We've only had a few flurries in our area so far this season, but I eagerly await our first real snowfall! I just love the snow!!
Friday, November 28, 2008
Friday photo challenge - weather
We've only had a few flurries in our area so far this season, but I eagerly await our first real snowfall! I just love the snow!!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
R.S.V.P.
R.S.V.P.
We see this frequently at the bottom of invitations.
But how many of you really know what it means?
I thought it was something we all learned the meaning of when we were children, but in the past year or so, I've come to the conclusion that people really are not ever taught it's meaning, or else they just don't give a damn, and prefer to ignore the request in favor of being rude.
R.S.V.P. is an abbreviation for the French phrase "repondez s'il vous plait". Translation into English: Please Reply
Please reply. Is that asking too much? I mean if I, as the sender of the invite, could take the time out of my busy schedule to print off an invitation, address and mail it, then is it really asking too much for you, as the recipient, to take a single frigging moment out of YOUR schedule and tell me whether or not you'll be attending?
Why do people not understand the meaning of RSVP? Or is it not that they don't know it's meaning, but just that they are too busy? Or are they afraid of hurting my feelings by telling me they won't attend? Puh-leeze!! I understand busy schedules or just lack of interest. All I'd like is an answer one way or the other.
And I understand, there will be times that it just slips the recipients mind and they forget. But by and large, I think most of those that are non-replying are simply in the habit of not doing so. They are just lacking those manners, or social grace if you will.
Please, don't think that this is a custom limited to a particular social-class. It's a wide-spread problem.
I admit, I've been guilty of it myself, although I will say it is because I had misplaced the invitation and then simply forgot about the event 'til the inviter called me.
So tell me, do you R.S.V.P. when asked? Or do you blow it off and do whatever the heck you want?
We see this frequently at the bottom of invitations.
But how many of you really know what it means?
I thought it was something we all learned the meaning of when we were children, but in the past year or so, I've come to the conclusion that people really are not ever taught it's meaning, or else they just don't give a damn, and prefer to ignore the request in favor of being rude.
R.S.V.P. is an abbreviation for the French phrase "repondez s'il vous plait". Translation into English: Please Reply
Please reply. Is that asking too much? I mean if I, as the sender of the invite, could take the time out of my busy schedule to print off an invitation, address and mail it, then is it really asking too much for you, as the recipient, to take a single frigging moment out of YOUR schedule and tell me whether or not you'll be attending?
Why do people not understand the meaning of RSVP? Or is it not that they don't know it's meaning, but just that they are too busy? Or are they afraid of hurting my feelings by telling me they won't attend? Puh-leeze!! I understand busy schedules or just lack of interest. All I'd like is an answer one way or the other.
And I understand, there will be times that it just slips the recipients mind and they forget. But by and large, I think most of those that are non-replying are simply in the habit of not doing so. They are just lacking those manners, or social grace if you will.
Please, don't think that this is a custom limited to a particular social-class. It's a wide-spread problem.
I admit, I've been guilty of it myself, although I will say it is because I had misplaced the invitation and then simply forgot about the event 'til the inviter called me.
So tell me, do you R.S.V.P. when asked? Or do you blow it off and do whatever the heck you want?
Straight talk... I'm convinced!
This blog is going into an area that some might find offensive, distasteful, or, well, I just don't know what people are going to think of it. Frankly, I don't care. But I'm going to put my 2-cents worth in on the whole homosexual-thing. I'm going to ramble on for a bit, so bear with me...
I couldn't tell you at what point in my life, that is, what age I was, when I became aware there was such a thing as homosexual vs. straight. Probably in my early teens if I had to guess. That being back in the early 80's.
Back then, it wasn't as out in the open or accepted (tolerated?) as it is today. And certainly not among teenagers. Back then, I dare say if you admitted such a thing, you'd probably have been bullied, if not beaten to a pulp on a daily basis, especially in the small town I grew up in. I went to school with several (and by several, I can think of 5 off the top of my head out of 500 students) that I now know are gay. But back then, few if any of us knew for sure. Some we could only speculate.
One young man I had known since we were 7 years old. Looking back, if I had known what a homosexual was at that age, I'd have known right then and there. He was always "different". Please, please, don't start fussing at me for using the word different. It's for lack of a better word on my part. As soon as graduation was over, I pretty much lost contact with everyone I went to school with. We all went our separate ways. When I headed up our 20th reunion a couple of years ago and started trying to find people, he was one I had a hard time finding. After talking to some who had stayed in touch with him, they confirmed he'd "come out of the closet", changed his name and moved away. None of that surprised me, because when I looked back at the young man I'd known since we were small children, I said to myself: well of course he's gay, I think I always knew that, it just wasn't ever discussed. That's just who he was(is).
One of my nearest and dearest friends through out jr. & sr. high, who I'd also known since we were 7, I lost contact with her after graduation as well. We saw each other again at our 5 year reunion, we were both married, she had a family. After the reunion, we again lost touch. About 12 years later, through the world of the Internet, chat rooms and reunion websites, we caught up with one another again. Now she was divorced. After trading several emails and chatting on-line, she finally asked me if she could tell me something without me getting upset. I said sure. She revealed to me that she had been in a relationship with a woman for the past "X" years. I said, "okay." She asked if I was shocked or had any problems with that.
I thought about it a moment, and realized I wasn't shocked. While I had never known of her preference before that moment, perhaps on a subconscious level I had known and just never realized it. I told her I wasn't shocked and had no problems with it, just as long as she promised never to hit on me. She laughed and agreed. We've stayed in touch ever since.
A couple of the other people I found out about while working on the reunion, and again, I wasn't surprised. When I looked back at what I knew about them, even though I wasn't close to these people, I realized I already knew if only subconsciously, but again, it just wasn't talked about.
So here we are firmly into the 21st century. Times have changed, homosexuality is no longer the big hush-hush secret that it used to be. For some people it still is, but by and large the closet doors are being thrown wide open, assuming they were shut to begin with.
I have or have had gay friends, relatives, neighbors, and co-workers. It's not a "condition" that's going to go away. It's something that has always been in existence, and always will be. For all those that are so full of hatred and disdain for others that are "different" than what they think a "normal" person should be, that argue that it goes against nature and is a sin, that it's a choice and not something you are born with, I say, "you need to wake up and get a clue!" I'm sure for a certain percentage, it is a choice, whether because they feel it's the "trendy" thing to do or because of some abuse they've suffered at the hands of someone of the opposite sex that has crushed any sense of trust. But by and large, I definitely feel it's something you're born with.
Looking back at the young man I'd known since childhood, and realizing that I knew he was gay even as a child, do you think a 7 year old would have made that choice? I hardly think so. He is a prime example of having been that way from birth.
Another example, a friend I've known for a really long time, when her child was about three years old I made the comment to another friend, "that child is gay. Mark my words, when he grows up, see if I'm not right." Well, that child is grown now and sure enough, he's half-way out of the closet. Doesn't deny being gay, but doesn't flaunt it so to speak. So again, do you think a three year old child could have or would have been able to make such a choice? No way! It's something you're born with. I'm convinced!!
I say to each their own. What people choose to do in their bedrooms or who they choose to do it with is nobody else's business, as long as nobody is being hurt. Who they choose to share their life with is their choice, as long as they are happy and again, nobody is being hurt, then that is their choice. Why do so many people feel they have to try and inflict their opinions and "normal" way of life over others and why are they forever trying to change people to fit their ideal way of life? By shunning those you view as being different, wierd, abnormal, etc. etc., you just might be missing out on a wonderful friend that could add great value to your life.
Can't we just accept one another for who we are?
I couldn't tell you at what point in my life, that is, what age I was, when I became aware there was such a thing as homosexual vs. straight. Probably in my early teens if I had to guess. That being back in the early 80's.
Back then, it wasn't as out in the open or accepted (tolerated?) as it is today. And certainly not among teenagers. Back then, I dare say if you admitted such a thing, you'd probably have been bullied, if not beaten to a pulp on a daily basis, especially in the small town I grew up in. I went to school with several (and by several, I can think of 5 off the top of my head out of 500 students) that I now know are gay. But back then, few if any of us knew for sure. Some we could only speculate.
One young man I had known since we were 7 years old. Looking back, if I had known what a homosexual was at that age, I'd have known right then and there. He was always "different". Please, please, don't start fussing at me for using the word different. It's for lack of a better word on my part. As soon as graduation was over, I pretty much lost contact with everyone I went to school with. We all went our separate ways. When I headed up our 20th reunion a couple of years ago and started trying to find people, he was one I had a hard time finding. After talking to some who had stayed in touch with him, they confirmed he'd "come out of the closet", changed his name and moved away. None of that surprised me, because when I looked back at the young man I'd known since we were small children, I said to myself: well of course he's gay, I think I always knew that, it just wasn't ever discussed. That's just who he was(is).
One of my nearest and dearest friends through out jr. & sr. high, who I'd also known since we were 7, I lost contact with her after graduation as well. We saw each other again at our 5 year reunion, we were both married, she had a family. After the reunion, we again lost touch. About 12 years later, through the world of the Internet, chat rooms and reunion websites, we caught up with one another again. Now she was divorced. After trading several emails and chatting on-line, she finally asked me if she could tell me something without me getting upset. I said sure. She revealed to me that she had been in a relationship with a woman for the past "X" years. I said, "okay." She asked if I was shocked or had any problems with that.
I thought about it a moment, and realized I wasn't shocked. While I had never known of her preference before that moment, perhaps on a subconscious level I had known and just never realized it. I told her I wasn't shocked and had no problems with it, just as long as she promised never to hit on me. She laughed and agreed. We've stayed in touch ever since.
A couple of the other people I found out about while working on the reunion, and again, I wasn't surprised. When I looked back at what I knew about them, even though I wasn't close to these people, I realized I already knew if only subconsciously, but again, it just wasn't talked about.
So here we are firmly into the 21st century. Times have changed, homosexuality is no longer the big hush-hush secret that it used to be. For some people it still is, but by and large the closet doors are being thrown wide open, assuming they were shut to begin with.
I have or have had gay friends, relatives, neighbors, and co-workers. It's not a "condition" that's going to go away. It's something that has always been in existence, and always will be. For all those that are so full of hatred and disdain for others that are "different" than what they think a "normal" person should be, that argue that it goes against nature and is a sin, that it's a choice and not something you are born with, I say, "you need to wake up and get a clue!" I'm sure for a certain percentage, it is a choice, whether because they feel it's the "trendy" thing to do or because of some abuse they've suffered at the hands of someone of the opposite sex that has crushed any sense of trust. But by and large, I definitely feel it's something you're born with.
Looking back at the young man I'd known since childhood, and realizing that I knew he was gay even as a child, do you think a 7 year old would have made that choice? I hardly think so. He is a prime example of having been that way from birth.
Another example, a friend I've known for a really long time, when her child was about three years old I made the comment to another friend, "that child is gay. Mark my words, when he grows up, see if I'm not right." Well, that child is grown now and sure enough, he's half-way out of the closet. Doesn't deny being gay, but doesn't flaunt it so to speak. So again, do you think a three year old child could have or would have been able to make such a choice? No way! It's something you're born with. I'm convinced!!
I say to each their own. What people choose to do in their bedrooms or who they choose to do it with is nobody else's business, as long as nobody is being hurt. Who they choose to share their life with is their choice, as long as they are happy and again, nobody is being hurt, then that is their choice. Why do so many people feel they have to try and inflict their opinions and "normal" way of life over others and why are they forever trying to change people to fit their ideal way of life? By shunning those you view as being different, wierd, abnormal, etc. etc., you just might be missing out on a wonderful friend that could add great value to your life.
Can't we just accept one another for who we are?
Monday, November 24, 2008
Why I'll never drink coffee at work again
I was alone here at the office a short while ago. Everybody else was either off today or out running errands.
The buzzer sounded, letting me know someone had come in downstairs. I got up to go greet whoever(whom?) had come in. As I got near the bottom of the staircase I called out, "Hello?", but got no reply. Of course there's always the possibility that the visitor is hard of hearing, so I walked around looking for someone. Just as I thinking that possibly the wind had pushed the door open (it happens from time to time), I noticed something lying in the floor by the Coke machine.
I stepped closer to take a look.
It was one of those little electronic gizmos that delivery people carry to enter their orders on. Odd, why was that lying there?
Then I saw the light coming from the direction of the bathroom. I looked towards the bathroom and noticed the door was standing open about 1/3 of the way, and I then heard the distinct sound of someone urinating.
OMG!! There was somebody using the toilet... a PUBLIC toilet!, and they didn't shut the door!!!!!!!! What kind of freaking society are we living in people?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!!?
I just stood there, my jaw slack, speechless.
Seriously, a part of me wanted (not out of curiosity by any means) to go and push the door the rest of the way open and confront the person. But I was seriously afraid of what I'd see, so instead I turned and started back upstairs. As I started up, I heard the toilet flush and the door creak on it's hinges as it was opened up, and not once did I hear the water running in the sink or the soap dispenser being used, or paper towels being dispensed. OMG! It was getting worse by the second!!!!!
I'd just reached the top of the stairs when I heard the John Conti Coffee man call out, "Hello?"
**groan** Now I'd be forced to deal with this person. I wondered what I'd say to this man.
I mean seriously, what do you say to someone that has just committed these uncouth acts? There are sooo many things that need to be said, that's the problem... where do you start?
The delivery man had the audacity to ask me, "How are you today?"
It was on the tip of my tongue to say, "I was fine 'til I had to listen and practically watch you take a pi$$", but I was still literally speechless, and all I could do was just nod at him.
He informed me he was going out to his truck to get us 2 more cases of coffee and he'd be right back so I could sign for them.
At this I gulped. Sign for them? Oh dear, that means I'd have to handle his equipment, er, I mean his electronic gizmo that he'd handled after touching his own "personal" equipment. Blech! I was feeling ill at the very thought.
I made my way blindly back to my desk and sat down. Okay, that's it! I simply refuse to touch that thing knowing what I did. And dang it, I was going to tell him why I was refusing. Let the man get embarrassed. He should be! He should be ASHAMED of himself!!
I sat there waiting, cringing... I heard the door buzzer go off again and knew the moment was fast approaching.
You can not begin to know the enormous relief I experienced when I heard my boss coming up the stairs hollering out, "it's me! The John Conti guy is downstairs."
The boss had taken the day off, and had been out on personal business and was headed back into his apartment. I stopped him before he could open his door and said, "you've got to sign for it. I can't. I won't. You can't make me."
"Why?"
I told him why and he just stood there, weighing his options and then just hung his head and shook it. I heard him let out a sigh and say, "okay".
After he had signed for it, he came into my office holding our copy of the invoice held, pinched between his fingers, held way out away from him. I was reaching for the disinfectant spray even before he could finish asking for it. He held the papers out so I could spray them front and back.
Even though I didn't physically touch the papers, I still felt the need to clean my hands in sanitizer. I told the boss to go wash his hands asap as well.
Okay, so I'm telling any and all of you that live/work in the LaGrange area, don't drink coffee from any establishment that serves John Conti, because the delivery guy doesn't wash.
Honestly people, I know this happens everywhere, everyday, by all kinds of people. Although in this day and age you'd think people would know better. However, I prefer to go through life hoping that the person(s) before me have washed. But when someone flaunts it at me like that, I just can't help but be revolted.
And the open-door restroom policy... what is that all about??????????????
The buzzer sounded, letting me know someone had come in downstairs. I got up to go greet whoever(whom?) had come in. As I got near the bottom of the staircase I called out, "Hello?", but got no reply. Of course there's always the possibility that the visitor is hard of hearing, so I walked around looking for someone. Just as I thinking that possibly the wind had pushed the door open (it happens from time to time), I noticed something lying in the floor by the Coke machine.
I stepped closer to take a look.
It was one of those little electronic gizmos that delivery people carry to enter their orders on. Odd, why was that lying there?
Then I saw the light coming from the direction of the bathroom. I looked towards the bathroom and noticed the door was standing open about 1/3 of the way, and I then heard the distinct sound of someone urinating.
OMG!! There was somebody using the toilet... a PUBLIC toilet!, and they didn't shut the door!!!!!!!! What kind of freaking society are we living in people?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!!?
I just stood there, my jaw slack, speechless.
Seriously, a part of me wanted (not out of curiosity by any means) to go and push the door the rest of the way open and confront the person. But I was seriously afraid of what I'd see, so instead I turned and started back upstairs. As I started up, I heard the toilet flush and the door creak on it's hinges as it was opened up, and not once did I hear the water running in the sink or the soap dispenser being used, or paper towels being dispensed. OMG! It was getting worse by the second!!!!!
I'd just reached the top of the stairs when I heard the John Conti Coffee man call out, "Hello?"
**groan** Now I'd be forced to deal with this person. I wondered what I'd say to this man.
I mean seriously, what do you say to someone that has just committed these uncouth acts? There are sooo many things that need to be said, that's the problem... where do you start?
The delivery man had the audacity to ask me, "How are you today?"
It was on the tip of my tongue to say, "I was fine 'til I had to listen and practically watch you take a pi$$", but I was still literally speechless, and all I could do was just nod at him.
He informed me he was going out to his truck to get us 2 more cases of coffee and he'd be right back so I could sign for them.
At this I gulped. Sign for them? Oh dear, that means I'd have to handle his equipment, er, I mean his electronic gizmo that he'd handled after touching his own "personal" equipment. Blech! I was feeling ill at the very thought.
I made my way blindly back to my desk and sat down. Okay, that's it! I simply refuse to touch that thing knowing what I did. And dang it, I was going to tell him why I was refusing. Let the man get embarrassed. He should be! He should be ASHAMED of himself!!
I sat there waiting, cringing... I heard the door buzzer go off again and knew the moment was fast approaching.
You can not begin to know the enormous relief I experienced when I heard my boss coming up the stairs hollering out, "it's me! The John Conti guy is downstairs."
The boss had taken the day off, and had been out on personal business and was headed back into his apartment. I stopped him before he could open his door and said, "you've got to sign for it. I can't. I won't. You can't make me."
"Why?"
I told him why and he just stood there, weighing his options and then just hung his head and shook it. I heard him let out a sigh and say, "okay".
After he had signed for it, he came into my office holding our copy of the invoice held, pinched between his fingers, held way out away from him. I was reaching for the disinfectant spray even before he could finish asking for it. He held the papers out so I could spray them front and back.
Even though I didn't physically touch the papers, I still felt the need to clean my hands in sanitizer. I told the boss to go wash his hands asap as well.
Okay, so I'm telling any and all of you that live/work in the LaGrange area, don't drink coffee from any establishment that serves John Conti, because the delivery guy doesn't wash.
Honestly people, I know this happens everywhere, everyday, by all kinds of people. Although in this day and age you'd think people would know better. However, I prefer to go through life hoping that the person(s) before me have washed. But when someone flaunts it at me like that, I just can't help but be revolted.
And the open-door restroom policy... what is that all about??????????????
Confessions
It's time to come clean and confess a few things.
Some admissions will come as no surprise to those that know me best. Others will be astonished, perhaps go, "hmm", or "Hey, me too!", and some might even be disgusted.
Feel free to comment, share a thought, or make your own confessions.
#1) I'm extremely anal about clothes hangers. The hanger simply HAS to hang "over" the hook, not "under"... in other words, that little opening of the hanger-hook shouldn't face you. It should face the back of the closet. Make sense? Also, all my clothing has to face to my right. I simply can not and will not tolerate clothing facing to the left. It just makes me insane!
I used to VERY o.c.d. about grouping my clothes together. Pants, skirts and dresses to the left. Then t-shirts and casual clothing, leading into my dress shirts and long-sleeved items on the right. Actually, I still basically follow this rule, but not nearly so obsessively as in the past. It used to be, I'd hang everything in that order, and then broken down by color, and also, everything had to be on a plastic hanger of a co-ordinating color. Color coded hangers is one thing I've definitely managed to get away from over the years.
#2) I have an addiction to lipbalm. I've got tubes of the stuff stashed everywhere. Several in the bathroom, on my nightstand, in my purse, in the car, in my desk at work, my desk at home, in the pockets of various jackets. I'm a lip-balm junky.
But thanks to a recent article in the Courier-Journal, I now know that I'm not alone. There are support groups out there for junkies such as myself. I've taken the first step in admitting I have a problem. Now I just have to want to get help.
Nope, I'm not there yet. I enjoy my lipbalm too much. ;P
#3) Another thing I'm anal about... money. I don't mean having it, although that's nice too. No, I am somewhat anal about the direction that paper money faces in my wallet, VERY anal about the direction it faces in a cash register drawer, and it drives me bonkers when a bank teller, of all people!, hands me money and the bills are all turned in different directions! The insanity of it!!! The money should always face up, and preferably to the right, although to the left is fine, just as long as it's all going in the same direction. I have a former co-worker at my part-time BP job to thank for instilling that compulsion in me. Thanks Tim!
#4) I'm a picker.
Before your mind jumps to nose-picking and booger-eating, let me just stop you right there!
The picking I am referring to is the bottom of my heels, and the tips of my fingers.
There. I said it.
I suppose it's a form of self-mutilation? Perhaps in line with cutting? I don't do it because I get some kind of thrill from any pain that may arise from it. Sometimes it does cause pain, sometimes not. Sometimes it opens up wounds that bleed, but not usually. More often than not I do it rather absent mindedly without even realizing what I'm doing 'til the damage is already done.
I'm an obsessive hand-washer, and as a result, my hands are always very dry and chapped, which creates little flecks of skin, which I start picking at. Or the cuticles, that's even worse! And too, it's just something of a nervous habit. I guess it's a kind of coping mechanism for me, especially when I'm in an awkward situation.
As for the heels... if I can keep them buffed smooth with my Dremmel and lotion on them, then I'm okay. But if I get away from Dremmeling and the heels start to get rough and cracked, then watch out! I've picked them 'til they bleed and are painful. And of course after handling my feet, I have to run and wash my hands, chapping them even more. It's a vicious cycle!
My sister is (or at least, WAS at one time) a heel picker also. I don't know how we both ended up with this habit. We didn't get it from our parents. But after researching it on-line, again, I know I'm not alone. There are lots of others out there in the same boat as I.
Okay, there you have it. Some of my deep dark secrets.
Any comments from the peanut-gallery out there?
Some admissions will come as no surprise to those that know me best. Others will be astonished, perhaps go, "hmm", or "Hey, me too!", and some might even be disgusted.
Feel free to comment, share a thought, or make your own confessions.
#1) I'm extremely anal about clothes hangers. The hanger simply HAS to hang "over" the hook, not "under"... in other words, that little opening of the hanger-hook shouldn't face you. It should face the back of the closet. Make sense? Also, all my clothing has to face to my right. I simply can not and will not tolerate clothing facing to the left. It just makes me insane!
I used to VERY o.c.d. about grouping my clothes together. Pants, skirts and dresses to the left. Then t-shirts and casual clothing, leading into my dress shirts and long-sleeved items on the right. Actually, I still basically follow this rule, but not nearly so obsessively as in the past. It used to be, I'd hang everything in that order, and then broken down by color, and also, everything had to be on a plastic hanger of a co-ordinating color. Color coded hangers is one thing I've definitely managed to get away from over the years.
#2) I have an addiction to lipbalm. I've got tubes of the stuff stashed everywhere. Several in the bathroom, on my nightstand, in my purse, in the car, in my desk at work, my desk at home, in the pockets of various jackets. I'm a lip-balm junky.
But thanks to a recent article in the Courier-Journal, I now know that I'm not alone. There are support groups out there for junkies such as myself. I've taken the first step in admitting I have a problem. Now I just have to want to get help.
Nope, I'm not there yet. I enjoy my lipbalm too much. ;P
#3) Another thing I'm anal about... money. I don't mean having it, although that's nice too. No, I am somewhat anal about the direction that paper money faces in my wallet, VERY anal about the direction it faces in a cash register drawer, and it drives me bonkers when a bank teller, of all people!, hands me money and the bills are all turned in different directions! The insanity of it!!! The money should always face up, and preferably to the right, although to the left is fine, just as long as it's all going in the same direction. I have a former co-worker at my part-time BP job to thank for instilling that compulsion in me. Thanks Tim!
#4) I'm a picker.
Before your mind jumps to nose-picking and booger-eating, let me just stop you right there!
The picking I am referring to is the bottom of my heels, and the tips of my fingers.
There. I said it.
I suppose it's a form of self-mutilation? Perhaps in line with cutting? I don't do it because I get some kind of thrill from any pain that may arise from it. Sometimes it does cause pain, sometimes not. Sometimes it opens up wounds that bleed, but not usually. More often than not I do it rather absent mindedly without even realizing what I'm doing 'til the damage is already done.
I'm an obsessive hand-washer, and as a result, my hands are always very dry and chapped, which creates little flecks of skin, which I start picking at. Or the cuticles, that's even worse! And too, it's just something of a nervous habit. I guess it's a kind of coping mechanism for me, especially when I'm in an awkward situation.
As for the heels... if I can keep them buffed smooth with my Dremmel and lotion on them, then I'm okay. But if I get away from Dremmeling and the heels start to get rough and cracked, then watch out! I've picked them 'til they bleed and are painful. And of course after handling my feet, I have to run and wash my hands, chapping them even more. It's a vicious cycle!
My sister is (or at least, WAS at one time) a heel picker also. I don't know how we both ended up with this habit. We didn't get it from our parents. But after researching it on-line, again, I know I'm not alone. There are lots of others out there in the same boat as I.
Okay, there you have it. Some of my deep dark secrets.
Any comments from the peanut-gallery out there?
Crummy Sunday
Gee, what a crummy day yesterday turned out to be.
For starters, I don't know how it happened, what caused it, or how serious this is, but my little Larry (the mid-sized frog) has an injury to his right hind leg. I noticed it yesterday afternoon. There was blood on his leg. I don't know if he somehow cut it on something (though I can't imagine what), if perhaps he got into a tussle with one of the larger crickets and perhaps a cricket leg punctured Larry's skin, or if there's something else going on there.
Not knowing froggy first-aid, I decided to just keep an eye on him, cross my fingers and hope for the best. He pretty much stayed in the same exact spot the remainder of the day, but at least I could see he was still alive.
This morning, he was no longer up on the glass, but down on the gravel, sitting at a cock-eyed angle, leaning to the left. The droplet of blood that had dried on his right leg had caused the leg to "freeze up", so to speak. The leg was stuck in that position because of the dried blood. Whenever he tried to hop, it was without the use of that leg, and he just looked pitiful.
I decided to take action. I warmed up some water and put it in a ziploc bag, then fished Larry out of the tank. Of course by now, he was hopping all over the place. Apparently panic was enough to help him break free of the dried blood. His right leg was no longer frozen in place, but now he was basically dragging it behind him. But at least he was now once again able to climb up the glass. I caught him and placed him in the bag with the tepid water, hoping that would help rinse away the dried blood.
Gee, hope it doesn't open up the wound and cause him to bleed to death. Oh whoa's me!!
He swam around for a moment and I returned him to his tank. He's still dragging the leg behind him, but at least he's able to get around better.
Can froggy parapalegics survive?
I got a phone call last night that absolutely left me with a heavy heart. Desiree had died.
At the grand old age of 13 years, 6 months.
Okay, before some of you freak out thinking somebody's human child passed away, let me just say that Desiree is(was) a Great Dane. She belonged to our breeder, and was the only dog she had left from the original 5 she possessed when we first met her. Desiree has outlived most of her own children. 13 years, going on 14... that's a long time for a Great Dane to live. She is what the rest of us aspire for, for our own Danes. Despite not getting around as well as she used to, Desi was still very active and full of life. She didn't run as fast anymore, but she still loved to go out and play with the other dogs everyday. Her boundless energy NEVER failed to amaze me.
While I didn't break down and cry, persay, as "G" thought I would, my heart was very heavy in my chest, and I did get teary-eyed. But as I told her, I think it's because I knew Desi lived such a long and wonderful life. And if it had to happen, I'm glad it happened now instead of in two weeks when she's out of town and I'll be caring for her dogs.
Desi, you were a fabulous inspiration! May you rest in peace now ol' girl!!
For starters, I don't know how it happened, what caused it, or how serious this is, but my little Larry (the mid-sized frog) has an injury to his right hind leg. I noticed it yesterday afternoon. There was blood on his leg. I don't know if he somehow cut it on something (though I can't imagine what), if perhaps he got into a tussle with one of the larger crickets and perhaps a cricket leg punctured Larry's skin, or if there's something else going on there.
Not knowing froggy first-aid, I decided to just keep an eye on him, cross my fingers and hope for the best. He pretty much stayed in the same exact spot the remainder of the day, but at least I could see he was still alive.
This morning, he was no longer up on the glass, but down on the gravel, sitting at a cock-eyed angle, leaning to the left. The droplet of blood that had dried on his right leg had caused the leg to "freeze up", so to speak. The leg was stuck in that position because of the dried blood. Whenever he tried to hop, it was without the use of that leg, and he just looked pitiful.
I decided to take action. I warmed up some water and put it in a ziploc bag, then fished Larry out of the tank. Of course by now, he was hopping all over the place. Apparently panic was enough to help him break free of the dried blood. His right leg was no longer frozen in place, but now he was basically dragging it behind him. But at least he was now once again able to climb up the glass. I caught him and placed him in the bag with the tepid water, hoping that would help rinse away the dried blood.
Gee, hope it doesn't open up the wound and cause him to bleed to death. Oh whoa's me!!
He swam around for a moment and I returned him to his tank. He's still dragging the leg behind him, but at least he's able to get around better.
Can froggy parapalegics survive?
I got a phone call last night that absolutely left me with a heavy heart. Desiree had died.
At the grand old age of 13 years, 6 months.
Okay, before some of you freak out thinking somebody's human child passed away, let me just say that Desiree is(was) a Great Dane. She belonged to our breeder, and was the only dog she had left from the original 5 she possessed when we first met her. Desiree has outlived most of her own children. 13 years, going on 14... that's a long time for a Great Dane to live. She is what the rest of us aspire for, for our own Danes. Despite not getting around as well as she used to, Desi was still very active and full of life. She didn't run as fast anymore, but she still loved to go out and play with the other dogs everyday. Her boundless energy NEVER failed to amaze me.
While I didn't break down and cry, persay, as "G" thought I would, my heart was very heavy in my chest, and I did get teary-eyed. But as I told her, I think it's because I knew Desi lived such a long and wonderful life. And if it had to happen, I'm glad it happened now instead of in two weeks when she's out of town and I'll be caring for her dogs.
Desi, you were a fabulous inspiration! May you rest in peace now ol' girl!!
Friday, November 21, 2008
The beginning of the busy season
TGIF to ya!!
Any big plans this weekend? The last weekend before the madness of the holiday season starts?
Not around our place. Just the usual... John going to work, me going to the farm. He bowls tomorrow night, I sit on my duff and sew.
I hope to get the summer clothes in my closet switched out with the winter duds in the spare closet. Perhaps take a mental inventory of what I have, need or want. Maybe I can squeeze in some shopping that I really can't afford.
I have visions of me cleaning the bathroom, or any room for that matter. But then the vision-bubble pops and I start laughing and it doesn't happen.
Our schedule, especially our weekend schedules, are quickly filling up for the remainder of the year. On one hand, it's fun going to all the parties and social gatherings, but on the other hand, it gets so tiring, always going, going, going. I wish these events were more spread out. Sadly, this year my husband's work banquet and one of his fire dept. dinners is on the same night, so he had to choose between them. Let me correct that, I chose for us, and I don't think it was the one he was wanting to attend.
I chose his employers banquet... the food is usually better, the door prizes are better, and it gives me an opportunity to see some of my old co-workers from when I worked there as well, some 17 years ago. I can see those fire dept. people any time I want... I just don't want to see too many of them. And too, at his workplace banquet, we won't be subjected to watching the same long boring video or have to listen to a long boring speech by a couple of people who shall remain nameless, like we are forced to endure year in and year out. It gets old after a while.
Once next Thursday arrives, our schedules are going to be turned upside down for at least the three weeks following, if not longer. So I better enjoy my weekend of peace and quiet while I've got it.
Have a good one everybody! See you in blogger-world next week. :)
Any big plans this weekend? The last weekend before the madness of the holiday season starts?
Not around our place. Just the usual... John going to work, me going to the farm. He bowls tomorrow night, I sit on my duff and sew.
I hope to get the summer clothes in my closet switched out with the winter duds in the spare closet. Perhaps take a mental inventory of what I have, need or want. Maybe I can squeeze in some shopping that I really can't afford.
I have visions of me cleaning the bathroom, or any room for that matter. But then the vision-bubble pops and I start laughing and it doesn't happen.
Our schedule, especially our weekend schedules, are quickly filling up for the remainder of the year. On one hand, it's fun going to all the parties and social gatherings, but on the other hand, it gets so tiring, always going, going, going. I wish these events were more spread out. Sadly, this year my husband's work banquet and one of his fire dept. dinners is on the same night, so he had to choose between them. Let me correct that, I chose for us, and I don't think it was the one he was wanting to attend.
I chose his employers banquet... the food is usually better, the door prizes are better, and it gives me an opportunity to see some of my old co-workers from when I worked there as well, some 17 years ago. I can see those fire dept. people any time I want... I just don't want to see too many of them. And too, at his workplace banquet, we won't be subjected to watching the same long boring video or have to listen to a long boring speech by a couple of people who shall remain nameless, like we are forced to endure year in and year out. It gets old after a while.
Once next Thursday arrives, our schedules are going to be turned upside down for at least the three weeks following, if not longer. So I better enjoy my weekend of peace and quiet while I've got it.
Have a good one everybody! See you in blogger-world next week. :)
A gift from Mother Nature
I don't think it's any big secret, I'm somewhat afraid of birds. As long as they are in a cage, or we're separated by glass, or as long as they're a good distance away from me, I'm fine with them. But I don't like being in a room with a bird that isn't caged, I don't care how friendly or docile it is. And often birds outdoors freak me out the way they swoop at you.
Having said all that...
I can however appreciate a birds beauty. For some, it's the vibrant, colorful plumage they're adorned with. Others, it's their song. And still others, it's the way they fly or even perch, looking regal, proud, and... free.
While our nations bird, the bald eagle, is a prime example of what I just described, many other birds share those same qualities, and I was privileged yesterday to bear witness to it.
As I was sitting in the bank drive-thru, awaiting the teller to process the deposit I was making, I saw a large bird come gliding in from the right, and land on the roof of the Dairy Queen across the parking lot from where I sat. I sat, mesmerized, waiting, hoping that the bird would come over to the edge of the building so I could have a better view of it. But it never did. As I exited the bank's parking lot, I passed behind the D.Q., and glanced up one last time, hoping for a glimpse of the large bird I'd seen. I finally spotted it, not on the roof, but sitting on top of a light pole. I stopped in the middle of the street, looked around to make sure nobody was behind me, and started backing up so I could turn into D.Q.'s parking lot.
But almost as if the bird could read my thoughts, I'd no sooner turned onto the lot than it took off, gliding down across the road and landing on an empty lot across the street. I circled the building and just as I was pulling out onto the road, hoping to get a better look, the bird again took flight. It almost seemed to be teasing me. I watched in awe as it flew, ever so gracefully up the road a short distance, and landed on yet another light pole at the Red Robin. I suddenly remembered I had my camera with me and reached behind the seat to fish it out of my bag. As I drove ever so slowly up the street with one hand (driving slowly so I wouldn't need my other hand to shift gears), I used my free hand to turn the camera on and zoom it in as much as possible. I turned onto Red Robin's lot and pulled off to the side, focusing my camera on the bird. He(she?) sat there for the longest time, but I was content just to sit and watch it, and wait for it to take flight again so I could watch it as it glided effortlessly through the air.
I'm not positive as to what kind of bird it was, but I'm leaning towards a red-tailed hawk. And the only reason I'm guessing it's a red-tailed hawk is because when I saw it fly to the ground, I saw it's tail feathers were a much lighter color then the rest of it's dark feathers, almost a reddish orange in color. If anyone can tell otherwise, please feel free to correct me.
Sorry these pictures aren't so great, my camera isn't the highest quality in the world, and then I enlarged them with photo-impressions.
I know the photos don't do the bird justice, but it truly was breathtaking to just sit and watch it, whether perched or in flight.
For just a few minutes yesterday afternoon, I was able to forget about work, bills, cooking dinner, taking care of my family, the stress of the upcoming holidays, etc., etc. I thank Mother Nature for that gift.
Friday photo challenge - Favorite
I took this pic late Wednesday night, feeling it was probably the only chance I'd have to get all three of them together at once, and more importantly, not moving! But then...
Darned if they didn't have a good behavior moment and cooperate the next morning while I took their picture, all alert, sitting still...
...and actually looking at me while I took this picture! I think I may have to get this one framed!
Sorry, I couldn't choose just one photo this week.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
REAL customer service
I've been banking at the same bank for almost 11 years now. It's the longest relationship I've ever had with any bank before in my life. Usually they do something to p!ss me off and I end up taking my business elsewhere.
Shocking, I know.
My only complaint is that my bank "XYZ" used to be called "ABC" and before that it was "DEF". Yes, they've been bought out a couple of times in the past decade. It kindly annoys me when these banks keep changing names, but I will say that the service I was getting stayed the same and I've remained happy. Or at the very least, they haven't made me unhappy.
I've been paying a monthly service charge of $7 on my checking account. I knew they had accounts that didn't charge the fee, but I thought it was only if you kept a minimum balance of, say, a $1000.
A thousand minimum? Puh-leeze! We're just happy if our balance surpasses that on payday.
Anywho...
I stopped at the local branch this afternoon to cash a check to replenish the petty-cash account here at work and a small dividend check I'd been carrying around for some time. When I pulled into the drive-thru, the girl that normally waits on me wasn't there, instead it was the inside-teller, Carol H. that waited on me. I've known Carol for many years. She was my supervisor at one of my previous part-time jobs several years ago. I don't know her well, just well enough to know who she is and find her a pleasant person to talk to.
Carol sent the tube back to me with the money, then came over the intercom. I was expecting the usual, "thanks and have a nice day" greeting. But instead she said, "I noticed you're account is being charged $7/month because it was set up when 'DEF' owned the company. I can take that off for you, but not without your permission. It won't change anything else about the account."
Needless to say I was dumbfounded. Here was somebody trying to save me money for a change!
"Do I have your permission?"
"Well yeah! Please and Thank you!!"
Can you say "yippee!"?
I know, it's only $84 a year, but still, it's $84 a year.
Seriously, Thank You Carol H.!!!
That's what I call real customer service!!
Shocking, I know.
My only complaint is that my bank "XYZ" used to be called "ABC" and before that it was "DEF". Yes, they've been bought out a couple of times in the past decade. It kindly annoys me when these banks keep changing names, but I will say that the service I was getting stayed the same and I've remained happy. Or at the very least, they haven't made me unhappy.
I've been paying a monthly service charge of $7 on my checking account. I knew they had accounts that didn't charge the fee, but I thought it was only if you kept a minimum balance of, say, a $1000.
A thousand minimum? Puh-leeze! We're just happy if our balance surpasses that on payday.
Anywho...
I stopped at the local branch this afternoon to cash a check to replenish the petty-cash account here at work and a small dividend check I'd been carrying around for some time. When I pulled into the drive-thru, the girl that normally waits on me wasn't there, instead it was the inside-teller, Carol H. that waited on me. I've known Carol for many years. She was my supervisor at one of my previous part-time jobs several years ago. I don't know her well, just well enough to know who she is and find her a pleasant person to talk to.
Carol sent the tube back to me with the money, then came over the intercom. I was expecting the usual, "thanks and have a nice day" greeting. But instead she said, "I noticed you're account is being charged $7/month because it was set up when 'DEF' owned the company. I can take that off for you, but not without your permission. It won't change anything else about the account."
Needless to say I was dumbfounded. Here was somebody trying to save me money for a change!
"Do I have your permission?"
"Well yeah! Please and Thank you!!"
Can you say "yippee!"?
I know, it's only $84 a year, but still, it's $84 a year.
Seriously, Thank You Carol H.!!!
That's what I call real customer service!!
I cleaned the little guys habitat out last night. It was getting a bit stinky... between the dead cricket carcasses and the (rotting) potato wedge that was including with their shipment. Blech!
I've started putting them in a ziploc bag while I do the cleaning. Made it easier to take pix of them. The hardest part was catching the few remaining live crickets!
Curly. Well over an inch long now.
Moe, and...
Larry.
Moe has just about caught up to Larry in size and it's getting increasingly difficult to tell them apart.
I've started putting them in a ziploc bag while I do the cleaning. Made it easier to take pix of them. The hardest part was catching the few remaining live crickets!
Curly. Well over an inch long now.
Moe, and...
Larry.
Moe has just about caught up to Larry in size and it's getting increasingly difficult to tell them apart.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Done!!
It only took me 6 & a half weeks, but I finally finished my quilt. California king-sized it is. The quilt weighs in at Six point Two pounds. It's definitely heavy. I can hardly wait to sleep under it tonight. :)
As I stated when I started this project, it was going to be a learning project. The quilt was made for function, not for looks. Good thing, as there are plenty of goofs... very obvious goofs... all over the place.
The biggest goof of all is in the upper left-hand corner that you can barely see. Yeah, I took the picture like that on purpose. No need to show you how badly I messed up in that one area. :(
The pockets from many of the shirts were left on, just to lend character to the blanket. ;P
Okay, so what lessons did I learn?
Weeelllll...
#1) as I was putting the last 8 inches of border on (after already having sewn nearly 400 inches onto the thing), I suddenly realized there was a better way to make the border. It would use up more material, but would be sooo much easier and save me time. Dang! Why didn't I figure that one out sooner???
#2) I really don't have the patience for tiny, precise stitches, but I certainly learned that I need to slow down and make my stitches more deliberate. Make more of an effort to keep them in line and more even in length.
#3) I've learned that even though I'm using a plaid patterned fabric that has seemingly straight lines on it, just because I cut along those "straight lines", it doesn't mean the patches will turn out to have 90-degree angles at its four corners. Seldom did my patches turn out to be true squares or rectangles. **sigh**
#4) I've learned that flannel is much stretchier (stretchyer?) than I ever realized.
#5) I've learned that if I plan on using one large, solid piece for a backing in the future, that I'll need to attach the front patches in smaller sections, as I go, instead of waiting 'til I've got the whole front section done. Let's just say that despite me having measured both sections so that they were the same size, they just didn't match up when I tried attaching them (thus creating that one big goof area) :(
#6) On the other hand, if I don't mind the top and bottom both being patchwork, then there is definitely an easier way for getting the sides to match up and at the corners.
#7) If I'm going to use patches that have pockets on them, I shouldn't place those patches on the outer edge of the blanket, as the border is likely to end up covering the pocket's opening. :(
#8) I need to slow down and take my time and inspect my work more closely as I go. It will certainly save me having to rip apart and redo things as much as I did on this quilt. Now that I'm done with it, I've found several areas I should've gone back and redone as it wasn't sewn properly. But since I didn't inspect my work closely enough at that time, it's too late and I've had to try and repair things as best as I can, but it's created some seriously ugly spots.
Oh well, like I said, it was a learning process. And learn I did! I'm happy with my first attempt, and will certainly try making another one. Hopefully it will turn out much better!!
As I stated when I started this project, it was going to be a learning project. The quilt was made for function, not for looks. Good thing, as there are plenty of goofs... very obvious goofs... all over the place.
The biggest goof of all is in the upper left-hand corner that you can barely see. Yeah, I took the picture like that on purpose. No need to show you how badly I messed up in that one area. :(
The pockets from many of the shirts were left on, just to lend character to the blanket. ;P
Okay, so what lessons did I learn?
Weeelllll...
#1) as I was putting the last 8 inches of border on (after already having sewn nearly 400 inches onto the thing), I suddenly realized there was a better way to make the border. It would use up more material, but would be sooo much easier and save me time. Dang! Why didn't I figure that one out sooner???
#2) I really don't have the patience for tiny, precise stitches, but I certainly learned that I need to slow down and make my stitches more deliberate. Make more of an effort to keep them in line and more even in length.
#3) I've learned that even though I'm using a plaid patterned fabric that has seemingly straight lines on it, just because I cut along those "straight lines", it doesn't mean the patches will turn out to have 90-degree angles at its four corners. Seldom did my patches turn out to be true squares or rectangles. **sigh**
#4) I've learned that flannel is much stretchier (stretchyer?) than I ever realized.
#5) I've learned that if I plan on using one large, solid piece for a backing in the future, that I'll need to attach the front patches in smaller sections, as I go, instead of waiting 'til I've got the whole front section done. Let's just say that despite me having measured both sections so that they were the same size, they just didn't match up when I tried attaching them (thus creating that one big goof area) :(
#6) On the other hand, if I don't mind the top and bottom both being patchwork, then there is definitely an easier way for getting the sides to match up and at the corners.
#7) If I'm going to use patches that have pockets on them, I shouldn't place those patches on the outer edge of the blanket, as the border is likely to end up covering the pocket's opening. :(
#8) I need to slow down and take my time and inspect my work more closely as I go. It will certainly save me having to rip apart and redo things as much as I did on this quilt. Now that I'm done with it, I've found several areas I should've gone back and redone as it wasn't sewn properly. But since I didn't inspect my work closely enough at that time, it's too late and I've had to try and repair things as best as I can, but it's created some seriously ugly spots.
Oh well, like I said, it was a learning process. And learn I did! I'm happy with my first attempt, and will certainly try making another one. Hopefully it will turn out much better!!
Awesome dinner
I made a most awesome dinner last night, if I do say so myself.
I sauteed chicken in basil-pesto flavored grape-seed oil, then sprinkled it with basil-pesto seasoning (both items from Wildtree).
Fixed some Alfredo sauce (again, from Wildtree) and served it over fettuccine, and the chicken pieces cut up over that. It was TOO DEEE-LISH!!
I sauteed chicken in basil-pesto flavored grape-seed oil, then sprinkled it with basil-pesto seasoning (both items from Wildtree).
Fixed some Alfredo sauce (again, from Wildtree) and served it over fettuccine, and the chicken pieces cut up over that. It was TOO DEEE-LISH!!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Photo challenge updates
For anyone interested in joining in the Friday Photo Challenge,
the link to Mountain Girl's site that lists the upcoming challenges is below.
To play along (no prizes involved, just some oohs and aahhs), all you need to do is post a photo on Friday (give or take a day) that depicts your interpretation of that days challenge.
You get to see some beautiful photos, some quirky shots, some things that make you think. It's interesting to see others interpretation of a single word.
http://mountaingirlrae.blogspot.com/2008/11/photo-challenge-updates_19.html
the link to Mountain Girl's site that lists the upcoming challenges is below.
To play along (no prizes involved, just some oohs and aahhs), all you need to do is post a photo on Friday (give or take a day) that depicts your interpretation of that days challenge.
You get to see some beautiful photos, some quirky shots, some things that make you think. It's interesting to see others interpretation of a single word.
http://mountaingirlrae.blogspot.com/2008/11/photo-challenge-updates_19.html
Tax dollars & our gov't at work
I've been holding it in, biting my tongue long enough on this subject, but I just got a phone call that has totally pushed me over the edge and I'm not going to hold my tongue any longer.
Be warned, the language is probably going to be a bit colorful and salty.
Every morning as I listen to the news, they keep talking about the bail out of the banks, the insurance industry, and now they're talking about bailing out the auto industry. Tell me why the tax payers should keep footing the bill for corporate greed and mismanagement? It fucking pisses me off to no end. Especially when I hear how some of these auto big-wigs salaries are paid several million a year. Why not let them give up their salary for a year, learn to live like the average American and bail out their own companies?
Or when I hear how one bank took the money they were allotted in the bail out and turned around and purchased another banking company... I fail to see how that was a sound business move!
Our city's mayor broke the news yesterday about how our city is facing a budget shortfall and there would be cutbacks on services and some lay-offs.
The streets in my little subdivision are approximately 13 to 14 years old. With the exception of one small area at the end of one cul-de-sac, the streets are in surprisingly good shape. I can think of a lot worse roads in our community that need paving. Yet last week, the machinery showed up and chewed up the old pavement in our neighborhood, creating quite a mess that I won't go into, and this morning as I was leaving for work, they were firing up the paving equipment to lay down new asphalt. It was below freezing outside, I can't imagine that this is the best time to put down new pavement, but what do I know? Regardless, this seems like a big waste of our tax dollars. Why not wait 'til the roads actually needed re-paving?
Okay, so the phone call that just put me over the edge...
My husband, who volunteers on two different fire departments (he's not been an active firefighter in over a year because of his knees, but he still helps out when & where he can), called to tell me that next Tuesday, one of the departments was inviting all the firefighters, their spouse or date, their children, the support team (ladies auxiliary) and their family members to go to Incredible Dave's for a night of food and fun.
Incredible Dave's, for those of you that aren't familiar with it, is a restaurant-slash-indoor "amusement park".
Now, unless I.D.'s is footing the bill for a couple of hundred people (or more?) to eat and play at it's establishment (and somehow I seriously doubt they are), then that means that the tax-payers are footing the bill for this night of fun and eating. This just pisses me off to no freaking end!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My husband was wanting to know if I was going, as he needed to add my name to the list.
Was I going? Hell NO!!!!!
Honestly folks, I could go on and on about all the wasted taxpayer dollars that the fire department spends, but I'd be here all night. You simply have no idea!!
I'm not trying to knock the fire department(s), they serve a useful purpose and I hope they'll be there should I ever need them, but seriously, they could cut back on some of the ridiculous spending they do. But then, I guess they are no different than any other branch of our gov't.!!
Be warned, the language is probably going to be a bit colorful and salty.
Every morning as I listen to the news, they keep talking about the bail out of the banks, the insurance industry, and now they're talking about bailing out the auto industry. Tell me why the tax payers should keep footing the bill for corporate greed and mismanagement? It fucking pisses me off to no end. Especially when I hear how some of these auto big-wigs salaries are paid several million a year. Why not let them give up their salary for a year, learn to live like the average American and bail out their own companies?
Or when I hear how one bank took the money they were allotted in the bail out and turned around and purchased another banking company... I fail to see how that was a sound business move!
Our city's mayor broke the news yesterday about how our city is facing a budget shortfall and there would be cutbacks on services and some lay-offs.
The streets in my little subdivision are approximately 13 to 14 years old. With the exception of one small area at the end of one cul-de-sac, the streets are in surprisingly good shape. I can think of a lot worse roads in our community that need paving. Yet last week, the machinery showed up and chewed up the old pavement in our neighborhood, creating quite a mess that I won't go into, and this morning as I was leaving for work, they were firing up the paving equipment to lay down new asphalt. It was below freezing outside, I can't imagine that this is the best time to put down new pavement, but what do I know? Regardless, this seems like a big waste of our tax dollars. Why not wait 'til the roads actually needed re-paving?
Okay, so the phone call that just put me over the edge...
My husband, who volunteers on two different fire departments (he's not been an active firefighter in over a year because of his knees, but he still helps out when & where he can), called to tell me that next Tuesday, one of the departments was inviting all the firefighters, their spouse or date, their children, the support team (ladies auxiliary) and their family members to go to Incredible Dave's for a night of food and fun.
Incredible Dave's, for those of you that aren't familiar with it, is a restaurant-slash-indoor "amusement park".
Now, unless I.D.'s is footing the bill for a couple of hundred people (or more?) to eat and play at it's establishment (and somehow I seriously doubt they are), then that means that the tax-payers are footing the bill for this night of fun and eating. This just pisses me off to no freaking end!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My husband was wanting to know if I was going, as he needed to add my name to the list.
Was I going? Hell NO!!!!!
Honestly folks, I could go on and on about all the wasted taxpayer dollars that the fire department spends, but I'd be here all night. You simply have no idea!!
I'm not trying to knock the fire department(s), they serve a useful purpose and I hope they'll be there should I ever need them, but seriously, they could cut back on some of the ridiculous spending they do. But then, I guess they are no different than any other branch of our gov't.!!
1/2 price dinner
The hubby & I went to Red Robin for dinner last night. I had a $3 off coupon that was about to expire (good reason to dine out, eh?) and wanted to use it. When we arrived, the hostess seated us in a booth that was sooo small, I felt claustrophobic. No elbow space whatsoever! When the waiter finally came over, I asked if we could move to a larger booth as that one was just too small. I wouldn't put two children in there, much less two large adults. I got the smart-assed reply from the waiter of "well we do it everyday."
Okay, he was quickly widdling away his tip. All he had to do was move us, no smart-assed reply was necessary. Actually, it wasn't so much what he said as it was the way he said it. Guess you had to be there to appreciate it.
We changed booths, placed our orders, the food arrived and we ate.
When the bill came (never even asked if we wanted dessert... but that was fine, I didn't, but aren't they supposed to ask?), I pulled out my debit card and the coupon. When our waiter came to get the payment he barely glanced at the coupon I'd printed off the computer, and just assumed it was a birthday-freebie. He offered a free birthday dessert, which I declined. #1) I didn't want dessert, and #2) it wasn't my birthday. I knew that the coupon said I'd have to show i.d., so I offered to show him, but he declined. I said, "well, it matches the name on the debit card anyway" and he went to run my card.
Our original bill had been $26 and some change.
A 15% tip would've been about $3.74, so I went on and rounded up to $4 as he'd somewhat redeemed himself by providing decent service.
He came back a moment later, now asking for my i.d.
I mentally rolled my eyes, but showed it to him anyway.
He left, then came back again and left the debit slip for me to sign. I prepared to sign and said, "Whoa!" I looked at John and said, "this isn't right. The charge slip is only for $15.66. It should've been for $23 whatever (before tip)." I thought perhaps he'd run the wrong table's bill through on my card. I didn't want some other unsuspecting diner to be charged with our higher bill.
We flagged down our waiter and pointed out the mistake. His comment, "you're good. I didn't know how to run coupons through and the manager made me do it. I thought it was a birthday (free dinner) coupon."
I just looked at him. Didn't he even bother reading the thing I'd given him?
"But it was only for $3 off. Don't you want to correct this?"
"No, you're good. Don't worry about it."
We thanked him, and now I upped his tip a little more. I was feeling guilty for having complained about the small booth. Maybe that was his game-plan, make me feel guilty, and I'd give him a bigger tip. Either way, we were only charged for one dinner and two beverages. I could go for cheap meals like that more often.
Okay, he was quickly widdling away his tip. All he had to do was move us, no smart-assed reply was necessary. Actually, it wasn't so much what he said as it was the way he said it. Guess you had to be there to appreciate it.
We changed booths, placed our orders, the food arrived and we ate.
When the bill came (never even asked if we wanted dessert... but that was fine, I didn't, but aren't they supposed to ask?), I pulled out my debit card and the coupon. When our waiter came to get the payment he barely glanced at the coupon I'd printed off the computer, and just assumed it was a birthday-freebie. He offered a free birthday dessert, which I declined. #1) I didn't want dessert, and #2) it wasn't my birthday. I knew that the coupon said I'd have to show i.d., so I offered to show him, but he declined. I said, "well, it matches the name on the debit card anyway" and he went to run my card.
Our original bill had been $26 and some change.
A 15% tip would've been about $3.74, so I went on and rounded up to $4 as he'd somewhat redeemed himself by providing decent service.
He came back a moment later, now asking for my i.d.
I mentally rolled my eyes, but showed it to him anyway.
He left, then came back again and left the debit slip for me to sign. I prepared to sign and said, "Whoa!" I looked at John and said, "this isn't right. The charge slip is only for $15.66. It should've been for $23 whatever (before tip)." I thought perhaps he'd run the wrong table's bill through on my card. I didn't want some other unsuspecting diner to be charged with our higher bill.
We flagged down our waiter and pointed out the mistake. His comment, "you're good. I didn't know how to run coupons through and the manager made me do it. I thought it was a birthday (free dinner) coupon."
I just looked at him. Didn't he even bother reading the thing I'd given him?
"But it was only for $3 off. Don't you want to correct this?"
"No, you're good. Don't worry about it."
We thanked him, and now I upped his tip a little more. I was feeling guilty for having complained about the small booth. Maybe that was his game-plan, make me feel guilty, and I'd give him a bigger tip. Either way, we were only charged for one dinner and two beverages. I could go for cheap meals like that more often.
Monday, November 17, 2008
An awkward situation
I was just over at "anothermommyblog" and reading about an awkward situation she had with a man she'd met, and it reminded me of an awkward situation I had a few years ago...
I was on a business trip some 6 years ago, for my former employer. I was staying at a hotel in Paducah, KY, some three hours west of where I live. One evening, as I was returning from the job-site, I was circling the parking lot of the hotel and I saw a white Ford Escape pulling into a parking space. I knew in an instant who that Escape belonged to.
There are hundreds, maybe even thousands of white Escapes on the road, and there was nothing distinctive about this one, no bumper stickers or logos on it, and I don't think I had the license plate number memorized. But there was just something distinctive about it that I never could put my finger on. But I recognized it as being the car my neighbor across the street drove whenever he was traveling for his company.
This young man & his wife hadn't lived across from us for very long and I didn't know them very well at that point. They had yet to become the near & dear friends they are today.
I finally found a parking place and walked into the hotel and sure enough, there was my neighbor checking in at the front desk. I stopped to say "hello". We spoke for a moment and then went our separate ways. I saw him again the next morning, spoke ever so briefly, and again we parted ways.
We both told our spouses about having bumped into one another, but I couldn't help but think, "what are the odds?" and "how suspicious does this look?" and "thank goodness we have such trusting spouses!"
I was on a business trip some 6 years ago, for my former employer. I was staying at a hotel in Paducah, KY, some three hours west of where I live. One evening, as I was returning from the job-site, I was circling the parking lot of the hotel and I saw a white Ford Escape pulling into a parking space. I knew in an instant who that Escape belonged to.
There are hundreds, maybe even thousands of white Escapes on the road, and there was nothing distinctive about this one, no bumper stickers or logos on it, and I don't think I had the license plate number memorized. But there was just something distinctive about it that I never could put my finger on. But I recognized it as being the car my neighbor across the street drove whenever he was traveling for his company.
This young man & his wife hadn't lived across from us for very long and I didn't know them very well at that point. They had yet to become the near & dear friends they are today.
I finally found a parking place and walked into the hotel and sure enough, there was my neighbor checking in at the front desk. I stopped to say "hello". We spoke for a moment and then went our separate ways. I saw him again the next morning, spoke ever so briefly, and again we parted ways.
We both told our spouses about having bumped into one another, but I couldn't help but think, "what are the odds?" and "how suspicious does this look?" and "thank goodness we have such trusting spouses!"
To quote Joan Rivers: Can we talk?
This is a blog about food. But not one of my usual food-blogs, telling what I've cooked, or mentioning a new recipe. No, I want to discuss what's good and bad for us. I'm not a health nut, so I'm not going to start spouting off about eating healthy. But hear me out on a couple of examples, and then give me your thoughts please.
Starting with butter/margarine...
We're not supposed to eat butter because of the saturated fats, cholesterol and calories, yet margarine is only molecules away from the consistency of plastic. While we may be cutting out the fat, calories and cholesterol, do we really want to eat plastic, regardless of how good it tastes?
I suppose we could use that Brummel & Brown stuff that's made from yogurt, but I've only ever seen it in small containers, not in stick form, and honestly, I don't think it tastes all that good.
So what's a person to do?
Beverages...
I'm an admitted soda-holic. For decades I drank the hard-stuff, mainly Coke and Big Red, fully loaded with sugar and calories. In the past few years, I've managed to switch over to diet Big Red, and iced tea loaded with LOTS of Sweet n Low. Knowing the regular sodas are bad for us because of the empty calories we're consuming and no nutritional value what-so-ever! I'm now hearing of how the artificial sweeteners found in diet drinks and packets of sweetener are bad for us because they cause a host of problems, loss of memory among them. And let's not forget that the phosphorous(sp?) in sodas is very bad for our bone density as well. I could drink juices, but then I'm consuming a lot of natural sugar, still not good for me. I could drink just water, but that gets dull after a while, and I'm not much of a coffee drinker.
So, given the two examples above, I have two choices...
#1) I could eat "regular" food and get fat(fatter!), have high cholesterol, heart disease and a shorter life span, but at least I'll remember how good the food tasted.
or
#2) I can "eat healthy" by consuming the diet foods, fill my body with plastic, be thin, live a long time, but lose my memory and not remember that it all tasted like crap.
Which lifestyle would you choose??
Starting with butter/margarine...
We're not supposed to eat butter because of the saturated fats, cholesterol and calories, yet margarine is only molecules away from the consistency of plastic. While we may be cutting out the fat, calories and cholesterol, do we really want to eat plastic, regardless of how good it tastes?
I suppose we could use that Brummel & Brown stuff that's made from yogurt, but I've only ever seen it in small containers, not in stick form, and honestly, I don't think it tastes all that good.
So what's a person to do?
Beverages...
I'm an admitted soda-holic. For decades I drank the hard-stuff, mainly Coke and Big Red, fully loaded with sugar and calories. In the past few years, I've managed to switch over to diet Big Red, and iced tea loaded with LOTS of Sweet n Low. Knowing the regular sodas are bad for us because of the empty calories we're consuming and no nutritional value what-so-ever! I'm now hearing of how the artificial sweeteners found in diet drinks and packets of sweetener are bad for us because they cause a host of problems, loss of memory among them. And let's not forget that the phosphorous(sp?) in sodas is very bad for our bone density as well. I could drink juices, but then I'm consuming a lot of natural sugar, still not good for me. I could drink just water, but that gets dull after a while, and I'm not much of a coffee drinker.
So, given the two examples above, I have two choices...
#1) I could eat "regular" food and get fat(fatter!), have high cholesterol, heart disease and a shorter life span, but at least I'll remember how good the food tasted.
or
#2) I can "eat healthy" by consuming the diet foods, fill my body with plastic, be thin, live a long time, but lose my memory and not remember that it all tasted like crap.
Which lifestyle would you choose??
Quilting: Week 6 update
I had grand hopes of getting my quilt done over the weekend, but between all the running around Saturday and the issues with the washer on Sunday, it didn't quite happen. I'm close, but not quite there.
Here are some pix of my progress...
I've got the yarn pieces attached to about 1/2 of the quilt thus far.
Here are some pix of my progress...
I've got the yarn pieces attached to about 1/2 of the quilt thus far.
Aside from finishing the yarn pieces, I've just got to finish putting the border-binding on the top edge of the quilt, and I'll be done. It may not be purdy to look at, but it sho' 'nuff will be a warm blanket. Just as long as it doesn't fall apart in the laundry, I'll be happy. :)
Kissy face
I caught Larry & Curly playing Kissy-face. I'm not sure if they just happened to fall asleep face to face like this, or if there was actually something else going on here. I guess this might require a bit of research on froggy love habits.
I finally managed to get a picture of all three together...
I finally managed to get a picture of all three together...
That's Moe on the far left, keeping his distance while Curly & Larry romanced one another. ;)
Of course, maybe I should just consider renaming Larry. Perhaps maybe call him Laurie?
The good, the bad, and the discombobulated
What a weekend! So much to do, so little time to do it.
Saturday a.m., I made the 15 mile drive to LaGrange. Normally I limit these drives to weekdays when I go to work, but the new Tractor Supply was having their grand opening sale, and, well, call me curious! So I went. I came away with a bag of dogfood I was needing to purchase anyway, a huge bag of giant dog biscuits, a pair of bib-overalls (I've wanted a pair for a loooonnng time, but couldn't ever find any to fit me properly, 'til now), and a heavy-duty flannel shirt-jacket thingy. I went looking for new boots to wear on the farm, but couldn't find any I liked that would fit me properly. It probably bodes well for me that this store isn't located closer to home, 'cause I like it!
Back home I threw pepper steak into the crockpot for our dinner, then hunted down the cats which were hiding. Any other time they'd be lying on our bed, but they always seem to know when it's time for them to go to the vet. Once I'd stuffed them in the cat-carrier, I carried them past the snarling k-9 beasts that wanted to do the kitties harm. I'm sure that helped to wear away at their 9 lives. $170 later, my two 16 year old cats got a clean bill of health and I left the vet's office, then went to my allergist for an injection, stopped at AAA for a trip-tik for an upcoming trip, then to Sam's Club since I was in the vicinity. By the time I arrived back home, it was 1pm and by the time I'd unloaded everything, it was 20 after. I was supposed to be in downtown Louisville by 1:30 for an awards presentation for one of our neighbors, but obviously that didn't happen.
I decided to get a head start on laundry and did several loads Saturday evening without any problems... this tidbit of info is important to the end of this blog.
Sunday, as I headed to the farm, all bundled up in my new bib-overalls & flannel jacket and then some, I stopped at Burger King to get a hamlet sandwich for breakfast. The BK employee informed me they'd discontinued the hamlets. Needless to say, I was a little perturbed and canceled my order, grumbling for the next several miles down the road.
Things at the farm went smoothly, and despite the chilly temperatures, I stayed warm.
Back home, I again started in on laundry, tossing a load of white stuff in the washer. I noticed the washer was making a slightly odd noise, but it wasn't odd enough to prompt me to go inspect it. Once it finished running, I went to put the whites in the dryer. Imagine my surprise when I opened the washer to find the clothes, not plastered to the side of the tub, 1/2 way dry from the spin cycle, but just lying in the bottom of the tub, sopping wet. WTH?
I turned the knob and set it for another spin cycle, but other than that odd humming noise I'd heard earlier, nothing happened. Great, now the washer was broke. Arghhh!! I begged the use of our neighbor's washer so I could run the whites through a spin cycle. Back home I was getting more upset by the moment, thinking about having to get the washer repaired, or worse, replaced! It was only about 3 years old, shouldn't it last longer than that??
When the husband finally got home late in the afternoon, I informed him he'd have to take the rest of the laundry down to the firehouse to wash it until I could get a repairman to come to the house. I wanted him to see just what the washer was doing, or should I say, NOT doing, and went to demonstrate. Damned if it didn't work now! ARGHHH! Go ahead, make a liar out of me!!
Doubting it would actually work for an entire wash cycle, I stuffed his uniforms in and turned it on. It worked from start to finish. I washed another load, again it worked just fine.
Okay, am I losing my mind here? Don't get me wrong, I'm greatful I won't have to get it repaired or replaced. But I hate that I wasted so much time that afternoon not being able to get the laundry done and that I'd disrupted my friends afternoon so I could finish a load at their house.
I suppose all is well that ends well. Only 5 days of work this week and 3 next week, then I'm off work 'til the 8th of Dec. Life is good.
Saturday a.m., I made the 15 mile drive to LaGrange. Normally I limit these drives to weekdays when I go to work, but the new Tractor Supply was having their grand opening sale, and, well, call me curious! So I went. I came away with a bag of dogfood I was needing to purchase anyway, a huge bag of giant dog biscuits, a pair of bib-overalls (I've wanted a pair for a loooonnng time, but couldn't ever find any to fit me properly, 'til now), and a heavy-duty flannel shirt-jacket thingy. I went looking for new boots to wear on the farm, but couldn't find any I liked that would fit me properly. It probably bodes well for me that this store isn't located closer to home, 'cause I like it!
Back home I threw pepper steak into the crockpot for our dinner, then hunted down the cats which were hiding. Any other time they'd be lying on our bed, but they always seem to know when it's time for them to go to the vet. Once I'd stuffed them in the cat-carrier, I carried them past the snarling k-9 beasts that wanted to do the kitties harm. I'm sure that helped to wear away at their 9 lives. $170 later, my two 16 year old cats got a clean bill of health and I left the vet's office, then went to my allergist for an injection, stopped at AAA for a trip-tik for an upcoming trip, then to Sam's Club since I was in the vicinity. By the time I arrived back home, it was 1pm and by the time I'd unloaded everything, it was 20 after. I was supposed to be in downtown Louisville by 1:30 for an awards presentation for one of our neighbors, but obviously that didn't happen.
I decided to get a head start on laundry and did several loads Saturday evening without any problems... this tidbit of info is important to the end of this blog.
Sunday, as I headed to the farm, all bundled up in my new bib-overalls & flannel jacket and then some, I stopped at Burger King to get a hamlet sandwich for breakfast. The BK employee informed me they'd discontinued the hamlets. Needless to say, I was a little perturbed and canceled my order, grumbling for the next several miles down the road.
Things at the farm went smoothly, and despite the chilly temperatures, I stayed warm.
Back home, I again started in on laundry, tossing a load of white stuff in the washer. I noticed the washer was making a slightly odd noise, but it wasn't odd enough to prompt me to go inspect it. Once it finished running, I went to put the whites in the dryer. Imagine my surprise when I opened the washer to find the clothes, not plastered to the side of the tub, 1/2 way dry from the spin cycle, but just lying in the bottom of the tub, sopping wet. WTH?
I turned the knob and set it for another spin cycle, but other than that odd humming noise I'd heard earlier, nothing happened. Great, now the washer was broke. Arghhh!! I begged the use of our neighbor's washer so I could run the whites through a spin cycle. Back home I was getting more upset by the moment, thinking about having to get the washer repaired, or worse, replaced! It was only about 3 years old, shouldn't it last longer than that??
When the husband finally got home late in the afternoon, I informed him he'd have to take the rest of the laundry down to the firehouse to wash it until I could get a repairman to come to the house. I wanted him to see just what the washer was doing, or should I say, NOT doing, and went to demonstrate. Damned if it didn't work now! ARGHHH! Go ahead, make a liar out of me!!
Doubting it would actually work for an entire wash cycle, I stuffed his uniforms in and turned it on. It worked from start to finish. I washed another load, again it worked just fine.
Okay, am I losing my mind here? Don't get me wrong, I'm greatful I won't have to get it repaired or replaced. But I hate that I wasted so much time that afternoon not being able to get the laundry done and that I'd disrupted my friends afternoon so I could finish a load at their house.
I suppose all is well that ends well. Only 5 days of work this week and 3 next week, then I'm off work 'til the 8th of Dec. Life is good.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Crockpot challenge
Day 28) Nov. 12th - mashed potatoes
Day 29) Nov. 13th - I had the best of intentions of fixing lasagna in the crockpot. Sprayed the inside of the pot, plugged it in, got all the ingredients out to fix it, then realized I didn't have a jar of alfredo sauce. Grrr! Granted, I had the stuff I could've made the sauce from scratch, but I didn't have the extra 15 minutes to do so. So a big "NADDA" on the crockpot cooking this day. I did however make an AWESOME basil/pesto chicken & penne pasta casserole in the oven when I got home!!
Day 30) Nov. 14th - Again this morning I didn't have enough time to fix the alfredo sauce from scratch, so all the other ingredients are still sitting out on my counter. Another big NADDA.
This ends my 30-day crockpot challenge.
I managed to use the crockpot 20 out of 30 days in this challenge. I don't think that's too shabby. I tip my hat to the woman that's doing the 365 day challenge!
Day 29) Nov. 13th - I had the best of intentions of fixing lasagna in the crockpot. Sprayed the inside of the pot, plugged it in, got all the ingredients out to fix it, then realized I didn't have a jar of alfredo sauce. Grrr! Granted, I had the stuff I could've made the sauce from scratch, but I didn't have the extra 15 minutes to do so. So a big "NADDA" on the crockpot cooking this day. I did however make an AWESOME basil/pesto chicken & penne pasta casserole in the oven when I got home!!
Day 30) Nov. 14th - Again this morning I didn't have enough time to fix the alfredo sauce from scratch, so all the other ingredients are still sitting out on my counter. Another big NADDA.
This ends my 30-day crockpot challenge.
I managed to use the crockpot 20 out of 30 days in this challenge. I don't think that's too shabby. I tip my hat to the woman that's doing the 365 day challenge!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Losing a bit of my childhood?
My parents have had the same phone number since June of 1975, despite having lived in three different homes. Because they stayed in the same community, they were able to just have the phone-line "moved" each time they moved. That's 33+ years of having the same phone number! I know some people who change their phone number multiple times in a single year!
Admittedly, I don't call home often. I'm independent and not one for making idle chit-chat on the phone. If I have something specific I want to ask or share, I'll call. But hey, they don't call me either, so don't go thinking I'm the bad-daughter for not calling more often.
So imagine my surprise when I called home the other day, only to get a recording that the number had been disconnected. Oh no! I know things were tough, what with my dad having been on medical leave from his job for 10 months, but had things really gotten that bad?
I called my mother's cell phone, wondering if it too had been disconnected. When she answered, I was a bit relieved. First thing I asked was, "what happened to the home phone?"
They'd come into this century and had the home phone disconnected and are just using their cell phones, no point in paying for an extra phone. Well duh! My husband and I did that very same thing years ago, as many people I know have done the same thing. But still, it was somewhat of a shock! You'd think she'd have either called and told me or at the very least, sent an email.
Somehow, it felt like a link to my childhood had slipped away with the disappearance of that number from my speed-dial. :(
Admittedly, I don't call home often. I'm independent and not one for making idle chit-chat on the phone. If I have something specific I want to ask or share, I'll call. But hey, they don't call me either, so don't go thinking I'm the bad-daughter for not calling more often.
So imagine my surprise when I called home the other day, only to get a recording that the number had been disconnected. Oh no! I know things were tough, what with my dad having been on medical leave from his job for 10 months, but had things really gotten that bad?
I called my mother's cell phone, wondering if it too had been disconnected. When she answered, I was a bit relieved. First thing I asked was, "what happened to the home phone?"
They'd come into this century and had the home phone disconnected and are just using their cell phones, no point in paying for an extra phone. Well duh! My husband and I did that very same thing years ago, as many people I know have done the same thing. But still, it was somewhat of a shock! You'd think she'd have either called and told me or at the very least, sent an email.
Somehow, it felt like a link to my childhood had slipped away with the disappearance of that number from my speed-dial. :(
Book review
I just finished reading a book over the weekend and thought I'd give it a thumbs-up recommendation to any readers out there looking for a good book. It was titled: "For Bea" by Kristen von Kiesler (hope I'm spelling that correctly).
If you're an animal lover, especially a dog lover, and more specifically, a beagle lover, this book is for you!
It's the story of Bea, a rescued beagle that captured this family's heart. There are tears, 'though mostly happy ones. Lots of laughs! I especially identified with their issues on brushing the dog's teeth.
After reading "M"s blog about her dog eating a stick of butter (that's what reminded me to write this review), it let's those of us that are dog owners know that WE ARE NOT ALONE with our pets issues.
If you get a chance to pick up a copy, I highly recommend it.
It's a fairly thin novel and a quick read.
If you're an animal lover, especially a dog lover, and more specifically, a beagle lover, this book is for you!
It's the story of Bea, a rescued beagle that captured this family's heart. There are tears, 'though mostly happy ones. Lots of laughs! I especially identified with their issues on brushing the dog's teeth.
After reading "M"s blog about her dog eating a stick of butter (that's what reminded me to write this review), it let's those of us that are dog owners know that WE ARE NOT ALONE with our pets issues.
If you get a chance to pick up a copy, I highly recommend it.
It's a fairly thin novel and a quick read.
Through a child's ears
I was just listening to some tunes and Credance Clearwater Revival's song "Bad Moon Rising" came on. It brought back a memory from my childhood...
The line in the song that goes: "there's a bad moon on the rise" ...
Well, way back when I was a child, I used to think they were saying, "there's a bathroom on the right".
The line in the song that goes: "there's a bad moon on the rise" ...
Well, way back when I was a child, I used to think they were saying, "there's a bathroom on the right".
Squash casserole
Per "M"s request, here is the recipe for squash casserole.
Let me just say first of all, this recipe is for baking in an oven. I just decided to experiment the other day and try it in the crockpot. So I'll give you the original version first, then afterwards tell you how I altered it.
INGREDIENTS:
1 qrt. of yellow squash, sliced thin
2 cans cream of mushroom soup (I usually use the reduced fat variety, but feel free to use whichever one you like)
1 medium onion, diced
1 Cup shredded cheddar cheese (I actually use a little more, 'cause I'm a cheese freak)
1 Cup crushed cheese crackers (again, I usually use the reduced fat variety... anything to save a few calories!)
INSTRUCTIONS:
Cook the squash until tender in large pot of boiling water. Drain water after finished cooking.
Spray the inside of a 2 qrt. baking dish with cooking spray.
Layer 1/3 of the squash in bottom of dish. Sprinkle with salt & pepper, and layer with 1/3 of the onion.
Spread 1/3 of mushroom soup over squash & onions.
Repeat the layers twice.
Top with cheddar cheese and crushed crackers.
Cook at 350 degrees for 45 -60 minutes.
Now, when I cooked it in the crockpot, I did NOT boil the squash first.
I did not put the crackers on before cooking either, as they'd have just turned to mush in the crockpot.
Cooked on low for 6-8 hours.
You now have two options... as the casserole is going to be rather runny (as opposed to how it would set-up if baked), you can either take the lid off the crockpot for last 1/2 hour or so of cooking to allow it to set-up, and then cover it with the crushed crackers,
or you can add the crackers and then set the crockpot (if it's the type that the crock is removable from the warming unit) in the oven and bake for 20 minutes.
Enjoy!
Let me just say first of all, this recipe is for baking in an oven. I just decided to experiment the other day and try it in the crockpot. So I'll give you the original version first, then afterwards tell you how I altered it.
INGREDIENTS:
1 qrt. of yellow squash, sliced thin
2 cans cream of mushroom soup (I usually use the reduced fat variety, but feel free to use whichever one you like)
1 medium onion, diced
1 Cup shredded cheddar cheese (I actually use a little more, 'cause I'm a cheese freak)
1 Cup crushed cheese crackers (again, I usually use the reduced fat variety... anything to save a few calories!)
INSTRUCTIONS:
Cook the squash until tender in large pot of boiling water. Drain water after finished cooking.
Spray the inside of a 2 qrt. baking dish with cooking spray.
Layer 1/3 of the squash in bottom of dish. Sprinkle with salt & pepper, and layer with 1/3 of the onion.
Spread 1/3 of mushroom soup over squash & onions.
Repeat the layers twice.
Top with cheddar cheese and crushed crackers.
Cook at 350 degrees for 45 -60 minutes.
Now, when I cooked it in the crockpot, I did NOT boil the squash first.
I did not put the crackers on before cooking either, as they'd have just turned to mush in the crockpot.
Cooked on low for 6-8 hours.
You now have two options... as the casserole is going to be rather runny (as opposed to how it would set-up if baked), you can either take the lid off the crockpot for last 1/2 hour or so of cooking to allow it to set-up, and then cover it with the crushed crackers,
or you can add the crackers and then set the crockpot (if it's the type that the crock is removable from the warming unit) in the oven and bake for 20 minutes.
Enjoy!
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Froggy stuff
Just thought I'd post some new pix of my froglets. They are all still doing very well. Larry seems to be going through a growth-spurt and is quickly catching up to Curly in size. Of course, they're still rather small little critters, and it's their smallness that keeps them "cute" as far as I'm concerned.
I taped a ruler to the outside of their tank so I could take these pix and give you an idea of their actual size...
This is Larry in the photo above & below. As you can see, he's about 3/4" long.
The big guy on the left is Curly, Larry is next to him. I never could catch Curly sitting any closer to the ruler to get a more accurate idea of his size.
Curly on top, Larry below.
Moe stayed hidden in their plant and I never could get a picture of him. While he's growing too, he's still much smaller than the other two.
I am delighted to report that the on-line place that I ordered crickets from last week replaced the shipment that arrived dead. They sent a new shipment, overnight, and upgraded the size of the crickets. While the crickets are still very small, Moe should have no problem eating them and I imagine will start to catch up to his "brothers" soon.
I taped a ruler to the outside of their tank so I could take these pix and give you an idea of their actual size...
This is Larry in the photo above & below. As you can see, he's about 3/4" long.
The big guy on the left is Curly, Larry is next to him. I never could catch Curly sitting any closer to the ruler to get a more accurate idea of his size.
Curly on top, Larry below.
Moe stayed hidden in their plant and I never could get a picture of him. While he's growing too, he's still much smaller than the other two.
I am delighted to report that the on-line place that I ordered crickets from last week replaced the shipment that arrived dead. They sent a new shipment, overnight, and upgraded the size of the crickets. While the crickets are still very small, Moe should have no problem eating them and I imagine will start to catch up to his "brothers" soon.
Quilting: Week 5 update
It's hard for me to believe I've already put 5 weeks into working on this quilt.
I didn't bother stretching it out to show you the whole thing, but instead, just took a picture of this completed area.
The top half that has the red/rust colored plaid is the back side of the quilt.
That narrow strip of blue/white plaid is the border I'm using to bind the front and back together.
And then there are the yarn pieces that are randomly tied on here and there. I refer to those as "grandma's special touch".
The yarn pieces actually do serve a useful purpose... it keeps the top and back layers of the quilt held together (besides where they are stitched together at the sides). But when I was a small child, I had a habit of twisting those yarn pieces back and forth between my fingers as I was trying to go to sleep. When I got a little older and carried a blankie around everywhere I went, twisting the yarn pieces became a source of comfort when I was sick or distressed. Once someone had the audacity to give me a blanket without those yarn pieces and I refused to have anything to do with that blanket.
When I went to the store to get the yarn, I had no idea how difficult it was going to be to find yarn that wasn't acrylic. I had never realized how the vast majority of yarn that is used is basically plastic. Ugh! Didn't matter how soft the yarn was, I didn't want acrylic or polyester. The flannel shirts & sheets I've used for this quilt have all been 100% cotton, except for 1 shirt which was 97%, and I used a minimal amount of that flannel. Granted, the quilting-thread hasn't been 100%, but the thread makes up such a small portion of the quilt, I was willing to let that slide. I picked up one brand after another looking at it's ingredients, acrylic, acrylic, acrylic. Argh!! I had just about given up and decided I'd have to go on-line to look when I finally found a small bin of yarn across the aisle that held very small skeins of yarn. I picked one up and was thrilled to find they were 100% cotton. Can I get a hallelujah!? The only drawback is that they were all variegated in color, so I've just made do with having a mix of color in my yarn pieces. But my goodness!, the yarn cotton is sooo much more expensive than acrylic yarn.
I was hoping to have it done by this weekend, but I'm not going to have as much time to work on it while at work this week, so I doubt I'll have it done for another couple of weeks.
I didn't bother stretching it out to show you the whole thing, but instead, just took a picture of this completed area.
The top half that has the red/rust colored plaid is the back side of the quilt.
That narrow strip of blue/white plaid is the border I'm using to bind the front and back together.
And then there are the yarn pieces that are randomly tied on here and there. I refer to those as "grandma's special touch".
The yarn pieces actually do serve a useful purpose... it keeps the top and back layers of the quilt held together (besides where they are stitched together at the sides). But when I was a small child, I had a habit of twisting those yarn pieces back and forth between my fingers as I was trying to go to sleep. When I got a little older and carried a blankie around everywhere I went, twisting the yarn pieces became a source of comfort when I was sick or distressed. Once someone had the audacity to give me a blanket without those yarn pieces and I refused to have anything to do with that blanket.
When I went to the store to get the yarn, I had no idea how difficult it was going to be to find yarn that wasn't acrylic. I had never realized how the vast majority of yarn that is used is basically plastic. Ugh! Didn't matter how soft the yarn was, I didn't want acrylic or polyester. The flannel shirts & sheets I've used for this quilt have all been 100% cotton, except for 1 shirt which was 97%, and I used a minimal amount of that flannel. Granted, the quilting-thread hasn't been 100%, but the thread makes up such a small portion of the quilt, I was willing to let that slide. I picked up one brand after another looking at it's ingredients, acrylic, acrylic, acrylic. Argh!! I had just about given up and decided I'd have to go on-line to look when I finally found a small bin of yarn across the aisle that held very small skeins of yarn. I picked one up and was thrilled to find they were 100% cotton. Can I get a hallelujah!? The only drawback is that they were all variegated in color, so I've just made do with having a mix of color in my yarn pieces. But my goodness!, the yarn cotton is sooo much more expensive than acrylic yarn.
I was hoping to have it done by this weekend, but I'm not going to have as much time to work on it while at work this week, so I doubt I'll have it done for another couple of weeks.
Crockpot challenge
Day 24) Nov. 8th - squash casserole
Day 25) Nov. 9th - enchilada casserole
Day 26) Nov. 10th - nadda.
Day 27) Nov. 11th - BBQ spare ribs
Day 25) Nov. 9th - enchilada casserole
Day 26) Nov. 10th - nadda.
Day 27) Nov. 11th - BBQ spare ribs
Monday, November 10, 2008
If I stare at it long enough...
My girls have both brought me smiles this weekend. Well, actually all my k-9 kids bring me smiles all the time. But they (the girls) both did something that made me smile a little more.
At one point Saturday evening, I was standing at the kitchen sink and I was aware Olivia had followed me to the kitchen (no surprise, that's what she always does). But instead of being underfoot and getting in the way like she normally does, she was standing next to the Big Dog Feeder which holds two bowls, staring very hard at it. I watched her for a moment and noticed she just continued to stare intently at it. I then realized that both bowls were empty of water, and she was "willing" the water to magically appear. This is one of her frequent lines of thought: if I stare at "it" (whatever "it" may be) long enough, it will become mine. Her little trick works as far as she's concerned, because I made that water appear for her.
Later that evening, I was again at the kitchen sink and Bootsy had come into the kitchen to get a drink. Sometime in between me filling the bowls for Olivia and Bootsy coming in for a drink, Eliott had also enjoyed a refreshing drink of water, and left nothing but a 1/2" of thick slimy doggy drool in one bowl, and the other one was just a foamy sloppy mess. Both looked revolting, but that's the hazards of having a drooling dog slopping in the water.
Bootsy is very particular about her drinking water. Unless she's just been outside, running and playing very hard and is VERY thirsty, then she typically refuses to drink after Eliott (can you blame her?).
I finally became aware of Bootsy just standing there, much as Olivia had. I turned to watch her and she'd look first at one bowl, then the other, then look up at me, then back at each bowl. Repeating this sequence a few times 'til I couldn't contain my laughter anymore. She was silently pleading with me to freshen up the water.
My girls and their puppy dog eyes!
At one point Saturday evening, I was standing at the kitchen sink and I was aware Olivia had followed me to the kitchen (no surprise, that's what she always does). But instead of being underfoot and getting in the way like she normally does, she was standing next to the Big Dog Feeder which holds two bowls, staring very hard at it. I watched her for a moment and noticed she just continued to stare intently at it. I then realized that both bowls were empty of water, and she was "willing" the water to magically appear. This is one of her frequent lines of thought: if I stare at "it" (whatever "it" may be) long enough, it will become mine. Her little trick works as far as she's concerned, because I made that water appear for her.
Later that evening, I was again at the kitchen sink and Bootsy had come into the kitchen to get a drink. Sometime in between me filling the bowls for Olivia and Bootsy coming in for a drink, Eliott had also enjoyed a refreshing drink of water, and left nothing but a 1/2" of thick slimy doggy drool in one bowl, and the other one was just a foamy sloppy mess. Both looked revolting, but that's the hazards of having a drooling dog slopping in the water.
Bootsy is very particular about her drinking water. Unless she's just been outside, running and playing very hard and is VERY thirsty, then she typically refuses to drink after Eliott (can you blame her?).
I finally became aware of Bootsy just standing there, much as Olivia had. I turned to watch her and she'd look first at one bowl, then the other, then look up at me, then back at each bowl. Repeating this sequence a few times 'til I couldn't contain my laughter anymore. She was silently pleading with me to freshen up the water.
My girls and their puppy dog eyes!
Hanging up & other phone ettiquette
As I do umpteen times a day, I answered the phone a while ago.
The caller, who did not identify herself, simply asked me for our fax number.
Whenever anyone calls that I don't know and asks for our fax, I in turn ask "may I ask what this is in reference to?"
I do this because there are a lot of companies out there too cheap to pay for postage or advertising, and would rather just waste our paper and toner by faxing their advertisements out. It annoys us. Not just me, all of us. Whenever we get these types of faxes, they go straight into the garbage can, and are not even considered for use as a vendor.
So when I asked the caller this, I was simply wanting to know if it was business related, something personal that perhaps one of the employees was expecting, or just a "sales call".
The caller replied, "it's for the manager" (actually, she used his name, but I'll leave his name out of it).
Not getting the kind of answer I was looking for, as this could still be nothing more than an unsolicited sales call, I asked, "is it business related?"
Now my caller took on a bit of a smart-ass tone to her voice when she replied, "Uh, no, it's not. It's for the manager." She hesitated then asked, "does he have his own personal fax?"
I was starting to get a bit annoyed with her, and truly, you could just hear the sarcasm and smarminess in her voice. I really wished I could just smack her.
I was beyond tired of our conversation, and as it wasn't worth getting into an argument or taking her down a notch, I just gave in with a sigh, and gave her the fax number. She thanked me and we hung up.
I moment later the phone rang again, again I answered it.
It was the same caller. "Did you just hang up on me!?"
Me: Excuse me?
Caller: I just called you, and I think you hung up on me.
Me: Didn't we end our conversation?
Caller: I thanked you for the fax number and said good-bye. The other person usually says bye also.
Me: Okay, good-bye.
It was her turn to hang up on me. Not that I cared. But when the boss returned from his errands I told him he'd most likely be getting a fax or phone call complaining about me having hung up on them.
Honestly, if I received the same call from her again, I'd hang up on her again.
Yeah, yeah, I know, I was rude. But honestly, if you'd been privy to the conversation and tone of her voice, you'd have probably done the same. I don't have to listen to people smarting off to me.
The caller, who did not identify herself, simply asked me for our fax number.
Whenever anyone calls that I don't know and asks for our fax, I in turn ask "may I ask what this is in reference to?"
I do this because there are a lot of companies out there too cheap to pay for postage or advertising, and would rather just waste our paper and toner by faxing their advertisements out. It annoys us. Not just me, all of us. Whenever we get these types of faxes, they go straight into the garbage can, and are not even considered for use as a vendor.
So when I asked the caller this, I was simply wanting to know if it was business related, something personal that perhaps one of the employees was expecting, or just a "sales call".
The caller replied, "it's for the manager" (actually, she used his name, but I'll leave his name out of it).
Not getting the kind of answer I was looking for, as this could still be nothing more than an unsolicited sales call, I asked, "is it business related?"
Now my caller took on a bit of a smart-ass tone to her voice when she replied, "Uh, no, it's not. It's for the manager." She hesitated then asked, "does he have his own personal fax?"
I was starting to get a bit annoyed with her, and truly, you could just hear the sarcasm and smarminess in her voice. I really wished I could just smack her.
I was beyond tired of our conversation, and as it wasn't worth getting into an argument or taking her down a notch, I just gave in with a sigh, and gave her the fax number. She thanked me and we hung up.
I moment later the phone rang again, again I answered it.
It was the same caller. "Did you just hang up on me!?"
Me: Excuse me?
Caller: I just called you, and I think you hung up on me.
Me: Didn't we end our conversation?
Caller: I thanked you for the fax number and said good-bye. The other person usually says bye also.
Me: Okay, good-bye.
It was her turn to hang up on me. Not that I cared. But when the boss returned from his errands I told him he'd most likely be getting a fax or phone call complaining about me having hung up on them.
Honestly, if I received the same call from her again, I'd hang up on her again.
Yeah, yeah, I know, I was rude. But honestly, if you'd been privy to the conversation and tone of her voice, you'd have probably done the same. I don't have to listen to people smarting off to me.
Friday, November 07, 2008
D.O.A. (dead on arrival)
With the weather turning colder, it's been increasingly difficult to find small insects (mostly ants) to feed my froglets. The local pet store sells crickets, but even their smallest crickets are too large for all but Curly to eat, and even he has to tackle them and wear them down before eating them.
So I went on-line the other day and ordered 250 crickets, 1/8" in length. Super tiny they are, so I knew they'd be no problem for any of my little stooges to eat. I signed up for "guaranteed live delivery", which simply meant I had to have them shipped to an address where there would be somebody available to sign for them, therefore I had them shipped to my office.
All day long I've been anxiously awaiting their arrival. I was disappointed when the DHL & UPS drivers brought us packages, but neither had my crickets. Finally Fedex showed up at 3:30 and I practically ran downstairs and met the driver on the front steps. I signed for them and hurried back upstairs to open the outer shipping container.
Needless to say, I was extremely disappointed to find that every single one of my mini-crickets was dead. Dead on arrival they were!
I shook the container and held it up to the light looking for some signs of life. Nothing. Nadda, zip, zilch. They were all dead. Frogs won't eat dead bugs. Honestly, I fully expected to find a few had died in transit, but come on!, ALL OF THEM????
I wasted no time in firing off a complaint to the company I'd ordered them from. They darned well better make things right, whether by replacing the bugs or refunding my money in full, including shipping. Of course if they choose to replace them, then that means I'm going to have to wait 'til sometime next week to get them. I'm very aggravated to say the least. Grrr!!!!
So I went on-line the other day and ordered 250 crickets, 1/8" in length. Super tiny they are, so I knew they'd be no problem for any of my little stooges to eat. I signed up for "guaranteed live delivery", which simply meant I had to have them shipped to an address where there would be somebody available to sign for them, therefore I had them shipped to my office.
All day long I've been anxiously awaiting their arrival. I was disappointed when the DHL & UPS drivers brought us packages, but neither had my crickets. Finally Fedex showed up at 3:30 and I practically ran downstairs and met the driver on the front steps. I signed for them and hurried back upstairs to open the outer shipping container.
Needless to say, I was extremely disappointed to find that every single one of my mini-crickets was dead. Dead on arrival they were!
I shook the container and held it up to the light looking for some signs of life. Nothing. Nadda, zip, zilch. They were all dead. Frogs won't eat dead bugs. Honestly, I fully expected to find a few had died in transit, but come on!, ALL OF THEM????
I wasted no time in firing off a complaint to the company I'd ordered them from. They darned well better make things right, whether by replacing the bugs or refunding my money in full, including shipping. Of course if they choose to replace them, then that means I'm going to have to wait 'til sometime next week to get them. I'm very aggravated to say the least. Grrr!!!!
Rare form!
I've been in rare form today. Cussing like a drunken sailor, stomping around and tossing things across my desk. I had to get my frustrations taken out before the family arrived this afternoon for visitation.
At least my outspoken outrage has amused my boss, as he said, "know what I love about you?... you're so outspoken."
Why the anger you ask?
Long story short...
Apparently one of our vendors changed the way we submit rebates back in late 2006, but neglected to tell the overwhelming majority of the funeral homes around these United States. So I've been having to go back through all our records for the past 2 years, actually I went back for 3 years... just in case. Then I had to fill out these stupid forms and send them in. As if that wasn't bad enough, our corporate office actually wants us to go back through all our records dating all the way back to 1993. THAT'S what has really ticked me off! I'm sorry, but I refuse. I told the boss I'd hand in my resignation right now if they insisted. I'll be darned if I was going back that far.
I was compliant from the day I started here in Feb. 2003, and have been compliant to the best of my knowledge ever since. Not my fault they changed the rules and didn't tell most of us. Seriously, out of several hundred funeral homes across the country, only a small fraction knew about this. For that matter, our corporate office didn't know anything about it 'til just recently, so I know it wasn't just me!!
Knowing that I've done my work correctly (as far as I knew), I was only willing to go back to just prior to that vendor having changed the rules. But I simply refuse to go back and make sure the girl I replaced was doing her job properly.
It took up enough of my hours today looking this stuff up. My heart is breaking for some of the really busy locations around the country (and by busy I mean they have 25 - 100 funerals a month (vs. per year at some locations). Those office workers have a whole lot of crap to go back and look up, even if they only go back a couple of years as well.
Okay, 'nuff of my griping.
At least my outspoken outrage has amused my boss, as he said, "know what I love about you?... you're so outspoken."
Why the anger you ask?
Long story short...
Apparently one of our vendors changed the way we submit rebates back in late 2006, but neglected to tell the overwhelming majority of the funeral homes around these United States. So I've been having to go back through all our records for the past 2 years, actually I went back for 3 years... just in case. Then I had to fill out these stupid forms and send them in. As if that wasn't bad enough, our corporate office actually wants us to go back through all our records dating all the way back to 1993. THAT'S what has really ticked me off! I'm sorry, but I refuse. I told the boss I'd hand in my resignation right now if they insisted. I'll be darned if I was going back that far.
I was compliant from the day I started here in Feb. 2003, and have been compliant to the best of my knowledge ever since. Not my fault they changed the rules and didn't tell most of us. Seriously, out of several hundred funeral homes across the country, only a small fraction knew about this. For that matter, our corporate office didn't know anything about it 'til just recently, so I know it wasn't just me!!
Knowing that I've done my work correctly (as far as I knew), I was only willing to go back to just prior to that vendor having changed the rules. But I simply refuse to go back and make sure the girl I replaced was doing her job properly.
It took up enough of my hours today looking this stuff up. My heart is breaking for some of the really busy locations around the country (and by busy I mean they have 25 - 100 funerals a month (vs. per year at some locations). Those office workers have a whole lot of crap to go back and look up, even if they only go back a couple of years as well.
Okay, 'nuff of my griping.
Crockpot challenge
Day 22) Nov. 6th - nadda once again. In my defense though, I was running late from having hit the snooze alarm from that horid nightmare, and didn't have time to throw anything in the crockpot.
Day 23) Nov. 7th - a tomato concoction. I'm hoping for salsa, but it may turn out to be a spaghetti sauce. Then again, it may end up being tomato soup or juice. I took the dozens of grape tomatoes I had recently taken off our vines (yes, it's November and we're still harvesting fresh tomatoes!), tossed them in the crockpot with some diced onion and tossed in a few spices. We'll see what happens...
Day 23) Nov. 7th - a tomato concoction. I'm hoping for salsa, but it may turn out to be a spaghetti sauce. Then again, it may end up being tomato soup or juice. I took the dozens of grape tomatoes I had recently taken off our vines (yes, it's November and we're still harvesting fresh tomatoes!), tossed them in the crockpot with some diced onion and tossed in a few spices. We'll see what happens...
Friday photo challenge - Sunday
It didn't scan very well, and you may have to click on it in order to actually read it, but here's a look at my typical Sundays.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Playing games
I love to play games. Not necessarily all games, but a lot of games.
There are your puzzles such as fill-ins (sorry, I've never been any good at crosswords), sudoku, futoshiki, seek n finds.
Jigsaw puzzles I love! But a lack of space to work on them without the dogs eating the pieces when I'm not looking, curtails that activity quite a bit.
Yahtzee, Uno, other card games. Those too. Waaay back in the day, before a couple of our friends divorced (and re-married others and divorced again), we used to get together practically every single weekend to play cards. Those were the good ol' days!!
Board games... love 'em!!
I can remember when growing up, my parents often played board games with us, and then often times they'd get together with their adult-friends for game-night. They usually played Scrabble, Uno or Pit. I can remember how great it was when I was finally old enough to start playing Uno with the adults and allowed to stay up late.
From time to time when my family gets together, we'll still drag out a game and play. Aggravation was always a family favorite. About three years ago, my mother had mentioned how much she missed playing that game. The newer version with it's plastic marbles just isn't the same as the original. So I made it my mission after that to find an original Aggravation board on ebay and purchase it for her for Christmas. She was thrilled with it!
Whenever John & I go camping, we always pack along the playing cards, dominoes, small jigsaw puzzles, yahtzee, checkers, Chinese-checkers, pente and before I misplaced it, the Battleship game.
We've got a closet full of board games, and yet, anymore, they seem to just sit there and collect dust. And still I find myself from time to time purchasing yet another new game, in hopes we'll one day get the opportunity to play it.
My husband's family loves to play games as well. However, I don't like playing with them for the simple fact that they like to make up their own rules instead of following the games rules. What's the point? His family has a tendency to shout out answers, regardless of whether it's their turn or not, and honestly, after a while it just takes away from the fun of the game, at least, for me it does (guess that's my stickler-for-the-rules pet-peeve). And they think nothing of cheating because after all, it's just a game. Again for me, this takes away from the fun of the game.
For me, the one good thing about this time year, "that time" being the couple of months leading up to Christmas, is that's when so many of the new games are introduced. I've been seeing a couple of them advertised of late that I'd love to get...
Partini and Seinfeld-Scene It.
I was looking on-line at some games, and came across one called Eat It. Looks like it could be fun as well.
Have any of you ever played Partini or Eat It, and if so, have any opinions of the games? Would it be a waste of time and money, or a good time to be had by all?
There are your puzzles such as fill-ins (sorry, I've never been any good at crosswords), sudoku, futoshiki, seek n finds.
Jigsaw puzzles I love! But a lack of space to work on them without the dogs eating the pieces when I'm not looking, curtails that activity quite a bit.
Yahtzee, Uno, other card games. Those too. Waaay back in the day, before a couple of our friends divorced (and re-married others and divorced again), we used to get together practically every single weekend to play cards. Those were the good ol' days!!
Board games... love 'em!!
I can remember when growing up, my parents often played board games with us, and then often times they'd get together with their adult-friends for game-night. They usually played Scrabble, Uno or Pit. I can remember how great it was when I was finally old enough to start playing Uno with the adults and allowed to stay up late.
From time to time when my family gets together, we'll still drag out a game and play. Aggravation was always a family favorite. About three years ago, my mother had mentioned how much she missed playing that game. The newer version with it's plastic marbles just isn't the same as the original. So I made it my mission after that to find an original Aggravation board on ebay and purchase it for her for Christmas. She was thrilled with it!
Whenever John & I go camping, we always pack along the playing cards, dominoes, small jigsaw puzzles, yahtzee, checkers, Chinese-checkers, pente and before I misplaced it, the Battleship game.
We've got a closet full of board games, and yet, anymore, they seem to just sit there and collect dust. And still I find myself from time to time purchasing yet another new game, in hopes we'll one day get the opportunity to play it.
My husband's family loves to play games as well. However, I don't like playing with them for the simple fact that they like to make up their own rules instead of following the games rules. What's the point? His family has a tendency to shout out answers, regardless of whether it's their turn or not, and honestly, after a while it just takes away from the fun of the game, at least, for me it does (guess that's my stickler-for-the-rules pet-peeve). And they think nothing of cheating because after all, it's just a game. Again for me, this takes away from the fun of the game.
For me, the one good thing about this time year, "that time" being the couple of months leading up to Christmas, is that's when so many of the new games are introduced. I've been seeing a couple of them advertised of late that I'd love to get...
Partini and Seinfeld-Scene It.
I was looking on-line at some games, and came across one called Eat It. Looks like it could be fun as well.
Have any of you ever played Partini or Eat It, and if so, have any opinions of the games? Would it be a waste of time and money, or a good time to be had by all?
When we sleep
When is a dream just a dream? When does it officially cross the line and become a nightmare? If it's just a little scary, is it then just a bad dream instead of being a nightmare?
The definition of nightmare in the dictionary reads as follows: A dream arousing feelings of intense, inescapable fear, horror, and distress.
Going by that definition, I think the dream I had this morning more than qualifies as a nightmare.
There were no scary monsters, no evil persons trying to do me harm (at least, I never saw any other persons in my dream), nothing horrible had happened to one of my fur-babies, husband, or other loved-ones. We hadn't lost our home or our jobs. Despite nothing terrible having happened, I was never so relieved to have an alarm clock wake me up as I was this morning. And yet, I did something I very rarely ever do, I hit the snooze. Not because I wanted to go back to sleep and see how the dream ended. No. It was because my heart was racing so fast, and I almost felt as if I couldn't catch my breath. I felt so paralyzed with fear, that I didn't feel I could get out of bed. I hit that snooze and just curled up in a ball and huddled under the covers, trying to grasp that I was now awake and there was nothing to worry about.
So what was this dream you ask?
I dreamt that it was time to get up, so I did. The house I was living in wasn't the house we currently live in, but rather the first house my husband and I bought... the only difference was that the backdoor was located off of the kitchen and was a normal door instead of a sliding glass door. So in the dream, I got out of bed and I heard a noise in the backyard. It was Eliott, my beloved fawn, running around the yard and across the deck. "Odd" I thought to myself, "what's he doing outside? Am I losing my mind and forget to let him back in before going to bed?" I went downstairs to find the backdoor was open. Evidently I (or someone else) had let Eliott out and not bothered closing the door. Both of my girls were in the house, stirring about in the living room. I looked toward the frontdoor and it was standing wide open. At that moment, I got such a feeling of panic, as I just knew somebody had come into the house while I slept, leaving the doors open and letting my giant male dog outside. Was this unseen person still in the house?? Was I safe? Should I leave the house quickly or shut and lock the doors, possibly locking the unseen inside with me? Of course, for all I knew I could've been walking in my sleep and left the doors open myself.
That was the moment the alarm clock went off, waking me. But the sense of panic and fear was so overwhelming from the nightmare, that it carried over into reality, taking several moments to finally subside.
I think sometimes our dreams(nightmares) are a culmination of several bad things that have happened to us coming together, or an outlet for our subconscious to express our hidden fears. And then again, I'm a firm believer in "visions", or rather, a hint of things to come. I've had such things happen to me all too often to not be a believer.
I'm not sure what this dream was all about, but I certainly hope it isn't one of my visions.
The definition of nightmare in the dictionary reads as follows: A dream arousing feelings of intense, inescapable fear, horror, and distress.
Going by that definition, I think the dream I had this morning more than qualifies as a nightmare.
There were no scary monsters, no evil persons trying to do me harm (at least, I never saw any other persons in my dream), nothing horrible had happened to one of my fur-babies, husband, or other loved-ones. We hadn't lost our home or our jobs. Despite nothing terrible having happened, I was never so relieved to have an alarm clock wake me up as I was this morning. And yet, I did something I very rarely ever do, I hit the snooze. Not because I wanted to go back to sleep and see how the dream ended. No. It was because my heart was racing so fast, and I almost felt as if I couldn't catch my breath. I felt so paralyzed with fear, that I didn't feel I could get out of bed. I hit that snooze and just curled up in a ball and huddled under the covers, trying to grasp that I was now awake and there was nothing to worry about.
So what was this dream you ask?
I dreamt that it was time to get up, so I did. The house I was living in wasn't the house we currently live in, but rather the first house my husband and I bought... the only difference was that the backdoor was located off of the kitchen and was a normal door instead of a sliding glass door. So in the dream, I got out of bed and I heard a noise in the backyard. It was Eliott, my beloved fawn, running around the yard and across the deck. "Odd" I thought to myself, "what's he doing outside? Am I losing my mind and forget to let him back in before going to bed?" I went downstairs to find the backdoor was open. Evidently I (or someone else) had let Eliott out and not bothered closing the door. Both of my girls were in the house, stirring about in the living room. I looked toward the frontdoor and it was standing wide open. At that moment, I got such a feeling of panic, as I just knew somebody had come into the house while I slept, leaving the doors open and letting my giant male dog outside. Was this unseen person still in the house?? Was I safe? Should I leave the house quickly or shut and lock the doors, possibly locking the unseen inside with me? Of course, for all I knew I could've been walking in my sleep and left the doors open myself.
That was the moment the alarm clock went off, waking me. But the sense of panic and fear was so overwhelming from the nightmare, that it carried over into reality, taking several moments to finally subside.
I think sometimes our dreams(nightmares) are a culmination of several bad things that have happened to us coming together, or an outlet for our subconscious to express our hidden fears. And then again, I'm a firm believer in "visions", or rather, a hint of things to come. I've had such things happen to me all too often to not be a believer.
I'm not sure what this dream was all about, but I certainly hope it isn't one of my visions.
Indigo Daisy, if you're reading this...!
Indigo Daisy, if you're reading this, there is some sort of problem with your blogsite.
I've tried repeatedly over the past several weeks to check in on your site, but am forever getting an error message. Your site comes up, but then the message pops up and immediately closes down your site.
I know I'm not the only one having these problems.
So don't feel as if everybody has stopped reading your blogs, we just can't get to them!
I've tried repeatedly over the past several weeks to check in on your site, but am forever getting an error message. Your site comes up, but then the message pops up and immediately closes down your site.
I know I'm not the only one having these problems.
So don't feel as if everybody has stopped reading your blogs, we just can't get to them!
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Calender girls & guy
There was an article in todays neighborhood section of the newspaper, and as if the photo weren't enought to catch my eye (a nearly naked senior citizen), the article's title truly drew me in "Bare to care" (a play on words, taken from the Dare to Care foodbank).
I say she was "nearly naked", as she wearing a pair of shoes, her eye-glasses, some jewelry, and a quilt.
After reading the article, I was smiling and nodding my approval. I may just have to pick up a copy of the calender, I do after all, love a good quilt. ;)
To read the whole article, click on the link...
Crockpot challenge
Day 20) Nov. 4th - green beans w/ new potatoes. The ONLY way to fix green beans and have them be edible, with lots of either bacon grease or some ham cooked up in it. I know, I know, nutritionist everywhere are grabbing their hearts, but seriously folks, southern-style is the BEST!
Day 21) Nov. 5th - nadda. All my large crockpots are either dirty or else in the fridge w/left-overs in them. Seriously.
Day 21) Nov. 5th - nadda. All my large crockpots are either dirty or else in the fridge w/left-overs in them. Seriously.
Change is in the air
Indeed, change is in the air, and I'm not talking politics.
The children that I've watched grow up in our neighborhood since they were toddlers are now teenagers, and the atmosphere around our area has changed of late, and not for the better.
When I came home from work yesterday, I turned the corner and came upon three teeny-boppers sitting in the street... I mean LITERALLY sitting in the street. I had to yank on my steering wheel and cut my turn sharp to keep from hitting them, as they were sitting on the side of the street I needed to be driving on.
I went inside, let the big dogs out back to run and put Livvie's leash on her to take her out front. After she'd pottied, I walked over to where the girls still sat and said, "Girls, it's really not a good idea to be sitting in the street. Somebody could turn that corner that's talking on a cell phone or just not paying any attention, and hit you."
One little smart-mouth said, "It's a science project."
Me: What, sitting in the street is a science project?
Teen: No. We're supposed to walk up and down the street.
I'm assuming they were timing each other as one teen held a big clock in her lap.
Me: You can still walk up and down the street without sitting there. It's not very good to be sitting in the street.
Obviously my advice fell on deaf (or rather, indifferent) ears, as they just continued to sit there.
I mean, seriously, all they had to do was move 5-feet over and either sit on my lawn or on the sidewalk. I continued to walk Olivia and saw other residents pass by them (residents that have a parental status), and none seemed bothered by the kids sitting there. And obviously none of the girls parents seemed to mind their children playing in traffic. I'm one of only two non-parent households on our street, yet I seemed to be the only one that was concerned. Why is that?
There are other young teens in our neighborhood that have recently started to discover the art of causing trouble, uneasiness among adults, and how to be disruptive. There is one boy that several of the other kids follow around like he's the Pied-Piper for reasons I can't quite figure out. There is one girl that until recently I've always liked, as she was quiet and unassuming, keeping to herself. But lately, she's started following this boy around (and he's not at all cute... but extremely overweight, in need of a haircut, and foul-mouthed) and a couple of other trouble-makers, and it upsets me to see her getting in with a bad crowd. No good will come of it.
This is the first time in the nearly 15 years we've lived in our house, that I sincerely and truly would like to start looking for another place to live. Someplace preferrably out in the country, away from subdivision life.
The children that I've watched grow up in our neighborhood since they were toddlers are now teenagers, and the atmosphere around our area has changed of late, and not for the better.
When I came home from work yesterday, I turned the corner and came upon three teeny-boppers sitting in the street... I mean LITERALLY sitting in the street. I had to yank on my steering wheel and cut my turn sharp to keep from hitting them, as they were sitting on the side of the street I needed to be driving on.
I went inside, let the big dogs out back to run and put Livvie's leash on her to take her out front. After she'd pottied, I walked over to where the girls still sat and said, "Girls, it's really not a good idea to be sitting in the street. Somebody could turn that corner that's talking on a cell phone or just not paying any attention, and hit you."
One little smart-mouth said, "It's a science project."
Me: What, sitting in the street is a science project?
Teen: No. We're supposed to walk up and down the street.
I'm assuming they were timing each other as one teen held a big clock in her lap.
Me: You can still walk up and down the street without sitting there. It's not very good to be sitting in the street.
Obviously my advice fell on deaf (or rather, indifferent) ears, as they just continued to sit there.
I mean, seriously, all they had to do was move 5-feet over and either sit on my lawn or on the sidewalk. I continued to walk Olivia and saw other residents pass by them (residents that have a parental status), and none seemed bothered by the kids sitting there. And obviously none of the girls parents seemed to mind their children playing in traffic. I'm one of only two non-parent households on our street, yet I seemed to be the only one that was concerned. Why is that?
There are other young teens in our neighborhood that have recently started to discover the art of causing trouble, uneasiness among adults, and how to be disruptive. There is one boy that several of the other kids follow around like he's the Pied-Piper for reasons I can't quite figure out. There is one girl that until recently I've always liked, as she was quiet and unassuming, keeping to herself. But lately, she's started following this boy around (and he's not at all cute... but extremely overweight, in need of a haircut, and foul-mouthed) and a couple of other trouble-makers, and it upsets me to see her getting in with a bad crowd. No good will come of it.
This is the first time in the nearly 15 years we've lived in our house, that I sincerely and truly would like to start looking for another place to live. Someplace preferrably out in the country, away from subdivision life.
Applause!
I generally try to stay away from discussing politics and religion in my blog. But hey, our country just elected a new president, so I think it's okay for me to break away from my own rule for just a moment.
Normally, politics bore me too tears. I've soooo wanted this election to be over for such a long time. I get tired of all the ads on tv & radio, the signs in yards and along the roadways, the ludicrous amount of money that is spent on these elections just astounds me, especially when you consider all the people starving or are without medical care or are homeless.
In past years, I've not really had strong feelings one way or another, 'cept that in 2004, the only thing I had against Kerry was his wife... I just didn't like the woman. Also in past years, I've not been one to sit and watch the tv for updates on the polls as they closed. I'd tend to watch anything but a channel that reported the news.
Last night though, I admit, I kept flipping back and forth for updates. I knew who I hoped would win, but nothing is a sure thing. We stayed up a little later than usual last night, and when we finally turned out the lights to go to bed, Obama was leading 207 to 141 in electoral votes.
I fell asleep shortly thereafter, not knowing if he maintained his momentum.
When the alarm went off at 3:30 this morning, without hesitation I grabbed the tv remote to turn on the news and find out who our next president would be. When I saw that Obama had beat McCain by 2 to 1, I sat up in bed and applauded. Yes, I applauded. Can't say as I've ever done that before where politics are concerned.
As I sat listening to the recap of his acceptance speech, I got a little misty-eyed. When he talked about the love of his life (his wife) and his daughters and how they'd earned their new puppy, I smiled.
After packing the husband's lunch and fixing his breakfast, I went out on the front porch at 4 in the morning and took down the seasonal banner I had hanging, and hung out our American flag. Normally I only hang this at Memorial Day & 4th of July. But I thought this event called for it as well.
Why Obama? Why not? I have no illusions that he'll fix this country in the next 4 years. I don't know if anybody could fix the mess this country has become in that amount of time. But the man is the embodiment of hope and change, and those are two things this country sorely needs.
I've nothing against McCain, but I just don't think he offered either of those things to the American citizens.
I had a recent discussion with someone who shall remain nameless, but the conversation we had left me very sad, and a little embarrassed that this person knew so little.
Me: why are you against Obama?
Other: well, at least McCain has been a Senator.
Me: and exactly what do you call Senator Obama?
Me: why do you think McCain is the better choice?
Other: well, I just don't want a black man for a president.
Me: **I was speechless for a moment, to say the least** I finally picked my jaw up off the ground and said: I can't believe you just said that. You of all people, you're the last person I ever thought would think like that. And besides, the man is bi-racial. In other words, he's as much white as he is black.
This other person couldn't give me one good reason they thought McCain was a better choice. Just some ignorant, uninformed opinions.
Okay, I've put my 2-cents worth in on the subject. Now back to regular blogging.
Normally, politics bore me too tears. I've soooo wanted this election to be over for such a long time. I get tired of all the ads on tv & radio, the signs in yards and along the roadways, the ludicrous amount of money that is spent on these elections just astounds me, especially when you consider all the people starving or are without medical care or are homeless.
In past years, I've not really had strong feelings one way or another, 'cept that in 2004, the only thing I had against Kerry was his wife... I just didn't like the woman. Also in past years, I've not been one to sit and watch the tv for updates on the polls as they closed. I'd tend to watch anything but a channel that reported the news.
Last night though, I admit, I kept flipping back and forth for updates. I knew who I hoped would win, but nothing is a sure thing. We stayed up a little later than usual last night, and when we finally turned out the lights to go to bed, Obama was leading 207 to 141 in electoral votes.
I fell asleep shortly thereafter, not knowing if he maintained his momentum.
When the alarm went off at 3:30 this morning, without hesitation I grabbed the tv remote to turn on the news and find out who our next president would be. When I saw that Obama had beat McCain by 2 to 1, I sat up in bed and applauded. Yes, I applauded. Can't say as I've ever done that before where politics are concerned.
As I sat listening to the recap of his acceptance speech, I got a little misty-eyed. When he talked about the love of his life (his wife) and his daughters and how they'd earned their new puppy, I smiled.
After packing the husband's lunch and fixing his breakfast, I went out on the front porch at 4 in the morning and took down the seasonal banner I had hanging, and hung out our American flag. Normally I only hang this at Memorial Day & 4th of July. But I thought this event called for it as well.
Why Obama? Why not? I have no illusions that he'll fix this country in the next 4 years. I don't know if anybody could fix the mess this country has become in that amount of time. But the man is the embodiment of hope and change, and those are two things this country sorely needs.
I've nothing against McCain, but I just don't think he offered either of those things to the American citizens.
I had a recent discussion with someone who shall remain nameless, but the conversation we had left me very sad, and a little embarrassed that this person knew so little.
Me: why are you against Obama?
Other: well, at least McCain has been a Senator.
Me: and exactly what do you call Senator Obama?
Me: why do you think McCain is the better choice?
Other: well, I just don't want a black man for a president.
Me: **I was speechless for a moment, to say the least** I finally picked my jaw up off the ground and said: I can't believe you just said that. You of all people, you're the last person I ever thought would think like that. And besides, the man is bi-racial. In other words, he's as much white as he is black.
This other person couldn't give me one good reason they thought McCain was a better choice. Just some ignorant, uninformed opinions.
Okay, I've put my 2-cents worth in on the subject. Now back to regular blogging.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Thief!
**sigh**
I've no one to blame but myself for the item(s) that have been stolen from our home. I know better than to leave things lying about, tempting would-be robbers. I make things too easy for the criminal(s).
I got home from the grocery last night and as I carried the first load of grocery bags into the kitchen, I noticed there were a couple of grape-tomatoes lying on the floor.
"That's odd" I thought, "wonder how those got down there?"
They had been lying on the counter, and I thought perhaps in my haste to leave, I'd knocked them off, or perhaps they'd been sitting too close to the edge and one of the dogs had knocked them off. I picked them up and didn't give them another thought. Until this morning that is...
I was just finishing packing the husband's lunch and he came into the kitchen looking for his breakfast. I hadn't had a chance to heat anything up for him yet, so he took out a bowl of left-over gravy from the fridge to heat up. Next he picked up a container that had some left-over crescent rolls in it and was going to use those to put the gravy over. I said, "why don't you use the left-over biscuits? They're right over here." And with that, I reached for the area I'd last seen the bag of biscuits. They weren't there. I moved some items aside and looked more intently. Nothing, nadda. The biscuits were gone. I furrowed my brow for a moment, "Had I eaten them and forgot? Or tossed them out?"
Then a light went off in my head as I remembered the tomatoes I'd seen on the floor.
"Olivia!!!"
It was pointless to yell out her name, #1) because she was standing right beside me, hoping some crumb of food would come her way, and #2) well, because she's deaf and can't hear me anyway.
I turned and looked at her, but she'd now presented her back to me and was facing John, watching him carefully remove the bowl of gravy from the microwave. I'm sure she was hoping he'd trip over her and spill the gravy on the floor.
Arghhh!
"Okay kid, I know it was you, it's always you! Where's the evidence? Did you eat the plastic bag so there wouldn't be any evidence?"
Other than the two small tomatoes on the floor, I hadn't seen any signs of her thievery the night before. No trail of crumbs or torn, chewed up plastic bag pieces. This dog was getting good at hiding her crimes.
I marched to her crate and pulled aside her big quilt. Sure enough, waaaay in the back of her crate was the empty plastic bag. She'd buried the evidence.
I marched back to the kitchen and shook the bag at her, but she barely glanced at me, still so focused on John's breakfast. The little wench!
Okay, I guess it was my fault, I should know better than to leave any food items (even if they are in a bag) any place where she can get it, and I should certainly know better than to leave her out of the crate when we aren't home. But darn it!, after she's spent all freaking day in there, I just can't stand putting her back in so soon after letting her out.
**sigh**
I'm either going to have to harden my resolve to crate her when we're not there, or just resign myself to the fact that she's going to continue to be a thief when our backs are turned.
I've no one to blame but myself for the item(s) that have been stolen from our home. I know better than to leave things lying about, tempting would-be robbers. I make things too easy for the criminal(s).
I got home from the grocery last night and as I carried the first load of grocery bags into the kitchen, I noticed there were a couple of grape-tomatoes lying on the floor.
"That's odd" I thought, "wonder how those got down there?"
They had been lying on the counter, and I thought perhaps in my haste to leave, I'd knocked them off, or perhaps they'd been sitting too close to the edge and one of the dogs had knocked them off. I picked them up and didn't give them another thought. Until this morning that is...
I was just finishing packing the husband's lunch and he came into the kitchen looking for his breakfast. I hadn't had a chance to heat anything up for him yet, so he took out a bowl of left-over gravy from the fridge to heat up. Next he picked up a container that had some left-over crescent rolls in it and was going to use those to put the gravy over. I said, "why don't you use the left-over biscuits? They're right over here." And with that, I reached for the area I'd last seen the bag of biscuits. They weren't there. I moved some items aside and looked more intently. Nothing, nadda. The biscuits were gone. I furrowed my brow for a moment, "Had I eaten them and forgot? Or tossed them out?"
Then a light went off in my head as I remembered the tomatoes I'd seen on the floor.
"Olivia!!!"
It was pointless to yell out her name, #1) because she was standing right beside me, hoping some crumb of food would come her way, and #2) well, because she's deaf and can't hear me anyway.
I turned and looked at her, but she'd now presented her back to me and was facing John, watching him carefully remove the bowl of gravy from the microwave. I'm sure she was hoping he'd trip over her and spill the gravy on the floor.
Arghhh!
"Okay kid, I know it was you, it's always you! Where's the evidence? Did you eat the plastic bag so there wouldn't be any evidence?"
Other than the two small tomatoes on the floor, I hadn't seen any signs of her thievery the night before. No trail of crumbs or torn, chewed up plastic bag pieces. This dog was getting good at hiding her crimes.
I marched to her crate and pulled aside her big quilt. Sure enough, waaaay in the back of her crate was the empty plastic bag. She'd buried the evidence.
I marched back to the kitchen and shook the bag at her, but she barely glanced at me, still so focused on John's breakfast. The little wench!
Okay, I guess it was my fault, I should know better than to leave any food items (even if they are in a bag) any place where she can get it, and I should certainly know better than to leave her out of the crate when we aren't home. But darn it!, after she's spent all freaking day in there, I just can't stand putting her back in so soon after letting her out.
**sigh**
I'm either going to have to harden my resolve to crate her when we're not there, or just resign myself to the fact that she's going to continue to be a thief when our backs are turned.
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