Flopsy, Mopsy & Cottontail

I'm no Mr. McGregor, but I do own a cat with a tail that swishes slowly back and forth. This particular little bugger is after my beautiful leafy greens. I hope for his own sake that he does not meet Famous Amos or he may end up in next weeks rubbage bin. 

Thea Cole-Stutz-Oldroyd

When someone dies you cook. It's what you do. When a cat dies, especially one with a thrice hyphenated last name, you make cake. 

What are you going to do with your Saturday?

I have been asked this question multiple times this past week. Each time I found it difficult to answer, because it's sort of a loaded question. If I respond with the truth, "Same thing I do every other day because I'm on summer vacation and have no responsibilities in life and can do whatever I please," this could be met with, a bit of, ooooh... hostility. However, if I answer with the fair and truthful, but unattractive, "Oh. Run some errands, clean up the house. Maybe take the dog on a run, or do a little gardening - maybe some book reading," I can quickly see the look in their eyes change from the excited "this-girl-has-endless-possibilities-of-fun-having-to-be-had-on-this-Saturday", to the feared, "oh-my-dear-sweet-Lord-your-life-is-really-much-more-dull-than-I-had-anticipated". 

What am I supposed to do lie? I mean if I had "endless-possibilities-of-fun-having-to-be-had" don't you think that I might have already shared them with you? So if at this point I've not mentioned anything earth shatteringly incredible that I will be spending my Saturday doing, you can most likely assume that I will be doing what most people do on their Saturdays - a little bit of "weekend work" and a little bit of "lounge about the house". 

So obviously now, all you can think is, "Sooo... what are you going to do with your Saturday?" because you are, unequivocally, unable to stop yourself from asking this question - much like weather talk. Deep down, or maybe not so deep down, people do not like this question. "What are you going to do with your Saturday?" and all you can think is, "Aaah... not talk with you apparently". But, being the gracious, and patient, and kind person that I am, I shall indulge your terrible social awkwardness and invite you into the wild and wonderful world that is Saturday Errand Running. 

I woke up particularly early to pick up some friends and deposit (yes, deposit) them at the park-n-ride so that they could get themselves to the airport. Picked up a little coffee on my way home and had a visit with my husband before he went to bed (works overnight in the ED - gets home when other people get up). Then it was off to tackle the motherload, Target & Costco on a Saturday. Luckily, I was solo in my Saturday errand running and therefore had high hopes of being able to weave stealthily between large slow moving obstacles, be they lost children, or desperate mother's stocking up their pantries for Y2K. In Target I purchased a trendy little canvas bag so as to not kill polar bears, and ending up in a looping-gouge-your-eyes-out conversation with the lady at the check stand because she really wanted me to buy a different one that would fold up and fit in my purse. No amount of, "well I like this one, and it can also be folded into a much smaller size" type of argument was to be heard, nor was she to be diverted by any topic changing efforts on my part. Eventually I found myself just staring at her, not nodding, or agreeing, or making any kind of movement - just the blank stare, holding out my hand and wishing upon the golden calf of "crap you don't need to buy anyway" idol, that this woman would at some point hand me my receipt. In a clear moment of weakness on her part, she parted with the thin piece of paper, and I was out the door. Next stop Costco where I was harassed by multiple sample givers. At one point I actually found myself being yelled at because I would not take the dried blueberries, "BUT THEIR GOOD FOR YOOOOUUU!" he yelled as I bobbed and weaved my way through the monster mother carts. All in all I came out of Costco unscathed, mostly because they did not have the item I was needing to purchase and so I left quickly, with only a slight detour to buy a soda (You know, s-o-d-a, that evil thing that is killing all of America? I stopped for one. Because clearly I have a death wish.) Death drink in hand, I drove to the grocery store - picked up necessary item that Costco had been lacking in, and then made a quick (or what I had anticipated to be quick) stop at the bank to deposit some checks. As the teller is typing in who knows what she looks up at me and says, "Well - I can't deposit this one." pointing to one of the checks, "because they didn't finish putting in the date," I look, and what I see is this: 5/28/0_ and then an indiscernible next number that could have been interpreted as either another zero if we were still in the year 2000 OR as an 8 as any sane person would have assumed considering that it is unlikely that I've kept this $60.00 check for eight damn years. I look at the check, look at her and say, "Looks like an eight to me." She replies, "Well I can put it through, but if it's declined you will be charged a $31.00 fee." I smiled and thought, "No. That's fine. I'll just frame it and hope that one day it looks more like an eight." So after she deposited one of my checks I left, walked straight over to the ATM, fixed my indiscernible date issue, and deposited the check there. The whole time thinking - "They've got a serious flaw in their system here...". 

After my bank encounter I decided that I had clearly had it with customer service for the day and thought it best to just head home. Errand running ended. But for kicks and giggles I decided to get a little bit of gas because I couldn't think of a better way to spend that thirty bucks. I mean, except for giving it to that bank lady. 

I hadn't taken but two steps into our house when I realized that I hadn't taken the crap to be returned stuff with me when I ventured into the Saturday world this morning. Luckly me. Looks like I've saved something special to do later in the afternoon. Maybe I'll reward myself with a second death drink. Or perhaps with the destroyer of all elementry school children everywhere - the cupcake.

Lightning McQueen

Gwen Scout, my beautiful niece and super cool kid, spent four days with her Gamma & Gampa and they did a lot of crazy things. My parent's house is a little bit like child heaven - trains, tents, tunnels, orange trees, berry bushes, swimming pools, watermelon popsicles & toys, toys everywhere.

Gampa however is so cool because he owns Lightning McQueen, and lets her drive it! Who knew that Gampa drove a real Lightning McQueen?!? Gampa really is the coolest. Uncle Naan and Aunt Joojie are counting down the days until she comes to visit. It's nice of her to visit us, even though we don't drive race cars.

Oregano

Summertime Dinner

Start eating 5:45p. Marinated & grilled chicken. Bread toasted on the grill with a white bean, garlic & oregano dip. Baby Bree & strawberries, two bottles of wine, salad & couscous. Espresso & ice cream. Walking back into the house, arms piled high with dishes only to realize that it is 11:00p. This is why we wait all year for dinner in the garden.

I apologize that the only photos happened after all of the food had been devoured - but when your hands and chin are dripping with olive oil and juice from a strawberry - it's not exactly at the forefront of your mind to take a photograph. I'm sure you understand.

Yes. Our house is magical.

Quintessential Summer Vacation Sunglasses? Check.

California. Chicago. New York. Yea, these'll work.  

The Reaction.

You don't have to study tomorrow.

What?!?

Summer Time

"And now," cried Max, "let the wild rumpus start!"

It was starting to become funny...

I have been officially accepted to the University of Colorado at Denver.

so close. so. very. close.

12 May 2008, 4:00p it will all be over. 

This morning I strung the lights in the trees in our garden and it's starting to feel like summer. This is going to be the longest week of my l-i-f-e. Drama, I know but - deal. 

George McCraw & Hampton Dunn - Grandpas We Miss.

The Writing

My sister in law is convinced that I should major in something to do with writing. Like creative writing. Each day she says this to me. Each day I make the scrunchie, yuck face.

"They" say that my writing is humorous and honest. To me it seems honestly boring, "Have you read my boring post? The one that slowly meanders it's way through the paragraph as if it walked in with purpose and then couldn't quite remember what it was and found itself opening the microwave to put the milk away?". My writing has no direction much like my life has no direction. Direction-less. Well more like direction-void, because my writing does not have less direction that it used to, it just had no direction from the get go. My writing seems self indulgent at best and ridiculous most of the time. Maybe heartfelt, but heartfelt wanderings and indulgent musings are still crappy writing, even if you did really feel it. "This funny antidote is really from my heart," well great, but it's still a terrible read. A muddled merry-go-round. If I wait until there is something "meaningful" or productive or finished or hell good to write about there would be nothing here. When is it good enough? Oh probably never. Not competitive - just... Everyone is a writer and everyone is a guitar player - well... Many shouldn't write, and most shouldn't play. Here's the thing, I'm not even totally interested in me. At best I find myself mildly amusing & unnecessarily sarcastic - but a "good read". Humm. I don't know about that. Perhaps I am gifted beyond reason - too easily able to laugh at myself and therefore my writing is sub par because I'm okay to laugh it off and say, "Well I never said I was a writer!" There's the "they" that say that you can hear my inflection and my voice through my writing - but here's the deal, can a stranger hear it? Someone who's never met me? It's debatable - and leaning far to the no side. One slightly humorous sentence amidst a sea of barf-o, does not good writing make. So do I confine myself to only future posts of superb writing? No - because then there would be no more posts. But I do wish for it to be more. Or if not more, let's at least try for less bad. Funny tone cannot cover up bad, wandering writing. 

 

New York Train Trip

Quintessential sunglasses have been purchased. Pictured soon. 

our house

Herbs Revisited

Anxiously awaiting the end of the semester ... When summer comes it will bring with it baseball games and dinner in the garden.

In hopes of fooling mother nature I planted Thyme, Lemon Thyme, Chives, Sage and Lavender (& not pictured - Kale, Cilantro, Dill & Swiss Chard).

It's supposed to snow tomorrow. "80 today, snow tomorrow. Stay tuned for the details at 8:00!" [It's crap like that on the news that makes me hate local news, because they say it with such enthusiasm and glee, makes you want to throw your coffee at them, except for then you wouldn't have coffee and they would still be sitting there with their crazed smiles. I call one of our local news persons Beaker (like from the Muppets) he is my least favorite, not the Muppet, but the news man. And yes, the news man does look like Beaker. Great look for a Muppet - bad look for anything non-Muppet. Local news people always just say the cheesiest, lamest, make-you-want-to-vomit nonsense. "Grab your shades!" Another of their horrible sayings. "It's sunny out there - grab your shades!" We have something like 350 days of sunshine here, why would I not always be grabbing my shades? Yes, I am also grumpy in the morning and this may have something to do with my less than amiable feelings towards local news. And yes I realize that I don't have to turn it on. But then how would I know to grab my shades?]

...Back to the garden.

Sean's all about the "from seed" way of growing things. I gave it a whirl. It was just dandy - and now I'm done with it. Mostly because our spring is too cold and snowy and the summers are too short, and too hot. Once my stuff was coming up, it was dying. This year I'm all about the instant herb. I could feasibly plant and harvest all in one day. Mind you, not probably the most advisable way to go about it, but I could, which is the point. I should probably mention that I did spend a good 15 minutes covering all of my new "babies" with plastic bags so as to keep them out of the frost-snow-sleet-rain-frozen-ness that is supposed to fall from the sky tomorrow. [According to the lady who wears a lot of hairspray.]

While I was planting my new herbs, Sean just read books about seeds, and how to do... I don't know what to your seeds - sing them songs, and maybe they talk pretty one day. Clearly, this all says a lot about who I am and who he is. Sarcastic vs. patient. Yup, pretty much sums it up.

Daytime TV Beware!

Inside my head, you might hear this phrase on a continuous mind numbing loop, "I can't study like this. There. No. I can't study like this. There. No. I can't study like this!". 

As mentioned before I've got serious skills in the area of procrastination. When I was younger, I hadn't quite honed said skills. Now that I'm above the fray, I would never do something so trivial as watching the tele to avoid homework. It's taken 24 years, but ho, watch out Sally Jessy Raphael! 

The process now looks a bit like this:

1) Collect all books, notes, papers, pens, markers and note cards from the various suspiciously mystifying places they've ended up. Who put my Microbiology notebook under the dining room table, beneath this blanket?????? Oh. Me. 

2) Sit down.

3) Collect myself, take a deep breath. 

4) Open book.

5) Read one sentence.

6) Ooh. I need a drink of water.

7) Sit down, with water. Start again.

8) Ooh. My hair is in my face. I should put it up.

9) Sit down, with water, hair up. Start again. 

10) Ooh. Those baseboards are really dirty. Gross.

11) Clean baseboards. Aaaah. So much better.

12) Water. Hair up. Clean baseboards. Start again.

13) Ooh. I should probably vacuum today. 

14) Water. Hair up. Clean baseboards. Vacuumed house. Start again.

15) Ooh. Too much water. I need to go to the bathroom. Hey! This bathroom is gross... It needs to be cleaned.

16) Water, Hair, Baseboards, Vacuum, Visit & Clean bathroom. Start again.

17) Whew. Man, I'm kinda hungry.

18) Make lunch.... notice the dishes that need to be done... 

19) Water, Hair, Baseboards, Vacuum, Bathroom, Dishes. Start again.

20) Look at clock. Man, I've been doing homework for HOURS. I need a break. Probably best to just finish this up tomorrow.

House - so clean during the semester... 

your mother does not work here... to the extreme.

It has been some time since I've witnessed, or noticed something hilariously ridiculous at my "college of choice". I mean I notice many an outlandish and bizarre occurrence there on a daily basis, however - this one, was clearly a golden opportunity. 

I went into the "study lounge" which I had yet to frequent in my three years of attendance. It was alright, didn't smell too bad, was quiet (as the many signs insured me that it would be) and as I was walking towards an unoccupied cubicle, I noticed a sign on the wall. This is what it said word for word. Seriously, I could not have made this up.

"Please pick up any food and trash when you leave. We are trying to decrease the insect and rodent issues in the campus center."  

Ooook. I was not aware that there was an insect and rodent issue - but now this "clean up after yourself" sign has made me PAINFULLY aware that there is.

Add another one to the "Cons" side of the list for this place of higher education...

uh oh ... ten little fingers & ten little toes

due date: 10 December 2008

we are quite excited and anxiously awaiting the new addition to our family. 

addition via my brother & his wife - that's right "Joojie" & "Naan" will be an aunt and uncle again! 

my vague, vague life...

I did not get in.

I might go to Metro.

It is clear that I am not in charge of my life or my existence - and I am thankful for that. [Because clearly I do not know what I'm doing. Sometimes it's like a lab experiment that gas gone awry - the kind where you give a sideways glance at your lab partner and you both make the "oh crap" look ... and then start to try and control the laughter.]

I am tired in my soul.

Clarity is slow at coming in my life...

Sometimes I wonder if Murphy is stalking me.