Actually, he threw up on my houseguest’s bedding...but maybe that’s worse.
I thought I spelled something pukey last night with my uber-sensitive-woman’s-nose, but a quick search revealed nothing.
When I came downstairs this morning I saw the guest room’s bedclothes piled up in the hall. Please don’t be pee. Please don’t be pee, I pleaded as I searched frantically for the wet spot. (The cats haven’t recreationally peed yet, but cats’ previous behavior is never a reliable predictor of their future behavior.) Nope, it was a nice slime of puke on the fitted sheet. The morning got even better when I went to turn on the washer and nothing happened. Spin dial, select load level, pull. Nothing. I tried the dryer. Nothing too! I flipped the circuit breaker and we were washing with gas.
What a nightmare. The cats have only puked one other time... but they seem to have a knack for selecting terrible locations.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Friday, September 23, 2005
Mincemeat: Never a good idea
Fall! I've missed you so. It actually felt GOOD to wear real shoes and socks today. I can clomp down the stairs, legs flailing about like a puppet, instead of stepping carefully, toes gripping clammy leather.
Husband and I watched prime time CSI last night--it was an event! We had feeling-sorry-for-ourselves-too-all-of-the-above-to-cook pizza while we watched. You know how most mystery series fail because after some point it becomes unbelievable that there would be so many murders in one town? Well, the creators of CSI were brilliant when they set their show in Las Vegas. The week after week of slimy bastards, vengeful wives, and low-class hustlers are totally believable!
Where are all the books recommendations that I couldn’t care less about, you ask? Well, I’ve been reading titles more frequently found under BEACH READS than RECOMMENDED READING, so I’ll get back to you when there is something to write about. But in place of books, I have TRIVIA.
DID YOU KNOW
Mincemeat is one of many dishes that was created to be heavily spiced in order to hide the rotting meat that was a reality of dinner tables in Marco Polo-era England?
Before the Atlantic slave trade, the English didn’t drink coffee or tea? Of course tea and coffee had to be imported as well, but it was sugar that made tea and coffee palatable to the English and led to its popularity, making tea the quintessential English beverage, ironic since tea comes from China or India and sugar came from the West Indies.
SHORT BITS
My hair is no longer a source of woe. I heart Laughing Cow cheese and hate Mt. Olive pickles (I shown have known – olive, pickle, They Are Not The Same). Husband is going to be gone Saturday night and I keep finding myself thinking...only Saturday night? That doesn’t quite seem long enough. I got all geared up for finishing projects and having the cats all to myself that I forgot it's going to be only twenty-four hours or so.
Husband and I watched prime time CSI last night--it was an event! We had feeling-sorry-for-ourselves-too-all-of-the-above-to-cook pizza while we watched. You know how most mystery series fail because after some point it becomes unbelievable that there would be so many murders in one town? Well, the creators of CSI were brilliant when they set their show in Las Vegas. The week after week of slimy bastards, vengeful wives, and low-class hustlers are totally believable!
Where are all the books recommendations that I couldn’t care less about, you ask? Well, I’ve been reading titles more frequently found under BEACH READS than RECOMMENDED READING, so I’ll get back to you when there is something to write about. But in place of books, I have TRIVIA.
DID YOU KNOW
Mincemeat is one of many dishes that was created to be heavily spiced in order to hide the rotting meat that was a reality of dinner tables in Marco Polo-era England?
Before the Atlantic slave trade, the English didn’t drink coffee or tea? Of course tea and coffee had to be imported as well, but it was sugar that made tea and coffee palatable to the English and led to its popularity, making tea the quintessential English beverage, ironic since tea comes from China or India and sugar came from the West Indies.
SHORT BITS
My hair is no longer a source of woe. I heart Laughing Cow cheese and hate Mt. Olive pickles (I shown have known – olive, pickle, They Are Not The Same). Husband is going to be gone Saturday night and I keep finding myself thinking...only Saturday night? That doesn’t quite seem long enough. I got all geared up for finishing projects and having the cats all to myself that I forgot it's going to be only twenty-four hours or so.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Can-do
My first attempt at canning - success! I was inspired by the selection of jams at the craft fair to turn our surplus of peppers into jam (technically jelly). I was a little nervous to try canning because I didn't have any of the proper equipment and I'm kind of cavalier about recipes, but all three jars both sealed and set! (Just ignore the pepper bits all jumbled up at the top.) Now all I need is some cream cheese and crackers.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Purple mascara
I’m ashamed to admit it, but I play favorites with the kittens. Cadbury’s dog-like enthusiasm, affection, and big nose win me over every time. I love Stilton too, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes my attention to him is more... obligatory, more of an “Oh hey Stilton. I like you too!” kind of thing. Do parents have secret favorites with their children, too? I didn’t think so before, but I do now. It’s easy to love two things a lot but hard to love them equally all the time.
I sometimes feel like a kid playing dress up at work. When I’m on the phone with someone who doesn’t know me personally and they’re taking my opinion really seriously and trying to curry favor, I feel like I’ve fooled them.
Speaking of dress-up, I had my makeup done today at an Aveda event, and it’s driving me crazy. I couldn’t even wait until I was out of eyesight of the stylist to wipe off the bright gooey smear of lipstick/gloss. Ugg. And the eye makeup! White eyeliner with purple shadow, both over and under my eyes, and dark purple mascara... do I look like someone who would wear purple mascara? I hardly wear black mascara! I suppose it’s good to be pushed out of one’s makeup comfort zone once in awhile. I did like the tinted moisturizer and powder, and eye shadow (in smaller quantities).
I sometimes feel like a kid playing dress up at work. When I’m on the phone with someone who doesn’t know me personally and they’re taking my opinion really seriously and trying to curry favor, I feel like I’ve fooled them.
Speaking of dress-up, I had my makeup done today at an Aveda event, and it’s driving me crazy. I couldn’t even wait until I was out of eyesight of the stylist to wipe off the bright gooey smear of lipstick/gloss. Ugg. And the eye makeup! White eyeliner with purple shadow, both over and under my eyes, and dark purple mascara... do I look like someone who would wear purple mascara? I hardly wear black mascara! I suppose it’s good to be pushed out of one’s makeup comfort zone once in awhile. I did like the tinted moisturizer and powder, and eye shadow (in smaller quantities).
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Making farm kids cry
TUNNEL LOVE
I love driving through tunnels.
I go through two every day on my commute, and while I'm usually plotting my post-tunnel lane change, every once in a while I remember where I am at and get a little thrill.
I'm not sure why... it's sort of big city savvy Mary Tyler Moore thing. I can navigate insane freeway passages that would make farm kids cry.
REOCCURING DREAMS
I make it a practice not to share my dreams*, because I read somewhere that no one really cares about other people's dreams, and I think that's pretty true. But I do think reoccuring dreams are interesting... those dreams you watch over and over like a bad rerun of Saved by the Bell (I suppose "bad" is redudant). This is all prompted by the recent revisiting of my number one reoccuring dream: encountering raging impassable rapids while canoeing on some remote river.The sense of hopeless despair and impending death usually jars me out of sleep and spares me from having to witness my own demise.
CRAFT FAIRING AND LIKING IT
This weekend I'm going to a small town arts and crafts fair... and I'm excited about it. It's girls' weekend at the H house, when my mom, two aunts, and grandma get together and act like kids again, and I tag along for the fun. After packing as many finds as we can into the van, we're heading up to the cabin. I'm hoping to get a lot of knitting done during the long rides, since scarf weather is nearly here (Hurrah!)
*OK, I did share that one about Kate Spade. But it was an aside.
I love driving through tunnels.
I go through two every day on my commute, and while I'm usually plotting my post-tunnel lane change, every once in a while I remember where I am at and get a little thrill.
I'm not sure why... it's sort of big city savvy Mary Tyler Moore thing. I can navigate insane freeway passages that would make farm kids cry.
REOCCURING DREAMS
I make it a practice not to share my dreams*, because I read somewhere that no one really cares about other people's dreams, and I think that's pretty true. But I do think reoccuring dreams are interesting... those dreams you watch over and over like a bad rerun of Saved by the Bell (I suppose "bad" is redudant). This is all prompted by the recent revisiting of my number one reoccuring dream: encountering raging impassable rapids while canoeing on some remote river.The sense of hopeless despair and impending death usually jars me out of sleep and spares me from having to witness my own demise.
CRAFT FAIRING AND LIKING IT
This weekend I'm going to a small town arts and crafts fair... and I'm excited about it. It's girls' weekend at the H house, when my mom, two aunts, and grandma get together and act like kids again, and I tag along for the fun. After packing as many finds as we can into the van, we're heading up to the cabin. I'm hoping to get a lot of knitting done during the long rides, since scarf weather is nearly here (Hurrah!)
*OK, I did share that one about Kate Spade. But it was an aside.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
“Sorry I’ve been a bitch” cake
I'm back! On Tuesday morning, two weeks after returning from vacation, I finally felt back to my old self. It took a few random acts of kindness, including a “Sorry I’ve been a bitch” French yogurt cake, but it feels great to be back. Good riddance crabby post-vacation self!
When will I stop being mistaken for an 18-year-old? Women-friends, I am pleading for honesty: Is there anything I can do? A new haircut? Different makeup? I know I have a "youthful" face that people tell me I will come to love in ten years, but really. It's hard to think that people take you seriously at work when you are mistaken for an 18-year-old.
Current obsessed with: Ben Gibbard’s song, “You remind me of home.” I haven’t been this desiring of constant repeat play since last winter and the Postal Service’s “The district sleeps alone tonight.” Also: pudding pops -- mmm! I don't know where you went, but I'm glad to have you back.
When will I stop being mistaken for an 18-year-old? Women-friends, I am pleading for honesty: Is there anything I can do? A new haircut? Different makeup? I know I have a "youthful" face that people tell me I will come to love in ten years, but really. It's hard to think that people take you seriously at work when you are mistaken for an 18-year-old.
Current obsessed with: Ben Gibbard’s song, “You remind me of home.” I haven’t been this desiring of constant repeat play since last winter and the Postal Service’s “The district sleeps alone tonight.” Also: pudding pops -- mmm! I don't know where you went, but I'm glad to have you back.
Those damn funeral processions get me every time
I try to give off a tough exterior, but I'm as Husband said once, I'm "surprisingly emotionally available." Translation: I am brought to tears easily. Not in the boo-hoo playground crybaby way, but in the overcome-by-humanity tear-up that I'm usually able to hide. Here’s a list of things that have made my eyes well up/cry in the last week:
- Viewing photos of friend with her brand new baby boy
- Reading about Katrina destruction
- Friend sharing a story that had nothing to do with me but that made her eyes well up
- Watching The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (don’t be fooled by its silly exterior)
I also dependably well up/cry:
At funeral processions
At weddings, graduations, and funerals, even if I didn’t really know them
At cheesy but earnest displays of patriotism
Whenever anyone asks me how I’m doing when they know I’m not doing too well
At music of all kinds, especially odd but poignant Dar Williams songs, such as “The Babysitter’s Here,” and “The Christians and the Pagans.”
I'll stop there, but it's a pretty long list. Those damn funeral processions get me every time.
- Viewing photos of friend with her brand new baby boy
- Reading about Katrina destruction
- Friend sharing a story that had nothing to do with me but that made her eyes well up
- Watching The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (don’t be fooled by its silly exterior)
I also dependably well up/cry:
At funeral processions
At weddings, graduations, and funerals, even if I didn’t really know them
At cheesy but earnest displays of patriotism
Whenever anyone asks me how I’m doing when they know I’m not doing too well
At music of all kinds, especially odd but poignant Dar Williams songs, such as “The Babysitter’s Here,” and “The Christians and the Pagans.”
I'll stop there, but it's a pretty long list. Those damn funeral processions get me every time.
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