So I’m getting connected all over and in the process I realize the commercial booksellers are chasing down my debit card. Facebook has the visual bookshelf and in Linkedin Amazon urges me to share my current reading list. Buying books is always a good purchase and one I have never regretted. Nevertheless call me old fashioned.
Libraries are wonderful many do have their doors open contrary to popular belief. Many have also embraced technology to enable us to enjoy them even if we limit that contact to selecting books online and then retrieving them once the on hold email has been sent. It goes further though.
Let me tell you that being 68 on the wait list for any book sucks. This scarcity makes getting the book a more prized item. Once getting the books the clock starts counting down until it’s due again. Avid booklover that I am owning a book sometimes takes away the sense of urgency I have at actually completing it. It’s mine and I will keep it read on my deathbed. Two weeks before I become the inconsiderate one holding up the line. Fines help me remember to return. Truly the book return is the gem that the commercial book seller robs from us as we seek to fill our bookshelves with the show of our cultural attainment.
When you love a restaurant what do you do? You tell people you share it. Why? Because wondrous things should not be kept to yourself but shared freely. Often I read books and they have brought about such a feeling, understand or joy that I can’t keep them to myself but I give them away. Hoarding knowledge seems a selfish thing to do. Returning the books allows countless others to share in a common experience as well as individual enlightenment if the book be of quality.
At this time my bookshelves consist mostly of those books which I have read five times or more. Taking this approach I have saved money which I have spent on tickets to concerts, plays and stand up comedians.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
5th Grade Picture Day!!!
Today is Caitlyn’s picture day. Her hair inevitably proved once again there was no baby mix up at the hospital. Huge in the back and making no sense it defied hairspray and a quick brushing more was needed by my skills with hair are notably lacking. Jon stepped in and found a way of somewhat cementing the child’s hair down. Eventually she’ll find out why mom avoids the camera.
You know the picture we all have at least one or in my case 12 that could double as psych ward ID’s. I thought at first it was a fluke like some bad picture year. But it continued and continued all the way through school. Found out later that it runs in the family. My mom and I both have this uncanny ability to contort our faces for pictures with timing so perfect you could set a watch to it. Caitlyn appears at the time to have broken free from the bad picture thing. For this reason I purchase the big picture package.
Why is it that I can do plenty of dumb things with no camera in sight but never look as stupid as I have in school photographs? On the roof the garage cleaning the gutters, jumping on a chair upon sighting a chipmunk in the house, trying to unclog the laundry chute by climbing in the laundry basket attached to the rafters in the basement with a broom seem to be great Kodak moments lost forever. Mysteries like this are probably better left to the Twilight Zone.
Death by floormat?
Let me get this right, the floor mat can be lethal?
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090930/ap_on_bi_ge/us_toyota_floor_mats
Two questions come to me when reading this absurdity. First, were the floor mats developed by the engineers, the designers or a collaboration of both? Second, could even this help the American car manufacturers?
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090930/ap_on_bi_ge/us_toyota_floor_mats
Two questions come to me when reading this absurdity. First, were the floor mats developed by the engineers, the designers or a collaboration of both? Second, could even this help the American car manufacturers?
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
AGGGH!
http://www.cnn.com/2009/POLITICS/09/28/facebook.poll/index.html
The Secret Service has shut down a Facebook poll!!!! I told you the government was keeping tabs on Facebook. Okay so the poll was querying whether or not Obama should be killed. Which I don't like, is stupid and in poor taste regardless of political affiliation (WE WILL DELVE NO DEEPER INTO POLITICAL GROUPS) . That though can be said of most of the Facebook polls. What bothers me more is that free speech stuff guaranteed in the constitution. Particularly a concern as what I write goes left, right and center.
If they can shut down a poll of Facebook can't they do us all a favor and enforce a blacklisting of Kevin Federline from all print and broadcast media?
The Secret Service has shut down a Facebook poll!!!! I told you the government was keeping tabs on Facebook. Okay so the poll was querying whether or not Obama should be killed. Which I don't like, is stupid and in poor taste regardless of political affiliation (WE WILL DELVE NO DEEPER INTO POLITICAL GROUPS) . That though can be said of most of the Facebook polls. What bothers me more is that free speech stuff guaranteed in the constitution. Particularly a concern as what I write goes left, right and center.
If they can shut down a poll of Facebook can't they do us all a favor and enforce a blacklisting of Kevin Federline from all print and broadcast media?
Monday, September 28, 2009
Become a Fan!
Facebook is obsessed with my pledge of allegiance to causes, group and companies. Taking me further into their customized marketing matrix. Peer pressure has gone 21st century. Again omission from the attendance sheet for these groups could once again force me into outcast status.
It's not that there are not a lot of things I hold in great admiration. But really I can't bring myself to declare myself a fan of Chick-fil-a. Dictionary again pulled from the shelf declares a fan to be a devoted follower. My Facebook profile declares me a fan of House, right, Bob Ross, yep, System of Down, for sure, Shakespeare, Gordon Ramsey, Bruno, Mental Floss and a few more. What's the problem?
Walgreens? Today Facebook wanted me to shout to the world my allegiance to Walgreens. Cool I understand that Facebook's business model has to rely heavily on advertising so that the service can continue to be free, but REALLY, Walgreens?
Sci-Fi fan in me thinks that someone this will be used against me in seeking a security clearance, high profile job or damn even admission on a plane. DON'T HIT THE BUTTON!!!
It's not that there are not a lot of things I hold in great admiration. But really I can't bring myself to declare myself a fan of Chick-fil-a. Dictionary again pulled from the shelf declares a fan to be a devoted follower. My Facebook profile declares me a fan of House, right, Bob Ross, yep, System of Down, for sure, Shakespeare, Gordon Ramsey, Bruno, Mental Floss and a few more. What's the problem?
Walgreens? Today Facebook wanted me to shout to the world my allegiance to Walgreens. Cool I understand that Facebook's business model has to rely heavily on advertising so that the service can continue to be free, but REALLY, Walgreens?
Sci-Fi fan in me thinks that someone this will be used against me in seeking a security clearance, high profile job or damn even admission on a plane. DON'T HIT THE BUTTON!!!
Canine Banshee
Frequently as I watch The Dog Whisperer in wonder you would think I would have better behaved dogs. Nay, they are two idiots sharing half of the same brain. Doug and Didge have shown a stubborn resistance to all training techniques geared towards behavior improvement. Dumbly they stare back at you with floppy ears and tails curled in opposite directions. Hence affection is secured.
My home is guarded like a medieval castle by Doug the Pug AKA Douglas Fur. No threat goes unaddressed from the six year old, elderly speed walker or even stroller derby that goes by daily in varying intervals. If the two legged variety are the worse than the four legged are the funnest aspect of his work. Chipmunks, squirrels and the dread bunny fare no better. At any rate the price for defense has grown.
Letting the idiocy of my dogs behavior is trying on the poor neighbors just strolling by and regaining my pack leader authority is time consuming and frustrating. Work will continue and who knows in three years progress might be evident. My day dreams include acquiring one of those "intelligent" dogs in the coming years. Sort of like an upgrade in which the user instructions are less than fifty pages and are not some poor translation from the original text.
My home is guarded like a medieval castle by Doug the Pug AKA Douglas Fur. No threat goes unaddressed from the six year old, elderly speed walker or even stroller derby that goes by daily in varying intervals. If the two legged variety are the worse than the four legged are the funnest aspect of his work. Chipmunks, squirrels and the dread bunny fare no better. At any rate the price for defense has grown.
Letting the idiocy of my dogs behavior is trying on the poor neighbors just strolling by and regaining my pack leader authority is time consuming and frustrating. Work will continue and who knows in three years progress might be evident. My day dreams include acquiring one of those "intelligent" dogs in the coming years. Sort of like an upgrade in which the user instructions are less than fifty pages and are not some poor translation from the original text.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Rainy Days and Rambo
Kept waiting for the rain to stop yesterday while I was catching up with a weeks worth of laundry. When it relented my motivation for leaving the house and even procuring dinner had floated off. Channel surfing between running downstairs to complete the next circuit in the wash cycle I had left Jon alone with the remote. Generally the outcome is to return to him channel surfing for another ten minutes.
What though did my dear stumble upon? The first two Rambo movies back to back. Never once had I seen a Rambo movie and Jon thought this much to my detriment. Searches earlier for local entertainment had yielded nothing of interest and though Vanilla Ice was playing in Cleveland the drive could not be justified. At any rate nothing better was at the theater within walking distance to our house so why not.
Let me first begin this by saying for those of you who have not seen Rambo, Sly hardly talks during the movie, it allows an implication of depth, emotion and even dare say intelligence. I like Rambo, I like Rambo. I had to repeat because it seems unreal. In First Blood he was the just man who committed no crime until unlawfully detained. The second movie was just really a twist on the first. Basic theme of Man Vs ALL OTHERS. Rambo fights against the systems of oppression. It's like that Rage Against The Machine song....."What we don't know keeps the contracts alive an moving".
During the entire broadcast of the movie on the Spike channel a numbing loop of commercials were playing. Before going to bed I wanted a Dominios sub, a bucket of KFC chicken and starting wondering if Kimbo could take Rambo in a fight. Kimbo definitely.
Fight on Rambo! For today the Browns play and we all need to have a little faith. Okay not in the Browns but in the overcoming of violence, bad acting, and a small budget to make a film that I could eek some meaning out of twenty or so years later.
What though did my dear stumble upon? The first two Rambo movies back to back. Never once had I seen a Rambo movie and Jon thought this much to my detriment. Searches earlier for local entertainment had yielded nothing of interest and though Vanilla Ice was playing in Cleveland the drive could not be justified. At any rate nothing better was at the theater within walking distance to our house so why not.
Let me first begin this by saying for those of you who have not seen Rambo, Sly hardly talks during the movie, it allows an implication of depth, emotion and even dare say intelligence. I like Rambo, I like Rambo. I had to repeat because it seems unreal. In First Blood he was the just man who committed no crime until unlawfully detained. The second movie was just really a twist on the first. Basic theme of Man Vs ALL OTHERS. Rambo fights against the systems of oppression. It's like that Rage Against The Machine song....."What we don't know keeps the contracts alive an moving".
During the entire broadcast of the movie on the Spike channel a numbing loop of commercials were playing. Before going to bed I wanted a Dominios sub, a bucket of KFC chicken and starting wondering if Kimbo could take Rambo in a fight. Kimbo definitely.
Fight on Rambo! For today the Browns play and we all need to have a little faith. Okay not in the Browns but in the overcoming of violence, bad acting, and a small budget to make a film that I could eek some meaning out of twenty or so years later.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
The Pugmothers night on town
Starting at where we had our first date we began at the Blue Danube. Its a dive but the jukebox is great, the King and I was on the television, and the bar was stocked. Tea flavored tequila with a scorpion floating on the bottom was the beverage special of the day and my husband partook. Will they stop at nothing when thinking of things to add to tequila. What's next Paris Hilton offering her version of the classic with chihuahua's starring back at you from the abyss? Celebrity allows lapses in reason greater than the gulf in our national budget and the gdp.
Tommy Lee starred back at us from an ad in the other paper. All tatted up with no where to go except Columbus doing at show at BOMA for $15. Don't get me wrong I like tattoos but something about his pose in that picture made me think of abercrombie and fitch. Breaking into laughter unnatural I insist that is our destination at the end of the evening. Having convinced others while we stopped at two other spots to say hey and hang out with little seen company the husband relented. Giggling like a schoolgirl I was thrilled.
Arriving at the event and having paid $5 for parking we learned that the door price had doubled to $30. The joint was not hopping it was not at capacity and yet prices doubled. The law of supply and demand evidently took a leave of absence. Price was too steep when all a girl wanted to do was laugh and giggle while pointing at the object of humor. Maybe he doesn't mean to deliberately amuse me but he does all the same. Celebrity is funny. I am going to take your money but I want to be held above the judgement of the world while my face gives wide eye glances from the tabloids.
So the night ended dancing at Axis into the wee hours. Ah no notable mentions or big names. Just music and a fog machine.
Tommy Lee starred back at us from an ad in the other paper. All tatted up with no where to go except Columbus doing at show at BOMA for $15. Don't get me wrong I like tattoos but something about his pose in that picture made me think of abercrombie and fitch. Breaking into laughter unnatural I insist that is our destination at the end of the evening. Having convinced others while we stopped at two other spots to say hey and hang out with little seen company the husband relented. Giggling like a schoolgirl I was thrilled.
Arriving at the event and having paid $5 for parking we learned that the door price had doubled to $30. The joint was not hopping it was not at capacity and yet prices doubled. The law of supply and demand evidently took a leave of absence. Price was too steep when all a girl wanted to do was laugh and giggle while pointing at the object of humor. Maybe he doesn't mean to deliberately amuse me but he does all the same. Celebrity is funny. I am going to take your money but I want to be held above the judgement of the world while my face gives wide eye glances from the tabloids.
So the night ended dancing at Axis into the wee hours. Ah no notable mentions or big names. Just music and a fog machine.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
All the ladies in the house
Know when you've lost a few pounds and your trying on stuff that you've been blocking from memory for the last year. That five pounds does make a difference and we all know it. Well having lost five pounds I am trying on jeans in my closet this morning left and right. Putting on a pair I'm thinking damn I've lost weight and these don't look half bad. WTF, they are my husbands.
God again looks at my vanity, laughs, and smites me with a pair of Old Navy. Upside my husband is six foot and probably 152 lbs wet. Downside is that our jean sizes are not that different. I am a size four and I can get into his jeans, there is a lot of room but I can still get into his jeans. Jon has the metabolism of a field rabbit. Maybe there is a plus side.
As we age I should use his jeans as the guide of when I need to do double time at the gym. Today was going pretty cool. My hair is straighter although my lesson is still needed soooo bad. Still loving the electric toothbrush. Kids off for school without any confessions of omission regarding homework. Acknowledge inner nature - JEAN THING WILL BE STAYING WITH ME FOR SOME TIME!!
God again looks at my vanity, laughs, and smites me with a pair of Old Navy. Upside my husband is six foot and probably 152 lbs wet. Downside is that our jean sizes are not that different. I am a size four and I can get into his jeans, there is a lot of room but I can still get into his jeans. Jon has the metabolism of a field rabbit. Maybe there is a plus side.
As we age I should use his jeans as the guide of when I need to do double time at the gym. Today was going pretty cool. My hair is straighter although my lesson is still needed soooo bad. Still loving the electric toothbrush. Kids off for school without any confessions of omission regarding homework. Acknowledge inner nature - JEAN THING WILL BE STAYING WITH ME FOR SOME TIME!!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Baa!
Try as I may to avoid watching much television Hell's Kitchen comes out with a new episode or I really get a need to catch up on the four Daily Show's I haven't yet checked out. Local news and newspapers have forced me to revoke their news authority in my life. Although my efforts to embolden the inner rebellion produce some fruit I am still a sheep.
Aquaglobes are wonderful. Desperately I seek absolution because I want to do it again, snuggi beckons me gently. Its the poncho that will turn me into a moving piece of furniture. Unholy blanket thing which will allow me to not fuss with a blanket when I cannot reach the Cheez-it's with ease. Sitting in an easy chair looking like one of the Vulcan high council. Dare I go into this dark night?
I resist polo shirts and khakis which such a roar! Caving instead to a blanket with sleeves I can wear to cloak my apathy? Is my apathy showing? Has it become that large? Cannot help but think this has something to do with my realization that I had a fear response to a chipmunk in the house.
Aquaglobes are wonderful. Desperately I seek absolution because I want to do it again, snuggi beckons me gently. Its the poncho that will turn me into a moving piece of furniture. Unholy blanket thing which will allow me to not fuss with a blanket when I cannot reach the Cheez-it's with ease. Sitting in an easy chair looking like one of the Vulcan high council. Dare I go into this dark night?
I resist polo shirts and khakis which such a roar! Caving instead to a blanket with sleeves I can wear to cloak my apathy? Is my apathy showing? Has it become that large? Cannot help but think this has something to do with my realization that I had a fear response to a chipmunk in the house.
Girl School
Immediately let me begin by saying no where in this will be girls in plaid skirts innocently pursuing curious liaisons.
I must be the anti-girl. Not that I am anti-female or anything of that nature. I cannot do hair, at all, almost never. The only styles I can consistent pull off are pony tails and pig tails. So I guess I never made it past age five in hairstyles.
Got this super sexy do, left the stylist and looked marvelous. Recreating this effect takes all the special effects of Star Wars I think. I have product, the right brush (had no idea there would be a wrong one), hair dryer and mirror to observe my progress.
I lose interest faster than my hair loses body. This hair straightening thing sucks. Later this weeks I will be given lessons by a pro because at this point the thing on my head only appears to be getting bigger. After some hair exorcism I hope to get this under control.
Five inch high heels no problem. Eyeliner no problem. Hair - no idea in the world. Did I miss this day in girl school? I am convinced that there must be a place to complete our girl indoctrination. Tomboys and bookworms must have been purposefully deleted from the invite list. How do so many women know instinctively it seems, know how to do this shit?
Popular science, mechanics, and the economist are the only magazine of regular interest to me. So I miss out on the cool hair tips from Cosmo. Regarding the cult of celebrity as a plague I also stay ignorant of what who's her face doing with her hair. Which is why I had to reach out to be trained.
Star Trek and the Jetson's have failed me. By this point in life I really need to just stick my head in some 50's dryer contraption and come out gorgeous. All other attempts are proving futile. Lets hope the lessons work out or it's the Borg.
I must be the anti-girl. Not that I am anti-female or anything of that nature. I cannot do hair, at all, almost never. The only styles I can consistent pull off are pony tails and pig tails. So I guess I never made it past age five in hairstyles.
Got this super sexy do, left the stylist and looked marvelous. Recreating this effect takes all the special effects of Star Wars I think. I have product, the right brush (had no idea there would be a wrong one), hair dryer and mirror to observe my progress.
I lose interest faster than my hair loses body. This hair straightening thing sucks. Later this weeks I will be given lessons by a pro because at this point the thing on my head only appears to be getting bigger. After some hair exorcism I hope to get this under control.
Five inch high heels no problem. Eyeliner no problem. Hair - no idea in the world. Did I miss this day in girl school? I am convinced that there must be a place to complete our girl indoctrination. Tomboys and bookworms must have been purposefully deleted from the invite list. How do so many women know instinctively it seems, know how to do this shit?
Popular science, mechanics, and the economist are the only magazine of regular interest to me. So I miss out on the cool hair tips from Cosmo. Regarding the cult of celebrity as a plague I also stay ignorant of what who's her face doing with her hair. Which is why I had to reach out to be trained.
Star Trek and the Jetson's have failed me. By this point in life I really need to just stick my head in some 50's dryer contraption and come out gorgeous. All other attempts are proving futile. Lets hope the lessons work out or it's the Borg.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Call me Indy!
Indiana Jones and I have much in common, really, not just that we both like whips. Archeologist sift through literally mounds searching for artifacts worthwhile of preservation. Countless hours of toil for few rewards. Likewise I labor.
My work begins after the female and male minors head off to be institutionalized. This site is secured by two thirty pound balls of fury and fur. Tree trimming services, cable salespeople and even the postal service cannot cross the threshold of my work site. At first my work begins in detailing the destruction brought by the night prior.
Cans, socks, shoes, bones, and snugly blankets for watching television are littered throughout the lower level. Objects such as these can be easily classified. Exclusive of the writings they leave behind the work is rather mystifying.
School bulletins, fund raising forms, cub scout print outs, homework, mail, endless pages of little girl art work. Improperly removing an item from the collection can be catastrophic and result in the wailing of many a soul. Sifting, translating, referring to outside experts. When it begins feel fruitless I think, what would Indy do? Must beat them at their own game. AH! Tie hefty bags to their waist and insist that all material be carried on their body from the time they get home until they go to bed.
My work begins after the female and male minors head off to be institutionalized. This site is secured by two thirty pound balls of fury and fur. Tree trimming services, cable salespeople and even the postal service cannot cross the threshold of my work site. At first my work begins in detailing the destruction brought by the night prior.
Cans, socks, shoes, bones, and snugly blankets for watching television are littered throughout the lower level. Objects such as these can be easily classified. Exclusive of the writings they leave behind the work is rather mystifying.
School bulletins, fund raising forms, cub scout print outs, homework, mail, endless pages of little girl art work. Improperly removing an item from the collection can be catastrophic and result in the wailing of many a soul. Sifting, translating, referring to outside experts. When it begins feel fruitless I think, what would Indy do? Must beat them at their own game. AH! Tie hefty bags to their waist and insist that all material be carried on their body from the time they get home until they go to bed.
Viva la Volition!!!
Huge and often shelved version of Websters defines volition as "The act of willing; exercise of the will". The same volume describes free will as "The power of self determination; the capacity to choose freely between alternatives". This has noting to do with the fear response I had to the chipmunk of prior days I swear.
What does this mean? Why am I yet again rambling? Yesterday while listening to Rage Against the Machine while in traffic, which I recommend never you do, in front of me a car did that whole I am not going to do my time in this long line but instead jump toward the front thing. Let me preface by saying that I understand there are times when this is necessary do to unfamiliarity, forgetfulness and sometimes just bad timing. Few things irk me more than drivers who fail to plan or plan to jump the damn line I have been spending fifteen minutes with the bumper to bumper so close one think a condom might be necessary.
This situation is external to me and the only damn part I can control is my reaction. Wishing for telekinesis fails to produce result. My back unknown to be had been tensing in my seat. Line jumping not cool; me reacting in this way equally uncool. Turned off the radio. Deep breath. Quit wishing ill will.
Yesterday compressed a series of events outside of my control before 7p like some ultimate showdown. Me against ME!! AGHH. Adulthood intruding further into my brain like some worm. Don't reach the fun parts, don't reach the fun parts!
Accepting that more external events are outside of my control and I need to stop looking to alter them but focus on modifying my reaction to deal with the situation will make for a less stressful life. Most of my twenties now make sense.
I, nikita, promise to leave the Rage Against the Machine for when I am cleaning house. To focus my rebellion more against myself than the system. So that I might pursue a life as free of external constraints as much as possible. Stress constrains and is mostly my reaction to the external. Another example of how I can rob myself of my freedom with greater ease than anyone else can. I vow to stop this thief.
What does this mean? Why am I yet again rambling? Yesterday while listening to Rage Against the Machine while in traffic, which I recommend never you do, in front of me a car did that whole I am not going to do my time in this long line but instead jump toward the front thing. Let me preface by saying that I understand there are times when this is necessary do to unfamiliarity, forgetfulness and sometimes just bad timing. Few things irk me more than drivers who fail to plan or plan to jump the damn line I have been spending fifteen minutes with the bumper to bumper so close one think a condom might be necessary.
This situation is external to me and the only damn part I can control is my reaction. Wishing for telekinesis fails to produce result. My back unknown to be had been tensing in my seat. Line jumping not cool; me reacting in this way equally uncool. Turned off the radio. Deep breath. Quit wishing ill will.
Yesterday compressed a series of events outside of my control before 7p like some ultimate showdown. Me against ME!! AGHH. Adulthood intruding further into my brain like some worm. Don't reach the fun parts, don't reach the fun parts!
Accepting that more external events are outside of my control and I need to stop looking to alter them but focus on modifying my reaction to deal with the situation will make for a less stressful life. Most of my twenties now make sense.
I, nikita, promise to leave the Rage Against the Machine for when I am cleaning house. To focus my rebellion more against myself than the system. So that I might pursue a life as free of external constraints as much as possible. Stress constrains and is mostly my reaction to the external. Another example of how I can rob myself of my freedom with greater ease than anyone else can. I vow to stop this thief.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Status Update: Chipmunk Dead
So I write boldly earlier in the day regarding the Roller Derby Girls and there ability to roll with the punches literally. I either need to join immediately or accept that I am a cowardly bitch.
So I was freaking about the chipmunk thing. Mostly because there are a few solutions. Cats find chipmunk and I find carcass. Chipmunk hides leaving a trail of poo to its eventual resting place in home. Chipmunk who I believe to be of a kind and friendly nature and I meet and as I try to assist he bites me. Decide to take a shower and chill out a bit upstairs. Jon believed at this time the chipmunks location to be in back living room.
We stayed up til 3a, woke up at 8 and got to a big family brunch at 9a and then drove the two hours home. Warm shower calls me. Water is soothing and I think what the hell I'll blow dry my hair and try to keep up this new do rather than let it turn into a fro. Weezul the cat is hanging out in the upstairs bath with me.
Something isn't right, he is way too interested in the bath storage cart. I being cautious still close all the drawers so if the chipmunk is a stowaway he will be safe until I can get the cat out of the room. I turn on the hair dryer and my life becomes an episode of Tom and Jerry. Chipmunk was behind storage cart and took off for the sanctuary offered by our closet. I scream like a girl and jump on the chair in the bathroom hair dryer in hand wearing cozy clothes.
Second scream to interrupt his game. Jon comes upstairs and stalks the chipmunk in the closet. He is hanging out on my boots, climbs on my wedding dress, up his pants. As Jon shakes his pant hanger to loosen the chipmunk I am back almost two years ago.
Sadly this isn't the first chipmunk episode in our shared life together. When we first met the cats had a chipmunk trapped in the kitchen and as Jon was going on a mad cleaning spree to find out what the funk smell was he scared the chipmunk and in ran into the laundry room and up a didgeridoo. Jon takes the didgeridoo outside and genius that I am I suggest that he try blowing it out. Being brighter than myself he suggest that it could run up the instrument and into his mouth. He in the full view of the neighbors and the nursing home that backed up to his apartment shook the chipmunk from his didgeridoo. That the cops weren't called on suspicious drug induced behavior still surprises me.
Jon got the chipmunk in a box and was escorting it out of our bathroom. I was on the chair with wet hair laughing my ass off on the verge of tears. I need to join the roller derby girls or take up that knife fighting stuff the R.E. teaches. Chipmunk escapes box into dogs mouth. Chipmunk dies. Jon returns to game. Humbled greatly I realize I must publicly declare my cowardice immediately. This is not the woman I want to be.
So I was freaking about the chipmunk thing. Mostly because there are a few solutions. Cats find chipmunk and I find carcass. Chipmunk hides leaving a trail of poo to its eventual resting place in home. Chipmunk who I believe to be of a kind and friendly nature and I meet and as I try to assist he bites me. Decide to take a shower and chill out a bit upstairs. Jon believed at this time the chipmunks location to be in back living room.
We stayed up til 3a, woke up at 8 and got to a big family brunch at 9a and then drove the two hours home. Warm shower calls me. Water is soothing and I think what the hell I'll blow dry my hair and try to keep up this new do rather than let it turn into a fro. Weezul the cat is hanging out in the upstairs bath with me.
Something isn't right, he is way too interested in the bath storage cart. I being cautious still close all the drawers so if the chipmunk is a stowaway he will be safe until I can get the cat out of the room. I turn on the hair dryer and my life becomes an episode of Tom and Jerry. Chipmunk was behind storage cart and took off for the sanctuary offered by our closet. I scream like a girl and jump on the chair in the bathroom hair dryer in hand wearing cozy clothes.
Second scream to interrupt his game. Jon comes upstairs and stalks the chipmunk in the closet. He is hanging out on my boots, climbs on my wedding dress, up his pants. As Jon shakes his pant hanger to loosen the chipmunk I am back almost two years ago.
Sadly this isn't the first chipmunk episode in our shared life together. When we first met the cats had a chipmunk trapped in the kitchen and as Jon was going on a mad cleaning spree to find out what the funk smell was he scared the chipmunk and in ran into the laundry room and up a didgeridoo. Jon takes the didgeridoo outside and genius that I am I suggest that he try blowing it out. Being brighter than myself he suggest that it could run up the instrument and into his mouth. He in the full view of the neighbors and the nursing home that backed up to his apartment shook the chipmunk from his didgeridoo. That the cops weren't called on suspicious drug induced behavior still surprises me.
Jon got the chipmunk in a box and was escorting it out of our bathroom. I was on the chair with wet hair laughing my ass off on the verge of tears. I need to join the roller derby girls or take up that knife fighting stuff the R.E. teaches. Chipmunk escapes box into dogs mouth. Chipmunk dies. Jon returns to game. Humbled greatly I realize I must publicly declare my cowardice immediately. This is not the woman I want to be.
BAD CHIPMUNK KARMA
After posting my latest blog, kid you not, three minutes later the cat brings a chipmunk into the living room. This one is living, we have managed to get the cat to drop the poor thing. At this time the chipmunk is unmutilated and location is unknown but thought to be in the back living room.
Beginning to have bad feelings toward the cat.
Beginning to have bad feelings toward the cat.
www.sk8intheface.com
The nineteenth amendment of 1920 granted women the right to vote (US Const. 19th Amendment, 1920). English common law did not allow for married women to retain any property rights. A series of Married Women Property Acts passed in varying forms through every state in the union throughout the 1900’s (Congress). Rights had been granted but equality still not yet gained. In 1950 34 percent of women were in the workforce in 2000 that number has soared to sixty percent (Toosi). At any rate while our rights grew with equal force we were reminded to be a lady. The Burning River Roller Girls have opportunity to be my new heroes.
Corsetry was traded in for girdles which gave way to push up bras. Progress in the legal and working world could only do so much. At home and in personal relationships the roles of women have not changed much. We are to be career focused while baking Martha Stewart quality cupcakes caring for the children we oft leave to the care of others and be breathtakingly beautiful while doing so. We cannot serve in combat, if we’re ambitious at work we become the bitch, and kickboxing is only for the health club.
Roller derby girls give a one finger salute to the powers that be which work to suppress the authentic women in each of us. Throwing elbows, taking hits, losing teeth, and bruising the legs that carry progress further these women defy what a lady is. Always wanting to have gone before to a game now I must after my husband and I spent an evening with R.E. Lewis one of the impassioned followers of the sport. He had a website to show, a story to tell, and massive respect for who these women were on and off the roller derby floor.
Profit motive is absent as is concern with acknowledgment for the amount of work and time taken in putting together what has got to be the most unreserved wide angle view of the sport. Never heard of roller derby or the rules? Present. Player interviews and insights, pictures, and passion are everywhere. An hour later I know that I have got to go to derby, support it and most of all take my daughter.
Roller derby girls are the Rosie the Riveter for our generation.
Works Cited
Toosi, Mitra. "A Century of Change, the U.S. labor force 1950-2050." May 2002. www.bls.gov. 20 September 2009.
Corsetry was traded in for girdles which gave way to push up bras. Progress in the legal and working world could only do so much. At home and in personal relationships the roles of women have not changed much. We are to be career focused while baking Martha Stewart quality cupcakes caring for the children we oft leave to the care of others and be breathtakingly beautiful while doing so. We cannot serve in combat, if we’re ambitious at work we become the bitch, and kickboxing is only for the health club.
Roller derby girls give a one finger salute to the powers that be which work to suppress the authentic women in each of us. Throwing elbows, taking hits, losing teeth, and bruising the legs that carry progress further these women defy what a lady is. Always wanting to have gone before to a game now I must after my husband and I spent an evening with R.E. Lewis one of the impassioned followers of the sport. He had a website to show, a story to tell, and massive respect for who these women were on and off the roller derby floor.
Profit motive is absent as is concern with acknowledgment for the amount of work and time taken in putting together what has got to be the most unreserved wide angle view of the sport. Never heard of roller derby or the rules? Present. Player interviews and insights, pictures, and passion are everywhere. An hour later I know that I have got to go to derby, support it and most of all take my daughter.
Roller derby girls are the Rosie the Riveter for our generation.
Works Cited
Toosi, Mitra. "A Century of Change, the U.S. labor force 1950-2050." May 2002. www.bls.gov. 20 September 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Lunch - Champagne and Sushi
Sushi and champagne lunches either turn your stomach or lead to a sexy do. Upon asking a friend if they had any lunch plans I was informed that they had none and would be willing to pick me up on the Harley and venture downtown! Having been a while since I had been on a bike ride I followed my immediate instinct to put my airplane arms out for at least a little stretch of road and think not of the bugs hurling to their death upon my helmet.
As I had neither burden of driving home or the picking up the check I ordered a champagne cocktail. Yes the drink oft relegated to the elderly and apparently me. Having not had indulged in one in ages it was an excellent compliment to a lovely lunch. I mentioned my grand attempts at forcing myself outside of comfort zone despite the protest of my internal coward and the jeans that said otherwise regarding their fit. So my friend had the waiter select our entire meal. It was a surprise, spicy, sometimes crunchy and nothing we would have ordered it was perfect.
My name is Nikita and I have visible roots showing. Lots of reasons why it had not been taken care of but they were there. White hair strands in a Mexican standoff for the attention span of my Harley driving friend. Gracefully I was informed I had joined a new club, HIT. Like I looked HIT with some WTF. If needing elaboration ask a seventeen year old.
I was told after lunch we would be going to a SURPRISE destination. Surprise! Immediately I regress to my five year old self and start interrogating. OOOHH, will we be going so I can my nose pierced again or maybe get a tattoo? Cause Harley ain't never taken me to a bookstore or to a lecture. In the kindest of words which can be given over way spicy noodles and my roots starring him down he said we were going to walk down the road to the first salon and I was going to be left there until something had been done with what I was calling the hair on my head.
Mixed feelings. Super cool getting my hair taken care of at no cost to myself by one of the trendy cooler than thou salons. Damn I have suburban mom written all over me. All I needed was my school sponsored coupon book and thirteen pictures of my kids to accost strangers with.
Having exited from having my hair done in a spellbinding manner I wanted to sing from the top of my lungs "I Feel Pretty" and twirl about. Voicing this want I was immediately reminded that I was essentially tone deaf, would cause pain to others, and would detract from the sexy new do. Truth is painful at times.
Lesson learned. All of the afternoon was unplanned and completely spontaneous. Planning everything leaves nothing to chance and without chance life is dry.
As I had neither burden of driving home or the picking up the check I ordered a champagne cocktail. Yes the drink oft relegated to the elderly and apparently me. Having not had indulged in one in ages it was an excellent compliment to a lovely lunch. I mentioned my grand attempts at forcing myself outside of comfort zone despite the protest of my internal coward and the jeans that said otherwise regarding their fit. So my friend had the waiter select our entire meal. It was a surprise, spicy, sometimes crunchy and nothing we would have ordered it was perfect.
My name is Nikita and I have visible roots showing. Lots of reasons why it had not been taken care of but they were there. White hair strands in a Mexican standoff for the attention span of my Harley driving friend. Gracefully I was informed I had joined a new club, HIT. Like I looked HIT with some WTF. If needing elaboration ask a seventeen year old.
I was told after lunch we would be going to a SURPRISE destination. Surprise! Immediately I regress to my five year old self and start interrogating. OOOHH, will we be going so I can my nose pierced again or maybe get a tattoo? Cause Harley ain't never taken me to a bookstore or to a lecture. In the kindest of words which can be given over way spicy noodles and my roots starring him down he said we were going to walk down the road to the first salon and I was going to be left there until something had been done with what I was calling the hair on my head.
Mixed feelings. Super cool getting my hair taken care of at no cost to myself by one of the trendy cooler than thou salons. Damn I have suburban mom written all over me. All I needed was my school sponsored coupon book and thirteen pictures of my kids to accost strangers with.
Having exited from having my hair done in a spellbinding manner I wanted to sing from the top of my lungs "I Feel Pretty" and twirl about. Voicing this want I was immediately reminded that I was essentially tone deaf, would cause pain to others, and would detract from the sexy new do. Truth is painful at times.
Lesson learned. All of the afternoon was unplanned and completely spontaneous. Planning everything leaves nothing to chance and without chance life is dry.
Friday, September 18, 2009
No Flag No Country - Eddie Izzard
Suburban life confuses me at times, leaves me speechless, and laughing out loud often. Could be that I am writing this while listening to Courtney Love sing "Doll Parts". Not a deliberate act but the grace of the music channel which on this morning is make forcing me to endure something trite. So what the hell is up with all these flags?
Should it be the American flag flown I would not be looking quizzically at my neighbors home. Last month it was a flag displaying a topiary. Thinking it was a proclamation of her domination over nature and more over her shrubbery I let it pass without much thought.
For a brief time it was a festive fall print. Okay, okay so maybe she is warding leaves from falling in her yard. It could be a cursed object with such power. Admittedly I watch way too much science fiction. With any breath left I will pursue that course still so I was watching to see if any leaf did dare fall.
Yet it changed again. Is she in the flag of the month club or what? Now she screaming her support for OSU in a sun faded flag. Enough is enough. I have a pirate flag in my basement which when we first moved in I did not yield to the urge to display my colors. It had something to do with not wanting to declare our intentions to sink property values with our used cars in the driveway, half breed dogs barking in the yard, and the letting lose of the chipmunk killing cats.
All of those plagues have been let loose and I can fear now by flying my flag is the loss of those great inner city youth kids who come around with alarming frequency to sell candy bars. Fantastic kids working towards a goal which I applaud - but $3 a bar does make it hard to eat the candy between laughs of absurdity. Near our front door is the flag mount, tomorrow I match her flag.
Should it be the American flag flown I would not be looking quizzically at my neighbors home. Last month it was a flag displaying a topiary. Thinking it was a proclamation of her domination over nature and more over her shrubbery I let it pass without much thought.
For a brief time it was a festive fall print. Okay, okay so maybe she is warding leaves from falling in her yard. It could be a cursed object with such power. Admittedly I watch way too much science fiction. With any breath left I will pursue that course still so I was watching to see if any leaf did dare fall.
Yet it changed again. Is she in the flag of the month club or what? Now she screaming her support for OSU in a sun faded flag. Enough is enough. I have a pirate flag in my basement which when we first moved in I did not yield to the urge to display my colors. It had something to do with not wanting to declare our intentions to sink property values with our used cars in the driveway, half breed dogs barking in the yard, and the letting lose of the chipmunk killing cats.
All of those plagues have been let loose and I can fear now by flying my flag is the loss of those great inner city youth kids who come around with alarming frequency to sell candy bars. Fantastic kids working towards a goal which I applaud - but $3 a bar does make it hard to eat the candy between laughs of absurdity. Near our front door is the flag mount, tomorrow I match her flag.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Return of the King!
Jon returns today from a week in California. His work does not require that he travel excessively but often enough so that the entire household feels the loss of his presence. Puppies are not so jubilant, kids are not so bouncy, cats are still indifferent, and I show my missing him in maybe unusual ways. Eating cheez-its’s in bed then cleaning the sheets Thursday evening so he’ll never know. Watching all the period drama and chick flicks I can fit in once the kids are in bed. Wearing his clothes, nothing is sacred, boxers and t-shirts. Not shaving at all while he is gone at all. It’s medieval; both the act and the lack of it.
Solitude is oft alluring but seldom lives up to the promise made. Time is a commodity. One which should not be hoarded or it isolates yet also not given too freely or it will overwhelm the giver. Spent for the last few days I was in research and housework during the day and with the kids in the evenings. Given the siren call of the television during the day I believe I chose well. The evenings were filled with homework and art classes and cub scouts. When I stopped moving I missed him most.
Science Now is nothing without being able to interrupt and question him much to his displeasure. The twist my research paper took lacks an audience to thrill. Cuddling with the dogs is an option however they fart. When he leaves for these week long audits I realize how much I rely upon him to act as a counter balance to the day, a partner in successes, or as an ever present reminder that one is never whole. It’s infinitely divisible but on its own its wholeness is a lie. To be whole is to not be lacking. When judged alone many could say they do not lack but when in judged in relation to others masses find that they do. A book is not a collection of knowledge merely a part of it. We are all parts.
One of the many roles I play in life is my part in Jon’s. His wife, lover, confident, and it goes on endlessly. Prior to meeting Jon I held the belief that I might very well have been meant by our creator, by any name you chose, to walk alone. To lean more heavily on my children and family in a manner which asked much more of them then should be, placing more emphasis on my career and education, desperately trying somehow to lay out the weight of my life so that it would not crush me.
After much crying I would rationalize that I would be stronger eventually and that to accept and even endorse the deprivation of a partner in this life would still leave me whole. A whole mess.
Its been years and this has been the most difficult and rewarding relationship of my life. I have to communicate when I don’t want to, compromise when I don’t feel like it, and listen when I want to scream. Maybe there is hope for me after all.
On a more serious note let me advise you that Cheez-It Duoz should never be purchased in Zesty Queso or Cheddar Blanco – they suck. Not like a little but more like damn this is a useless food for comfort. It does taste of something institutionalized used to purify your palate.
Solitude is oft alluring but seldom lives up to the promise made. Time is a commodity. One which should not be hoarded or it isolates yet also not given too freely or it will overwhelm the giver. Spent for the last few days I was in research and housework during the day and with the kids in the evenings. Given the siren call of the television during the day I believe I chose well. The evenings were filled with homework and art classes and cub scouts. When I stopped moving I missed him most.
Science Now is nothing without being able to interrupt and question him much to his displeasure. The twist my research paper took lacks an audience to thrill. Cuddling with the dogs is an option however they fart. When he leaves for these week long audits I realize how much I rely upon him to act as a counter balance to the day, a partner in successes, or as an ever present reminder that one is never whole. It’s infinitely divisible but on its own its wholeness is a lie. To be whole is to not be lacking. When judged alone many could say they do not lack but when in judged in relation to others masses find that they do. A book is not a collection of knowledge merely a part of it. We are all parts.
One of the many roles I play in life is my part in Jon’s. His wife, lover, confident, and it goes on endlessly. Prior to meeting Jon I held the belief that I might very well have been meant by our creator, by any name you chose, to walk alone. To lean more heavily on my children and family in a manner which asked much more of them then should be, placing more emphasis on my career and education, desperately trying somehow to lay out the weight of my life so that it would not crush me.
After much crying I would rationalize that I would be stronger eventually and that to accept and even endorse the deprivation of a partner in this life would still leave me whole. A whole mess.
Its been years and this has been the most difficult and rewarding relationship of my life. I have to communicate when I don’t want to, compromise when I don’t feel like it, and listen when I want to scream. Maybe there is hope for me after all.
On a more serious note let me advise you that Cheez-It Duoz should never be purchased in Zesty Queso or Cheddar Blanco – they suck. Not like a little but more like damn this is a useless food for comfort. It does taste of something institutionalized used to purify your palate.
Research Paper!!
Finished, without a panic attack!
Started writing paper and the further that I got into the more I changed direction. Not entirely but I did almost hit a few signs. Death of the protestant work ethic. As much as I hold personally certain that everyone should be enlightened by the conclusions I have made regarding the subject. I will not post! When we seek to entertain the ego we often are made the fool ourselves. So says I!
Goal 4, St Francis of Assissi
Will finish reading the book. How everything fell into disorder and infighting amongst the devout Franciscans and how brother, cardinal, and pope were turned on each other! Will finish once I take a shower, brush the hair that refuses to be ignored in a large puffy mass on my head, and change out of my "I want to die alone" sweatpants.
Started writing paper and the further that I got into the more I changed direction. Not entirely but I did almost hit a few signs. Death of the protestant work ethic. As much as I hold personally certain that everyone should be enlightened by the conclusions I have made regarding the subject. I will not post! When we seek to entertain the ego we often are made the fool ourselves. So says I!
Goal 4, St Francis of Assissi
Will finish reading the book. How everything fell into disorder and infighting amongst the devout Franciscans and how brother, cardinal, and pope were turned on each other! Will finish once I take a shower, brush the hair that refuses to be ignored in a large puffy mass on my head, and change out of my "I want to die alone" sweatpants.
FALL
Leaves are changing already. PBS at one point in time informed me that the leaves change as a way of the tree preserving itself as its water supply has been depleted and it needs to shed the leaves in order to survive and bloom again in the summer. So depletion of vital resources requires the short term shedding of adornment and stuff of the like so that survival is ensured. So this fall I have shed a lot. Wallpaper, friends, stuff in the basement, and soon the plant whose death I have refused to come to terms with. I love you baby I admit I killed it.
So nature is not static so why has my self concept been? It has changed a bit here and there but mostly nudged along by external forces. The bonfire, new job, or the kids growing up and comfort has reduced my internal striving for a better understanding of self my relationship with the world in which I live. No worries anyone I am not planning a tree fort to live in so I can be closer with nature or a long term stay on a commune so I can feel the oneness of it all. My electric toothbrush would never be accepted at the commune initiation rite; I so adore the toothbrush. It is like having a little dentist living in my bathroom just waiting, waiting to brush my teeth in the most hygienic manner possible. No commune.
So many meaningful pursuits have left me questioning the reason why I am pursuing them in the first damn place. More than that though, am I getting closer or further away from the person that I want to be? So everything changes and nothing remains constant. So if there is no standing still why am I?
Tonight Caiti goes to art lessons and Chris and I will head off for a cub scout meeting. Meaningful pursuits for the development of children will not be questioned in this examination of self. Why I have not gotten to the post office and mailed the necklace Caiti made for my Mom will be. I did mail a picture today so I will give credit for that. But really the post office is only three miles away. I could shed some of my fall foliage by walking my ass down there. Until I can perfect the star trek transport system (come on my kids shoes have wheels built in……must keep hope it will arrive on Amazon in time for Christmas) I must suck it up and go to the antiquated post office place.
Goals for tomorrow!
1. Suck it up and go to the stupid post office
2. Finally remove the carcass of the rubber plant and stop deluding myself into thinking it can be saved, keep the planter, it’s nice and can be reused.
3. Finish research paper without a panic attack
4. Finish reading the book on St. Francis of Assisi that I have ignored for three weeks because after his death it got really, really boring – STARTED IT – FINISH IT
5. Finally order a big fat copy of my favorite wedding picture.
SINCE WRITING THIS RANT LAST NIGHT FIRST TWO OBJECTIVES HAVE BEEN MET!!!!
So nature is not static so why has my self concept been? It has changed a bit here and there but mostly nudged along by external forces. The bonfire, new job, or the kids growing up and comfort has reduced my internal striving for a better understanding of self my relationship with the world in which I live. No worries anyone I am not planning a tree fort to live in so I can be closer with nature or a long term stay on a commune so I can feel the oneness of it all. My electric toothbrush would never be accepted at the commune initiation rite; I so adore the toothbrush. It is like having a little dentist living in my bathroom just waiting, waiting to brush my teeth in the most hygienic manner possible. No commune.
So many meaningful pursuits have left me questioning the reason why I am pursuing them in the first damn place. More than that though, am I getting closer or further away from the person that I want to be? So everything changes and nothing remains constant. So if there is no standing still why am I?
Tonight Caiti goes to art lessons and Chris and I will head off for a cub scout meeting. Meaningful pursuits for the development of children will not be questioned in this examination of self. Why I have not gotten to the post office and mailed the necklace Caiti made for my Mom will be. I did mail a picture today so I will give credit for that. But really the post office is only three miles away. I could shed some of my fall foliage by walking my ass down there. Until I can perfect the star trek transport system (come on my kids shoes have wheels built in……must keep hope it will arrive on Amazon in time for Christmas) I must suck it up and go to the antiquated post office place.
Goals for tomorrow!
1. Suck it up and go to the stupid post office
2. Finally remove the carcass of the rubber plant and stop deluding myself into thinking it can be saved, keep the planter, it’s nice and can be reused.
3. Finish research paper without a panic attack
4. Finish reading the book on St. Francis of Assisi that I have ignored for three weeks because after his death it got really, really boring – STARTED IT – FINISH IT
5. Finally order a big fat copy of my favorite wedding picture.
SINCE WRITING THIS RANT LAST NIGHT FIRST TWO OBJECTIVES HAVE BEEN MET!!!!
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Paint stripping
So here I am continuing to strip, this time a built in bookcase that has been painted the most bulimic shade of baby blue one could imagine. Lesson learned, I will spend more time stripping and sanding the bookcase then it's worth. New plan, prime the bookcase to be repainted. Hardly to I suppose that others will come to peer at the life's work that taking this bookcase back to original would require. I humbly step back. Back to the hardware store - it's becoming as addictive as delegating to the children the task of cat box duty. Seven months and I haven't touched or smelled a cat box, worth the $1 a week! Feed a starving child or not be bothered with a cat box? So I lose to Sting and Bono the humanitarian of the year award again.
Remember the positives in life!
1. Cats have not killed anything in days!!! Yeah chipmunks!
2. Dogs are showing signs of not getting any dumber!!!
3. Kids are back to school and doing well, backpacks are coming home, homework is done, no one is crying.
4. Husband is patient with my need to improve our home, he's in California for the week and that helps.
5. Aquaglobes!!!
6. Netflix! I am no longer judged by the blockbuster dude when I rent musicals from the fifties and sixties. Uncultured little shit.
7. 1970's mint condition Starship Trooper game purchased for $10
8. Shelves and shelves of books
9. Erasmus
10. My dad's unconditional support of me, even when he has no clue what weird ass thing I'm talking about
Remember the positives in life!
1. Cats have not killed anything in days!!! Yeah chipmunks!
2. Dogs are showing signs of not getting any dumber!!!
3. Kids are back to school and doing well, backpacks are coming home, homework is done, no one is crying.
4. Husband is patient with my need to improve our home, he's in California for the week and that helps.
5. Aquaglobes!!!
6. Netflix! I am no longer judged by the blockbuster dude when I rent musicals from the fifties and sixties. Uncultured little shit.
7. 1970's mint condition Starship Trooper game purchased for $10
8. Shelves and shelves of books
9. Erasmus
10. My dad's unconditional support of me, even when he has no clue what weird ass thing I'm talking about
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
A word from our sponsor
Zig Ziglar is apparently fifth grade curriculum these days. Yet another school year begins with the female child bringing home a catalog of useless/overpriced items. Her heart has been set upon the glory of taking home the biggest prize and warding off the effects of a stale economy that is attacking her school's media department. REDEMPTION!!! I can order a subscription of Time magazine! Not so bad after all. But she requires so many other items to be purchased and this is the only one I can purchase in good conscience.
This leads to a heart to heart. She really, like super, really wants to earn enough points for a gift certificate. After much probing the gift certificate is worth only ten dollars. To win that elusive prize I would have to spend in excess of one hundred dollars. She receives my watered down lecture on cost/benefit analysis. We both decide that she would rather clean the garage for twenty dollars and forget the rest of the fund raising stuff for this week, for this round.
This leads to a heart to heart. She really, like super, really wants to earn enough points for a gift certificate. After much probing the gift certificate is worth only ten dollars. To win that elusive prize I would have to spend in excess of one hundred dollars. She receives my watered down lecture on cost/benefit analysis. We both decide that she would rather clean the garage for twenty dollars and forget the rest of the fund raising stuff for this week, for this round.
Monday, September 14, 2009
From a backyard barbeque to stripping wallpaper
When working with stress we all have coping mechanisms which vary by individual some drink, are drawn to recreational or pharmaceutical distractions, or in my case become some warped version of what would happen if Bob Villa and Martha Stewart got it on. Keeping busy in healthy productive ways keeps me from dwelling and becoming depressed and curing my depression from a shoe shopping frenzy the likes of which my husband would likely never forgive.
The aforementioned house that we purchased in February was gotten for a steal as a result of the design theme which sent countless others screaming; we call it brass Navajo. Pastel Indian prints circa 1987 bordered and wallpapered every damn room. Each light plate cover, electrical outlet cover, or cover of any damn sort is brass, a showy, shiny, mocking brass. From time to time when stress would creep into my life I would put every fiber of my being into removing the native’s from our homestead.
Last Friday I learned that with only a drivers license and a credit card that I could obtain for a glorious twenty four hours – a wallpaper steamer!!! For like only twenty bucks I could finish the last room in the house, the only one that was floor to ceiling. The instructions given for its use were about two minutes in duration while detaching the steamy thing from the base took me ten minutes in the bathroom while I repeated to myself over and over again that I was not calling a lifeline.
When my husband came home apparently the half done bathroom inspired in him the same drive to be rid of the contemptuous paper. The machine was returned the next day. Both of us bitching about our backs, shoulders, and everything else – but it was done. While feeling empowered that the task set forth was overcome I am concerned that the same rental store would provide for a small charge an arsenal of power tools.
It is a comforting thought to think that we are judged by the collective of our lives. A good life lead is something that comes about in a manner of averaging. Stripping wallpaper from one room means nothing but from the whole house means more. Going further and bringing the house into a contemporary state by spackling, sanding, painting, getting new floors, and re-tooling the cabinets surely would increase the collective output of all those singular tasks exponentially. The average value of the home increases in spite of the small things overlooked as the greater tasks were performed.
The aforementioned house that we purchased in February was gotten for a steal as a result of the design theme which sent countless others screaming; we call it brass Navajo. Pastel Indian prints circa 1987 bordered and wallpapered every damn room. Each light plate cover, electrical outlet cover, or cover of any damn sort is brass, a showy, shiny, mocking brass. From time to time when stress would creep into my life I would put every fiber of my being into removing the native’s from our homestead.
Last Friday I learned that with only a drivers license and a credit card that I could obtain for a glorious twenty four hours – a wallpaper steamer!!! For like only twenty bucks I could finish the last room in the house, the only one that was floor to ceiling. The instructions given for its use were about two minutes in duration while detaching the steamy thing from the base took me ten minutes in the bathroom while I repeated to myself over and over again that I was not calling a lifeline.
When my husband came home apparently the half done bathroom inspired in him the same drive to be rid of the contemptuous paper. The machine was returned the next day. Both of us bitching about our backs, shoulders, and everything else – but it was done. While feeling empowered that the task set forth was overcome I am concerned that the same rental store would provide for a small charge an arsenal of power tools.
It is a comforting thought to think that we are judged by the collective of our lives. A good life lead is something that comes about in a manner of averaging. Stripping wallpaper from one room means nothing but from the whole house means more. Going further and bringing the house into a contemporary state by spackling, sanding, painting, getting new floors, and re-tooling the cabinets surely would increase the collective output of all those singular tasks exponentially. The average value of the home increases in spite of the small things overlooked as the greater tasks were performed.
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