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 |  Where am I going, and why am I in this handbasket? |
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Fair Warning: I've upped the rating on this blog. It is now set at GC. |
| My mother is back from visiting her sister out in Idaho. She told me about a story from Eagle, Idaho. Apparently, there is a community of folks from California who moved out to Idaho and built beautiful homes in the city of Eagle along the Boise River. Now, the Boise River, like many rivers, floods each spring when the snow melts up in the mountains. Apparently these folks who are new to the state were surprised by this annual event. After watching their investments compromised by flood waters, they decided they must take action. They appealed to the State. The took up a petition to demand that the river be diverted in order to protect their property. I'm not making this up. In order to protect the interests and assets of a small, very short-sighted group of people, the government was being called upon to move a river from its course! Ridiculous. And in Washington, another group of leaders has been called upon to shift events from their natural course in order to protect the interests and assets of a small, very short-sighted group of people. The difference between the two scenarios? Which ever way it plays out, that second group has the potential to take the rest of us down with them. |
| I'm home sick from work . . . AGAIN! I'm feeling better, just wiped out, but well enough that I'm bored. Bored, bored, bored. So . . . what to do to entertain myself? Well, I took a personality test. Want to see the results? "Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing, practical, and always interesting; someone who's constantly in the center of attention, but sufficiently well-balanced not one to let it go to their head. They also see you as kind, considerate, and understanding; someone who'll always cheer them up and help them out." Anyone buying it? No? Yeah, that's what I thought. Oh yeah, I also ordered a bunch of stuff from Ikea for the basement that will eventually get finished IF the contractors ever call us back. I think I'll try to sleep and then maybe I'll come back later and put up some fall decorations in the blog or something. Tony has his job interview up in Scranton at 4:00 EST. I'll let you all know how it goes. Okay . . . nap time.  In late breaking news, Tony had his interview. He was not particularly impressed with the job opportunity as it was presented. Lots of travel . . . 45 hour work week . . . no flexibility . . . no pizzazz. I don't think he'd jump on an offer, but on the other hand, 26 people were laid-off today by his current employer. |
| I got my cell phone bill today. During the 30 day billing cycle, the girl-child managed to send 22,643 text messages. That means she averaged 755 texts per day, or 31 texts per hour. Now, she sleeps an average of 8 hours a night (more on weekends), so I can estimate she had 480 waking hours during the billing cycle. That means she averaged 47 texts per waking hour! Also, she went back to school on September 2nd, and cannot have the cell phone on her person during school hours. So that's another 63 hours when she was unable to text. So, during her awake, non-school hours she is averaging 54 texts per hour or 1.11 texts per minute!  Is it any wonder she doesn't have time to empty the dishwasher? |
| You know you are in for a rough day when you wake up on a damp pillow and can't clearly identify the cause of the moisture. Snot or drool? Thus began my day. I have a nasty cold. Not much to be done about it. I turned off the alarm, called off work, and moved over to the husband's pillow.  My nose is a faucet that drips... drips... drips... hot cheeks red nose and chapped lips... lips... lips... |
| I'm chipping away at my "to do" list, and it's keeping me busy and largely absent from here. The basement is the big project at the moment. Back in the spring we (meaning Tony) ripped out the drop ceiling in the basement to make way for duct work when we had central air installed. Now, we are trying to get someone to come and install a new drop ceiling, and build some shelves down there. Once upon a time ago, we had the basement (which is a semi-finished, walk-out) set up as a TV room / exercise room / computer area. Then somewhere along the line it became a holding area for all sorts of crap. The more crap that accumulated, the less appeal it held as the TV room / exercise room / computer area, and eventually the crap took over. The goal now is to beat back the crap, replace the ceiling, and transform the area back into functional and enjoyable living space. I would like to accomplish this before the end of October so that I can use the lovely new space to NaNo in come November. It is an ambitious time frame especially since, two weeks later, the contractors haven't gotten back to us with estimates. I don't get it. Supposedly the economy is so bad that contractors are really hurting, and I still can't find anyone to do the work in a reasonable time frame. Or even return a phone call. But I digress . . . I went to our brand new neighborhood Walgreens for the first time to buy some Sudafed because all the basement cleaning had my allergies flaring up. Outside of my beloved Zyrtec, Sudafed is my go-to medication for allergies . . . unfortunately, I hate the new PE formula. I'm old school. I like the stuff that requires me to present a driver's license and sign an affidavit swearing I will not use the pills to manufacture meth or whatever. I'm not the only one whose allergies have been flaring up. Both kids are getting hit with seasonal allergies. So I started my son on the Zyrtec, and then, just to get him some more immediate relief, I decided to give him a Sudafed. Tonight, this child, who has always been resistant to medication, came buzzing into the kitchen while I was make delicious lemon poppy seed muffins. "CanItakeanotherpillnow?Ithinkit'stimeforapill!CanIhaveonenow?CanI?CanI?CanI?" he managed to ask before pausing to breath. So maybe Sudafed wasn't a good choice there. I gave him his once daily Zyrtec. he had the pill in his mouth before I could even pour him a glass of water. I think if he asks for more pills I'll start giving him Tic Tacs to swallow. A little placebo never hurt anyone, right? Since it's late, I'm going to just leave this as the disjointed, unedited babble that it is, and head off to bed. G'night. |
| My husband is bracing for another cut in his hours at work. He's starting to have the dreaded sinking ship feeling, so he put out some feelers and found a rather nice prospect. The job is up in Scranton, and though still a long commute, it is a shorter hike. It would be a nice raise too. He made it past the first round nicely, and the local recruiter thinks his experience and training make him exactly what they're looking for. He forwarded Tony's resume along with his endorsement to the folks back at the University of Pittsburgh. We're waiting for round two. Fingers crossed. |
| Living in the beautiful Pocono Mountains, we have a variety of wildlife to confound the city folk who move here. In spite of the species diversity that exists, the New Yorkers moving here like to spice things up with a variety of strange and exotic new sightings – the most popular being cougars, mountain lions, and panthers. Now, we have bobcats and coyotes, and bear, but no mountain lions and certainly not any barracudas! Cue the music . . . Heart performing “Barracuda” circa 1977 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hpkitLUbeEg Every year at this time there are a rash of kitties that go missing. People tend to forget the whole circle of life thing. Fat, lazy kitties are easy pickings, and somewhat lower than coyotes on the food chain. And yet . . . at this time of year when the missing kitties start to add up, someone always sounds the cat-knapping alarm. Since the numbers seem to peak in the fall as we approach Halloween, the Satan Worshipers often take the blame for the missing felines. But the wildlife idea can never be completely ruled out. Allow me to quote from the local paper… “The idea of wildlife taking Sheba is equally unsettling. "I'm scared that it was a coyote or a barracuda or a bear," said G.” Don’t get me wrong. I’m not mocking anyone’s pain. Losing a pet is heartbreaking, and I’m really sorry that so many pet owners go through this every year, but . . . A barracuda? I was laughing over this at work today and one of my co-workers almost got the joke. She said “Barracudas? But they only live in the rain forests.”  So maybe this woman was thinking bobcat and barracuda just slipped out. Or maybe she has encountered the fearsome “Land Barracuda” - beware of candy-grams. Or maybe she didn’t mean barracuda in the literal sense. Come to think of it . . . wasn’t “Barracuda” Sarah Palin’s nickname back when she was playing basketball in High school? Maybe it is more than a coincidence. I know that Governor Palin likes to hunt, but what possible motivation would Sarah Palin have for targeting kitties. What link could there be to the missing cats? Then I remembered this . . . http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:God-kills-kitten.jpg Sarah Palin thinks she is God. |
| When it comes to laughs, the local paper delivers. At least once or twice a week they’ll have a headline or story that is just laugh out loud funny . . . at least to me. And today was a two-fer! First of all there is the story about the local university’s color guard. They decided to learn how to sign the schools Alma Mater. The paper was lauding their efforts at celebrating diversity, but as I suspected, they saw the Syracuse color guard doing it and thought it looked cool. So . . . they took it upon themselves to translate the song. Unfortunately, none of them know sign language and American Sign Language has it’s own syntax and grammar. There are also nuisances of meaning that . . . when strictly interpreted . . . don’t make a lot of sense (kind of like the Bible). Getting to the punch line of the article their translation of the phrase “mystical charms bind thine children to thee," actually meant “(The University) is a witch that casts its spell and binds up its children" which is probably more representative of the process of higher education. They now have a sign language interrupter working with them. Next up . . . Across the river in Jersey they are having problems with bears. In fact, the number of bear complaints has DOUBLED in the past year. According to a report issued by the Fish and Game Council, they’ve had a big jump in the number of Category I, or serious, incidents in the period from July 21 to Aug. 20. The division reported 50 such incidents this year, compared to just 12 last year. I know you all are thinking “Kay? What is a Category I bear incident? And does this have anything to do with wind speeds? The short answer is “no.” Let me give you the break down for you (or in this case quote someone else who has broken it down) “Category I incidents include attempted and actual home entries, agriculture damage, property damage, livestock killed, tent entries, pets killed or injured and beehive raids. Category II incidents include campsite raids, garbage or otherwise nuisance bears and lesser property damage. The Category III numbers involve complaints that involve bird feeders, injured or illegally killed bears or those found dead, urban bears, reported vehicle strikes and someone who just reports seeing a bear.” No shit. Apparently beehive raids are up there with killing livestock and crawling through the kitchen window on the scale of bad-ass bear behavior. Alright, I get that the honeybees are endangered and all, but I don’t think we can honestly expect the bears to “get it.” I just have this image of the Fish and Game folks all locked and loaded . . . “Alright Pooh Bear, get you paw out of that hive and haul your big yellow ass down from that tree. I’m gonna count to three now. This time it won’t be the tranq.” The game officer cracks open the rifle for dramatic emphasis and loads the cartridge. “I put one of these through ya, and you won’t be stuffed with fluffles no more.” OOPS sorry about that! It just slipped out. You notice how if we kill them – even if they are killed illegally – it is only a Category III complaint and it gets lumped in with bird feeders and . . . and . . . sightings? If they kill us though . . . then we’ve got problems. My point of course is that even the Jersey bears are a bunch of assholes. Apparently the bruins in particular have taken to charging at people. Typical. Pushy damn Jersey-ites. You know what’s gonna happen? I’ll tell you. The bears are going to get sick of each other, and next thing you know Louie will round up his boys and they’ll have this conversation. Bear 1: “Youse guys! Get ova here and listen. I’m thinking we might, oughta wanna move to Pennsylvania. We can swim across the Delaware there and find a nice neighborhood to raise our families." Bear 2: “I’m widcha man. I hear they don’t hardly have no sales tax on most tings.” Bear 3: “True, but youse can’t buy beer there without going to a bar or one of them distributors. What the hell’s up with that?” Bear 1: “What? Better to live here with all these f  cking assholes?”Bear 2: “Fuggeddabout that. I say we go for it. If I have to take one more tranq in the ass, I’m gonna f cking maul someone.”Bear 3: “Yeah I’ll remind youse about this conversation next year during bear season.” Bear 1: “What are you? Some kinda wussy bear? You’re a disgrace.” And of course, that whole discussion has to happen in the middle of the aisle at WalMart where they can block the whole freakin' lane while the blond bimbo with them loads them up on Honey Nut Cheerios (The preferred cereal of the Eastern Black Bear). What category of bear incident is blocking the aisle at WalMart? |
| I found this on my desk this morning: Top Comments during the Summer Olympics  Weightlifting commentator: "This is Gregoriava from Bulgaria. I saw her snatch this morning during her warm up and it was amazing." Dressage commentator: "This is really a lovely horse and I speak from personal experience since I once mounted her mother." Paul Hamm, Gymnast: "I owe a lot to my parents, especially my mother and father." Boxing analyst: "Sure there have been injuries, and even some deaths in boxing, but none of them really that serious." Softball announcer: "If history repeats itself, I should think we can expect the same thing again." Basketball analyst: "He dribbles a lot and the opposition doesn't like it. In fact you can see it all over their faces." At the rowing medal ceremony: "Ah, isn't that nice, the wife of the IOC president is hugging the cox of the British crew." Soccer commentator: "Julian Dicks is everywhere. It's like they've got eleven Dicks on the field." Tennis commentator: "One of the reasons Andy is playing so well is that, before the final round, his wife takes out his balls and kisses them . . . Oh my God, what have I just said?"It was a good note to start the day on. Work is crazy busy. My pregnant co-worker had her baby on Monday. Good for her. Healthy baby. Woohoo! Right? Well yeah EXCEPT that we are approaching a Friday deadline! For the hell of it, I joined Facebook today. Now I wish it would shut up and stop telling me that I have 0 Friends. Like I need that. |
| Have you ever watched comedian John Heffron do his bit about the "we gotta go girl." Here's a link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8MQyx__m2Vo The basic idea (for those who can't or don't want to watch) is that when women go out to the bars, they always go in groups, and the group always has a "we gotta go girl" who is the gatekeeper. He compares women to the marines. When they go out to the bars, no one gets left behind. I watch that bit, and it takes me right back to college. Maggie was our usual "we gotta go girl" because she was diabetic and hardly drank. She was also bossy. She kept us all together, and frequently herded us to the ladies room for sobriety checks (she didn't let us get sloppy drunk). We all had an escape word, and if anyone of us used the escape word we all had to leave. If anyone acted like they might hook up with a guy, we all had to leave. If anyone in the bar pissed Maggie off, we all had to leave. Pretty much any scenario you can imagine ended in "we all had to leave." And Maggie was unfailingly tough about enforcing the rules of engagement. I, on the other hand, sucked as the "we gotta go girl." I tended to get annoyed with my drunk friends and abandon them with the assholes who were buying the drinks. "They're big girls," I'd rationalize, "they can take care of themselves." And, next thing they knew, they were waking up to SportsCenter, and wondering what happened to their shoes . . . Yeah, I didn't get to be the "we gotta go girl" very often. Then there was my roommate Barb . . . Barb wasn't a very good "we gotta go girl" either. Not because she'd abandon anyone the way I did, but because Barb was known to get us thrown out of places. Barb: "Come on we've gotta go." Kay: "But everyone's having fun. Can't we stay a little longer?" Barb: "No. They asked us to leave." Kay: "SHIT! Not again!" |
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