I have proven many times before that I am a perpetual child, and that is never truer than on my birthday. I feel like I should eat ice cream all day and then drink tequila all night. (wait, that's not childish... whatever...)
I am getting very little done today, since I stop every few minutes to tell anyone who will listen that ...
Phoebe and I went to the animal clinic after work last night, and everyone marvelled at what a beautiful specimen of feline wonder she is. They all knew her breed, could name the one time (if that) they've seen one before, asked where I got her. (Me? I get my cats from my parents' deck, y'all!) She tried to squirrel her way out of everyone's hands, including mine. The vet decided it was probably a UTI like Muffin, and also gave me some pills to help her relax. (Perhaps the UTI was caused by stress.) So, we come home, i give her the antibiotic and the anxiety pill, and we go to volleyball. When I came home, she was calmer than normal, but not acting odd. I sat on the couch with the cats who now, miraculously, get along, and I watched a movie. Karen came home, and Phoebe switched to acid mode, and walked around the condo stoned all night. We were worried about her, and put her in the bathroom for the evening so she wouldn't stumble out of the loft by mistake in her drunken stupor.
By today, she's better, and we won't give her that med again. We may keep it to take ourselves during a crazy party weekend at the lake. Just kidding mom. :)
An alarm clock that wakes you up with the smell and sizzle of cooking bacon.
No one likes to wake up, especially by an alarm.
This clock gently wakes you up with the mouthwatering aroma of bacon, just like waking up on a Sunday morning to the smell of Mom cooking breakfast.
Unless you're Jewish.
Today was our Biggest Loser Summer Incentive meeting. Everyone weighed in, and people got tickets if they maintained their weight, and additional tickets for losing more. I didn't have the most tickets, but I had enough. I could feel it in my bones: I was winning the big jackpot of $213. (Drum roll insertion, please...)
I didn't win.
I didn't win second place.
I didn't win third place.
The person who won the big pot had the same number of tickets as I did, but this didn't help me monetarily.
I went to Karen's desk to tell her about it, and she asked what I wanted from Wendy's for lunch.
Maybe not winning had something to do with EATING. :)
We spent the weekend lazily, watching movies and hanging out. Saturday we took Muffin to the vet in the morning, and then lounged for an hour or two. We went on an afternoon adventure, where we gabbed and learned the fine art of pickling from Sue and Kelly. We sat on the deck, had a fabulous dinner and played with the puppies a bit. After about six hours, we called it a night, and headed home to our beloved couch. As expected, by Sunday, we were exhausted. We must've watched ten movies this weekend, none of which were really very good, but it passed the time. We also cleaned the entire basement! Yep - the whole thing is now empty. Since Karen's still in the special olympics, I made about thirteen hundred trips up and down those basement steps. Normally, this would've been one of those tasks I drag my feet on, but for some reason, I was quite motivated. (Yey, me!) We finished in less time than I figured we would, and ordered pizza. More movies (Don't bother watching Mr. Woodcock... That scene you laughed at in the previews? It's the only funny one in the movie, and now it's been ruined.)
Another week, another plan. K starts her classes tonight, and the rest of us have the last vball game of the Monday-night season. Wednesday starts playoffs. Tomorrow is my birthday dinner with Mom and Dad, and Friday night is dinner with Karen's fam and Mickey (Happy birthday, Mic).
Muffin's feeling much better. After a quickish trip to the neighborhood vet (where Karen and I each ran into someone we used to work with) Mad Scientist Vet Man assessed that she has a UTI. Medicine and a few days, and she's back to normal. Sadly, it seems that Phoebe has developed the same problem. I'll be taking her to the vet this evening.
Every week, all I want to do is leave early on Fridays. At my old job, I worked until about noon or so every Friday and then was free to hop around in meadows all afternoon long. Here, however, since I am not tied to a pager 24/7, I do not have this luxury. Below is my attempt to fake her out about it:
Woohoo! I get to leave early!
what? youre leaving?
I asked my boss if I could said i had to take my cat to the vet
Proof of how well she knows me: her choice of birthday gifts. And, no, before you point it out, it's not my birthday yet. But Karen knows that I am impatient, and even she couldn't have kept me from the blue bag with tissue paper sticking out. I was eight years old, as I often am, and I opened every single one last night. You'd think that I might've picked up on some of the hints... What's your favorite number? Do you like electronics in brown or orange? Alas, I didn't catch on once, and was completely surprised at all of them. Especially the camera, who is sitting next to me on my desk. He is copper colored, and very handsome. I have to think of a name for him. He has already taken pictures of my desk turtles, my family photos, my computer desktop, Karen at her desk (Smile!) and my plant. (Should I point out that I've been here for maybe twenty minutes?) I am more than a little excited. Expect to see lots more photos here from now on.
I also got a great red and blue necklace, the Wii Cranium game we've had our eyes on for ages, salt and pepper magnets for my desk, a Browns jersey with my name and birthday on it (wow!) and as always, a very heartfelt card. I should get LOTS of work done today ;)
We had dinner at the Texas Roadhouse to celebrate Kay's finishing school (Way to go!!!). Somewhere in the middle of eating, I noticed this on the wall:
I probably should mention that when I was little, my parents had a bit of fun and convinced me that those animals on the drive to Atwood were indeed Cow Pigs. Let's continue...
I haven't ever seen this animal before, and I asked Karen what it was. She kept a very straight face (well done, LOML) and told me that it was a Jackalope. She continued her story about how they fight in the wild, and lock horns, using her hands to demonstrate. I don't know how she kept from laughing, but she brought her mom in on the fun, and before long, everyone at the table was chiming in, that yes, these creatures were real, and that they couldn't believe I hadn't heard of them.
This lasted a good two minutes. Finally, Jess gave me that 'come on, don't be an idiot' look, and shook her head.
Karen and I went to Perry for her fam picnic last weekend and she wasn't aware of the pills that are offered to residents nearby in case of a nuclear accident. So, I have gathered the following information, because I can.
Potassium iodide pills can protect your thyroid from radiation exposure.
According to the Health Department's director of community and public health services, if the thyroid absorbs radioactive material, it can lead to thyroid cancer. The pill provides 24 hours of protection.
Dubbed the 'habitat for the 21st century', the Dome House is an igloo-shaped structure built from snap-together wall sections made of 100% expanded polystyrene foam (styrofoam). It might seem like an odd choice of material for a house, but the company lists a number of advantages that styrofoam has over traditional materials. Unlike wood and metal structures, for example, the styrofoam Dome House does not rust, rot or attract termites. It is also highly resistant to earthquakes and typhoons. In addition, the walls, which are treated with a flame retardant, emit no toxic fumes in a fire.
'I rolled over in my sleep last night, and you asked if I needed any help.'
'Yes. I told you I was just rolling over, but then started to tell you that I had kind of a bad dream.'
'Hmm. I don't remember that.'
'Yeah, before I could tell you what the dream was, you were snoring again.'
'Sounds about right.'
Waiting in line at the grocery store, I see a new Tic Tac product... TicTac Chill, in EXOTIC CHERRY. BIGGER SIZE, SO YOU CAN CHILL OUT AND ENJOY. They're about the size of a tylenol tablet. Genius... let's make tic tacs even bigger... AND, I love the cherry tic tacs that are in the newish combo pack, with passion fruit ones (that I throw away, so I can enjoy only the cherry ones.)
(Insert ominous music here.)
They're sugar free, so they have that sugar-free candy taste.
But, they're cherry, so It's kind of a draw.
But, as I'm typing this, I chewed it. And, it's not so bad.
To quote a review:
'If SweeTarts made a small, nondescript cherry version of its candies (in the shape of an engorged Tic Tac), they’d taste just like the Tic Tac Chill Exotic Cherry. Not bad. Not great. I like the tartness, but there’s not much “cherry” going on here. Surely nothing exotic.'
Update: Best part? There's VIDEO INSTRUCTIONS for using the new package.
Even better part: the video I found when googling the video instructions...
Most nights, I'm woken up by my bladder around 5am. Some nights, I'm woken up by the kitties, around 6am. Last night, I was woken up by a nightmare where I killed someone, and was in danger of being caught around 3:30am. I was pretty scared, since I had murdered someone and all, and didn't want to walk downstairs to use the bathroom, for fear of being found there. (Yep, I was awake at this point, and made a conscious decision not to walk downstairs in my own home, because 'they'd find me.') I say to myself, silently, 'Seriously?' So, I'm awake, and I have a pretty full bladder, but convince myself to just go back to sleep.
(Fast forward in time about thirty minutes.)
Moxy was nibbling on my toes, and my bladder was finally not going to take no for an answer. Muffin apparently threw up downstairs, (poor kitty and her Captain and Tenille stomach) and it was my job to make sure she hadn't thrown up on the couch. So, on goes the light, and I clean up the lovely little present. Go to the bathroom, crawl back into bed, and (of course) am completely awake. 'Seriously?' I count sheep (or my equivalent, going over song lyrics in my head OVER AND OVER) until I bore myself back to sleep. (about forty-five minutes.)
(Fast forward an additional seven minutes.)
Moxy has found the cap that I foolishly put on top of the fridge when we were awake and the cap game was fun. She is a proud, cap-carrying kitty, and is moaning and happy and noisy. 'Seriously?' I get up, grab the cap, put it in the drawer, and try to go back to sleep.
(Fast forward an additional thirty minutes.)
Muffin is throwing up again. 'Seriously?' Fall back asleep, ignoring this completely.
(Fast forward an additional forty minutes.)
Moxy has now found a mousie. She is moaning and crying and the mousie is squeaking and I am about ready to throw myself off the loft. Grab the mouse, put it in the drawer, climb back into bed.
(Fast forward to about 6am.)
All three kitties are crying that they need to be fed. 'Seriously?'
Karen asks if I maybe just want to feed them early. My answer is not a pleasant one, and I will not repeat it here.
(Fast forward to about 6:40am, or when Karen's alarm goes off.)
Muffin is downstairs, doing her best duck impression. I let this continue for about ten minutes, walk downstairs, feed the now very loudly-fighting kitties, and walk back upstairs, climb in bed, and hope with all my might that the next ten minutes feel like five hours.
I'd like to take this time to thank the very patient, very kind Injured One, for putting up with the crankiest person on the planet last night. The person who usually gets up very willingly, and who usually doesn't mind feeding/cleaning up after/placating the kitties. (notice how I'm working here to improve public opinion?)
I take back the time I threatened to stab you in your sleep, and wonder if you made that same threat in your own head overnight.
Every year, Karen's fam has a pig roast/family reunion. This year, I was lucky enough to attend, and was pleasantly surprised at how much fun I had. I was given some vague details, but nothing that would have prepared me for the weekend.
'We toss eggs'
'We roast a pig'
This is pretty much what I had to work on, so I went in a little blind.
It started with the preparation party, where the pig, and two lambs were stuffed and tied. My gut reaction (pun unintended) is typically to revert to my vegetarian ways when I see animals, waiting to be stuffed, but this time it felt a little more like biology class than a PETA website. (This may have been due, in part, to the handful of beers and the more than handful of jello shots (thanks Will and Jess) consumed before the night was over.) There's a whole science behind how these animals are attached to their spikey-spit-turney-things (a technical term I learned from uncle Dale) and lots of raw garlic eating in the background. Inside the house, Croatian kielbasa was cooking on the stove, and the whole house smelled REALLY TASTY. (By the way, for those of you who need to google the word kielbasa to spell it correctly, it comes from the polish word for grilled cutlet and pressed meat.)
Karen and I were in charge of washing the hundred or so potatoes that would be roasted the next day. If you're pondering volunteering for this job at your next picnic, I'd caution you that one hundred potatoes is a lot more potatoes than it originally seems. But, in comparison, it beat having to do the actual stuffing/tying of the animals. So, we stood by between potato washing, and chatted with relatives, many of whom had a long day of 'ice gathering,' which apparently consists of ingesting large quantities of alcohol, and losing one of their cohorts along the way. Soon after, it was time to eat. Lots of food, lots of side dishes (I NEED that potato-crunchy-topping thing recipe) and a nice little thunder storm. The storm kept us from swimming, but allowed us to play some Wii. (I love the Wii. If you don't have one, I highly recommend getting one.) After some Mario Olympics time, we played Cranium's Kaboodle. For any puzzle lovers/drinkers out there, this one's great. AND - if you have jello shots at your disposal, it's even better! There are word games, puzzles, drawing -- IT'S A SHIP!!! -- good times. That lasted till after eleven, and we headed home and to bed.
Sunday morning, and we're talking about what I can expect at the picnic. What follows is the actual discussion that took place:
'You mean, the egg toss isn't done with spoons?'
'Um, seriously? (Insane amounts of laughter) How would we do that?'
'I don't know, in my head it was done with spoons.'
(More laughter,with the added 'sometimes, you're such an idiot/very endearing in your misunderstandings' look)
'Do you mean like the egg race?'
We're almost set to leave, and Karen asks if it's supposed to rain. (Picture the shorts/tee shirt combo we both were sporting...) The internet gods say it's only going up to 70*, that storms are likely, and that it's 60* currently. (Wha?????) So much for shorts, and we change. So we drive to the other side of the world, to a park in the woods. Meet up with everyone, eat lots of pig, (tasty) a little lamb, (kind of gamey) potatoes, (well cleaned) and corn (mmmmmmmmmmmmm, corn). Played a great word game, that's sort of like scrabble and gin mixed. Learned that Karen is freakishly good at word games (note to self: NEVER PLAY SCRABBLE WITH HER.) and actually thought that BYER was a word... Oh, my spelling bee trophies are turning over in their drawers.
Cue the thunderstorm. Torrential rains. Soaking wet kids. Overflowing gutters. Just when it looks like there will be no egg toss, the storm stops, and we all line up. Imagine fifty people, in two lines, taking turns throwing eggs at one another. Good times. I learned that if you're five years old, the egg can hit you in the knee and still not break, but if you're in your thirties and your girlfriend says the egg 'is fine' just before throwing it, chances are it's cracked, and will break all over your hand.
I can't wait till next year, when I bribe everyone to throw their eggs at Karen simultaneously.
Three-year- old Max McGrath of Longridge in Lancashire decided he wanted candy from the supermarket, despite the fact that everyone in his family was asleep and the store was a mile and a half away. So he unlocked the door and walked the entire way! James Brown, who was driving a delivery truck spotted him looking through the store window at 3AM. Max was able to show Brown where he lived, but the truck driver had to call police to wake the family up. Max’s mother Amy McGrath says she now keeps the door key out of his reach.
LeAnn Jeffs, 17 (center), and her 1-year-old daughter were removed from the Yearning for Zion Ranch after it was raided by Texas law-enforcement officers in April. She now lives in a rented home in a San Antonio subdivision with her mother, Sally, 52 (right), and some of her 14 siblings. A friend, Joy Darger, 25, is at left.
On a humid Wednesday in late June, as she waited to be summoned by a grand jury, 16-year-old Teresa Jeffs hitched up her navy blue prairie dress and hoisted herself into the crooked arms of a live oak tree that sits in front of the Schleicher County Courthouse in Eldorado, Tex. For a few minutes, she was not — as has been speculated about many of the young women of the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or F.L.D.S. — a possible child bride, or a sexual-abuse victim, or a member of an out-of-touch, polygamous religious sect. She was just a kid in a tree, perched serenely above the heads of all the lawyers, reporters and sheriff’s deputies — a moon-faced girl with an auburn coxcomb of hair and a mischievous grin.
Everyone's experienced the horror that is returning to work after a vacation. Everyone knows that it's torture to wake up to an alarm (I know, I know.... Mike uses an alarm on vacation too.) and actually showering before the day starts (hell, showering at all) is a huge adjustment. But, it's Thursday and that ain't bad.
So, let the recapping commence:
played many rounds of the name game
drank many rounds of drinks
played marco polo, noodleball and water volleyball (Thanks for lending us your mad league skills, Denise)
Turd Stew (Mom, I'll upload a picture when you send it.)
yanking on Karen's injured ankle in the pool (hey, we were playing a game, and I get competitive!)
kings in the corner
tower jenga-ish game that i can't think of the name of
eight thousand rounds of ping pong
the wonderous 'susan rocks at ping pong' song
the one game where karen won (she's getting MUCH better. ;) )
golf played by the boys
the end of the 'broken promise' legacy (Hoorah!!!)
And, many more things that will be recapped a little later when I unbury myself from the email wall of doom.
When I was nine years old, I promised my mother I'd never wear plaid, because it was just so uncool. When I was sixteen, I promised that I'd never wear flared pants. A few years ago, I promised I'd never wear those bug-eyed sunglasses that Hollywood starlets think don't look like bug eyes. Ask Karen what I said about teal a few months ago.
Today, I am wearing a teal polo shirt.
Never is a promise, Carrie. :) Apparently one I am not able to keep.