person to work without pay. He was very torn, and wrote a lot about the subject. I do not think they tried to sugar coat the issue, but sadly, there is more written on the topic by Madison than by his slaves. (Though there is one book by a slave, Paul Jennings, which they read from during the tour.)

We toured the house, and then the grounds, on a very hot day. We walked through Madison's gardens, but there were no trees. Adam, a red-head, was burning to a near crisp, so we ducked into the old growth forest which is part of the grounds. As if we hadn't hiked enough, we went along a trail, thankful for a bit of shade, but with bugs helping themselves to the buffet of fresh human. Soon we came to a beautiful spiderweb across the trail, glittering in the sun that filtered through the trees. (I tried to take a picture, but this was one that didn't make it with the blind shot.)

We skittered around that, then got immediately entangled in another web. For the next half of the trail, we had to walk with sticks, sweeping the air ahead to break the spiderwebs. I still ended up obsessively sweeping my hair for spiders for most of the day. It was hot, and now a tad sticky with spiderwebs, but I will say, the bug population appeared to be reduced.

I still wanted to check out the Madison family graveyard, and they also had a slave cemetery which sounded intriguing. Adam was tired of cooking himself, so he waited in the visitor center. The Madison graves were interesting, but (and I guess I should have expected this) the slave cemetery was just woods. They know there are graves there by the depressions that form in the soil as it compacts, and these are visible mainly in winter, when snow lingers in the holes. In summer? It is just trees.

We finished the last leg of our journey, and arrived home to an 87 degree house. Turns out, the air conditioner went kaput while we were gone. For two days, we had seen how people lived over 100 years ago, without air conditioning, heat, running water, or electricity, and I'd love to say we just took this in stride. But I gotta say, when you look forward to sleeping in your own bed for the first time in 9 days, you do not usually envision pools of sweat.

This Old House

2011-08-14T22:00:00.002-04:00

Ha, so you thought I was done with vacation posts, but you were wrong! July 28 was our last day in Tennessee, but there was a whole state in the way on the trip back to Maryland. Yes, Virginia.

As we did waaaay long ago on our trip south, we also made a pit stop on the trip north, just to break up the monotony of the interstate. This particular pit stop had been on my list of places to go while I was in the neighborhood, but I never quite made it. The picture above (taken blind, of course) is from none other than the Dome Room of Monticello. This was the home of Thomas Jefferson, and I am sure you recognize it, for it is also featured on the nickel. (For my younger readers - the nickel is a "coin" which is a form of "cash". This was used to purchase things before "credit cards".)

Monticello was built in the late 1700's and has remained pretty much in tact since. It is restored to its state in about 1815, when "TJ" was retired. He's a pretty smart guy, that TJ. He took interest in gardening, architecture, science, and the arts. He also had a few nutty habits like sleeping in these "alcove beds" which are only like 5 feet long and crammed between walls. He slept sitting up on pillows, and then he put his feet in a bowl of water every day. He claimed this kept him from catching cold.

After the tour, we walked around the grounds and saw some unusual flowers in a horseshoe shaped garden. Most of them were marked "TJ" to indicate that Jefferson had grown them back in his day. Though the house was mostly original (with a few additional steel beams for support - it was a tad rickety), there were also a lot of reproductions of things Jefferson owned. For instance, he gave all his books to the Library of Congress after the British torched DC in the war of 1812, so there were only a few volumes that he actually owned in the house. There were also a lot of reproductions of the paintings he owned, though they did have one of the original Gilbert Stuart paintings of Mr. Jefferson. (I do think it is a little odd that he had a huge picture of himself hanging...but I guess that was the thing to do back in the day.)

How do they know what he owned and planted? Well, he was a bit of a "Type A" person and he kept detailed records of just about everything. Interestingly, he also owned the Natural Bridge, and there was a picture of it hanging in the dining room. I wonder if that makes us groupies?

Anyway, after Monticello, we headed to nearby Charlottesville, VA - home of Jefferson's school, the University of Virginia. The same architect did many of the buildings, and the campus was very nice. Of course, the main attraction was the few breweries in town. And the ability to get a burger after 10pm.

We checked out the South Street Brewery, which was a bit of a hike from our hotel. Looked a lot closer on the map. Ahh, well, it was all worth it for a tasty brew!

Cades Cove

2011-08-11T22:52:00.002-04:00

Our last day in the Great Smoky National Park was Thursday, July 28. We chose a driving loop which features views up at the mountains from the meadows, rather than views to valleys far below. Alas many of my pictures are of things right next to the things I wanted pictures of, because the screen was destroyed during the previous day's exploits on "Chimney Tops" aka "Shale of Doom". Digital cameras do not even feature viewfinders anymore, and there was no way to tell how far I was zoomed in, whether the flash was on, what mode I was in, or what, exactly, I was picturing. However, taking "point and shoot" quite literally, one can still get a few good photos.

Cades Cove - during spring, this is covered with wildflowers.

The Cades Cove Loop is an "Auto Tour" with lots of stopping points for looks at historic structures. After all, the meadows only really exist because white settlers came to the area in the 1820's and 30's and chopped down all the trees. The area was once home to as many as 271 (white) families. (The native people, generally Cherokee, had lived in the area for centuries and I guess no one knows how many of them there were because it was not listed in my official "Self-Guided Auto Tour" booklet.)

Cades Cove is rumored to be a good place to see wildlife, including bears. More on that in a moment. First stop was a Baptist Church, established in 1827.

The biggest appeal to me in stopping here was not the church itself, but the cemetery behind it. I love cemeteries, and after a PBS special which toured a bunch of them as scenic and serene parks, I am not afraid to admit it anymore. Lots of people love cemeteries. Really. I am not weird.

OK, OK, so I'm weird. I especially love the oldest tombstones. I like to see how old people were, who their family members were, what sort of epitaphs they may have. I like to look at the years, and try to imagine what life had been like for them. I mourn a bit for those whose tombstone inscriptions have faded.

This cemetery had a number of old and interesting stones, including one guy who was "murdered by North Carolina Rebels" and another with an arched stone. There were many whose lettering had washed away, and a number of infants and children.

It was also stinking hot! And no shade! So we continued past a homestead and two more churches without stopping. We did stop for a short hike to Abrams Falls, and I don't think I would have taken such a nice picture if I could see the screen:

I do, however, have a few pictures of the rocks next to the falls, and about 8 pictures of ground because I tried to photograph two beautiful butterflies that were opening and closing their wings. I missed for every shot. I did not even try to shoot a picture of the otter I saw later on.

The final historical stop is the Cable Grist Mill. According to my booklet, this would feature about 10 old structures which were moved from various park locations to simulate a typical homestead with a mill. One structure was to be a "Tennessee Cantilever Barn" and I was sort of surprised to see the use of a structural engineering term such as "cantilever" in the description. When we got to the barn, we saw this:

This. Is not a cantilever. An example of a cantilever is a diving board - something that freely overhangs on one end, with the other end fixed. I thought perhaps they had screwed up their terms.

But then we saw this one:

Tricky. There were two barns.

Anyway, we walked around the mill area a bit and then continued the drive. Unfortunately, there was a bit of a traffic jam. People were pulling off to the side to look at wildlife, but when the pull off areas filled up, they just parked themselves right there on the road. We were patient, thinking this must be the bear we hoped to see. So we get to the area, and we look, to find....

...deer.

Yes, deer. Not reindeer, or elk, or any interesting species of deer either. These were the same freaking critters that eat the shrubbery in front of my house. The ones I practically dodge on the street on a daily basis. And looking at the license plates, it was clear that these people would be equally familiar with this "rodent with hooves". Very confusing.

We made our way around the deer-gawkers, and found the bear-gawkers - outside their cars, and into the woods about half a mile. According to a woman just outside our vehicle, people were looking at a mama bear and her two cubs.

Really?

This is EXACTLY what the park rangers advise us NOT to do. Not so much because the bear will maul you (though it could, if you get too close), but because the bear will get used to you, and then attempt to steal someone's "pickinic" basket, and then maul some other random jackass. And then it will be killed without a trial.

Sorry, I just get frustrated by the masses who seem to care for nothing but their own enjoyment, regardless of the circumstances of their actions.

We opted to leave the bear be, though I was sad not to see it. We saw only two bears on our trip - in both cases they were frantically crossing busy streets in Gatlinburg. Kind of like these deer things we have up here...

Better Than Most?

2011-08-09T09:49:00.003-04:00

After a day in the car, we went back to hiking on foot. I had picked two hikes, just in case. We were very ambitious. The first hike, called "Chimney Tops" was considered moderate in difficulty for most of the hike, but ends with 800 feet of elevation change in the last mile. The last hundred feet or so are actually a "scramble" meaning hands and feet are needed to get up, but it is easy to do without true climbing gear. It sounded fun, and the hike was relatively short - the one we did on Monday (that would have been July 25th) was 7.0 miles round trip, but this one (which we did on July 27th) was only 4.0. I figured we could do this in about 2 hours, despite the signs at the trail head noting that most people take 3 to 4 hours. It also said most people don't make it to the top.

"Pfft!" I thought, "MOST people is not me and Adam!"

Well, that may be true, but this hike took us about 3 hours, maybe a bit more.

We had stopped at a gas station deli and brought a few sandwiches to eat in the woods. We missed the turn for the picnic area, so we just went to the river and ate on some large rocks. The stupid people who only yesterday were walking in front of cars while eating ice cream cones were playing in the rapids without shoes. One little boy in particular was clearly unaware of the potential dangers of this, and his father was equally clueless. As a former lifeguard, I assessed the surroundings and imagined how I would rescue this boy. Despite the drama of Baywatch, it is actually a last resort to go into the water for a rescue, and I eyed up a good stick which I would reach out to the kid.

Meanwhile, he came closer and closer to this rapid in front of us, and I wrestled with whether I should say something, because his father was right there watching him. Just like that, the kid, who was about 10 and weighed all of 70 pounds, started to get caught.

He gets this panicked look on his face, and his dad tells him to "Stand up" which is not only hard for him to do, but like, the worst advice ever. You see, when you stand up in water that is strongly pulling you in one direction, you will stand on rocks spaced closely together. The water will still pull, and more than likely, you will get a foot stuck between rocks and either drown, or break a bone. Or both. Luckily, the kid was not able to follow this advice, and tried swimming.

I made a move for that stick as he struggled, and then thankfully, he got his hands around a rock and was able to pull himself out. He ran, stricken, to his stupid father who told him he should be more careful and actually kind of made fun of hm for being so skinny. Luckily, I think the kid is smarter than the dad, and he looked like he may have learned a lesson about swimming near rapids.

Meanwhile, we finished our meals and began our hike. It was totally as advertised, and we reached the "scramble" section as a family with two teenagers was coming down. Both boy and girl teen paused to tell us how cool the summit is, and wished us luck.

I started out just fine, and Adam quickly rushed ahead of me. We have both done lots of indoor climbing, and this was easier than most of those. However, it was much more of a sheer rock than I had initially imagined. I guess I pictured a hike much like the one we did a few years back at Mount Monadnock in New Hampshire. It required the use of hands, but the trail was through a narrow passageway. It had higher rocks around us for most of the time.

This was just bare rock face, and I was climbing it. On Monday, the body strongly opposed the brain. This day, the brain was strongly opposing the body. Believe me, this was decidedly NOT HARD. My body was like, "Dude, I got this. Piece of cake."

But my brain kept pointing out key differences between this, and indoor climbing. Little things, like how I have always had a harness while climbing before, how I didn't bring my climbing shoes, how I might slip and fall to my death, and the most troubling point, how I normally do not climb back down. In indoor climbing, you reach the top, and you let go, while your partner lowers you safely to the ground on a rope. I highly doubted there would be one of those skyline rides on the other side of the summit.

Somewhere about mid-way, I froze. Actually, no, I could not go up or down, true, but I was shaking like a leaf. Arms, legs, hands, all of me. Meanwhile, Adam nearly walked up the thing like stairs. He marveled at the view, and told me to get up there. I did make the choice to continue up, despite extreme concerns about getting back down. If for no other reason, than to not be lumped in with "most people" who were currently shouting from swimming holes to add more lighter fluid to the campfire (or so I surmised).

A view of Adam about half way up.

Me, as close to the top as I could get. It counts!

The view from the peak - Adam had to take this blind because I broke the fluid in the camera screen while clinging to a rock for dear life with the camera in my pocket...

By the way, we did not get to do the second hike because it was about 5pm when we finished this one. I did manage to get down, thanks to my Hero (aka Adam) who told me exactly where to put my hands and feet on the descent. Getting down was not as hard as I expected!

We instead went to the Newfound Gap by car, and hiked about a mile of the Appalachian Trail, just for kicks.

What Happens in Gatlinurg Stays in Gatlinburg

2011-08-07T22:34:00.004-04:00

After the "trek" to the peak of Clingman's Dome, we headed for our hotel on the Tennessee side of the park. In reading my pamphlets on the area, I knew that the Bryson City area, and the North Carolina side in general, was the quieter, less popular side of the park. The center, right there at Clingman's Dome, is the Appalachian Trail, which is the border between states. Based on the hundreds of ads I had gotten with my "Great Smokies Trip Planner", I expected Gatlinburg, Tennessee to be something like Ocean City here in Maryland. Basically, a tourist trap - only here there would be woods instead of sand.

This was beyond a tourist trap - it was like Vegas for families. As soon as we left the serene park borders, we were met with pure chaos: Haunted Houses, Mini-Golf, Dig for your Own Gold, Zip Line Tours, Live Bear Acts, and at least Six "Ripley's Believe It Or Not" attractions. (Adam called them, Ripley's "I Can't Believe I Paid That Much" museums.) Along the mayhem, were pedestrians. Inexplicably, they were all paying more attention to their ice cream cones or funnel cakes, and grown adults were walking into traffic without even a glance at the cars.

It was pure insanity, especially compared to the peaceful whips of clouds we had photographed just minutes earlier. I held fast to the reviews of our hotel, which said it was "off the strip" and "quiet", but "close enough to walk to the town". Thank goodness, these were right on the money.

A few scenes from our hotel room:

Yep, that's the Roaring Fork Creek, which runs right behind every room at this hotel. It is loud enough to drown out any noise, but the hotel truly is located a bit away from the mayhem. Also, they featured "wine and cheese" followed by "milk and cookies" every day (though we stayed in the park until sunset each day, and we missed them). And the pool and hot tub were open 24 hours. And there was a parrot in the lobby. (His name is Cesar, and, according to the sign on his cage, he bites. Good to know.)

The only complaint I had was the free Wi-Fi. It was set up a bit funky, so every web page featured a banner with flashing coupons at the top. It was either this, or the million other set-up issues Adam noted in their code, that made it impossible to load pictures to my posts. So, yes, I have been back for full-on a week now, but will continue to bore you every few days with stories about my vacation. You're welcome!

Clingman's Dome

2011-08-04T11:26:00.001-04:00

Some pictures from Clingman's Dome, which is the highest point along the Appalachian Trail at 6,643 feet above sea level. Only one other mountain, Mt Mitchell, is higher. On a clear day, one can see Mount Mitchell, which is in Mitchell State Park in North Carolina. We were there on a decidedly UN-clear day. But the air was refreshing and cool at about 67 degrees, so we hung out on top of the man made tower that emanates from the dome, and eventually, the clouds rolled away a bit.

The spiral walkway leading to the tower.

View of some clouds rolling in.

The long awaited southern view, with layers of mountains.

The observation tower.

Contact with the Trail

2011-08-01T10:59:00.001-04:00

The tires are the things on the car that make contact with the trail!

After yesterday's hike, we needed time to dry out. We decided on a driving loop that would take us partially on unpaved road. The drive started in the lower elevations on a hot and humid day, but the higher we drove, the cooler and less humid the weather. At elevation 3000 or so, we put the windows all the way down, and at 4160 ft, we made our first stop at Big Witch Overlook.

My attempt at humor...get it? Witch's Overlook? Geesh! Tough crowd!

We continued on our drive up to the top, where, conveniently, there were potties. There is a saying in my family - never pass a pot - so even though our needs were not dire, we used the facilities. The area also had a number of beautiful tables made of piled up stones. Alas, I had not thought I would need the camera on a trip to the restroom, so I will have to rely on my memory to picture these. Fading already!

At this point, we entered the unpaved area. A sign warned us that the road is 28 miles long and one way, with a speed limit of 15 miles per hour. Adam maneuvered the car through twists and turns. Directly adjacent to the trail, for the vast majority of the length, is a drop of about 40 feet or so. It certainly kept him on his toes. There also was no way one would reach 15 miles per hour without careening off the cliff. He kept it an average of 10 miles an hour, going about 6 or 7 around these curves.

For those readers too lazy for this math: 28 miles at 10 miles an hour = a long time. We did not reach the bottom in Cherokee, NC until about 3:30pm. At that time, we were hungry! A common theme on this trip is looking for food at non-traditional mealtimes. No exception here - Cherokee has places for putt-putt and Christmas ornaments, lots of places to buy "authentic, Indian made jewelery", and Indians themselves, dressed in plastic feathers and beating plastic drums. But the only food available was ice cream and candy.

I prefer to try local spots when I'm in a new place, so I noted a sign that said the "Cherokee Diner", complete with an "Open" sign. Open signs appear to be in the windows of places 24-7 around here, so we still weren't certain it was, in fact, open. Also, it appeared to be somehow between a Dairy Queen and a Dominoes.

Turns out, it was both the Dairy Queen and the Dominoes. But, it was open, so we ate at the authentic Cherokee Diner.

Its a Natural Feeling

2011-07-30T10:25:00.001-04:00

My body is a big fan of the Law of Inertia - at least the second part. The law clearly states that an object at rest will stay at rest, unless acted upon by an outside force. My brain occasionally attempts to act as the outside force.

But my body tends to do everything in its power to resist the brain's attempts to move it. The body reacts violently in some cases - from overheating and nausea, to full out puking, the body makes it clear that said movement is not okay with it, and I had better get back to rest.

To exercise with me is to realize: I may puke on you. I am so glad you love me anyway.

Allow me to segue into talk of preparations for our trip. I read the pamphlets on what to do if encountering a bear, what to do if lost in the woods, and how to prevent hypothermia in the event that I am caught in the rain. The pamphlets contained an additional section on pooping in the woods. Oh, I tried to convince myself I wouldn't need it, but knowing my body, there really was no deceiving myself.

Dear reader, you have guessed where this is going, but allow me to regale you with my tale:

We decided on a hike to the "Lonesome Pine Overlook" which is just the beginning section of the "Noland Divide Trail". The hike is rated "strenuous" by most reviews, and has an elevation change of about 2300 feet. We started out in good spirits, despite the heat. It was about 92 degrees and humid. It wasn't long before we were both sweating, and Adam commented that he hates the sun.

Apparently, this was more effective than we knew. Literally a minute after his statement, it started to drizzle and turned quickly to a light rain. At least this will cool us off, we thought, and we continued our ascent. About a half hour later, there was no kidding ourselves. This was full buckets of rain, dumped by the gallon over our heads. The trail was steep and narrow, with water literally streaming downwards as we climbed up. I pulled my camera from my pocket and buried it in a biking glove that was still in my pack, hoping to keep it dry. I also used the rain cover feature of my pack for the first time. A pouch at the base holds a cover that slips over the top, affording an additional defense against moisture.

As thunder rolled overhead, we considered sloshing our way back to the car, even though we were only about halfway. However, we chose to trudge on with heavy clothes and squishy feet.

An hour later, the rain let up, and we reached a rocky ridge. Finally, we were able to take a few pictures:

Plumes of "smoke" rising from the valley - giving the Great Smokies their name.

The peak in this picture was our destination - about 2300-ft above our starting point.

This "waterfall" popped up during the storm.

It threatened to rain some more, and though we were cool with it before, our patience was a tad thin. So we began the trek back down the muddy slope. It was about this time that I realized what punishment my body had set up for me. Evil of all evils, I had to poop. This behavior was not unheard of from my body. So of course, I ignored it.

About 20 minutes later I told Adam of my predicament and headed away from the trail to dig a hole as I was instructed by my pamphlets. On the bright side, I was already soaked to the bone and feeling generally gross. And I answered an age old question: When a Baer shits in the woods and no one is around to smell it, does it make a stink?

The People Have Spoken!

2011-07-25T12:13:00.001-04:00

The people have spoken! You may recall a month or two back when I lamented about vacation planning. A nearly overwhelming response from as many at 7 readers suggested western North Carolina and the Great Smoky Mountain National Park.

So, here we are. One thing I hate hate hate is driving for more than say, six hours at a stretch. Driving makes me grumpy. So I looked into air travel to the Smokies. Unfortunately, one thing about National Parks that's pretty universal is that they are hard to get to. Short of rail service that would take over 30 hours of travel time, there were not may options for our 10 hour plus drive.

So then I began looking at places along the route which might be good stopover points.

On Friday, we left for Natural Bridge, Virginia, where there is a natural arch rock formation that is 215 feet tall, 40 feet thick, and spanning 90 feet! They actually have a road (US Route 11) running directly overtop, which, as an engineer, totally blows my mind. It makes me super nervous that the Department of Transportation is willing to rely on materials which man does not control as a means of support. So what if it has been here for 500 million years!

Ultimately, we did drive over it, thinking we could get a different view, but the current purveyors of this bridge have covered their bases in ensuring that one pays the $18 admittance fee to look at the rock. There are tall fences which afford no view.

We did get a few pictures, but it was almost dark:

The Natural Bridge - note the size of the people!

The next morning we went to the caverns, which were opened to the public in the 70's. The cave was very cool (like literally - a welcome relief from the HEAT we have had). However, it seems as though our trip caving a few years back may have ruined us for commercial tours. All we wanted to do was crawl around in the areas roped off!

After the cave, we hopped in the car for another 5 hour drive to Asheville, North Carolina. Everyone kept telling us how it was like this town was built for us - lots of mircobrews, outdoor sports, and live music. It did not disappoint. They have nine microbreweries, and we never did get to try them all in our short stay. We caught a Grateful Dead cover band late in the night and bar-hopped with the best of them. After hotel check out on Sunday, we walked the streets, and went to a coffee shop (almost as many of these as bars), the "Mellow Mushroom" - a pizza place, with beer, of course, and a chocolate lounge. So many choices of cool flavored chocolates! (And beer, of course!)

At the Mellow Mushroom

With bellies full of pizza, beer, and chocolate, we finally left for our ultimate destination, the Great Smoky Mountains. We're here in Bryson City, North Carolina, planning to hike a few trails this side of the park before heading to Tennessee tomorrow. (It will be a new state for me, I have never even driven through Tennessee.)

View of Fontana Lake

My First Time

2011-07-09T13:19:00.001-04:00

I just did it for the first time today. My sister told me it would be great, and I would feel wonderful afterwards, but it just never really appealed to me. It wasn't just that I didn't want a guy touching me like that, it really was a lack of interest. I guess I am not like other girls, and I never had the desire.

I was so wrong. It was....amazing. Almost medicinal. I feel so good now, I almost can't wait until I can do it again.

It started with a gentle, soothing bath. The water was warm, and scented with the salt scrub I had picked out myself. The rest was a bit of a blur, as he scrubbed my skin and massaged my legs. He never once commented on my body, though I was a tad self-conscious of some stray hairs I had missed while shaving.

Then he took my toes, one by one, and painted them.

Girls, take it from me. Get a pedicure. It is soooo worth it.

Beach Babe

2011-07-03T19:42:00.000-04:00

I am at the beach! My sister moved to North Carolina last year, and some stuff happened, some other stuff didn't happen, and, well, long story short - she's moving back to Merry-land. I have really missed her.

This week is a last hurrah for my sister's beach living. She invited the family, and some of us were lucky enough to have the time and inclination to come. So today, I spent a few hours in the sun.

Amazingly, I did not get burnt (much), caught drinking beer on the beach (the guy in front of us who really didn't want to dump his left in handcuffs), and I didn't get (much) salt in my eyes. Of course, despite asking a cop about our questionable parking space, we got a parking ticket.

Must. Eat. Lettuce. Must Eat Lettuce. Musteatlettuce.

2011-06-26T15:07:00.000-04:00

Lettuce.

In case you are wondering, that is what we are getting in this year's harvest. The weather this spring must have been super great for lettuce, and it really looks wonderful. We have had delicious, perfect heads of both red and green leaf lettuce, each week. Most weeks, we have gotten two heads, supplemented by as much as 3/4 of a pound of a lettuce mix. For those unaware - 3/4 pounds of lettuce fills a plastic grocery shopping bag nearly all the way.

We have gotten other things - radishes, blueberries, red raspberries, carrots, cucumbers, summer squash, kale, rainbow chard, and scallions to name a few - but I have been successfully using each if these items before the next pick up.

I am way behind on the lettuce. I finally managed to prep and tear up the last head of green leaf from last week's pick up. Not actually use it, just prep it.

The current google search typed into my list is "lettuce uses" because I just can't get excited for salads. I pack lettuce in my lunch box, and plan to have a large salad as the dinner meal. But when it comes time to eat, I have routinely decided a take out burrito or large sub would be a more satisfying choice.

Unfortunately, my google search wasn't overly successful. I found recipes for "lettuce soup", "brasied lettuce with peas and onions" (cooked chunks of lettuce), "braised zucchini and lettuce tart with tapenade", and "Asian chicken lettuce wraps".

Lettuce soup sounds disgusting, and I thought the brasied lettuce had potential until I realized it would be cooked until mushy. I guess I will make the lettuce wraps and endure the comments from my peanut gallery suggesting that fried won-tons would be better. I would not disagree, but would pretend I did, so Shhhh!

I guess I will have to stick to salads...

Do You Believe In Magic?

2011-06-19T16:45:00.001-04:00

I learned a new trick today - but first, the Event:

Yesterday's Event was the Annual City Sand Competition, which I have participated in since 2009. It seems to occur each year during a time when my little blog goes on unexpected hiatus (aka writers block), so I guess the last time I wrote about it was here. This year's theme was "A Day at the Races" which was chosen because Baltimore was selected to host a Grand Prix Race on Labor Day. It does seem like a cool idea to race these fast cars through a city as a racetrack, but I will probably watch on the local news as I can only imagine the traffic and crowding will be unpleasant to say the least. We did a model called "Gridlock" which depicts the downtown area (with some artistic license) with the race track twisting and turning throughout.

My personal favorite was this one, depicting a "Baltimore Hon" driving a race car. (You non-Baltimoreans probably don't know what this is...think "Hairspray" and check out the section on this Wikipedia page.)

The competition winner was this one, which was a bit too abstract and artsy for my taste, but this is what you will have when architects start making things out of sand. (It is called "Horsepower.")

OK, so that's the Event. Now for the trick. As anyone living near a city will know, parking in the touristy areas is a nightmare, and most of us locals have devised alternate means for parking. The goal, of course, is to park for free or very little moolah, without getting ticketed or towed. Now that I have been to Hoboken, NJ, I will also add "Being Booted" to that list.

If I am going to the city for a short time, I occasionally use the validation policy of a local business to park for free. For instance, there is a bakery in Little Italy that will validate for up to three hours, and all you need to do is buy an Italian gelatto. I am all in favor of buying a dessert anyway, so it is win-win. Whole Foods has a similar policy, so as long as you do not object to paying $6 for a loaf of bread (incidentally this is the cheapest thing available at Whole Foods), you are good to go.

For the sand competition, which required parking for about 7 hours, I chose a slightly further away parking garage that only charges $3 a day on weekends. Triumphantly, I walked back to the garage and placed the yellow plastic chip into the machine, and paid my $3. I got a second chip and receipt, then walked to my car, which is visible from the machine. I sleepily opened my trunk and loaded up my bucket and various other sand sculpting gear, then performed the "Disappearing Chip Trick".

(?)

I had NO IDEA where the chip was. I got out of the car, and re-searched the trunk. I looked through my cooler, and all of its pouches. I checked the bucket, I moved around some of the other random items.

The last place I saw the chip was in my left hand. I was searching along the bottom of the cooler for my keys, and I found them at the bottom. So the cooler was the logical choice. I tore that sucker apart, and then sighed.

Well, I still had the receipt, which clearly stated that approximately 4 minutes prior, I had a chip, and I paid my parking fee. Maybe, just maybe, I reasoned, if I slide my credit card at the exit, the machine would know that I had paid and would graciously allow me to leave.

I know, people, I know. But I was tired and covered in sand.

When this plan did not work, I checked the office for a parking garage employee, and I actually found one there. I showed him my paperwork, and he explained that the fee for a lost token was $17, because the tokens cost them $14 each.

With a huge sigh, I tell him I will have to pay the $14 fee. He says, no, it is $17. But I had already paid three. Feeling extremely foolish, I tried to justify that I should not have to pay $17 for a lost token fee, because I had kept my original token for 7 hours, and lost the new one in 7 seconds. For crying out loud it was probably RIGHT there on the floor!

He refuses to accept this argument, says he has no way to charge me any random amount, and I will have to pay $17 more. I got the manager's name and card, thinking I would have to take up this argument later. I just wanted to get out of the freakin' garage. I tried (unsuccessfully) to console myself knowing that I would have paid $20 for parking anyway, had I parked closer to the venue.

I returned to the car with the thought that Yellow Tokens Do Not Magically Disappear. This thing exists. And I would not let it beat me. I said before that I tore my cooler apart. This time I mean, I TORE that sucker apart! I took out every article in that trunk and shook it, trying to find that stupid plastic coin. Meanwhile, I was alternately trying not to laugh at myself - only I could pay $20 to park in a $3 garage - and cry - how? how could I be so freakin' irresponsible?? How could this thing just vanish into thin air? My very sense of reality was being challenged by a STUPID PLASTIC TOKEN!!

I backed the car through the garage (safely) to the original spot. I tried this plan that "We Who Lose Things Often" know. (By the way, I do not lose things often anymore. I thought I had solved this problem.) It's called "Brother Find Its Brother" and essentially you try to re-create the Incident. You drop the same item in the same spot, only this time, you watch it roll and see where it goes. It actually works pretty well, though on rare occasions you will lose two items instead of one.

I did not have another plastic coin, so I decided on one of those metal ones made by the government. I went back to the spot (now taken by another car, which was still warm and making all those clinky noises that cars will do when recently parked). I dropped the nickel, and it went - nowhere. I had thought it might roll down the ramp, or bounce spectacularly. But, no. I tried again and again with the same results. I dropped the nickel and it landed - right there. Let me tell you, this was very frustrating.

I looked at my phone - I had been in the garage for 45 minutes. Searching. For the Disappearing Token.

Muttering various expletives under my breath, I went to the machine and pressed the "Lost Ticket" button. "Please press the help button for assistance", it says. There is no help button. I pressed the button again, perhaps harder than strictly necessary, and also called the phone line to speak to a person, which rang and rang with no answer. These steps were repeated until I got my card stuck in the machine. For future reference, forcing a machine to do something is a pretty futile effort.

I showed up again at the attendant's door and told him my card was stuck in the machine. He asked why I was using the machine, and I told him, because I can't find the token and I have to pay the $17 to get out. I tried not to be angry with him, because he wasn't the jackass that lost a token in less time than it takes to blow ones nose. But I was angry about the injustice of the world.

He says that the machine doesn't work for that, and I was to pay up front when I forgot a ticket. Well, it doesn't say that on the machine. The machine has a button for "Lost Ticket". This seemed like information which could have been more clearly stated the last time I was in here, trying to get him to refund my $3 so I could go pay $17. He sighed.

He accompanied me to the machine, and used his key to open the door and get my card out. It took about 13 minutes to restart the machine and for a minute there, it said it was out of service and I thought I took out the whole garage payment system. But it restarted, and he pulled a token from his pocket to test it out. I looked at it, wondering if I would seriously stoop to stealing the thing to get out, and, if so, would I successfully not get any dents in my car?

"Drive around front," he said, putting the token back in his pocket. He met me at the gate, then told me he had talked to the manager, who said I could pay the $3 parking fee to get out. I bit my tongue on the fact that I had actually already paid that, and told him thank you. Unfortunately, as I was not truly angry at him, I may have seemed ungrateful and still angry. That freakin' token was still gone! I also bit my tongue when he told me, for future reference, that the policy is to pay $17 for a lost token. Oh! Really? So I shouldn't lose the token? Oh, ok, no problem. Had I only known before, that losing the token was bad, I'd have saved myself a lot of trouble!

Instead, I sighed. He was doing me a favor. Which I did not deserve. I said, "I am sorry for the trouble I have caused you," and drove away.

And there you have it: The Disappearing Token Trick, also known as, "The Trick to Paying As Much as Possible for Parking". Though I am even better at this in Hoboken. What can I say? It is a gift.

Phishtisical Improbability

2011-06-13T22:16:00.002-04:00

Suppose there is a Phish Show near your home theater. Your "Home Theater" is the one closest to your house, and really any theater within a two hour radius. As a younger person, my home theaters were in PA - Hershey or State College or Pittsburgh, and NJ - Camden (which is just outside of Philly). Now, my home theater centers around Baltimore, so we have the Merriweather Post Pavilion in Columbia, MD, followed by the Philadelphia area venues. At your "Home Theater" you are more likely to randomly run into someone you know, and you are increasingly less likely to meet an acquaintance at a show that is further away. So let's say, for arguments sake, that you know 1% of the population at your "next of kin" home theater. Out of 25,000 people at the Show, you know 250 of them. But, at your "extended family" theater, you know, like, half that many. Say 125.

Narrowing further, there are only 12,500 seats under the pavilion, so you might know as many as 62.5 of those people. (I always feel bad for that extra fraction of a person...) Anyway, the odds of you sitting RIGHT NEXT to someone you know, without any pre-meditated planning, according to my calculations, is about 0.000000002. It's like one in a billion. Or one in a billion billion. (Full disclosure: I actually got a D in Statistics. Eh.) The point is, it's statistically unlikely (I am like 70 percent sure) that you would be assigned a seat in a show of thousands, next to a person you know. But that is what happened at Phish Show #1.

Phish Show #2 was the normal, enjoyable experience of a typical show, with nothing more statistically amazing than my normal ability to telepathically connect with the band and tell them what song to play. We danced in the lawn with the rest of the sweaty hippies, and at one point I caught a glow stick with a cup of beer, because I had two beers and was unable to deflect the glow.

Phish Show #3? We didn't get Lawn Seats. We didn't get section 200 tiered seats. We didn't even get section 100, front row seats. We got "General Admission Pit". Yes, after a combined 65 shows, Adam and I were selected at random to be in the pit with 150 of our closest friends. (I am 80 percent sure that getting into the pit is statistically less likely than sitting next to a person you know.) It was amazing to be close enough to the band to practically look up their noses. Alas, I feared for my camera and didn't bring it inside. I did have my phone, and I proceeded to take some low resolution crappy pics:

Y'all may not appreciate this, but seriously, go out there with a camera that does not zoom or flash, and just try to get something decent. Only then will you understand how freakishly close to the front we had to be. Also the show was super. Who needs music videos when you can get the real thing??

Last, but not least, the odds that I would remember my phone, get service to the phone in a crowd of thousands, AND have enough battery power to take 25 pictures? It's not just improbable, it's damn near impossible. One in a billion trillion.

Excuse me while I go to play the lottery.

The Cool TV

2011-06-07T22:00:00.001-04:00

I was extremely, inexcusably, deprived as a child.

I don't like to talk about it much...

....but....

(deep breath)

you see, um,

well, I'll just come out and say it.

We did not get cable.

There, I said it.

We did not get cable.

"You Can't Do that on Television"? Wha...?

"H - B - O??" What's that stand for?

"Nickelodeon"? You say? Are you yodeling?

The worst? (Even bigger breath): We did not get M-TV.

Oh, how much better my life would have been if I could have watched M-TV. My friends, one by one, got cable. My freakin' grandparents had cable. The cable man came to the house and asked my parents, if they installed the line in our rural area, would we buy it? Yes! Yes! I told the man. Even if we ONLY get M-TV, we will buy it. But for some reason, he wanted only to talk to my mother.

When we went to my grandparents house, I watched M-TV the ENTIRE time. This was back when they had these things called "music videos". They were super cool. I have very distinct snippets of knowledge of these videos. Like, I have only seen videos from the times I was visiting, but I saw them about 70 times. For instance, in the summer of 1987, Whitney Houston's "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" featured Whitney with a long blond wig (crimped of course). Also popular that summer: the Grateful Dead's "Touch of Grey", George Micheal's "You Gotta Have Faith", Paula Abdul with some cartoon cat.

One Christmas, I am thinking circa 1990, we had Guns and Roses "November Rain" (oh Slash! You were SO cool!); and Tom Petty's "Last Dance with Mary Jane".

(And for the record, I could have looked these up on the internet to see if memory serves me, but I didn't.)

So you get the idea.

Now, ironically, we still do not get cable, and my parents have a satellite dish because those cable guys never did install the lines. I might consider cable if M-TV still played music videos. But alas....there is no chance to make up for a deprived childhood.

Or is there? (she says with one eyebrow raised)

We now get a number of digital antenna channels, and most intriguing are the second or third string programs. Our Fox network is channel 45-1. On 45-2, there are usually re-runs of recent Fox programs, and 45-3 plays nothing but country music videos. Weird, right? There is also a channel that plays old bizarro movies, primarily from the 70's and 80's. And there is also "The Cool TV" on the CW 54-2 network.

The Cool TV. Just Music.

They play old concerts from the 70's and 80's, old obscure punk and rap videos, old pop videos (my fave!). They even play new videos - bet you didn't even know people still made them!

So I guess I can reclaim some of my lost childhood. I hope Slash comes on soon!

Strawberry Fields Forever

2011-05-31T18:27:00.001-04:00

The Farm is back! For those who were reading last year, you may remember that I promised to tell you about the great fresh veggies and post recipes for everything I got in a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program. Yeah...sorry about that. Really though, recipes are abundant online, so I probably won't post those. I may occasionally add a link if I find something super fantastic.

First, a little about CSA's, in case you ain't never heard of 'em:

This is becoming popular in the US as people become more cognizant of where their food comes from, and thankfully, people like Tom and Sarah at Flying Plow Farm have the entrepreneurial spirit to go out there and, well, farm. The business model is that people pay in the fall or winter for a share of the farm's crops, to be delivered or picked up weekly during the summer. This gives the farmers the capital needed to sow the fields, and it also gives them some assurance of their income for the year, regardless of how well their crops grow or sell. The "investors" get a huge amount of fresh produce, usually picked the day of pick up, that is organic and locally grown. It's win-win - because there is no major transport or packaging for the produce, there is less of an environmental impact, and the veggies taste better, are more nutritious, and help small local businessmen (aka "farmers") compete with the huge farm corporations. The shares run a bit more than you might normally spend on produce, but not much. I paid $450 for my half share, which is good for 2-3 people, and I have easily gotten $25 worth of produce each week until Thanksgiving. It worked out to about $30 a week. Most farmers are actually willing to negotiate on the price, I've heard. So if you can't afford a CSA, talk to the farmer and see if you might be able to work in the fields a bit or pay in smaller increments.

So.

As I was saying, the farm is back, and unlike last year, I hope to maintain the blog often enough to tell y'all more about it. This week, I picked up red leaf lettuce, baby spinach, "yukina savoy" (a leafy green similar to spinach), kale, baby turnips (I am not a huge fan), bok choy (aka Chinese cabbage, and definitely a new favorite veggie), and strawberries. Strawberries were a "you-pick" item, which means I have to pick them myself, but I can pick as many as I want. Naturally, I picked only a sensible gallon. Just kidding!! I picked two gallons. Plus the quart I got as part of the normal share.

Let me just say: they are deeee-vine! I can't get enough of them! Each time I open the fridge, I pop a berry. I have had them for breakfast, as a side for lunch, on salad at dinner, as snacks in between, and for dessert. I thought of making a strawberry pie, but I really do not love strawberry pie. I prefer them plain, or on top of something. So I bought some ice cream today. Can't wait!

What else, pray tell, did I make this week, what with all my green-leafed veggies? Well, I learned last year, that the green leafies will be here for a few more weeks at least, and I learned quickly that leaf-centric meals are not generally crowd pleasers. I cannot, for instance, serve up a bit of cooked greens, tossed in olive oil and gently sauteed with a few choice spices. Even though this is a great way to serve greens, the man in my life will not even try it, and if he does, he will make "that face" which I reserve for strong rums, and look at me like, "See? I told you."

I find this very annoying.

But, I have successfully made meals that we both like, and used my greens. After a while, I realized you can just toss them in with whatever you were planning to cook. Maybe not a lot at a time, but chop them up fine, and throw them in with your casserole, spaghetti sauce, or stir fry, even put them on your pizza. If used correctly, your greens will silently add some nutrition to your man's diet, and he will only occasionally ask if you are trying to poison him. To which you will reply, oh yes, it was my plan all along to string you along and get you to move in with me, and eat my food, only to poison you with nutrients that do not happen to be found in beer and pizza.

Has anyone noticed that men are like toddlers?

Just an observation.

Anyway, I made stir fry with some marinated chicken, onions, carrots, the turnips (finely chopped as I do not love them) and bok choy. I made some pasta with kale and black beans, tossed with pesto I made last year and froze. I made spinach salad with strawberries and mandarin oranges. I plan to make salmon with a strawberry mango salsa, enchiladas with yukina savoy (basically a regular enchilada recipe with the greens tossed into the filling). Bok choy soup for my lunches, and kale and eggs with a side of strawberries for breakfasts. I also made some rice pudding for the first time, and it was so stinkin' easy! I plan to top it with strawberries!

And the best news?! I nearly smooshed a toad in the carport last night, and the strawberries in my own little patch have yielded two slug-free fruits! Yay!

Junk

2011-05-29T15:29:00.002-04:00

We all have them - the dreaded "junk drawers". In our house, the junk drawer was in the kitchen, next to the less junky stuff like pens and rubber bands. Though this drawer had degenerated into junk in it's own right, the true junk drawer contained things that one would never ever seek to retrieve...but for some reason, no one wanted to throw away.

The years went by, and half hearted attempts to rid the house of "the junk drawer" did surface from time to time. But what to do with these useless trinkets? They didn't "belong" anywhere. Or rather, if they did "belong" as in the case of small game pieces, it would take hours to locate all the games and deposit these pieces in their respective boxes. Nor was it appropriate to toss a game piece. Perhaps we would search out those pieces when we next played the game. In the meantime...into the junk drawer it returned.

Now we are all grown up and the games, if still in the house, await grandchildren to play with them. So my mother finally cleaned out the junk drawer. And she found our memories - drawer sized.

She made "the junk collage" with nothing more than a shadowbox and some glue:

Can you find...
...the house key that was replaced when I got home before my parents in the first grade, and decided to "break in" with a screwdriver?

...the newspaper clipping announcing the results of the Ugly Duckling Swim Team, mentioning both my sister and me?

...the swimming medal from one such race, likely brought home with great pride and lots of celebration?

...the red button from a red corduroy coat my mother wore for several years?
....the Rainbow Bright hairtie worn by my sister and me around the same time?

...the matches from Conneaut Lake Park, where our family visited for a "Dream Picnic" each year?

...the business cards and nametags for my father for Khols Building Products, Allied Building Products, and Weidenhammer Systems?

...the "It's Rad to be Plaid" button I was forced to wear in junior high, promoting Catholic schools? (note, this is obviously unworn)

...the game pieces from "Connect 4", "Memory", "Bedbugs", "Gears", "Monopoly", and "Hi-Ho-Cherry-O"?

...the rabies vaccination tags for one of our childhood dogs?

...the GATX magnet, from the train manufacturing company that employed my grandfather?

...the US Air keychain, from the company that employed my cousin?

...the Montgomery County Head Start exhibitor name tag, where my mother worked?

...the caterpillar magnet made by my sister in nursery school?

...the candle holder, from the days when my mother was regularly attending cake decorating class?

...the two cloth diaper pins, from the days when my mother was busy with other things?

...the Crayola crayon box, belonging to my mother when she was only dreaming of a family? (not sure how this came to be in the junk drawer...)

...the food stamp?

...the jack?

...the ballet slipper pin (mine from age 5), the I Heart Bears pin, the Strawberry Shortcake pin, and the Girl Scout pin?

...the Girl Scout Troop number patch?

...the Tulpehocken Soccer Club patch?

...Barbie's spoon and hair dryer, and a goblet she likely used, but was not likely "official Mattel craftsmanship"?

...the Cracker Jacks prize featuring a baseball player?

...the Transformer from a cereal box, likely given to my brother but probably stolen because it would not be likely he would be deemed worthy of the cereal box prize?

...the birthday candle, and the cake insert featuring 101 Dalmations' "Lucky the Dog"?

...the Little Wooden Boy that invokes no memory in me?

...the Smurfs shoestring I wore in kindergarten, or the beaded bracelet I made in junior high?

...the magnet indicating it was Tiff's Turn to do the dishes? - she was always hiding it and replacing it with "Nicole's Turn"!

...the Penn State keychain, and the "Penn State: We Call It Home" pin?

...the coin wrapper for quarters, left over from the days when my dad had us sort all his change and separate out the "special year" coins?

...the beer cap?

...the letter "A" magnet which hung in its heyday on the fridge with 25 other letters?

...the Easter egg dye kit "dipper"?

...the tickets for Cirque du Soleil, given to my mother for mothers day?

...the Strawberry Shortcake protractor?

...the seashell from one of our Florida vacations?

...the candle from Quaker Steak and Lube in Sharon, PA?

...Did I miss anything?

Obsession

2011-05-21T08:37:00.000-04:00

My loyal Constant Readers may remember my angst when deciding to move to a house with bathroom tiles the color of Easter eggs. For the rest of you, have a look at this:

It is my original purple bathroom, complete with a cushy toilet seat donning embroidered pink and purple butterflies. This bathroom is also the size of a tiny closet, and has only a three inch deep medicine cabinet for storage.

Before moving in, I was consumed (obsessed) with this bathroom. Ripping out the tile was not possible on our budget and level of expertise, so I had to settle for finding the perfect paint and the ideal accessories to modernize this hideous pastel.

I decided black was the best bet and I went a-searchin for a shower curtain. I spent approximately seven hours one Saturday, going to K-Mart, Wal-Mart, Target, and all the home stores in the mall, including Macy's (they had a sale and were only charging a leg that day.)

Seven hours.

Let that just sink in for a minute.

Seven.

OK, so I decided upon a so-so shower curtain, mostly black, but with some gray highlights. I went home, slightly elated, but not overly happy with my purchase.

The next day, I began a search for The Perfect Curtains, and found The Perfect Shower Curtain at Khols in approximately 30 seconds. Why was I even in the bathroom department?

Anyway, The Perfect Shower Curtain was white with yellow flowers. The flowers had black stems, and the center of the flowers were pastel purple that actually matched my tile. The curtain sold for $60, the matching towels and bath mat were equally overpriced, as were the trash can, soap dish, and toothbrush holder. I had already hung the not so perfect shower curtain, so I would not be able to return it. I called my brother, who was also moving to a new place, so see if he would take it. Unfortunately, my other sister had already hooked him up with a coordinated yet manly ensemble of blues, greens, and browns.

I could not justify replacing the curtain I had owned for one day with The Perfect (but expensive) Shower Curtain. I did purchase some towels and the bathmat.

I find myself in the bathroom aisles of stores every time I go.

(Obsession)

I never found gray towels when searching specifically for them, and now they are everywhere. Black, too.

(Obsession)

I have found shower curtains and themed wastepaper baskets that would look great in each of my pastel bathrooms, numerous times over.

(Obsession)

I finally broke down and bought a similar shower curtain to "The Perfect One" when I needed a new bath mat. The mat with the flowers looked nice in the store but it looked disgusting when it was wet. I would clean it with a vacuum, and even ran it through the washing machine, but it always looked gross. I grew tired of stepping on it with my bare feet on a daily basis.

I got a black bath mat, and a white shower curtain with black and gray swirls on it. It's pretty. I decided I would hang it when the current curtain became yucky, and tucked it away. I hoped this would cure me.

(Obsession)

Two weeks ago, I found the soap dispenser in the purple bathroom in the sink, with a hole where Adam had dropped it. Yay!! Time to get a new one! And a trash can to match!

(Obsession)

The new can and soap holder were in place before he even got out of the shower. I thanked him for breaking the old one and invited him to break as much bathroom stuff as he liked.* (Next up - the toilet bowl brush holder...)

(Obsession)

In the back of my mind, I knew I should have bit the bullet and bought The Perfect Curtain back on that fateful day. Maybe this was the reason I was drawn to bathroom accessories But shower curtain stock seems to rotate, and I never saw that curtain again. Until....last weekend! Yay!

Ahhhhh. Much better. (Though I wish I had put the mouthwash away before taking this.)

* I should probably mention here that Adam blames me for the soap dispenser breakage, claiming I placed it close to the edge of the sink. I swear this was unintentional.

Vacation Planning

2011-05-14T19:46:00.000-04:00

I am not much for planning. My "parties" tend to be spontaneous get-togethers in which most people do not come because they have already made plans. My "vacations" tend to be taking the place of someone who was supposed to go with a group, or family outings planned entirely by others. My "dinners with friends" tend to be suggested by friends at locations they want to go. My "girls nights out" tend to be for movies or plays that others wish to see.

I am totally and completely cool with this. You see, I am willing to go just about anywhere with just about anyone. I love being around complete control-freak, type A persons with itineraries, lists, agendas, and penchants for exotic beers. If I did not know these people, I would lead an extremely boring life and put very few miles on my car.

When I first met Adam, he seemed to be one of the types with ideas, plans, places to go, and people to see. In the first two years we were together, we went to Las Vegas (his company trip), Niagara Falls (his idea), and California (we stayed with my uncle, but most of our trips were planned by him). Then, he decided to save money for grad school, and these trips were no longer suggested.

Sadly, it is up to me. Lord help us. I have a hard time deciding on my favorite type of cake. And there are so many freakin decisions to make with a vacation - where to go, when to go, how much to spend, what to do, where to stay, what travel arrangements are needed. I guess this is why travel agents exist.

*******
Flash forward....I have just visited many travel agent sites. Travel? Is freaking expensive! The first few sites, I looked at the many zeros behind the dollar signs and thought, perhaps this is the price for a group of 2 or 4 people. No! It is for ONE person!! And does not include airfare, food, or beer!

I am going to need some help here. I want to go somewhere. Sometime. For some price that doesn't require a loan. Generally, we like outdoorsey stuff - we loved Yosemite National Park in California...but the sky's the limit. I think that's part of the problem...
.

Thank you, fellow Blogger!

2011-05-09T18:27:00.003-04:00

A long time ago, when I was a fourth year in college - it actually was a five year program. Really. - I worked for a construction company. I ran the office and marked the quantities of concrete poured for Interstate 99 round-about Bellefonte, PA. This was probably one of the most boring jobs ever, but I did learn a few things.

Anyhoo.

They sent everyone a Christmas present and card, even lowly interns like me. My gift was actually pretty nice - a utility knife with 15 razors stored inside a cartridge. To change the blade, all you do is rotate the inner cartridge and slide the new blade up. The knife came complete with the company logo on the side, a little sheath, and instructions.

For most of the last ten years (yikes!) since I owned this knife, it sat in a drawer and got very little use. However, I took it with me when I went to help my parents with their New Room construction. It proved very handy. And then it disappeared.

I searched my parents house, but never found it.

Flash forward about two years to last month, when I was asked to go to our Lakeland, Florida office to look at some building cracks. I packed as much as I could fit in my bag, including some three ring binders, a clip board, my camera, and my "Engineers Bag". (Sort of like a doctor's bag, only mine contains a tape measure and various other tools useful for looking at structural issues.)

And that is where a nice man at Airport Security found my utility knife with its fifteen razor blades. He really was nice about it. He didn't confiscate the whole thing, but used my little "all-in-one" tool with a little screwdriver (also not allowed on plane) to loosen the screw, and then he pulled out each razor.

It was a tad ridiculous.

It turns out, the knife takes special blades, and I wasn't able to figure out what kind. The company logo on the side presumably replaced the actual manufacturer logo, and those instructions were loooong gone. Google search actually took a while and I was about to give up, when I found the answer on a Blog.

Woohoo!

Thank you, fellow Blogger! It turns out not all of us choose to ramble pointlessly!

A more poignant search revealed that I can buy replacement cartridges from a store in Minnesota, and apparently, no where else. Also, shipping costs more than the actual item. So I stocked up and bought the 7-pack. If I use these are the same rate, I now have enough blades for the next 70 years. (Or 7 plane trips.)

Wanted: Toad Roommate

2011-05-07T18:56:00.000-04:00

Last year, slugs ate every one of my strawberries, the greedy bastards. Well, not this year! I am told that toads will eat slugs, and they will willingly come to stay as long as you provide them a house. A toad likes to live in a mini cave - basically a pile of rocks with an opening. And so, as my little green strawberries are just beginning to form inside their flowers, I went outside today and constructed the sweetest toad residence on the block. (I certainly hope toads are on the internet...who am I kidding?! Every species is now on the internet!

So, first allow me to show some photos of the fabulous, crime free and certainly non-toad eating yard in which your dream house is situated:

First, you've got your flowers....

your trees....

...and your groundskeeper, Buddy (shown on his break).

I mean, seriously, what Toad wouldn't want to live in this fabulous lap of luxury??

ALL THIS COULD BE YOURS!! (Free lodging and all-you-can eat slugs!)

I only hope I am not creating an "old lady who swallowed a fly" situation here...

What I Expect When You're Expecting

2011-05-05T18:47:00.000-04:00

Disclaimer for any random googler trying to find true medical advice: All information below is based on hearsay, speculation, anecdotal evidence, and episodes of Friends. I am not a medical professional, and, in fact, think that most things medical are "icky".

This post is in honor of my many friends who are pregnant or who have had babies, most recently my friend Madeleine (healthy baby boy born Tuesday), and Maria (due this fall).

I have never been "preggers" but I have about a billion friends who have experienced the joy of pre-motherhood. I find my knowledge has expanded exponentially as I learn something new from each mommy-to-be. I do not plan on using this knowledge firsthand (sorry mom), so I figure I will pass it on to you, my Constant Readers.

Frequently Asked Questions:

How Did You Know I Was Preggers?
7. You stopped trying to quit smoking, and you quit smoking.
6. You said you had a headache and could not attend a beerfest, despite attending one the year before with a headcold.
5. You refuse to eat soft cheese. I am not sure why.
4. You quit my volleyball/football/(insert sport here) team.
3. You are suddenly nauseated by Chick-fil-A, Subway, pretty much all fast food places, grocery stores, and the gym.
2. You stop going to the gym.
AND the number one way to tell you are Preggers: You order a sprite when everyone else orders margaritas.

When Should I Tell Friends that I am Preggers?
Ummm....hello? We already know. So you might as well get it over with early. You may keep us in the dark about the baby's name or sex (though you will not get very cute clothes for your baby should you choose this as all the cutest clothes are ridiculously gender-specific.)

What Should I Expect When I'm Expecting:
6. Almost everyone is "high risk" so don't take it personally. If you are over 35, having twins, have high blood pressure, have diabetes, blue eyes, or excellent insurance, you are "high risk."
5. You may experience high blood pressure while you are pregnant even if you do not normally have issues. This will make you high risk.
4. You may get rashes, zits, swollen feet, and varicose veins.
3. You may suddenly have an urge to eat a Slim Jim even if you have never had one before.
2. You may have to go on "bedrest" which sounds awesome until you find yourself in a bed on your birthday playing Scrabble for the 20th time that day.
1. Expect the unexpected. Some of the unexpected things can be joyous (I never had morning sickness!) or scary (my test results were abnormal so they had us do more tests and wait for weeks and then it was fine) or downright sad. But you'll always have your friends to help you through.

Should I Have an Epidural?
Some people do and some people don't. Do your research and make the choice that's right for you. I'll support you either way. This also goes for your child's name (even if it's Bear Baer), your child's diet, your child's circumcision or baptism or whatever else. I solemnly promise to be ok with whatever and to not offer advice unless you ask for it.

I also solemnly swear to buy your baby toys that make obnoxious noises.

I've Got Blisters on Me Fingers!

2011-05-03T21:52:00.001-04:00

I placed a few tarps in the barren expanse that is my backyard last fall, with the intention of killing the grass and planting a garden. The tarps (purchased more for their affordable two-for-five-dollar price than for actual plan) turned out to be a bit small. I figured that this would be okay, despite comments from multiple galleries of peanuts, because I know how hard gardening is.

One of my favorite books when I was a child was "The Secret Garden" which is a heartwarming tale about a spoiled rich girl whose parents are killed. She is sent to live with a mysterious (and even richer) uncle and is pretty much neglected, as she has months and months to wander aimlessly over the grounds. Anyway, she finds a garden and begins fixing it up since it has also been neglected (what a twist!) for years. This book made gardening seem enjoyable, and easy. It never mentioned that much gardening is, in fact, done outdoors. With bugs. And heat from a blaring mid-summer sun. It also never mentioned that weeding requires kneeling on one's knees for hours, and how picking vegetables requires bending over - for hours. This book never once warned readers that weeding is required daily, and that adorable woodland creatures will eat your plants and dig burrows in your garden. Well, Constant Readers, thank goodness you have me. Without me, you'd think gardening is all bluebirds and butterflies. Sure. But it is also mosquitoes, worms, and groundhogs.

So, the garden is small. And untilled. I called a tiller guy, and he wants five whole days without rain before he will come! Five! I don't think we've gone five days without rain since March, and then it was thirty degrees out. So tonight, I decided to do it myself with a pitchfork. I am not sure this is going to work, but since my only goal is to do better at gardening than last year, I will risk it. (BTW, last year I got a few strawberries that were eaten by slugs, zero tomatoes, and no peppers. If I successfully grow ONE edible thing this year, I will be tickled pink.)

New thing to add to unpleasantness of gardening: blisters. Next time I will wear gloves. And oh yes, there will be a next time. In two hours, I only managed a third of my itty bitty garden.

As I read this, I wonder what is driving me to garden at all. Good question. I guess it is this emptiness of yard. I feel like SOMETHING should be done, and at least gardening is something I have experience with. I also have plans for flowers, which for some reason I think will be relaxing and enjoyable. You see, I read this book once....

Easter Candy is too Cute

2011-04-24T14:16:00.002-04:00

I'm not much of a candy eater. My eating vices include pizza, chocolate cookies, and baked goods in general. But candy? Nah. Sometimes, I do enjoy a piece of very very dark chocolate. But in general, candy can safely sit out in plain site in my house for months, even years, until I throw it out or some hapless guest takes a nibble from a seemingly enticing, but actually four year old, dried out, melted and re-hardened, shapeless mass of sugar.

In general, you can count on me to not eat your special piece of candy, but now and again, if the mood strikes me, I will have a piece. There is, however, one way of absolutely ensuring that I will not touch a piece of candy: shape it into the adorable mold of a cute woodland or barnyard creature. Even as a small child, I was unable to eat the sweet little bunnies and chicks enjoyed by so many of the other kids. But every year, I found the darling delectables in my Easter basket. As a kid, the bunnies were inevitably devoured by my siblings and parents. In college, they sat for a while before a drunken roommate would bite their heads off. After college, they would accompany me in a box through a few moves until they were unrecognizable enough for disposal without guilt.

Since I met Adam, he has dutifully handled the initial demise of my little bunnies. He chops them into little pieces, and he eats the faces. He is so helpful. Then he brings the carnage to me on a plate, not unlike the Easter feast itself.

But this year, a solution is finally reached:

Thanks to un-turn-offable flash of the phone's camera, this doesn't come through too well, but it's JUST the EARS!! At last! The chocolate industry has recognized my unfortunate plight.

You Will Want to Facebook Me

2011-04-19T22:14:00.001-04:00

I have never gone so long without a post. Frankly, I am sort of stuck, or rather, struck - with a case of writer's block. It all started back on February 20th (note - last post on February 19th!!). I was ready to talk about weight loss. Again.

My Constant Readers who joined me on Day One know that me wittle ole blog began as a Guide to Weight Loss. There were a few problems with that. First, I am a multi-dimensional, multi-talented, free-thinking Woman of the Tweens! (I guess that's the decade we're in, right?) But every day, I would type up my blog about how I was constantly striving to change my bad self. Someone who did not know me might infer from my blog (at that time) that I was unhappy with my body image, and by extension, with my life in general. And it simply was not (and is not) the case. I cannot honestly say that I wouldn't want to see myself in a mirror wearing a bikini and looking all sexy-hot, but I don't really obsess about this. Most of the time, I do not actually find my body repulsive. I just want to be healthy. So, I didn't like the negative tone of my blog.

Second issue was that I ran out of new topics. It was like, "Today, I'm going to write about eating less!" and the next day: "Today's topic is exercise!" Then: "Eat less!" and "Exercise more!" "Eat while exercising!" (not recommended by the way), and the cycle continued. My blogs were preachy and boring.

Last, I would get some great ideas for a post, but not always about the Official Blog Topic. And so my blog evolved into the mishmash of tangential musings you know and love today.

And while we are on that subject, I will just keep doing what I do, and launch into my unexpected inkling of an idea for a post: billboards.

So I was driving home from the city tonight to see a billboard that read, "YOU WILL WANT TO FACEBOOK US." Can I just say:

?

WTF does that mean? Become a friend on Facebook? Check out their Facebook page? Like them on Facebook? All of the above? Come on, my Younger Members. Help a gal out.

Peace.

Oh, and by the way! I lost 10.2 pounds in my 8-week program! (and gained 2.8 back in one week, in theory. Personally, I am blaming this on a change in scale placement at the gym. I believe gravitational forces are increased in the new location. It is absolutely unrelated to the pecan tarts and chocolate chip cookies purchased in a moment of weakness last week.)

Cheating

2011-02-19T19:12:00.002-05:00

You all know my new diet, spurred by joining the "Extreme Brickover Challenge" at my gym, officially began this week. You all know that I've already committed a lot of planning to the 8-week program. I created menus, made freezer-ready meals, and prepped dinners by chopping veggies ahead of time.

"Is this not a lot of work?" you ask, and I can tell you are hoping that I am just a crazy, obsessive compulsive basket case with a penchant for spreadsheets. You brush away my planning with the assured knowledge that when you choose to lose weight, you will simply begin eating less. No planning needed.

Oh, dear reader, how I wish you were right.

But it is just not the case. The reason I have so dreaded losing weight on purpose again is this (unfortunately crucial) planning stage. And even with planning, I still tend to falter as the week goes on. Sunday and Monday go better than planned, and I can't seem to find enough calories. It is effortless. Tuesday also goes well, though I have no trouble eating the allotted amounts. Wednesday? Not so good. Thursday through Saturday tend to get lost in anonymity, as I lose the muster to enter the 7 cookies and 4 beers I had throughout the evening onto my spreadsheet.

This week was admittedly going ever so slightly better. Until I cheated. That's right, I cheated!! On Thursday I was hunkering down and feeling guilty for the two meals out and the "tall" beer special of Wednesday. (Side note: I got salads for both meals, thank you very much...only later did I realize that one salad was easily 700 calories). I was not super hungry in the morning, but I figured this was due to the humungo salad (and beer and did I mention the crab pretzel appetizer?). I ate my breakfast anyway, knowing I would only screw up the diet more by being ravenously hungry at 10:30am.

But 10:30am came and went, and my mid morning snack remained uneaten. Lunch time also came and went, and it was just after 1pm that I felt pangs of pain in the stomach/intestinal region. Just as I was putting my head in my hands and thinking about how I sort of felt really truly horrible, one of the electrical engineers asked if I had talked to the mechanical guy about something. He said I should email, because mechanical guy is out sick - puking his guts out.**

Suddenly I remembered our landscape architect's "food poisoning" story from Monday. (She and her husband spent the day puking together on Valentine's Day - awww!) This was when a light bulb flashed on over my head, and just for good measure, my body clearly indicated that I should maybe get up and shuffle quickly to the bathroom.

About 40 minutes later, I surprised my cat by being home. At first, she was very excited to find that I would be spending my day cuddling with her on the couch. However, I think the cat may have actually been worried about me later in the day when I was huddled in a fetal position on the bathroom tile. Well, she may have just wondered about her eating situation since I was obviously in no hurry to refill her dish.

OK, so it wasn't super pleasant, but I am darn certain that I will have dropped a pound or two come the next weigh in. I ate a total of 421 calories that day (excluding the negative calories, as that is just too difficult to calculate). On Friday, I was still recovering, and not hungry at all. This is a highly unusual and downright improbable case. I have had severe colds, headaches, and hangovers, but never once lost my appetite during an episode of infirmity. I did eat three meals, and have also done so today, but it is more because I know I should than actual desire.

The question is, which is better? Eight weeks of planning and meticulous spreadsheet maintenance, along with hours of kitchen prep time? Or one day of misery?

Still working on that on that one.

** How on earth the mechanical guy could email while encumbered with this illness, I know not. I was barely able to turn on the television, and did so only in hopes that the sound would distract me from my misery. I tuned to "Blue Planet" and set it to repeat. It is a nature video which features soothing sounds such as ocean waves and whales and baby seals. Did you know that baby seals are abandoned by their mothers shortly after birth? Unable to move, they survive on their blubber for 18 weeks. As I considered my resemblance to this predicament, tears began to well up in my eyes...

Cleaning Out

2011-02-10T19:39:00.003-05:00

When you plan to prep meals for eight weeks, you create quite a hefty grocery list. I headed to the nearest store with my list in hand.

The nearest store is in a run down shopping center about five minutes from the house. Apparently, the shopping center owners have wanted to tear down the store so they could build something more prominent and visible from a busy street corner for years. But, when they bought the place, the old Acme had a lease, and they would not be swayed to break it. Over time, the owners have patiently waited out the lease. They have done no repairs or maintenance on the old building, and the parking lot has potholes the size of a Volkswagen. They remove only the bear minimum of snow, and the railings around the shopping cart return are rusting and bent.

However, the store itself seems to have a decent selection, and it is rarely crowded, even on Sunday. Also, it is super close. So I regularly navigate the gaping potholes and weave through the haphazard piles of snow to shop at the Acme. (Inevitably, Adam tells me to buy a pair of rocket roller skates while I am there.)

I have never had trouble finding even the most gourmet of ingredients at the Acme. But on Saturday, they were short on a few things:

Eerie, huh? Everything left was 50% off, and it was interesting to see the remains. In general, it was stuff you never think to buy at a grocery store. The crappy DVD's of movies like "Look Who's Talking Too" were marked for 50% off of $1.50, and still I had no interest. There were a ton of panty hose, about thirty cans of Raid, and Acme brand milk in a box. (Like juice boxes - unrefrigerated, and to me, potentially nauseating with flavors like vanilla and strawberry.) Beyond that there were bins of holiday junk, neatly separated into boxes labeled "Easter Stuff", "Halloween Stuff", and "Christmas Wreaths".

Next there were bags of sawdust used as bedding for your live-in rodent. Lots of them. (Bags - not rodents. Hopefully.)

The freezer section and the dairy section were still semi-stocked. I piled frozen manicotti and tortellini into my basket, but passed up the many varieties of Lean Pockets. I do like Lean Pockets, but they are not part of my current diet goals. Also, they would not fit into the basket because I had already loaded the pasta and several tubs of reduced price Ben and Jerry's pints. Ben and Jerry's claims Vanilla is their most popular flavor, but most of the poor, sad little pints remaining were Vanilla. There was also "Cinnamon Bun" and "Cherry Garcia" frozen yogurt that looked like it had been melted and re-frozen. (Tasted like it too.)

Throw in a couple gallons of $2 milk and nine Rubbermaid containers, and I spent $47 before I went to the store. For the record, the Ben and Jerry's Vanilla is pretty good, and I might buy Cinnamon Bun more often.

**Follow up advice: Always check the dates when gallons of milk are sold for 50% off of $2. I noted yesterday that my chocolate milk tasted "like they might have changed the recipe for Ovaltine". This morning, it was downright nasty and was marked "Sell By 02-01-11". I bought it on the 5th. This would probably explain the raging gas I experienced all night...

Desperate Times

2011-02-08T20:45:00.001-05:00

I can't seem to get back in to weight loss mode. There have been several jump starts, but the engine of desire to be healthy is stifled by Klondike bars. Regularly. I make all sorts of excuses - like how we have to grill the hamburgers in the freezer because we have no power, and how I must order the burger and fry special because it is only $7 and it comes with a beer (!).

It is not for total lack of trying. I had to attend a meeting with free pizza, and knowing I would be unable to eat fewer than three slices, I stopped on the way and paid for a healthy and delicious chicken salad. I even ate my salad as my colleagues praised my willpower. But, the meeting went on, and the smell of greasy, yummy, gooey pizza permeated the room. The salad was long gone, and folks got up for a second slice. At the end of the meeting, there was so much left!! That's when I cracked, and literally inhaled a slice of pizza. Seriously, I nearly choked on an olive.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. The gym has been advertising an 8-week program called the "Extreme Brickover" for the low price of $39.99. I am not totally sure what I signed up for, but sign up I did. It looks like they will offer nutrition tips and help from personal trainers, and it features a weekly weigh in. There are prizes for percentage of body weight lost and other mini-goals. I will know more after my first official weigh in ofnSaturday.

Mostly, signing up has created an uncontrollable urge to stuff my face and drink mocha lattes with whipped cream - while there's still time!! But last weekend, I began work on an eight-week eating plan, complete with my own pre-made meals. Lots of work, yes, but hopefully my meals will be ready fast enough to prevent me from eating chips-with-salsa-and-a-peanut-butter-bread-chaser daily as my meal cooks.

Egg-str, Egg-stra, Read All About It

2011-02-04T19:58:00.000-05:00

I was driving home from a party a few weeks ago. It was 1am on a Saturday night, and not many cars were on the winding back roads leading to my abode. The party was fun, but I was a bit eggsausted, as 1am is waaaay past my bedtime. A white hatchback quite similar to my own, but an older model, came speeding eggstremely fast in the opposite direction and there was an audible thunk as it flew by.

"What the heck was that?" we thought. Silently, I wondered if I had inadvertently drifted toward the center lane and smacked my rear view mirror on the passing car. It didn't seem like it...but the thunk did seem to emanate from the vicinity of the mirror.

"Probably a rock flew up," said my intoxicated passenger. This was possible, and rendered me blameless so I went with it, resolving to check for dents when I got home.

We arrived safely and soundly a few minutes later, and I looked at the car to see yellow liquid on the driver's side door. Luckily no dents. I figured some jerkface A-hole threw their soda and accidentally hit my car. "What a jerkface A-hole," I said, and then went to bed, figuring I would to go to a car wash in the morning.

In the light, however, things looked a little different:

Someone threw an EGG at my car! WTF and all that txtspk for profanity! This made me wish I had turned around and gotten a license plate for that Jerkface! A-Hole! With more Capitals! And Eggsclamation points!!!! And do you see that grayish mark on the side that you probably think is a smudge on your screen?

It's a chip in the paint:

Guess what? It was eggspensive ($250!!) to get this fixed, and required me to wash my car in below freezing temperatures. Plus, it really ticked me off.

Unfortunately, there is no real moral to this sad tale - other than "Don't throw eggs at people's cars", but I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume you know that. Still, it feels good to get it out there. Thanks for reading!

Any stories about random jerkfaces in your lives?? Post 'em in the comments!

Roughing It

2011-02-02T20:36:00.001-05:00

Hey man how's the weather? I know there are folks out there, maybe even my beloved Constant Readers, who've had it worse. I heard this morning that Oklahoma temperatures have reached -20 degrees (yes there's an intentional minus in there!). My brother in New Jersey told me the city has been piling snow on the side streets, and each storm brings the piles closer to his own personal street. I know flights have been canceled and states of emergency have been declared. NONETHELESS, I will continue to complain.

After my three hour commute the other day, the power went out and we built a fire. We lit some candles, fired up the kerosene lamps, and pretty much continued with what we were doing. I got my book light so I could keep reading (Mennonite in a Little Black Dress by Rhonda Janzen, which is pretty funny so far). Adam was playing chess on his laptop and still had plenty of battery power left. After a few hours, I got a blanket and pillow and decided to sleep in the living room. We have a giant sectional that seats eight (or more!) and sleeps two to three. So we both slept on the couch, with kitty in the corner between our heads.

I will pause here for you to say, "Awwww!"

I woke to silence at about 7am. Still no power, and this meant no heat. The fire was nearly extinguished so I stoked it up and looked out at the 12 inches of fresh snow on the road. I called work to let them know I would be in whenever the plow came through and buried myself once again in my cozy nest.

Around noon, we decided the power had been out for a bit longer than usual. You see, since moving to the middle of nowhere, we had become accustomed to the many outages. BGE (Baltimore Gas and Electric) is a contact on my cell phone. On January 27, I called the outage number because they usually give a time when we can expect power to be restored. I figured it would be any minute now.

Electronic BGE man says, "Your power will be restored by" (switch to even more electronic voice) "January. Twenty. Nine. at. eleven-thirty. P.M."

Yikes. We had to get more wood.

Thankfully, the power roared to life a mere eight hours later after I got back from the gym (and its shower!) on the 28th. I had just shoveled out the grill and was about to fire it up. If not for the house temperature of 57 degrees, I didn't mind losing power so much. Out of shear curiosity, we got the Internet up and running, and we checked out the BGE Facebook page to see the extent of the damage and outages.

Most people left comments about how the power company workers should be safe and thanked them for braving the unplowed roads to work in below freezing temperatures. Most of the rest of the people were humorously coping with their outage, saying things like, "I dare you to turn my power on by 11:30!"

But isn't it funny how we tend to hone in on the one negative idiot? This woman posted several times, and I just have to share, especially in light of a recent post about Internet idiots over at Mission Improvisational:

(This chick is apparently not too proud to have her name out there on a public page, but I'm going to omit it.)

Explain n0t til sunday the i hav had n0 p0wer f0r 24 hr n0w n0 water and n0 heat and 3 kids and pets and ive cald n0t til sunday thats n0t fair

Prety hard t0 send pets away whn we cnt get 0ut 0f 0ur driue way n0 heat n00 water 3 children n0 p0wer f0r alm0st 24 hr they say sunday ths is abrured

‎15 hr stil n0 power and yes i caled it in and they told me to relocate h0w co we do that if we cnt make it 0ut our drive way and have pets tryn t0 b undstading but its exstreamly cold

U al suck hav 3 kids and hav pets that r guna die cause they ned heat s thks

A few people offered advice to beat the cold, tips on how to keep perishable food from perishing, and consolations that it is not as bad as she thinks (or thnks, if that's your fancy). But this woman insisted on being dramatic. Luckily her internet access phone was still working, because it really wouldn't be roughing it without an audience.

Geesh!

Keep warm, Constant Readers!

Three Hour Tour

2011-02-01T23:04:00.002-05:00

Last week, we got about 3 inches of snow overnight. Snow has never been a huge bother for me. I shoveled out of the driveway and headed in to work at the usual time. Unfortunately, the roads weren't really plowed yet and it was a wee wittle bit slippy. But, I kept the speed to a sensible 20 miles an hour or so, and got to work in about an hour. Took twice as long, but all was well.

More snow was expected for the night, and I heard reports of another 3 inches, maybe more. No big whoop. People at work were leaving at like 3:30, and there was no snow on the ground. Whimpy, whimpy, whimpy. I looked outside around 4:00 and wee wittle sprinkles had begun. I decided to finish up on the project I had started, maybe go to the gym before heading home.

At 5:00 I walked outside to the parking lot. Whoa. There was already nearly an inch and it was snowing intently. I decided to skip the gym. Calmly, I started the car and began the trek homeward. It was still a bit slippy, and I turned onto my normal road to traverse the first one lane bridge. Shortly after this, all the cars in front of me stopped. I waited patiently, unsure of what the problem was. About five minutes later, we continued up the hill, but one car stayed off to the side for some reason. Curious, I thought.

Slowly, carefully, I continued on my way. The roads were terrible, but I did ok. I looked at the clock and thought it would take another hour to get home. Maybe more.

And then I passed a car stuck on a hill as it tried to maneuver in the opposite direction. Shortly after that, I stopped in a line of cars as far as I could see, for an unknown reason.

I continued to sit there, unable to move in either direction, for 45 minutes. There were now more like 5 inches of unplowed flakes on the ground, the car was covered and dark with snow (on one side), and I had moved about 50 feet only when those in front of me turned around.

Finally a fire department SUV arrived on the scene. And got stuck behind three cars that were stuck.

At this point, I decided to take my chances in the other direction. Like so many before me, I performed a three point turn in slippery conditions, and high tailed it out of there - carefully. Luckily, the cars stuck in the opposite direction had unstuck themselves and I was able to make it back out to the light and turn south. Slowly, I drove another half mile before I had to stop again. On a bridge. With cars as far as the eye could see in both directions. Here I sat for 20 minutes. And the snow continued to accumulate.

Finally, I began moving again on this road that was only sort of the right direction. There were cars stuck everywhere. I began to panic. What if I got stuck? What if I hit someone? What if someone hit me? My legs began to shake and I became short of breath as hour #2 of the trip came and went.

I had to pee so bad.

Finally, I encountered a plow! Hurray! A big push-the-snow-out-of-the-way thingie! But wait a minute. It was pushing snow into the way, right near a traffic light. The light turned red, so I stopped in front of the snow pile, assuming the guy would move it out of the way between light cycles. Three cars drove around me, in front of the plow, and through the red light. OK, A-holes aside, now lets get with the snow moving, I mentally thought at the snow plow dude. Even better, pull out in front of me and clear a path for me to follow. Unfortunately, mind channeling requires two minds. And the plow driver was apparently a few cards short of a deck. He pushed more snow into my path, which seriously increased my blood pressure.

The light turned green and plow was still in the way. And then he turned towards my path. Yippee! As long as I could charge over the snow mound, I could follow this beacon home! Mind channeling does work!

And then he backed up.

All right buddy, that's it. I guess the A-holes (though still A-holes) knew what they were doing. I pushed through the pile of snow and eased around the plow. The rest of the trip, though terrifying, was thankfully devoid (mostly) of other vehicles. I was panic stricken, and unable to determine if the tears were due to the intense fear or the overwhelming desire to find a potty or squat in the snow.

At this point, I had decided the goal to get home was a tad over-zealous. I revised my goal to get as close to home as possible, preferably within walking distance. I passed many cars and very stupid pedestrians walking in black clothing in the middle of unplowed lanes.

I encountered two more plows - one in the way again, and the other frustratingly with a landscaping logo on its side and its plow up. Put it down, man! I yelled.

At least I was able to follow his tracks.

I got home at 8:25, just a bit over three hours after leaving work. There was just enough time to make and eat some pasta before the power went out. For the next 22 hours.

Natural Beauty

2011-01-20T22:26:00.001-05:00

Last year, we moved to a semi rural area which requires me to drive through three woody parks and over four one-lane bridges daily. Driving around the neighborhood, one might assume that a four wheel drive pick up truck (complete with gun rack) would be standard issue on move in day, but, one would be wrong. Thus, I was a tad concerned about the potential performance of my Chevy Cavalier in the off chance we would encounter snow. Luckily, I thought to myself, we only get like six inches of snow a year.

Then, it snowed. And snowed. And snowed. At one point, I measured 47 inches in my front yard. At one time. After the first 8 inch mini-storm (as it turned out), a co-worker said, "How was the commute?"

"Beautiful," I said. And it was. Sure, there was snow on the ground (the Chevy did fine, by the way), but it was so so pretty to see the fresh snow on all the trees. In my mind, totally worth a bit of shoveling and a slower pace on the roads. Though I have to admit...the shoveling eventually became less enjoyable.

Flash forward to twenty eleven. We finally got a bit o snow round these parts, and I drove through the first part as the sun came up:

Seriously, how could anyone ignore this beautious display of nature? Well, I couldn't....but I did ignore the snow covered roads a bit. Shortly after stopping in the middle of the road to snap a few pics, I sort of dazedly drove along, still marveling at all the pretty trees...and suddenly made an unintentional u-turn as I attempted to navigate a gentle curve.

Cat vs Internet

2010-12-28T22:19:00.000-05:00

This post is brought to you by special guest blogger, Daisy The Cat.

I don't like so much the stayin' home alone thing. My Nicki and my Adam go away this time of year, and it seems no matter how entirely awesome I am, they are not tempted to stay home and play with me. So while they were gone, I got online - all cats and toddlers can do this now - and I looked to the Internet for guidance. This is totally weird, but I got distracted. My fellow cats had really funny facebook posts. If you think cats are not on facebook, by the way, you are sadly disconnected from reality. All cats and toddlers are on facebook. Infants are now issued a facebook profile along with a social security number.

Anyway, my bestest bud Stanley posted about his siblings, Dusty and Marbles, and then mean old Howard the dog called him a dumbo and I read up on my poor friend Sage's flea situation. (I think he is in remission, thank goodness!) I changed my facebook pic so more people would be aware of flea infestations. 'Cause I'm a Cat with Causes, ya know?

Anyway, while Nicki and Adam are cleaning and grocery shopping and doing other non-catcentric activities (I know, I do not understand it either) I thought I would take this opportunity to post this link for the benefit of all cats. WE WILL BE HEARD! Cat Power!

Stay tuned for my next post: Plumbing: What's Up With That??

What I Want For Christmas

2010-12-17T20:56:00.001-05:00

Last year, I was pleased as punch to get normal, white toilet seats from Home Depot. This year's wish may be a tad harder to obtain. What I want is the ability to stop time.

Allow me to explain: I LOVE this time of year. I love buying presents for all the people I care about, I love Christmas carols, and I love getting cards with cutesie pictures of all my friend's kids. (They are growing up SUPER fast by the way!)

But, unfortunately, this is not a good time for most engineers/architects. For some reason, every owner wants to get their building permit in before the end of the year, as though the world will end when the Times Square Ball drops. (In which case, their building ain't gettin' built anyway...) So, we designers have to work our butts off trying to make deadlines, and AFTER Christmas, we tend to sit for a month twiddling our thumbs. This leaves us little time to enjoy said buying of gifts, singing of carols, and writing of amusing yet presumptuous "summaries of our year".

As it is, I think these emails I sent today may give you a taste of my frenzied days of late:

Hey, it's me. I forgot I volunteered to make brownies for the party tomorrow night. Do you think you could make them? We don't have any sugar, and only one egg...so while you are out, you may want to pick up some toilet paper and dishsoap. Maybe stop for some beer. Oh, and while you are at it...just buy the brownies!!

I won't be able to make it to the party tomorrow - we have another one to go to. But we should hang out after the New Year - loved your Christmas card! I'll send you one when I get around to it - estimated time of arrival: February.

Hey, its me again. Probably working late...can you pack the car? Don't forget the air mattresses...

Sorry, I thought I would have time for lunch but got stuck in a meeting all freakin' morning. Maybe next week?

(To Architect on Construction Job): Here is the submittal you asked me to review yesterday. Sorry, I didn't get to it until this morning.

(a few seconds later): Oops, forgot the subject line on that last email and thought it might go to your junk mail. Please disregard if you already got this.

Sorry, (insert name of relative here) I haven't really had time to make a Christmas list - but I always like what you pick out! I still have ~~a few~~ all my Christmas shopping to do too!

If only I could pause time, squeeze in about 37 hours of work, plus maybe a few hours of shopping, THEN I could really sit back and enjoy Christmas.

Is that too much to ask??

Diet, Week 2

2010-12-11T16:00:00.001-05:00

So, ask me how the dieting thing is going.

C'mon. I DARE ya.

(Chorus of Constant Readers) HOW BAD IS IT??

It's bad. It's gosh darnitall freakin' annoying, is what it is.

I don't think I had super crazy expectations. I am not out to starve myself, just to be healthy. And to avoid purchase of size 13 pants. I just want my Wii Fit to tell me that I am "normal" instead of "overweight." Just ONCE.

So, I started up a spreadsheet and allotted myself meals for a week, with reduced caloric intake. I had a birthday dinner to attend, which included a gallon sized sangria. One cannot really plan for such things, but, well, I adjusted. I went to the gym for an extra class that week, and I walked a bit longer at lunch. I didn't get around to weighing myself until the end of the week, but when I did, I set a modest goal to lose 2 pounds in 2 weeks. Nothing nutty. Just keepin' on keepin' on. Right?

Wrong. This past week I have had one beer after work. One!

I had one serving of cookies when they put out a tin chock FULL of servings in the kitchen at work. One!

I ate my stupid egg white omelets with kale, and my (actually delicious) turkey chili daily.

I went to the gym three times, and I went on walks at lunch every day despite it being 18 degrees out side. Every. Freakin. Day!!

And, I gained 0.2 pounds.

My Wii Fit informed me (after pointing out that I am overweight) that if I continue with my current pace, it will be very difficult to achieve my goal.

Which is now to lose 2.2 pounds in one week.

Un-freaking believable.

The Three Hour Diet

2010-12-07T22:20:00.001-05:00

After deliberation, denial, debate, and ultimate acceptance, I have come to admit that I am ready to diet once again. I actually decided this a few days after Thanksgiving (of course AFTER, I am not totally nuts), and I started to blog about it before. But dieting is just not fun, and not funny, and my blogs were super booorring. I have spared you, my (hopefully) Constant Reader, a blog about setting up a spreadsheet, another one about the joys of egg white omelets (painfully short), and a rather long-winded complaint about how beer and brownies are so very hard to plan into a spreadsheet unless one has unlimited energies to run on treadmills. Which, by the way, are also boring.

But man, I gotta suck it up and try to "Grin and Baer It". Dieting IS fun, and funny...if you put your mind to it. A few chocolatinis probably wouldn't hurt either. So, here's hoping my Constant Readers are drunker than I am:

Diet Attempt #1 (approximately three hours before defeat was admitted): the 28-Day Detox Diet.

I came across this little gem while I was cleaning. I searched for room on my crowded bookshelf, and found a little book called "The 28 Day Plan". It's one of those mini-books that are strategically arranged along the bookstore line (or queue as this very British book would call it). Alas, I am a sucker for the crap they set out out there.

The book has a picture of a skinny chick doing a handstand on the beach, so naturally, I bonded with her as this is so like me. Inside, there are four plans lasting 28-days each, all of which are intended to help a person feel and look better. I started with Plan #1, the Detox Diet.

It consists of a list of foods that can be eaten: fruits, vegetables, seeds, fish, and "non-dairy products" which includes a bunch of soy/almond milks and yogurts. Foods to avoid? Everything else. And oranges for some reason.

It then lists drinks that can be consumed: water, juice. Since this does not take up enough space on the page, they elaborate with drink recipes. For instance, there is "apple juice": Place apple in juicer, drink juice. And there is "grapefruit juice": Peel grapefruit, place in juicer, drink juice. "Carrot juice": Put carrots in juicer, drink juice. Last, there is "Peach juice": Peaches, juicer, drink. At no point is it suggested that the juices be mixed, or say, purchased at a store. Drinks to avoid? Alcohol, coffee, "fizzy drinks" and anything which is not juice or water.

I looked at the mug of coffee I had poured to sip while I read about my New Diet.

I took another sip.

Next section - planning. It was in this section that I really began to enjoy the "Britishiness" of the writing style. So upbeat, yet telling me in a round about way that this diet is going to be arduous and awful. Like the tips on how to succeed on the Program: 1. Adopt a positive attitude from the beginning, 2. Stay focused and remember why you are doing this, 3. Regard each day as a new challenge.

In the planning section, I was told that I would be in luck if I hate cooking, because most of my food should be eaten raw. Yippie!

Next section: exercise and relaxation. This is where I am told that exercise is good for me and should be fun, and then it lists "housework" as an exercise. "Its official", it claims, "A vigorous burst of housework can be as good for you as a trip to the gym." Well great! No volleyball for me tonight guys! I'm gonna scrub the toilet! Woo-hoo!

I took another sip of coffee.

Another exercise listed is "Bouncing". They suggest jumping on a mini-trampoline in my living room, where I can "bounce in time to the rhythm" of my favorite music. A picture of a well-endowed woman bouncing on her knees with arms extended accompanies this one.

Finally, it gets to the "relaxation". Here, it is suggested that I exfoliate my dry skin every day with a skin brush, and that I take some time daily to soak in an epsom salt bath. Also, if it has been a long time since I had a "jolly good laugh" I should "hire a comedy video" and enjoy a few chuckles.

So, that's about it. Eat nothing good, drink nothing exciting, and practice deep breathing regularly. The following pages are suggestions on how to implement this simple plan. It begins with some suggested recipes, including, of course, juice (mixed together!) and porridge. Porridge? Did I miss a "grains" section in the "Foods I am Allowed To Eat" section? I flipped back to discover that "eat only foods from this list" apparently means, "eat mostly foods from this list." Suddenly, the diet had potential.

My enthusiasm waned slightly when I got to the dessert recipes and found that "Strawberry Delight" is soy milk yogurt with strawberries on top. Joy. Turns out I had already eaten "Banana Bliss" before I poured my coffee.

I considered a second cup.

Last, a "typical day on the detox diet" is laid out. As you will see, even a working woman or a busy mother at home will seamlessly incorporate the plan into her daily life.

7:00am - Drink hot water with lemon or lime juice and then invigorate skin with a dry skin brush followed by a shower.

8:00am - Breakfast of muesli (again with the grains) over soy yogurt.

9:00am - Give yourself a facial.

11:00am - Time for relaxation and breathing. You know, since you have been working so hard all morning.

1:00pm - Lunch, eaten slowly, which will give it more time to digest.

2:00pm - Relax for a while. After all, you have earned it. Read a book or watch TV. Then, go for a brisk walk.

4:00pm - Time for pampering before you prepare your evening meal. Give yourself a massage and drink some herbal tea (not on the allowed drink list, which is becoming more and more flexible and will soon include Jack and Coke.)

6:00pm - Evening meal of steamed vegetables. Mmmm...

7:00pm - Visualization. Sit in a quiet room and think positive thoughts.

8:00pm - Pleasant aromatherapy bath.

That's it! Sounds pretty good in the end part there, does it not? Oh, and the next 28 days? Should be spent in almost exactly the same way. So, just have Jeeves take care of the cleaning, and send the children to Mumsie's for the next few months. You may want to get your workplace to hire an intern - one that can perform massages a plus - to take care of your next few projects, as you will be in the bathtub.

I actually did make it through the first few hours - I had a nice skin brush and shower, and I drank most of a cup of hot lemon juice. The skin brush was totally awesome and I have been doing it every day since. This is the first winter I haven't rubbed myself raw with itchiness. Unfortunately, I had to go grocery shopping, get the car oil changed, rake up about a bazillion leaves from the yard, and paint a shed ramp that day. And Jeeves was off.

De-toxifying

2010-11-24T19:00:00.002-05:00

Glog, I've been forced to ground myself for a few days, resolving to never drink again again. This past Saturday, Indiana hosted Penn State football in Washington, DC. (It's some ploy by NFL stadiums to convince universities that they will increase enrollment by traveling around the country.)

Naturally, since my house is only 1.5 hours' drive from DC, the family roosted at my little nest before heading down to Fed Ex Field. And, naturally, we had a few cold ones. My diet for the day (to the best of my recollection):

one cupcake topped with cute little caramel turkeys with pretzel legs, stuffed with more cake crumbs, and sitting on a bed of green cornflakes that looked like lettuce. Very cute, and very caramel-y.
four to five cookies of various flavors and sizes
one piece of pumpkin spice flavored sticky bun
one moderately sized brownie
one mystery dessert which I will deem a "maple bar"
a few bites of crab dip on crackers
a test bite of taco-flavored ground beef which looked like it was something made of brown sugar
one slice of spice cake with orange glaze

I think that about sums it up. All of this was consumed before 11am, and, you will note, was carefully orchestrated to eliminate nearly all nutritional value from the system. The family fried a turkey, and made all the trimmings including mashed potatoes, corn, and green bean casserole - but I was a stuffed bird.

Top my buffet with several shots of Canadian whiskey and several more cans of domestic swill known to vast majorities of the population as beer, and you get a small glimpse of my state of mind later in the evening. (And if you did happen to glimpse my state of mind? Please let me know how awful it was. Because I can only assume - very.)

After a brief time ~~passed out~~ napping in the car, I was returned to my sofa, where I took in about six hours of shut eye. And then, for some reason, I didn't feel very well and ended up thinking about how I could have cleaned the toilet last Thursday instead of watching TV.

I hate when I have to ground myself before holidays. My goal for Thanksgiving is to remember to eat a vitamin or two, and to keep the correct end pointed at the porcelain. Wish me luck!

Nothing to Fear But Fear Itself...and Geese.

2010-11-17T20:29:00.000-05:00

Click here. I promise, it is funny.

Every day, I take a walk around a man-made pond near the office, and every day, I must deal with a couple of geese. I have a healthy fear of geese. They can be pretty mean, you know. When I was a kid, I had a friend whose parents raised geese and it was her job to feed them. She was terrified of those suckers. So, perhaps, this is where my personal fear began. Or perhaps I am repressing a horrible Incident. Maybe my fingers are actually grafted on, because my original appendages were bitten off by irate geese.

For whatever reason, I HATE walking past these two geese. Usually I have a friend who makes me feel ever so slightly safer, allowing me to scamper past them with my head held high. But the other day, I had to walk between the geese because they were situated on opposite sides of the path. I considered not taking a second turn around the pond, or walking a different, non-goose infested route. But honestly, these two particular geese have paid even less attention to the humans near their pond than George Bush paid to the Constitution (zing!). I thought about how SILLY and IRRATIONAL it would be to change my plans because of some freakin' geese!

So, boldly, I continued to walk along the path. My hands began to sweat, and my heart began to race. I clenched my fists and thought about how I would fight if, per chance, I were attacked. I tried to calm my brain, because animals can smell fear. I tried to take deep breaths and act large and in charge. One goose crossed the path to join its mate as I neared. It was slow and deliberate.

I squelched what appeared to be possibly tears. It was definitely some sort of leakage. I tried to laugh at myself, about how SILLY and IRRATIONAL this was. I walked past the geese, giving all the appearance of calm, cool, collected, and most definitely, not, freaking, out.

And nothing happened. I walked past the geese, and they held up their end of the bargain by pretending I wasn't there.

I would love to tell you that next time it will be different, that I will march along and not even notice the water fowl. But that would be a lie. I am just wondering - don't these guys know they should be flying south by now??

No Soup for You!

2010-11-10T21:03:00.000-05:00

I was just sittin' here killin' time because "my stories*" aren't on yet. I decided to check on the ole' facebook page, mostly out of boredom, when one of those targeted ads off to the side got me.

I hate those ads, and I hate them even more when I am tempted to click on them. I know they use "cookies" and my internet history and keywords to determine what I might like. What I find frightening is how danged accurate they are. I often get ads for Phish related paraphernalia (tickets and CD's of course - what are YOU thinkin?), cooking related gizmos, and books by Stephen King. I also get a lot of things about sustainable buildings and structural engineering books and I'm all "Ha, ha. I have no interest in that when I am in my PJ's and not at work!! You don't know me, Man!" And then I start getting Weight Watchers ads as if even my computer needs to remind me that I could stand to lose a few pounds. It probably heard me talking about the (shh!) Netbook I plan to buy.

Today's ad was from Victoria's Secret, implying that by a simple click of my mouse I would be re-directed to a site where I could buy (drum roll...) Penn State underwear! This combines my love of unmentionables with my joy of buying overpriced crap that happens to have a Penn State logo on it! How could I resist?

Well, I was sorely disappointed. Not only does clicking on the "exclusive Pink collegiate collection" website take one to a general ad listing all universities, the model in the ad is wearing Michigan clothing. Also, when one does get to the Penn State page, one finds that A) the stuff is not Pink and B) it is not underwear. In fact, one finds the exact same stuff to be found at any Penn Sate clothing store on campus, and it costs an arm and a leg (just like at any Penn State clothing store on campus).

That's OK. It is perhaps for the best that I do not have underwear that says "WE ARE" across the back...

* Umm...yeah. That would be "Criminal Minds", the crime show...

Thanks a Lot, Mr. Fanklin

2010-11-09T23:06:00.000-05:00

It's that time of year when time starts messing with my mind. It always takes me about a week to get used to "falling back" and even longer to adjust to "springing forward". Last spring, I missed the memo on the topic and showed up an hour late for yoga. I was so PISSED! So this time around, I made it a point to remember to change the dang clocks. Unfortunately, I never just change them all at once. I usually get the oven clock first, which is near the door and most often used for (ahem) timely departures. When in the car, I get that one. At some point, I might get the microwave, but then I tend to get mixed up. Did I change the bedroom one? Or not? I might end up with as many as three hours difference in the times noted on various clocks, and then I have to consult the cell phone, because it knows all.

My mom doesn't know how to change her car clock so she just leaves it. It is correct for half the year, but I can't remember which half. I know I "fixed" it for her once and she was unaware of my nicety, so she did her usual compensating only to be two hours late for dinner.

My cat, who is oblivious to time change, does know what time it is in the morning. She has "Time to Stomp on Nicki's Kindeys So As She Will Get Up and Feed Me" time, she has "Time to Sit on Nicki's Lap While She is Trying to Eat So As She Might Give Me Some Food Time", and she has "Time to Avoid Nicki So As She Will Not Give Me a Pill Time." So, kidney-stomping time commenced as usual on Monday, but it was ineffective because Nicki was sleeping for an extra hour. Or rather, she was trying to sleep an extra hour, but that is difficult to accomplish once kidneys have been stomped upon.

Throughout all this confusion, I wondered: Who thought up this crazy idea, and just how much crack was he/she smoking? Sure, light in the evening, saving energy, blah, blah, blah. But what about the fact that we willingly subject our bodies to a sudden and dramatic shift in its sleep patterns and eating times? Regular sleep is the one thing that doctors agree could cure all ailments and save the whales. Or something. Anyway, its important.

Turns out, it was Benjamin Franklin who thought up daylight saving time - as a JOKE. Seriously. He wrote a letter about how people in Paris weren't getting up before noon and the sun was rising at 6am or earlier and they were missing at least 6 hours of daylight, so he figured Parisians should be banned from using blinds and they should make it 7am for the sun so they'd miss less daylight. He also suggested loud church bells or, and I am not making this up - cannons be used to rouse people out of bed. He argued that if people got up before noon they might go to sleep earlier and burn fewer candles thus saving a lot of money.

So, thanks a lot Mr. Franklin. Thanks to your little joke, it is common practice to wake before noon, and the government is rationing my candles.

Life Begins at 90

2010-11-05T21:19:00.000-04:00

I have to admit I stole this title and picture from my brother's facebook page:

Yep, this is my grandmother, who turns 90 years young today.

And yep, that's a bottle of Crown Royal. But the cigarette is a fake.

She is on her way to the party we threw for her a few weeks ago, since her actual birthday weekend happened to be a Penn State home game. We had a 1920's theme, since she was born in 1920. It was a lot of fun, but the best part was seeing a 90 year old light up with a smile that would rival any 3 year old at their birthday party. She invited everyone, and I mean everyone, she knew. Her hairstylists, her mailman, her cleaning lady, a person she hadn't seen since she was 12, some random guy at the supermarket - all invited.

All I can say is, her 100th birthday party?

might need government subsidizing.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUBBIE! I can't wait for the next!

Maybe Sometimes Excuses Are OK

2010-11-04T22:03:00.001-04:00

Operation "Get Back to Gym" aka "Mova da Butta" is well into its second week. I read the beginning of an article this morning about how one should stop making excuses for skipping the gym. Things like "I forgot my sports bra", it says, should not be acceptable since there are plenty of things one can do (such as lifting weights) that do not necessitate the binding constraints of a sports bra.

Meanwhile I am thinking, "Sports bra? 90 percent of the time, I forget my whole gym bag." In fact, I keep a spare set of (ugly) clothes at the office, complete with old sneakers. (The ugliness is an attempt to make me learn my lesson and remember my s**t the next time. It doesn't work. If I cared what people thought about my appearance I would probably not be taking dance related classes at all.)

Today, I forgot my hair tie. Normally, of course, I avoid this issue because I keep a stash of about 20 hair ties in my bag, thus allowing me the chance to disremember putting it back in the bag now and again. Unfortunately, I haven't figured out how to put an infinite supply in there. So I ran out.*

Plan B (technically Plan C if you count "remember-to-put-hair-tie-into-bag-you-dumbass" as Plan A) is my typical MacGuyver move. I get my hair into a braid, then slip my ring over the end, and slide it up as tightly as possible. I have thin hair so this usually holds pretty well.

Not today. I don't know if my hair got thicker or my ring got smaller. Had to have been the hair. Maybe it's the hard water at the house. (Please ensure Adam that my ring size remains a 5.)

Anyway, I was really struggling. I thought I could just work out with my hair loose, and then I swallowed a hair and it got caught in my throat. I'm in the middle of this class, trying to pry a hair out of my throat by alternately gagging myself and horking up hockers. (Does anyone know the proper spelling of "horking"? Spell check can't find it....)

Needless to say, it was very gross. Not to mention distracting. I wasn't getting many of the step aerobics moves in between gags.

Finally, finally, I came up with this, which is actually still in place now:

Ok, it's a little blurry (you try taking a picture of your own head), but it is the ring and a small hook that came on my water bottle, gathering up about three quarters of my hair. I got this in place about halfway through the class.

And you wonder why I haven't been to the gym?

*Also I was 10 minutes late, because another common reason for skipping the gym is that I get caught up in whatever I am doing at work and suddenly it is too late to get there in time for a class. (Yes, they have treadmills. Evil, boring treadmills. Yuck.)

Lefty Loosey

2010-11-02T21:46:00.000-04:00

Where Haven't I Been?
I haven't been a lot of places, like Tahiti or Hawaii, or Kansas. And lately, I haven't been to the gym.

I am trying - no! going! - to change that, and it all started last week. Again.

Ahem.

It is very very easy to divert myself from this goal, and I LIKE going to the gym. For instance, tonight, I wanted to vote. This requires that I drive near my home, and then drive away from my home to the gym. It also requires that I attend a much dreaded class called Body Jam due to the change in schedule. Even with careful pre-planning and mental pep talks about how Body Jam is not totally terrible and I might be able to keep up, I still found myself sitting in the car after voting, at a traffic light without a turn signal. (For you Marylanders out there - this signifies that a car intends to go straight through the light.) "Hey, Slacker!!" my brain yelled, "the gym's THAT way!" My left hand flicked on the turn signal just in time. (Once again Folks - the blinking light on the left? Means I'm turning left. Crazy, I know.)

So there I stood in Body Jam. This is a class that uses dance moves to trick participants into exercising. Personally, I think its stupid because you are already at a gym so you'd think it was obvious that your motive is to exercise. Also, it is too hard. But mostly stupid.

Putting the negativity away, I resolved to really try this time.

The class was going pretty much as it always does to about halfway through. The instructor was yelling out "Now, flick! And twirl! And step, step, glide!" And I was having trouble flicking on the correct foot, leaving me to miss the twirl, causing my neighbors to gracefully crash into my non-moving patoot while I hurried to the final "glide" position. This would all be fine except (for me) that when I spend most of my time avoiding being stepped on and looking confusedly at my flawless classmates, I don't break much of a sweat. Granted, I'm not exactly sitting on the sofa eating leftover Halloween candy (mmmm...Butterfingers....)* but I'm still not getting the workout I hoped for.

So right about then, I had an epiphany of sorts. Use the left brain. It's the left brain that's creative and artsy and natural. It's the right brain that's practical and learned and uses correct grammar. I thought maybe, if I could concentrate less on the actual steps and more on the movement, I might be on to something.

You see, my job makes me use the right brain waaay more often than the left, and poor Lefty is a little neglected.

But then I remembered a scene from wedding I attended this past summer:
HIM: Why are you wearing those shoes if they hurt when you walk?
ME: (flicking foot in the light) Dude! Look how glittery they are!

So, Lefty's still in there. She just has to hunker down and hide as I navigate my way though the male dominated office space on a daily basis. Today in Body Jam, I let 'er loose.

And it actually worked. I realized I didn't have to look at the instructor's feet or arm movements as much. I listened for the verbal cues and heard the music. Suddenly, the class was becoming fun and I didn't even have to watch the girl in front who never missed a step.

and then THUD!

The girl was writhing on the floor because her knee popped out of socket (or something - I actually tried not to listen too much as this kind of talk tends to make me feel like I will pass out). Point is that the class stopped because the girl was injured and she said this awful thing with her knee happens all the time and it was suddenly all better and then she walked out. She didn't even limp.

I feared all this knee popping talk might cause me to lose my zen, but it didn't. When class resumed I was back on track, not necessarily getting every step right but at least not crashing into people. And I was actually having fun and breaking a sweat. It was great!

I think I will stop avoiding this class so much. It might be good for me to step out of the comfort zone and let 'Ole Lefty out for a spin now and again.

*and I forgot how yummy Twix are!!

Crisis Averted

2010-10-31T13:45:00.000-04:00

I have just returned from the grocery store, a place where I went without my wallet. "Is not a wallet a very important thing to take to the grocery store?" you ask?

"Why yes," I reply.

I was very disappointed with myself, but I came up with a solution used more often than it should be - my emergency cash. I have kept $10 in the car ever since driving to Ohio on Route 80, where unbeknown to me, it becomes a toll road. I was without cash, the ATM at a rest stop was out of money, and I had to request a bill for $3.50 sent to my home from the Ohio Department of Transportation.

The emergency cash has been a great solution for similar events, but lately has been used to purchase more Chinese food at non credit card taking shops than I care to admit.

Today, I hoped to buy as a minimum a pound of ground beef and two cans of tomato sauce for a casserole, and if possible, some chicken or beef to toss into my fajita making kit for later in the week. And maybe some peanut butter. Luckily, I was able to get the meat, the sauce, and a can of refried beans - but only if I used the "club card price".

I have a club card.

In my wallet.

And I usually use all fake-ish information on the application, a trick I learned in college when I wished to own the free tee-shirt offered for filling out a credit application, but not the gas card.*

So the point is, that I know the information I put on the application for my card at the grocery store was valid and rememberable - like I probably used my work number. (Ironically, even if the information was true at the time, I have had like five phone numbers in the last eight years as I have moved from place to place. And updating my information on a card that is really only used by The Man to determine how often I buy Colgate brand toothpaste is not high on my priority list each time I move.)

The cashier - who was wearing curlers and looked as though she hadn't showered - asked for my card, and I explained that I did not have it as I entered my work number on the thing and handed her the $10. "It's $14.02," she said. "Do you have your card?"

"I told you, I do not have it, but I entered the number on the keypad," I said. She asked for the number again and re-entered it.

"It's not working," she said. "$14.02 please."

"Look, I need to use the card," I said. "Can you just use the store card?"

"You can fill out an application if you don't have a card," she said.

Ok, breathe. "I have a card," I said, "I just. don't. have it. with me." I tried to be patient. I was beginning to get annoyed, because I could see the freakin' store card right there on the register, and this woman who doesn't care enough about her job to take a gosh darn shower before work won't give me a stupid discount that is actually the true price of the items I wish to purchase.

I was about to get angry when she explained that by giving her fake information on a form I could get items for the price listed on them, when two guys behind me said I could use their cards.

Crisis averted.

The cashier handed me the change for my $10, and said, "You saved $4.52 on your purchase today, Ms. ah, Marks."

Yeah. Great.

It was on the way home that I realized she was probably dressed in her pajamas for Halloween.

*They are on to this trick, so you have to use information you will remember in case they quiz you. For instance, I lost out on a South Park Frisbee when I was not able to repeat the phone number I had just written on my application. I have since refined my technique and received many free items, but not one of those cards is on my credit report.

Where Have I Been?

2010-10-29T21:10:00.000-04:00

I have been...

...making excuses. My most common excuse of late: I-Can't-Blog-Because-I-Have-To-Go-Into-Another-Room a.k.a. I-Need-A-Netbook. It would be totally cool to multitask - I could watch LOST and blog about it at the same time. I could blog at lunch time. I could blog in the shower. (They're waterproof, right?)

I could blog in a plane
I could blog on a train
I could blog while driving
I could blog while scuba diving

The thing is, this Netbook has become my excuse for a lot of things. If I had a Netbook, I could track my calories and restart my dieting. If I had a netbook, I'd be able to skype with my sister and eat dinner at the same time. If I had a Netbook, I would solve all the world's problems, run for office, and effectively manage my time before breakfast. And my facebook statuses would be off the hook y'all.

But alas. Apparently I am not meant to own a Netbook because I have discovered that they go on sale often, but only people who pay attention to things like sales, and the times of sales, are eligible to purchase sale items. This makes perfect sense, I suppose, but I wish I could just go into a store and buy the item that just two hours prior was priced fifty bucks cheaper. I wish I could pay with money, in the store, the price that the item costs, instead of having to follow up with a letter including my receipt and a UPC symbol in order to receive a check for the amount I overpaid, which then has to be taken to my bank and re-deposited. I wish I could buy a Netbook without a sticker on it and within 50 miles of my home.

Allow me to explain. Attempt #1 to Buy a Netbook was at a newly opened HH Gregg Store that is approximately 4.5 miles from the house where I live. I did not get around to buying the Netbook until later in the day, and when I arrived at the conveniently located store, I was told they were sold out. The guy said he would take my money and my name and add me to a list of potential Netbook Owners maintained within the store, and IF a Netbook came to the store, I would be called so I could go and pick it up. And if a Netbook did not come to the store I would be refunded my money. If you are thinking this is a retarded plan, you would be correct. I just want to buy a freakin electronic device, not adopt a puppy. So I asked the guy if I could just buy it online for the sale price. He looked at me in wonder and said he hadn't thought of that, but sure, it could work.

So, crazy kid that I am, I went online for Attempt #2 and found the Netbook and added it to my cart and entered my name, address, favorite ice cream flavor, and pet's name (I am not making this up) before I was given the option to ship or pick up in the store. I decided to pick up and avoid shipping charges, and entered my zip code so it would find the nearest store for me. The nearest store was Wilmington, DE, a decidedly inconvenient 60 miles or so away. It turns out the 30 or so stores between here and Delaware* are all sold out. And shipping fees were so much that it would negate the sale price altogether.

No Netbook for me.

Attempt #3 began a few weeks later when Adam told me he saw Netbooks for the reduced HH Gregg price at Target of all places. I should have known because Target has all I could ever want or desire, but I hadn't thought of that. So, to Target I went. There, I found a silly display of a cardboard Netbook with a price tag marked "clearance" that said $211 !! Giddy up! I went the the counter to tell the worker to get me a Netbook from the back and she said all they had was the display. Display? It was just a fake Netbook made of cardboard, right?

Umm..No.

It was an actual Netbook with a sticker on the screen, intended to show a person what the real screen (located just under the sticker) would look like. "Is that a sticker?" I asked, "Or just one of those removable plastic peel off deals?"

"Oh, it's a sticker," she replied, and then demonstrated how the sticker would not come off completely, and the screen would need replacing. "It came to the store this way," she explained.

"So...it's $211 and the screen will need replacing," I said.

"Yep," she agreed, "and there are holes in the keyboard from where they screwed this plastic cover plate over the top so you can't press the buttons on the display."

I couldn't decide if the Netbook adoption list was dumber or not.

I plan to get the Netbook on, gulp, Black Friday. And by golley, it better be under $200 and sticker free.

*Every time I tell this story, I am told that I could have had so-and-so's brother's uncle's roommate pick it up and they could transport it here when they're in town for the next gun convention or antique car show. I appreciate the sentiment, but I still maintain that picking up in Delaware is inconvenient.

Where Have I Been?

2010-10-27T17:14:00.002-04:00

I have been...

...shopping for jeans. Ugh. It is painfully apparent that my generation is no longer "in". Thus, we are not the target audience for today's fashions. My generation has lived through the eighties. We wore blue eye shadow, and tied our faux pearl necklaces into knots. We folded up the cuffs of our acid wash jeans the "cool way". We had Swatch watches and big hair, and we donned more than one pair of pastel colored socks all bunched up.

We learned our lesson.

In my quest for jeans I have gone to store after store, not realizing that the fashion gods have once again decided that "skinny jeans" are a sensible trend for a country overtaken by obesity. Perhaps it is an indirect ploy to get America dieting again, but trust me: the interim is not going to be pretty. It will consist of millions of fat people in stretchy pants.

I am strongly in favor of a simple system wherein we downplay the awfulness of our most prominent body parts by drawing attention to parts that aren't so bad. I long for the days when jeans were larger at the shins, thus making the thighs look thin by comparison.

But the days of sensible fashion are apparently in our past. I figure I can go with the flow, but I maintain my stubborn refusal to buy anything larger than a size 12. I have been to more stores than I want to admit, taking my 12's from the rack - no use even pretending a 10 might fit past mid calf. Calmly, I have exhaled all oxygen from my body and attempted to tuck sections of butt flab back below the pantline before beginning the sit test.

For you men out there (how I envy you!): the sit test is why those benches are placed in dressing rooms. Oh, since you don't need to try things on (you suck!), trust me - there are benches in dressing rooms. A lady who has decided that her potential purchase is, in fact, zipable without causing excessive* numbness in her lower extremities, will then need to test her range of mobility. Thus, she will attempt to bend her knees and sit on the bench without ripping the potential purchase. Assuming this is successful, she will carefully examine herself in the mirror checking for malfunctions.

A common malfunction in my case is the butt crack, hangin' out for the world to see. Another one is the shins, revealed when the pantleg creeps inexplicably above the knee. Somehow, jeans that were the correct length in the standing position are approximately four inches shorter on each end when sitting. A girl has to look very carefully for these and any number of malfunctions, flaws, and deformities.

After a long and arduous search, I am proud to say that I have purchased a pair of jeans.

I tore off the price tags and modeled them proudly for Adam. "What do you think?" I asked.

"They look a little tight," he said.

This is why a girl should never ask what her man thinks.

* minor numbness is unavoidable

My Earliest Memory

2010-10-25T17:50:00.000-04:00

I was two years old when mom and dad left me. I don't actually remember when they left, but then they came back. And they brought this:

Yikes. I remember they came in through the garage - where they used to park the car - and my first baby sister, Tiffany, was carried in a blue, white, and yellow blanket crocheted by my grandmother. She wasn't much fun at first, then she was cool. For a while there, she was SO uncool and we fought ALL the time. Then, she became cool again. And now, she's not only my sister, she's my best friend.

Today, that memory is 30 years old. (Yikes again.)

Here's to many years of looking at something slightly away from the camera:

...To our years of terrible dancing (These are participation awards)....

...To the 80's (eek!)...

...And to Birthdays!!

Happy Birthday Tiff! My only sister, until...

history repeated itself!

Where Have I Been?

2010-10-24T20:39:00.001-04:00

I have been...
...watching LOST.

I never watched it when it was on TV. I always heard you needed to know the whole story, and I hadn't been aware of the show until it was three years in. We aren't much for TV 'round these parts, which sometimes makes it surprisingly hard to relate to people. I guess most folks assume it's something we all have in common, but 90% of the time, when a conversation starts, "Ohmygod, did you see (insert name of hot TV show here) last night?" I say, "Ummm...never heard of it."

And I never saw "Katrate Kid" either. Deal, ok?

Okay.

Sorry, I got a little emotional there. I do sometimes feel like I am disconnected with the world because I don't watch television every night. And yet, I feel like I watch a lot of TV.

Anyway...so lately we started watching LOST. It was on our Netflix options through the Wii, and we were pretty much immediately hooked. We watched season one in about 15 days, and we're on to season two.

All I can say is, now I know.

And I really hope Shannon doesn't die...

Where Have I Been?

2010-10-21T21:00:00.000-04:00

I have been...
...building a shed. FOREVER. Ok, ok. Only for the last three weekends.

We looked at the cute little wooden sheds, complete with flower boxes and real working windows and opted for a do-it-yourselfer vinyl kit. Why? You ask?

Personally, I would have opted for the Amish model - super cute, complete with flower boxes, and, most importantly - built by Amish. I would even have opted for the Lowes model, which is only slightly less superior because the Amish do not, as a general rule, work at Lowes.

This because I have come to grips with the fact that I work 40 hours a week, and do not have time, tools, or patience to build my own shed.

My better half, however, has not come to terms with this. He is in denial, and perhaps does not see the piles of building materials in the basement, purchased nearly a year ago, for a project we have only barely started. Perhaps he does not remember how it took me 14 hours to put up curtains, or how it took him an undetermined amount of time* to install an electrical outlet.

But, I did not wish to argue, and so we compromised. We bought the kit. Day one was spent buying the materials. Yes, it took five hours to go to the store, buy some large heavy stuff, drive the rented truck to the house, unload the large heavy stuff, and return the truck.

Day two left us with a false feeling of fulfillment and accomplishment. We built the floor base, except for a few joists and the plywood topping. We were keeping the weight down as much as possible, since we would have to carry it down to the yard.

It took nine more days before we managed to have time for the shed, and about 13 hours to get the stupid platform level and mounted on its foundation. We tried a few methods - tying strings to corner posts, and pouring water down a hose. Adam especially liked this one - the water would have to be at the same elevation at each end. We worked at it diligently for about an hour, with the end result - mud. Oh, and we decided the string was not to be trusted. In the end, we cut one post, then used the 24' ladder and a level to figure out the length of the other posts.

It was another seven days before we got the plywood on, and we embarked on kit instruction #1 - getting the track in place and square.

I was excited to finally have gotten to "step two" of the kit instructions - begin assembling the walls. The walls are vinyl plastic sheets about two feet wide, which slide together to create the full width. The picture in the book shows two happy people - one on a ladder, and one holding up a wall panel. The second panel is lifted above the first, guided into interlocking slats, and it slides effortlessly down to the ground.

In much the same manner, we attempted this. It slid a bit before it got stuck, and Adam had to bang the top with a rubber mallet. Each hit moved the panel about 1/4 of an inch, so after 250 or so hits, the panel was down and only slightly damaged from the banging. Breathlessly, he mentioned that this method is very tiring. So we got a few beers, and pondered.

We introduced soapy water, oil, and brute force into the equation.

And, three hours later, we had all the panels put together.

Someday, I hope to add a roof.

* (not finished yet...)

Summertime Bounty

2010-08-01T16:40:00.001-04:00

I can't believe it's August already. The summer is flying by and I thought I still had all this time till my sis left town - gone. My sister, a teacher, took a new job in North Carolina and is officially moved in. Seven hours away. We haven't lived apart from one another since 2000, the lonely year I spent living solo in Baltimore before she graduated from Penn State and joined me. She talked about living near the beach since she was like eight years old, so I'm glad she's following her dreams....but I will miss her.

****
OK, I was about to get overly mushy there, so let's just move on. Let' talk vegetables. I am glad I joined the CSA instead of attempting to grow all this stuff from scratch. First off, my garden books state that plants feel stress, which causes them to be unhealthy and sickly. My particular plants were overturned in a traumatic Wheelbarrow Incident, then placed in rocky, uncultivated soil, and subjected to record high temperatures for weeks on end with little (ok no) watering. One of the pepper plants was almost immediately removed from the garden by a rodent of unusual size - possibly a groundhog whom I have named Barry. He lurks about the yard daily. Barry (or possibly some other member of my little wildlife community) dug a hole right in the garden, then dug his secondary escape on the other side. We are at war with one another - I fill in his holes and he digs new ones. Always in another spot though, so I am hoping he will figure out the boundaries here, even if it means he will eventually touch upon every inch of my little plot. The tomato plants (that survived the Incident) are not faring much better because their leaves are routinely served at some scrumptious animal dinner party. I suspect the deer - there are hoof-prints in the soil - but everyone else seems to suspect Barry. Either way, my plants could be a tad stressed. They actually don't look that bad, but they aren't producing any vegetables either.

Luckily, Sarah and Tom, who run the Flying Plow Farm, are better at taming the Barrys of the world than I. I am no longer getting weirdo greens, though I expect them to return when the weather cools again. I'm not so scared of them anymore - I realized they can be added to pretty much any recipe, including oatmeal. This I learned vicariously from Cameron Diaz - she told Oprah (or Ellen), and my sister told me. Honestly, kale in oatmeal with a few walnuts on top makes a nutritious, yummy breakfast. And makes you look like Cameron Diaz, apparently.*

I am incredibly proud (almost smug) because I have not wasted a single vegetable (that I liked**) from the CSA. And we get a LOT of vegetables. This has changed my cooking routine - like I decided to make a Mediterranean Tuna Salad that called for celery. Celery has not, thus far, been included in my CSA and I thought, I wish it called for cucumber as I have about 3 or 4 in the drawer. Then I thought, cucumbers instead of celery. So I substitute whatever I have, don't buy what I don't have, and things usually turn out ok. For instance, yellow squash can be used in place of zucchini - even in zucchini bread.

It is still a lot of work though. I have frozen about three pounds of green beans, and the beans are "you pick" so I actually pick them, clean them, boil them, cool them, and THEN freeze them. But they will taste oh so good in January. I have to set aside "CSA days" occasionally, because prep is the key to using the food. If I open the fridge and see "uncleaned carrots" vs "string cheese", the cheese always wins. "Cleaned carrots" have a better chance of being eaten (with some string cheese).

Yesterday, I spent about three or maybe even four hours prepping - I made the Mediterranean Tuna Salad, plus Veggie Bean Burrito mix for my lunches. I cut up two cantaloupes (I actually froze some of the pieces because I'm the only household member who eats melons - we'll see how that turns out. I am thinking smoothies). I pulled edamame off their stalks, crushed up some dried basil and froze some more pesto, I made a Tomato Relish for tonight's dinner, and baked a zucchini cake. I still have lots of zucchini and squash to freeze, more beans to clean, and a watermelon to cut - I gave away the other watermelon. I just don't want anything to go to waste and four melons is a bit much even for me.

I finally bought some canning supplies, because I have about 10 pounds of tomatoes ripening in the sun. I had hoped to get to that today, but I thought they would ripen faster. I guess I will try to squeeze "making tomato sauce" into this week's schedule.

If you're interested, here's the list of veggies I have gotten so far: leafy greens - romaine and red leaf lettuce, bok choy, escarole, endive, kale kale and more kale, Swiss chard, spinach, mizuna, yukina savoy, mustard greens; broccoli, turnips, radishes, kolrabi, potatoes, onions, scallions, basil times infinity, parsley, sage, rosemary, and yes, thyme, oregano, lavender, fresh cut flowers, peas, snap peas, green beans, yellow wax beans, yellow squash, zucchini, eggplant, tomatoes (regular, cherry, and paste), tomatilloes, peppers, edamame, cantaloupes, carrots, and watermelons. My diet is much much fuller of good for me food for a change!

* If you are Cameron Diaz.
** Turnips are just icky.

Farewell Old Friend

2010-07-30T15:18:00.000-04:00

When I signed over the old car care of my uncle's dealership, I gave the salesman a complete folder containing almost every service record which was lovingly preserved. I began to tell him about the anti-lock brakes, which I never fixed - but he cut me off. He told me it didn't matter, because the car was going to "death row."

Death row?

I was just a little tired of $600 bills, I didn't want it to go to "death row"!

I emailed Uncle Tim:

ME: Uncle Tim, My old car won’t be sent to “death row”, will it? I was thinking maybe a nice pasture where it could romp around with the other Cavaliers until it rests in peace?

HIM: It will continue its life as a productive member of the transportation community. The adoption agency (auction) will place it with a new foster family. After some nursing back to full health it will go to a permanent home.

Ahh, thank goodness.

Farwell Old Friend!*

* Sorry about the potholes. And the poor parallel parking. And never cleaning you. You served me well!

Trial and Error

2010-07-28T21:10:00.000-04:00

That Darn Cat! I was so excited to tell y'all about my new car, and she went and let the cat out of the bag. Ah, well, se es la vie.

The car is totally awesome and I love love love the hatchback and the cute rear wind shield wiper. Do not ask me about gas mileage or safety features. But I can tell you the cup holders are conveniently located, it has cruise control, and the radio works pretty well.

Naturally, the first thing I did was sit down and read the owner's manual front to back.

Not!

Instead, I have been pressing random buttons in futile attempts to do something. I tried cruise control, but have so far managed only to light up a "cruise" light on the dashboard. The light gives the appearance that speed regulation is occurring, but the needle going slowly and steadily down after my foot is disengaged from the gas pedal seems to imply otherwise. I messed around with the wind shield wipers (including cutie in the back!) and tried to clean the window. I was convinced the washer fluid container was empty, so I searched for the hood release. After accidentally removing the fuse box lid, I figured I should maybe peruse the manual. Hood up (hydraulic!) and fluid full. Hmmm...back to manual. Oh! So that's how you do it!

This morning, my friend wanted to know how I liked the car. Nice, I said, but so smooth. Normally, I attempt to miss potholes (I swear!) and pretty much hit every one. But this car runs so smooth, I can hardly feel potholes. Perhaps I have finally managed to avoid them? I think not...I told her it was so smooth I couldn't even tell how fast I was going.

At lunch, I put the key in the door to unlock it and --- WHA! WHA! WHA! WHA! WHA! AWEEEOAWEEEOAWEEO! Shit! After slight heart attack I began mashing buttons on the little button thingie. Thankfully, they all stop the beeping. So. The car has an alarm. And it goes off when you use the key in the door. I filed that little gem away for future reference, but I am sure I will forget at the most inopportune time, like when I am late for a funeral and everyone has just bowed their heads for a moment of silence. (I apologize in advance. I just never had one o' these button pushin' thingies.)

Also? I have never had power windows. I have awful memories of my parent's minivan with non-working power windows. The driver side one got stuck permanently down, in winter. Driving in 36 degree sleet is really not fun with the window all the way down. Then, my dad got some plexiglass and affixed it in the opening, but it was summer by that time, and I probably don't have to tell you the AC didn't work either. So, I have boycotted power windows. Who needs em? But unfortunately, I found power locks to be a necessity since I have had four doors to worry about and power locks don't come without power windows. So, every time I have stopped the car, I have had to put the key back in the ignition switch, and power up the friggin windows.

On the way home, it was smooooth sailing. Until I met up with an unmarked police vehicle in the opposite lane. He kindly flashed his lights and motioned for me to turn into a street on the right, and I figured there might be an accident ahead but I didn't know this detour. And then the guy follows me in, and I think maybe he is pulling me over. Apparently, I was going 53 in a 35 mile an hour zone. I didn't have to feign surprise because I was honestly shocked. Luckily, I had the paperwork to prove my claim (Seriously officer, I just bought this car yesterday!) and he let me off with a warning.

So...sure, I could read the manual. But where is the adventure in that?

Wastes of Money

2010-07-27T21:43:00.001-04:00

This Message Brought to You by Daisy the Cat:

Shhhh....I'm blogging in secret. But I don't think Nicki will find out, 'cause she's been really really busy and she hardly ever sits at the computer any more. So I figure I have free reign to rant about a few things that have been bugging me.

You see, all I wanna do is go outside, run around in the neighbor's garage for a bit, then eat the other neighbor's landscaping. After that, I really wanna check out the big pigeon coop across the street. Apparently, that is too much to ask.

So, I never get to go out, and even though Nicki said she might buy me this totally awesome cat carnival, she has been spending her money on other things.

Like, she has been on the phone with all these dirty guys with cement all over their jeans, and they say they're gonna build a place INSIDE the house to put fire! Isn't that crazy? Why would anyone bring FIRE into the house! I actually don't mind when those guys come over, though, because it gives me a chance to sneak sneak sneak outside, and Nicki is too busy looking at bricks to notice me. Still, this fire business is gonna require way more money than my cat carnival, yet she doesn't seem to bat an eye.

And then there are all these vegetables. Ewww. It seems to totally consume Nicki, and she spends all this time in the kitchen trying to cook stuff so she can use them up. Again, I say it's a complete waste of money. Why buy vegetables, when you could buy meat? Or cat carnivals?

But today, she went and bought the craziest thing ever:

She bought a new car! Now, I don't know much, but I think a certain cat carnival would cost a LOT less. This is the last straw! But...shhh! I have a plan. You see, this car is WHITE. And the inside is WHITE. And lets just say, the next time she takes me to the vet? Well, I won't give it away. But I have a plan.

And one of these days, maybe she will let me out. (I only hope maybe I will be let back in.)

Veggie of the Day: Mizuna

2010-06-27T14:18:00.000-04:00

Today's veggie is another leafy green, mizuna. This is a pretty veggie, and many fancy restaurants serve it on salads. I tried mizuna in salad, including the stems, which are a bit bitter and stringy. So it's okay in salad, just make sure you cut off the stems. I tried a recipe from Gourmet magazine, but gourmet, I am not. The recipe was hard to follow and I substituted a few times for items I could not find, or ones that were icky. In the case of beef suet (which I had to look up), it sounds icky, and I was unable to find it.

My resulting recipe was dubbed "Miso Mizuna Stew" because the base is very much like the miso soup you find in Japanese restaurants. Miso is very salty because it is essentially just soy sauce. However, you can add (or subtract, if that's your fancy) water as needed to change the saltiness.

Check it out on my recipe page at http://www.nicolebaer.net/. Click recipes, then Mizuna.

Queen of Domesticity

2010-06-22T23:47:00.000-04:00

This is not me.

My house is a constant mess and this gets on my nerves. My counter is full of papers. My mail is unsorted. My laundry is in various stages (from dirty to clean but unfolded to folded but not where it belongs). My toilet is icky, and my sink is full of dishes.

And yet, I get home from work, and I survey this mayhem, and I choose to eat a bazillion pretzels while sipping a beer and watching TV. What the heck is wrong with me??

Well, last week, I finally managed to motivate myself, only very slowly. I decided, no matter what, no matter how tired I am when I get home, or how many beers I had at happy hour, I am going to clean ONE room, EVERY day. Yeah! Go me!

It turns out I make exceptions when I am busy getting slightly drunk and a little lost in NYC. But this was OK, because I was in a different state. And a little drunk/lost. (It's a long story.)

So, it took a little longer than expected, but I have officially cleaned every room, and I will begin on round 2 tomorrow. The house looks much better, and each room gets cleaned once every week. This has been so motivating, that, drunken escapades aside, I have de-cluttered in non-designated rooms on several days.

This led me to tonight's discovery. I pulled out my under-the-sink com poster (even though it was bathroom day) and noted it was full. I pulled out the bag of organic contents for disposal in the big bin outside. Everyone who composts says the pile of rotting organics does not smell as long as you refrain from putting meats or animal fats in there. In general, I have found this to be (basically) true. Until tonight. I cannot describe the horridness of this smell. There turned out to be a brown liquid in the bottom of my inside bin. The liquid was leaking from the bag liner and it spilled onto my floor as I tried very hard not to puke on top of it. It was FOUL, and it stunk up my entire kitchen in a matter of seconds.

I soaked up the majority of the liquid with paper towels and tossed them to the garbage. I then used disinfectant wipes, bleach, a swiffer mop, and finally an old towel to wipe up the damage. I threw everything away and took the garbage out. I hosed down the side walk just outside the door where some of the liquid had fallen. I sprayed disinfectant.

And it still smells. It is like a combination of poo and BO. I think I can taste it. I feel ill.

That'll teach me to clean.

Cat in the Box Part 2

2010-06-19T22:17:00.001-04:00

What to do about my outdoor loving cat?

I began to research outdoor enclosures, figuring that there MUST be other stupid people out there who have learned these same lessons. There are. Incidentally, they appear to mostly be in Australia or New Zealand. And these people are not just stupid - they are also rich. And they have a LOT of time on their hands. And they do not mind an absolutely hideous cage like thing stuck haphazardly on the back of the house.

There are tons more of these monstrosities (most costing more than $1000, though I don't know how Aussie bucks compare to the real kind). I love my cat, but I found no solutions that were within my price range, nice looking, or easily constructed from universally understood instructions with cutesy pictures.

Then I found this:

Isn't it awesome?? (I mean, without the tacky birthbath inside.) It's called the "Kitty Grand Prix" and I love the description: "Designed to allow your cats the ability to run uninterrupted to their hearts content without having to stop at the end of the enclosure, turn around then run off again. The Kittywalk® Grand Prix is great for either one cat or can comfortably accommodate two to three cats happily together at the same time."

But alas, "Kitty Grand Prix" is over $400. I can afford only a 10-ft straight section similar to the round thing. I guess kitty will have to stay inside for now...

Cat in the Box Part I

2010-06-18T23:30:00.000-04:00

Prior to moving to our loverly new home, I was worried about my Puss. She had accompanied us on two prior moves. The first one, when I moved from the "Towson ghetto" -- which I thought was just fine and I wasn't actually aware of this reputation until after said move -- my Puss was just a year or so old. On moving day, she was holed up in the bathroom with a litter box and some food, and she sat happily in the window sill. She acted a bit wacky when we crated her up and took her to her new home, but later that night, she emerged from under the bed and seemed not to notice that she was relocated.

Move number two, the Puss was older (and wiser?), and she was FREAKED OUT by her new home. She slinked about for nearly a month, sniffing around in a confused manner. She seemed to recognize that the things around her were her things, but the dwelling was all wrong.

I attributed this to her age, which was about five. I am more set in my ways at my ripe old age of 32, so I can relate. I figured she would be even more freaked by the house.

Turned out, I need'nt have worried. Puss was more at home in the house than we were.

But now, it is summer, and the Beast wants O-U-T! (We have to spell it, but I think she is catching on to that - I'd say she's a genius, but she was just in here a moment ago chasing her own tail for a spell and is likely puking somewhere now. I don't think many geniuses do that.) I figured all I would need to do is train her regarding the boundaries of the yard. Stop laughing. Seriously!! She is (mostly) aware that she cannot jump on counters or dining tables, and I thought we could use similar tactics (squirt bottle) to teach her where she cannot roam.

OK, are you done laughing?

I'm waiting....

Well, HA! I did teach her the boundaries of the yard through consistent reinforcement of the lines. She is absolutely aware of where her yard ends, and the world begins.

What I hadn't counted on was that she just doesn't care. She wanted out SO BADLY, that it seemed cruel not to allow her to go. Who am I to deny a fellow mammal the joy of grass between her toes and blue skies above her head? But, she was consistently vacating the premises. I watched her pretty diligently, but invariably, I would turn my eyes away because watching a cat sniff for more than ten minutes can get surprisingly dull. The instant I let my guard down, she zipped away.

Frankly, it was starting to get embarrassing. I would be seen by many a neighbor, looking for the damn CAT! One would likely be wondering why I kept letting her out. But one would not know how she begged and wanted to be out so badly.

So, I bought a cat harness.

Oh yes, they sell these at Pet Smart. For cats. They also sell ties specifically for cats. I did not buy one because it was only 10 feet long. I got the 40 footer. (Which, it turns out, gives Miss Puss the ability to walk nearly the width of the whole yard. My property is very long, but not so wide.) It also turns out, Miss Puss does not care for the harness. Totally expected. But I did not realize she'd be able to get out of it. Apparently, cats do not have shoulder blades, and this allows them to dislocate their shoulders at will and without pain. Also, their necks are thicker than their heads. It is as though cats were designed to get out of harnesses. Luckily, I can use the 40ft tie as a clothesline....

Veggie of the Day: Yukina Savoy

2010-06-13T19:32:00.001-04:00

Today's veggie is the spinach-like leafy green, yukina savoy. I wasn't able to find many (any) recipes for this wacky veggie, but lots of farms are growing them for CSA's, leaving many a blogger to pontificate on what the heck to do with it. I just substituted it for spinach in a recipe for Lebanese Beef and Rice, and it turned out great!

Check it out on my recipe page at http://www.nicolebaer.net/. Click recipes, then Yukina Savoy. I might figure out how to direct link...but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.

I am happy to report that this recipe did receive two thumbs up. It has a great flavor, and the yukina savoy is subtly mixed in with a lot of meat so my live-in carnivore was not too resistant. My only complaint is that it turns out a little dry since there is no real sauce for the meat.

A Birth Story

2010-06-11T07:22:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was the anniversary of my entrance into the world. (This is me about a year and 6 months after the event - with my great grandmother who passed away in 1988.)

Rather than read about my birthday, you have to read this. It is the most real story of giving birth I have ever read. It's funny, it's scary, it's a bit gross, and in the end, it's beautiful.

Veggie of the Day: Bok Choy

2010-06-10T20:29:00.001-04:00

Today's recipe is Cashew Choy Chicken. (Picture by others).

Check it out on my recipe page at http://www.nicolebaer.net/. Click recipes, then Bok Choy. I might figure out how to direct link...but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.

This recipe got one thumb up from me, and a thumb down from Adam. This is to be expected for most recipes involving green leafy things, so don't let it deter you. I thought it was delish!

CSA, Week 1: Is There an Ap For That?

2010-06-09T20:26:00.000-04:00

I thought joining the CSA was a well researched, completely thought out plan. As usual, it turns out I had no clue what I was doing, so I am sure amusing blog-worthy stories will result.

I nearly forgot to pick up my veggies on Friday. Amidst the stinky chaos of a crying pussy cat and the contents of her digestive system, I was driving home when I realized I had totally spaced on the CSA. I cursed a little bit, for some reason thinking that pick up hours ended at 2pm instead of just starting at that time.

But, as luck would have it, I was able to swing by the farm on my way home. With kitty in car, I rushed to gather 16 types of vegetables. Sixteen? Yes, sixteen. I am not entirely sure we even eat sixteen meals in a week, so this was my first inkling that I may be in over my head.

I rushed back to the car with mostly leafy things, and found kitty to be perfectly at ease.

I planned to do some internet research on the wierdo things I got, but the monsoon of Friday night caused a power outage.

****
Completely unrelated sidebar: Someone at work has a Droid. You know, those google phones that compete with the iphone? Adam wants one because he can program his own aps for this totally open-source platform. How do I know someone at work has a Droid? Because the sound you hear on the commercial, "Droid" is the default sound byte for the email alert. And this guy at work gets an email every. five. minutes. Thank goodness he is sort of new and he doesn't get emails every forty five seconds like I do. I am hearing "Droid" in my head now, randomly. It is like a bad song that won't go away. Several people have asked him to change the setting, but he can't figure it out. He said it goes off at 2am when spam mail trickles in, and it wakes up his dogs. But he finally got it synced with his stereo system so he can voice dial... Me? I would have made the "Droid" thing a higher priority.

But I digress (more). Adam has been thinking up some very cool ideas for Droid aps. I won't give them away here. But trust me - he is a super genius. And on Sunday, I thought of an ap, too:

I need to search the internet by picture. Not like now, when you google in a known item and you get a list of images. I mean you have a picture of an unknown thing, say, a green leafy vegetable from a CSA, and you search for the thing. Wouldn't that be great??

So, if there's an ap for that, please let me know. In the meantime, I researched "green leafy Asian vegetables" for several hours before figuring out what I had. And then I researched how to use them.

The results of my internet time were beneficial, and I have started posting recipe pages specific to these weirdo veggies for other CSA members. These will just be links on the ole' blog - one thing I found is that if you're looking for useful info on how to cook misome, you ain't interested in the story of how I thought I had misome but actually had yukina savoy so sorry no help here.

The veggies I have: romaine lettuce (trust me, it gets weirder), tat soi (see?), kholrabi, bok choy, green and red mustard greens, mizuna, yukina savoy, radishes, baby turnips, basil, parsely, dill, broccoli, and kale.

Looking forward to next week!

***If you are interested in joining my CSA, there are still spots available! This is a great way to support local people, teach yourself and your kids about how veggies grow, and try new things. Just Click Here to learn more.***

CSA, Intro

2010-06-07T21:15:00.000-04:00

Welcome to my newest endeavor, CSA. That's "Community Sustained Agriculture" to you newbies out there. Perhaps y'all have known about and enjoyed a CSA for years. Perhaps like me, you've been reading books and watching movies about the food industry in this country, and fallen victim to the hype of "the damn lib'ral hippies". True, this is a liberal, hippie idea - and a good one.

Basically, you pay a farmer in the beginning of the year for a share of his or her crops. This gives the farmer some cash up front which can be used to purchase seeds, pay employees, buy equipment, etc - all the normal start up costs of a business. Many CSA programs offer payment plans, and will allow you to work on the farm in exchange for veggies, which leaves lots of options for people without the income to pay up front.

I know, I know - I said that I wanted a yard so I could have a garden and this is still true.

**Warning - round of excuses beginning.**

I bought a gardening book which said I should start a garden in the fall. I do not know the area I moved to and thusly do not know what is best method for hiring someone or borrowing or renting a tiller. I was not certain how to start a garden from yard. I did not have the proper tools. and: I did not know how much / what to plant.

**OK, I think I am done.**

So, I decided joining a CSA would help me learn what to plant and how much, and allow me to start a small garden on my own time this summer instead of Mother Nature's. Because in January, February, and most of March, I was busy with house buying/moving/painting/decorating.

I found my CSA through a really useful site called Marylands Best. At first, I was looking for the Farmers Markets near my new house, so I sort of stumbled across this idea. I tried valiantly to be a regular marketer last summer, but many Farmers Markets are held during weekday mornings. Out of 20 markets near my old apartment, I had a list of three that were conveniently (enough) located and at a reasonable time which did not require time off from work or waking at ungodly single digit hours on a weekend. Farmers Markets tend to operate using this crazy old fashioned currency made of paper and metal. I hear tell the stuff can be gotten from machines, but I rarely remembered to visit one of these before the market, and this was another deterrent.

As I read about CSA's on a whim, I realized I need not alter my lifestyle for the sake of produce. I paid in one lump sum, thus erasing the need for that paper stuff, and the pickups are once a week after work. As a two person household, practically 1-1/4 since Adam refuses nearly all vegetables, I was looking for a reasonable share size that was reasonably priced and reasonably close to home. I found all three! Yippee!

A Little

2010-06-05T16:03:00.000-04:00

Never ask if something can get any worse. It can.

After writing my blog yesterday, I went out to the car to clean up the damage. (Yeah, that's where my priorities lie.)

I was acting quickly, because the sky was ominous, and the thunder was nearing. Just when I thought I had beat the storm, it rolled in to tell me otherwise:

This picture isn't great, so allow me to point out a few snippets. First, I am soaked after the walk from my car to my carport, which is approximately two steps. Second, the white lines behind me are not camera errors. That would be rain, and lots of it. Just behind me, in the grass, are three of the four car mats. I figured I would let nature do the work.

Driving Miss Daisy

2010-06-04T17:26:00.002-04:00

I took off early from work today so I could take the cat to the vet. She was just there a few weeks ago for an emergency visit so the typical time elapse in which Miss Daisy forgets the trauma was not there. So, knowing trauma was still fresh in kitty brain, I stealthily retrieved her Kat Karrier.* I did learn a new trick for getting kitty into the Karrier.** Cover her eyes. Yeah...cats aren't all that smart...

I loaded crying kitty into car, and was on my way. She whined, and I comforted, and she whined some more. All was well for about ten minutes. (Did I forget to mention that I am still taking her to the old vet despite moving 45 minutes away??)

Then, the whining became more pronounced and I began panicking because I knew this tone meant "I am about to excrete something from my body."

I slowed the car, hoping to reverse what I knew to be an irreversible process.

And then the cat puked. And puked. And puked.

The smell. My Lord, the smell. It caused me to gag. And gag. And gag. With tears in my eyes, I pulled into a parking lot and fished through the trunk for supplies. I removed the cat from the Karrier, and scooped more puke than should reasonably fit in such a small cat out onto the pavement. (Hey, it's biodegradable! Quit judging!)

But it gets worse.

I decided it would be ok to leave her out of the Karrier, even though she invariably crawls under the passenger seat and I have to pry her out by the legs hoping I won't be reported to Animal Services each time I do that. She seemed content enough on the floor, but I was rather nervous because Miss Daisy has a reputation for excreting from both ends when she gets this upset. I figured she must be feeling better after such a massive ejection, and we were nearly on the highway by then, so I crossed my fingers hoping for smooth sailing. After about five minutes, she tried scooting under the seat and I (safely) began playing goalie and blocking the entrance while driving. So she peed right there.

Whoa. That was a new one. She was on the mat, and the smell was not too bad, so I focused on the drive and tried to Grin and Baer it.

But it gets worse.

At this point, the cat has no place to sit that isn't pee covered or puke infested. I patted my lap and encouraged her to sit nicely for the duration of our trip. Unfortunately, she hadn't wiped, and I immediately felt moisture on my leg. Nice.

But it gets worse.

Unhappy on my lap (or perhaps satisfied that my jeans would now require washing), the cat began sniffing at the floor below me. I did have to draw the line of safety there, as I began imagining how I would explain to the officer how I couldn't stop because a cat was lodged under my brake pedal. Reluctantly, I let her go to the passenger side, knowing she would crawl under that damn seat. Which she proceeded to do. I began to smell more unpleasantness which was totally unsurprising. I wondered if it was possible to imagine a smell because you think it will come, and my mind is just playing tricks on me. As I thought of this, kitty thankfully crawled onto the back seat and meowed at me once again. I turned my head briefly to look at her and saw the pile of poo. I was dismayed but slightly relieved because it was not under the seat and quite reachable.

But it gets worse.

Kitty began to meow insistently again, and I thought, what more can she do? Spontaneously explode? Because really, the only bodily fluids she could possibly have left are blood and earwax. Having destroyed all floor options for sitting, she apparently was uncertain where to sit next. She meowed and paced about in the back seat, and even tried out sitting on the back seat head rests for a spell. Meanwhile, we are nearly at the vet, the number two smell is mingling with the number one and vomit, and I am beginning to lose patience. We sat through an entire light cycle without moving an inch because some asshole was blocking the intersection. Ugh! If he only knew the chaos in my car at the moment! The cat meowed again, and I turned to tell her we were almost there when I noticed that she had stepped in the poo and tracked little pooey kitty paw prints all over the back.

Thank god, at that moment, the light turned green and the intersection was free. The vet weighed her and noted that she had lost weight since her last visit. Go figure.

Could It Get Any Worse??

*Why is it necessary to spell this way?
**No really. Why?

Tomato Tragedy

2010-06-01T19:41:00.000-04:00

Imagine your first trip to an amusement park. Not the trip where you were in diapers and riding the little fire engines around in a circle - I mean the real trip. The time you were finally big enough to ride the big kid rides. You probably didn't go on them alone. Most likely, you went with someone you trusted, someone who would take care of you, just in case, horror of all horrors, something bad happened.

So you get all strapped in, after possibly hours of waiting with anticipation for the big trip. The ride begins to move.

And the car tips over, dumping you and all the other riders face first into the hard earth below.

This is the ride my poor poor tomato plants took today. It was awful. After saying a few choice and very naughty words, I lunged for my overturned cart .Yes, it was pretty much already overturned by the time my lighting fast reflexes kicked in. My poor plants! Many of their little stems were snapped in two, and a few more suffered near breaks. I was running a triage center, trying to rescue the ones that could be saved, and sadly admitting that there wasn't much hope for a few of them.

My garden book warned me that tomatoes are a little less tolerant of transplanting than other veggies. How true.

I planted them all anyway. I couldn't bear to pronounce an official time of death. I carefully tied the poor broken stems to support sticks, and I am hoping for the best. Admittedly, there is not much hope for five of the fifteen plants. They are so sad to look at, with their wilted leaves and broken stems tied to life support. There are about three more plants that are in intensive care. Their stems were severed, but their leaves are still in good shape, and looking at them, I can hardly tell they rely on a stick for support.

Its tragic, I suppose. I literally bent over forwards, in ninety degree weather, for several hours to plant these plants. But what can you do but Grin and Baer It?

Body Sculpting II

2010-05-31T20:53:00.000-04:00

After taking the pre-requisite for this course - pushing a 20inch mower uphill (both ways) - I advanced to "digging a garden". Many gardening adds show a sweet little old lady in pink gardening gloves kneeling lovingly over her perfect plants.

Understandably, they do not show me - wearing a tank top with built in shelf bra, glasses due to high probability of dirt in the contacts, unshowered and dripping sweat as I stomped on my shovel and heaved earth, well, out of the earth. I realized mid dig that my shoulders were turning an unsightly share of red, so I was forced to retrieve a tee-shirt. It was only about 85 degrees yesterday, a heat wave compared to today, so I drenched the shirt in water before heading back out.

Many bars advertise cute blondes with large breasts in tight, white, wet tees.

Still unshowered, still dripping, caked with dirt, and with oversized wet tee, I did not quite look like that.

But I was finally comfortable in the sunny spot chosen for what was looking like two long wheel streaks in the yard. Starting a garden from yard is hard work. First, I took a square shovel and removed the top few inches of sod, one shovel-ful at a time. I placed the sod into my cart, and when cart is full, I struggled to pull it up my hill to various areas of the yard needing some patching. The sod was heavy, the cart was hard to pull, and I make have mentioned before - it was HOT. This went a little faster when I ran out of patching places and was able to take it back to the park behind the house. It was downhill!

This step took about 3 hours of mostly pure exhaustion, but with a short break or two in the shady tree on the other side of the yard. When finished, I had a 5-foot by 12-foot section of what was actually looking like a garden! (Or a grave...) I had a nice beer sitting at my new patio set, which is situated under two shady trees near the house. I thought of having a second beer...but alas, there was more work to do.

The next step was to "till" the land using a pitchfork. I considered renting a tiller, but figured the Cavalier, though much roomier than it looks, would not be the ideal transportation for such a machine.

With some trepidation, I went to retrieve the 2.5 cubic yards of garden soil, purchased, but not carried, by me. I tried carrying it, since I knew Adam would be away visiting a friend when I had to use it, but there were many (at least two) men at Home Depot who couldn't stand to watch me struggle with the bag. Man #1 lifted into the cart, saying helpfully, "Good luck getting it out of there." Man #2 lifted it out of the cart and into the car - he was much stronger than Man #1, but neither of them lifted it easily. Again, it wasn't pretty, but I managed to slide / roll the bag - which really doesn't look all that heavy - into my garden cart.

I turned the ground over once with the pitch fork, pulling out rocks, and breaking up clumps as I went. This did not take too long, but I could feel my back muscles screaming, and the callouses on my hands were starting to blister. I then dumped the new soil, and dragged it on top of the garden (back began screaming louder). I then turned the ground a second time to mix the soil in. No planting yet. Garden experts recommend letting it sit for a few months, so I figure 12 hours oughta do it.

I will be planting tomatoes, tomatoes, more tomatoes, and a few peppers. My garden book says to plant two to six plants (six if I want a lot of work.) My dad gave me 15. What a surprise, this appears to be overdoing it.

Body Sculpting

2010-05-30T20:52:00.000-04:00

I haven't been to the gym in ages. I've got this new, hopefully effective, and definitely time consuming body sculpting routine. Its called yard work.

Don't misunderstand me, I prefer yard work over house work, and work work. But, judging by the state of my bathroom at the moment, you would understand that saying I prefer something over housework is like saying I prefer being healthy over being sick. Still, I purchased a property with a lot of land because I was looking forward to yard work.

I did not plan on mowing the 1.5 acre lawn with a non-motorized push mower. That, my friends, was an agonizing, back breaking, and incredibly long endeavor that left stubborn long stalks of grass and dandelions sticking out sporadically. The longer sections of grass required not a second, or a third pass, but as many as six passes to cut before I would bend down in disgust and just pull the dang thing out.

After two weeks of this, and riding mower still in Pennsylvania waiting on a new part, we caved and bought a gasoline powered push mower. This was an extreme improvement over the other mower since it took only one pass to cut even the longest blades of grass. We didn't even mind that it took four hours and three gas refills to finish the lawn - at first. This is fine if you actually have four hours to devote to one chore - weekly. But as soon as you have, you know, other stuff to do, well, mowing the lawn becomes a bit of a nuisance.

The house was built in 1967, so we thought, wouldn't it be neat-o to have a lawn mower that was as old as the house? We got our wish. I really should scan some of the original 1967 lawn tractor operating instructions. But lets just say that beehives are a-plenty, and women's lib was in full swing because they are careful to show each family member (mom, dad, brother, and sister) on the tractor having a grand ole' time.

So, last week, my father finally drove the lawn mower down on a rickety rented trailer. And it started, sort of. He managed to coax the ignition, and the VERY LOUD engine ran....but we were not able to keep it running with the blades attached. We were proud owners of a VERY LOUD four wheeler, and some VERY HEAVY attachments.

And then yesterday, after a week of tinkering by Adam, and my contribution of occasionally lifting the other end of things, traveling to stores with lists of unknown parts for purchase, and all important light holding, we got the thing started - with the blades attached.

And then, it mowed!

Yeah, sorry. The excitement ends there. Would it help if I add a second exclamation point!!?

Bug Battles

2010-05-29T11:45:00.000-04:00

The battle with the ants is once again leaning in favor of the good guys. As long as wee keep the counter tops wiped up, and the dishes in the sink to a minimum, we are relatively ant-free. Actually, I should thank the ants - Adam is much more diligent about his own contributions to the cause and he has been cleaning in the kitchen more often.

So now we have fruit flies. Well, I think they are big for fruit flies, but for lack of interest in internet research on species, let's call them fruit flies. They stay pretty much out of site during the day, though you can find them clustered around water sources. At about sunset, they all come out and just sit. They would not bother me so much, since they are non-bitey, non-stingy, and not crawling on my food and/or pillow, but there are just so MANY of them. They are an army, and a force to be reckoned with.

They are super easy to kill. They move slowly, so a wap with the flyswatter does them in in a jif. But it does them in a little too well. One wap, and there are bug guts an inch long on the ceiling. One tap, and the guts are limited to a dime size area. So I kill like 50 of the little suckers in a minute, then spend the next 50 minutes moving my step stool around and cleaning up the crime scene.

We found they could be killed with a deadly clap. They fly slowly, so it is not too hard to get them in mid air. So no icky guts on my new kitchen paint - just on my hand. Ewww! So, I got my rubber kitchen gloves, which once again need replacing because I will never be able to convince myself the bug guts are washed off and I can cut food with these on again. I walked around the room, clapping the claps of death and making eerie "wah ha ha" sounds. But I cannot reach the ceiling bugs without the swatter, and so I was back in the same spot.

This morning, I found that I could suck them up in my Dirt Devil. Wah ha ha! Again! I am amazed that the little bugs still just sit there as this loud thing saunters up and sucks them to their doom. The ones that do fly are the most fun though, because I can suck them right out of the air. Shuzaw! Phoom! I imagine the Batman like cartoon strip - me the evil villan - as I lumber through the town sucking the citizens from their very homes!

And then I hit my heel on the back of the counter as I was circling around, looking up at the little buzzy fly, and not at the ground around me.

Score one for the fly.

Score a bazillion for me.

But I am not sure when I should empty the Dirt Devil...

Top Ten Signs You Might Be A Tad OVerstresSed

2010-05-26T20:19:00.000-04:00

1. You apologize to your phone when you pick up the handset and accidentally knock a piece of paper onto the display.

2. You admit to the person on the other line that you have just apologized to your phone.

3. You schedule your eye doctor appointment three months after you realize you are out of contacts, one week after you end up in tears at restaurant due to pain of dry and ripped contact and have to drive home one-eyed, and three days after glasses (from 2005) cause pinched nose and headaches...

4. ....and you do not so much "schedule" said appointment as you show up on one of Wal-Mart Vision Center "Walk-In Days".

5. You schedule stress-relieving "Lets Dish" session....and forget to go.

6. You are involved in a consuming "Battle with the Ants" - and the ants are winning (possibly due to teacup with honey coated bottom which has been sitting unwashed in sink for five days). Possibly.

7. You finally get to post office to mail thank you gift that you forgot to bring to professional event after recipient of said gift reminds you - twice. When at post office, you laugh uncontrollably at irony of post office's mail when helpful worker gives you junk flyers to pack around gift.

8. You are afraid to get on Wii Fit for fear that current diet of vending machine corn chips has caused weight gain. Is best to remain ignorant.

9. You haven't bought mothers day gift yet...(this will most likely work out in mom's favor as guilt will cause inclination to spend more money.) Ditto on graduation gift...

10. You do not blog for nearly a month, and when you do, it is lame-o list.

The Amish May Be On To Something...

2010-04-23T20:08:00.000-04:00

This is my lawn:

This is my lawn mower:

The neighbors probably think we are Amish....

....nah. The Amish would have a mule pull this thing.

I hope the riding mower will be fixed soon....

Projects

2010-04-17T19:00:00.000-04:00

It's a bit chilly outside today, so we are catching up on projects. For instance, I finally opened, and unpacked, the last two boxes today. Yay, me! We moved in about two months ago, and these boxes have been sitting out in the open. One, labeled "photos and photo albums" was the first box I remember packing just after our offer was accepted. The other, labeled "candles" was packed a day or two later. They have been alternately plaguing me as though nagging to be opened, and dropping from my radar altogether. Perhaps I should have made this more of a priority...but I stick to my initial assessment - Yay, me!

Project #2 is finally wiring up the new bathroom vanity fixture (purchased January 2nd, I just found the receipt this morning), the new fan-light combo, and the switch which will operate the lights separate from the fan. The previous wiring leaves a bit to be desired in the I-hope-my-wiring-doesn't-set-my-house-on-fire sentiment we all have. I haven't lost sleep over it, but there was no junction box behind the old vanity light and the fan hasn't worked properly since we moved in. Plus, every time we remove some section of wiring in order to improve upon it, we find some other problem. Today it was the hall light, which had rusted wires coming into it. Tomorrow, we're off to buy a new light fixture, and we'll probably replace the other hall light too, which is the same type. Based on our current track record, I expect that to be completed mid July.

Project #3 is actually somewhat recent by my standards - only been on the to do list since mid March. However, in order to cover a white lampshade with leftover curtain material to create awesome decorative style, one must google "how to cover a lampshade."

I have the "auto-type" feature turned on, and it is somewhat amusing how the computer thinks you may wish to finish this sentence. When I had only "how to c" typed, it suggested I was looking to cash a savings bond - which is related to a recent search I did, trying to determine the value of some bonds...but second was "how to crochet". Odd how my computer could be so close to guessing at a possible suggestion, then being so far off. It is like my computer doesn't even know me.

By the time I had "how to cover" in there, I got "how to cover acne" (ouch!), "how to cover a book with a paper bag", and "how to cover letter" (umm, let's start by not omitting words). Sure enough, "how to cover a lampshade" came up further down the list, after covering cold sores, tattoos, and sump pumps.

Unfortunately, this project will involve a trip to (gulp) Michaels or some similar craft store. I am sure to get right on that.

Scattered Thoughts

2010-04-14T21:10:00.000-04:00

Holy crap, I nearly forgot my password for blogger and this means I have once again neglected my poor little spot in the webiverse.

I've been busy.

First of all, I should probably apologize. We have had gorgeous weather the last few weeks, and I jumped the gun a bit yesterday by deciding it was not necessary to bring a coat to work. It was about 40 degrees and rainy. So I'm sorry. I had no idea I had that kind of power. I brought a coat to work today and was once again sweltering in the greenhouse gasses that built up in the car all afternoon. As it should be. It's cool.

I weeded my front yard and planted a few flowers and some strawberries. Turns out the yard has been a tad neglected for the past ten years or so. Apparently the previous owner was an older lady with Alzheimer's. The neighbors have some interesting stories. She was sometimes seen sweeping the yard in the wintertime at midnight...but I do not think this maintenance plan was overly effective. So I say "weeding", but it was more like removing the sod and moss that had overgrown the plantings, and pulling out the massive strands of poison ivy. Luckily, I am one of the select members of the population unaffected by poison ivy. Sure, I have allergic reactions to some laundry detergents, and the nickel in some watches and jewelry...but I am spared from poison ivy. It makes no sense.

I paid my taxes later than I have ever paid them before. I mailed the forms on Monday, which for me is super late. I walked to the post office since I was out of stamps and met a few of Baltimore's finest. Two women were walking together, but each talking on a cell phone. I wondered if they were talking to one another.

Mostly, I have been totally digging springtime. Baltimore has a lot of beautiful flowering trees this time of year, and there are even some in my own front yard. A song keeps going through my head, and for once I haven't tried to get it out:

Hey, it's OK, it's alright, I'm alive

and it's good to be!

The Bridge (a Baltimore band - check them out here)

Stompa Stompa STOMPa

2010-03-28T15:31:00.003-04:00

We went to see "STOMP!" last night at the Hippodrome Theater in Baltimore. When I saw the tour was coming, I was more delighted that it is a theater related production Adam will tolerate attending with me than for the show itself. Ever since I was a little girl, I have loved musicals, and one of my first obsessions as a kid was "Annie". My mom even made me an Annie dress, and I was a bit psychotic for all things Annie.

First obsession? Well...no. Probably first obsession was Fred Rogers. Actually, come to think of it, my adult self would have been my three year old self's hero - I still wear cardigan sweaters daily due to coldness in office, and I seriously thought of buying a pair of blue sneaks with white piping on the bottom the other day. (Did not buy them do to recent need to save money for payment of largeish bills.)

So Annie was second obsession. My life from age three to sixteen can pretty much be chronologically sorted into various obsessions. I can picture the timeline now: Mr. Rogers, Annie, the Smurfs, bit of a dry spell, Bon Jovi, Kirk Cameron, (I think we're up to fifth grade now), The Babysitters Club books (I was so jealous of kids who had neighbors and could walk to school), Alan Alda (of M*A*S*H), Saturday Night Live, Anthony Kedis (of the Red Hot Chili Peppers), Aerosmith. When I got to college, I found little time for obsessions as I was too busy, umm, studying. Yeah. Studying.

I still love me a good musical, and really want to see Les Miserables in a theater*.

I am aware that musicals are not very realistic. I have never been delusional about this, and I admit, chorus numbers used to bug me. Here would be someone singing a spontaneous song about a personal hardship, and suddenly the random man off the street joins in, and knows all the words? Of course, I got over it. After all, the whole premise is a fantasy, for people don't go about singing and dancing when life gives them lemons (or lemonade). But I ask you: how great would it be if they did?

Not very, according to Adam. He just can't get over the absurdity of it all.

So, in general, I miss the musicals when they come into town. I saw "Chicago" with some girl friends, and of course I saw "Annie" with my sister and grandmother...but I have never been to the Hippodrome with my Adam.

I have always been intrigued by STOMP!, but a little wary that it would be akin to a three hour drum solo. I enjoy an occasional drum solo, but even when the drummer is awesome, I can't tolerate more than about 5 or 10 minutes. But when this show was over, I was kind of surprised. "Why are all these people getting up for a standing ovation?" I thought. "Don't they know the show isn't over yet?"

But then the cast came out and bowed a bit and it was over. Even the cast coming out didn't totally convince me - there are only eight cast members and the show was a bit interactive. It would not be odd for all eight members to be on stage, "talking" (the show is silent, except for the banging) to the audience. But when the house lights came on, I realized. The show was over. Apparently it was almost two hours long. Go figure. It only seemed like 20 minutes.

*I'm just sayin'. If you're interested.

Mini MacGuyver

2010-03-26T18:08:00.001-04:00

I recently posted about my secret desire to mimic MacGuyver. One of my personal faves is my solution for a missing hairtie: I pull my hair into a single braid and use my ring to circle around the end. I slide the ring up as far as it will go, and wah-lah! Instant hairtie. I have very thin hair and small fingers, but I think even thick haired folks could at least pull back some hair using this method. I most often use this at the gym - it survives the average step aerobics class without loss of ring.

Turns out, my geniousness (geniosity?) is inspirational.

When the furnace wasn't working, we turned it off. Though not 30 degrees anymore, it can still get chilly at night, so we built a fire and closed all the doors so as to keep the heat in the living room. We used a space heater at night in the bedroom, but kept the door open a crack since the cat likes to go in and out. She has cat business to attend to at night - in addition to the occasional romp on my kidneys, she needs to eat and poop.

She cannot, however, open doors. So her litter box might as well have been in China.

She tried to tell us. She was especially annoying and more attentive to her kidney-stomping. I have learned that, in general, loveyness does not translate from cat language into "I love you", "I like you" or even, "I tolerate your existence." It generally means, "I am hungry", "I am hungry", or "Feed me now before I learn how to work a phone and call animal services for there is dish visible below my food."

Apparently, cat affection can also mean "I need to take a dump, like seriously, let me into the frickin bathroom."

But, my little mini MacGuyver was not phased by her dumb humans.

She found a plant, dug out the dirt, and pooped on the fireplace hearth. She neatly covered her droppings with the dirt, and continued with her day.

I am so proud. (And very glad that I was not home to observe it firsthand.)

Apparently, I AM Made of Money...Or So They Think

2010-03-25T16:57:00.001-04:00

I was driving to a meeting the other day, when a few lights popped up unexpectedly on the dash. Yikes.

They seemed to indicate that I did not have brakes - certainly not anti lock brakes, not so sure on the regular ones - so of course, I continued driving. I do this often with weird noises, and I find that a proper radio volume is an extremely effective means of silencing these minor annoyances. But lights? Not so easy to ignore. Plus there was the whole "I might lose my brakes" concern. So, I drove back to the office, then home, then to volleyball back in the city, then home again, and back to the office. But those darn light just didn't go off*:

Finally, I took the car in to the shop...and decided to let them know that the last repair attempt was unsuccessful (in September 2008, or so their records say...I kinda thought it was like a month ago...)

The bill: $1100. Double yikes.

"So...do my regular brakes work?" I say.
"Yea," the guy says, "but you don't have anti-lock brakes."
"You would only use those in a panic situation," he adds helpfully.
"So I don't need need those?"
"Well, not usually. But in a panic siutation..." he trails off.
"Ok - let's just wait on that," I say with confidence.

The bill: $630. Back to one and half yikes, with only minor fear of sliding uncontrollably off a cliff.
I drove home.

And then I saw the decidedly unnormal black smoke rising from the furnace vent.

"That's totally normal, right?" I tried to convince Adam.
"Uhhh...no."
"And that nasty smell? That's just, umm, from the cat, right? Or maybe there is a dead thing in the basement?" I was trying to think positively.

The furnace guys seemed to think otherwise. They're here right now, cleaning the thing out. And another guy is supposed to turn up shortly with a $475 part. Great.

****

Understandably, I am a tad more conscious of my spending patterns, and it was with much righteousness that I returned the the supermarket which had charged me $5.49 for a gallon of milk. I had seen this price posted, but also saw that the "club price" was only $2.59, so I figured my card didn't work. This because I had also purchased steaks to cook out on the beautiful sunny weekend (the Weber works great, Brandon!). But the steaks too, were listed at $5.88 a pound with obnoxious signs, and I was charged $7.89.

You know that saying, "the customer is always right?" Well...sometimes the customer is a moron. The person at the desk explained how I bought Organic Milk, which was truly $5.49, and how the steaks were not listed as sale items. (I went back to the meat department and saw that the sale price was only given if 4 or more steaks were purchased.) I practically begged her not to give me my money back, and apologized for my inability to read...but she gave it to me anyway. And she is sending a new card out to the house.

So, car repair: minus $630.
Furnace repair: minus $719
Wegmans refund: plus $9.99

Feeling like a moron: priceless.

Dang, I wish I was made of money. But you know, even if I had a million dollars, I would not want to spend it on "solenoid valve replacements", new "BP pressure chambers", or "organic milk". Vacations in exotic places? Now that's more like it.

*Note in this picture, I am NOT moving.