Hi.
It's the end of a long day and I'm going on about 1 1/2 hours of sleep so I'm just about ready to crash and burn pretty hard. See, I have this little issue with an uncooperative disc in my neck and the end result is apretty constant migrain. On the bright side, I get to spend a lot of time under the influence of pain killers and muscle relaxants. Whoopee!
The down side of this - um, other than addiction and probably some long term nasty side effects - is that they don't really affect me the way you would think. Sure my muscles relax and my pain...well, I wouldn't say it really gets killed...more like...it gets distracted. Or I do. But the sleepy side effect? Nope. Nil. Nyet. Not happenin'. As a matter of fact, I get pretty wound up. So, at the end of a particularly fulfilling day at the real estate office, I come home with a bass rhythm in my head that would put me well in the ribbons at any IASCA event. I could just see me now...standing in the lot amongst the Honda Civics and Monte Carlos - my blood vessuhls droppin' the bass line so bad, biggest dayum headache ah evuh had, I'm gonna kick all yo'asses - you know what ah'm sayin', 'cause ah got a hundred thousand watts bangin on mah brayun'...word.
Or something like that.
Anyway...
I come home with the migrain, take the medicine and then I'm up until all hours of the night. Or morning as the case was this fine first day of Autumn. The last time I allowed myself to look at the clock it was 4am. On the occasions I do manage to sleep, it is usually with my jaw clenched. So guess what? I wake up with a headache as well. Ah, me. My hubby keeps telling me to get one of those mouthpiece things to put in my mouth when I go to sleep. The only problem with that is that when I'm out shopping, I'm not thinking of sleeping. Or not sleeping. Consequently, I end up buying towels or something but not a mouthpiece. I suppose I could put a towel in my mouth but, really, I don't want to wake up with a literal case of cotton mouth.
So...
I come home from work again and decide that nothing would be better for me than a shopping trip with my husband. To the mall. Right.
Actually, it wasn't bad at all other than the fact that I was so sleep deprived I was becoming a little punchy and silly. (I was a little paunchy too but that has nothing to do with anything.) So I danced to the groovy Kmart tunes while my hubby tried to do the shopping.
He's going to West Virginia on a whitewater rafting trip tomorrow. I would go but...how can I put this...do the words "squeal like a pig" mean anything to anyone? No, actually I went a few years ago and figured I'd let the old man do a guy weekend thing. It was my job to be the entertainment on the shopping trip for the supplies.
He was concerned about things like batteries and toothpaste and stuff. I, on the other hand, reminded him of such necessities as Halloween hillbilly teeth. So he can fit in with the locals, you know. He also bought a set for his brother.
Whilst perusing the Halloween aisles, I came across a pair of green rubbery hands that you wear like gloves over your own less rubbery hands. The tag on them said "Soft PVC Monster Hands". I told my hubby "I've never seen a Soft PVC Monster but, by the looks of these hands, it must be a pretty impressive creature." And so I wore them around the store for the rest of the shopping trip. I put them back before we left but I'm thinkin' I'll have to go back and by them. Maybe I'll be a Soft PVC Monster for Halloween. I'm thinking that would be a grand idea. Or, I'll just get the hands and wear them to work. Like a Soft PVC Monster disguising itself as a real estate agent. I could show a house to clients and when I reach my hand out to open, say, the basement door, they would notice my hands and scream, "AAAAHHHH! A Soft PVC Monster! AAAAHHHH!" Wicked scarey!
Anyway, when we got home, hubby was sorting through his stuff and suddenly tossed a little bag my way. I opened it up and what do you know, he bought me a mouthpiece! All together now...AAAAAAAWWWWWWWW! He's so nice like that. So I immediately ripped it open and stuck it in and began to thalk like thith.
Me: Thith ith umcomfthobo.
Hubby: What?
Me: Umcomfthobo. Thith ith. Thith thingh. Ah thah inthucthuns with thith?
Hubby: You're weird.
Me: Ahm weeod? AHM weeod? Yo thu one who wanth me thoo wah thith thingh.
Daughter: What are you doing?
Me: Who meh?
Daughter: Yeah, you.
Me: Ahm thwyin' thith thingh owt thath Thaddy both thor meh.
Daughter: What? What is that thing in your mouth?
Me: Mah mouth thingh. (I beging to shadow box at my daughter.) Ah fwowt wike a buthuhfwy an thing wike a bee.
Daughter: Yeah, ok.
Me: No, weewee. Ah do. Wook. Ahm fwowtin wike a buthuhfwy.
Daughter: Whatever.
Son (to Daughter): Your dog tinkled.
Daughter: Where?
Son: That's part of the fun - finding out where!
Daughter: Come on...
Me (boxing at my family): Fwowtihng wike a buthuhfwy, thinghihng wike a bee!
Hubby: I think you need to go to bed.
I looked at the baggy and, sure enough, there were instructions. You're supposed to plop the mouthpiece into a pot of boiling water and, after 30 seconds, take it out - with a set of tongs as per instructions - then grab it with your hand and put it right in your mouth! From the boiling water! Right into your mouth! How crazy is that? But, see here! The instructions say that "it will not burn". I crap you not.
Hmmm....
Forgive me but I'm a little leary on that one.
And then you are supposed to mold it to you top teeth, biting down and sucking out all of the air. After that, you quickly put it into cold water, thus setting the mold.
Well, I figured they must know what they're talking about so I plopped it into the boiling water. Look at clock. Look at pot. Look at clock. Look at pot. Look at clock. Look at pot. I was getting a little nervous that I wouldn't get it out in time and wind up overcooking it and loosing all the flavor and valuable nutirients so I decided I would hold onto to it with the tongs and then I could spirit it out of the water when the time was up. Unfortunately, I was a little too enthusiastic with the tongs and started to squish the mouthpiece. It was sticking to the tongs and I started to panic. I shook them around and the mouthpiece popped off into the pot.
Check the clock. 30 SECONDS IS UP!!! OH NO!!!!
I really started to panic and desperately fished around the pot for the mouthpiece. I finally managed to grab it and, in my frenzy to mold it to my teeth, I stuck everyting in my mouth.
The mouthpiece did not burn at all.
The metal tongs burned like a mother.
Me: AAAAAAA! OOOooowwwwWWWW! OOOOWWWW! Mah mowth! Ith boownd! OOOOWWWWW!
(Biting down, sucking air.)
Me: Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. Mah wip. Ah boownd mah wip. Owwwwwww......
I took it out and ran it under cold water and put it back in.
Me: Aaaaahhhhhhhh..... tha feewth gooth.
Now I am off to bed to see how things will go. Hopefully I will thweep wike a buthuhfwy and dweem wike a bee.
An tho, ah bidth you aw "Goothnith".
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Sunday, September 18, 2005
How To Jar Tomatoes In 2(x-5y)+7-(x+y) Easy Steps
Hi folks.
Guess what I did today? That's right. I finally dealt with some of the tomatoes. Not only did I make homemade sauce, but I jarred it as well.
You can just call me Little Suzie Homemaker.
Don't be jealous. You all know how I like to help out the common man. And so, I bring you...
Making - and Jarring, oh my God! - Tomato Sauce
What you need to get started:
- A crap load of tomatoes. What is a crap load? Well, it differs for each and every one of us.
- A big ass pot with lid. And a thingy to stick inside to hold the jars.
- Jars
- Lids and rings
- Lemon juice
- Canning salt. What is this? Darned if I know. I was told non-iodized is the same thing.
- Kitchen-aid mixer with juicer attachment gadget.
- Phone number of someone who knows how to work the attachment gadget for the Kitchen-aid.
- Extension cord.
- Some kind of grippy things to take hot jars out of boiling hot water.
- A buch of bowls.
- Coffee.
- Pry bar.
- Hammer.
- Bucket.
- Bleach.
- Window fan.
- Shop-vac.
- 2 Blueberry Pop-tarts.
- 8 oz. cold milk.
- Band-aid
Note: Do not get supplies ready ahead of time. Things will be more interesting that way.
Preparing to Jar!
1. Go out to a bar the night before you plan to jar. Drink a goodly amount of beer and stay up late.
2. Get up way to early and stumble into the kitchen. See many tomatoes on the table. Groan. Make coffee. See that dog peed on carpet in front of door.
3. Get pry bar and hammer and begin to rip up carpet because you just can't take this whole "dog not quite making it outside thing" any more. Rip up about a 5 x 5 square foot of carpeting and the possible asbestos underlayment. Finally remember to turn on window fan.
4. Vacuum area with Shop-vac. Fill bucket with very hot water and a little too much bleach. Scrub freshly exposed floor as though you are ridding your soul of the demons that have plagued you for many, many years. Feel your lungs begin to burn from the bleach.
5. Look at tomatoes again. Prolong the jarring a little bit longer by toasting 2 Pop-tarts and then dunking them in milk while you read through the jarring book to try to jog your memory on how to do this.
6. After you are sufficiently bored with trying to read through the directions, abandon book and take your breakfast dishes to the sink. Drink a coffee.
7. Go to the bathroom. Change a load of laundry. Fold laundry in the dryer and put it away before cats bed down in it. Wash hands.
Making Sauce
1. Look at tomatoes and sigh.
2. Put the tomatoes in the sink and begin to wash them. Place clean tomatoes into one of the many, many bowls you will use.
3. Let dog out.
4. Try to remember where you last saw the big-ass pot and lid.
5. Go into the basement and try to locate some jars, lids and rings. Oh! There's the big-ass pot and lid! Get that too. Haul everything to the kitchen.
6. Let the dog in.
7. Get Kitchen-aid mixer and set up on table. Try to find extension cord for mixer. After fuitless search for small extension cord, take 25 foot contractor's cord and plug mixer in to outlet 4 feet away.
8. Get box of attachment gadgets for mixer and try to figure out which one is the juicer. Stick your hand into the box with wild abandon and cut the tip of your right-hand index finger on slicer attachment. Mutter explicatives. Wash finger and put Band-aid on cut. Go bakc to box and gingerly remove what you think you might need for the juicer. Lay parts on table next to mixer and ponder your situation awhile.
9. Drink some more coffee.
10. Call person who knows how to work attachment gadget and get instuctions on how to put it together. Turn on mixer to speed 4.
11. Place bowl under juicer to catch juice. Place bowl under other end of juicer gadget to catch not-juice. Begin to feed tomatoes into hopper on top of juicer. DO NOT try to push tomatoes in that are just too darn big. Cut them up.
12. Stare in child-like wonder as Kitchen-aid makes short work of juicing the tomatoes.
13. Place as many jars as you can fit standing up into the big-ass pot and cover them with water. Boil jars for 10 m inutes. Place as many lids and rings as you have jars into another small pot of water and boil for 10 minutes as well.
14. Go back and squish more tomatoes into the mixer.
15. Let you son squish some tomatoes too.
16. Turn everything off because you have to drive your son to a scouting event that you didn't know about.
17. Trun everything back on.
18. Let the dog out.
19. Squish more tomatoes.
20. When you've had about enough, pour the tomato juice into a large pot. Put the not-juice in your compost bin. (You do compost, don't you?)
21. Now it's time to season the sauce. Throw in whatever you darn well please. Salt. Pepper. Um...Italian seasoning? What's that? Oregano, basil, parsley...ok.
22. Peel some garlic and onion and place in food processor to chop. Turn on food processor.
23. Let the dog back in.
24. Answer phone. Talk to your mom for a while. Forget about stuff in food processor. Come back to find it like a garlic and onion smoothie. Oh well. Put it into a small pot with some butter and set it on stove to simmer. Scream bloody murder when you get garlic juice in finger cut.
25. Change another load of laundry. Go to bathroom. Get distracted by unibrow and begin to pluck some eyebrow hairs. Suddenly remember garlic/onion smoothie.
26. Come back to kitchen to find garlic/onion smoothie has boiled all over the place. Pour whatever is left into sauce pot. Take heating element out and try to scrape off burnt garlic flakes. Return element to stove top.
27. Check book and see that sauce has to cook for - what?- 2 hours?! Crap!
28. Turn off pot with jars.
29. Find something to do for two hours. Like picking more tomatoes. And jarring them. No, I'm not kidding. And I'm not even going to get into it here.
30. Pick son up from scout event.
Let's Jar Tomato Sauce!
1. Boil jars, lids and rings again since you are finally ready for them.
2. Remove sauce from stove.
3. Take a jar out of the water - careful! It's hot! - and place it on a towel on the table. Fill the jar with sauce. Add 1 tablespoon of lemon and 1 tablespoon of non-iodized salt.
4. Take a lid and ring from the other pot and go to place it on the jar of sauce. Realize that you used the wrong size lids.Jump around kitchen yelling "What the crap! What the crap!".
5. Find the right size lids and put them in a pot of water to boil for 10 minutes.
6. When the lids are done, take one out and place it on the jar of sauce. Twist a ring onto the jar. Very carefully put jar back into pot of hot water.
7. Continue in the same fashion with other jars until you are out of room in your big-ass pot.
8. Put lid on pot and bring the whole kit and kaboodle to a boil. Boil it all for 40 minutes.
9. When time is up, take your grabby things and try to get the jars out of the pot. This is the most exciting and dangerous part of the process. Once false slip and it's a long, painful trip to the emergency room.
10. Place jars on a towel on table to cool.
11. Look at the jars for awhile.
12. Clap when you hear a lid go "pop". That means it is sealing like a good jar.
13. If you feel like sticking around to hear them all pop, go ahead, but it might take a while.
14. Try not to think about how you just took 8 freaking hours to make seven jars of sauce. Also try not to think about how you just bought sauce at Giant for $1.00 a jar. Don't think about that. At all.
15. Clean up whatever you have the energy to. The rest will be there tomorrow.
Congratulations! You did it!
Guess what I did today? That's right. I finally dealt with some of the tomatoes. Not only did I make homemade sauce, but I jarred it as well.
You can just call me Little Suzie Homemaker.
Don't be jealous. You all know how I like to help out the common man. And so, I bring you...
Making - and Jarring, oh my God! - Tomato Sauce
What you need to get started:
- A crap load of tomatoes. What is a crap load? Well, it differs for each and every one of us.
- A big ass pot with lid. And a thingy to stick inside to hold the jars.
- Jars
- Lids and rings
- Lemon juice
- Canning salt. What is this? Darned if I know. I was told non-iodized is the same thing.
- Kitchen-aid mixer with juicer attachment gadget.
- Phone number of someone who knows how to work the attachment gadget for the Kitchen-aid.
- Extension cord.
- Some kind of grippy things to take hot jars out of boiling hot water.
- A buch of bowls.
- Coffee.
- Pry bar.
- Hammer.
- Bucket.
- Bleach.
- Window fan.
- Shop-vac.
- 2 Blueberry Pop-tarts.
- 8 oz. cold milk.
- Band-aid
Note: Do not get supplies ready ahead of time. Things will be more interesting that way.
Preparing to Jar!
1. Go out to a bar the night before you plan to jar. Drink a goodly amount of beer and stay up late.
2. Get up way to early and stumble into the kitchen. See many tomatoes on the table. Groan. Make coffee. See that dog peed on carpet in front of door.
3. Get pry bar and hammer and begin to rip up carpet because you just can't take this whole "dog not quite making it outside thing" any more. Rip up about a 5 x 5 square foot of carpeting and the possible asbestos underlayment. Finally remember to turn on window fan.
4. Vacuum area with Shop-vac. Fill bucket with very hot water and a little too much bleach. Scrub freshly exposed floor as though you are ridding your soul of the demons that have plagued you for many, many years. Feel your lungs begin to burn from the bleach.
5. Look at tomatoes again. Prolong the jarring a little bit longer by toasting 2 Pop-tarts and then dunking them in milk while you read through the jarring book to try to jog your memory on how to do this.
6. After you are sufficiently bored with trying to read through the directions, abandon book and take your breakfast dishes to the sink. Drink a coffee.
7. Go to the bathroom. Change a load of laundry. Fold laundry in the dryer and put it away before cats bed down in it. Wash hands.
Making Sauce
1. Look at tomatoes and sigh.
2. Put the tomatoes in the sink and begin to wash them. Place clean tomatoes into one of the many, many bowls you will use.
3. Let dog out.
4. Try to remember where you last saw the big-ass pot and lid.
5. Go into the basement and try to locate some jars, lids and rings. Oh! There's the big-ass pot and lid! Get that too. Haul everything to the kitchen.
6. Let the dog in.
7. Get Kitchen-aid mixer and set up on table. Try to find extension cord for mixer. After fuitless search for small extension cord, take 25 foot contractor's cord and plug mixer in to outlet 4 feet away.
8. Get box of attachment gadgets for mixer and try to figure out which one is the juicer. Stick your hand into the box with wild abandon and cut the tip of your right-hand index finger on slicer attachment. Mutter explicatives. Wash finger and put Band-aid on cut. Go bakc to box and gingerly remove what you think you might need for the juicer. Lay parts on table next to mixer and ponder your situation awhile.
9. Drink some more coffee.
10. Call person who knows how to work attachment gadget and get instuctions on how to put it together. Turn on mixer to speed 4.
11. Place bowl under juicer to catch juice. Place bowl under other end of juicer gadget to catch not-juice. Begin to feed tomatoes into hopper on top of juicer. DO NOT try to push tomatoes in that are just too darn big. Cut them up.
12. Stare in child-like wonder as Kitchen-aid makes short work of juicing the tomatoes.
13. Place as many jars as you can fit standing up into the big-ass pot and cover them with water. Boil jars for 10 m inutes. Place as many lids and rings as you have jars into another small pot of water and boil for 10 minutes as well.
14. Go back and squish more tomatoes into the mixer.
15. Let you son squish some tomatoes too.
16. Turn everything off because you have to drive your son to a scouting event that you didn't know about.
17. Trun everything back on.
18. Let the dog out.
19. Squish more tomatoes.
20. When you've had about enough, pour the tomato juice into a large pot. Put the not-juice in your compost bin. (You do compost, don't you?)
21. Now it's time to season the sauce. Throw in whatever you darn well please. Salt. Pepper. Um...Italian seasoning? What's that? Oregano, basil, parsley...ok.
22. Peel some garlic and onion and place in food processor to chop. Turn on food processor.
23. Let the dog back in.
24. Answer phone. Talk to your mom for a while. Forget about stuff in food processor. Come back to find it like a garlic and onion smoothie. Oh well. Put it into a small pot with some butter and set it on stove to simmer. Scream bloody murder when you get garlic juice in finger cut.
25. Change another load of laundry. Go to bathroom. Get distracted by unibrow and begin to pluck some eyebrow hairs. Suddenly remember garlic/onion smoothie.
26. Come back to kitchen to find garlic/onion smoothie has boiled all over the place. Pour whatever is left into sauce pot. Take heating element out and try to scrape off burnt garlic flakes. Return element to stove top.
27. Check book and see that sauce has to cook for - what?- 2 hours?! Crap!
28. Turn off pot with jars.
29. Find something to do for two hours. Like picking more tomatoes. And jarring them. No, I'm not kidding. And I'm not even going to get into it here.
30. Pick son up from scout event.
Let's Jar Tomato Sauce!
1. Boil jars, lids and rings again since you are finally ready for them.
2. Remove sauce from stove.
3. Take a jar out of the water - careful! It's hot! - and place it on a towel on the table. Fill the jar with sauce. Add 1 tablespoon of lemon and 1 tablespoon of non-iodized salt.
4. Take a lid and ring from the other pot and go to place it on the jar of sauce. Realize that you used the wrong size lids.Jump around kitchen yelling "What the crap! What the crap!".
5. Find the right size lids and put them in a pot of water to boil for 10 minutes.
6. When the lids are done, take one out and place it on the jar of sauce. Twist a ring onto the jar. Very carefully put jar back into pot of hot water.
7. Continue in the same fashion with other jars until you are out of room in your big-ass pot.
8. Put lid on pot and bring the whole kit and kaboodle to a boil. Boil it all for 40 minutes.
9. When time is up, take your grabby things and try to get the jars out of the pot. This is the most exciting and dangerous part of the process. Once false slip and it's a long, painful trip to the emergency room.
10. Place jars on a towel on table to cool.
11. Look at the jars for awhile.
12. Clap when you hear a lid go "pop". That means it is sealing like a good jar.
13. If you feel like sticking around to hear them all pop, go ahead, but it might take a while.
14. Try not to think about how you just took 8 freaking hours to make seven jars of sauce. Also try not to think about how you just bought sauce at Giant for $1.00 a jar. Don't think about that. At all.
15. Clean up whatever you have the energy to. The rest will be there tomorrow.
Congratulations! You did it!
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Me Big Helper
Hey all.
I hope everyone had a nice Tuesday. Mine was uneventful enough. Work. Home. Migrain. Nap. Dinner. Blah, blah, blah.
While I was making dinner, I caught some kind of movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked out the window and saw my son picking what was left of the grapes off the vine in the yard. I turned back to the stove thinking "Oh, isn't that nice to see. He's out there enjoying the day. Roaming the yard. Exploring nature and..."
Poof!
I heard a short blast of air that I knew I should recognize. However, having just awakened from the migrain induced nap, the ol' neurons weren't firing quite right just yet.
Poof!
I heard it again.
I looked out the window again.
Yes, my son was in fact enjoying the outdoors, exploring nature in his own teenage way. He was picking grapes and stuffing them down the barrel of a paint ball gun and then shooting them off at God only knows what.
These are the kinds of things that happen when you deprive your children of television.
Another example.
I asked son to whack the weeds at the end of the driveway since they were now higher than the car and it was becoming a little like Russian Roulette whenever you had to pull out. ("No whammys, no whammys, no whammys...Floor it!") I couldn't leave the goat to eat these weeds because it was just a little too close to the road and Lord knows, I don't need some goat inspired law suit over a wrecked vehicle. Son - being the good and obedient child he is - whacked the weeds and then, I guess out of boredom - or, perhaps an unquenchable desire to express himself artistically - decided to use the weed whacker to make crop circles in the lawn.
It's a little hard to see, but I think you can get the idea.
Oh, how my children suffer...
As for myself, I did recover from the migrain enough to venture down to the garden of civil unrest. My sister-in-law begged me to go pick some tomatoes. I don't generally feel right picking any since I don't really pitch in but she was really begging this time. Like this...
Phone: Riiiiing
Me: Hello?
SIL: Have you been in the garden lately?
Me: No, why? Did it burn down or something?
SIL: No.
Me: Oh. Well, whatever it is, I didn't do it.
SIL: No, that's not it. You have to go pick some tomatoes.
Me: Are you sure? What if you don't have enough for jarring and stuff?
SIL: There's enough. Go pick some. There's a lot.
Me: Are you really sure?
SIL: Yes, they're...everywhere. Everywhere. Hundreds, no thousands of them.
Me: So...you're saying there's enough for me to take a few...
SIL: A few. A FEW!!! You don't understand. I...just...can't...take...anymore. I...the tomatoes...orange everywhere. I tried. I tried dammit! God help me! I...I...
Me: Are you...um...ok?
SIL: OH GOD! I can't pick any more tomatoes! You...you have frineds and co-workers who like tomatoes, don't you? You could get rid of them, right?
(She was sounding more and more frantic now.) You! You could take them and give them to the ladies you work with! Your clients! A housewarming basket of tomatoes!
Me: Um...I don't know on that one. I mean, some people are allergic and all...
SIL: Louisiana! Send them to the hurricane victims! A tomato relief drive!
Me: I think you need to get a grip here.
(But she was beyond help now.)
SIL: Go! Go get the tomatoes and save everyone! Save them! There are enough tomatoes to save the world!!!
And I heard the phone hit the floor and sister-in-law sobbing in the back ground.
Ok...I'm making it up.
She did say there were a lot though.
So, today I walked down to the garden while dinner was in the oven and clambered over the fence much the same way I imagine the deer do.
The garden has gone pretty wild by now. At first, everyone is all about the weeding and everything. Once the dog days of summer hit, they all become pretty much like me and are like "Garden? What?"
I walked to the end where the tomatoes are and whoa. There are a lot.
And that's just a small smattering. Like about one fourth of the tomato population.
So I picked three.
And then I took this picture.
See? I'm a helper!
Ok, I promise I'll go pick more tomorrow.
I hope everyone had a nice Tuesday. Mine was uneventful enough. Work. Home. Migrain. Nap. Dinner. Blah, blah, blah.
While I was making dinner, I caught some kind of movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked out the window and saw my son picking what was left of the grapes off the vine in the yard. I turned back to the stove thinking "Oh, isn't that nice to see. He's out there enjoying the day. Roaming the yard. Exploring nature and..."
Poof!
I heard a short blast of air that I knew I should recognize. However, having just awakened from the migrain induced nap, the ol' neurons weren't firing quite right just yet.
Poof!
I heard it again.
I looked out the window again.
Yes, my son was in fact enjoying the outdoors, exploring nature in his own teenage way. He was picking grapes and stuffing them down the barrel of a paint ball gun and then shooting them off at God only knows what.
These are the kinds of things that happen when you deprive your children of television.
Another example.
I asked son to whack the weeds at the end of the driveway since they were now higher than the car and it was becoming a little like Russian Roulette whenever you had to pull out. ("No whammys, no whammys, no whammys...Floor it!") I couldn't leave the goat to eat these weeds because it was just a little too close to the road and Lord knows, I don't need some goat inspired law suit over a wrecked vehicle. Son - being the good and obedient child he is - whacked the weeds and then, I guess out of boredom - or, perhaps an unquenchable desire to express himself artistically - decided to use the weed whacker to make crop circles in the lawn.
It's a little hard to see, but I think you can get the idea.
Oh, how my children suffer...
As for myself, I did recover from the migrain enough to venture down to the garden of civil unrest. My sister-in-law begged me to go pick some tomatoes. I don't generally feel right picking any since I don't really pitch in but she was really begging this time. Like this...
Phone: Riiiiing
Me: Hello?
SIL: Have you been in the garden lately?
Me: No, why? Did it burn down or something?
SIL: No.
Me: Oh. Well, whatever it is, I didn't do it.
SIL: No, that's not it. You have to go pick some tomatoes.
Me: Are you sure? What if you don't have enough for jarring and stuff?
SIL: There's enough. Go pick some. There's a lot.
Me: Are you really sure?
SIL: Yes, they're...everywhere. Everywhere. Hundreds, no thousands of them.
Me: So...you're saying there's enough for me to take a few...
SIL: A few. A FEW!!! You don't understand. I...just...can't...take...anymore. I...the tomatoes...orange everywhere. I tried. I tried dammit! God help me! I...I...
Me: Are you...um...ok?
SIL: OH GOD! I can't pick any more tomatoes! You...you have frineds and co-workers who like tomatoes, don't you? You could get rid of them, right?
(She was sounding more and more frantic now.) You! You could take them and give them to the ladies you work with! Your clients! A housewarming basket of tomatoes!
Me: Um...I don't know on that one. I mean, some people are allergic and all...
SIL: Louisiana! Send them to the hurricane victims! A tomato relief drive!
Me: I think you need to get a grip here.
(But she was beyond help now.)
SIL: Go! Go get the tomatoes and save everyone! Save them! There are enough tomatoes to save the world!!!
And I heard the phone hit the floor and sister-in-law sobbing in the back ground.
Ok...I'm making it up.
She did say there were a lot though.
So, today I walked down to the garden while dinner was in the oven and clambered over the fence much the same way I imagine the deer do.
The garden has gone pretty wild by now. At first, everyone is all about the weeding and everything. Once the dog days of summer hit, they all become pretty much like me and are like "Garden? What?"
I walked to the end where the tomatoes are and whoa. There are a lot.
And that's just a small smattering. Like about one fourth of the tomato population.
So I picked three.
And then I took this picture.
See? I'm a helper!
Ok, I promise I'll go pick more tomorrow.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
A Posty Post...For Lack of a Better Title
See me.
I am Earthy Woman.
I am salt of the earth.
Smell me.
I am earthy and salty and sweaty.
I just spent the afternoon mowing grass and hacking through brush.
So that's what the cool people did today. That's right. I went to church, grocery shopping and then did yard/jungle work. Don't hate me because I'm terribly hip and cool.
No really. That's it. I have no life. I'm sitting here reeking of sweat and grass and blood and quite possibly dog or goat poop but I just didn't get up the nerve to look at the bottom of my boots yet. Only because I stepped in dog poop yesterday and I'm just not ready for another go-round with it.
I'm trying to hack out the small area of jungle that has grown up around our pump house. We have to put a roof on it and pronto but - and see here's the tricky part - we have to get to it first. It's become quite grown up with booger balls and thorny things and these big tall plants that have lovely dark purple berries that I always think would be cool to dye clothes with until I found out they are poisonous (not just to eat, but to touch as well...but I still think I'm going to try it) and all sorts of other bushy growth.
I seem to have an issue with run-on sentences, don't I?
So I just spent the past 2 hours or so hacking through all of this with my trusty gas powered hedge trimmer we call "Excalibur". When I am wielding it I feel like a powerful king. Lord of the Yard! Bow to me and lick my poopy boots! And tie the laces while you're there. Double knots please. I mean, DOUBLOE KNOTS AND THAT'S AN ORDER!
A little aside here... You all know I have this issue with the spell check thing, right? Well, I usually have my Webster's Unabridged College Dictionary sitting next to me so's I can check words I'm not sure of because, even though I'm not particularly careful about typos, I do try to make an effort. Just so you all know that. My typos are exactly that. Not poor spelling. Because I have very low Speller Self Esteem and I am always second guessing myself. (Guessing...u before e? Check it. Got it.) Well, it seems as though my daughter's biology teacher decided to assign a gigantic (g.i.g.a.n.t.i.c.) leaf project and my kid swiped my dictionary (a.r.y.) to keep her leaves flat while they dry. So now I have to open up a window (on my computer, not in the house. Although it is getting a little stuffy in here and something smells an awful lot like poop...) to Dictionary.com so I can keep checking my spelling.
Life is never easy, is it?
And it's all because of my irrational fear of the spell check. I'm afraid I will get done typing a terribly witty and/or sensationally (ally? yes.) intelligent (ant or ent? Oh look, there's a bit of irony!) post and then do the spell check thing and it will disappear. Gone. Poof! Never to been seen again.
Which makes me think of a joke.
Jesus and the devil were woking on their computers, keeping track of the various people that died and the souls that were saved, or alternatively, not. All of a sudden, a big storm came trough and the power went out. (Now right here you have to go with it. Some people would say "Well, God is in charge of everything and wouldn't allow that to happen while Jesus was working on the computer." However, I pose this hypothesis [Yes, I checked it.]: Even though God might take the time out of a busy schedule to mess with the weather, the devil still put George W. Bush and Co. here to make sure global warming skyrockets, thusly messing up the weather patterns for the rest of human history. So there.) So the power goes out and the computers shut down. The next day, the devil sees Mary at the bar and says "Shit, man. That storm that came through yesterday? I lost my whole data base of souls. Everything. Gone." Mary says to him "Yeah, Jesus told me he was on the computer when the power went out too. Why don't you go ask him for a copy of his data base? I'm sure he'd give you one." The devil says "But I thought you said he was on his computer when the power went out too? Didn't he loose his dadt base?" And Mary...get this...says "Jesus saves."
A HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Um, if there are any priests here...I won't go to Hell for that, will I? No? Ok.
Anyway...
So here I sit, stinky, sweaty, tired and I think I have some booger balls in the back part of my arm pit. (Sis and cuz e, remember how fun it used to be to throw booger balls at each other? Golly, those were the days.) And, let's not forget, the possibly poopy boots.
Ah, me.
Anyway, again...
What I was really going to post about before I got distracted was this...
I was in the bathroom today - nothing gross, just a quick visit - and noticed that we have quite a bit of reading material on the top of the hopper. And, being the odd sort that I am, I thought to myself "What if someone came to visit - ok, someone who doesn't know us all that well. And why would they be visiting if they didn't know us all that well? I don't know. This is my daydream, lay off. - and they had to use the bathroom. Of course curiosity (iosi...ok) would get the better of them and they would at least take a look at what was there. What would the collection say about us as a family unit?" That's what I thought. And then I thought "I'll blog about this later."
So, folks, here's the collection of literature you would find if you came to visit and had to ... um ... powder your nose. And what I think it says about us.
Magazines
1. Progressive Farmer - 2 issues. Well, the word progressive says it all, doesn't it?
2. Horse Illustrated - Equine people. Must have money.
3. Reader's Digest with the lead article "12 Ways to Keep More of Your Money" - Neutralizes Horse Illustrated
4. Realtor Magazine - A trade magazine is always impressive. (No one needs to know it's there in case the tp runs out. Kidding.)
5. This Old House - Obviously hip home renovators (only 1 n). (Hee, hee!)
6. Sing Out! - Either hippie or musically inclined. Or, quite possibly, the dangerous combination of the two.
Books
1. Crosswords for the Connoisseur - Thinkers.
2. 101 Word Games - Thinkers that get bored with crossword puzzles. Or can't do them.
3. Nine Stories by J. D. Salinger - Um, what?
4. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce - Someone has a digestive tract issue. And a seriously messed up idea of light reading.
So, there it is, folks. Now I must leave you and go drive the garbage down to the end of the driveway. It's a long driveway so there's no walking it. And I have a problem with garbage smell so I have to hold it out the driver's door whilst I whiz down to the end, hopefully not knocking my door into any trees along the way. Kind of like stunt driving, if you will.
And I said I don't have an exciting life. Pshaw.
I am Earthy Woman.
I am salt of the earth.
Smell me.
I am earthy and salty and sweaty.
I just spent the afternoon mowing grass and hacking through brush.
So that's what the cool people did today. That's right. I went to church, grocery shopping and then did yard/jungle work. Don't hate me because I'm terribly hip and cool.
No really. That's it. I have no life. I'm sitting here reeking of sweat and grass and blood and quite possibly dog or goat poop but I just didn't get up the nerve to look at the bottom of my boots yet. Only because I stepped in dog poop yesterday and I'm just not ready for another go-round with it.
I'm trying to hack out the small area of jungle that has grown up around our pump house. We have to put a roof on it and pronto but - and see here's the tricky part - we have to get to it first. It's become quite grown up with booger balls and thorny things and these big tall plants that have lovely dark purple berries that I always think would be cool to dye clothes with until I found out they are poisonous (not just to eat, but to touch as well...but I still think I'm going to try it) and all sorts of other bushy growth.
I seem to have an issue with run-on sentences, don't I?
So I just spent the past 2 hours or so hacking through all of this with my trusty gas powered hedge trimmer we call "Excalibur". When I am wielding it I feel like a powerful king. Lord of the Yard! Bow to me and lick my poopy boots! And tie the laces while you're there. Double knots please. I mean, DOUBLOE KNOTS AND THAT'S AN ORDER!
A little aside here... You all know I have this issue with the spell check thing, right? Well, I usually have my Webster's Unabridged College Dictionary sitting next to me so's I can check words I'm not sure of because, even though I'm not particularly careful about typos, I do try to make an effort. Just so you all know that. My typos are exactly that. Not poor spelling. Because I have very low Speller Self Esteem and I am always second guessing myself. (Guessing...u before e? Check it. Got it.) Well, it seems as though my daughter's biology teacher decided to assign a gigantic (g.i.g.a.n.t.i.c.) leaf project and my kid swiped my dictionary (a.r.y.) to keep her leaves flat while they dry. So now I have to open up a window (on my computer, not in the house. Although it is getting a little stuffy in here and something smells an awful lot like poop...) to Dictionary.com so I can keep checking my spelling.
Life is never easy, is it?
And it's all because of my irrational fear of the spell check. I'm afraid I will get done typing a terribly witty and/or sensationally (ally? yes.) intelligent (ant or ent? Oh look, there's a bit of irony!) post and then do the spell check thing and it will disappear. Gone. Poof! Never to been seen again.
Which makes me think of a joke.
Jesus and the devil were woking on their computers, keeping track of the various people that died and the souls that were saved, or alternatively, not. All of a sudden, a big storm came trough and the power went out. (Now right here you have to go with it. Some people would say "Well, God is in charge of everything and wouldn't allow that to happen while Jesus was working on the computer." However, I pose this hypothesis [Yes, I checked it.]: Even though God might take the time out of a busy schedule to mess with the weather, the devil still put George W. Bush and Co. here to make sure global warming skyrockets, thusly messing up the weather patterns for the rest of human history. So there.) So the power goes out and the computers shut down. The next day, the devil sees Mary at the bar and says "Shit, man. That storm that came through yesterday? I lost my whole data base of souls. Everything. Gone." Mary says to him "Yeah, Jesus told me he was on the computer when the power went out too. Why don't you go ask him for a copy of his data base? I'm sure he'd give you one." The devil says "But I thought you said he was on his computer when the power went out too? Didn't he loose his dadt base?" And Mary...get this...says "Jesus saves."
A HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Um, if there are any priests here...I won't go to Hell for that, will I? No? Ok.
Anyway...
So here I sit, stinky, sweaty, tired and I think I have some booger balls in the back part of my arm pit. (Sis and cuz e, remember how fun it used to be to throw booger balls at each other? Golly, those were the days.) And, let's not forget, the possibly poopy boots.
Ah, me.
Anyway, again...
What I was really going to post about before I got distracted was this...
I was in the bathroom today - nothing gross, just a quick visit - and noticed that we have quite a bit of reading material on the top of the hopper. And, being the odd sort that I am, I thought to myself "What if someone came to visit - ok, someone who doesn't know us all that well. And why would they be visiting if they didn't know us all that well? I don't know. This is my daydream, lay off. - and they had to use the bathroom. Of course curiosity (iosi...ok) would get the better of them and they would at least take a look at what was there. What would the collection say about us as a family unit?" That's what I thought. And then I thought "I'll blog about this later."
So, folks, here's the collection of literature you would find if you came to visit and had to ... um ... powder your nose. And what I think it says about us.
Magazines
1. Progressive Farmer - 2 issues. Well, the word progressive says it all, doesn't it?
2. Horse Illustrated - Equine people. Must have money.
3. Reader's Digest with the lead article "12 Ways to Keep More of Your Money" - Neutralizes Horse Illustrated
4. Realtor Magazine - A trade magazine is always impressive. (No one needs to know it's there in case the tp runs out. Kidding.)
5. This Old House - Obviously hip home renovators (only 1 n). (Hee, hee!)
6. Sing Out! - Either hippie or musically inclined. Or, quite possibly, the dangerous combination of the two.
Books
1. Crosswords for the Connoisseur - Thinkers.
2. 101 Word Games - Thinkers that get bored with crossword puzzles. Or can't do them.
3. Nine Stories by J. D. Salinger - Um, what?
4. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce - Someone has a digestive tract issue. And a seriously messed up idea of light reading.
So, there it is, folks. Now I must leave you and go drive the garbage down to the end of the driveway. It's a long driveway so there's no walking it. And I have a problem with garbage smell so I have to hold it out the driver's door whilst I whiz down to the end, hopefully not knocking my door into any trees along the way. Kind of like stunt driving, if you will.
And I said I don't have an exciting life. Pshaw.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
What?
Ok...what is this all about?
Harrisburg - At a press conference today in the captial rotunda, Governor Edward G. Rendell announced Pennsylvania's offer to the states devistated by hurricane Katrina. Flanked by the owners of Reading Anthracite Company and Lehigh Coal & Navigation, Governor Rendell detailed a plan to offer assitance in the clean up of the storm ravaged area.
"As you know, the Schuylkill County area of Pennsylvania is in the process of reclaiming land that was once used for mining. We are offering these coal lands for the disposal of any storm sludge that has to be removed from New Orleans and the surrounding areas. We think it's a real good idea. And we're going to bring it in by boat to the Philadelphia habor. Go Eagles!"
When asked about the potential toxins and contaminates contained in the sludge, Governor Rendell replied, "It's perfectly safe. DEP will say so. Can someone get me a photo-op with Nagin?"
Ok, ok...I made it up. But possible, no?
Governor Rendell Offers Assistance Pennsylvania Style!
Harrisburg - At a press conference today in the captial rotunda, Governor Edward G. Rendell announced Pennsylvania's offer to the states devistated by hurricane Katrina. Flanked by the owners of Reading Anthracite Company and Lehigh Coal & Navigation, Governor Rendell detailed a plan to offer assitance in the clean up of the storm ravaged area.
"As you know, the Schuylkill County area of Pennsylvania is in the process of reclaiming land that was once used for mining. We are offering these coal lands for the disposal of any storm sludge that has to be removed from New Orleans and the surrounding areas. We think it's a real good idea. And we're going to bring it in by boat to the Philadelphia habor. Go Eagles!"
When asked about the potential toxins and contaminates contained in the sludge, Governor Rendell replied, "It's perfectly safe. DEP will say so. Can someone get me a photo-op with Nagin?"
Ok, ok...I made it up. But possible, no?
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Hey! It's Reality! And It's Punching You In The Face!
So, if you check out my sister's blog, you will see some links to articles and other pertinent reading. Go check them out. That's an order.
I'm having a hard time with this whole hurricane thing right now. And it's hard beyond all of the tragedy. I can't even fathom what is going on down there right now. I check it out on the computer and look at the pictures like the rest of the world. Then I go about my day and listen to all the armchair disaster workers griping about what isn't getting done soon enough, why don't they have everything under control already, why the hell are gas prices so high and hey, by the way, I can bitch and moan just don't ask me to change my lifestyle at all because that's just a little too much trouble.
Sigh.
The real kicker for me is that they KNEW. They knew this was all only a matter of time. No, wait. That's not the real kicker. The REAL kicker for me is that they are talking about rebuilding this area. Hello? It's a bowl, folks. And not just a bowl, but a bowl below sea level that is surrounded by water.
But we all know this.
And, yeah, I know...it's someone's home and we can rebuild and we shall overcome because we're proud and we have sticktoitiveness and, by golly, no one, including Mother Nature, will tell us where we can build our cities.
Yeah well, let's see how far pride pays the bills. It is going to take a hell of a lot more than rebuilding. Global warming, anyone? Just how committed to rebuilding is everyone willing to get?
Why must we continuously look at problems in the face and pretend they aren't there?
Gas prices? You think they're bad now? You think there is chaos now? Do yourself a little favor and go Google "peak oil". There's something to keep you awake for a few nights. And guess what? It's not just going to happen somewhere else. No, my little Pollyannas. It's going to happen to me and you and your kids and your neighbors who you might get along with now but just see how good things go when life as we are so blindly used to living it is changes. For good.
Wake the hell up, America. World. You.
Ok, I'm getting off the soap box now.
I'm having a hard time with this whole hurricane thing right now. And it's hard beyond all of the tragedy. I can't even fathom what is going on down there right now. I check it out on the computer and look at the pictures like the rest of the world. Then I go about my day and listen to all the armchair disaster workers griping about what isn't getting done soon enough, why don't they have everything under control already, why the hell are gas prices so high and hey, by the way, I can bitch and moan just don't ask me to change my lifestyle at all because that's just a little too much trouble.
Sigh.
The real kicker for me is that they KNEW. They knew this was all only a matter of time. No, wait. That's not the real kicker. The REAL kicker for me is that they are talking about rebuilding this area. Hello? It's a bowl, folks. And not just a bowl, but a bowl below sea level that is surrounded by water.
But we all know this.
And, yeah, I know...it's someone's home and we can rebuild and we shall overcome because we're proud and we have sticktoitiveness and, by golly, no one, including Mother Nature, will tell us where we can build our cities.
Yeah well, let's see how far pride pays the bills. It is going to take a hell of a lot more than rebuilding. Global warming, anyone? Just how committed to rebuilding is everyone willing to get?
Why must we continuously look at problems in the face and pretend they aren't there?
Gas prices? You think they're bad now? You think there is chaos now? Do yourself a little favor and go Google "peak oil". There's something to keep you awake for a few nights. And guess what? It's not just going to happen somewhere else. No, my little Pollyannas. It's going to happen to me and you and your kids and your neighbors who you might get along with now but just see how good things go when life as we are so blindly used to living it is changes. For good.
Wake the hell up, America. World. You.
Ok, I'm getting off the soap box now.
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