Ok...
Here's my first quickie update.
I just went to Yahoo! and glanced at the news headlines and saw this
U.S. May Ask IAEA to Pressure Iran.
Which, in my haste, I read as this
U.S. May Ask IKEA to Pressure Iran.
And before I even thought about re-reading, my mind barrelled ahead with thoughts of furniture that needed to be assembled, incorrect instructions, not enough parts and confounded Iranians scratching their heads. And the whole time I'm thinking "What? Is this an attempt at sanctions or what?"
And then I went back and read it again.
Hee hee.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Alright, alright, alright. Boy, that didn't last long.
Due to the unforeseen threat by Tony C to come visiting, please disregard the previous post.
No, I'm kidding.
Actually it is due to my big sis calling...
The whole catalyst for the previouse post was the arrival of 660 feet of fence that hubby and I have to install in short order. And the impending gardening season. And the roof leaking during the last rain. And the toilet that won't stop running. And, and, and...
You get the idea.
I thought a sabbatical might be in order. Because I get it in my head that "Oh, I'll just pop on the computer and update the ol' blog..." and then suddenly, two hours later, where did the time ever go? You had no idea I spend that much time on my posts, did you?
Ok, I don't. I often fall victim to the NEXT BLOG button. Like gambling.
OR...the internet in general. "I wonder how much it would cost to ship that draft horse from Illinois?
And there the time goes.
So, in the interest of preserving my blog, my farm and my sanity, I'm going to try my big sis's (she's so smart) suggestion of just doing a quick weekly update thing. Except it may not exactly be weekly. I guess we'll just have to see how it goes. I'm thinking maybe a photo of the week.
Or a haiku.
Or...something else.
At any rate, gosh, thanks guys! I had no idea. So I will try no to dissapoint yous all and I'll keep at it.
And, Mr. Tony C, you don't scare me with phone calls or personal visits. In fact, we'd love to see you. Do you have a pair of wire cutters?
No, I'm kidding.
Actually it is due to my big sis calling...
The whole catalyst for the previouse post was the arrival of 660 feet of fence that hubby and I have to install in short order. And the impending gardening season. And the roof leaking during the last rain. And the toilet that won't stop running. And, and, and...
You get the idea.
I thought a sabbatical might be in order. Because I get it in my head that "Oh, I'll just pop on the computer and update the ol' blog..." and then suddenly, two hours later, where did the time ever go? You had no idea I spend that much time on my posts, did you?
Ok, I don't. I often fall victim to the NEXT BLOG button. Like gambling.
OR...the internet in general. "I wonder how much it would cost to ship that draft horse from Illinois?
And there the time goes.
So, in the interest of preserving my blog, my farm and my sanity, I'm going to try my big sis's (she's so smart) suggestion of just doing a quick weekly update thing. Except it may not exactly be weekly. I guess we'll just have to see how it goes. I'm thinking maybe a photo of the week.
Or a haiku.
Or...something else.
At any rate, gosh, thanks guys! I had no idea. So I will try no to dissapoint yous all and I'll keep at it.
And, Mr. Tony C, you don't scare me with phone calls or personal visits. In fact, we'd love to see you. Do you have a pair of wire cutters?
Monday, April 10, 2006
A Swan Song of Sorts
Dear Readers,
I just wanted to let you all know that I'm going to semi-retire the Almost Quintessence blog.
It is fun to chronicle the anecdotes of daily life and especially interesting to read the insightful comments that follow. So I'm not just going to outright delete it. I may be back from time to time.
As it is, though, it tends to become a bit of a distraction from...oh...things like fixing the leaky roof, insulating the cold house, tending to the garden, etc. In short, I am going to shift attention completely rather than trying to give a little bit to this and a little bit to that and never enough to anything.
It would seem that farmer/writers can only be prolific in one thing.
So, there it is.
Thank you for shopping at Almost Quintessence.
Sincerely,
The Distracted Management
I just wanted to let you all know that I'm going to semi-retire the Almost Quintessence blog.
It is fun to chronicle the anecdotes of daily life and especially interesting to read the insightful comments that follow. So I'm not just going to outright delete it. I may be back from time to time.
As it is, though, it tends to become a bit of a distraction from...oh...things like fixing the leaky roof, insulating the cold house, tending to the garden, etc. In short, I am going to shift attention completely rather than trying to give a little bit to this and a little bit to that and never enough to anything.
It would seem that farmer/writers can only be prolific in one thing.
So, there it is.
Thank you for shopping at Almost Quintessence.
Sincerely,
The Distracted Management
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Here Lies...Lays...Is Lying...Um...
Guess what today is folks?
That's right! Write Your Own Epitaph Day!
Why, we can have so much fun with death, especially when it's our own!
How about a 4 liner? Non-rhyming.
Poor young Ms. Quintessece
was laid to an early rest
when the bull she was riding
decided 8 seconds was much too long.
I think I like that one. Maybe I'll use it regardless of how I die.
I did a quick search of some epitaphs on...
Wait. I have to stop here a moment and comment on just how hard it is to type the word epitaph let alone say it. When I say epitaph, I feel like I have 3 cotton balls on the tip of my tounge. Epitaph. Epitaph. Epitaph.
Ok, now back to our scheduled post.
...the internet and I found some rather interesting ones. For example...
Here lies a poor unfortunate who was victim of his own imprudence. Drop a tear on his tomb and say, if you please, a psalm 'out of the depths I have cried unto Thee, O Lord,' for his soul. He was only 27 years. 1798.
...and...
Here lies a miser who lived for himself, who cared
for nothing but gathering wealth. Now where he is and how he fares;
nobody knows and nobody cares
Those were both annonymous. But my favorite annonymous epitaph by far is this...
I was somebody.
Who, is no business
of yours
You gotta love that.
And now for some others.
Here lies the body
Of Margaret Bent
She kicked up her heels
And away she went.
Here lies the body
of Jonathan Blake
Stepped on the gas pedal
Instead of the brake
Truth and History.
21 Men.
The Boy Bandit King --
He Died As He Lived.
(Billy the Kid)
My Trip is Ended.
Send My Samples Home.
(Thomas Campbell)
She failed her breathalizer test
now she lays with the best
(jeanine Custis)
She always said her feet were killing her but nobody believed her.
(Margaret Daniels)
Here lies the body of Martha Dias,
Who was always uneasy, and not over pious;
She lived to the age of three score and ten,
And gave that to the worms she refused to the men.
Sacred to the memory of Anthony Drake
Who died for peace and quietness sake;
His wife was constantly scolding and scoffin;
So he sought for repose in a twelve-dollar coffin.
On the 22nd of June
Jonathan Fiddle
Went out of tune
So you all get the idea. Here's another one for me.
Here lies the famed Ms. Quintessence,
She died from a case of senescence.
Though her heart was just young,
Her body was done
And her brain - just complete obsolescence.
Go forth and write my good people!
That's right! Write Your Own Epitaph Day!
Why, we can have so much fun with death, especially when it's our own!
How about a 4 liner? Non-rhyming.
Poor young Ms. Quintessece
was laid to an early rest
when the bull she was riding
decided 8 seconds was much too long.
I think I like that one. Maybe I'll use it regardless of how I die.
I did a quick search of some epitaphs on...
Wait. I have to stop here a moment and comment on just how hard it is to type the word epitaph let alone say it. When I say epitaph, I feel like I have 3 cotton balls on the tip of my tounge. Epitaph. Epitaph. Epitaph.
Ok, now back to our scheduled post.
...the internet and I found some rather interesting ones. For example...
Here lies a poor unfortunate who was victim of his own imprudence. Drop a tear on his tomb and say, if you please, a psalm 'out of the depths I have cried unto Thee, O Lord,' for his soul. He was only 27 years. 1798.
...and...
Here lies a miser who lived for himself, who cared
for nothing but gathering wealth. Now where he is and how he fares;
nobody knows and nobody cares
Those were both annonymous. But my favorite annonymous epitaph by far is this...
I was somebody.
Who, is no business
of yours
You gotta love that.
And now for some others.
Here lies the body
Of Margaret Bent
She kicked up her heels
And away she went.
Here lies the body
of Jonathan Blake
Stepped on the gas pedal
Instead of the brake
Truth and History.
21 Men.
The Boy Bandit King --
He Died As He Lived.
(Billy the Kid)
My Trip is Ended.
Send My Samples Home.
(Thomas Campbell)
She failed her breathalizer test
now she lays with the best
(jeanine Custis)
She always said her feet were killing her but nobody believed her.
(Margaret Daniels)
Here lies the body of Martha Dias,
Who was always uneasy, and not over pious;
She lived to the age of three score and ten,
And gave that to the worms she refused to the men.
Sacred to the memory of Anthony Drake
Who died for peace and quietness sake;
His wife was constantly scolding and scoffin;
So he sought for repose in a twelve-dollar coffin.
On the 22nd of June
Jonathan Fiddle
Went out of tune
So you all get the idea. Here's another one for me.
Here lies the famed Ms. Quintessence,
She died from a case of senescence.
Though her heart was just young,
Her body was done
And her brain - just complete obsolescence.
Go forth and write my good people!
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Yeah...that's it...
Good morning everyone! Happy April 4th!
April 4th also happens to be Tell A Lie Day. So, in the spirit of duplicity, I am going to play along.
Here's how it works: I am going to tell a series of things and you have to pick out the lie in each. Ok? Sounds like tremendous fun, doesn't it?
Part I - Right now
1. I had no milk this morning...and by milk, I mean whole-100%-all-the-fat-left-in-it-milk...so rather than putting the 1%-poor-excuse-for-milk in my coffee, I opened a can of sweetened condensed milk and used that.
2. I am currently wrapped in a pink and blue fleece bathrobe of Southwestern pattern.
3. My daughter wore a tie to school today.
Ok, now you pick out the fib. See how it goes? Ok, let's have more fun!
Part II - At some point previous
1. I stole a turkey from the grocery store.
2. I stole a horse.
3. I stole away in the middle of the night to swim in a neighbor's pool.
Oooo...which one could it be? And aren't we surprised at the other two? Oh, Ms. Quintessence, we never would have guessed!
Part III - About my home
1. I've lost a cat in my house, never to be seen again.
2. It has 80 windows.
3. I broke into it before I bought it.
Hmmm...which could it be?
Part IV - About the people with whom I live
1. One has been on television at least 3 times.
2. One knew how to weld before the end of grade school.
3. One is currently fabricating a lawn cart out of an oil tank.
Getting harder and harder, isn't it?
Part V - My extended family (Sis, you can't tell the secret on this one)
1. One visited with Roger Daltry and Pete Townshend
2. One kept a horse in the garage.
3. One worked - as in real job - at a garage.
Ho ho! Which is the doosey?
Part VI - About my in-laws
1. One smashed his face on a tunnel whilst hitching a ride on a train.
2. One holds a patten for the little plastic thingies in dress shirt collars.
3. One worked as a translator for the armed forces.
Oh! They are all so possible. Or are they?
And last but not least...
Part VII - My job
1. I once had to walk back from a showing because I locked my keys in my car.
2. I once had to get into a house through a window - head first in a skirt - because I locked the keys to the house inside the house.
3. I once showed up late for an appointment because I stopped to save a giant snapping turtle that was trying to cross a 4 lane highway.
Uh oh...which could it be?
Ok, I will post the answers in the comments section so as not to spoil it for anyone.
And when you're done, go out and spread some deceit - but just refer to it as terminological inexactitude and you'll have no trouble.
Happy Tell A Lie Day!
April 4th also happens to be Tell A Lie Day. So, in the spirit of duplicity, I am going to play along.
Here's how it works: I am going to tell a series of things and you have to pick out the lie in each. Ok? Sounds like tremendous fun, doesn't it?
Part I - Right now
1. I had no milk this morning...and by milk, I mean whole-100%-all-the-fat-left-in-it-milk...so rather than putting the 1%-poor-excuse-for-milk in my coffee, I opened a can of sweetened condensed milk and used that.
2. I am currently wrapped in a pink and blue fleece bathrobe of Southwestern pattern.
3. My daughter wore a tie to school today.
Ok, now you pick out the fib. See how it goes? Ok, let's have more fun!
Part II - At some point previous
1. I stole a turkey from the grocery store.
2. I stole a horse.
3. I stole away in the middle of the night to swim in a neighbor's pool.
Oooo...which one could it be? And aren't we surprised at the other two? Oh, Ms. Quintessence, we never would have guessed!
Part III - About my home
1. I've lost a cat in my house, never to be seen again.
2. It has 80 windows.
3. I broke into it before I bought it.
Hmmm...which could it be?
Part IV - About the people with whom I live
1. One has been on television at least 3 times.
2. One knew how to weld before the end of grade school.
3. One is currently fabricating a lawn cart out of an oil tank.
Getting harder and harder, isn't it?
Part V - My extended family (Sis, you can't tell the secret on this one)
1. One visited with Roger Daltry and Pete Townshend
2. One kept a horse in the garage.
3. One worked - as in real job - at a garage.
Ho ho! Which is the doosey?
Part VI - About my in-laws
1. One smashed his face on a tunnel whilst hitching a ride on a train.
2. One holds a patten for the little plastic thingies in dress shirt collars.
3. One worked as a translator for the armed forces.
Oh! They are all so possible. Or are they?
And last but not least...
Part VII - My job
1. I once had to walk back from a showing because I locked my keys in my car.
2. I once had to get into a house through a window - head first in a skirt - because I locked the keys to the house inside the house.
3. I once showed up late for an appointment because I stopped to save a giant snapping turtle that was trying to cross a 4 lane highway.
Uh oh...which could it be?
Ok, I will post the answers in the comments section so as not to spoil it for anyone.
And when you're done, go out and spread some deceit - but just refer to it as terminological inexactitude and you'll have no trouble.
Happy Tell A Lie Day!
Saturday, April 01, 2006
The Early Fool Catches the Wind
Hi everyone.
It's 5:02am on April Fools's Day. It would seem as though I am the April Fool.
Why, you may ask, am I awake at 5:02am on April Fool's Day? Could it be that I am one of the last to fall revellers of Bunsen Burner Day, taking festivities right into the dawn of April?
No. That wouldn't be the answer.
I'm waiting for my turn in the shower.
And then I'm going to drive two and a half hours to an alternative energy fair where I will walk around with a husband with windmills in his eyes. My hubby gets windmills in his eyes the way greedy people get dollar signs in theirs. He'll be all full of amps and wind speeds and net metering and such.
Do you happen to know that at this very moment I have several 12 foot long fan blades in my yard? Hmmm?
These would be the fan blades he brought home from his new job.
Hubby: Hey there, Supervisor Guy. I see there's some 12 foot long fan blades in the junk pile.
Supervisor Guy: Why, yes. Yes indeed.
Hubby: Can I have them?
Supervisor Guy: What? Oh...erm...I...um...suppose so. What...uh...what might you want them for?
Hubby: I'm building a windmill of course.
Supervisor Guy: Wha....?
At least that's how I guess it went.
AS it turns out, there was another batch of 12 foot fan blades in the junk pile again this week. I asked hubby if he's going to take them too. You know, to open up a windmill parts place or something. He said they already buried them with other junk to keep, he thinks, the freaks from taking them home.
So, Happy April Fool's Day everyone. May it be full of practical jokes and alternative energy.
It's 5:02am on April Fools's Day. It would seem as though I am the April Fool.
Why, you may ask, am I awake at 5:02am on April Fool's Day? Could it be that I am one of the last to fall revellers of Bunsen Burner Day, taking festivities right into the dawn of April?
No. That wouldn't be the answer.
I'm waiting for my turn in the shower.
And then I'm going to drive two and a half hours to an alternative energy fair where I will walk around with a husband with windmills in his eyes. My hubby gets windmills in his eyes the way greedy people get dollar signs in theirs. He'll be all full of amps and wind speeds and net metering and such.
Do you happen to know that at this very moment I have several 12 foot long fan blades in my yard? Hmmm?
These would be the fan blades he brought home from his new job.
Hubby: Hey there, Supervisor Guy. I see there's some 12 foot long fan blades in the junk pile.
Supervisor Guy: Why, yes. Yes indeed.
Hubby: Can I have them?
Supervisor Guy: What? Oh...erm...I...um...suppose so. What...uh...what might you want them for?
Hubby: I'm building a windmill of course.
Supervisor Guy: Wha....?
At least that's how I guess it went.
AS it turns out, there was another batch of 12 foot fan blades in the junk pile again this week. I asked hubby if he's going to take them too. You know, to open up a windmill parts place or something. He said they already buried them with other junk to keep, he thinks, the freaks from taking them home.
So, Happy April Fool's Day everyone. May it be full of practical jokes and alternative energy.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
I Am Beginning to Sense a Pattern
Wtih my son, that is.
And that pattern would be checks. Or checkerboard. Whatever.
I give you example Number 1: the truck
When my son received his driver's permit, one of his uncles gave him a smallish truck. It needed a some work to smooth out the mechanics but, over all, it is a sound little thing. It wasn't too long after he had it that he dicided he wanted to...personalize it, I guess, by painting it. I can't tell you how many times I got the phone call "Um...I need more black paint." Or, "Um... I need more red paint."
Or...masking tape.
Lots and lots of masking tape.
Crates of masking tape.
Now, those of you who might know this kid know he has never exactly been the type to go out of his way to attract attention. So what, then, is this all about?
When you look up the word "tenacity" in the dictionary...yep, there's his picture.
On the bright side, he'll never be able to covertly wreak havoc in this vehicle. I have already heard from numerous people that "You just can't miss that truck driving through town..."
Now, I have to pause here to let you in on a funny little story. It just so happens that one day he locked his keys in the truck. This was a day that he had an event with the ski club. He called to let me know of his predicament and I told him that I get his dad and we'd head down and try to open it up. A little later, I was checking the messages on my cell phone and found this...
"Ummm...when you go to open up the truck...it's parked in the elementary school lot, right in front of the doors. Well, not right exactly in front. It's actually down from the doors a little bit but it's in the front row. It's more toward the flag pole. Ok."
...
Uh huh.
It's a BLACK AND RED CHECKERED truck. How could I have any trouble finding it?
Anyway...
Now for example Number 2: the suit
The high school recently had a film festival where the students were invited to make films for a competition. The winner walked away with a $1,000 savings bond. They pulled out all the stops, having a Friday evening showing with lovely programs and everything. The students were told that they would not be charged an entrance fee if they dressed up.
I guess this was all my son needed to hear. I have to say, he is one of the most frugal people I know. So frugal that he was willing to go out in public like this...
That's just plain brave if you ask me.
I began to wonder about this whole checkerboard thing. I tried to scour the internet to search what a checkerboard pattern might reveal about one's personality but, alas, the only thing I could come across were some tips on decorating a kitchen. As it is, my son should use toile de juoy fabrics for the windows and perhaps a rustic hickory finish on his cabinets.
Who knew?
I can just see trying to impart this bit of wisdom to him.
Me: So, you're remodeling your kitchen.
Son:...
Me: Are you going to use toile de juoy for your curtains?
Son:...
Me: Well, are you?
Son: Toile what???
Me: You know, toile de juoy. And a rustic hickory finish on your cabinets.
Son: I'm painting the cabinets plaid.
Ah, yes, I can see it all now.
And while I'm chatting you all up on my boy, I may as well get in a little bragging. This week National Honor Society and 13 out of 24 in his first ever motorcycle race. Yay!
What a kid.
And fear not, dear daughter...your day is coming. Oh yes...your day is coming...
And that pattern would be checks. Or checkerboard. Whatever.
I give you example Number 1: the truck
When my son received his driver's permit, one of his uncles gave him a smallish truck. It needed a some work to smooth out the mechanics but, over all, it is a sound little thing. It wasn't too long after he had it that he dicided he wanted to...personalize it, I guess, by painting it. I can't tell you how many times I got the phone call "Um...I need more black paint." Or, "Um... I need more red paint."
Or...masking tape.
Lots and lots of masking tape.
Crates of masking tape.
Now, those of you who might know this kid know he has never exactly been the type to go out of his way to attract attention. So what, then, is this all about?
When you look up the word "tenacity" in the dictionary...yep, there's his picture.
On the bright side, he'll never be able to covertly wreak havoc in this vehicle. I have already heard from numerous people that "You just can't miss that truck driving through town..."
Now, I have to pause here to let you in on a funny little story. It just so happens that one day he locked his keys in the truck. This was a day that he had an event with the ski club. He called to let me know of his predicament and I told him that I get his dad and we'd head down and try to open it up. A little later, I was checking the messages on my cell phone and found this...
"Ummm...when you go to open up the truck...it's parked in the elementary school lot, right in front of the doors. Well, not right exactly in front. It's actually down from the doors a little bit but it's in the front row. It's more toward the flag pole. Ok."
...
Uh huh.
It's a BLACK AND RED CHECKERED truck. How could I have any trouble finding it?
Anyway...
Now for example Number 2: the suit
The high school recently had a film festival where the students were invited to make films for a competition. The winner walked away with a $1,000 savings bond. They pulled out all the stops, having a Friday evening showing with lovely programs and everything. The students were told that they would not be charged an entrance fee if they dressed up.
I guess this was all my son needed to hear. I have to say, he is one of the most frugal people I know. So frugal that he was willing to go out in public like this...
That's just plain brave if you ask me.
I began to wonder about this whole checkerboard thing. I tried to scour the internet to search what a checkerboard pattern might reveal about one's personality but, alas, the only thing I could come across were some tips on decorating a kitchen. As it is, my son should use toile de juoy fabrics for the windows and perhaps a rustic hickory finish on his cabinets.
Who knew?
I can just see trying to impart this bit of wisdom to him.
Me: So, you're remodeling your kitchen.
Son:...
Me: Are you going to use toile de juoy for your curtains?
Son:...
Me: Well, are you?
Son: Toile what???
Me: You know, toile de juoy. And a rustic hickory finish on your cabinets.
Son: I'm painting the cabinets plaid.
Ah, yes, I can see it all now.
And while I'm chatting you all up on my boy, I may as well get in a little bragging. This week National Honor Society and 13 out of 24 in his first ever motorcycle race. Yay!
What a kid.
And fear not, dear daughter...your day is coming. Oh yes...your day is coming...
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Oh! The Iron(y)!
Long time, no post. I know. I know. Don't even start.
So the other night, hubby, daughter and I were lying about the living room watching a movie - I don't know what, we've been donig the Harold Lloyd marathon lately - when son poked his head in the door. He just kind of stood there for a couple minutes and then, in his own unique way of talking without actually moving his jaw even a fraction of an inch, said "Where is the irony?"
Which stopped me dead in my tracks.
Where is the irony?
What?
Is this my son? Is this my very own boy waxing linguistic? I mean, some days the deepest question I might get from him is "Are you going to be done in there soon?" as he waits impatiently on the other side of the bathroom door.
Where is the irony?
My husband paused the movie and, kind of in a slow-motion manner - at least it seemed that way - we all swung our world weary heads to this new teenage philosopher. We looked at him for what seemed an eternity, waiting, waiting for the next bit of prophecy.
Actually, it was probably only seconds until hubby said "What?"
And then my son, this young intelligentsia, this, this, disciple of reasoning, said a little more clearly...
"The iron. Where is it?"
Which, given the source, is just as amazing a question.
So the other night, hubby, daughter and I were lying about the living room watching a movie - I don't know what, we've been donig the Harold Lloyd marathon lately - when son poked his head in the door. He just kind of stood there for a couple minutes and then, in his own unique way of talking without actually moving his jaw even a fraction of an inch, said "Where is the irony?"
Which stopped me dead in my tracks.
Where is the irony?
What?
Is this my son? Is this my very own boy waxing linguistic? I mean, some days the deepest question I might get from him is "Are you going to be done in there soon?" as he waits impatiently on the other side of the bathroom door.
Where is the irony?
My husband paused the movie and, kind of in a slow-motion manner - at least it seemed that way - we all swung our world weary heads to this new teenage philosopher. We looked at him for what seemed an eternity, waiting, waiting for the next bit of prophecy.
Actually, it was probably only seconds until hubby said "What?"
And then my son, this young intelligentsia, this, this, disciple of reasoning, said a little more clearly...
"The iron. Where is it?"
Which, given the source, is just as amazing a question.
Friday, February 17, 2006
I Am So Glad That Today Is Almost Over
I did not have a great day today.
It started off well enough. I didn't have work today and that's always a good thing, right?
So, in all fairness, I did not have a good evening today. Let's rewind to...let's say about 3 o'clock. No, wait... I actually have to rewind back two days.
As you might have read in the previous post, I have been working on a little painting project in my living room. Well, it's coming along alright but it kind of stalled out and here is why. I picked this...um, mustardy yellow color for the walls. I know, mustardy yellow doesn't really sound appealing to me either but it's not that bad. I think it's called Golden Valley or something like that but, really, Golden Valley doesn't give you the same understanding of the color as mustardy yellow does, I think.
Anyway...
I got the walls painted and I was thinking it needed a little something else for some pizzaz. So I figured I could try the old world look and rub a stain over the paint. You see, I have plaster walls in my living room and they are all full of cracks and such. None of which I bothered to repair because this whole paint job was really more of an emotional thing rather than an actual home improvement where you get into doing the job right. All I wanted was instant gratification.
I should have known better.
So I bought my stain and figured I could just rub it onto the already painted wall, wipe it off, and all of the cracks would be accented just so.
I was wrong.
You see, even though my walls are full of cracks, it would seem that the stain doesn't necessarily understand what it's supposed to do. Hello, Stain? Crack. There.
Nope. It all just wiped right off. So...get this...I had to PAINT the cracks back on my wall with the stain. How crazy is that? I mean, if I didn't want the cracks to show, I'm sure they would be there glaring like the freaking crack of dawn! But no! Now that I want the cracks to show, no dice.
So, I paint all the cracks on. And I do the rub-it-in thing, trying to make my living room wall look like some villa in Tuscanny. And it turned out ok. For what it was supposed to be. And then I brought my hubby in to see what he thought.
Me: So, what do you think?
Hubby: What do you think? Translated: Hoo boy. I don't think I know the right answer to this question.
Me: Well, I guess it's what I was trying to do.
Hubby: Mmmmm... It looks good.Translated: I hope she's done asking questions.
Me: I'm just not sure if it fits the room or not.
Hubby: Yeah, that's what I think...I'm not sure either. Translated: If I get the next question right, maybe I'll get sex tonight.
Me: I was shooting for that "Old World" look but I just don't know if it fits...
Hubby: That's it! I was trying to place it and you just placed it for me.
Quiet time staring at the wall...
Hubby: It would look really good in a pizzaria.
Me:...?!
So, I decided to paint it over. Luckily, I only painted one wall with the "Old World" look so I only had one to repaint. Unfortunately, I was out of paint. The next day, I went back to Sears to get another quart of paint and, wouldn't you know, they don't sell that kind of paint in quarts. So's I have to buy a whole gallon. Except I can't because, wouldn't you know, they are out of that particular tint base.
Yay.
Fast forward to today.
Hubby decided to go skiing with the kids this afternoon. I, on the other hand, am of the opinion that if I want to freeze my patooty off, I can stay at home and do it for free. So I hatched a plan of sorts. I happened to have a $50 gift certificat for the Allentown Mall that's been hanging around since Christmas. I figured I could drop hubby off at the ski place and then go and spend my certificate. After that, I would go to the Sears in Allentown and maybe I could get another gallon of paint. And after that, I would kill some time at Borders because I LOVE BOOKSTORES! And then I would go to Friendly's and eat an ice cream while reading a book until it was time to pick up Hubby from skiing.
So that was the plan.
It all started to unravel just after we made the turn into the ski area. Once you turn off the road, it's about a quarter mile or so until you actually get to the lodge. We had only gone about 300 feet off the road when we spotted a chicken on the side of the road. A live chicken. Just doing chicken things. On the top of a mountain. In the middle of the woods. A chicken.
So I had to pull over.
It took us about 15 minutes, one bag of chocolate covered popcorn and a lot of strange looks from the folks coming to and leaving the ski area until we had the chicken. In the end, it was my Hubby's skillful weilding of a large stick that enabled him to squash the chicken enough for me to grab it.
Hubby: So...what do we do now?
Me: We take it home of course.
Hubby: I knew that.
We drove up to the lodge and Hubby stayed in the car with the chicken while I went in to try and score a box. I went to the ski store and asked a nice lady if she might have a box about so big as I gestured with my hands. She checked a back room and then another place and then another back room and finally came back with a box that was woefully inadequate. I said "Oh, thank you so much but that one is too small. You see, my husband and I found a chicken..." To which she cheerfully replied "Well, why didn't you say that to begin with?" And I'm thinking "Um, because you would think I'm a freak?" But I just laughed "Ho, ho...yes, a chicken..." And she went and found a suitable box for chicken transport.
I boxed up the chicken, kissed my Hubby goodbye and headed to the mall.
Now, for those of you who may never have had the chance to go to the Allentown Mall, or actually the Lehigh Valley Mall, it's one of the bigger malls in the area. It's got two whole floors of stores. Whoowee! I started on the second floor and worked my way around the mall, checking out the stores that I thought might have something I would like, and tried to make a decision. I ruled out clothes because I just didn't feel like trying anything on. I decided I would spend it on something that I normally wouldn't buy. I narrowed it down to a pair of boots (not really clothes, right?), a comforter for the bed and a nice ski jacket. Ok, so the jacket falls into the clothes category. And considering I just gave up an evening of skiing because I don't like to be cold, it probably doesn't seem like a wise choice. But maybe, just maybe, if I had a nice warm jacket in trendy colors, I would go skiing. Right?
Now, I've been hankering for a pair of tall black leather dressy boots for a few years now. I always have trouble finding ones I like because they have to look nice but also not hinder my ability to kick the crap out of an attacker or, at least, run away from an attacker of whom I failed to kick the crap out. Of. Oh, and they have to have a front made for people who's big toe is the longest toe, not the middle toe, like most women's footwear is these days. So, finally, after a really long search, I found a pair. And I really mulled this one over in my mind before I actually sent the shoe lady to look for my size. As luck would have it, they didn't have my size. They didn't have my size in the runner-up boot either. Finally, I picked one more and...nope. Ok, so no boots.
I went back to look at the jacket. I tried it on. I tried it on in a bigger size. I tried the other one on. After way too many minutes of this, I decided that, no, I don't need another jacket for not-skiing and I would go for the comforter instead.
Buoyed by my new ability to make a decision, I trotted off to Strawbridge's. I picked out the comforter - a lovely thing in a deep red color, so sexy, so chic - and carried it to the sales desk. They were having a huge storewide sale and I wasn't exactly sure if it was 40 or 50% off. The clerk rang it up and said it would come to $74. Not bad for a $250 comforter. And then I said "Oh, by the way, do you take mall gift certificates?" And she said "No, we do not."
With those four words she just stamped the last 3 - count 'em - 3 hours of my life with a big WASTE OF TIME stamp. I burst into tears and walked away, back to my car.
That still had a chicken in the back seat.
I jsut spent three hours in one of the largest malls in the area and could not spend $50. On anything. I am such a failure at being a girl.
I went to Sears and did manage to get my paint, but at this point in the evening, it was so late that I only had time to quickly go through the Wendy's drive thru - no Borders, no Friendly's - and go pick up my Hubby.
Just as I was heading out of Allentown he called.
Hubby: Hey.
Me: Hi. How was skiing?
Hubby: Ok. Some blood. But not on my head.
Me: Oh? Where?
Hubby: My arm. How's the chicken?
Me: Good enough. I mean, she's not dead or anything.
Hubby: Ok. Are you on your way?
Me: Yep. I'll see you soon.
So I picked up hubby and we headed home. We were pondering the circumstances that would bring a chicken to the top of the Blue Mountain and then decided that it must have been hiking the Appalachian Trail. Then we tried to think of a name for her. Hubby said it should have something to do with skiing so we settled on Suzie Drumstick. As in Suzie Chapstick. Yuk, yuk, yuk.
So we finally made it home and I carted the chicken inside. I let the two beagles out. I did a quick scan for Geri-dog, our old dog, in case he wanted to go out too. He, however, was sound asleep in the hallway. The whole time I'm thinking to myself "Man, it's really cold in here."
I went upstairs to take out my contacts and when I went to wash my hands there was no hot water. Great. The stoker went out. I told hubby and he went to have a looksey while I got changed into some nice, fresh cozy pajamas.
By the time I got back downstairs, Geri-dog decided that yes, he did in fact have to go pee and well why not just pee all over the floor instead of going out in the cold. I came down and found a small lake in front of the door.
Me: GAAAAAA!!!! Couldn't you wait two more seconds? You were fast asleep for cryin'' out loud.
All of this has little effect on Geri-dog because he's deaf. He just wags his tail, happy with his empty bladder.
I grabbed a bucket and sponge mop and mopped up Lake Geri-dog. Then I took the bucket in to our laundry room so I could empty it into the utility sink. I was just telling hubby to "Watch out 'cause this is going to be really gross" when the bucket started to topple.
Topple, topple, topple... I made a desperate attempt to grab it, got it upright, and then it slipped and landed SMACK! square on it's bottom in the utility sink. The force of the impact sent all the dog pee water into the air and then it came down, mostly on me.
And I just put nice, fresh, cozy pajamas on.
And I couldn't buy the comforter I wanted.
And they didn't have the boots in my size.
And I have a chicken in my laundry room.
Oh, yes, and the stoker is out. So, hot water for a shower? Afraid not.
It started off well enough. I didn't have work today and that's always a good thing, right?
So, in all fairness, I did not have a good evening today. Let's rewind to...let's say about 3 o'clock. No, wait... I actually have to rewind back two days.
As you might have read in the previous post, I have been working on a little painting project in my living room. Well, it's coming along alright but it kind of stalled out and here is why. I picked this...um, mustardy yellow color for the walls. I know, mustardy yellow doesn't really sound appealing to me either but it's not that bad. I think it's called Golden Valley or something like that but, really, Golden Valley doesn't give you the same understanding of the color as mustardy yellow does, I think.
Anyway...
I got the walls painted and I was thinking it needed a little something else for some pizzaz. So I figured I could try the old world look and rub a stain over the paint. You see, I have plaster walls in my living room and they are all full of cracks and such. None of which I bothered to repair because this whole paint job was really more of an emotional thing rather than an actual home improvement where you get into doing the job right. All I wanted was instant gratification.
I should have known better.
So I bought my stain and figured I could just rub it onto the already painted wall, wipe it off, and all of the cracks would be accented just so.
I was wrong.
You see, even though my walls are full of cracks, it would seem that the stain doesn't necessarily understand what it's supposed to do. Hello, Stain? Crack. There.
Nope. It all just wiped right off. So...get this...I had to PAINT the cracks back on my wall with the stain. How crazy is that? I mean, if I didn't want the cracks to show, I'm sure they would be there glaring like the freaking crack of dawn! But no! Now that I want the cracks to show, no dice.
So, I paint all the cracks on. And I do the rub-it-in thing, trying to make my living room wall look like some villa in Tuscanny. And it turned out ok. For what it was supposed to be. And then I brought my hubby in to see what he thought.
Me: So, what do you think?
Hubby: What do you think? Translated: Hoo boy. I don't think I know the right answer to this question.
Me: Well, I guess it's what I was trying to do.
Hubby: Mmmmm... It looks good.Translated: I hope she's done asking questions.
Me: I'm just not sure if it fits the room or not.
Hubby: Yeah, that's what I think...I'm not sure either. Translated: If I get the next question right, maybe I'll get sex tonight.
Me: I was shooting for that "Old World" look but I just don't know if it fits...
Hubby: That's it! I was trying to place it and you just placed it for me.
Quiet time staring at the wall...
Hubby: It would look really good in a pizzaria.
Me:...?!
So, I decided to paint it over. Luckily, I only painted one wall with the "Old World" look so I only had one to repaint. Unfortunately, I was out of paint. The next day, I went back to Sears to get another quart of paint and, wouldn't you know, they don't sell that kind of paint in quarts. So's I have to buy a whole gallon. Except I can't because, wouldn't you know, they are out of that particular tint base.
Yay.
Fast forward to today.
Hubby decided to go skiing with the kids this afternoon. I, on the other hand, am of the opinion that if I want to freeze my patooty off, I can stay at home and do it for free. So I hatched a plan of sorts. I happened to have a $50 gift certificat for the Allentown Mall that's been hanging around since Christmas. I figured I could drop hubby off at the ski place and then go and spend my certificate. After that, I would go to the Sears in Allentown and maybe I could get another gallon of paint. And after that, I would kill some time at Borders because I LOVE BOOKSTORES! And then I would go to Friendly's and eat an ice cream while reading a book until it was time to pick up Hubby from skiing.
So that was the plan.
It all started to unravel just after we made the turn into the ski area. Once you turn off the road, it's about a quarter mile or so until you actually get to the lodge. We had only gone about 300 feet off the road when we spotted a chicken on the side of the road. A live chicken. Just doing chicken things. On the top of a mountain. In the middle of the woods. A chicken.
So I had to pull over.
It took us about 15 minutes, one bag of chocolate covered popcorn and a lot of strange looks from the folks coming to and leaving the ski area until we had the chicken. In the end, it was my Hubby's skillful weilding of a large stick that enabled him to squash the chicken enough for me to grab it.
Hubby: So...what do we do now?
Me: We take it home of course.
Hubby: I knew that.
We drove up to the lodge and Hubby stayed in the car with the chicken while I went in to try and score a box. I went to the ski store and asked a nice lady if she might have a box about so big as I gestured with my hands. She checked a back room and then another place and then another back room and finally came back with a box that was woefully inadequate. I said "Oh, thank you so much but that one is too small. You see, my husband and I found a chicken..." To which she cheerfully replied "Well, why didn't you say that to begin with?" And I'm thinking "Um, because you would think I'm a freak?" But I just laughed "Ho, ho...yes, a chicken..." And she went and found a suitable box for chicken transport.
I boxed up the chicken, kissed my Hubby goodbye and headed to the mall.
Now, for those of you who may never have had the chance to go to the Allentown Mall, or actually the Lehigh Valley Mall, it's one of the bigger malls in the area. It's got two whole floors of stores. Whoowee! I started on the second floor and worked my way around the mall, checking out the stores that I thought might have something I would like, and tried to make a decision. I ruled out clothes because I just didn't feel like trying anything on. I decided I would spend it on something that I normally wouldn't buy. I narrowed it down to a pair of boots (not really clothes, right?), a comforter for the bed and a nice ski jacket. Ok, so the jacket falls into the clothes category. And considering I just gave up an evening of skiing because I don't like to be cold, it probably doesn't seem like a wise choice. But maybe, just maybe, if I had a nice warm jacket in trendy colors, I would go skiing. Right?
Now, I've been hankering for a pair of tall black leather dressy boots for a few years now. I always have trouble finding ones I like because they have to look nice but also not hinder my ability to kick the crap out of an attacker or, at least, run away from an attacker of whom I failed to kick the crap out. Of. Oh, and they have to have a front made for people who's big toe is the longest toe, not the middle toe, like most women's footwear is these days. So, finally, after a really long search, I found a pair. And I really mulled this one over in my mind before I actually sent the shoe lady to look for my size. As luck would have it, they didn't have my size. They didn't have my size in the runner-up boot either. Finally, I picked one more and...nope. Ok, so no boots.
I went back to look at the jacket. I tried it on. I tried it on in a bigger size. I tried the other one on. After way too many minutes of this, I decided that, no, I don't need another jacket for not-skiing and I would go for the comforter instead.
Buoyed by my new ability to make a decision, I trotted off to Strawbridge's. I picked out the comforter - a lovely thing in a deep red color, so sexy, so chic - and carried it to the sales desk. They were having a huge storewide sale and I wasn't exactly sure if it was 40 or 50% off. The clerk rang it up and said it would come to $74. Not bad for a $250 comforter. And then I said "Oh, by the way, do you take mall gift certificates?" And she said "No, we do not."
With those four words she just stamped the last 3 - count 'em - 3 hours of my life with a big WASTE OF TIME stamp. I burst into tears and walked away, back to my car.
That still had a chicken in the back seat.
I jsut spent three hours in one of the largest malls in the area and could not spend $50. On anything. I am such a failure at being a girl.
I went to Sears and did manage to get my paint, but at this point in the evening, it was so late that I only had time to quickly go through the Wendy's drive thru - no Borders, no Friendly's - and go pick up my Hubby.
Just as I was heading out of Allentown he called.
Hubby: Hey.
Me: Hi. How was skiing?
Hubby: Ok. Some blood. But not on my head.
Me: Oh? Where?
Hubby: My arm. How's the chicken?
Me: Good enough. I mean, she's not dead or anything.
Hubby: Ok. Are you on your way?
Me: Yep. I'll see you soon.
So I picked up hubby and we headed home. We were pondering the circumstances that would bring a chicken to the top of the Blue Mountain and then decided that it must have been hiking the Appalachian Trail. Then we tried to think of a name for her. Hubby said it should have something to do with skiing so we settled on Suzie Drumstick. As in Suzie Chapstick. Yuk, yuk, yuk.
So we finally made it home and I carted the chicken inside. I let the two beagles out. I did a quick scan for Geri-dog, our old dog, in case he wanted to go out too. He, however, was sound asleep in the hallway. The whole time I'm thinking to myself "Man, it's really cold in here."
I went upstairs to take out my contacts and when I went to wash my hands there was no hot water. Great. The stoker went out. I told hubby and he went to have a looksey while I got changed into some nice, fresh cozy pajamas.
By the time I got back downstairs, Geri-dog decided that yes, he did in fact have to go pee and well why not just pee all over the floor instead of going out in the cold. I came down and found a small lake in front of the door.
Me: GAAAAAA!!!! Couldn't you wait two more seconds? You were fast asleep for cryin'' out loud.
All of this has little effect on Geri-dog because he's deaf. He just wags his tail, happy with his empty bladder.
I grabbed a bucket and sponge mop and mopped up Lake Geri-dog. Then I took the bucket in to our laundry room so I could empty it into the utility sink. I was just telling hubby to "Watch out 'cause this is going to be really gross" when the bucket started to topple.
Topple, topple, topple... I made a desperate attempt to grab it, got it upright, and then it slipped and landed SMACK! square on it's bottom in the utility sink. The force of the impact sent all the dog pee water into the air and then it came down, mostly on me.
And I just put nice, fresh, cozy pajamas on.
And I couldn't buy the comforter I wanted.
And they didn't have the boots in my size.
And I have a chicken in my laundry room.
Oh, yes, and the stoker is out. So, hot water for a shower? Afraid not.
Monday, February 13, 2006
A Rather Long Post About Cats
If any of you have recently checked out my seestor's blog, you would see that she gave me rather lovely birthday tribute. Thank you, deeeer seestor, for that. It was a pleasant surprise.
Other than that wonderful gift, you are probably all wondering "What does someone like Mz. Qintessence do on her birthday?" Well...let me tell you...
I painted my living room.
Ok, it's not that bad - I actually wanted to paint my living room for my birthday. When hubby asked what I wanted as my present I said "Paint for the living room." And so, my birthday wish was fulfilled. I'm not quite finished with the project yet as it involves a kind of Basse danse of furniture and drop cloths. Hopefully by the end of the week...
Also, we went out for dinner and a movie. Awwwwwww........
At any rate...
Ok, it would seem as though I have some questions to answer regarding an indordinately large amount of expired felines that were, at one time or another, under my care.
It's true. I am a killer of cats.
BUT!
These were all accidental.
I know, you're probably thinking "Sure they are. One accident, maybe, but..."
No! It's true! I swear. I like cats. I really do. I would even go so far as to say I love certain cats. And this, you see, is where the problem stems from.
I like cats to the point of taking them in and trying to give them a good home. Maybe not necessarily inside my house, but a good home nonetheless. Over the years I've had...um... let me get my abacus...approximately 26.75 cats. Not all at one time, mind you. It's been over a span of 15 years.
So, you can see, when working with such a population, there are bound to be a few...accidents.
Our first cat, Zagnut, was a shelter cat. We got her when we found a mouse in our house. Our kids were still toddlers and, given the propensity for disater in my family, I didn't want to put out poison or traps. So, what's the next best thing? A cat, of course.
We picked her out at the local shelter because she looked pretty lively.
Yes. Well, she certainly was at that.
She was lively to the point of killing everything in the neighborhood. At that time, we lived in a row house. I remember my neighbor telling me that the neighbor next to him was getting a little upset because she liked to feed the birds and, well, I guess her yard was like Game Lands for Zagnut. One day, I was going out into the yard to hang laundry. The bird lady was visitng with the middle neighbor and they were sitting on his back porch. I stopped to chat awhile and, wouldn't you know, that's when Zagnut appeared with a rather large bird in her mouth. She stood on the wall between our porches, commanding everyone's attention, and then gracefully leaped down onto my neighbor's porch and trotted by the bird lady. I was mortified.
Eventually, Zagnut began to stalk bigger game, namely us. She would lie in wait in the dining room and when I had to dash through say, to check something in the oven, she would leap out at me, grab my legs and bite me, and then take off wildly out of the room.
Even though she tried to kill us on a regular basis, we loved our Zagnut. Unfortunately, she was too good of a hunter for the neighbors and we eventually put her into foster care with my sister. Zagnut settled happily in with her family, stalking them, until one day when she disappeared into the streets of Philadelphia. I have no doubt that she is now involved in some savage crime ring in the city.
Our next group of cats arrived after we moved into our present house. Again, it was a mouse issue that started the whole thing off. This time, I decided I would keep my eye out for a Siamese cat. Hubby and I both grew up with a Saimese. Siameses. Siami?
Anyway, I found an ad in the Allentown paper for a pair of 1 year old Siamese cats. Jackpot.
We went to a small apartment occupied by a young hippy-ish couple and came home with Simon and Simone. Who immediately got down to business and had a litter of kittens a few shorts months later.
Kittens I did not want. Fortunately, I was able to find homes for all 4 kittens. Also fortunately, I was able to make an appointment with the vet to get Simone spayed.
Unfortunately, no one told me that cats immediately go into heat again after they give birth.
Litter of Kittens - take 2.
This time, Simone had her kittens in one of the rooms upstairs. We tried to keep them contained to a bedroom and were doing pretty well with it until that one fateful evening (of course these things always happen after the vet's office is closed) when I was in the kitchen and heard a dull whap! in the hallway. As it turns out, one of the kittens wandered out of the room and slipped through the railing of the steps and down he went.
We named him Freefall.
This is the kitten I did mouth-to-muzzle resuscitation on. He wasn't doing too well and I spent that night with the little guy sleeping on my chest. (My husband has since tried to squeeze through the railing as well but no dice.) The next day I took him to the vet's office. The vet gave him a looksie and shot and said he should be fine. I really didn't want to go into work that afternoon but, alas, an injured kitten would not fly as an excuse. When I came home, Freefall was gone. As in dead.
I dreaded breaking the news to my kids because we had all been pulling for little Freefall. Finally, I couldn't avoid it any longer and I told them.
Me: Listen you two, I have some bad news. Freefall didn't make it.
Kids: blank stare
Me: So, um...we're going to have to bury him.
Kids: blank stare
Me:
And then finally...
Son: Couldn't we make a stew with him or something?
Me: GAAAAA!
We did keep one of the kittens from this litter. Hugo lived with us for a few years until, again, one fateful evening...
This was just a few days after my father died so, you'll have to forgive us, we weren't really thinking clearly. We were all getting ready for something or other - I can't even remember anymore - and I had some clothes in our then malfunctioning dryer. The problem with the dryer was that you had to run it for a cycle - during which the clothes wouldn't really dry - and then let it cool for a bit and then run it again. And, of course, the quickest way to cool the dryer is to let the door open. And, of course, cats like to crawl into dark, warm places.
I think you can all see where this is going so I'll spare you the details.
Suffice it to say, Hugo was definitely dry-clean only.
It was somewhere in this whole mix that my daughter - the lovely little imp - tried to pet some wild kittens after soccer practice one day. She got close enough to get bitten and then to watch the kittens scamper off into the woods, leaving us to wonder "Just when do we start the rabies shots?"
As it turns out, you start them within 10 days. Because, you know, you can't take your kids anywhere when they are frothing at the mouth.
In hopes of avoiding RABIES SHOTS!!!, I borrowed a trap from the local animal shelter and tried to catch the kittens. The first night, I caught the mom. I didn't know what to do with her so I brought her home and put her in our chicken pen. From which she promptly escaped. Well.
The next morning, I checked my trap (at least once every 24 hours like a good trapper should) to find a little white kitten with gray spots. Bingo! For my daughter said it was a white kitten that bit her. I proudly brought the trap and kitten home, knowing I could now spare my daughter that fate that every child fears - "Don't touch that cat! It might have rabies! Then you'll have to get RABIES SHOTS!!!" dum, dum dum...
So I show her the kitten and she tells me "There were two white ones. I'm not sure if this is the one."
Sigh. Back to the woods.
The next night I caught a possum. Opossum. Which, for some reason, started a thing in our family where we say "Possum, possum, O! possum!"
Anyway... it was becoming uncomfortably close to the 10 day mark so I finally had to take dear daughter for her rabies shots. As it turns out, it's not nearly as bad as it used to be. No shots in the stomach any more. Now it's just a shot in the butt, one in each arm, and a great big one to the wallet. Because for some reason, Blue Cross & Blue Shield don't consider a pre-emptive strike on a disease that will most certainly kill you in a rather uncomfortable way something worth covering. Go figure.
And, wouldn't you know, the next morning the two remaining kittens were in the trap.
So that is how we got Ed, Rascal and Fang. Go ahead and guess which one bit her.
Since they were so young, I couldn't get a vet to spay or neuter them right away. And since I was concurrently dealing with the Siamese plague in my house, I decided that the wild kittens could, indeed, stay wild. I took them for their shots and figured I would feed them - thusly winning their trust - and would then take them to get fixed when they were old enough.
As it turns out, Fang was the only one willing to give her heart in exchange for food. Ed turned out to be a huge cat, quite capable of taking down cows at the neighboring farms and, while he would let us pet him, there was no way you could pick him up and get him into a cat carrier.
Rascal - the little hussy - was super wary and even more prolific. I did eventually catch her, but not until she added another 2 litters of kittens to the population.
She was also very crafty at hiding her kittens, assuring that we wouldn't find them until they were quite mobile and just as wary as she. It took a lot of time - and a lot of dollars - but I eventually caught all of her offspring and managed to get them fixed. Not wanting to dump them all on the local shelter, we decided to keep them as our farm cats. They always had a building to sleep in and plenty of food, and still had the joy of being a wild cat. It almost brings a tear to the eye...
And let me tell you, nothing brings tears to the eye like getting a cat fixed and finding it several weeks later, run over by a car. Because that's what invariably happens. Either that or you accidentaly close a car door on their head. Because that happens too. At least to me.
So, after what we now refer to as the "dryer incident", we got two more inside cats from the local SPCA - Fred and Sonya. Fred is a great, big bray cat with very yellow eyes and he is evil personified. Catified. Whatever. Sonya is a dainty calico whom we refer to as the silent film star due to her habit of making meowing motions at you with no sound attached.
Here they are...
Miss Sonya
and...
The Evil Fred.
And two of our current...um, six I think...outside cats.
Fang and Oddball
By the way, when I mentioned we had 26.75 cats, Fang is the 0.75. She is the 3 legged cat, a result, I think, of either a fight with another animal or a fight with a trap.
And last, and least in a way - size wise, anyway - is Victor, our 3rd inside cat. He was really supposed to be an outside cat but he's just so darn little and so darn cute that we took him in. Too bad we didn't know before hand what a little bastard he would turn out to be.
Victor the Little Black Bastard - all dressed up and no place to go
So you see, dear readers, that while I must admit some felines have met an untimely demise at my hands, it was never on purpose. And, when you average it out, hopefully I've done less harm than good.
Meow.
Other than that wonderful gift, you are probably all wondering "What does someone like Mz. Qintessence do on her birthday?" Well...let me tell you...
I painted my living room.
Ok, it's not that bad - I actually wanted to paint my living room for my birthday. When hubby asked what I wanted as my present I said "Paint for the living room." And so, my birthday wish was fulfilled. I'm not quite finished with the project yet as it involves a kind of Basse danse of furniture and drop cloths. Hopefully by the end of the week...
Also, we went out for dinner and a movie. Awwwwwww........
At any rate...
Ok, it would seem as though I have some questions to answer regarding an indordinately large amount of expired felines that were, at one time or another, under my care.
It's true. I am a killer of cats.
BUT!
These were all accidental.
I know, you're probably thinking "Sure they are. One accident, maybe, but..."
No! It's true! I swear. I like cats. I really do. I would even go so far as to say I love certain cats. And this, you see, is where the problem stems from.
I like cats to the point of taking them in and trying to give them a good home. Maybe not necessarily inside my house, but a good home nonetheless. Over the years I've had...um... let me get my abacus...approximately 26.75 cats. Not all at one time, mind you. It's been over a span of 15 years.
So, you can see, when working with such a population, there are bound to be a few...accidents.
Our first cat, Zagnut, was a shelter cat. We got her when we found a mouse in our house. Our kids were still toddlers and, given the propensity for disater in my family, I didn't want to put out poison or traps. So, what's the next best thing? A cat, of course.
We picked her out at the local shelter because she looked pretty lively.
Yes. Well, she certainly was at that.
She was lively to the point of killing everything in the neighborhood. At that time, we lived in a row house. I remember my neighbor telling me that the neighbor next to him was getting a little upset because she liked to feed the birds and, well, I guess her yard was like Game Lands for Zagnut. One day, I was going out into the yard to hang laundry. The bird lady was visitng with the middle neighbor and they were sitting on his back porch. I stopped to chat awhile and, wouldn't you know, that's when Zagnut appeared with a rather large bird in her mouth. She stood on the wall between our porches, commanding everyone's attention, and then gracefully leaped down onto my neighbor's porch and trotted by the bird lady. I was mortified.
Eventually, Zagnut began to stalk bigger game, namely us. She would lie in wait in the dining room and when I had to dash through say, to check something in the oven, she would leap out at me, grab my legs and bite me, and then take off wildly out of the room.
Even though she tried to kill us on a regular basis, we loved our Zagnut. Unfortunately, she was too good of a hunter for the neighbors and we eventually put her into foster care with my sister. Zagnut settled happily in with her family, stalking them, until one day when she disappeared into the streets of Philadelphia. I have no doubt that she is now involved in some savage crime ring in the city.
Our next group of cats arrived after we moved into our present house. Again, it was a mouse issue that started the whole thing off. This time, I decided I would keep my eye out for a Siamese cat. Hubby and I both grew up with a Saimese. Siameses. Siami?
Anyway, I found an ad in the Allentown paper for a pair of 1 year old Siamese cats. Jackpot.
We went to a small apartment occupied by a young hippy-ish couple and came home with Simon and Simone. Who immediately got down to business and had a litter of kittens a few shorts months later.
Kittens I did not want. Fortunately, I was able to find homes for all 4 kittens. Also fortunately, I was able to make an appointment with the vet to get Simone spayed.
Unfortunately, no one told me that cats immediately go into heat again after they give birth.
Litter of Kittens - take 2.
This time, Simone had her kittens in one of the rooms upstairs. We tried to keep them contained to a bedroom and were doing pretty well with it until that one fateful evening (of course these things always happen after the vet's office is closed) when I was in the kitchen and heard a dull whap! in the hallway. As it turns out, one of the kittens wandered out of the room and slipped through the railing of the steps and down he went.
We named him Freefall.
This is the kitten I did mouth-to-muzzle resuscitation on. He wasn't doing too well and I spent that night with the little guy sleeping on my chest. (My husband has since tried to squeeze through the railing as well but no dice.) The next day I took him to the vet's office. The vet gave him a looksie and shot and said he should be fine. I really didn't want to go into work that afternoon but, alas, an injured kitten would not fly as an excuse. When I came home, Freefall was gone. As in dead.
I dreaded breaking the news to my kids because we had all been pulling for little Freefall. Finally, I couldn't avoid it any longer and I told them.
Me: Listen you two, I have some bad news. Freefall didn't make it.
Kids: blank stare
Me: So, um...we're going to have to bury him.
Kids: blank stare
Me:
And then finally...
Son: Couldn't we make a stew with him or something?
Me: GAAAAA!
We did keep one of the kittens from this litter. Hugo lived with us for a few years until, again, one fateful evening...
This was just a few days after my father died so, you'll have to forgive us, we weren't really thinking clearly. We were all getting ready for something or other - I can't even remember anymore - and I had some clothes in our then malfunctioning dryer. The problem with the dryer was that you had to run it for a cycle - during which the clothes wouldn't really dry - and then let it cool for a bit and then run it again. And, of course, the quickest way to cool the dryer is to let the door open. And, of course, cats like to crawl into dark, warm places.
I think you can all see where this is going so I'll spare you the details.
Suffice it to say, Hugo was definitely dry-clean only.
It was somewhere in this whole mix that my daughter - the lovely little imp - tried to pet some wild kittens after soccer practice one day. She got close enough to get bitten and then to watch the kittens scamper off into the woods, leaving us to wonder "Just when do we start the rabies shots?"
As it turns out, you start them within 10 days. Because, you know, you can't take your kids anywhere when they are frothing at the mouth.
In hopes of avoiding RABIES SHOTS!!!, I borrowed a trap from the local animal shelter and tried to catch the kittens. The first night, I caught the mom. I didn't know what to do with her so I brought her home and put her in our chicken pen. From which she promptly escaped. Well.
The next morning, I checked my trap (at least once every 24 hours like a good trapper should) to find a little white kitten with gray spots. Bingo! For my daughter said it was a white kitten that bit her. I proudly brought the trap and kitten home, knowing I could now spare my daughter that fate that every child fears - "Don't touch that cat! It might have rabies! Then you'll have to get RABIES SHOTS!!!" dum, dum dum...
So I show her the kitten and she tells me "There were two white ones. I'm not sure if this is the one."
Sigh. Back to the woods.
The next night I caught a possum. Opossum. Which, for some reason, started a thing in our family where we say "Possum, possum, O! possum!"
Anyway... it was becoming uncomfortably close to the 10 day mark so I finally had to take dear daughter for her rabies shots. As it turns out, it's not nearly as bad as it used to be. No shots in the stomach any more. Now it's just a shot in the butt, one in each arm, and a great big one to the wallet. Because for some reason, Blue Cross & Blue Shield don't consider a pre-emptive strike on a disease that will most certainly kill you in a rather uncomfortable way something worth covering. Go figure.
And, wouldn't you know, the next morning the two remaining kittens were in the trap.
So that is how we got Ed, Rascal and Fang. Go ahead and guess which one bit her.
Since they were so young, I couldn't get a vet to spay or neuter them right away. And since I was concurrently dealing with the Siamese plague in my house, I decided that the wild kittens could, indeed, stay wild. I took them for their shots and figured I would feed them - thusly winning their trust - and would then take them to get fixed when they were old enough.
As it turns out, Fang was the only one willing to give her heart in exchange for food. Ed turned out to be a huge cat, quite capable of taking down cows at the neighboring farms and, while he would let us pet him, there was no way you could pick him up and get him into a cat carrier.
Rascal - the little hussy - was super wary and even more prolific. I did eventually catch her, but not until she added another 2 litters of kittens to the population.
She was also very crafty at hiding her kittens, assuring that we wouldn't find them until they were quite mobile and just as wary as she. It took a lot of time - and a lot of dollars - but I eventually caught all of her offspring and managed to get them fixed. Not wanting to dump them all on the local shelter, we decided to keep them as our farm cats. They always had a building to sleep in and plenty of food, and still had the joy of being a wild cat. It almost brings a tear to the eye...
And let me tell you, nothing brings tears to the eye like getting a cat fixed and finding it several weeks later, run over by a car. Because that's what invariably happens. Either that or you accidentaly close a car door on their head. Because that happens too. At least to me.
So, after what we now refer to as the "dryer incident", we got two more inside cats from the local SPCA - Fred and Sonya. Fred is a great, big bray cat with very yellow eyes and he is evil personified. Catified. Whatever. Sonya is a dainty calico whom we refer to as the silent film star due to her habit of making meowing motions at you with no sound attached.
Here they are...
Miss Sonya
and...
The Evil Fred.
And two of our current...um, six I think...outside cats.
Fang and Oddball
By the way, when I mentioned we had 26.75 cats, Fang is the 0.75. She is the 3 legged cat, a result, I think, of either a fight with another animal or a fight with a trap.
And last, and least in a way - size wise, anyway - is Victor, our 3rd inside cat. He was really supposed to be an outside cat but he's just so darn little and so darn cute that we took him in. Too bad we didn't know before hand what a little bastard he would turn out to be.
Victor the Little Black Bastard - all dressed up and no place to go
So you see, dear readers, that while I must admit some felines have met an untimely demise at my hands, it was never on purpose. And, when you average it out, hopefully I've done less harm than good.
Meow.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Vice President Bing Bing Bing!
Ricochet Cheney.
In case you haven't heard, our illustrious Vice President
Big Dick Cheney was out hunting quail and "accidentally" shot an attornery in the face.
Yes, you heard me.
He was able to mistake this...
for this...
Go figure.
This ought to really make us look good in the eyes of the rest of the world.
In case you haven't heard, our illustrious Vice President
Big Dick Cheney was out hunting quail and "accidentally" shot an attornery in the face.
Yes, you heard me.
He was able to mistake this...
for this...
Go figure.
This ought to really make us look good in the eyes of the rest of the world.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Hi...remember me?
Ok...it's another meme thing.
And really, it couldn't have come along at a better time for just this very morning I was looking in my medicine cabinet crying "Oh Muse! Where are you?" But alas, the medicing cabinet was empty. Well, empty except for various hygiene type items that, while they will keep one's self spic and span, do nothing for the muse. Cleanliness may indeed be next to Godliness but certainly not museliness.
And so, I can thank my dear seestor for giving me a kick in the patoot.
Four Jobs I've Had
1. Concession stand at the cinema in the local mall. Not nearly as exciting as you would think. The best perk to this job was making the cheese for the nachos and cheese. I always added a lot of jalepeno pepper juice. Yum!
2. Taking pictures of children on Santa's lap - also at the local mall. This is the first and only time I ever met someone who actually ate cranberry sauce on turkey. It was Santa Claus and he put it on his turkey leftover sandwich after Thankgiving.
3. Substitute teacher. I'm still in therapy for this and I can't really talk about it just yet.
4. Making plastic plumbing parts. This was my graveyard shift job. It was loud, smelled bad but I think it helped build character. At the very least, I know a lot more about plumbing parts now.
Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over
1. The Sound of Music - I can also sing along to all of the songs.
2. The Nightmare Before Christmas
3. Bringing Up Baby
4. Raising Arizona
Four Places I've Lived
1. Frackville, PA - My hometown.
2. Philadelphia, PA - a brief college tour
3. Mahanoy City, PA - ...um...good block parties
4. Barnesville, PA - Sanctuary!
Four TV Shows I Love
Ok, for obvious reasons, these will all be older shows...
1. Cheers
2. The Brady Bunch - Why just this very day I had the opportunity to say "Baby talk! Baby talk! It's a wonder you can walk!"
3. Taxi
4. Looney Toons
Four Places I've Vacationed
1. Niagra Falls - where I had the bejeezus scared out of me just looking at it.
2. Grassroots Music Festival
3. Cape Cod
4. Ireland
My Four Favorite Dishes
1. Garlic with pasta - yes, in that order
2. Garlic with brocolli
3. Garlic with garlic
4. Garlic with garlic and cheese
Four Websites I Visit Daily
1. My Seestor's Blog
2. www.google.com
3. www.yahoo.com
4. wwww.wnep.com
Four Places I'd Rather Be
1. In a hot tub.
2. In a bookstore with a good cupa.
3. Greece
4. Italy
Four People I'm Tagging
Well, I only know a few with blogs that I can tag so...
1. d.b. echo...sorry
2. cousins...make your hubby do it too. That way it counts as two for me!
and...
3. Kenny! Ha! I know you're out there. And don't give me the old "I don't have a blog" excuse. You can post your answers in the comments. Better yet, start a blog!
And really, it couldn't have come along at a better time for just this very morning I was looking in my medicine cabinet crying "Oh Muse! Where are you?" But alas, the medicing cabinet was empty. Well, empty except for various hygiene type items that, while they will keep one's self spic and span, do nothing for the muse. Cleanliness may indeed be next to Godliness but certainly not museliness.
And so, I can thank my dear seestor for giving me a kick in the patoot.
Four Jobs I've Had
1. Concession stand at the cinema in the local mall. Not nearly as exciting as you would think. The best perk to this job was making the cheese for the nachos and cheese. I always added a lot of jalepeno pepper juice. Yum!
2. Taking pictures of children on Santa's lap - also at the local mall. This is the first and only time I ever met someone who actually ate cranberry sauce on turkey. It was Santa Claus and he put it on his turkey leftover sandwich after Thankgiving.
3. Substitute teacher. I'm still in therapy for this and I can't really talk about it just yet.
4. Making plastic plumbing parts. This was my graveyard shift job. It was loud, smelled bad but I think it helped build character. At the very least, I know a lot more about plumbing parts now.
Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over
1. The Sound of Music - I can also sing along to all of the songs.
2. The Nightmare Before Christmas
3. Bringing Up Baby
4. Raising Arizona
Four Places I've Lived
1. Frackville, PA - My hometown.
2. Philadelphia, PA - a brief college tour
3. Mahanoy City, PA - ...um...good block parties
4. Barnesville, PA - Sanctuary!
Four TV Shows I Love
Ok, for obvious reasons, these will all be older shows...
1. Cheers
2. The Brady Bunch - Why just this very day I had the opportunity to say "Baby talk! Baby talk! It's a wonder you can walk!"
3. Taxi
4. Looney Toons
Four Places I've Vacationed
1. Niagra Falls - where I had the bejeezus scared out of me just looking at it.
2. Grassroots Music Festival
3. Cape Cod
4. Ireland
My Four Favorite Dishes
1. Garlic with pasta - yes, in that order
2. Garlic with brocolli
3. Garlic with garlic
4. Garlic with garlic and cheese
Four Websites I Visit Daily
1. My Seestor's Blog
2. www.google.com
3. www.yahoo.com
4. wwww.wnep.com
Four Places I'd Rather Be
1. In a hot tub.
2. In a bookstore with a good cupa.
3. Greece
4. Italy
Four People I'm Tagging
Well, I only know a few with blogs that I can tag so...
1. d.b. echo...sorry
2. cousins...make your hubby do it too. That way it counts as two for me!
and...
3. Kenny! Ha! I know you're out there. And don't give me the old "I don't have a blog" excuse. You can post your answers in the comments. Better yet, start a blog!
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Music and Counselling
Alright, so yesterday hubby and I had a date at the Hometown Farmer's Market. He didn't get off work until 6 so I caught a ride over a little bit earlier with my mom and figured I'd just browse around a bit until he showed up.
I came across a stand where a guy was selling DVDs and CDs - the music kind, not the savings kind - and, well you all know how I am about music. The CDs were only $4 each and I thought "Surely I can find something for me!" So I start flipping through the selection.
Things were looking grim. I was really hoping to find one along the order of "70's Greatest Disco Hits" or maybe "Getting Down With You Bad Self Funk", for house cleaning, you know. It's really motivating. However, it was really slim pickin's, even for the likes of me.
Whilst I was searching, I could overhear the conversation between the guy manning the booth and a buddy of his. As it turns out, Buddy is apparantly divorced and sharing custody of his children with his X. Booth Guy was counselling him on making sure to let his employer know that he's all caught up on the back support. Poor Buddy was attempting to listen but he was trying to wrap his mind around why, when he has the kids, they always need a pair of sneakers or something..."I mean, I send her support. Where is that going?"
Finally I found it. "Gospel Legends" featuring Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Golden Gate Quartet, Mahalia Jackson and Many More! I don't have any old timey gospel music so I thought this would be a good start.
I checked through the rest of the CDs - just in case - and figured I'd made the best selection, considering the options. I dug through my pusre for $4 and turned to the guy manning the booth. He was a biggish sort of fellow with some kind of unremarkable t-shirt under a flannel shirt, all topped off with an Eagles baseball cap. He was standing - bag at the ready - waiting for me. I handed him the CD and my $4.
He took everything and looked at the CD.
He looked at me.
He looked at the back of the CD.
He looked at me.
He looked back at the CD like he was carefully contemplating what he would say. Finally...
Booth Guy: I have some christian music right here...
I look at two stacks of CDs.
Me: No thanks, I'd like the gospel music, please.
He looks back at the CD, shrugs and starts to put it into the bag.
Booth Guy: You look a little bit young to be listening to gospel music.
As I took the bag from him I said "I know...but I'll be careful. Bye."
At that point I turned and walked away, leaving him to wonder "Just what the hell was that all about, Alfie?"
Next week I'm going back for the Helen Reddy CD.
I came across a stand where a guy was selling DVDs and CDs - the music kind, not the savings kind - and, well you all know how I am about music. The CDs were only $4 each and I thought "Surely I can find something for me!" So I start flipping through the selection.
Things were looking grim. I was really hoping to find one along the order of "70's Greatest Disco Hits" or maybe "Getting Down With You Bad Self Funk", for house cleaning, you know. It's really motivating. However, it was really slim pickin's, even for the likes of me.
Whilst I was searching, I could overhear the conversation between the guy manning the booth and a buddy of his. As it turns out, Buddy is apparantly divorced and sharing custody of his children with his X. Booth Guy was counselling him on making sure to let his employer know that he's all caught up on the back support. Poor Buddy was attempting to listen but he was trying to wrap his mind around why, when he has the kids, they always need a pair of sneakers or something..."I mean, I send her support. Where is that going?"
Finally I found it. "Gospel Legends" featuring Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Golden Gate Quartet, Mahalia Jackson and Many More! I don't have any old timey gospel music so I thought this would be a good start.
I checked through the rest of the CDs - just in case - and figured I'd made the best selection, considering the options. I dug through my pusre for $4 and turned to the guy manning the booth. He was a biggish sort of fellow with some kind of unremarkable t-shirt under a flannel shirt, all topped off with an Eagles baseball cap. He was standing - bag at the ready - waiting for me. I handed him the CD and my $4.
He took everything and looked at the CD.
He looked at me.
He looked at the back of the CD.
He looked at me.
He looked back at the CD like he was carefully contemplating what he would say. Finally...
Booth Guy: I have some christian music right here...
I look at two stacks of CDs.
Me: No thanks, I'd like the gospel music, please.
He looks back at the CD, shrugs and starts to put it into the bag.
Booth Guy: You look a little bit young to be listening to gospel music.
As I took the bag from him I said "I know...but I'll be careful. Bye."
At that point I turned and walked away, leaving him to wonder "Just what the hell was that all about, Alfie?"
Next week I'm going back for the Helen Reddy CD.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Because I Am A Professional
Here's an amusing little anecdote.
Today I was at work, fielding calls from the various folks dabbling in real estate, when I get a phone call from a client who recently closed on a building. The building he bought was loaded - and I mean loaded - with all kinds of stuff including 3 full size church organs. All of the assorted treasures came along with the building.
When he first put the offer in on it, there was a good bit of discussion as to what would be the best way to deal with everything inside. Ebay, auctions, dumpsters...everything was considered. Even the free ads in the newspaper. But for some reason, everything always circled back to the organs. I guess because...well...an organ. And not just one, but three. How do you find homes for three organs?
I mentioned that there were one or two items that I would be willing to buy when he got around to cleaning it out. And that was that.
Until today.
There I am, sitting at my desk, being all professional and everything, cutting real estate deals right and left, impressing my co-workers with not only my fluent knowledge of the business, but human nature as well, when he calls.
Client: Hey, are you still interested in those things in the building I bought?
Me: Sure. Are you starting to clean it out?
Client: Well, pretty soon. I think I might have an auction but I figured I'd let you take what you wanted first.
Me: Well that's awfully nice of you. Just let me know when you're at the property and I can come by to pick everything up.
Client: Ok. I should be there in a couple of days.
Me: Ok. Just call me here or on my cell.
Client: There's just one thing...
Me: What's that?
Client: Well, for each item you want, you have to take an organ.
and me, without missing a beat...
Me: I wouldn't have any idea where to even put an organ.
ahem
This is the point where all my co-workers landed on the floor, doubled in laughter.
Me: I can't believe I just said that.
Client: What?
Me: Nevermind.
Today I was at work, fielding calls from the various folks dabbling in real estate, when I get a phone call from a client who recently closed on a building. The building he bought was loaded - and I mean loaded - with all kinds of stuff including 3 full size church organs. All of the assorted treasures came along with the building.
When he first put the offer in on it, there was a good bit of discussion as to what would be the best way to deal with everything inside. Ebay, auctions, dumpsters...everything was considered. Even the free ads in the newspaper. But for some reason, everything always circled back to the organs. I guess because...well...an organ. And not just one, but three. How do you find homes for three organs?
I mentioned that there were one or two items that I would be willing to buy when he got around to cleaning it out. And that was that.
Until today.
There I am, sitting at my desk, being all professional and everything, cutting real estate deals right and left, impressing my co-workers with not only my fluent knowledge of the business, but human nature as well, when he calls.
Client: Hey, are you still interested in those things in the building I bought?
Me: Sure. Are you starting to clean it out?
Client: Well, pretty soon. I think I might have an auction but I figured I'd let you take what you wanted first.
Me: Well that's awfully nice of you. Just let me know when you're at the property and I can come by to pick everything up.
Client: Ok. I should be there in a couple of days.
Me: Ok. Just call me here or on my cell.
Client: There's just one thing...
Me: What's that?
Client: Well, for each item you want, you have to take an organ.
and me, without missing a beat...
Me: I wouldn't have any idea where to even put an organ.
ahem
This is the point where all my co-workers landed on the floor, doubled in laughter.
Me: I can't believe I just said that.
Client: What?
Me: Nevermind.
Friday, January 06, 2006
My Exciting Life
I don't want to fan the flames of jealousy here or anything, but I just wanted to give a little update on what Ms. Quintessence has been up to this new year.
Let's start at the beginning, shall we? And I mean the very beginning - those first few exciting, romantic seconds of the New Year that, as some superstitions have it, determine how you will spend the rest of the year.
So, if legend serves us right, where will Ms. Quintessence spend the bulk of 2006? Partying it up in the Big Apple? Nooooo.
Jet setting off to far and distant lands?
Nooooo.
Revelling in the streets with drunken friends?
No.
Judging by my first few moments of the New Year, it would seem that a job at a power plant must be in my near future because, yes, that's where I rang in 2006.
As it turned out, hubby had to work New Year's Eve (and into New Year's Dawn). So I made a nice batch of chocolately chip brownies and son and I took them there for hubby and the rest of the crew. (Daughter didn't go along because she had a better offer in advance.) We brought the Anatomically Correct Clock - which was brought to our house by friends attending previous parties at our house where we have to call someone who actually has a television to walk us through the countdown. So I, along with son, hubby and the rest of the midnight crew at the power plant, greeted 2006 with mouths full of brownie. Then hubby took me and son on a tour of the plant, which I wish I could have paid more attention to but I was kind of like that mouse in the cartoons that is watching the unfolding of the elaborate trap the cat has made. You know, the one that includes at least one bowling ball and one iron?
Anyway, moving right along.
I'm just going to skip the work part of the new year because that's a given.
What else...what else...
Oh! Hubby and I also went grocery shopping! And this was exciting because I bought two different varieties of pomegranate juice. And ginger snaps. Something I hardly ever do. I was so worn out from the excitiment, I came home and went to bed. Whew!
Alright, I admit it - it may not sound like much fun to some people. And perhaps it's not. But, dear readers, it's all in the approach, yes? What I mean is, it doesn't matter what we do or where we are as long as we canbe with the ones we love, right?
But, yet...
I still needed something a little fun and even a bit mischievous.
What to do? What to to? I went about my daily routine and suddenly it came upon me. While I was going about the business of weeding through the books in our library, opportunity presented itself to me. I realized I was standing there with a paperback Bible in my hand and so, I did what any fun loving, mischievous keeper of books would do.
I slipped it in between Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead.
Let's start at the beginning, shall we? And I mean the very beginning - those first few exciting, romantic seconds of the New Year that, as some superstitions have it, determine how you will spend the rest of the year.
So, if legend serves us right, where will Ms. Quintessence spend the bulk of 2006? Partying it up in the Big Apple? Nooooo.
Jet setting off to far and distant lands?
Nooooo.
Revelling in the streets with drunken friends?
No.
Judging by my first few moments of the New Year, it would seem that a job at a power plant must be in my near future because, yes, that's where I rang in 2006.
As it turned out, hubby had to work New Year's Eve (and into New Year's Dawn). So I made a nice batch of chocolately chip brownies and son and I took them there for hubby and the rest of the crew. (Daughter didn't go along because she had a better offer in advance.) We brought the Anatomically Correct Clock - which was brought to our house by friends attending previous parties at our house where we have to call someone who actually has a television to walk us through the countdown. So I, along with son, hubby and the rest of the midnight crew at the power plant, greeted 2006 with mouths full of brownie. Then hubby took me and son on a tour of the plant, which I wish I could have paid more attention to but I was kind of like that mouse in the cartoons that is watching the unfolding of the elaborate trap the cat has made. You know, the one that includes at least one bowling ball and one iron?
Anyway, moving right along.
I'm just going to skip the work part of the new year because that's a given.
What else...what else...
Oh! Hubby and I also went grocery shopping! And this was exciting because I bought two different varieties of pomegranate juice. And ginger snaps. Something I hardly ever do. I was so worn out from the excitiment, I came home and went to bed. Whew!
Alright, I admit it - it may not sound like much fun to some people. And perhaps it's not. But, dear readers, it's all in the approach, yes? What I mean is, it doesn't matter what we do or where we are as long as we canbe with the ones we love, right?
But, yet...
I still needed something a little fun and even a bit mischievous.
What to do? What to to? I went about my daily routine and suddenly it came upon me. While I was going about the business of weeding through the books in our library, opportunity presented itself to me. I realized I was standing there with a paperback Bible in my hand and so, I did what any fun loving, mischievous keeper of books would do.
I slipped it in between Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
All But One
All but one died.
Can you even begin to imagine?
I am so sad for the families of those poor men.
all your daylight i dig in darkness
you feel the wind while i break the stone
in the blackness far below you
my blood runs through veins of coal
veins of coal, veins of coal
my blood runs through veins of coal
a shaft of daylight collapsed behind us
sirens scream up the valley, families moan
in the blackness my breath is fading
in an ocean of frozen stone
frozen stone, frozen stone
in an ocean of frozen stone
do you hear a canary
in a cage in a cave under ground
is she crying or is she singing
in a cage in a cave under ground
i can see you move my body
not connected to my soul
i am floating right beside you
though you touch me i am alone
i'm alone, i'm alone
though you touch me i am alone
do you hear a canary
in a cage in a cave under ground
is she dying or is she sleeping
in a cage in a cave under ground
carry me high into the mountains
pray the Good Lord takes my soul
do not place me beneath the surface
i have been there for far too long
far to long, far too long
i have been there for far too long
let the wind blow through my rib cage
let the sunshine bleach my skull
some day my tears will reach the ocean
and my bones will turn into coal
turn to coal, turn to coal
and my bones will turn to coal
turn to coal, turn to coal
and my bones will turn to coal
-richie stearns
Can you even begin to imagine?
I am so sad for the families of those poor men.
all your daylight i dig in darkness
you feel the wind while i break the stone
in the blackness far below you
my blood runs through veins of coal
veins of coal, veins of coal
my blood runs through veins of coal
a shaft of daylight collapsed behind us
sirens scream up the valley, families moan
in the blackness my breath is fading
in an ocean of frozen stone
frozen stone, frozen stone
in an ocean of frozen stone
do you hear a canary
in a cage in a cave under ground
is she crying or is she singing
in a cage in a cave under ground
i can see you move my body
not connected to my soul
i am floating right beside you
though you touch me i am alone
i'm alone, i'm alone
though you touch me i am alone
do you hear a canary
in a cage in a cave under ground
is she dying or is she sleeping
in a cage in a cave under ground
carry me high into the mountains
pray the Good Lord takes my soul
do not place me beneath the surface
i have been there for far too long
far to long, far too long
i have been there for far too long
let the wind blow through my rib cage
let the sunshine bleach my skull
some day my tears will reach the ocean
and my bones will turn into coal
turn to coal, turn to coal
and my bones will turn to coal
turn to coal, turn to coal
and my bones will turn to coal
-richie stearns
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Saturday, December 31, 2005
The End Of The Year Post
Hi everyone.
I trust you all had a Merry Christmas, Spiritual Solstice, Happy Hanukkah, Joyful Kwanza, Wonderful Boxing Day...did I miss anyone? I'm sure I have. Well, whatever holiday you celebrate, I hope it was a good one.
So, we are in the last hours of 2005.
Anyone care to say anything special?
...
Ok...I guess since it is my blog, I should do the saying.
In order to make my drivel a little more enjoyable, I will intersperse a photo tour of our Christmas/Winter Solstice/holidy tree among my comments.
And away we go!
First, I think it would be good to thank the Big Being(s) for all of the wonderfulness of the past year. (Atheists feel free to skip this part.) So, with deepest gratitude I would like to thank President George W. Bush and the ladies and gentlemen of Congress...
I'm kidding!
You all know who I mean.
Anyway, I'd like to thank God and Co. for the following:
My life because, well, it just makes sense to do that
My family - immediate and extended because they are the best
My friends - because they are also the best
Our big, beautiful world and all the cool stuff therein
My country
My home
My job
Dictionary.com
You get the idea. I guess this really would have been more suitable as a Thanksgiving post but, alas, here it is.
I think now would be a good time for a picture.
Now, other than the traditional mercury glass balls, we try to decorate our Christmas/Solstice/holiday tree with things that are meaningful to the celebration of the season and so I bring you...
The Christmas Glasses - Do you see what I see?
Back to the scheduled post...
So, anyway...I was trying to think of the big goings on of the year and the first thing that comes to mind is getting the goat. And, while we also got a beagle this year, I think the goat might come to mind first because the beagle didn't happen to eat a rather important piece of mail yesterday that I happened to drop on the porch whilst trying to wrestle my way into the house with a pizza box, a purse, a camera, a few books, a bag of embroidery floss and the rest of the mail, all the while trying to keep the beagles in the house and the goat out. As a result, I guess I have a bit of explaining to do to the insurance company.
Photo op!
The Christmas Coke Can - Everyone looks forward to a visit from the can dressed in red and white!
So, other than the goat, the other events that jump out are the big things that happened with the kids. Daughter went to Europe; Son got his driver's license; both got to go to Grassroots for the first time; Son got his first root canal - you know, all those great milestones of youth.
And speaking of root canals...
The Holiday Dental Mold - You know, All I Want For Christmas Is My ... Root Canal?
Hmm...what else?
Well, I guess if I want to look beyond my own nose I could comment on things like Katrina, the war in Iraq, the earthquake in Pakistan, the ass in the White House and all of the other tragedies of the year. But rather than dwell on the negative, I would prefer to think about the positive things. Like all of the folks who pitched in to help after the tsunami; Sean Penn in a row boat; or was it Angelina Jolie in a Russian orphanage?; or was it Ethiopia?
See what happens when you don't have cable? Now I'm not sure on anything.
At any rate, the one thing that really sticks out in my mind is when the National Guard helped bring a peaceful end to a standoff between Native American casino owners and the women who performed in the nightly shows as entertainment for the casino clientele. I was so moved by the way this dipute was settled that I chose to depict it, as best I could...
...on my Christmas/Solstice/holiday tree.
Moving right along...
I don't know. I'm trying to think of "very meaningful things" but it just isn't happening. I'm having a hard time thinking of anything. My mind is like...like...like this!
The Cristmas Cheese Grater - O Christmas Cheese, O Christmas Cheese...
You know, events just get scraped over it and these little stringy memories fall through the holes, some going where they should but most ending up on the floor.
I was still doing the mind-as-a-cheese-grater thing there in case that didn't make sense to you.
Well, since it seems my muse has left me, I will just finish up with the Christmas/Solstice/holiday tree tour.
The Peacock, Curler and Big Glowing Gumdrop - And a Peacock in a pear treeeeeeeeeee!
The Christmas Crow - Seven crows a-cawing and all that
And who could that be hiding in the Christmas/Soltice/holiday tree? Why it's...
DEATH!
And last but not least, a vignette depicting everyone's favorite Christmas Carol...
The Wreck Of The Old 97
Thank you all for reading my blog this past year. I wish you all a very healthy and Happy New Year full of peace and love.
I trust you all had a Merry Christmas, Spiritual Solstice, Happy Hanukkah, Joyful Kwanza, Wonderful Boxing Day...did I miss anyone? I'm sure I have. Well, whatever holiday you celebrate, I hope it was a good one.
So, we are in the last hours of 2005.
Anyone care to say anything special?
...
Ok...I guess since it is my blog, I should do the saying.
In order to make my drivel a little more enjoyable, I will intersperse a photo tour of our Christmas/Winter Solstice/holidy tree among my comments.
And away we go!
First, I think it would be good to thank the Big Being(s) for all of the wonderfulness of the past year. (Atheists feel free to skip this part.) So, with deepest gratitude I would like to thank President George W. Bush and the ladies and gentlemen of Congress...
I'm kidding!
You all know who I mean.
Anyway, I'd like to thank God and Co. for the following:
My life because, well, it just makes sense to do that
My family - immediate and extended because they are the best
My friends - because they are also the best
Our big, beautiful world and all the cool stuff therein
My country
My home
My job
Dictionary.com
You get the idea. I guess this really would have been more suitable as a Thanksgiving post but, alas, here it is.
I think now would be a good time for a picture.
Now, other than the traditional mercury glass balls, we try to decorate our Christmas/Solstice/holiday tree with things that are meaningful to the celebration of the season and so I bring you...
The Christmas Glasses - Do you see what I see?
Back to the scheduled post...
So, anyway...I was trying to think of the big goings on of the year and the first thing that comes to mind is getting the goat. And, while we also got a beagle this year, I think the goat might come to mind first because the beagle didn't happen to eat a rather important piece of mail yesterday that I happened to drop on the porch whilst trying to wrestle my way into the house with a pizza box, a purse, a camera, a few books, a bag of embroidery floss and the rest of the mail, all the while trying to keep the beagles in the house and the goat out. As a result, I guess I have a bit of explaining to do to the insurance company.
Photo op!
The Christmas Coke Can - Everyone looks forward to a visit from the can dressed in red and white!
So, other than the goat, the other events that jump out are the big things that happened with the kids. Daughter went to Europe; Son got his driver's license; both got to go to Grassroots for the first time; Son got his first root canal - you know, all those great milestones of youth.
And speaking of root canals...
The Holiday Dental Mold - You know, All I Want For Christmas Is My ... Root Canal?
Hmm...what else?
Well, I guess if I want to look beyond my own nose I could comment on things like Katrina, the war in Iraq, the earthquake in Pakistan, the ass in the White House and all of the other tragedies of the year. But rather than dwell on the negative, I would prefer to think about the positive things. Like all of the folks who pitched in to help after the tsunami; Sean Penn in a row boat; or was it Angelina Jolie in a Russian orphanage?; or was it Ethiopia?
See what happens when you don't have cable? Now I'm not sure on anything.
At any rate, the one thing that really sticks out in my mind is when the National Guard helped bring a peaceful end to a standoff between Native American casino owners and the women who performed in the nightly shows as entertainment for the casino clientele. I was so moved by the way this dipute was settled that I chose to depict it, as best I could...
...on my Christmas/Solstice/holiday tree.
Moving right along...
I don't know. I'm trying to think of "very meaningful things" but it just isn't happening. I'm having a hard time thinking of anything. My mind is like...like...like this!
The Cristmas Cheese Grater - O Christmas Cheese, O Christmas Cheese...
You know, events just get scraped over it and these little stringy memories fall through the holes, some going where they should but most ending up on the floor.
I was still doing the mind-as-a-cheese-grater thing there in case that didn't make sense to you.
Well, since it seems my muse has left me, I will just finish up with the Christmas/Solstice/holiday tree tour.
The Peacock, Curler and Big Glowing Gumdrop - And a Peacock in a pear treeeeeeeeeee!
The Christmas Crow - Seven crows a-cawing and all that
And who could that be hiding in the Christmas/Soltice/holiday tree? Why it's...
DEATH!
And last but not least, a vignette depicting everyone's favorite Christmas Carol...
The Wreck Of The Old 97
Thank you all for reading my blog this past year. I wish you all a very healthy and Happy New Year full of peace and love.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Our New Pet
I wanted to take some time to introduce you all to our new pet. Before you get all excited, it's not who you think. No, not the new beagle. I will give her a proper introduction...eventually. But for now, something completely different.
The odd thing is, I wasn't even aware of this pet. None of us were. My husband discovered it the other night when he went to take care of the coal stoker in the basement.
As I've alluded to before, we have a bit of a damp basement. Damp and cool. Like a mine. It's almost as dark as one too. This special little environment lends itself to habitation by all sorts of strange and wonderful things.
Why, in this picture, you can see we have some little trees growing in our constantly wet french...oops...Freedom Drain.
I have no idea what kind they are but they have been there - that size - for quite a while now. They probably get about 30 minutes of 40 watt lightbulb light a week. Maybe we'll develop some new low-light maple species. Who knows?
And now that I've typed the word "species", I pause to wonder why it doesn't follow the "i before e except after c" rule.
...
But I digress...
So, I'm in the kitchen and I hear my hubby banging on the floor from below.
Me: What? What's that you're banging about down there in the mines?
Hubby: Come here. And bring the camera.
?
Now my curiosity is piqued.
I get the camera and put some sandals on because you just don't want to walk around in our basement in your socks. I tell my daughter that something exciting is going on in the basement and she follows along. We make our way into the basement and locate my hubby.
Me: What's up?
Hubby: Look what I found.
Stak Trek fans are going to love this...
Hubby: A TRIBBLE!
Daughter and I look and, sure enough, there was a tribble on the floor. So I took a picture...
to share with you all.
Isn't it cute? We're thinking of naming it Scooter. Although it doesn't scoot very much. It just kind of sits there. We watched it for a while and it didn't really do much of anything.
Me: It's not doing anything.
Daughter: Maybe it's depressed.
We finally encouraged hubby to use his psionic talents and try the Vulcan Mind Meld on it.
And I took another picture...
As you can see, it was in a great deal of pain.
We immediately packed it up in a box and took it to the Starship Enterprise for further analysis. The scientists gave it a thourough examination.
We had to leave it overnight for testing and counseling. We went to pick it up the next day and the scientists said it was doing much better. As it turns out, it was just a case of the blues and loneliness. We decided to cheer it up by having a little party before we left. Look how much fun!
And, not to worry. Our tribble isn't lonely anymore. We found a little friend for it.
The odd thing is, I wasn't even aware of this pet. None of us were. My husband discovered it the other night when he went to take care of the coal stoker in the basement.
As I've alluded to before, we have a bit of a damp basement. Damp and cool. Like a mine. It's almost as dark as one too. This special little environment lends itself to habitation by all sorts of strange and wonderful things.
Why, in this picture, you can see we have some little trees growing in our constantly wet french...oops...Freedom Drain.
I have no idea what kind they are but they have been there - that size - for quite a while now. They probably get about 30 minutes of 40 watt lightbulb light a week. Maybe we'll develop some new low-light maple species. Who knows?
And now that I've typed the word "species", I pause to wonder why it doesn't follow the "i before e except after c" rule.
...
But I digress...
So, I'm in the kitchen and I hear my hubby banging on the floor from below.
Me: What? What's that you're banging about down there in the mines?
Hubby: Come here. And bring the camera.
?
Now my curiosity is piqued.
I get the camera and put some sandals on because you just don't want to walk around in our basement in your socks. I tell my daughter that something exciting is going on in the basement and she follows along. We make our way into the basement and locate my hubby.
Me: What's up?
Hubby: Look what I found.
Stak Trek fans are going to love this...
Hubby: A TRIBBLE!
Daughter and I look and, sure enough, there was a tribble on the floor. So I took a picture...
to share with you all.
Isn't it cute? We're thinking of naming it Scooter. Although it doesn't scoot very much. It just kind of sits there. We watched it for a while and it didn't really do much of anything.
Me: It's not doing anything.
Daughter: Maybe it's depressed.
We finally encouraged hubby to use his psionic talents and try the Vulcan Mind Meld on it.
And I took another picture...
As you can see, it was in a great deal of pain.
We immediately packed it up in a box and took it to the Starship Enterprise for further analysis. The scientists gave it a thourough examination.
We had to leave it overnight for testing and counseling. We went to pick it up the next day and the scientists said it was doing much better. As it turns out, it was just a case of the blues and loneliness. We decided to cheer it up by having a little party before we left. Look how much fun!
And, not to worry. Our tribble isn't lonely anymore. We found a little friend for it.
Saturday, November 26, 2005
The Things You Can Find...
So. You might be wondering what I've been up to lately.
Or not.
But if you were, I've been off and on helping my husband replace the roof on our pump house. The pump house is this little brick building that houses, oddly enough, our well pump. Imagine. Like most of the other buildings on the property, it is sorely in need of some attention and we have finally gotten 'round to it.
Now, as I've mentioned before, our home rennovation projects seldom turn out to be weekend things. No. They are more like...month long things. Partly because of our wacky schedules which allow us to work uninterrupted on something for only 28 minutes at a time every three weeks. Ok, so I exaggerate at bit, but only a smidge. The other reason is because everything is such a MAJOR project. There is no such thing as a simple thing around here.
So here's the scoop. The pump house needed a new roof. It's a relatively small building, something like 20 x 10 - easy enough, right? Wrong. Because "new roof" doesn't just mean new shingles. It means shingle, tar paper, decking, stringers, trim, mind and soul. New EVERYTHING.
Now throw into the mix the fact that the only pieces of scaffolding owned by the extended family are in another state, involved in another roofing project. Thus leaving my hubby to now have to BUILD scaffolding before he can start on the roof.
You can kind of see where things are headed.
Anyway...
Whilst my dear hubby was building the scaffolding, I was given the unenviable task of "cleaning out the pump house and making some room in there".
!
You have no idea. None, what so ever.
You see, back when we bought this place, oh, about 10 years ago, there was a lot of weird stuff left in the house. The kind of stuff that you know you don't need to have on hand but you really should sit down and take a good look at it before you throw it away. Lots of that kind of stuff. And guess where it went? Go on, you'll never. IN THE PUMP HOUSE!
That's right. And now it was my task to sort through it all and make some sense of it.
Sigh.
Well, for the most part, it was just a lot of sorting into three categories - garbage, scrap metal and what the...? I was in the thick of it the one day, kind of in an akward straddle over several boxes of pipe fittings and hinges, when my son walked in.
Son: Whaterya doing?
Me: Trying to sort through all this crap.
Son: ...
So I went back to my sorting while he puttered about, looking at odd things. Finally, he spoke up again. "What's this?"
He was holding a black box that looked kind of like an old purse. Curiosity got the better of me and I stepped over my boxes to have a better look. He opened the box and I could see something that looked like a chrome hand-held hairdryer. There was an odd assortment of what I guessed were attachements and two golf balls.
Me: I don't know. A golf ball polisher?
That seemed to satisfy both of us and he closed the box and put it on a shelf. I went back to my fittings and hinges. My son eventually got bored and left and I didn't think any more about the black box.
At least until I cleaned my way to the shelf.
Now I was presented with the black box yet again. This item definitely fell into the "what the...?" category. I thought I had better have another look and maybe I can decide what exactly to do with it.
I opened the box again. Again I saw the chrome hair-dryer-ish thing and the attachments and golf balls. But this time I noticed a piece of paper at the bottom of the box, under everything else. Ah...something I didn't notice the first time. Maybe it would answer the question of what exactly this thing was.
I carefully picked out the golf balls and attachements with one hand and then lifted the hairdryer/golf ball polisher out with the other. And there on the bottom of the box was the answer to my question. The operating manual for the item.
WHITE CROSS ELECTRIC VIBRATOR
I blinked once and read it again.
WHITE CROSS ELECTRIC VIBRATOR
I looked at the hairdryer/golf ball polisher/vibrator. I looked at the golf balls and attachements. I looked at the hiardryer/golf ball polisher/vibrator. I looked at the golf balls and attachements. In my hand. All of a sudden a light bulb went on somewhere in my brain and I dropped the golf balls and attachments in horror.
Me: GLACK!!!!!
Me: UUULLLK! GLAAACK!
Me: OH MY GOD! UUUULLK!
Me: ULCK! ULCK! ULCK!!!!
I wiped my hand on my pants. Several times. I think I might have stuck it in an old coffee can of acid too...I'm not sure.
A vibrator??!!!
I set it down and gingerly took the manual out of the box. And immediately lost 45 minutes. Amazing. Absolutely amazing.
As it turns out, this thing is a turn of the century, variable speed vibrator, used for treating a number of ailments, not the least of which is the female disorder "hysteria", or, as I am now wont to say, dingy golf balls.
And what is even more amazing is that it works!
Um...
I mean...
Well, see it's this way...
Um...
Ok, I plugged it in. That's it, I swear! Just to see if it would do anything. And, boy, did it ever! I didn't even turn up the speed. As soon as I plugged it in it was happily buzzing away, vibrating my arm, shoulder, neck, head, back and oh, oh, oh...AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
Um...
No, really, it actually vibrated like a small pneumatic drill. I can't even imagine putting it on my... golf balls. Not even!
So then I unplugged it. And put it back in the box. And put it up on a shelf in our library for... For what? I don't know. I guess to bring out at dinner parties and say "Hey, look what I have! A crazy old vibrator!"
So there you go.
Or not.
But if you were, I've been off and on helping my husband replace the roof on our pump house. The pump house is this little brick building that houses, oddly enough, our well pump. Imagine. Like most of the other buildings on the property, it is sorely in need of some attention and we have finally gotten 'round to it.
Now, as I've mentioned before, our home rennovation projects seldom turn out to be weekend things. No. They are more like...month long things. Partly because of our wacky schedules which allow us to work uninterrupted on something for only 28 minutes at a time every three weeks. Ok, so I exaggerate at bit, but only a smidge. The other reason is because everything is such a MAJOR project. There is no such thing as a simple thing around here.
So here's the scoop. The pump house needed a new roof. It's a relatively small building, something like 20 x 10 - easy enough, right? Wrong. Because "new roof" doesn't just mean new shingles. It means shingle, tar paper, decking, stringers, trim, mind and soul. New EVERYTHING.
Now throw into the mix the fact that the only pieces of scaffolding owned by the extended family are in another state, involved in another roofing project. Thus leaving my hubby to now have to BUILD scaffolding before he can start on the roof.
You can kind of see where things are headed.
Anyway...
Whilst my dear hubby was building the scaffolding, I was given the unenviable task of "cleaning out the pump house and making some room in there".
!
You have no idea. None, what so ever.
You see, back when we bought this place, oh, about 10 years ago, there was a lot of weird stuff left in the house. The kind of stuff that you know you don't need to have on hand but you really should sit down and take a good look at it before you throw it away. Lots of that kind of stuff. And guess where it went? Go on, you'll never. IN THE PUMP HOUSE!
That's right. And now it was my task to sort through it all and make some sense of it.
Sigh.
Well, for the most part, it was just a lot of sorting into three categories - garbage, scrap metal and what the...? I was in the thick of it the one day, kind of in an akward straddle over several boxes of pipe fittings and hinges, when my son walked in.
Son: Whaterya doing?
Me: Trying to sort through all this crap.
Son: ...
So I went back to my sorting while he puttered about, looking at odd things. Finally, he spoke up again. "What's this?"
He was holding a black box that looked kind of like an old purse. Curiosity got the better of me and I stepped over my boxes to have a better look. He opened the box and I could see something that looked like a chrome hand-held hairdryer. There was an odd assortment of what I guessed were attachements and two golf balls.
Me: I don't know. A golf ball polisher?
That seemed to satisfy both of us and he closed the box and put it on a shelf. I went back to my fittings and hinges. My son eventually got bored and left and I didn't think any more about the black box.
At least until I cleaned my way to the shelf.
Now I was presented with the black box yet again. This item definitely fell into the "what the...?" category. I thought I had better have another look and maybe I can decide what exactly to do with it.
I opened the box again. Again I saw the chrome hair-dryer-ish thing and the attachments and golf balls. But this time I noticed a piece of paper at the bottom of the box, under everything else. Ah...something I didn't notice the first time. Maybe it would answer the question of what exactly this thing was.
I carefully picked out the golf balls and attachements with one hand and then lifted the hairdryer/golf ball polisher out with the other. And there on the bottom of the box was the answer to my question. The operating manual for the item.
WHITE CROSS ELECTRIC VIBRATOR
I blinked once and read it again.
WHITE CROSS ELECTRIC VIBRATOR
I looked at the hairdryer/golf ball polisher/vibrator. I looked at the golf balls and attachements. I looked at the hiardryer/golf ball polisher/vibrator. I looked at the golf balls and attachements. In my hand. All of a sudden a light bulb went on somewhere in my brain and I dropped the golf balls and attachments in horror.
Me: GLACK!!!!!
Me: UUULLLK! GLAAACK!
Me: OH MY GOD! UUUULLK!
Me: ULCK! ULCK! ULCK!!!!
I wiped my hand on my pants. Several times. I think I might have stuck it in an old coffee can of acid too...I'm not sure.
A vibrator??!!!
I set it down and gingerly took the manual out of the box. And immediately lost 45 minutes. Amazing. Absolutely amazing.
As it turns out, this thing is a turn of the century, variable speed vibrator, used for treating a number of ailments, not the least of which is the female disorder "hysteria", or, as I am now wont to say, dingy golf balls.
And what is even more amazing is that it works!
Um...
I mean...
Well, see it's this way...
Um...
Ok, I plugged it in. That's it, I swear! Just to see if it would do anything. And, boy, did it ever! I didn't even turn up the speed. As soon as I plugged it in it was happily buzzing away, vibrating my arm, shoulder, neck, head, back and oh, oh, oh...AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
Um...
No, really, it actually vibrated like a small pneumatic drill. I can't even imagine putting it on my... golf balls. Not even!
So then I unplugged it. And put it back in the box. And put it up on a shelf in our library for... For what? I don't know. I guess to bring out at dinner parties and say "Hey, look what I have! A crazy old vibrator!"
So there you go.
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