You Gotta take the Good with the Bad…

Things about today:

Good:

1.  I’m going to be a huckleberry farmer.  Alright, ‘farmer’ is too strong of a word.  But did you know that you can buy huckleberry bushes online?  I ordered eighteen.  The first two came today.  They will all supplement the lonely, huck singleton already planted out on the land.  Who knows if they’ll ever make berries.  I guess the plants are easy to grow, but getting berries is the challenge.  I got a box from FedEx today.  Out popped two slightly compressed huckleberry plants in one-gallon buckets.  Packed lightly in foam peanuts.  They have blossoms and everything.  At first I didn’t think they were real and that I was the victim of some Nigerian huckleberry online scam artists.  But then a couple of leaves fell off and I noticed a stalk was slightly wilted.  Cool!  But what will I do if the bushes do make huckleberries?  Nineteen huckleberry bushes?  I dunno…make jam? 

2.  I got my car detailed.  I’ve never had a car get detailed before.  I’ve also never had a manicure, but I imagine that the feeling is similar.  What happened was, my “Check Engine” light came on while I was tooling down I-90 at about 85 mph.  I got a tingle of panic.  Is the “Check Engine” light the bad one? I wondered.  Nah, I think the bad one is “Service Engine Soon.”  Or is it?  Ha…”soon” they say…as your engine drops out of your car onto the highway.   It oughta say “Service Engine NOW, mofo!”  Okay so after my train of thought stopped, I made an appointment to get the “Check Engine” light checked.  I might add that the “Cruise” indicator was also blinking.  As it turns out, some air sensor was going bad and it was going to cost about $350.  The standard warranty for a Subaru ends at 60000 miles.  And here I was at 64000.  Doesn’t that just stink, the service guy said.  Ha! 

You underestimated me, service-guy! 

You and your posse of highly-paid labor-guys who were planning to stand around my car, look inside once or twice and then replace a fuse! 

But I bought the extended warranty!  MWAH HA HA HA! Eat that, service-guy! 

He seemed to be annoyed at my dance of triumph, so I stopped.  “Hey,” I said, “since I’m saving all that money, can I get this?”  I pointed at the flyer sitting on the counter.  Gold Detail.  It listed all the things that they cleaned, which was everything, even the engine compartment.  “Sure,” the service guy said.  He was probably thinking “At least we’re getting something outta her…sucker!”  Anyway I picked up my car and it’s so clean I kind of wonder if they brought out the right one.  It even seems to drive better…maybe because it’s happy.  It’s happy because it no longer smells like a combination of toddler fart and month-old Whopper. 

I vow to try harder to keep my car clean.  In order to accomplish this, I plan to tow my children behind the car on a reinforced toboggan.

Bad:

1.  I bought a new lamp for my office.  My new office at my new job is an “inner” office, and I can’t deal with fluorescent lighting.  Yet the dim, flickering bulb over my desk is woefully inadequate, and I may go blind if I don’t get a lamp.  So I found a lamp for 5 dollars.  Score!  Then I went to purchase some light bulbs. 

All the light bulbs have jumped on the Go Green bandwagon.  I was intrigued.  Could *I* be green?  Might *I* contribute somehow, little ol’ me, to saving the earth?  I picked up a package of those curly pretzel bulbs.  “Lasts six years!” the package said.  “Save $141** in energy with these bulbs!” the package said.  I noticed the warning asterisks, and flipped the package around.  The warning reminded me of the contract that Willy Wonka (Wilder not Depp) made all the kids sign, starting out with normal sized writing and getting smaller and smaller and…anyway, the gist was that if you used the bulb for four hours a day for the next six years, your energy savings would be somewhere in the neighborhood of $141**, if lots of other factors came into play and if nothing went wrong***. 

***But it could go wrong. 

I’m no mathematician, but $141/6 years/12 months/30 days ended up saving me about six cents a day***.  I decided it was not worth paying eight bucks for a fancy, green-packaged, tree-hugging, whale saving pack of four light bulbs when I could get four gas-guzzling, forest-fire starting, blood diamond, DDT-drinkin’, starving children bulbs (that were of a higher wattage, mind you) for ninety-four cents.  Sorry earth.  I love my wattage. 

2.  You can’t buy Bran Flakes anymore, apparently.  I am pissed about this.  I love Bran Flakes.  Before you ask, I am not a senior citizen.  But it is what I grew up on.  They used to be called Kellogg’s Bran Flakes.  Over the years, they became Kellogg’s Complete, and you could get them wheat-bran or oat-bran (I love the oat variety).  Is this because people just want their stupid Froot Loops?  It pained me to spell that out.  It is NOT ‘Froot,’ you dumb toucan.  I miss my Bran Flakes!  The metamucil is just not the same.

Side note:  A while back I did a post on Extreme Bust-Up Flaming Nachos.  I want to apologize to all the pervs out there who keep landing on my blog because they were searching for “extreme busts.”  I feel terrible about all the confusion.  I mean, there are dozens of you every week. 

You all must be terribly disappointed.

 

Greenhouse

I bought myself a greenhouse, what with this being the year of living dangerously and all.  Greenhouses are not just for old people.  Or perhaps I am becoming old people.  Either way, I am so excited about this that I may barely be able to contain myself during the 2-4 weeks that it will take to ship!  It’s a good sized 8′6″ x 20′ 9″ greenhouse.  One thing that I really missed living in Colorado was gardening.  I am NOT a gardener by nature.  I do not have houseplants, because I will kill them.  I like to grow food though, that is one thing that I can do okay.  I am hoping that this endeavor will really help me hone my skills in this department.  If not, then I will have a really big building to store snow tires and lawnmowers in.  Ha!

I couldn’t grow anything at 9200 feet in Colorado.  It was too high, too cold, too windy, and the dirt was basically decomposed granite.  I have big plans…BIG PLANS for this summer and I will document their success (or catastrophic failure) here from time to time. 

The greenhouse will mainly be a home for delicate tomatoes and some peppers.  These are hard to grow in the unpredictable weather in Montana.  I plan to try a couple of types of eggplant.  Jesse made me promise to try some cilantro.  And I’ll attempt basil and chives.  The greenhouse will be a great way to start plants early before transplanting them out into the big gardens.  The hardier stuff…potatoes, corn, carrots and onions…those go right into the garden.  It’s been known to freeze at night even in June some years, so this greenhouse will be really SUPER for the more delicate plants.  

 

There’s a Hole In The Bottom of My Sock…

I get more holes in my socks than anyone I know.  This could be due to either:

a) Everyone else throws their socks out when they get thin and ready to hole-ify

b) I walk funny

I can’t be sure which is the cause…of course, maybe its

c) I’m really cheap when it comes to clothes, and the 6 pack for $3.99 isn’t up to snuff

Anyway, I was invited to a mommy group last night.  This was very exciting to me, because it’s a mommy group that consists ONLY of working mothers…and coming from the land of stay-at-home snooty mothers who think you’re tragic for having to actually WORK during the day instead of taking your children to the park, and meeting for coffee klatch, and heading for the spa…well this concept was new and exciting.  But I think I blew it.

See, the mommy group was held at one of the mother’s houses, and they had just refinished the basement, and with the new carpet and whatnot we all had to take our shoes off.  For other women this is generally not a problem.  Most women seem to be able to remove their shoes and out pops a clean, trendy looking sock.  And if they were to continue removing that sock, you would probably see a precious set of toes replete with fresh polish.  Forget about calluses. 

Oh heavens. 

Out from my six year old Dansko clog came two mismatched black socks (both black, but with different patterns).  My big toe in all of it’s hangnailed, callused glory was popping out of one sock, and my scruffy, grey, I’ve-had-to-stand-too-much-in-my-short-life heel was bursting out the other.  This was totally obvious to the other moms.  I could tell, because they were all staring at my feet.  When they saw that I saw they were staring at my feet, they quickly looked away and starting chit-chatting with each other.  “Is that little Dylan?  Is he sleeping through the sock?  I mean, the night?”

Oh, why couldn’t I have foreseen this?  I’m a working mom, after all…can’t I AFFORD socks without HOLES?  Maybe scrub my heels once in a while? 

Years ago when I was commuting into Washington D.C., I had just parked the car in the lot after an hour and a half drive.  It was in the elevator that I noticed I had one brown shoe on, and one black shoe.  I had to drive ALL THE WAY HOME because I couldn’t be the crazy chick who wears different shoes.  Or so I thought. 

I must be retarded, at least in the fashion department, because it was last spring when…

One morning I got dressed for work, took the trash all the way down to the end of our very long driveway, walked all the way back to my car, got in my car and drove 25 miles to work.  There I parked in the parking garage, walked down three flights of stairs, crossed the street, went up the elevator…and then I realized my feet felt a little “off.” 

I looked down and both my shoes were black, but one had a heel.  An effing heel. 

We’re not talking about slut-heels or anything, but a height-making, chunky sort of heel that I definitely should have NOTICED while I was doing ALL THAT WALKING.  I had to bravely walk all the way back to my car, drive to Target, walk into the store (limping by now…but no shoes, no service!) and purchase a new pair of shoes.  What is wrong with me?  I guess if I can’t be bothered to check for two matching shoes, then I should stop worrying about the socks. 

Anyway, when I finally did manage to get a couple of the ladies to talk to me, I did my best to act normal and confident.  Because I am normal and confident.  Okay, perhaps just confident.  I think I will be invited back.  Maybe.

Thankfully it’s almost sandal season.

 

Maleesha’s foot…the next day

 

The Charlie Brown Gingerbread House

So one of the birthday gifts that my three year old picked out for me was a pre-assembled, ready to decorate gingerbread house.  We love to make crafts, so he was very excited to “make the house present for you” together.  I’ve never made gingerbread, I’m not really even sure what gingerbread is, but it sounded like a good time.  I checked the box, and most of the contents come from Canada instead of China, so we proceeded.

We opened the box and laid the contents of the gingerbread house.  It felt a little like what it must feel to heat up one of those pre-cooked turkeys and serve it at Thanksgiving, since it was already baked and put together, but whatever.

The icing was tricky.  The amount of water it recommended wasn’t enough to absorb all the powdered icing mix, so it said to slowly add water until it had “the consistency of toothpaste.”  How specific.  I did my best, but I think the icing came out too thin, because the little candy pieces kept sliding off. 

The finished product, after AJ and I decorated it:

Just like the picture on the box, no?

 

Cloffice, part 1

What happens when you run out of room in your house…but you desperately need a space for your computer?

Why, the Cloffice happens, of course! 

Closet + Office = Cloffice.

Yesterday we had an electrician come out to the house and wire a new outlet in the walk-in closet off our bedroom.  When I say walk-in closet, I mean the kind that is a large closet.  It’s by no means enormous.  However, on one end there is a nook and we found a desk at Office Depot that fits into the nook with 1/8th inch to spare.  No really, 1/8 inch.  If too much dust settles between the desk and the wall, the desk will never come out.

One problem we will have with the Cloffice is that it is not getting a good wireless signal, hence my internet is very spotty in the Cloffice.  We are working on remedying this situation.  I have high hopes for the Cloffice.  Barbara Kingsolver wrote her first novel in a closet, so I also have big expectations for the Cloffice. 

 

Separated at Birth?

Oreo Cookie Beard man, and the Colorado Rockies Todd Helton. 

You be the judge.

 

Guilty Pleasure Alert

I know I will regret admitting this, but I am hooked on a summer show called Age of Love.  I guess it’s not that hard to believe…I watched every episode of Joe Millionaire, too.  I think I like to live vicariously through people who choose to act like retards on national TV, or something.  Anyway…

The show is centered around Mark Philasomethinorother, a 30 year old Australian tennis star.  He’s edited to be a very good catch.  Enter Team 40’s.  Six forty-somethings (the oldest chick is 4 compete to win the Aussie’s heart right there on NBC!  This is entertaining in itself, mostly the expression on Mark’s face as he learns he signed up to date older women.  (You’d never know it from the way these women look, though)  Things get really interesting in the second episode, when they bring out Team 20’s…you got it, a bunch of recent college grads who look hot, but compared to the 40 somethings raking in $250K a year…well, they seem like babies. 

Of course much editing is done to make the 20 somethings look like bumbling idiots.  The 40 year olds come across as smart, smooth operators.  But I have to say, the 40 year olds are really running over the 20’s during all the competitions.  The camera often cuts away to one of the women, who have an opportunity to make commentary on how they think they are faring against the other chicks.  There are lots of snipes about how the 40 year olds are “decrepit” and “barren”.  The 40 year olds are at least smart enough to acknowledge their competition, but also confident enough not to freak out.  All of the 40 somethings have shrugged at least once to say, “It’s just a man.  We’ll see what happens.” (I am so rooting for the older team!)  But as the show goes on, the competition heats up, and pretty soon all the women, regardless of age, are acting like ‘tards, all googly eyed and drooling over the dude.

And I guess this is what makes the show entertaining for me…the imaginary competition that these women have fabricated.  It’s a big social study on sorry, sorry behavior.  The women inevitably resort to backstabbing and weeping into the camera.  And for what?  To eventually run each other down over an (albeit very hunky) ape who will choose one of them, date her for the mandated 30 days after the show ends, and then break up with her after they discover “it’s just not going to work out?”  Why the competition? 

It’s something that has always driven me crazy about my own gender.  It’s pretty well known that women don’t dress up for men.  They dress up for other women.  They constantly compare themselves.  And for what gain?  To feel bad about themselves?  To ensure that they weigh a half a pound less than their friends?  To boost the microscopic level of self esteem that has been eroded from reading too many issues of Cosmo?  I know, I know, these shows are edited for maximum ‘tard display, but some of these ladies’ comments make me want to bust through the TV and shake them and quote that song: 

“The race is long, but in the end, it’s only with yourself.” 

So ladies, I urge you to join me in watching Age of Love.  Men, if you are secure enough, with your chest hair and your ability to sing the Star Spangled Banner with your armpit, then feel free to participate too.  Join the social experiment to see that all women, not just the young ones, who go on dating shows are pathetic and most likely hunting for an acting career. 

Yes.  It’s a total waste of time.  But great for insomnia and cheap entertainment.

 

Things About my Weekend

Good

I returned safely from Alabama.  It’s always good to return safely from anywhere.

I was treated to a Mother’s Day picnic, complete with fluffy-cloud bluesky and perfect picnic spot, lake and all.

I got a really nice Mom’s day gift, a leather bound photo book with pictures of AJ.

I got an hour long bath (extra hot) where I got through a couple of chapters of the book I am currently reading.  I am happy about this book…haven’t had a book suck me in like this for a while (Special Topics in Calamity Physics).  Let’s just say the adjective “Gerarddepardieuian” really captured me.  the book is full of that kind of cleverness.

I watched a movie (see Bad), which is a rare occurence anymore.

Bad

Stranded in Houston overnight on my way home from Alabama due to thunderstorms.  I’ve only been to Houston twice…both times it was overnight in the airport.  This is the third trip in a row where there were major disruptions.  Are all flights like this now?  Because I am starting to think that car travel might be faster these days.  Sheesh.

I watched a movie (uber-disturbing), Children of Men.  I haven’t had a movie screw me up like that in a while.  It’s a fantastic movie, but it was stroke-inducing intense.   

I had to miss 90% of IGN II (International Game Night).  I was just drained from the weekend of travel and flying and all that. 

 Overall weekend?  Definitely an A+ (on a weighted scale)

 

Some of my favorite things…

…the list definitely includes Garrison Keillor and A Prairie Home Companion.  I have been a listener of Lake Wobegon stories for years, and I was thrilled to finally see the movie.  I really liked its parallels to the way the radio show has always been done.

I also love, love, love The Complete Peanuts collections that Fantagraphics is publishing.  I just don’t know how I will make it in the coming years, waiting months and months for each new set to be published.

Today’s third favorite thing is the Reveal light bulb by General Electric.  I didn’t know that it was possible for a light bulb to bring so much joy.  According to the website, this is due to the Reveal’s “unique neodymium glass” that filters out “dull yellow rays.”  Now I am not sure what neodymium is, or where I could get it, but in the future I plan to fashion a bubble from it and live inside it, protecting myself from dull yellow rays, ultraviolet radiation, alien mind reading waves, and the fumes from cattle trucks. 

 

Invent a Holiday

I have this group of friends and sometimes we make up holidays, you know, as an excuse to throw a party.  We have Empire Day (Sept. 19, in commemoration of our formation of a group that does nothing regularly, just has sporadic moments of fun…everyone should have a group like this…really), Anti-Mushroom Day (no one can eat mushrooms on February 2), International Game Night (Also known as La Noche Internacional del Juego Cinco de Mayo), which we celebrated all of our different ancestries over games and tequila.  The last planned celebration was Hawaiian Holiday Game Night (There was another ‘H’ in there but I can’t remember what is was) that got canceled. 

I was just looking at some old photos from these get togethers.  People really should make up their own holidays.  It’s a lot of fun, and you don’t have to wait for the real ones to roll around.  Plus, you can celebrate anything you want.  Another plus is, the stores don’t market toward holidays that do not exist, so you never have to get annoyed when you go shopping.  Holidays that you don’t want to boycott.  What a grand idea!