We were pounded by a storm last night. There was a web of lightning across the sky, and rain lashed the house in curtains. The wind had our trees dancing, tossing their crowns and shedding leaves and branches with the abandon of nymphs shedding clothing at a Bacchanalia. We lost power for just long enough for me to consider calling a friend or two and finding somewhere to stay overnight; we could have managed, but I really don't like sleeping in a humid, un-air-conditioned house in Georgia in the summer - especially when the air was thick enough to breathe with a spoon.
~~~~~
Power goes off, power comes on. Power goes off, power comes on. Off, on, off, on, all evening. Grr. Anyone want to subsidize (and by "subsidize", I mean "pay for") some solar panels and a battery bank? Or at least a generator? Puhleeeeeze?
~~~~~
I just ate fresh, ripe peaches and organic cream for breakfast. Dear Goddess, thank you for simple, wonderful things like fresh, ripe peaches and organic cream. When the first peach tree made the first peach, surely the Universe felt a little shiver of delight at the moment of ripening. Somewhere out there in the vast, star-stippled dark is a race of beings who have no peaches, and though they have great knowledge, wealth, and technology at their disposal, I wouldn't trade places with them right now. Yep, that was a mighty fine peach.
~~~~~
I have new neighbors, and I am old-fashioned enough to want to bring them a welcoming gift. As far as I could tell, it's a fella, his fiance, and two kids who are older than Bird but not old enough to drive. So...banana bread? Cookies? What do I bring them? Any thoughts?
~~~~~
Is it wrong that I actually wondered (for a few minutes this morning) whether I could forgo milk for my family and buy some yarn to crochet instead?? Would it make a difference if I said it was Peruvian wool? And no, Mum, I don't have enough yarn. There's no such thing as enough when it comes to textiles or beads!
~~~~~
If it rains again later, and if there's no lightning, I think I'll take the Evil Genius out to play in it. I bet we can find some good mud puddles if we put our minds to it.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
O! Electra!
O! Electra! Wild eyed, wild haired Goddess of modern living,
From you so many blessings flow!
With your twin hounds Voltage and Amperage
Keeping watch at your heels
You stride with great force through every house
Every business
Lo, even unto the far reaches of the smallest lane!
Your munificence manifests itself at every turn!
O! Electra, your daughter Frigidera does make our foodstuffs good
And with great floes of ice keeps our drinks chilled to perfection!
Incandesce, your son, does brighten the deepest dark of night
And mimics the sun in every room of our homes!
Microwave, demanding only the occasional gift of popcorn or plastic container
Provides us hot meals, snacks and endless amusement
From the currents of your raging rivers!
AC keeps us comfortable against even the great Global Warming!
Mighty Electra, to you do we make small sacrifices of lightbulbs, toasters
And the occasional blender!
Since 1816 have we known you, O! Electra, and your many wonders!
On days holy to you, when you fly across the sky
Arcing from horizon to horizon
We propitiate you with televisions, stereos
And home computers!
O! And they who deny you, mighty Goddess, are marked
By your own hand
Reaching down from the heavens and striking the offenders
With your terrible wrath
For Electra giveth, and Electra reclaimeth
And the lapsed worshiper finds her good graces
Only with new, shiny appliances!
Even your nemeses Power strip, circuit breaker,
And GFI outlet
Cannot keep you at bay!
O! Electra, why have your forsaken us in this hour of lashing rain
Oppressive heat
And early dark?
How have we offended you, we who have televisions, computers, freezer, refrigerator
And all things of your temple in abundance?
Return! Return!
Return to us the comforts
To which we've become accustomed!
Please? I'll give you a brand new fluorescent light bulb...
From you so many blessings flow!
With your twin hounds Voltage and Amperage
Keeping watch at your heels
You stride with great force through every house
Every business
Lo, even unto the far reaches of the smallest lane!
Your munificence manifests itself at every turn!
O! Electra, your daughter Frigidera does make our foodstuffs good
And with great floes of ice keeps our drinks chilled to perfection!
Incandesce, your son, does brighten the deepest dark of night
And mimics the sun in every room of our homes!
Microwave, demanding only the occasional gift of popcorn or plastic container
Provides us hot meals, snacks and endless amusement
From the currents of your raging rivers!
AC keeps us comfortable against even the great Global Warming!
Mighty Electra, to you do we make small sacrifices of lightbulbs, toasters
And the occasional blender!
Since 1816 have we known you, O! Electra, and your many wonders!
On days holy to you, when you fly across the sky
Arcing from horizon to horizon
We propitiate you with televisions, stereos
And home computers!
O! And they who deny you, mighty Goddess, are marked
By your own hand
Reaching down from the heavens and striking the offenders
With your terrible wrath
For Electra giveth, and Electra reclaimeth
And the lapsed worshiper finds her good graces
Only with new, shiny appliances!
Even your nemeses Power strip, circuit breaker,
And GFI outlet
Cannot keep you at bay!
O! Electra, why have your forsaken us in this hour of lashing rain
Oppressive heat
And early dark?
How have we offended you, we who have televisions, computers, freezer, refrigerator
And all things of your temple in abundance?
Return! Return!
Return to us the comforts
To which we've become accustomed!
Please? I'll give you a brand new fluorescent light bulb...
Monday, July 21, 2008
Stolen Moments
I love my son. He is a brightness in the grey gloom of depression, a constant whirling dervish of joy in my world. His curiosity seems ceaseless, an unending litany of questions followed by confused facts followed by more questions, interspersed with songs full of muddled lyrics sung heartfelt and slightly off-key. He's a crazy quilt, a bundle of love and maddening little-boyness that warms the chill in my heart like nothing else can...and sometimes is a little smothering, a little overwhelming, a little more than I want or need just at the moment.
Every now and then, I find myself looking for bits of time that are for me.
Bits of time that don't include T, or J, or Bird, or cats, or Mum, or friends. For me.
I usually have them in the car, quick dashes to the grocery store or appointments or some other errands, a few minutes listening to the iPod and mumbling to myself, maybe working out plot points in one more story that I'm halfway through writing and will likely never show anyone because I'm embarrassed by them. But I write them anyway, in other stolen moments.
Minutes here and there. Maybe I managed to get up early, or maybe I am staying up beyond late, after the Evil Genius has finally played himself into exhaustion and sleep. That doesn't happen often any more, because no matter when I turn out his lights and kiss him goodnight, he will not sleep unless the whole house is dark and quiet. It's as if he doesn't want to miss a moment of what anyone else is doing. If I'm up, he's awake, and sometimes he's awake if I'm sleeping. If I could harness that energy, I'd never have another power bill.
Right now, I have a few of those moments. The cats are all curled up elsewhere, Bird is in bed, not quite asleep but not quite awake, T is not home from work yet, J is out bowling, and I am free to write, mumble, or go sit out on the front steps and feel the night around me.
The night around me is warm, a little humid, breezy, and thick with promise. It feels like a storm is brewing not too far away. I can smell it, taste it, feel it in my bones. It's a good feeling. I enjoy having it to myself for a little while, the anticipation and content in the darkness. I smell grass, and damp, and a wildness in the wind. Silent flickers of light flash in the far away sky, backlighting the growing clouds.
A few minutes of peace, a few stolen moments out of my regular life.
Back inside, cats want my lap, Bird wants a late night snack, there is e-mail, there are dishes, trash, laundry, constant pulls on my time and energy. I've had my little bit for now, and life won't wait.
I feel displaced again, like I don't belong here in this life, and yet I am content to be here, now, in this moment. This stolen moment.
Every now and then, I find myself looking for bits of time that are for me.
Bits of time that don't include T, or J, or Bird, or cats, or Mum, or friends. For me.
I usually have them in the car, quick dashes to the grocery store or appointments or some other errands, a few minutes listening to the iPod and mumbling to myself, maybe working out plot points in one more story that I'm halfway through writing and will likely never show anyone because I'm embarrassed by them. But I write them anyway, in other stolen moments.
Minutes here and there. Maybe I managed to get up early, or maybe I am staying up beyond late, after the Evil Genius has finally played himself into exhaustion and sleep. That doesn't happen often any more, because no matter when I turn out his lights and kiss him goodnight, he will not sleep unless the whole house is dark and quiet. It's as if he doesn't want to miss a moment of what anyone else is doing. If I'm up, he's awake, and sometimes he's awake if I'm sleeping. If I could harness that energy, I'd never have another power bill.
Right now, I have a few of those moments. The cats are all curled up elsewhere, Bird is in bed, not quite asleep but not quite awake, T is not home from work yet, J is out bowling, and I am free to write, mumble, or go sit out on the front steps and feel the night around me.
The night around me is warm, a little humid, breezy, and thick with promise. It feels like a storm is brewing not too far away. I can smell it, taste it, feel it in my bones. It's a good feeling. I enjoy having it to myself for a little while, the anticipation and content in the darkness. I smell grass, and damp, and a wildness in the wind. Silent flickers of light flash in the far away sky, backlighting the growing clouds.
A few minutes of peace, a few stolen moments out of my regular life.
Back inside, cats want my lap, Bird wants a late night snack, there is e-mail, there are dishes, trash, laundry, constant pulls on my time and energy. I've had my little bit for now, and life won't wait.
I feel displaced again, like I don't belong here in this life, and yet I am content to be here, now, in this moment. This stolen moment.
Pie!
I know, I know, I said I'd post this days ago. I got busy. You'll recover, and it was worth the wait, truly.
Ready for key lime pie? OK, let's get goin'!
First, you need to find your camera. Realize batteries are dead in camera, making photo-blogging impossible. Charge batteries. Fall asleep, wake in the evening, decide pie can wait until tomorrow.
Whew, this cooking can be complicated stuff!
The next morning, go to a bead show with your Mum. Pay special attention to the lack of air-conditioning in the stuffy enclosed space with ultra-bright, ultra-hot spot lighting.
Lunch at the-best-Thai-restaurant-anywhere-and-you-won't-convince-me-otherwise.
Ahem, excuse me, are you finished dilly-dallying?? Because really, I think I've been more than patient, here.
One more thing - make sure to anger the Evil Genius by informing him that he actually has to clean up the mess he made in his own room, and you aren't helping him!
Now we're ready.
The cast:
For the crust:
16 graham Crackers
3 Tbsp sugar
¼ pound butter, melted
For the filling:
3 Tbsp sugar
¼ pound butter, melted
For the filling:
4 large egg yolks
1 14oz can sweetened condensed milk
½ cup key lime juice
2 tsp grated lime peel, green only (skip this bit if you are using bottled juice – it doesn’t hurt the pie to do without)
Whipping cream for garnish
Let's get a move on, people are clamoring for pie! OK, maybe not clamoring, but they do seem to be keen on the idea.
1 14oz can sweetened condensed milk
½ cup key lime juice
2 tsp grated lime peel, green only (skip this bit if you are using bottled juice – it doesn’t hurt the pie to do without)
Whipping cream for garnish
Let's get a move on, people are clamoring for pie! OK, maybe not clamoring, but they do seem to be keen on the idea.
For the crust:
Combine ingredients and press into 9” pie plate. Bake at 350 for 10 – 12 minutes, until lightly brown. Cool.
- OR -
Buy a ready-made crust at the grocery store because...why not?
- OR -
Buy a ready-made crust at the grocery store because...why not?
Guess which one I did.
For the filling:Summon the Evil Genius from his exile in the pit of despair...er...room (which still isn't clean)...and bring light and joy into his life once more by asking him if he'd like to help make a pie. 
Now that all is right with the world, beat the egg yolks until thick and light yellow, but don’t over-beat them - for heaven's sake, don't over-beat them, or you'll have...umm...actually, I have no idea what you'll have because I've never over-beaten them, but I'm sure it'll be a disaster of epic proportions, so just don't do it. OK?
See? Fluffy, yellow, not over-beaten: 
Right, turn off the mixer and add the condensed milk.
Mix on low, adding half the lime juice.
Once the juice is incorporated, add the rest, and the zest (if you're using it, which I haven't yet, but hey, it's your pie).
Mix until blended. Pour into pie shell and bake at 350 for 12 - 15 minutes.
Chill completely, garnish with whipped cream. You know what? I've never garnished mine. It doesn't hang around long enough for garnishment. It didn't even hang around long enough for a photograph! Poor pie - it doesn't stand a chance against the ravenous T and his key-lime-pie-crazed rampages.I need to go clean pie filling off the ceiling, now.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Busy, Busy, Bus...OK, Not So Much
I am, for me, up early today. I was planning on sleeping in, hanging out with the Evil Genius while T worked turns at the track, and makin' pies today.
That's not a euphemism - when I say makin' pies, I mean makin' pies.
Plans change.
Mum called yesterday and wondered if I might like to wreak havoc at a local bead show. I didn't think so, because I thought T would be at the track, and a five-year-old at a bead show? Yeah...not.
Then T informed me that he wouldn't be working turns tomorrow (today) after all. Hmm. Sooo...I can haz bead show?? He said "Sure, why not?" He would hang with the kid for the day.
But wait, there's more. It turns out, our roommate J (some day I'll explain him) has a job to do today, and T was going to go with him. No worries, they say, they'll bring Bird along and let him climb all over the "big truck" (eighteen wheeler) while he does a twenty minute install, then they'll come home.
But wait, there's still more. Yesterday, when T and J got home from their two-day trip around the Southeast, they noticed the sad state of my tires. Not just sad. Pathetic. Depressing. Dangerous. OK, just about worn slap through. No kidding, they were like an old pair of socks that you wear around the house all the time, and you've worn all the fuzz off in places so there's just a few threads holding them together - there were a few places where you could see the stuff under the tread. T about schwitzed when he saw them! When he came inside, he informed me the van was grounded until that was taken care of. Uh, excuse me? I don't think so! I need my van!
But wait, there's...you know. We don't have the money for new tires, so I was planning on patching mine with band-aids or duct tape or something. T and J don't see the humor in that. J decided that I (well, the van) was having new tires and an alignment, and I was having them tomorrow (today)! He made an appointment with The Tire Store to drop the van off this morning. He also decided that I had to have the road hazard plan, which I protested to no avail. Meanwhile, I'm wondering how many sexual favors I'm providing on a street corner to pay for these tires, but J offered to loan us the dosh until we can pay him back. Sweet, huh?
So instead of sleeping late, watching cartoons and makin' pies (yes, really, I do mean makin' pies) and blogging about them, in the course of a few minutes yesterday my Saturday plans were altered to: get up early, dress child, pack bag o' snacks, entertainment, and clothes (always pack extras clothing, even if it's a ten minute trip!) for child, make breakfast to go for child, send T, Evil Genius, and J off with the van to drop it off (J and Bird in J's car because T won't even consider the kid riding in the van until new tires are secured) then go play with a big truck, and get ready for Havoc at the Bead Show!!
Whew. I'm tired. Think I have time for a nap before Mum gets here??
Back later with a recipe for key lime pie.
That's not a euphemism - when I say makin' pies, I mean makin' pies.
Plans change.
Mum called yesterday and wondered if I might like to wreak havoc at a local bead show. I didn't think so, because I thought T would be at the track, and a five-year-old at a bead show? Yeah...not.
Then T informed me that he wouldn't be working turns tomorrow (today) after all. Hmm. Sooo...I can haz bead show?? He said "Sure, why not?" He would hang with the kid for the day.
But wait, there's more. It turns out, our roommate J (some day I'll explain him) has a job to do today, and T was going to go with him. No worries, they say, they'll bring Bird along and let him climb all over the "big truck" (eighteen wheeler) while he does a twenty minute install, then they'll come home.
But wait, there's still more. Yesterday, when T and J got home from their two-day trip around the Southeast, they noticed the sad state of my tires. Not just sad. Pathetic. Depressing. Dangerous. OK, just about worn slap through. No kidding, they were like an old pair of socks that you wear around the house all the time, and you've worn all the fuzz off in places so there's just a few threads holding them together - there were a few places where you could see the stuff under the tread. T about schwitzed when he saw them! When he came inside, he informed me the van was grounded until that was taken care of. Uh, excuse me? I don't think so! I need my van!
But wait, there's...you know. We don't have the money for new tires, so I was planning on patching mine with band-aids or duct tape or something. T and J don't see the humor in that. J decided that I (well, the van) was having new tires and an alignment, and I was having them tomorrow (today)! He made an appointment with The Tire Store to drop the van off this morning. He also decided that I had to have the road hazard plan, which I protested to no avail. Meanwhile, I'm wondering how many sexual favors I'm providing on a street corner to pay for these tires, but J offered to loan us the dosh until we can pay him back. Sweet, huh?
So instead of sleeping late, watching cartoons and makin' pies (yes, really, I do mean makin' pies) and blogging about them, in the course of a few minutes yesterday my Saturday plans were altered to: get up early, dress child, pack bag o' snacks, entertainment, and clothes (always pack extras clothing, even if it's a ten minute trip!) for child, make breakfast to go for child, send T, Evil Genius, and J off with the van to drop it off (J and Bird in J's car because T won't even consider the kid riding in the van until new tires are secured) then go play with a big truck, and get ready for Havoc at the Bead Show!!
Whew. I'm tired. Think I have time for a nap before Mum gets here??
Back later with a recipe for key lime pie.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Southern Living At Its Finest
Sunday evening, I will be serving the following:
Ribeye steaks, fried with butter in a cast iron pan because there's no other way to cook 'em. No, there isn't. Lalalalalalala, I can't hear you!!! Frying steaks in cast iron is the only way to cook 'em and I can't hear you!!!
Salt crusted oven-baked potatoes with butter, freshly shredded cheddar cheese and sour cream on the side.
Broccoli, steamed just until tender, with a hint of garlic.
Homemade key-lime pie.
Homemade sugar-free chocolate pie.
Possibly homemade strawberry shortcakes.
There may also be onion dip, deviled eggs, and crudite for snacking.
*Edit - this in addition to the from-scratch pancake brunch I'll be doing for my sister-in-law and neice mid-morning. Whew.
Why am I serving this? What's the occasion? Wedding? Funeral? Birthday? St. Swithin's Day? Nope.
Brace yourselves.
Wrestling.
Yep. Wrestling. We are ordering pay-per-view wrestling, and are expecting a guest to join us for the festivities.
Yeeehaw, y'all.
'Scuse me, my redneck is showing...
Ribeye steaks, fried with butter in a cast iron pan because there's no other way to cook 'em. No, there isn't. Lalalalalalala, I can't hear you!!! Frying steaks in cast iron is the only way to cook 'em and I can't hear you!!!
Salt crusted oven-baked potatoes with butter, freshly shredded cheddar cheese and sour cream on the side.
Broccoli, steamed just until tender, with a hint of garlic.
Homemade key-lime pie.
Homemade sugar-free chocolate pie.
Possibly homemade strawberry shortcakes.
There may also be onion dip, deviled eggs, and crudite for snacking.
*Edit - this in addition to the from-scratch pancake brunch I'll be doing for my sister-in-law and neice mid-morning. Whew.
Why am I serving this? What's the occasion? Wedding? Funeral? Birthday? St. Swithin's Day? Nope.
Brace yourselves.
Wrestling.
Yep. Wrestling. We are ordering pay-per-view wrestling, and are expecting a guest to join us for the festivities.
Yeeehaw, y'all.
'Scuse me, my redneck is showing...
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Look Out, Fort Knox!
I'm a rebel! A scofflaw!!
Yes, yes I am. I am guilty of hoarding currency. Lots of it. Jealous? Yeah, don't be.
I'm not hoarding it any more. I just spent the last hour rolling coins.
C'mon, it's a Great American Pastime, right?
We have one of those big jugs that seem to nestle in the corners of middle class homes and slowly fill with an assortment of coins, including the occasional foreign visitor that gets buried in the American dream and only resurfaces when the feds (or broke people) seize the coins, fling them to the floor, and contain them in segregated groups; coin gangs roam around looking for new additions while a few lone oddballs huddle in a little pile, wondering where it all went wrong and if there's any sort of currency diplomat who will get them out of this mess.
This evening, we realized that despite T's change in jobs a couple of months ago and the corresponding increase in pay, we were a little short in the bank department. This realization was precipitated by an embarrassing discovery - we used the wrong credit card to pay a bill earlier this week. Not our credit card. Our roommate's. How did we manage that? I'm so glad you asked!
T asked me to pay a bill online by logging on with his name and password and clicking on the already established credit card payment thingie. I did. Now, we don't have credit cards, we have debit cards, and while our cards draw from the same account, they have different numbers on them. I don't know T's number. Hey, give me a break - my poor beleaguered brain can only hold so many digits, and right now it's awash with social security numbers, addresses, phone numbers, passwords, weights, measures, and the odd recipe or two-hundred, so there's no room for debit card numbers that I never use. So I went through the steps to pay the bill and clicked "OK" and felt it a job well done.
That was two days ago. Tonight T logged on and made an "Oh, shit" kind of proclamation, and explained that I'd put the payment through on our roommate's card. Don't ask me why his card was the card of record for our bill...I have no idea. Well, oops. I exclaimed right back "But you told me to! You said I should use the card listed and not worry about typing in mine! You said to!" A touch defensive, me.
He explained to the roommate what we'd done (insert Mencia-like "deet-de-deeeee here) and told him that I would go to the bank and sort it all out with the appropriate shuffling of funds from our account to his. Whee, high finance. Then T looked at our bank account and realized that we'd be short on fund ourselves, when I did that. Aww, dang - we are so close to not being overdrawn at the end of every pay period!
So I offered to dump out the ubiquitous jug-o-coinage and get to rolling. I like rolling coins. Truly. I'll even drive to a friend's house and help them wrap. I find it therapeutic, although why I would is beyond me, since rolling coins usually means one is broke and pillaging the First Bank of Sofa for rogue change to make rent, or the power bill, or a late-night taco run.
The jug is supposed to be one of the ways we're saving for a cruise to Alaska. Yeah, I figure at the rate we're going, our cruise will be sometime in 3026, give or take a month. Oh, well, at least we had the coins to roll - some folks don't even have that.
T feels bad about this, but it happens...and I'd rather roll a few coins (780 to be exact)(yes, I counted)(hello? OCD??) than have to pay overdraft fees every two weeks. Good grief, our overdraft fees are probably paying for some bank president's third ex-wife's botox every month! Well, this month she'll just have to sag, bag, or pucker the way nature intended, because we rolled coins.
I remember helping Mum roll pennies when I was a kid. At the time, I didn't know about bills, rent, and little things like groceries costing money. I thought we were having fun. At least, I was. Mum would let me stack the pennies and she would count them, make that cool little coin roll in her hand, and slide them neatly into the paper wrapper. I got to help fold up the ends and stack the rolls, too. I liked playing with the pennies. I thought they meant we were rich - all those coins scattered across the coffee table sure did look impressive to me. I would build little penny walls, penny pyramids, make penny flowers and penny patterns. Mum would roll and roll. We always sat on the floor, and once in a while I got to chase a feral penny across the floor and bring it back to the fold. We listened to records or reel-to-reel tapes while we worked. My mouth always tasted coppery after the first little while, and the taste lingered for hours after.
Tonight, my son saw me rolling coins and thought it looked fun. He was supposed to be in bed, so I didn't let him help, but it made me think of those long ago days. Is there anyone who hasn't had to roll a few coins at least once in their life? Is there a house that doesn't have a bowl, jug, box, or pickle jar full of change saved for a rainy day? I bet even Bill Gates had to roll dimes once in a while when he was first starting out.
My mouth tastes metallic, like those days. Metallic like someone made pasta sauce or pad Thai in a cast iron pan. Metallic like I rolled 780 coins and then sorted the sad little remains from the jug and segregated them - pennies into Bird's piggy bank, nickels into a Tupperware until I can wash a pickle jar or milk jug for them, dimes into a pickle jar, and quarters back into the jug. The odd dollar, half-dollar, or foreign coins went into a secret stash. Isn't that how one becomes a wealthy miser?
Our coin jug has suffered privations of late because we are able to use debit cards in so many places that once took only cash. I've decided to try and go back to using cash to pay for things - I am much more aware of my spending, that way, and the jug gets fed. Win-win.
So do you have a coin holder? Where do you keep it (no, I'm not planning on pilfering your stash!)? Are you saving for anything in particular, or just in case? Do you sort, or let them mingle?
I have one more thing to do with the wrapped coins . Thanks to jack-assery of the highest order - namely, unscrupulous people's shorting of the rolls by a coin or two - my bank requires me to write my account number on every roll. Eighteen rolls requiring all those digits, written in black ink thank you very much. I'm waiting until morning to do that, though, because right now I really want to brush my teeth and be rid of this funky taste in my mouth. Hmm...there's a Starbucks near the bank...maybe I'll roll a few extra dimes in the morning and get rid of the funk with a mocha frappucinno. It may be the only way. Probably. Absolutely. Right??
Yes, yes I am. I am guilty of hoarding currency. Lots of it. Jealous? Yeah, don't be.
I'm not hoarding it any more. I just spent the last hour rolling coins.
C'mon, it's a Great American Pastime, right?
We have one of those big jugs that seem to nestle in the corners of middle class homes and slowly fill with an assortment of coins, including the occasional foreign visitor that gets buried in the American dream and only resurfaces when the feds (or broke people) seize the coins, fling them to the floor, and contain them in segregated groups; coin gangs roam around looking for new additions while a few lone oddballs huddle in a little pile, wondering where it all went wrong and if there's any sort of currency diplomat who will get them out of this mess.
This evening, we realized that despite T's change in jobs a couple of months ago and the corresponding increase in pay, we were a little short in the bank department. This realization was precipitated by an embarrassing discovery - we used the wrong credit card to pay a bill earlier this week. Not our credit card. Our roommate's. How did we manage that? I'm so glad you asked!
T asked me to pay a bill online by logging on with his name and password and clicking on the already established credit card payment thingie. I did. Now, we don't have credit cards, we have debit cards, and while our cards draw from the same account, they have different numbers on them. I don't know T's number. Hey, give me a break - my poor beleaguered brain can only hold so many digits, and right now it's awash with social security numbers, addresses, phone numbers, passwords, weights, measures, and the odd recipe or two-hundred, so there's no room for debit card numbers that I never use. So I went through the steps to pay the bill and clicked "OK" and felt it a job well done.
That was two days ago. Tonight T logged on and made an "Oh, shit" kind of proclamation, and explained that I'd put the payment through on our roommate's card. Don't ask me why his card was the card of record for our bill...I have no idea. Well, oops. I exclaimed right back "But you told me to! You said I should use the card listed and not worry about typing in mine! You said to!" A touch defensive, me.
He explained to the roommate what we'd done (insert Mencia-like "deet-de-deeeee here) and told him that I would go to the bank and sort it all out with the appropriate shuffling of funds from our account to his. Whee, high finance. Then T looked at our bank account and realized that we'd be short on fund ourselves, when I did that. Aww, dang - we are so close to not being overdrawn at the end of every pay period!
So I offered to dump out the ubiquitous jug-o-coinage and get to rolling. I like rolling coins. Truly. I'll even drive to a friend's house and help them wrap. I find it therapeutic, although why I would is beyond me, since rolling coins usually means one is broke and pillaging the First Bank of Sofa for rogue change to make rent, or the power bill, or a late-night taco run.
The jug is supposed to be one of the ways we're saving for a cruise to Alaska. Yeah, I figure at the rate we're going, our cruise will be sometime in 3026, give or take a month. Oh, well, at least we had the coins to roll - some folks don't even have that.
T feels bad about this, but it happens...and I'd rather roll a few coins (780 to be exact)(yes, I counted)(hello? OCD??) than have to pay overdraft fees every two weeks. Good grief, our overdraft fees are probably paying for some bank president's third ex-wife's botox every month! Well, this month she'll just have to sag, bag, or pucker the way nature intended, because we rolled coins.
I remember helping Mum roll pennies when I was a kid. At the time, I didn't know about bills, rent, and little things like groceries costing money. I thought we were having fun. At least, I was. Mum would let me stack the pennies and she would count them, make that cool little coin roll in her hand, and slide them neatly into the paper wrapper. I got to help fold up the ends and stack the rolls, too. I liked playing with the pennies. I thought they meant we were rich - all those coins scattered across the coffee table sure did look impressive to me. I would build little penny walls, penny pyramids, make penny flowers and penny patterns. Mum would roll and roll. We always sat on the floor, and once in a while I got to chase a feral penny across the floor and bring it back to the fold. We listened to records or reel-to-reel tapes while we worked. My mouth always tasted coppery after the first little while, and the taste lingered for hours after.
Tonight, my son saw me rolling coins and thought it looked fun. He was supposed to be in bed, so I didn't let him help, but it made me think of those long ago days. Is there anyone who hasn't had to roll a few coins at least once in their life? Is there a house that doesn't have a bowl, jug, box, or pickle jar full of change saved for a rainy day? I bet even Bill Gates had to roll dimes once in a while when he was first starting out.
My mouth tastes metallic, like those days. Metallic like someone made pasta sauce or pad Thai in a cast iron pan. Metallic like I rolled 780 coins and then sorted the sad little remains from the jug and segregated them - pennies into Bird's piggy bank, nickels into a Tupperware until I can wash a pickle jar or milk jug for them, dimes into a pickle jar, and quarters back into the jug. The odd dollar, half-dollar, or foreign coins went into a secret stash. Isn't that how one becomes a wealthy miser?
Our coin jug has suffered privations of late because we are able to use debit cards in so many places that once took only cash. I've decided to try and go back to using cash to pay for things - I am much more aware of my spending, that way, and the jug gets fed. Win-win.
So do you have a coin holder? Where do you keep it (no, I'm not planning on pilfering your stash!)? Are you saving for anything in particular, or just in case? Do you sort, or let them mingle?
I have one more thing to do with the wrapped coins . Thanks to jack-assery of the highest order - namely, unscrupulous people's shorting of the rolls by a coin or two - my bank requires me to write my account number on every roll. Eighteen rolls requiring all those digits, written in black ink thank you very much. I'm waiting until morning to do that, though, because right now I really want to brush my teeth and be rid of this funky taste in my mouth. Hmm...there's a Starbucks near the bank...maybe I'll roll a few extra dimes in the morning and get rid of the funk with a mocha frappucinno. It may be the only way. Probably. Absolutely. Right??
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Hey, You, Lay Offa My Fix
I read recently that Starbucks is closing a few hundred stores. I am still hoping they'll open one close to me.
I was recently chastised for drinking Starbucks. Whatever.
I like Starbucks. I don't turn my nose up at local coffee shops - I give them every chance not to suck. I think I must have some bad luck with local shops, because for all my travels, for all the little shops I've stopped in hoping for a caffeine fix or a few minutes off the road in a haven, I haven't met one that I like. Their coffee's weak - no kidding, weak! I know, I know, people call it Charbucks, and sometimes I think they do go a bit dark with their roast, but still...watery coffee is no good. Why bother? I've even asked for a fresh brew and had the same result, and if you want to piss someone off in a hurry, tell them how to brew coffee on their own shop!
So I go to Starbucks. I adore the venti mocha frappuccino with an extra shot. It's my standard on-the-road beverage of choice for waking up and staying wired. Sometimes I get two shots - and once, at a West Virginia store, I was offered a third shot because they'd brewed one too many and didn't want to waste it...and I think I looked like I needed it. Woo-hoo! Sleep? Who needs that?
The funny thing is, I'm not really a coffee drinker. If I'm going to drink anything but water, I prefer tea. At home. Brewed properly. Still, every now and then I want coffee. Cold, sweet, fattening, death in a cup. To go.
One of the things I like about Starbucks is their predictability - no matter where I go in the world, no matter the nation, the culture, the language, if I order a venti mocha frappucino with whip and an extra shot, I know what I am getting. There's no mystery, no hoping that it'll be something like what I want. Mind you, I am always game for trying out local fare, and often enjoy it, but you know...sometimes you get a craving, want a taste of home, no little surprises. At least, I do.
Contrary to what the most recent young man to harass me was claiming, the company DOES have a conscience, DOES try to be green, and DOES purchase organic and fair trade beans. They are NOT the Evil Empire of coffee!
And please don't lecture me on the evils of my chosen addiction when you're sucking on a cigarette, because I will be forced to beat you about the head and neck with a large, offensive salami if you do.
At home, I actually prefer Newman's Own beans, fair trade and organic. I like to grind them and brew using a French press. My coffee, I've been told, is powerful stuff. My friend S even has to cut it with cream and sugar, and she's used to naval coffee!
I still can't make a frappuccino, though, and sometimes that's the only thing that'll do.
Let me drink my Starbucks in peace and I won't point out that your shoes were made in a sweatshop, your hair dye contains deadly chemicals that wash into the ecosystem every time you bathe, you sweatshirt is knit on a machine using synthetic materials, and your iPod won't ever decompose...ever!
I'm happy to have friends who feel the same way - we meet at a local store, drink our foofy drinks and work on art or craft projects, happy to have a little time away from our regular lives. Sometimes we nibble a pastry, and sometimes the Starbucks employees cheerfully look on at what we're doing and offer opinions regarding style, color, or whatever we may ask them about.
Starbucks makes me happy. You want me happy. Really, you do. So lay offa my fix, OK??
I was recently chastised for drinking Starbucks. Whatever.
I like Starbucks. I don't turn my nose up at local coffee shops - I give them every chance not to suck. I think I must have some bad luck with local shops, because for all my travels, for all the little shops I've stopped in hoping for a caffeine fix or a few minutes off the road in a haven, I haven't met one that I like. Their coffee's weak - no kidding, weak! I know, I know, people call it Charbucks, and sometimes I think they do go a bit dark with their roast, but still...watery coffee is no good. Why bother? I've even asked for a fresh brew and had the same result, and if you want to piss someone off in a hurry, tell them how to brew coffee on their own shop!
So I go to Starbucks. I adore the venti mocha frappuccino with an extra shot. It's my standard on-the-road beverage of choice for waking up and staying wired. Sometimes I get two shots - and once, at a West Virginia store, I was offered a third shot because they'd brewed one too many and didn't want to waste it...and I think I looked like I needed it. Woo-hoo! Sleep? Who needs that?
The funny thing is, I'm not really a coffee drinker. If I'm going to drink anything but water, I prefer tea. At home. Brewed properly. Still, every now and then I want coffee. Cold, sweet, fattening, death in a cup. To go.
One of the things I like about Starbucks is their predictability - no matter where I go in the world, no matter the nation, the culture, the language, if I order a venti mocha frappucino with whip and an extra shot, I know what I am getting. There's no mystery, no hoping that it'll be something like what I want. Mind you, I am always game for trying out local fare, and often enjoy it, but you know...sometimes you get a craving, want a taste of home, no little surprises. At least, I do.
Contrary to what the most recent young man to harass me was claiming, the company DOES have a conscience, DOES try to be green, and DOES purchase organic and fair trade beans. They are NOT the Evil Empire of coffee!
And please don't lecture me on the evils of my chosen addiction when you're sucking on a cigarette, because I will be forced to beat you about the head and neck with a large, offensive salami if you do.
At home, I actually prefer Newman's Own beans, fair trade and organic. I like to grind them and brew using a French press. My coffee, I've been told, is powerful stuff. My friend S even has to cut it with cream and sugar, and she's used to naval coffee!
I still can't make a frappuccino, though, and sometimes that's the only thing that'll do.
Let me drink my Starbucks in peace and I won't point out that your shoes were made in a sweatshop, your hair dye contains deadly chemicals that wash into the ecosystem every time you bathe, you sweatshirt is knit on a machine using synthetic materials, and your iPod won't ever decompose...ever!
I'm happy to have friends who feel the same way - we meet at a local store, drink our foofy drinks and work on art or craft projects, happy to have a little time away from our regular lives. Sometimes we nibble a pastry, and sometimes the Starbucks employees cheerfully look on at what we're doing and offer opinions regarding style, color, or whatever we may ask them about.
Starbucks makes me happy. You want me happy. Really, you do. So lay offa my fix, OK??
Monday, July 14, 2008
With A Song
There are worse ways to wake up.
Let's go back a little. Yesterday, we went to the gym for a swim. While T and Bird played in the family pool - corkscrew water slide, floating beasts to clamber onto and slither down from, a post and tube contraption that makes curtains of falling water, and two large squirt canons - I swam laps.
Slowly.
There's a reason they call it the "crawl".
I had to alternate strokes, because I'm not fit enough to do lap after lap with one style - my arms won't take it, yet. I managed fifteen laps all told, mostly in a row. Mostly. I did take a few (a hundred is a few, right?) treading-water breaks.
J joined me twelve laps in, so I did a few more with him, then we all adjourned to the open half of the pool for a rousing game of water volleyball.
Two hours in the water. We all smelled of chlorine and looked like prunes when we got out, but it was a fine afternoon.
I fell asleep when we got home - not enough sleep ( and that poor quality) for weeks plus a long swim equals one tired me.
T cooked dinner, bless his heart - luckily we had a can of Manwich in the cupboard. Hush. It's good to have something on hand that the menfolk can cook (and are willing to eat), besides hot dogs or tinned ravioli. We all went to bed early, worn slap out.
This morning, Bird woke up fist, and rather than run in and wake us, he wandered into the living room and began to play with his cars. He has many. He was racing them around the floor, singing.
That's what I woke up to - singing. He was singing Real Gone from the movie Cars. Oh, yeah. I'm such a proud mama - my son sings redneck, country songs for fun! It's not quite Honkytonk Badonkadonk, which was his preferred when he was three, but it's still funny to hear him - especially when he doesn't quite know all the words, so he wings it.
Yep, worse ways to wake up than with a song.
Let's go back a little. Yesterday, we went to the gym for a swim. While T and Bird played in the family pool - corkscrew water slide, floating beasts to clamber onto and slither down from, a post and tube contraption that makes curtains of falling water, and two large squirt canons - I swam laps.
Slowly.
There's a reason they call it the "crawl".
I had to alternate strokes, because I'm not fit enough to do lap after lap with one style - my arms won't take it, yet. I managed fifteen laps all told, mostly in a row. Mostly. I did take a few (a hundred is a few, right?) treading-water breaks.
J joined me twelve laps in, so I did a few more with him, then we all adjourned to the open half of the pool for a rousing game of water volleyball.
Two hours in the water. We all smelled of chlorine and looked like prunes when we got out, but it was a fine afternoon.
I fell asleep when we got home - not enough sleep ( and that poor quality) for weeks plus a long swim equals one tired me.
T cooked dinner, bless his heart - luckily we had a can of Manwich in the cupboard. Hush. It's good to have something on hand that the menfolk can cook (and are willing to eat), besides hot dogs or tinned ravioli. We all went to bed early, worn slap out.
This morning, Bird woke up fist, and rather than run in and wake us, he wandered into the living room and began to play with his cars. He has many. He was racing them around the floor, singing.
That's what I woke up to - singing. He was singing Real Gone from the movie Cars. Oh, yeah. I'm such a proud mama - my son sings redneck, country songs for fun! It's not quite Honkytonk Badonkadonk, which was his preferred when he was three, but it's still funny to hear him - especially when he doesn't quite know all the words, so he wings it.
Yep, worse ways to wake up than with a song.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Thank You, Professor Farnsworth
"Good news! Your roof has hail damage!..."
That's a lovely way to open a letter, no? No.
It is from one of our neighbors, who just happens to own a roofing business. We've had a hail storm or two lately (I'm not complaining - precipitation is precipitation, and every drop helps), and a roof or two may have been damaged as a result.
We don't have a leak - I'm constantly checking, because I am aware that hail can rearrange a roof quite nicely. Our roof is a little old and should probably be replaced in the next year or three, but it doesn't look any rougher than it was before - there are no shingles littering our yard, no tell-tale dark places where something has been relocated or removed by weather, no moist (that one's for you, Aunt Becky) spots on the ceiling or walls acting as harbingers of doom, or at least harbingers of the need for a new roof.
I haven't noticed anyone up there inspecting the surface, and given that our roof's three stories up and 1) inaccessible without a ladder or mad levitation skillz, 2) calls for a serious lack of acrophobia, 3) would result in a fair amount of larger-than-a-squirrel thumping unless the person is as stealthy as a Ninja (doubtful if they're being sensible and wearing work boots, because who goes up on a roof in Crocs or thos little Ninja slippers?), and 4) I'm home all the time, that's not the kind of thing I'd miss...is it? No one had recently been in the yard gazing upward with dollar signs in their eyes, either - I would notice that, because Bird announces visitors to Casa de Crazy with the enthusiasm a recently constipated octogenarian announces their latest bowel movement (no angry responses from octogenarians, constipated or otherwise, please - I can't read all that chicken scratch!) - seriously, he's better than an alarm!
I am guessing that the entire neighborhood got one of these cheerful letters.
I don't mind that someone is being proactive, looking for business, making ends meet - it's the opening of the letter that struck me: "Good news..."
Yeah, if you're a roofer!
That's a lovely way to open a letter, no? No.
It is from one of our neighbors, who just happens to own a roofing business. We've had a hail storm or two lately (I'm not complaining - precipitation is precipitation, and every drop helps), and a roof or two may have been damaged as a result.
We don't have a leak - I'm constantly checking, because I am aware that hail can rearrange a roof quite nicely. Our roof is a little old and should probably be replaced in the next year or three, but it doesn't look any rougher than it was before - there are no shingles littering our yard, no tell-tale dark places where something has been relocated or removed by weather, no moist (that one's for you, Aunt Becky) spots on the ceiling or walls acting as harbingers of doom, or at least harbingers of the need for a new roof.
I haven't noticed anyone up there inspecting the surface, and given that our roof's three stories up and 1) inaccessible without a ladder or mad levitation skillz, 2) calls for a serious lack of acrophobia, 3) would result in a fair amount of larger-than-a-squirrel thumping unless the person is as stealthy as a Ninja (doubtful if they're being sensible and wearing work boots, because who goes up on a roof in Crocs or thos little Ninja slippers?), and 4) I'm home all the time, that's not the kind of thing I'd miss...is it? No one had recently been in the yard gazing upward with dollar signs in their eyes, either - I would notice that, because Bird announces visitors to Casa de Crazy with the enthusiasm a recently constipated octogenarian announces their latest bowel movement (no angry responses from octogenarians, constipated or otherwise, please - I can't read all that chicken scratch!) - seriously, he's better than an alarm!
I am guessing that the entire neighborhood got one of these cheerful letters.
I don't mind that someone is being proactive, looking for business, making ends meet - it's the opening of the letter that struck me: "Good news..."
Yeah, if you're a roofer!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Mother of the Year
How to feel like a complete shit-heel in 3 easy steps:
1. Call someone one the phone and start a long conversation.
2. When young child excitedly scampers into room calling out "Mommy! Mommy!! Mommy!!!" snap "WHAT!?!?"
3. Feel like a shit-heel when he replies in a tiny voice "I just wanted to tell you I love you..."
And then...
Tell the person you're on the phone with what just happen, using the phrase "shit-heel" and wait for it. Small child will laugh and say "shit-heel, that's funny", and then you get to give him the "You don't get to say shit-heel, shit-heel is a grown-up word and you haven't earned it yet, so don't say shit-heel, OK?" lecture, after which you may proclaim your parenting superiority in expanding your child's vocabulary one expletive at a time.
I'll be waiting for my check from the Nobel Committee on parenting. The Peace Prize can't be far behind.
1. Call someone one the phone and start a long conversation.
2. When young child excitedly scampers into room calling out "Mommy! Mommy!! Mommy!!!" snap "WHAT!?!?"
3. Feel like a shit-heel when he replies in a tiny voice "I just wanted to tell you I love you..."
And then...
Tell the person you're on the phone with what just happen, using the phrase "shit-heel" and wait for it. Small child will laugh and say "shit-heel, that's funny", and then you get to give him the "You don't get to say shit-heel, shit-heel is a grown-up word and you haven't earned it yet, so don't say shit-heel, OK?" lecture, after which you may proclaim your parenting superiority in expanding your child's vocabulary one expletive at a time.
I'll be waiting for my check from the Nobel Committee on parenting. The Peace Prize can't be far behind.
A Compliment
I was paid a high compliment while in Ohio. We were vending next to a couple from Pennsylvania who make and sell stained glass, among other things. We know each other fairly well and get along swimmingly, and we've been setting up beside each other for years.
One day, because I was feeling both bored and insecure, I toted my latest art/craft thing over to them - the notecards I've been making (by hand) from some of my photographs.
They were quite positive in their comments until they came to one particular image - then they stopped and both insisted I should enter it into a contest, that it was as good as or better than many professional shots they'd seen. High praise! He even said he'd love a blow-up of the print, so I got his address and I'm going to enlarge it, mat it, and mail it...hopefully before next June!
Sometimes a body just needs to have that little affirmation that they don't suck.
One day, because I was feeling both bored and insecure, I toted my latest art/craft thing over to them - the notecards I've been making (by hand) from some of my photographs.
They were quite positive in their comments until they came to one particular image - then they stopped and both insisted I should enter it into a contest, that it was as good as or better than many professional shots they'd seen. High praise! He even said he'd love a blow-up of the print, so I got his address and I'm going to enlarge it, mat it, and mail it...hopefully before next June!
Sometimes a body just needs to have that little affirmation that they don't suck.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Genius! Genius, I say!
I just saw a little blurb about Safetytats on Because I said So. Holy crap, that's genius!!
Way better that stapling a business car to my kid's forehead or duct-taping him to me. I may actually have to cough up some dough and order a few.
Way better that stapling a business car to my kid's forehead or duct-taping him to me. I may actually have to cough up some dough and order a few.
Keep Your Hands and Arms Inside of the Ride at All Times
If I've seemed a touch off-kilter to you lately, well...I am. I mean, more than my regular off-kilteredness. What? Did I make up another word? Oh, well - you'll get used to that.
I'm not getting enough sleep (bitch, bitch, bitch) - between the mattress giving up on the whole idea of support, reading or writing until all hours of the night, the Evil Genius' insistence that he must eat more than once or twice a week, and the relentless barrage of phone calls from bill collectors (Excuse me, the bill was due yesterday. For cryin' out loud, ease up a little!)(Why don't bills ever come due in sync with payday?? It's a conspiracy, I tells ya!), computers desiring my vote and calling day and night to tell me about it, and cats who think they ought to be in possession of the bed during daylight hours, I'm getting maybe four hours a night. If that. Oh, and there's also the insomnia, that queer state of "I'm exhausted but I just can't sleep" that occasionally comes to call and then claims squatter's rights.
Lack of sleep makes for more than the usual crazy. Just ask the mother of a newborn.
Lose enough sleep you get into sleep debt, and eventually sleep bankruptcy, wherein a sheep frowns at you and grills you on why you can't meet your sleep responsibilities and lectures you on sound slumber practices and...umm...
Wait, where was I? For that matter, where am I?
Lack of sleep makes my brain funny. Funnier, I mean. I get loopy and grumpy, I get hot and cold, I'm not hungry but I want to eat constantly, I am at once impatient and slow to grasp simple things, and Starbuck's is my friend!! Aren't they?
Small things irritate the crap out of me, and I am more prone to thoughts of violent response to the irritation.
I also tend to drop my basket more. Isn't that a nice little euphemism? "Drop my basket" sounds so much nicer than "Lose my shit" or "Get nuttier that squirrel poo", I think. The OCD lurks in readiness for these occasions, happy for its chance to shine.
In short (too late), I am not fit company for anyone.
T isn't stupid - he knows that here there be dragons. There's no charting these waters, because they're different every time we sail through them. Mostly, I think he tries to lay low and go unnoticed until the danger's past. Hah!
Last night, he valiantly tried to right the mattress trouble by placing an old pillow under the worst saggy part. Bless his heart. He also tried to assuage the grumpy bitch in the bed with talk of using the next tax refund (yeah, we plan waaaayyyy ahead around here)(we have to - the only way we can buy big ticket items is to wait for the refund)(we suck) to purchase a mattress set from Hampton Inns (if you don't know their new beds, you really should get acquainted) instead of trying to take a vacation (we were thinking of going on a family cruise). Sweet, huh?
Can we make it until February? Stay tuned - it's bound to get interesting!
I'm not getting enough sleep (bitch, bitch, bitch) - between the mattress giving up on the whole idea of support, reading or writing until all hours of the night, the Evil Genius' insistence that he must eat more than once or twice a week, and the relentless barrage of phone calls from bill collectors (Excuse me, the bill was due yesterday. For cryin' out loud, ease up a little!)(Why don't bills ever come due in sync with payday?? It's a conspiracy, I tells ya!), computers desiring my vote and calling day and night to tell me about it, and cats who think they ought to be in possession of the bed during daylight hours, I'm getting maybe four hours a night. If that. Oh, and there's also the insomnia, that queer state of "I'm exhausted but I just can't sleep" that occasionally comes to call and then claims squatter's rights.
Lack of sleep makes for more than the usual crazy. Just ask the mother of a newborn.
Lose enough sleep you get into sleep debt, and eventually sleep bankruptcy, wherein a sheep frowns at you and grills you on why you can't meet your sleep responsibilities and lectures you on sound slumber practices and...umm...
Wait, where was I? For that matter, where am I?
Lack of sleep makes my brain funny. Funnier, I mean. I get loopy and grumpy, I get hot and cold, I'm not hungry but I want to eat constantly, I am at once impatient and slow to grasp simple things, and Starbuck's is my friend!! Aren't they?
Small things irritate the crap out of me, and I am more prone to thoughts of violent response to the irritation.
I also tend to drop my basket more. Isn't that a nice little euphemism? "Drop my basket" sounds so much nicer than "Lose my shit" or "Get nuttier that squirrel poo", I think. The OCD lurks in readiness for these occasions, happy for its chance to shine.
In short (too late), I am not fit company for anyone.
T isn't stupid - he knows that here there be dragons. There's no charting these waters, because they're different every time we sail through them. Mostly, I think he tries to lay low and go unnoticed until the danger's past. Hah!
Last night, he valiantly tried to right the mattress trouble by placing an old pillow under the worst saggy part. Bless his heart. He also tried to assuage the grumpy bitch in the bed with talk of using the next tax refund (yeah, we plan waaaayyyy ahead around here)(we have to - the only way we can buy big ticket items is to wait for the refund)(we suck) to purchase a mattress set from Hampton Inns (if you don't know their new beds, you really should get acquainted) instead of trying to take a vacation (we were thinking of going on a family cruise). Sweet, huh?
Can we make it until February? Stay tuned - it's bound to get interesting!
Yeah Sure, Kid
"Mommy, when I'm one-hundred, can we buy a new house?"
Uhh...OK.
I have no idea where these things come from.
He also informed me that a flood was coming (we recently saw Evan Almighty) and a giant squid was going to swim in the flood and he needed to warn everyone in the state of Georgia about it. Just Georgia - I guess the rest of you can go whistle.
He took the phone book into his room, and his (non-functioning) cell-phone, and started dialing. No kidding.
He told T that he didn't want to sleep in our room with us any more (not that he does that often, maybe twice a year) because the clock annoys him. Both clocks- when I'm in there with him, my clock annoys him, and when T is in there with him, T's clock annoys him.
Uh-huh.
He's OK with hanging out on our bed and watching Spongebob, though. Good to know, that.
"When I'm eighty-six, can I buy a car?" And crash it into a bus full of nuns, probably. He is, after all an EVIL genius. Way to plan ahead, kid.
Uhh...OK.
I have no idea where these things come from.
He also informed me that a flood was coming (we recently saw Evan Almighty) and a giant squid was going to swim in the flood and he needed to warn everyone in the state of Georgia about it. Just Georgia - I guess the rest of you can go whistle.
He took the phone book into his room, and his (non-functioning) cell-phone, and started dialing. No kidding.
He told T that he didn't want to sleep in our room with us any more (not that he does that often, maybe twice a year) because the clock annoys him. Both clocks- when I'm in there with him, my clock annoys him, and when T is in there with him, T's clock annoys him.
Uh-huh.
He's OK with hanging out on our bed and watching Spongebob, though. Good to know, that.
"When I'm eighty-six, can I buy a car?" And crash it into a bus full of nuns, probably. He is, after all an EVIL genius. Way to plan ahead, kid.
Puss, Puss
The venue where PSG is held is a campground adjacent to a farm. The property is, if I recall correctly, a cooperative or planned community. It was once a strip mine and was purchased by the owners with the intent to return the land to something resembling its natural state. Most of it is a wildlife sanctuary, with only a tiny portion open to visitors.
There are no flush toilets and only one place to shower - the shower house near the gate at the entrance to the site.
Thank goodness, they rebuilt the shower house in recent years, because it was starting to get truly horrible in the old one, and on more then one occasion I wondered of I really needed to wash with something other than baby wipes that week.
This year, I had a visitor with me in the shower house during one of my sojourns there - a kitty! He was hanging around the door, and we commenced to meowing at each other, and he decided I would do, for a human. He was fluffy, part Maine Coon, black and white. His name, I later learned, is Oreo, and he was a sweetie.
I had occasion to speak with one of the land owners, and she expressed concern about Oreo - seems he's such a darling that she's worried someone will take him home one day. He isn't collared or tagged, and he's very friendly. I figured he wasn't a stray because he was obviously well fed and combed often...and she seems reassured by that.
In contrast to the happy experience with Oreo, we had a rough day mid-week. Mum's last cat, Water, died while we were away. Water was boarded at the vet's, and she went into congestive heart failure. The vet called T, who called my phone...and the call actually made it through. There is almost no cell service at this site, so it was astonishing to hear the phone ring and carry on a conversation. Poor Mum - she had to come home and burry her cat, and while she was sad about the dear old thing's demise, she was also feeling a load of guilt because she was a little relieved - no more cats to worry about when she's away at the lapidary school or visiting friends and family. I understand all those feelings.
When I got home, my own three girls wouldn't let me out of their sight for several days, and are still prone to piling onto me if I sit still for more than a minute. I missed them, too.
Mum can always come get her kitty fix here - they love to nest with her, probably because she doesn't kick them into next week when she rolls over (I don't do it on purpose - and you'd think they'd learn not to go to sleep near my feet!).
There are no flush toilets and only one place to shower - the shower house near the gate at the entrance to the site.
Thank goodness, they rebuilt the shower house in recent years, because it was starting to get truly horrible in the old one, and on more then one occasion I wondered of I really needed to wash with something other than baby wipes that week.
This year, I had a visitor with me in the shower house during one of my sojourns there - a kitty! He was hanging around the door, and we commenced to meowing at each other, and he decided I would do, for a human. He was fluffy, part Maine Coon, black and white. His name, I later learned, is Oreo, and he was a sweetie.
I had occasion to speak with one of the land owners, and she expressed concern about Oreo - seems he's such a darling that she's worried someone will take him home one day. He isn't collared or tagged, and he's very friendly. I figured he wasn't a stray because he was obviously well fed and combed often...and she seems reassured by that.
In contrast to the happy experience with Oreo, we had a rough day mid-week. Mum's last cat, Water, died while we were away. Water was boarded at the vet's, and she went into congestive heart failure. The vet called T, who called my phone...and the call actually made it through. There is almost no cell service at this site, so it was astonishing to hear the phone ring and carry on a conversation. Poor Mum - she had to come home and burry her cat, and while she was sad about the dear old thing's demise, she was also feeling a load of guilt because she was a little relieved - no more cats to worry about when she's away at the lapidary school or visiting friends and family. I understand all those feelings.
When I got home, my own three girls wouldn't let me out of their sight for several days, and are still prone to piling onto me if I sit still for more than a minute. I missed them, too.
Mum can always come get her kitty fix here - they love to nest with her, probably because she doesn't kick them into next week when she rolls over (I don't do it on purpose - and you'd think they'd learn not to go to sleep near my feet!).
Aaargh!
WTF is Fanbox and why do I keep getting e-mails from it telling me people want to be my adoring fan?? People I don't know, no less!! And then there's Fanbox Notes, which is trying to convince me that people I don't know want to ask me questions.
And don't get me started on the instant messages claiming that complete strangers have a crush on me, but I only get to know who if I click a link and play some sort of game. Grrr.
I also recently got one of those "Hi there, I am a foreign national trying to smuggle untold fortunes out of my country and if you'll give me your bank account number and passwords, I'll gladly share my millions with you..." e-mails, and this one claimed to be from a US soldier!! Despicable! I laugh off the ones from people claiming to be widows of Kuwaiti diplomats trying to get money out of the country, but this? Claiming to be one of our soldiers risking his life overseas? Oh Hell to the no! This one? I'm reporting to the FBI.
Does this happen to you? Or am I some kind of freak magnet??
And don't get me started on the instant messages claiming that complete strangers have a crush on me, but I only get to know who if I click a link and play some sort of game. Grrr.
I also recently got one of those "Hi there, I am a foreign national trying to smuggle untold fortunes out of my country and if you'll give me your bank account number and passwords, I'll gladly share my millions with you..." e-mails, and this one claimed to be from a US soldier!! Despicable! I laugh off the ones from people claiming to be widows of Kuwaiti diplomats trying to get money out of the country, but this? Claiming to be one of our soldiers risking his life overseas? Oh Hell to the no! This one? I'm reporting to the FBI.
Does this happen to you? Or am I some kind of freak magnet??
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
F-I-N-E, Fine
When someone asks how you're doing, you usually answer "fine", right?
I am often not fine, but it's easier to say so than to get into why things aren't just wonderful for the millionth day in a row. Although I never ask if I don't really want to know, I am aware that many others ask how one is doing as a matter of courtesy and expect a quick, polite answer in return.
A few years ago (OK, more than a decade), a friend I'll call Aunt Mayfaire (because that's what I called him back then)(yes, him)(he was perhaps the funniest drag queen I've ever known)(which would be of three, total) taught me one of the most useful tools I've ever had for answering the question "So how are you today?".
It's the dysfunctional definition of fine. Fucked-up, Insecure, Neurotic and Erratic. F-I-N-E, fine. Heh.
So now I can answer honestly, whether I'm having a good day or not, and so can you. Those of us in the know might even ask if you're "fine" or F-I-N-E, fine".
I am often not fine, but it's easier to say so than to get into why things aren't just wonderful for the millionth day in a row. Although I never ask if I don't really want to know, I am aware that many others ask how one is doing as a matter of courtesy and expect a quick, polite answer in return.
A few years ago (OK, more than a decade), a friend I'll call Aunt Mayfaire (because that's what I called him back then)(yes, him)(he was perhaps the funniest drag queen I've ever known)(which would be of three, total) taught me one of the most useful tools I've ever had for answering the question "So how are you today?".
It's the dysfunctional definition of fine. Fucked-up, Insecure, Neurotic and Erratic. F-I-N-E, fine. Heh.
So now I can answer honestly, whether I'm having a good day or not, and so can you. Those of us in the know might even ask if you're "fine" or F-I-N-E, fine".
Insomnia
Insomnia sucks. You don't appreciate the simple pleasure of sleep until it wriggles from your grasp and mocks you with the deep, peaceful rest of everyone in the house - cats included - but you.
It would help if my mattress wasn't completely worthless at this point, and if I had a hope of a new one soon. It is, and I don't, dang it.
I would like to get some sleep, Universe, if you please. Even if you don't please. Something more than an hour or two punctuated with back pains, neck pains, and the occasional crazed-kitty perforation of my skin. Also, I'd like some sleep because despite TiVo and nine-million channels on the TV, I can't find anything to watch, I've read all my usual blogs twice, and my eyes are all wiggy so I can't play games on Bob the Wonder Computer...plus, he's overheating and I think I burned my knee holding him. Sigh.
I'm going to the gym tomorrow (or would that be later today??) and walking until the treadmill begs for mercy, and then maybe I'll get a bit of zzzzzzzzz...ssknnxxxxx...zzzzz...
It would help if my mattress wasn't completely worthless at this point, and if I had a hope of a new one soon. It is, and I don't, dang it.
I would like to get some sleep, Universe, if you please. Even if you don't please. Something more than an hour or two punctuated with back pains, neck pains, and the occasional crazed-kitty perforation of my skin. Also, I'd like some sleep because despite TiVo and nine-million channels on the TV, I can't find anything to watch, I've read all my usual blogs twice, and my eyes are all wiggy so I can't play games on Bob the Wonder Computer...plus, he's overheating and I think I burned my knee holding him. Sigh.
I'm going to the gym tomorrow (or would that be later today??) and walking until the treadmill begs for mercy, and then maybe I'll get a bit of zzzzzzzzz...ssknnxxxxx...zzzzz...
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Hmm.
Remember when I wrote about my frustration with those recorded political phone calls? No? Well, it seems the politicians aren't reading my blog, either.
In just this week, I've had three calls from computers desperate for my vote. It must be the computers that want the vote, because it's never humans who call. I've seen Terminator Two, and I know what happens when you give computers all the power. I'm not falling for it - if a computer calls, I am carefully taking down the name and letting the person know I'm on to them and their machine masters, and they aren't getting my vote.
How long before the men in white coats come calling, do you think??
In just this week, I've had three calls from computers desperate for my vote. It must be the computers that want the vote, because it's never humans who call. I've seen Terminator Two, and I know what happens when you give computers all the power. I'm not falling for it - if a computer calls, I am carefully taking down the name and letting the person know I'm on to them and their machine masters, and they aren't getting my vote.
How long before the men in white coats come calling, do you think??
Hearth Fires
During the Ohio event (PSG) there are a number of spiritual events planned. I was asked to help with the Saturday evening ritual, the last of the event. My part was to call in the North in whatever way I wished, as long as it reflected the themes of the ritual and the event - the theme of both being "Bring the Spirit Home". This year's event focused on how people integrate their spiritual and mundane lives instead of separating them.
Of course, I sang in the North. I wrote a little piece just for the occasion (I plan to turn it into a song for next year's concert season, though).
I won't go into all the details here, but I want to share one part of the ritual that I found lovely and rather powerful.
Throughout the year, they've had people all over the country collecting fire for this ritual. That doesn't mena carrying live flame around with them - they lit candles or bits of wood in one fire, extinguished them, and kept them safe. The spirit of the fire remains, even when the flame has gone. The people them brought these fires to PSG for the ritual.
There was a smaller fire to one side of the main fire circle. Into this, various people cast their bits of fire from various places, explaining where it had come from. In this way, our fire was connected to those other fires, and communities. The final piece was presented by a gentleman who had traveled to Kildaire, Ireland - a place where fires have been lit for the gods for thousands of years. Archeologists have, it seems, dug down to the deepest layer, the bottom most fire. The gentleman had a piece of that charcoal, thousands of years old. It was perhaps the size of the first length of my pinkie finger, but it was huge in symbolism. As he cast it into the living flame, he connected our fire to one thousands of years old, and to every fire after it. His most prized possession, he cast into the fire, a gift to his community.
Those of us who called in the directions had another part to play - we carried large candles to the fire, lit them from this combined flame, and brought them back to our quarters. We had people helping us, and they handed out smaller tapers to everyone in the circle. The small tapers were lit, sharing the combined flame out to the whole circle. People then extinguished the flames so they could take the candles, take the combined fired of generations and communities, take the spirit home.
When the circle was opened and everyone scattered (a storm had been in the offing for the entire ritual, waiting only for us to finish before cracking open the sky), Mum and I lit perhaps a hundred or so more little tapers, extinguishing them by pinching out the flame, so that anyone not at the ritual could have one, or they could go back to the organizer's home for use there. We walked back to our camp in the light sprinkle, ducking under our canopies just as the heavens dumped their contents on our little patch of Earth.
I have two of the tapers here with me. I like the symbolism attached to the ritual, the idea that, in spirit, we are all connected by one of our most primal elements, most primal tools - fire. I like the idea that I can pass this connection on to others, a visible reminder of the spirit we all share.
How do you bring the spirit home?
Of course, I sang in the North. I wrote a little piece just for the occasion (I plan to turn it into a song for next year's concert season, though).
I won't go into all the details here, but I want to share one part of the ritual that I found lovely and rather powerful.
Throughout the year, they've had people all over the country collecting fire for this ritual. That doesn't mena carrying live flame around with them - they lit candles or bits of wood in one fire, extinguished them, and kept them safe. The spirit of the fire remains, even when the flame has gone. The people them brought these fires to PSG for the ritual.
There was a smaller fire to one side of the main fire circle. Into this, various people cast their bits of fire from various places, explaining where it had come from. In this way, our fire was connected to those other fires, and communities. The final piece was presented by a gentleman who had traveled to Kildaire, Ireland - a place where fires have been lit for the gods for thousands of years. Archeologists have, it seems, dug down to the deepest layer, the bottom most fire. The gentleman had a piece of that charcoal, thousands of years old. It was perhaps the size of the first length of my pinkie finger, but it was huge in symbolism. As he cast it into the living flame, he connected our fire to one thousands of years old, and to every fire after it. His most prized possession, he cast into the fire, a gift to his community.
Those of us who called in the directions had another part to play - we carried large candles to the fire, lit them from this combined flame, and brought them back to our quarters. We had people helping us, and they handed out smaller tapers to everyone in the circle. The small tapers were lit, sharing the combined flame out to the whole circle. People then extinguished the flames so they could take the candles, take the combined fired of generations and communities, take the spirit home.
When the circle was opened and everyone scattered (a storm had been in the offing for the entire ritual, waiting only for us to finish before cracking open the sky), Mum and I lit perhaps a hundred or so more little tapers, extinguishing them by pinching out the flame, so that anyone not at the ritual could have one, or they could go back to the organizer's home for use there. We walked back to our camp in the light sprinkle, ducking under our canopies just as the heavens dumped their contents on our little patch of Earth.
I have two of the tapers here with me. I like the symbolism attached to the ritual, the idea that, in spirit, we are all connected by one of our most primal elements, most primal tools - fire. I like the idea that I can pass this connection on to others, a visible reminder of the spirit we all share.
How do you bring the spirit home?
Monday, July 7, 2008
At the Movie
On Saturday, we took Bird to see Kung Fu Panda in the theater. It was his second movie-going experience, and he thoroughly enjoyed himself. The theater we patronize has excellent popcorn and several seats that are extra wide - meant, I am sure, for extra-large or disabled customers, but perfect for a mother and her little boy to sit and snuggle during the film.
We used the extra-wide seat because Bird's not heavy enough to hold down a regular seat on his own (although it is funny to watch him try and end up folded in half for his troubles), and last time (Horton Hears a Who) he ended up in my lap for most of the film. That was lovely, but not terribly comfortable for me. In the wide seat, he could lean against me, sit up straight, or even crawl onto my lap if he wanted. For the most part, he leaned against me.
The movie was fun, but the best part was when, during a slight lull in the action and noise, he said "I love you", eyes glued to the screen, hand buried in his popcorn. Sigh.
We used the extra-wide seat because Bird's not heavy enough to hold down a regular seat on his own (although it is funny to watch him try and end up folded in half for his troubles), and last time (Horton Hears a Who) he ended up in my lap for most of the film. That was lovely, but not terribly comfortable for me. In the wide seat, he could lean against me, sit up straight, or even crawl onto my lap if he wanted. For the most part, he leaned against me.
The movie was fun, but the best part was when, during a slight lull in the action and noise, he said "I love you", eyes glued to the screen, hand buried in his popcorn. Sigh.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Abracadabra, Hey- Pesto!!
Yes, pesto. Mmm, pesto.
In late Spring, I planted a couple of basil seedlings, hoping that I could enjoy some fresh basil and tomatoes this Summer.
The tomatoes are resisting, although they have had to weather blossom-end rot, Giant Green Critters of Doom, and the Georgia heat.
The basil thrived, happily giving a few of its leaves to the local wildlife for a snack while growing as high as my knee. Thursday, as I was in the midst of preparing deviled eggs and Rice Krispies treats, I decided that it was time to make pesto. Mmm, pesto.
It's recipe time!!
The players:
A bunch of fresh basil - about two-and-a-half cups gently packedA small handful of pine nuts. You can use walnuts, too, I'm tols, but I like pine nuts
About a half a cup of grated parmesan, romano, or some combination of the two
Three cloves of garlic, peeled
Olive oil
Salt
Pepper
A cutting board
An Ulu or Mezzaluna style knife
On with the show!
First, place about a third of the basil and all of the garlic on the board. Yes, I used four cloves - I love me some garlic! Rough chop them.
Add another third of the basil, keep chopping. Add the final third, and chop, chop, chop.
I realize that this would go faster in a food processor, but A) I don't have one, and B) I like the coarser texture of the hand chopped pesto.
Add half the pine nuts. You know the drill. Add the other half. Chop-chop!
See? Chopped up fine, but not a paste. Don't worry, we're almost there.
Using the Ulu, a spatula, or your hands, mix in the grated cheese. Freshly grated is preferred, but this time I used ready-grated. I used parmesan, because romano is a little more strong in flavour and can overpower the spicy basil and the pungent garlic.Salt and pepper to taste. You can get away without salt in this if you use salt in you pasta water, but since I use pesto on sandwiches, in past, in salads, and on crackers, I salted.
Gently squeeze it into a ball. When it looks like this (What is going on with my hand?? It doesn't look that pudgy in person, I swear!!):
It's ready for a container. "But wait" you cry, "You forgot the oil!!" No I didn't. Patience, friend. Really, if you've read this blog for any length of time, haven't you noticed that I often don't do things the normal way??Press the almost-pesto into a container.
I have much love for Ziploc Twist-n-Serve containers. Much, much love.Drizzle in just enough olive oil to cover the top. A note - basil browns when exposed to air, so covering it with a touch of oil not only adds flavour, it preserves. You won't need much.
Now for the hardest part - yes, harder than chopping all that by hand. Cover and refrigerate for a day. I see you sneaking a taste! As yummy as it is, let it rest. It's been traumatized - chopped, mixed, oiled, contained, what a day. Let it relax and get used to its new identity. You'll be glad you did.
You can freeze this if you want, but the preparation changes a bit. First, leave out the cheese. Second, drizzle the oil over it and mix. Line an ice cube tray with plastic, press the pesto into the tray, and freeze. Once frozen, pop the cubes into a plastic bag. Thaw and mix in cheese a day before you want to use it.
One last upside to doing this by hand: your hands will smell good enough to eat.
Bonus: Things to do with pesto besides pasta.
Spread onto whole grain bread, top with blanched spinach leaves and chicken salad, enjoy.
Cook radiatore, ziti, bowties, shells, or the shaped pasta of your choice - only remember that the more little nooks and crannies the pasta has, the more the dressing will stick. Drain over frozen peas. Toss pasta and peas with pesto. Add in anything you like - cooked, flaked salmon (fresh, not tinned!), chicken chunks, spinach, red peppers, green onions, whatever you think pasta salad needs. Add just enough mayo to blend it all together.
Spread pesto on crackers. Top with tomato slices, pepperoni, mozzarella, or just eat it plain. Mmm, pesto.
Spread onto pizza dough, top with mozzarella and tomatoes, bake until gooey, golden, and slap-your-mama good.
Cut tomatoes into wedges. Toss with balsamic vinegar and pesto. Eat as is, or pile onto a bed f baby spinach or lettuce.
The possibilities are limited only by imagination.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Independence Day
In writing the Declaration of Independence, in ratifying it, in signing their names to it, the men named at the bottom risked the very things they hoped to secure for themselves and for future generations. They were performing an act of treason, and by putting their names to it they made of themselves targets for the man, for the nation, they accused. They fought for the principles they named, fought for their families, for their lives, and for the burgeoning life of the tender new nation they hoped to nurture into a great place, a free place, a place where anyone could hope to not just survive, but thrive - a place where anyone willing to put their all into it, to do their very best, could find success, no matter what their gods, their nation of origin.
Since that time, people have tried to follow their lead, standing up and making their voices heard to help secure their rights, the rights of future generations. They have added color and sex to the list of things that cannot determine success, cannot be used as an excuse to deny equal opportunity.
You do the same when you vote. You do it when you attend council meetings, board meetings, town hall meetings, and speak your piece; when you ask the hard questions, protest with signs, songs, shouts; when you show people who think they own this nation to the exclusion of others, people who think they have the right to amend your rights to suit them, that you are watching them, that you SEE them, that you know better.
You do it when you tell our armed forces "Thank you for your service" whether you agree with whatever conflicts we're embroiled in or not - because they are standing up for our liberty doing a hard, dirty, often thankless job - and they are there, ultimately, to preserve our nation and its principles (As an aside - thank you, men and women of the armed forces. Thank you, and blessed be, and come home safe to the families who love you, miss you, and hope only for your swift return.).
You do it when you teach the children in your life what it means to be free - freedom to fly means freedom to fall, and freedom to rise up again; freedom to succeed means freedom to fail, and to try once more; freedom to speak means freedom for dissenting opinions to be heard; freedom is not comfortable - at times, it is downright terrifying...but it is necessary to the human spirit.
Given a choice to be cold, hungry, ragged, poor, weary, worn and free, or to be clothed, fed, housed, succored, safe and bound - I will be free. Do not make the mistake of giving up your freedom for the illusion of safety - you will one day wake to find you have nothing left but the yoke you bound yourself to.
I could go on, but to what purpose? You understand or you don't - and my little rant won't sway anyone, I fear.
Here, then, is a transcript of our most essential document, the one that began it all, the one that first gave shape to our name, to our identity as a nation. Read, if nothing else, the first two paragraphs. They are as stirring, heartfelt, and powerful now as when they were first written.
~~~~~
IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776.
The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America,
When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.--Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.
He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.
He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.
He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.
He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.
He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.
He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.
He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.
He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary powers.
He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.
He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harrass our people, and eat out their substance.
He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.
He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.
He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:
For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:
For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:
For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:
For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:
For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury:
For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences
For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies:
For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:
For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.
He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.
He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.
He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.
He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.
He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.
In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.
Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our Brittish brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.
We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.
The 56 signatures on the Declaration appear in the positions indicated:
Column 1 - Georgia: Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, George Walton
Column 2 - North Carolina: William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John Penn
South Carolina: Edward Rutledge, Thomas Heyward, Jr., Thomas Lynch, Jr., Arthur Middleton
Column 3 - Massachusetts: John Hancock
Maryland: Samuel Chase, William Paca, Thomas Stone, Charles Carroll of Carrollton
Virginia: George Wythe, Richard Henry Lee, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Harrison, Thomas Nelson, Jr., Francis Lightfoot Lee, Carter Braxton
Column 4 - Pennsylvania: Robert Morris, Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin, John Morton, George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, James Wilson, George Ross
Delaware: Caesar Rodney, George Read, Thomas McKean
Column 5 - New York: William Floyd, Philip Livingston, Francis Lewis, Lewis Morris
New Jersey: Richard Stockton, John Witherspoon, Francis Hopkinson, John Hart, Abraham Clark
Column 6 - New Hampshire: Josiah Bartlett, William Whipple
Massachusetts: Samuel Adams, John Adams, Robert Treat Paine, Elbridge Gerry
Rhode Island: Stephen Hopkins, William Ellery
Connecticut: Roger Sherman, Samuel Huntington, William Williams, Oliver Wolcott
New Hampshire: Matthew Thornton
~~~
If you've made it this far, thank you. To support out troops, go visit Any Soldier or Troop BeBop (I know this woman - she's a force of nature!). I wish you a safe, joyous, and happy Independence Day!
Since that time, people have tried to follow their lead, standing up and making their voices heard to help secure their rights, the rights of future generations. They have added color and sex to the list of things that cannot determine success, cannot be used as an excuse to deny equal opportunity.
You do the same when you vote. You do it when you attend council meetings, board meetings, town hall meetings, and speak your piece; when you ask the hard questions, protest with signs, songs, shouts; when you show people who think they own this nation to the exclusion of others, people who think they have the right to amend your rights to suit them, that you are watching them, that you SEE them, that you know better.
You do it when you tell our armed forces "Thank you for your service" whether you agree with whatever conflicts we're embroiled in or not - because they are standing up for our liberty doing a hard, dirty, often thankless job - and they are there, ultimately, to preserve our nation and its principles (As an aside - thank you, men and women of the armed forces. Thank you, and blessed be, and come home safe to the families who love you, miss you, and hope only for your swift return.).
You do it when you teach the children in your life what it means to be free - freedom to fly means freedom to fall, and freedom to rise up again; freedom to succeed means freedom to fail, and to try once more; freedom to speak means freedom for dissenting opinions to be heard; freedom is not comfortable - at times, it is downright terrifying...but it is necessary to the human spirit.
Given a choice to be cold, hungry, ragged, poor, weary, worn and free, or to be clothed, fed, housed, succored, safe and bound - I will be free. Do not make the mistake of giving up your freedom for the illusion of safety - you will one day wake to find you have nothing left but the yoke you bound yourself to.
I could go on, but to what purpose? You understand or you don't - and my little rant won't sway anyone, I fear.
Here, then, is a transcript of our most essential document, the one that began it all, the one that first gave shape to our name, to our identity as a nation. Read, if nothing else, the first two paragraphs. They are as stirring, heartfelt, and powerful now as when they were first written.
~~~~~
IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776.
The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America,
When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.--Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.
He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.
He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.
He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.
He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.
He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.
He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.
He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.
He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary powers.
He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.
He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harrass our people, and eat out their substance.
He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.
He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.
He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:
For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:
For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:
For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:
For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:
For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury:
For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences
For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies:
For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:
For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.
He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.
He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.
He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.
He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.
He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.
In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.
Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our Brittish brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.
We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.
The 56 signatures on the Declaration appear in the positions indicated:
Column 1 - Georgia: Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, George Walton
Column 2 - North Carolina: William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John Penn
South Carolina: Edward Rutledge, Thomas Heyward, Jr., Thomas Lynch, Jr., Arthur Middleton
Column 3 - Massachusetts: John Hancock
Maryland: Samuel Chase, William Paca, Thomas Stone, Charles Carroll of Carrollton
Virginia: George Wythe, Richard Henry Lee, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Harrison, Thomas Nelson, Jr., Francis Lightfoot Lee, Carter Braxton
Column 4 - Pennsylvania: Robert Morris, Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin, John Morton, George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, James Wilson, George Ross
Delaware: Caesar Rodney, George Read, Thomas McKean
Column 5 - New York: William Floyd, Philip Livingston, Francis Lewis, Lewis Morris
New Jersey: Richard Stockton, John Witherspoon, Francis Hopkinson, John Hart, Abraham Clark
Column 6 - New Hampshire: Josiah Bartlett, William Whipple
Massachusetts: Samuel Adams, John Adams, Robert Treat Paine, Elbridge Gerry
Rhode Island: Stephen Hopkins, William Ellery
Connecticut: Roger Sherman, Samuel Huntington, William Williams, Oliver Wolcott
New Hampshire: Matthew Thornton
~~~
If you've made it this far, thank you. To support out troops, go visit Any Soldier or Troop BeBop (I know this woman - she's a force of nature!). I wish you a safe, joyous, and happy Independence Day!
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Thoughtfetti
I have come to realize that a twelve-hundred dollar mattress will sag just as much as a two-hundred dollar mattress. The amount shelled out for the mattress will not affect the amount of back pain I suffer from sleeping on it.
Fat people can sag even the best mattress in double-quick time.
I should be paid to test mattresses.
The best mattress I ever had is still in great condition. It cost a few-hundred dollars, didn't have any fancy springs, pillow top, or other extras. It's just a mattress. It's on my old bed in the guest room/Mum's room, and she sleeps fine on it when she stays. I may have to start sleeping on it again, if I want to continue walking upright.
A five-year-old bot can learn everything there is to know about dinosaurs in fifteen minutes, but must be told two-thousand four-hundred sixty-three times that dirty laundry goes in the basket.
Rice Krispies treats are sticky.
Pressing them into a glass pan with your hands is even stickier, but the clean-up sure is fun!
I like deviled eggs.
Peeling the eggs while they're still hot yields two results - first, the peels come off beautifully and second, you might get steam burns. I'm just saying.
I always have extra filling for deviled eggs. I don't like wasting it.
Deviled egg filling tastes mighty fine on a Triscuit.
Fresh picked basil smells loverly.
Chopped basil and garlic could well be a tonic for depression.
Cooking all day, making simple things to bring to the potluck Independence Day pool party (things you know people will love because they always ask you for them and devour them quickly) and one or two things to keep at home for later, is a tonic for depression.
Fat people can sag even the best mattress in double-quick time.
I should be paid to test mattresses.
The best mattress I ever had is still in great condition. It cost a few-hundred dollars, didn't have any fancy springs, pillow top, or other extras. It's just a mattress. It's on my old bed in the guest room/Mum's room, and she sleeps fine on it when she stays. I may have to start sleeping on it again, if I want to continue walking upright.
A five-year-old bot can learn everything there is to know about dinosaurs in fifteen minutes, but must be told two-thousand four-hundred sixty-three times that dirty laundry goes in the basket.
Rice Krispies treats are sticky.
Pressing them into a glass pan with your hands is even stickier, but the clean-up sure is fun!
I like deviled eggs.
Peeling the eggs while they're still hot yields two results - first, the peels come off beautifully and second, you might get steam burns. I'm just saying.
I always have extra filling for deviled eggs. I don't like wasting it.
Deviled egg filling tastes mighty fine on a Triscuit.
Fresh picked basil smells loverly.
Chopped basil and garlic could well be a tonic for depression.
Cooking all day, making simple things to bring to the potluck Independence Day pool party (things you know people will love because they always ask you for them and devour them quickly) and one or two things to keep at home for later, is a tonic for depression.
Giant Green Critters of Doom!
Do I have your attention?
Let me tell you a tale, children, of how I battled the Giant Green Critters of Doom and survived to tell of it.
It began innocently enough - I desired to grow tomatoes for my enjoyment, and basil to adorn them with. I had the thought that tomatoes warm from the sun, ripe, crimson, delightful, bursting with flavour, would be a wonderful thing.
I purchased some tomato seedlings (Rutgers, heirloom) from an Evil Sorcerer named tarM-laW. They were small plants, but I knew that with love and patience, they would be mighty.
The red earth around my home would not do for my new little darlings, so I planted them in a pot, a large pot, with room for them to reach their roots downward and stretch their leaves upward and bring forth their globes of nutritive delight.
I watered them twice a day and arranged for their care while I was away, frolicking in the wilds of Ohio.
I returned to find them having missed me, but well enough. One or two of the little green berries were black at the bottom, unwell! I learned that potted tomatoes sometimes have blossom end rot due to calcium deficiency. Oh, no, osteoporosis for tomatoes! I remedied their condition.
One day, while watering them, I noticed odd little pellets on the ground around the pot. Hmm. Nothing looked amiss on the plants, so I watered them, rinsed the walkway, and left them in peace. The next day, more pellets. Tiny little things, they looked almost like morning glory seeds, but there are no glories in that part of the yard, and also it's too early for seeds. Hmm, again. Once more, I rinsed the walk, looked at the plants, and wondered what alien things were going on when I wasn't looking.
The next day, which would be Monday of this week, I found my answer.It was as big around as my thumb (not exaggerating the tiniest bit), and three or four inches long (again, really). It was plump, solid, and looked rather like a rolled up leaf. It was eating my plants! It was a Giant Green Critter of Doom!!
It was perched on top of a branch, happily munching away without regard to my desire for fresh produce!
Horror!
I investigated a little closer. It had a spiky bit on what I presumed was the backside. I poked it with a bit of grass, hoping to dislodge it. Giant Green Critter of Doom or not, I didn't want to kill it if I didn't have to. It didn't budge. Well, I thought, after all I'm only using a bit of grass. I looked for a twig and poke a little more insistently. Nothing, That Giant Green Critter of Doom was as solid as Gibraltar, and about as inclined to move. Hmm.
I poke harder and that's when it happened! The Giant Green Critter of Doom reared up, turned, and menaced me with nine-inch fangs!! (OK, now that may have been a slight exaggeration.) It reared back, turned, and let loose a stream of invective that included me, my progeny, and all the members of our household, then moved on to its analysis of our political system and all the woes of mankind. It was a well rounded Giant Green Critter of Doom.
OK, really, it did rear up and turn, and it would have hissed if this was a Stephen King or Arachnaphobia kind of movie. Maybe even spit something. I was, to say the least, startled. A word popped into my head, a name for this Giant Green Critter of Doom, but I wasn't sure if I really knew what it was (besides angry that I'd interrupted its lunch).
Nothing I did could dislodge the uninvited visitor, so I pulled out my tiny, almost microscopic pocket knife and decided that surgical intervention was the only answer. I carefully pruned off the branch where the Giant Green Critter of Doom was perched and flung it as far as I could, hoping that the spiky bit at the end wouldn't reach back and stab me as a vicious response to my tomato-rescuing efforts.
I wondered - if there is one, will there be more?
Oh, horror, there was another one! Again, I cut the damaged bit of plant away and flung it, thinking that some bird was going to have a bonanza if it looked in the bushes. A third, and then a fourth followed. Poor plants, all munched and cut. Then I saw the green tomatoes, half-eaten away! Argh! With sorrow in my heart, I pulled them from the plants and sent them sailing in the direction of the Giant Green Critters of Doom - lunch out on me, guys.
I watered the plants, spoke lovingly to them, reassured and encouraged them, and went about my preparations for the guests I was expecting that night.
I also looked up my Giant Green Critters of Doom on the infallible Internet. The thought I'd had as to their identity was right - no otherworldly menace were they, but rather:
Photo copied from these folks, because I didn't think about photographing my Giant Green Critters of Doom until they'd already been flung, and I wasn't going to look for them and ask for a close-up.
Photo "borrowed" from here without permission and with complete disregard for her feelings on the matter.
The funny little pellets are called "frass", which is really a nice way of saying "hornworm poo".
I found another, smaller one on there yesterday. He had a flight lesson and hasn't returned. I am now given to fits of suspicious staring, poking, and investigating the undersides of my tomato plants. I have decided that if I get even one ripe tomato from these poor, benighted plants, it will be a wonder.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
La, la, la and Button, Button
I have more memories to share from my Ohio trip, but I've been feeling grumpy, out of sorts, and a little...dull...of late. That's why the memes - I've had a few stacked up in the wings for a while, but I wanted to save them for times like this where I feel I can't do a real topic justice. Holy self-centered, self-indulgent idiocy, Batguy!
So, anyway, here's another of the buttons for your enjoyment (or don't enjoy it, what do I care, I'm just typing my fingers to the bone, here, trying to entertain all four of you with no help from your father...)(Wait, umm...did I just channel someone's Jewish mother?)(Or maybe I was a Jewish Mother in a previous life. Hmm...).
So, anyway, here's another of the buttons for your enjoyment (or don't enjoy it, what do I care, I'm just typing my fingers to the bone, here, trying to entertain all four of you with no help from your father...)(Wait, umm...did I just channel someone's Jewish mother?)(Or maybe I was a Jewish Mother in a previous life. Hmm...).
I'm an asshole. There, I feel better.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Here Comes the Meme Again...
1) are you ready for 100 questions?
Is anyone ever ready?
2) Was your last real relationship a mistake?
Good grief, that's a harsh and deeply personal question to ask a body on the Internet. I refuse to answer...but mostly because I'm still in my last relationship, thank you very much.
3) Do you believe in God?
I believe in Gods, Goddesses, Fairies, and Tax Reform. Oh, wait, that last one's a myth...
4) Who did you last say I love you to?
Bird.
5) Do you regret it?
Nope, and I never will. When he was born, I promised him I'd kiss him a million times before he was ten. Done.
6)Have you ever been depressed?
Been? That implies I'm not, now. I always will be, it's a condition that fluctuates between a sort of low grade mental arthritis to emotional cancer.
7) Do you have a best friend?
I have several friends who fit nicely into the category of "People I love and will drop everything to come rescue". I don't have one "best", because that implies there are lesser grades.
8) Are you a boy or girl?
Surprise me.
There's no number nine. Why? You got something against nine? What'd it ever do to you???
10) How do you want to die?
Happy, or at least content.
11) What did you last eat last?
A hunk of sharp cheddar cheese and a pineapple chunk.
12) Are you texting anybody?
I don't text. Why is this always one these things? Why does it matter? What does anyone hope to learn by asking this?
Oh, sure, leave out thirteen, too. I see how it is - you have something against odd numbers!
11) Do you play an instrument? *Does anyone else have deja-vu??
Besides myself (vocalist)? Flute, alto recorder, drum, various percussion instruments, kitchen cutlery and utensils (if you think cooking well isn't akin to singing, well...you've never et' here). I can pick notes out on a piano or a marimba, too. Also, I play a mean jug and my kazoo skillz are mad, yo.
12) Do you bite your nails? *I feel like I've been here at number twelve before...
No.
13) When was your last physical fight? *Hey, here's thirteen, hanging out with the vestigial eleven and twelve gang!
I don't recall having any...
14) Tom from MySpace is about to go to jail, what’s your first thought?
Erm...OK.
15) Do you have an attitude?
Doesn't everyone? Even a positive attitude is an attitude.
16) Ever been in love?
I don't like this question. It's nosey, and potentially hurtful. But yes.
17) What is your real name?
Nunna. As In, Nunna Your Beeswax.
18) Like reading?
"Like" doesn't begin to describe. I don't read, I devour - I gobble up books so fast, genres can't keep up with me. On a slow week, I'll go through four paperbacks and want more. I have read every one of the books in my home library, many of them more than once. "Like"? Hah!!
19) Are you gonna get high later?
Not this decade, thanks. I have a kid, and responsibilities, and no disposable income. That last is a joke, for you anti-anything people who want to jump down my throat.
20) Do you hate anyone at the moment?
I don't hate. Rather like texting, I can't see the point of it.
21) Do you miss someone?
On occasion.
22) Twirl or cut your spaghetti?
Slurp.
23) Who is your best friend's uncle's cousin's girlfriend's daughter's boyfriend's girlfriend?
A kumquat.
24) Do you tan a lot?
Not on purpose.
25) Have any pets?
Three cats (they own me), two grown men and one child all share the house with me. As I am responsible for making sure they have food, water, a potty, and a place to sleep, they're all pets.
26) How exactly are you feeling?
Content, tired, sore, achy, sad, depressed, enchanted, hungry, thirsty, and generally status quo.
27) Ever ate food in a car while someone or your self is driving?
Yes. And shouldn't that "ate" be "eaten"? And shouldn't "your self" be "yourself"? I understand that Tweens need hobbies, and that memes are de-rigueur for time-passing, but would you please make an effort not to slaughter my beloved English? That's my job. Which reminds me of something I often say when asked if I am multi-lingual: "I only speak two languages - English and Bad English!" Although, I actually speak three, because I'm also fluent in Typo. Oops, tangent.
Twenty-eight and twenty-nine have withdrawn from the game. They're a little ooked-out by the extra eleven and twelve up there and needed to lie down with a Mojito and The Reader's Digest to recover.
30) Are Barbie & Ken bad influences on people?
If said people buy into the idea that Barbie and Ken represent reality, then yes. If they're just dolls for kids to dress, style, and eventually autopsy, then no.
31) Do you regret anything from your past?
Am I human? Wait, don't answer that!! Of course I do - I don't know anyone who doesn't wish they'd said or done something differently. I don't regret my past as a whole because it shapes my present, just as my present shapes my future. I just wish I wasn't such a freak ALL the time.
32) What are your political views?
I can't see any politicians from here, so the view is fine, thanks.
33) Do you want to have kids?
I already have one. I would have liked two, but a second isn't in the cards. Most days, I accept that.
34) Ever kissed somebody that name starts with a N?
Ummm...what the hell kind of question is this? Completely random, that's what. No, I haven't. Weirdoes.
35) Do you type fast?
I have no idea - fast enough to suit me.
36) Do you have piercings?
My ears.
37) Want any more?
Nope. Not interested in making any more holes, thanks. Tattoos, though...
38) Can you spell well?
Usually, although on occasion I double letters or transpose them.
39) Do you miss anyone from your past?
On occasion.
40) What are you craving right now?
Olives, which I'm eating.
We lost forty-one through forty-nine to an over-the-hill party down the road - they heard there was beer and cake and they were gone!
50) What should you be doing?
Housework, napping, writing query letters, winning the lottery...
51) Who was your last text from and what did it say?
How many times to I have to type it out? I don't text!
52) Anything stressing you out?
All these questions about texting are a drag. Finances are stressful, but manageable. I'm more stressed about growing some balls and actually trying to get published. See? I just lost fourteen hairs and had twelve more go grey just thinking about it!
53) Does somebody love you?
They say they do. A better question would be whether I can believe them, accept their love, and feel loved.
54) What is your favorite color?
Blue. This is one of two questions I can answer definitively. Aquarians are like that - we don't usually have favorites.
55) So are you liking this survey?It has its moments.
56) Do you have a crush?
No, I recycle cans and bottles whole. Hah! OK, I have a big ol' fangirl crush on Mike Rowe.
57) Do you have trust issues?
I don't know if I should answer that - how do I know you won't use it against me later??
58) Have you ever had sexual feelings for someone?
This is such a childish question. Any adult who denies EVER having sexual feelings for ANYONE is not being honest.
59) Do you like to listen to music?
Yes.
60) Do you have a good relationship with your parents?
With my mother, yes - we are close. We share a brain. No, really, we do - we say the same things at the same time, have the same hankerings at the same time, have the same thoughts at the same time, and occasionally I'll bring her a coke because she wanted one...and she never has to say a word. It's...weird. My dad? Not so much. I love him, but he's not (and never has been) an active participant in the carnival of my life. Poor guy, doesn't know what he's missing...I'm the human equivalent of the Tilt-a-whirl!
61) Are you secretly in love?
Not that I know of, but you never can tell. Anyway, how would I know, if it's a secret??
62) Do you believe your ex thinks about you?
If I had an ex, I'm sure they would. But I don't, since I never dated before I met T.
64) Have you ever betrayed a best friend?
Not knowingly, nor would I.
65) Is it too personal now?
It got personal a long time ago, but I don't answer what I don't want to, since this is my blog, my life, and my business. So there, tweeny meme crafter!
Hmm...sixty-six was due home an hour ago. If you see it, tell it that sixty-five and sixty-seven are getting worried and considering filing a missing person's report.
67) What kind of phone do you have?
A brown one!
68) Have you ever walked outside completely naked?
Yes, and it was delightful. I've moon-bathed, gone skinny dipping, walked in the woods and danced in the rain many times...but only where no one would get an eyeful of trauma over it.
69) Do you think you're a good person?
I am the best me I can be, for what it's worth.
70) Do you believe everything happens for a reason?
Do you have a reason for asking?
71) Do you take showers?
Really, I may be a rotten housekeeper, but there's no need to question my hygiene. I've had two showers this month alone!
72) Last time you had a nice bubble bath?
I don't remember.
73) What is bothering you?
Questions about texting, the pain in my thumbs, and tax reform.
74) Have you ever done drugs?
Yes, on several occasions. I inhaled. It was fun. I've been done for e along time, don't feel pressed about going back to that.
75) Do you play the Wii?
Don't have one.
76) How do you feel about Wal-Mart?
There's a reason I call it "The Evil Empire" but I do shop there when I can't find what I want/need anywhere else.
77) Who has inspired you the most?
I don't know, I'm not done yet.
Seventy-eight is climbing Mt. Everest. It brought some bottled water, a blanket, and gorp, but forgot its cell-phone and a Sherpa. Wish it luck.
79) What is your favorite quote?
Don't ask an Aquarius (or anyone who's well read, for that matter) for a favorite.
80) Are you excited you're almost done with this survey?
There's nothing exciting about this, even finishing. It's just...here.
81) Are you mean?
Sometimes my son thinks so, but I'm a Mum and that's my job. Otherwise, no. Pragmatic, a touch Practical Darwinistic sometimes, but not cruel.
82) Can you keep white shoes clean?
If pressed, I could - if I owned white shoes.
83) Have you noticed this survey stopped getting personal?
Anything that asks questions about feeling, likes, dislikes, history, etc., is personal to some degree, so it's still personal.
84) Do you believe in true love?
Yes.
85) Are you proud of the person you've become?
I accept the me that I am, despite what I perceive to be deep, deep flaws.
86) Do you wanna change?
I like the clothes I'm in just now, so no thanks.
87) Who was the last person to make you mad?
T often irritates me without even trying - no kidding, the man has talent! That's OK, though, because I am a grumpus - wind blowing the wrong way will piss me off! That said, I rarely get angry. My anger is slow to rise, long to burn, and slow to ebb.
88) Do you like the outside?
Yep, even when outside doesn't like me.
89) Are you currently bored?
Bored? What is bored??
90) Do you want to get married?
Why, are you saying my wedding wasn't legal? That the judge wasn't really a judge?? The probate court will be stunned! Or, are you suggesting that polygamy might suit me?
Ninety-one and ninety-two have gone in search of sixty-six. They think it's hiding out with eleven, being naughty and multiplying.
93) Do you have a bank account?
Several, and they're all full...of dust.
94) What makes you happy?
Drugs. Hah! No, really - I can't quantify what makes me or anyone happy - it's too complex to answer in something this frivolous.
95) Would you change your name?
I once thought I would but...nah. I get too much mileage out of it (if you know my legal name, you know why it's funny).
96) Ever been to Alaska?
No, and I'd like to go while there are still some glaciers and icebergs left to get sunk by!
97) Are you paranoid?
Who are you? What do you want? Why are you asking me all these questions? Who sent you? You're all out to get me!!
98) Do you watch the news?
Not if I can help it. I get all my news from tabloid headlines. OK, again, not really - but I avoid most news programs because they come across as biased and a little too cheerful about the mayhem they're reporting on. It's disturbing.
99) What is your zodiac sign?
Guess.
100) Who was the last person you truly gave up on?
I don't know that I have given up on anyone...
Is anyone ever ready?
2) Was your last real relationship a mistake?
Good grief, that's a harsh and deeply personal question to ask a body on the Internet. I refuse to answer...but mostly because I'm still in my last relationship, thank you very much.
3) Do you believe in God?
I believe in Gods, Goddesses, Fairies, and Tax Reform. Oh, wait, that last one's a myth...
4) Who did you last say I love you to?
Bird.
5) Do you regret it?
Nope, and I never will. When he was born, I promised him I'd kiss him a million times before he was ten. Done.
6)Have you ever been depressed?
Been? That implies I'm not, now. I always will be, it's a condition that fluctuates between a sort of low grade mental arthritis to emotional cancer.
7) Do you have a best friend?
I have several friends who fit nicely into the category of "People I love and will drop everything to come rescue". I don't have one "best", because that implies there are lesser grades.
8) Are you a boy or girl?
Surprise me.
There's no number nine. Why? You got something against nine? What'd it ever do to you???
10) How do you want to die?
Happy, or at least content.
11) What did you last eat last?
A hunk of sharp cheddar cheese and a pineapple chunk.
12) Are you texting anybody?
I don't text. Why is this always one these things? Why does it matter? What does anyone hope to learn by asking this?
Oh, sure, leave out thirteen, too. I see how it is - you have something against odd numbers!
11) Do you play an instrument? *Does anyone else have deja-vu??
Besides myself (vocalist)? Flute, alto recorder, drum, various percussion instruments, kitchen cutlery and utensils (if you think cooking well isn't akin to singing, well...you've never et' here). I can pick notes out on a piano or a marimba, too. Also, I play a mean jug and my kazoo skillz are mad, yo.
12) Do you bite your nails? *I feel like I've been here at number twelve before...
No.
13) When was your last physical fight? *Hey, here's thirteen, hanging out with the vestigial eleven and twelve gang!
I don't recall having any...
14) Tom from MySpace is about to go to jail, what’s your first thought?
Erm...OK.
15) Do you have an attitude?
Doesn't everyone? Even a positive attitude is an attitude.
16) Ever been in love?
I don't like this question. It's nosey, and potentially hurtful. But yes.
17) What is your real name?
Nunna. As In, Nunna Your Beeswax.
18) Like reading?
"Like" doesn't begin to describe. I don't read, I devour - I gobble up books so fast, genres can't keep up with me. On a slow week, I'll go through four paperbacks and want more. I have read every one of the books in my home library, many of them more than once. "Like"? Hah!!
19) Are you gonna get high later?
Not this decade, thanks. I have a kid, and responsibilities, and no disposable income. That last is a joke, for you anti-anything people who want to jump down my throat.
20) Do you hate anyone at the moment?
I don't hate. Rather like texting, I can't see the point of it.
21) Do you miss someone?
On occasion.
22) Twirl or cut your spaghetti?
Slurp.
23) Who is your best friend's uncle's cousin's girlfriend's daughter's boyfriend's girlfriend?
A kumquat.
24) Do you tan a lot?
Not on purpose.
25) Have any pets?
Three cats (they own me), two grown men and one child all share the house with me. As I am responsible for making sure they have food, water, a potty, and a place to sleep, they're all pets.
26) How exactly are you feeling?
Content, tired, sore, achy, sad, depressed, enchanted, hungry, thirsty, and generally status quo.
27) Ever ate food in a car while someone or your self is driving?
Yes. And shouldn't that "ate" be "eaten"? And shouldn't "your self" be "yourself"? I understand that Tweens need hobbies, and that memes are de-rigueur for time-passing, but would you please make an effort not to slaughter my beloved English? That's my job. Which reminds me of something I often say when asked if I am multi-lingual: "I only speak two languages - English and Bad English!" Although, I actually speak three, because I'm also fluent in Typo. Oops, tangent.
Twenty-eight and twenty-nine have withdrawn from the game. They're a little ooked-out by the extra eleven and twelve up there and needed to lie down with a Mojito and The Reader's Digest to recover.
30) Are Barbie & Ken bad influences on people?
If said people buy into the idea that Barbie and Ken represent reality, then yes. If they're just dolls for kids to dress, style, and eventually autopsy, then no.
31) Do you regret anything from your past?
Am I human? Wait, don't answer that!! Of course I do - I don't know anyone who doesn't wish they'd said or done something differently. I don't regret my past as a whole because it shapes my present, just as my present shapes my future. I just wish I wasn't such a freak ALL the time.
32) What are your political views?
I can't see any politicians from here, so the view is fine, thanks.
33) Do you want to have kids?
I already have one. I would have liked two, but a second isn't in the cards. Most days, I accept that.
34) Ever kissed somebody that name starts with a N?
Ummm...what the hell kind of question is this? Completely random, that's what. No, I haven't. Weirdoes.
35) Do you type fast?
I have no idea - fast enough to suit me.
36) Do you have piercings?
My ears.
37) Want any more?
Nope. Not interested in making any more holes, thanks. Tattoos, though...
38) Can you spell well?
Usually, although on occasion I double letters or transpose them.
39) Do you miss anyone from your past?
On occasion.
40) What are you craving right now?
Olives, which I'm eating.
We lost forty-one through forty-nine to an over-the-hill party down the road - they heard there was beer and cake and they were gone!
50) What should you be doing?
Housework, napping, writing query letters, winning the lottery...
51) Who was your last text from and what did it say?
How many times to I have to type it out? I don't text!
52) Anything stressing you out?
All these questions about texting are a drag. Finances are stressful, but manageable. I'm more stressed about growing some balls and actually trying to get published. See? I just lost fourteen hairs and had twelve more go grey just thinking about it!
53) Does somebody love you?
They say they do. A better question would be whether I can believe them, accept their love, and feel loved.
54) What is your favorite color?
Blue. This is one of two questions I can answer definitively. Aquarians are like that - we don't usually have favorites.
55) So are you liking this survey?It has its moments.
56) Do you have a crush?
No, I recycle cans and bottles whole. Hah! OK, I have a big ol' fangirl crush on Mike Rowe.
57) Do you have trust issues?
I don't know if I should answer that - how do I know you won't use it against me later??
58) Have you ever had sexual feelings for someone?
This is such a childish question. Any adult who denies EVER having sexual feelings for ANYONE is not being honest.
59) Do you like to listen to music?
Yes.
60) Do you have a good relationship with your parents?
With my mother, yes - we are close. We share a brain. No, really, we do - we say the same things at the same time, have the same hankerings at the same time, have the same thoughts at the same time, and occasionally I'll bring her a coke because she wanted one...and she never has to say a word. It's...weird. My dad? Not so much. I love him, but he's not (and never has been) an active participant in the carnival of my life. Poor guy, doesn't know what he's missing...I'm the human equivalent of the Tilt-a-whirl!
61) Are you secretly in love?
Not that I know of, but you never can tell. Anyway, how would I know, if it's a secret??
62) Do you believe your ex thinks about you?
If I had an ex, I'm sure they would. But I don't, since I never dated before I met T.
64) Have you ever betrayed a best friend?
Not knowingly, nor would I.
65) Is it too personal now?
It got personal a long time ago, but I don't answer what I don't want to, since this is my blog, my life, and my business. So there, tweeny meme crafter!
Hmm...sixty-six was due home an hour ago. If you see it, tell it that sixty-five and sixty-seven are getting worried and considering filing a missing person's report.
67) What kind of phone do you have?
A brown one!
68) Have you ever walked outside completely naked?
Yes, and it was delightful. I've moon-bathed, gone skinny dipping, walked in the woods and danced in the rain many times...but only where no one would get an eyeful of trauma over it.
69) Do you think you're a good person?
I am the best me I can be, for what it's worth.
70) Do you believe everything happens for a reason?
Do you have a reason for asking?
71) Do you take showers?
Really, I may be a rotten housekeeper, but there's no need to question my hygiene. I've had two showers this month alone!
72) Last time you had a nice bubble bath?
I don't remember.
73) What is bothering you?
Questions about texting, the pain in my thumbs, and tax reform.
74) Have you ever done drugs?
Yes, on several occasions. I inhaled. It was fun. I've been done for e along time, don't feel pressed about going back to that.
75) Do you play the Wii?
Don't have one.
76) How do you feel about Wal-Mart?
There's a reason I call it "The Evil Empire" but I do shop there when I can't find what I want/need anywhere else.
77) Who has inspired you the most?
I don't know, I'm not done yet.
Seventy-eight is climbing Mt. Everest. It brought some bottled water, a blanket, and gorp, but forgot its cell-phone and a Sherpa. Wish it luck.
79) What is your favorite quote?
Don't ask an Aquarius (or anyone who's well read, for that matter) for a favorite.
80) Are you excited you're almost done with this survey?
There's nothing exciting about this, even finishing. It's just...here.
81) Are you mean?
Sometimes my son thinks so, but I'm a Mum and that's my job. Otherwise, no. Pragmatic, a touch Practical Darwinistic sometimes, but not cruel.
82) Can you keep white shoes clean?
If pressed, I could - if I owned white shoes.
83) Have you noticed this survey stopped getting personal?
Anything that asks questions about feeling, likes, dislikes, history, etc., is personal to some degree, so it's still personal.
84) Do you believe in true love?
Yes.
85) Are you proud of the person you've become?
I accept the me that I am, despite what I perceive to be deep, deep flaws.
86) Do you wanna change?
I like the clothes I'm in just now, so no thanks.
87) Who was the last person to make you mad?
T often irritates me without even trying - no kidding, the man has talent! That's OK, though, because I am a grumpus - wind blowing the wrong way will piss me off! That said, I rarely get angry. My anger is slow to rise, long to burn, and slow to ebb.
88) Do you like the outside?
Yep, even when outside doesn't like me.
89) Are you currently bored?
Bored? What is bored??
90) Do you want to get married?
Why, are you saying my wedding wasn't legal? That the judge wasn't really a judge?? The probate court will be stunned! Or, are you suggesting that polygamy might suit me?
Ninety-one and ninety-two have gone in search of sixty-six. They think it's hiding out with eleven, being naughty and multiplying.
93) Do you have a bank account?
Several, and they're all full...of dust.
94) What makes you happy?
Drugs. Hah! No, really - I can't quantify what makes me or anyone happy - it's too complex to answer in something this frivolous.
95) Would you change your name?
I once thought I would but...nah. I get too much mileage out of it (if you know my legal name, you know why it's funny).
96) Ever been to Alaska?
No, and I'd like to go while there are still some glaciers and icebergs left to get sunk by!
97) Are you paranoid?
Who are you? What do you want? Why are you asking me all these questions? Who sent you? You're all out to get me!!
98) Do you watch the news?
Not if I can help it. I get all my news from tabloid headlines. OK, again, not really - but I avoid most news programs because they come across as biased and a little too cheerful about the mayhem they're reporting on. It's disturbing.
99) What is your zodiac sign?
Guess.
100) Who was the last person you truly gave up on?
I don't know that I have given up on anyone...
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