Just a Few of My Favorite Things

This morning while checking the mail, retrieving the now-empty trashcan, and herding the cats I had these rambling thoughts about some of my favorite things, things that make me smile. I just never put mine into my blog rambles, so here goes to a few of mine… the list changes all the time, too, one never knows what will bring a smile any given day:

...an unexpected card in the mail from someone very dear (not just on Christmas)

...the smell of apple pies baking (hey – that’s today!)

...good friends (every day)

...that look that one of my cats gives me that says “thank you for rescuing me, I really like it here, I really like you, and I promise I’ll try to not hock up a hairball on the carpet again” (I don’t actually believe they mean that last part, but they try)

...working out a new book and realizing that wild nutty idea I had just might work after all

...finding a new flavor of ice cream (it’s a whole food group you know, hahah), currently my two favorites are “fried ice cream” and “banana split” from Walmart’s house brand – they’re terribly nummy – even their-fat free or lowfat ones are pretty darn good for what they are

...sunflowers

...discovering that just when I need it most, that item I just ran out of and need on an emergency basis is now on sale for a bargain (that happens too much to be coincidence, I like to think my Guardian Angel of All-Things-Domestic had a hand in that)

...Yahoo Messenger's synchronized video sharing, I love watching and listening to music and video with friends far away

...discovering a new author then realizing he/she has a ton of books out there already, and then acquiring their backlist

...finding one of my cats sleeping on the pillow under my desk all day, just to keep me company cuz I seem blue that day (Munch has been doing this for a week, she can’t be cold – so I figure she just likes the pillow, my desk, or my company perhaps… it’s a big enough house she could sleep elsewhere but she lurks nearby when I’m feeling a tad off)

...realizing that I have friends who will always be my friends, no matter how 'up' and nutty I get, no matter how down I get, and no matter how much I need to vent about my personal life – because I’d return the favor in a heartbeat many times over

Enough with the sappy warm-fuzzies, I’ll stop now, hehehe.

Happy Holidays!
-Susan

Don't knock fish tacos...

Gonna indulge in another passion of mine… making up recipes. Want to make some killer homemade fish tacos? Don't knock them till ya try them; if you've never had a fish taco, it's a great treat, not fishy at all.

Read on…

You’ll need…

4-6 decent-sized pickled green jalapenos, seeded, de-veined, etc., chopped fine

3-4 Roma tomatoes, remove the guts and chopped fine

1 small-medium sweet onion, peeled, chopped fine

1 bunch fresh cilantro, chopped fine, remove as many of the stems as you can, but you can leave a lot of stems in there

Juice from 1 lemon or a couple limes, or combo of both

Salt and pepper to taste

Sour cream

Olive oil

At least a couple white fish filets (like tilapia (what I used), mahi mahi, cod, roughy, etc.)

1 egg, beaten (start with just one at a time, it doesn’t take much)

Bread crumbs (if you don’t have pre-made kind, make your own)

Corn tortillas (probably 4-6 for 2 fish fillets, depends on size of fillets)

Cabbage or lettuce, shredded fine

Shredded cheese (I used the pre-shredded taco cheese blend, but just cheddar or just Monterey Jack or a combo of those would be fine too)

Here’s what you do… it takes a few minutes but worth all those messy dishes too:

For the salsa, mix the jalapenos, tomatoes, onion, cilantro, and lemon/lime juice. Add whatever salt and pepper you wish here. Set aside for a while, you need the flavors to bloom a bit. You won’t need the sour cream till later, leave it in the fridge for now.

In a big pan with a lid, put a little olive oil (maybe 1/8” to 1/4” deep in a pan), soften the corn tortillas so you can fold them in half – either continue to fry them till they’re crispy, or remove to paper-towel-lined plate and let them cool a tad. Yes, I said tad, hehehe, isn’t that a cooking term? I like them crispy, then after they’re cooled a tad (there’s that word again, it’s just up from a smidge and down from a lot) I split them open and lay them flat on a plate but some people like them just softened – your preference there.

Cut the fish fillets in half if they’re really wide and thick, they’ll cook more evenly. Besides, it doesn’t take but a small piece (about four inches long) for a corn tortilla, and you don’t want them too wide so cut them down to what you want first. Muck them around in the beaten egg then roll them through the bread crumbs – I like to do that step twice so they’re double-coated, woohoo! Fry them gently for a few minutes each side in the olive oil. Watch it, don’t overcook them, there’s nothing worse than overcooked fish. Ewwww. Helps to have the oil not so hot, either. Otherwise you’ll have a splattery mess on the stovetop. A lid helps steam and evenly cook the fish - you can flip them after a minute, they should be done very quickly, test with a fork in the thickest spots..

If you have a cat herd like I do, this is the point where you’ll have to sacrifice a small piece of the fish to each cat. Fortunately only 2 of mine are actual kitchen beggars, but they all smelled the fish and just had to join in the melee when they heard the 2 sobbing pitifully.

After you do the required sacrifice of the small fish tidbits and shoo the cats out of the kitchen for the eleventh time, and while the fish for YOU is gently cooking (keep an eye on it), take out the sour cream from the fridge and get another bowl. Put a couple big spoonfuls of sour cream in it, then a couple big spoonfuls of that salsa mess that’s been sitting and blooming. Only mix as much sour cream and salsa mess as you want to eat just then – the rest of the salsa mess can be refrigerated for days but you don’t wanna have it mixed with sour cream while it sits like that, it’ll get ooky. Yes, ooky’s a cooking term too. Just up a smidge up from grodie and down a tad from icky.

The fish should be done about now, take them out of the oil if they are. Fish frying requires lots of monitoring, don’t let that part get away from you so keep an eye on the fish tidbits in the oil.

Get the cheese out and brace yourself… assembly time coming up.

On a clean plate (You don’t think I’d actually say “on a dirty plate” did you? HA!), layer a tortilla with a spoonful of the salsa/sour cream mix, then plop a piece or two of the fish on top of that, add a little cabbage/lettuce shreds, and then sprinkle on some cheese.

Make a second one if you think you have room for it. Go eat before the fish cools off, it’s tasty. Works really well with grilled mahi mahi too, but I didn't have the impetus to grill the tilapia today so they were olive-oil lightly breaded and pan-fried. Mmm... mmmm... mmmmm...

Guess what I had for lunch? LOL!

Enjoy!

Warm fuzzies...

Cats, cats, cats. Great pets, cats. Although if you're allergic - no. Otherwise - yes. I had some rambling thoughts about cats... since I have five (CATS, not thoughts, reallllly what're YOU thinkin'?), that's not too hard to do.

One day I read that some smarty research person somewhere said cats have the average IQ of a three-year-old human. Forgot where I read that, I have a memory like a steel sieve: some days, not a lot stays behind. LOL!

I don't really agree with that whole IQ-of-a-three-year-old thing, because for one thing I've seen some terribly smart three-year-olds, plus with my five furballs, it's more like five- or six-year-olds. Maybe even seven-year-olds on a good day. They just like to hide their smarts to get us to do their evil furry bidding, LOL! I'm not bragging on how their brains might be more developed than the average feline - don't get me wrong, one of them still has the nickname 'Numbskull' and the other 'Idiot', but that's a whole other story. Good cats, but dumber than a box of socks some days.

Then my mom told me something funny recently - cats used to be worshipped as gods, and they've never quite forgotten that. Now ain't (yes I said "ain't") THAT the truth?

The way I see it is that they only LET ME live here out of the graciousness of their feline hearts. I maintain the living quarters and lifestyle just for them, supporting their need for constant supply of food, water, catnip, edible cat grass, litterbox maintenance, toys toys and more toys, and not to mention the endless need for attention when they're not sleeping off that latest food-, sun- or catnip-induced-coma.

Plus, whoever said cats are independent hasn't seen my herd. Since I'm home so much, I think they've somehow mentally bonded to me in a weird way. They tag-team me so I'm never alone. And I do mean... NEVER. Not in the yard, the garage, the bed, the kitchen... even the shower is not off-limits to them. Yes... I said the shower. I have one cat that likes to climb in!! She likes to watch from between the two curtains usually - a clear plastic liner on the inside and a fabric one on the outside means she has a neat little area on the rim of the tub where she can experience the shower without getting completely wet every time. However, she will climb in while the shower's going, she's done it before but lately she's gone for the Rim With A View.

Anyhow, they're not independent, no way. They're far too needy to be independent. If I get something to eat, at least two of them need to also. If I have a drink, another one needs one too (not from what I'm drinking or eating, they just make sure that I notice they're getting a drink at the cat fountain at the same time as I drink my coffee or tea, that's what I meant). Then if I nap, they nap with me... usually in pairs and usually on my lap or by my feet. If I walk to the door, two or three have to perform Feline Escort Duty so I can't escape. If I go down the hall to the bathroom, at least one has to follow... perhaps to make sure I don't fall in. Although what they're going to do if THAT happens I don't know, but there you are. Maybe if I did fall in, they'd have some sort of Feline SOS thing going, or they've learned how to hit 9-1-1. Anyhow, I'm constantly monitored by some furry beast.

Whoever thought aliens from another planet were set to invade and take over planet Earth never probably thought that we already HAVE BEEN invaded... by CATS!!! They're everywhere. Have been for thousands of years too.

They're great company, don't get me wrong, I'd never change a thing. They can sense when I'm happy or sad, they're a big comfort when I'm ill, even if they can't fix me some chicken soup or run to the store for more ginger ale. They keep me company 24/7 whether I want them to or not, something I've grown quite accustomed to now and enjoy it. They like to watch TV with me, and sometimes I think they even know what I'm thinking. It's fun to make them toys from a piece of wadded up paper, or an old tube sock tied with a pinch of catnip inside. They do miss me when I'm gone and they greet me enthusiastically when I come back, not to mention they royally freak out when the luggage appears, signaling the imminent event of "Mom's Leaving". If I'm gone for a week, they are terribly funny when I get back... and somehow that's where I know the saying of getting a "warm fuzzy" must have come from. I get a lot of warm fuzzies some days, whether I want them or not they're there and that's that.

Still don't think they're three-year-olds though. Give them the benefit of a doubt and at least say they're First Graders, LOL! Very not-independent god-complex First Graders. hehehe!!

Have a warm fuzzy day!

What's that smell...

Well... I gotta rant about forwarding emails.

Not the nice ones with pretty pictures, super-funny cartoons, cute animal pictures, amazing magic tricks, or unusual YouTube clips that are worth watching... I got my knickers in a twist about forwarding urban legends. Myths. Folklore. Miscellaneous hoo-haw that's really unbelievable in the first place... but still, they get forwarded A LOT!

You know the ones... the ones where most sane people would say before they forward "Oohhh maybe I should check this out before I look like a complete donkey's-tushy and send this to my entire email list...":

- tape a penny to a bee sting to ease the pain! (Maybe if the penny was frozen first... but who keeps their pennies in the freezer for that kind of emergency?! Use ice, vinegar, paste of baking soda, etc...)

- gas pumps are cheating you! (Well we all KNOW that the price is up there, but really, they're not mis-calibrated or cheating you out of gallons of gas on every fill-up. *sigh*)

- forward this email to all your friends and Bill Gates will send a dollar for each email address! (Like a multi-billionaire has any way to do THAT... yeah... pull the other one.)

- dial #77 on your cell phone to connect to local highway patrol! (Don't they know how to dial 911?)

- new dollar coin has no "In God We Trust" phrase! (Umm... yes it does!! On the edge, hehehe. I can't wait to see one, bet they look very cool.)

- hop on one foot and swing a dead cat (hey!) over your head three times under the first full moon in the Spring and all your warts will drop off the next day! (I'm so not making that up! Thankfully I only have received THAT one once, and I'm sure the person sending it knew it had to be a joke... but then... it WAS on April 1st, hmmm...)

And the one I hadn't seen before this morning is :

- for less than 2 bucks you can spray a cheap mouthwash (like Listerine) around your yard and all your mosquitoes will drop dead!!

GIMME A BREAK! That Listerine trick doesn't work, you can do a search on Snopes.com and read all about it. I love that site, they have EVERY urban myth and legend and whether it's remotely true or not, and all the details about anything you'd ever wanna know. Good site to have handy. And no, I'm not making a buck off promoting them, I'm just ranting about the Listerine myth. I'm in a mood, sue me.

There's this one friend that emailed me this urban myth this morning, so before I went to tell all my friends about it too, I checked it out. It's false of course. Use DEET stuff, that's what works on mosquitoes.

Around here we remove any standing water pockets in the yard, it's a mandatory thing for this area to keep them from breeding. We don't have it so bad here, but I know there are areas where they are major nuisances so I can imagine some people will try anything. But Listerine? The yard would sure have a unique aroma... bet the mosquitoes would love the minty-fresh breath before they stung ya too.

Sooo... back to the email. I thought I'd be a pal and just let her know nicely before she goes and wastes her time spraying her yard with mouthwash, and I sent her the link for Snopes page, just as a "by the way read this before you try it" kinda thing. It was a harmless thing, just a let-ya-know deal. *grin*

Her reply to me was very negative and very rude! Surprised me, too. Hey, most people just say thanks for pointing out an urban legend they didn't know about, they don't trash the sender. I didn't even start the thing! LOL!! A lot of people are taken in by the rumor emails that get started and then NEVER STOP. It's nice to nip one in the bud here and there - just so all of our collective email systems don't get bogged down with yet another rumor mill circulating in email.

So...

Please, for the love of God, take a second to look stuff up before you forward it. If it sounds too good to be true, it usually is.

And for Pete's sake, I won't get a hundred years of bad luck for NOT forwarding the other stuff either (but that's another blog for another day hehehe!!). *grin*

How did THAT end up in the cart?

Good grief, someone just shoot me. Well not REALLY! Put the gun away, it's just a figure of speech, golly.

You see... I went grocery shopping yesterday.

Oh but wait, that's not the whole story. (It never is, in my blogs, hahahah...)

I went grocery shopping on a Sunday afternoon, when everyone and their dog (really!) was at the Super Wal-Mart. Passed a lady with a guide-dog-in-training, so... it really WAS everyone and their dog, hehehe.

Oh but wait, it gets a wee bit worse.

I went grocery shopping on a Sunday afternoon BEFORE I had anything to eat.

Big huge OOOOOOOOOOOPS.

So there I was, resting after the ordeal, and wondering what exactly possessed me when I walked through the deli and the bread sections on an empty stomach. Carb heaven, here we come!

There should be a sign at the end of those aisles that says, "If you haven't eaten in the last four hours, do not enter."

Stuff landed in the cart without me even asking it to hop in! It was almost like shopping with hubby - stuff just mysteriously appeared in the cart. After wandering the Super Wally World for an hour, my feet were saying to my brain "Just take it! It's screaming your name! You want it, really you do!" And the worse inner comment: "There's room in the cart still!"

Did I really need two packages of whole wheat hamburger buns? Well, they WERE on sale. And they'll be used, no doubt... because I loaded up on sliced meats and cheeses too.

Did hubby really need two loaves of nine grain bread for sandwiches, when just one would do? Hey, they were on sale too, such a deal. And he does love his tuna salad.

Did we really need two packages of five-count butter croissants? Not on sale, but they will make absolutely fabulous turkey and swiss sandwiches.

There's a problem with grocery shopping for me though and I'm fully aware of it: if I don't eat, I come back with just about everything we ever needed and THEN some. But on the other side of the coin, if I eat before I go, then I come back with one bag of vegetables and some lettuce. AND NOTHING ELSE! Good grief, we can't live on that for a week!

Now where am I going to put all this STUFF...???

The joy of pets

Eeeeeeks, I shrieked!

There I was typing furiously on my story and hubby walks in. I was hip-deep in some really good scene and I got interrupted. It happens a lot! I put a mirror on the corner of the monitor that shows the doorway behind me but I was on a roll and frankly... he walks like a cat. He likes to sneak up behind me and read over my shoulder (ooo that's a pet peeve of mine, you'd think he'd stop but noooOOOoooooOOOoooo... eh, story for another day, LOL!!)

Apparently he thought I needed more blog material or something. So… herewego.

He delivered this announcement with just a bit of dread and morbid disgust:

"Tigger just barfed by the bed."

Then he stood there… just looking at me.
He. Just. Stood. There.

Well hold me back, stop the presses... does that mean... oh say it isn't so!! Does that mean I get to clean it up? Good golly, Miss Molly... and here I thought I was going to be able to eat din-din without feeling queasy from cleaning up a catmess.

There went that notion. Guess din-din's gonna have to wait till I get disinfected, too, hehehe.

And since when did he forget how to use a paper towels and Oxy-Clean (Ooooo if you have cats or dogs, this stuff is marvy on carpeting!)? We've had five cats for a while - it's not like catmess is a new idea around here.

I sooooo wish it was! We clean the carpets and feed them Furball-B-Gone regularly… if you have a cat, let alone more than just "*A* cat", you're going to get to play rug-spot-fixer at least once a week, if not more. Catmess happens.

So... feeling much like the big bad wolf out to lynch me a cat and a hubby all at once, I huffed and I puffed, and I got out the cleaning stuff (hey that rhymed! cool!), and I marched down the hall to see...

...the tiniest little spot of catmess that I've ever seen. I squinted, looked around, yep – hubby-dearling was pointing at that miniscule spot.

I'm not going to get graphic, but usually a catmess is quite... umm... artistic.

Me, looking around for more spots: "This is IT?"
Him, hedging his bets: "Well, there was that too."
He pointed to a spot some five feet away - far too distant to be from the same umm... errr... projectilation. (That's a word, isn't it? My spellchecker thinks not, but I think it is.)

Me: "That's not recent, that was Tigger couple days ago, darnitall. I'll go over it again."
Apparently the older spot came back up, so I hit it again with the Oxy-Clean right after hitting the new spot.

Out, darn spot, out!

Of course, hubby had to watch me closely, thankyouverylittleforhelpingsheesh!
Tigger had long since vanished. Probably hiding... again. The cat's a woos. Or is that wuss? Yeah... wuss.

Poor Tigger, she gets so stressed sometimes. It'd be nice if she didn't make a catmess right where we either A) need to walk in the dark barefooted, or B) next to someone trying to sleep. Perhaps one of these days she'll aim at the linoleum or wood floor so it's ta-da (drum-roll-please) far easier to clean! Like that'll ever happen.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my kitties though… and I know if we didn’t have cats, we’d have dogs. Or a combo of the two, maybe a house rabbit again - I used to raise those years ago. We just love our pets.

Oh the people I meet...

So much for my belief that Wal-Mart had the only oddballs wandering the aisles during daylight hours. No offense, hubby-dearling, this doesn't mean you. *grin*

Went to Walgreens at lunch today (it's a chain drugstore, if you don't have those in your neck o' the woods) to use some coupons. Hey, if I need something AND it's on sale AND I have a coupon AND they gimme five bucks off for one day... I'm sooooo there!!! Gotta love me a bargain. Or two or three.

And those of you that know me, know I love to read, so of course... there I was, minding my own business, looking over the books and magazines... when along comes a Worker Bee in her ohhh... I wanna guess she was fifty-ish. I just know she was a little older than me.

WB: "Are you 'Dee'?"

Me, blinking, surprised: "Beg yer pardon?"

WB, looking not the least put out: "I know this is a weird question, but are you 'Dee'?"

Me, looking for nearest escape route: "Umm... err... not today I'm not."

WB, explaining further: "I'm supposed to meet someone here named 'Dee' today, and I thought you might be her..."

Me, relieved in an odd way but still apprehensive: "Sorry, I'm a 'Susan' last I checked, not a 'Dee'." I shook my head and scooted a little to one side here.

WB, scuttling away, turned back to chuckle: "Oh you can't be her anyhow, she has a British accent."

Well... game on. Ding ding ding, I can do that!

Me, in my absolute best Brit accent: "Oh, a Brit, you say? I CAN do that, luv!"

WB, skidding to a stop with somewhat started expression: "You're sure you're not 'Dee'?"

I just laughed and shook my head and she was mollified enough to go looking for another her Dee elsewhere. What I didn't know just then is that she was supposed to meet this Dee-person in THAT aisle, not just anywhere in the store.

So there I was, wandering the aisles for the other super-duper-coupon-deals and I roamed back past that aisle again to see her accosting, I mean asking, two more women if they were 'Dee' and overhearing the same explanation that she was looking for a Dee in that aisle today. They had the identical look on their faces as I'm sure I had: Where's the nearest exit? Where're the men in white coats? Security!!

For about ten seconds I seriously thought about walking back to her with my best fake accent and re-introducing myself as Dee, but... considering that I didn't know WHY she was meeting Dee (and in, of all places, the magazine/book section of the local Walgreens! how odd is that?), then I curbed my curiosity for once.

For all I know, she wanted to belt the person in the face! She seemed harmless enough, but then... don't most serial killers at first glance?

Or... maybe this Dee owed her money, I just don't know. I wasn't gonna ask. But now I'm curious as to WHY she wanted to meet Dee... I can't ask her again until I go back there and find the same Worker Bee! Eeeks!

Oh but wait... if I did go find her on another day... wouldn't it be funny to walk up to HER and say, "Are you Susan?"

I'm sooooo mature some days.

So... if you're in Vancouver, and you have to go to Walgreens to pick up some nifty stuff today, AND your name is Dee... shop at Rite-Aid. You'll be safer.

It's just a hunch. *grin*

What's on the menu?

So there I am at Wal-Mart today... again... standing in the checkout line and mulling over things I could rant about online publicly when it hit me... the front cover of a popular woman’s magazine had a little blurb in the upper right, designed to get people to look inside. Or maybe buy the issue.

The bit said: "4 Things All Guys Crave Hearing - pg. 74"

Well I'm curious as a cat , but not THAT curious. I don't have to pick up the latest issue to know the answer to THAT one... I been married since... ohh... umm... errrrr... well, a while. Long enough to know that without even looking, I could imagine they'd mean things that would stroke his (cough hack cough) fragile (cough cough hack) ego. And no, that's not a euphemism, get yer mind outta the gutter. Besides, if I'd picked up the magazine to see what exactly WAS on pg. 74 of this month's issue, I probably woulda died laughing.

Like I said before... some days I'm soooooooo mature. LOL! I just knew I'd be in trouble from the Hysterics Police if I picked it up to read, so I didn't.

Around this house... the four things hubby-dearest craves hearing kinda go like this:

4. "Why sure, I'll pay all the bills this month, you just keep your paycheck to yourself this month, honey!"

3. "You just put your feet up, dearling, I'll bring you something to eat and drink and fetch the remote for you, would you like me to put in a DVD too?"

2. "Of course you can sit around and do absolutely nothing today! The yard can wait. Why... it's not even two feet tall yet!"

...and the all time top drawer ding ding ding winner of them all...

1. "You. Were. Right."

Of course, if ya know me... that's just sarcasm. But now that I'm home and I can't read pg. 74, I'm curious... what are the four things that all guys crave hearing? I shoulda just picked it up anyhow.

P.S. #2-3-4 are really sarcasm, but number 1 there - that's for REAL. He LOVES to hear me say "You were right." *grin*

Trivial pursuits...

Hey guess what... I'm not going to rant on hubby again, not today. (He just breathed big sigh of relief, hahahah!)

But... I do have a new hobby other than picking on hubby: yelling at the TV. Not just any yelling, I mean yelling trivia answers at the TV during the show "Ca$h Cab" on Discovery Channel. This could be a problem if hubby's trying to sleep, LOL... good thing it's on towards the evening here. And for a whole hour! Woohoo!!

If you haven't seen the show... here's kinda how it goes: The opening shtick says there's some 13,000 cabs in NYC (that's a LOT Of cabs, holy cow!) and only ONE of them, driven by the host Ben Bailey, is the Ca$h Cab. Victims, I mean passengers, hop in and give their destination, then these colorful lights go off on the ceiling and as they jump out of their collective skins he intones "You're in the CASH CAAAAB!!! The game show that takes place right here in the caaaab!!!" and goes on to say they can play the game-show-on-wheels guessing general trivia starting at $25/question on up to $100/question as they get harder. They get two shout-outs if they get stuck: one from some random stranger on the street, and one freebie cellphone call to someone. Miss three times and Ben dumps you out right where you are! Of course - bonus is - nothing paid for the free ride. Except a little embarrassment if you strike out.

Oh the shame of being in the mobile shout-out and the random stranger that you pick has NEVER seen the movie "Gone With The Wind"!!! More yelling at the screen here.

One part I love are the red light challenges. They get a red light and he asks a multiple choice question and the idiots, I mean contestants, have to yell out as many answers as possible in 30 seconds for an additional $250 and there's no striking out with wrong answers. They ask stuff like... ohhh... name 5 of the top 7 schools of law (the group of 4 got that one)... or name 5 of the top 7 fast food chains (2 ladies missed that one)... you'd be surprised what people don't know, they completely blank out under the pressure.

What I really like is not the concept, nor the voyeurism of watching the contestants sweat it out, but the host's facial expressions and side comments. He delivers the questions very clearly and succinctly (got an earpiece on his left ear feeding him info, you can see it sometimes), then from the watcher's viewpoint (cough ME cough) we get to see him grimace, grin, or mouth wisecracks to the camera, often with a quite sarcastic tinge. That's gotta be why I like it... the sarcasm.

At the end of the ride, if they don't strike out and they make it to their destination, then Ben gives them a double-or-nothing video bonus question. Half the time the people take the enticement, and MANY times people miss. I think more than half of the errors are because they're suddenly sweating it out thinking of the all-or-nothing-angle, hearing that Ben just said the question's going to be MUCH harder than the other questions.

Often times, they're not!

Like... asking the young lady 'what state is Old Faithful in'... and showed some pictures of it too, becaaaaauuuuse... tadaaahhh... it's a VIDEO bonus question. She went back and forth between Wyoming and New Mexico... with me shouting WYOMING!!! at the screen, and she guessed... drumroll... New Mexico.

D'oh! Oh the pain!!

Her mom lives in Wyoming, she said. Wanna bet she won't live that down anytime soon? Imagine every holiday, birthday, and anniversary from there on out, her mother gently sticking another pin in the doll... "Remember when you didn't know where Ol' Faithful was, sweetie..." I can't remember how much she lost out on, I think it was gonna be $1200 or $1300 for the right answer. She was on a roll, too! Poor sucker, I mean passenger... shoulda left with the money she'd already won. At least she got a free cab ride across town... but the shame of missing that one... woof. That the material family reunions are made of.

Then... there were the two young ladies that were doing sooooo good, till they got to the video bonus... and missed! ARGH!! The question was about who lived in this palatial estate in San Simeon California. Well, I have gone there so that's why I knew it: William Randolph Hearst. Pretty pics of Hearst Castle, too, very distinctive. They looked like they were gonna cry for missing that. Missed out on $1500 for that boo-boo.

Almost (ALMOST!) makes me wanna go to NYC. The odds of actually landing in that cab would be... astronomical. And expensive, LOL! I'll just stay home and yell at the TV, hehehe. For now I will just yell at the TV.

Men and shopping... and oh yes, cats

Well. The cats decimated another scratching post, the big one with carpet on the base and a big section of sisal rope around the middle of the 4' high 4x4 wood post. I figured, we spent plenty $$$ to buy it new and they love that post, AND I'm handy with hot glue and a staple gun, so I'll just replace the carpeting and sisal, rather than buy a new post. Sisal's cheap, so are carpet remnants.

And apparently I needed something to do.

The problem is... what I ask for wasn't what I got (hmm... rarely is, come to think of it! hahaha). I sent hubby to Lowe's (cuz I had work to do… victims to stalk! emails to write! blogs to update!) for "at least 60' sisal and a 2'x3' carpet remnant". Actually, he had appointment, and he was already out-n-about, that's why he went. Really.

Sound simple, right? I wrote it on paper too.

Not so simple. What I got was 50' sisal and a 1-1/2'x20' remnant.

The man has no spatial relations. And I'm not talking derogatorily about the space between his ears, cuz ya know I think he has that, but he has no idea when I say at least 60' I mean get more than 60' even if you have to get two 50' bundles cuz I'll use it on the other posts too. D'oh! So I showed him why the carpeting wasn't quite right...

Me, holding the way-too-narrow carpet remnant to the now-too-wide flat base: "See? I needed at least 2' wide."

Him, shrugging: "They didn't have carpet remnants at Lowe's. That's all they had where I went."

Me, surprised: "Not Lowe's? So where'd you go?"

He named some carpet store nearby, not where I woulda went but that's okay, I didn't go. There's some other shop I'm thinking of nearer the center of town... but... since I didn't go, I wouldn't complain. Much.

Me, confused: "They didn't have anything more... square?"

Him, repeating cuz I apparently didn't hear him the first time: "No, that's all they had."

Me: "There's more than one carpeting store in this town, you know."

Him, still repeating himself cuz I'm too dense to hear him today: "Yeah... welllll... Lowe's didn't carry carpet remnants."

Me: "I wasn't talking about Lowe's, I was talking about where you went."

Him, repeating like I didn't get it first or the second time: "That's all they had."

Me, resigned: "Fine, I'll put a cheap-n-dirty seam in it, Tigger will rip it out in a week. She has a nervous twitch, you know."

Him, ever the broken record to drive home the point: "That's all they had."

Last night I had counted the loops of sisal, and by size of the post I used my handy-dandy calculator and it came up to 54'. I figured 60' I could wrap it tighter. But no! The stuff only comes in 50' bundles and instead of buying 2 of the 50' bundles (so I could have redone the sisal on a smaller post TOO while I was all hot-n-sweaty - and not in a good way, either, thankyouverymuch!!), he brought back only *one* bundle.

So I wrapped it a little looser, it turned out okay, the post is covered. Cats are happy. I'm tired. That stuff is rough to work with, ugh. And hey - I saved major bucks doing it myself!

But the carpeting... wellll... I had to seam it and I don't think that's gonna last. You should see Tigger and Precious and Sweet Pea dig into the flat carpet part, they're aggressive.

Ya know what's really funny? The cat herd watched the entire time. They were fascinated by the sisal rope all over the kitchen floor.

Hubby watched too. He was fascinated that he matched the carpet remnant so close to what was already on the post. I had to shoo them all outta the room no fewer than five times - with the water sprayer. Gotta love it when I get growled and hissed at - and not by the cats, either, that was hubby!

At least now they have a post that works again, I'd hot-glued it so many times it took me a while to undo all the stuff I'd done to it first, hehehe. That's a big enough craft project for me for this week. And now Tigger won't try and eat the sisal, she was gnawing on the loose ends that had ripped off. That cat will eat ANYTHING, but that's a different blog for another day, she's our little omnivore.

And those flowers up top? That's the blooms from a sisal plant. Pretty, huh?

Multi-tasking and telemarketers...

Woah... multi-tasking overload here. Listening to Creed CD (at FULL BLAST thank you very much) with the headphones on, working, uh I mean playing online and... the PHONE RINGS.

ARRRGH. Gamus interruptus.

I could see the flashing light on line 1 out of the corner of my eye, that's only how I knew it was ringing in the first place. There's NO WAY on God's green earth I coulda heard the bell ringing overtop of Creed thundering out "Torn". No way.

With my left hand, whipped off the headphones, paused the music, picked up the phone, hit line one, and put the receiver to my ear (thankfully it's one of those shoulder-rest models), all without missing a beat on my right hand with the mouse in the game. Hey, told ya I could multi-task!

But hey – that solitaire game is timed, has no pause, and I was winning, and I wanted to STAY winning. I know it's just a game... but I had a bad day and I needed to fuss around in games for a while and have some fun.

Anyhow... I barked, I mean SAID into the phone, "YEAH???" Then I cringed, hoping it wasn't a friend... or worse, my mom calling and I just yelled in her ear.

And... nothing. No response. I could hear something in the background, like a faint gurgle noise, but... nothing. I was hoping I hadn't scared whoever it was into choking.

"Hello?" I said, waiting.

*click* *click* (Gotta keep up with the game )

Just about to hang up, and I was still playing too, I hear a voice say, "Susan?"

*click* *click*

Me, annoyed at having not only my game disturbed - and my winning streak - AND my rock'n'roll session of blaring Creed interrupted, I barked, I mean SAID again: "Yeah?"

*click* *click*

Then some poor bastard, I mean phone solicitor, said something highly-accented and very unintelligible really quickly and no way could I have caught anything of what he said.

Sighing, I said, "I can't hear you, sheesh..." and hung up on whatever he was saying next. He didn't call back.

*click* *click*

Back to the game, thank God. Headphones back on, song un-paused. That's a word, right? Un-paused? Or maybe, for a cat, it'd be un-pawsed? Oh I digress again, silly tangents.

Anyhow... did I mention that the headphones were up really loud? After I hung up, I realized something: THAT'S why I couldn't hear the guy, my ears are ringing.

Woops, my bad. *snicker*

I do loathe phone solicitors. It's an unlisted number here, and usually I give them the shpiel "ThisisanunlistednumberputusonyourDo.Not.Call.EVER.List." and THEN slam the phone down. Surprised I haven't broken it yet.

The phone, not that phrase. It does cut down on calls, but still we get maybe one per week. Used to be a dozen a day. GAG me.

When I was full-time in the office, they used to give me the calls on purpose (I would ask my assistant to do that so she wasn't tied up for the other incoming lines) and so I could vent my daily frustrations on some poor unsuspecting sap that was trying to rip us off for copier supplies.

Some day I'll rant about how many things I used to tell the scammers... mostly it involved running them around in circles, hoping the Logic Police would tell them to just hang up, but no. They'd stick in there for a long, long time... five minutes at least usually - and I kept working in the background, trust me... I can really multi-task! Mostly it would start with them calling and ask what model of copier we had so they could bill us for toner they never send.

Gimme a break. We were a small company and I used to order all the supplies anyhow... so I would know if we were billed for something we didn't order. *sigh* Besides, we had a contract with our copier people - supplies included. Never had anyone call and verify our model - if they did, they were falling down on the job there. Hear that scammers? That doesn't work, don't ask for copier models, people are on to you.

Oh the good ol' days of torturing a toner scammer... now all I get is the people that say they're affiliated with the local Sheriff or firefighters or some who-haw like that.

Now if they wanted to actually send the firemen here to talk to me in person... well... I might consider that. Some of them are quite hot. *grin*

Some Days It Pays To Complain

Okay this is a long one, but worth it. Sit back, relax, grab a cuppa coffee... enjoy.

I don't care what hubby says, some days it pays to complain. He can be as embarrassed if he wants, if I wanna complain, I will. And publicly, too. I'm too old not to, at this point.

Now, I don't mean just complaining for the sake of hearing my own whining, I mean complaining when someone's done something wrong. Like messing up your meal in a restaurant, or telling you they'll have your car ready at such-n-such time and then it's four days later they finally tell you 'oh woops we forgot we had to order that part from Germany!'... ya know... stuff like that. We're all consumers at some point, so if my purchase is whacked out for any reason, there's a right to complain somewhere in there. And I mean I complain nicely, I don't go off half-cocked. If I'm gonna go off, it's fully-cocked.

*cough* *cough* *cough* Don't touch that.*cough* *cough* *cough*

See, it all started innocently. Heck, it always does. Last week, to get hubby outta the house so I could work on my writing, and to make him happy with something to do on his day off, hubby went to Taco Bell. Ooooo I love those Gordita Baja with steak, mm mm mm. Tasty things, they are... when they're made right!

Problem is... what he brought back was a piece of flatbread with just steak and lettuce and a teensy sprinkle of cheese.

Well. Humph. I've had them before, I know what's in them: seasoned ground beef, jalapeño pepper sauce (that stuff is AWESOME), salsa fresca, lettuce, cheese, and since we added steak... carne asada steak. I even looked up their website to verify that's what I'd had before, and compared it to the receipt showing what he'd ordered, AND what he'd paid for were all correct. They'd just screwed up in making the thing, and had skipped most of the ingredients. Ack.

Some days I'm fully passive-aggressive (and this was one), so I figured why complain to them directly by phone when their WEBSITE lets me complain to the head honchos? Soooo I fired off a well-written and stated-clearly complaint, no screaming just stating the facts on when-where-what-how-etc. That was ummm... last Wednesday night I think. Late at night, too, I had to think on it for a while... to complain or not complain, that was the question.

In today's mail - a very, VERY nice apology letter from Taco Bell Corporate, and a coupon for two free items of my choice from the menu. Woohoo! Free lunch, here I come.

Works for me!

Then as I sat here thinking of all the bazillion times I've had something like this occur, I think the absolute best was Arby's:

Quite a few years back, me and a friend had gone to an Arby's that just so happened to have one of the corporate offices NEXT DOOR. And not in a separate building, they shared the SAME front door. You'd think the staff would be ultra-trained at that site, right? Wrong.

I'd asked if the special new ham-n-cheese sandwich on the menu was hot (they don't serve it anymore, not the same way), and it turned out, it was not - it was deli style, but nowhere on the overhead menu or the signs by the cash register did it say that. It even looked hot in the picture, melting cheese and all! And the cashier taking my order told me it was hot, he confirmed it.

When the tray arrived, I said it's wrong, it's supposed to be hot. The employee said no it's not hot, and walked away. Well, that bent me the wrong way.

And so began my life of filing complaints at restaurants.

So I went up to the register with the offending food. THEN... they refused to refund my money because it's what I'd ordered (the previous cashier was on break, what timing). So I walked next door (with the tray). Now this really embarrassed my friend, but I wasn't going to eat cold ham-n-cheese when hot was what I'd paid for and what I'd expected and what my head and stomach and mouth were all prepped for – cold just was not gonna cut it.

Whaddya know, the corporate office was closed for the day. I think it was a Saturday, that's why.

So I grabbed a complaint form, went back to my table, filled out the complaint, stuffed it in the complaint box by the corporate door, along with my receipt and...

...about 2-3 days later got in the mail an envelope with a personal letter apologizing, and the promise that they'd retrain the individuals, AND... a stack (!!!) of free coupons, enough for ohhh a dozen meals and potato cakes, fries, drinks, etc.

Shocked the heck outta me!! All I'd wanted was a refund for 2 small cold ham-n-cheese sandwiches. Did they go over the top? You betcha!! Now that's customer service. Didn't cost them anything in the long run, and it made me an Arby's fan for life, hehehe.

We don't live by that Arby's place anymore, but you bet when we did, I went in there once a week... just to see if I could get them to screw up again. And darn it if I couldn't!! They'd retrained them all very, very, VERY well.

But now... we live near this Taco Bell.

Looks like 'game on' again. *grin*

Movie Night

We have a game in this house... it's loosely called "Guess What Movie Is Playing In Under Five Minutes". There's no prize, other than bragging rights, and bonus kudos to the person that can name the most actors/actresses. So... since it's hubby day off and I need a break from all that month-end hoo-haw, and HBO was playing an old movie from '83 we hadn't watched in FOREVER... it was game on: "Mr. Mom". Cute movie, haven't watched it in years.

And since hubby missed opening credits... he was the obvious guesser:

Him, two seconds after sitting down: "Oh, I know what movie this is!"
Me, knowing he'd draw a blank: "Go ahead, guess."
Him, drawing a blank: "It's umm..."
Me, rolling my eyes: "Don't hold me in suspense, just guess!!"
Him: "It's... umm..."
Me, sighing: "Sheesh. Guess already."
Him: "It's that one where the Japanese..."
Me: "No, it's so NOT "Gung Ho"."
Him: "Are you sure?"
Me, looking for something other than the heavy metal stapler to throw: "Gimme a break, I picked it out, you guess."
Him: "It's umm..."
Me: "Geez. Just watch the movie. When you're ready to guess, just spit it out."

Two minutes later...

Him: "I know what it is."
Me, sighing again: "Okay, which one is it? Guess."
Him: "It's umm..."
Me: "We been through this before, numbnut."
Him: "It's that one with the car industry."
Me: "It's. Not. Gung. Ho."
Him: "Are you sure?"

Me: "It's. Not. Gung. Ho. Really!"

An additional two minutes later...

Him: "I know what it is."
Me, agitated cuz he was taking too long: "Fine. Guess."
Him: "It's that one where he takes over his wife's... umm..."
Me, cutting him off cuz I really wanted to watch it now: "When you know the title, let me know. Just. Watch. The. Movie."

Several minutes later yet (well over the five-minute mark)...

Him, yelling so loud me AND all five cats jumped two feet: "MR. MOM!!!"

I could smell smoke, he'd thought so hard.

I won, he didn't guess it under five minutes, and he only guessed Michael Keaton, completely missing Teri Garr. I tormented him by pulling up IMDB.com and listing all the other movies Teri's been in... he still drew a blank. Until the end credits rolled (that cheater).

The grass is always greener...

So it's now mowing season... again. We have a cordless rechargeable Black and Decker dealie, works great (when it's been serviced properly) and so easy even I can use it. Had it for ohhh 11 years. Hubby-dearling thought it was 15, had to prove to him it was only 11 (ha! I can add 7+4!!).

Anyhow... so he decided to do yard work this morning. After 2 hours of NOT hearing the lawnmower running, I poked my curious head out the door.

Me, watching him walk around the yard aimlessly, sans mower: "What's going on?"
Him, waving a weed-plucking device in one hand towards the garden shed: "Mower needs charging."
Me, scowling: "It was charged two days ago."
Him: "Well somehow it got unplugged." (guess he thinks squirrels did it)
Me, owning up: "Right - I unplugged it because it had been plugged in for a week already."
Him, hands on hips: "Well now it has to charge."
Me: "Are you sure?"
Him: "It has a red light."
Me: "Did you test it to see if maybe it was borderline and you could run it for a while, then charge it later?"
Him: "No, it has a red light."
Me: "Oka-a-ay, fine. Just try it, see if it's charged, I think the red light's a false-negative, it does that sometimes but it still has juice to run."

Ten minutes later...

Him, coming in the door scowling: "Can't mow. Blade just snapped off."
Me, disgusted at another delay: "Oh goodie. Guess that means it don't need charging now."
Him: "No, it needs a new blade."
Me: "You can take care of that, right?"

I could actually hear the grass growing. He just stood there looking at me with a blank look like I was supposed to stop work and go get a new blade from gosh-knows-where.

After two minutes of silent staring, I gave in and got the phone book out.

Me, disgusted further: "I knew I'd end up doing this."
Him: "I'm NOT going to Portland for a blade."
Me, rolling my eyes: "You'll go where the repair place IS, even if it's Portland."
Him: "I'm not going to Portland."

Dug around, found the owner's manual, looked up where the Service Center was... and... and... and... oh joy of joys!

Me, grinning like an idiot cuz I couldn't help myself: "Guess what, you're going to Portland!!"

Okay, I said that a little too gleefully, so sue me.

He growled.

Me, trying to justify: "It's not far, sweetie, it's just south of us right across the Columbia, barely into Portland, see?"

Held up a map to show him where it was. He studied it, grunted, then walked away. I went back to work.

He came back two minutes later in his jammies.

Me: "Ummm... hellllllo... does 'lawnmower need a blade today' mean anything to you?"
Him, plopping down in recliner: "I have to go TODAY?"
Me: "When would you suggest going?"
Him, thinking it would be a week before next day off and obviously hearing the grass growing too: "Umm..."
Me: "Get the mower and all the stuff in your car. It probably needs more than just a blade, so take everything with you and they can look at the whole thing. I'll print a map from Google for you. It's not far, you'll be down and back before you know it."

The grown man cussed and growled at me the whole way down the hall - at least that's what I think he did, I tuned him out. Thank God for earplugs, I say.

He disappeared to the garage in street clothes, then ten minutes later he came in sweating with a triumphant look on his face.

Him: "Had to wrestle the thing into the car."
Me: "I coulda helped you, you know, that sucker's kinda heavy."
Him: "Well... it's done. So there."

We're so mature, I almost stuck my tongue out at him but I didn't. He's been complaining about the mower for the last year. "It doesn't cut like it should!" "We need a new mower!" "It runs down on its charge too fast!" "We need a gas mower!" "I can't cut the lawn with this mower!!" and it never stops.

Well, if he replaced the blade when it got dull or chipped (takes an Act of Congress for him to do that), charged it properly (which he's never learned how), replaced the battery pack (another feat of modern science he doesn't understand yet), got the thing serviced ONCE IN A WHILE (don't get me started there), there'd be no whining. I usually tuned him out. Most of it sounded like "blah blah blah lawnmower blah blah blah" anyhow. The mower's his responsibility, not mine. It's not like I'm foisting off my own task, it's just that he said it was his thing years ago, so he can handle it on his own, right?

Turned out to be a bad-news-good-news thing: bad news, our old mower was broke and old, 11 years. The deck was pitted with holes, needed major work for almost $200 PLUS the cost of a new deck. But good news was that for $299 (and no sales tax cuz it's Oregon! yay!), we could get a factory like-new reconditioned model - a NEWER model too with better controls and better handle and everything - with all new stuff today with no waiting and wonder of wonders, they'd scrap out the old beast for us. Being this is the PNW and they're recycle-happy everywhere and especially here too, that's a bonus for us - no trash dumping fee, no figuring out what to do with a busted out-of-date mower with a battery pack that would have to be handled by a HazMat Team.

Me, just one hour later after the beginning of the whole fiasco: "You happy now?"

He just grunted. I took that as happiness. At least it wasn't whining or growling or cussing.

So we got a 'new' mower. Thing's a beauty too, I might just take up mowing again - if he'd let me touch his new toy. Did he remember to take the old grass catcher, charger, and mulching device? No, darnitall. But... hubby-dearling's happy. Hopefully I won't hear any whining for another decade until this one dies.

I can dream, can't I?

All in a days' work

(This really happened on April 1st - just waited to post it... enjoy!)

I love tech support people. Not just any tech support people - tech support with a good sense of humor.

There I was, April 1st, and my home phone and internet were down. The cable TV worked, but... without internet and phone I was lost. Well mostly the internet. I don't talk on the phone much but the internet is my line to my friends, family, work, stuff, you name it. I was lost.

L-O-S-T... lost. Couldn't check email, check pals online, or... what was that other thing? Oh yeah, I couldn't WORK. I didn't think it was any funny April Fools Day joke either. It wasn't. My service provider was having issues.

Aaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!

I could live without having to work for a day, but no internet? *GASP* Might as well cut off my sugar intake while you're at it, cruel people.

So by 10pm I was frantic. I'd done as much as I could while no internet all day - paid bills, cooked, laundry, cleaned, fiddled with paperwork, drove hubby nuts, chased the cats around the house... it was getting old. I needed my internet back. Soooo I called my cable company again... fifth time that day... they were blah blah aware of an outtage in my area blah blah blah and were still working blah blah blah blah on it and had no blah blah blah blah idea when it would blah blah blah blah blah blah be back up.

Aaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!

Depressed, I went to bed HOURS early at 10:30pm. My usual fall-asleep time is well after midnight cuz I like to write STUFF LIKE THIS late at night when it's quiet and the late night talk shows are on.

Then I proceeded to wake up every 2 hours to look at the modem. Still blinking. Blinking's not good. Blinking's bad. Very bad. Blinking means no phone, and NO INTERNET.

Aaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!

Needless to say, I did not sleep. I dreamt of being without the internet for days and then weeks on end, stuck on some forgotten island with nothing more than a deflated basketball named Wilson and a box from Fedex with wings on it. Oh wait, that was a movie, never mind. I digress.

11am rolls around, and frustrated beyond frustrated, ready to rip hubby a new one (just for chuckles this time, the earlier time at 9am he deserved it but that's another blog some day) I decided to try and reset the modem to see if that would make any difference. Ha. So much for my rational frame of mind.

Soooo... I turned it around, unplugged ALL the things... and turned it back around to see... IT STILL LIT UP! And the light internet was still blinking, by the way.

Aaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!

How's that possible? I nearly dropped it. It was...

The Modem From Hell!! My cable company had obviously given me a possessed piece of equipment.

Aaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!

Shivering, I plugged it back in, unplugged it just to check, counted to ten and looked and sure enough... It. Was. still. on!

Aaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!

So I called my cable company on my cell phone, got a live tech geek, nice guy named... ohhh I forgot his name but it was something like... Derek. He sounded like a Derek and Derek's a nice name so we'll call him Derek from here on out.

I explained my situation to Derek and ended it with the part about my modem being possessed. He understood and chuckled. Best of all, he understood my fright. AND he understood that I'd been in full blown internet withdrawal for just over 24 hours and had the shock of my life from... *ominous drum roll please* The Modem From Hell. Dah dah DAHHHHH!!!!

Derek: "After a long service outage like we had yesterday, sometimes we have to reset the modem and it'll work just fine, hang in there."
Me: "I tried to reset it myself thinking that'd help but it won't reset."
Derek: "I'd be glad to reset your modem from here."
Me: "You can? Oh you're a blessing. I'm really worried about it though, should it stay on like that?"
Derek: "The newer models like you have are fully battery-backed-up so your phone will stay on in a power outage."
Me: "Ahhhh... no one told me that before."
Derek: "Okay, you ready? I'm going to reset it now."
Me: "Ready as I can ever be, do I need to back away?"
Derek: "No, it's okay. I have the holy water and cross ready, here we go."

I laughed. Pleasant AND quick with a Snappy Comeback, I like that!!

Me: "Good thing I'm wearing a necklace of garlic and I got the silver bullets in the gun already just in case."

(I took my Snappy Comeback Pill earlier too, apparently.)

He laughed and I watched the lights change on the device as he reset it remotely. In a minute it stabilized, no blinking, everything solid like it should be. Seconds later I was Googling and Yahooing and Facebooking like one drooling 'netophile and he was saying they take great pride in vanquishing the occasional vampiric modem.

I'm tellin' ya... the guy had a sense of humor. That's a blessing when you're stressed out. Next time I need to talk to a stressed out customer on the phone, I'm gonna remember Derek. He made me laugh so hard I cried.

Or maybe that was just my internet being back online that made my face wet.

Cats DO own the house!!

Well...

Late last night I flopped on the bed sideways to stretch my back out after sitting at the computer for too many hours and too many nights in a row working on a story. I love to write but the long hours of typing and editing takes its toll in my back muscles. Even WITH a nifty cushion and lumbar chair - kinda hard to avoid, it just is.

Anyhow...

I'm alone, hubby's at work. Well... not exactly ALONE-alone... the five furballs are here somewhere. As far as I knew, I was alone on the bed.

So imagine this... I THINK I'm alone. No one but ME is on the bed. I flop back, stretch my arms up, lean my head back to look up and ceiling... and WHAM! Sweet Pea leans over into my face and upside down, an inch from my forehead goes, "MEW!!!" very loudly.

Scared the living daylights outta me!! I couldn't go to sleep for an hour! Dang cat yelled at me cuz I was in HER space for all of two seconds? Puh-leaze!! Who feeds her? Me. Who gives her running tap water thirty-five (well maybe it's only ten) times a day cuz she won't drink standing water? Me. Who pets her during the night when she needs reassuring that she's really not alone? Me. Who brings her cat treats from Wallyworld? Me. Who plays with her when she demands attention on a daily basis? Me. Who cleans her box? Me. I'm her maid... that's what it's come down to.

If I had nine lives, Sweet Pea just scared one of them right outta me, LOL! Maybe even two.

Men and math (before caffeine)

So... we had some tree work done, removed 3 dead magnolias and trimmed up 5 full-size old fir trees. The front yard had the dead magnolias, poor things had to be 20 years old too - only one survived - and the firs were in the back, they're probably 60' tall or something, they're HUGE and older than the house. Yard looks much healthier now and I think the trees all went "ahhhh thannnnk youuuu" in relief, no more dead weight from the winter storms left now and we have a buncha firewood we can burn for heat next winter. It's too bad those trees died, but such is life in the Pacific Northwest - big storms happen and sometimes they just don't make it.

But then we had 2 holes left in the front yard from 2 of the magnolias - had to grind the stumps to get rid of them but in the end it's best way, it just leaves holes and we didn't have any fill dirt or topsoil to put in place yet. We had azalea shrubs to go in the holes but still... we had big holes.

So I asked dear hubby to stop by the dirt place on the way to work and get a price on enough dirt to fill the two holes. It's okay if we have extra but I don't wanna be saddled with a LOT of extra dirt and frankly no place to put it, knowwhatImeanVern?

I was barely awake when he called...

Him: "So they have dirt (like I didn't know that, ha!) and it's $25 per yard."
Me, yawning: "How much is a yard?"

He repeated the price, like I hadn't heard him the first time.

Me, growling: "No really, how much is a yard?"

He repeated it slower, damn him.

Me, sighing loudly: "Not in price, silly... how BIG is a yard? What're the dimensions?"
Him, finally catching the drift: "Oh... lemme check."

He never checks first before calling me. I woulda but he doesnae. I hear mumbling in the background and he comes back.

Him, sounding superbly enlightened: "It's 25 cubic feet."

Okay now we're talking math and I haven't even had any tea, coffee, sugar... or breakfast.

Me, immediately dismissing the idea of 25 cubic feet: "That's too much."
Him, put out: "She said it's just what we need, you gave me the dimensions of the holes."
Me, stammering: "But... but... but we need 3' x 4' x 1' twice... that's..."

I quickly mentally multiplied 3x4 and got 12 and doubled it to find it was 24 cubic feet.

DAMMIT he was right!!! Oh no, this can't be good. Admitting hubby's right would be akin offering him carte blanche to gloat for the next month.

Me, meekly: "You're right."
Him, smugly: "Well okay then." I knew he was plotting ways to get even now.
Me, more awake than ever now that my foot was wedged in my mouth: "Don't gloat, it's ugly, and you're only right once a blue moon."
Him, laughing: "Must be a blue moon then."
Me, grimacing at the thought of what he's gonna be like when he gets home from work tonight: "Told ya gloating's ugly."

So we'll get a yard of dirt for our yard, the azaleas will be happy, I'll be happy we don't have dead trees in the front yard, and the neighbors will be happy that our front yard's not an eyesore anymore, and hubby will be happy cuz he gets to gloat on how he whipped my math hiney for once and was right (even though he didn't do the math himself AND he caught me unawares - I think I should get points for that and declare April the "Gloat-Free Month").

Yay, we're all happy. Now where's my caffeine...

hot... Hot... HOT!!!

I'll keep this short...

How do those little Totino's pizza rolls get so nuclear hot in the center? They're only in the freakin' over for a few minutes, it's not like they were set on fire or anything.

For that matter, how is it possible that French Bread Pizzas have the hottest cheese on top, so hot that even after sitting out for at least nine-point-five minutes, I can STILL burn away several layers of the roof of my mouth?

Or that cheese sandwich I made last night... it sat out for five-point-two minutes and it torched the inside of my mouth too. Humph. Okay maybe it was only one-point-zero minutes, you caught me, I'm impatient when it comes to cooked food.

You'd think (!!!) after all these years of doing the same stupid thing over and over again that I'd learn, right? No! Where's the fun in that?!

...a short blog because I need some numbing antiseptic for my mouth, LOL!

Men...

(note: this actually took place on Easter Sunday - not today)

Ever have a clarifying moment in time that truly defines the state of your marriage and ya just go "Wow... did I screw up or what?"

And no, I don't mean screw up by ME doing anything wrong, I meant HE did something wrong and I screwed up by thinking it wouldn't happen... again.

See it all started rather innocently. It always does, come to think of it. Then *wham*... Hubby Happens. I need a bumper sticker for that. Not "Doo-doo Happens"... I need "Hubby Happens". Other wives could probably relate.

Okay, back to the story, stick with me. He bought me a bottle of Martinelli's Sparkling Cider a while back. I love the stuff, but I don't drink it that much anymore (cuz it's carbonated, I have to wait till like half the fizz goes out once it's opened, long story but I don't drink carbonated things that much anymore), it's special. So it sat unopened for a little while, sue me... it won't go bad in a month or two... or even three. Then two nights ago I opened it, and over two days drank about half of it... slowly. Hey, I was savoring the treat, ya know?

Now if you're still with me, here's where it gets interesting:

Hubby knows he bought it for me.
Hubby saw it in the fridge.
Hubby knew we didn't have another bottle tucked away somewhere just in case he felt the urge to finish off the half of the bottle.
Hubby didn't pay diddly-squat to all of that.
Hubby lost what's left of his mind completely and drank it.

Hubby then hid the empty bottle so I wouldn't notice until this morning when I got up thinking "Oh... it's Easter. I'll make me some eggs ranchero for lunch/breakfast (guess that's brunch huh) and I'll have the rest of that bottle to go with it, that would taste really good!"

And you ladies know, when you wake up with a thought of something that sounds really good... it just has to be there. It's like a craving for chocolate... you get the craving, you have to have it. Or a craving for ice cream. Or whatever. Well I had a hankering for the rest of that sparkling cider.

So there I was, fixing the eggs: Then I muttered to myself as I headed to the fridge: "Eggs almost done, time to get the bottle of... ohhh... it's... it's... IT'S GONE!!! ACKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!! OH. NO. HE. DID. NOT!!!!"

I actually closed the fridge, looked around to MAKE SURE I was still in my kitchen, opened the fridge and stared at the empty spot. Looked through all the items in the fridge. Nope, no tall long-necked dark green bottle ANYWHERE!!!

That beastie DRANK THE REST OF THE CIDER!

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So I woke him up. He works graveyard, he's off tonight, I can do that. He'll just go back to sleep anyhow.

Me: "WhathappenedtotherestoftheMartinelli's?" (Like I don't know. Ha.)
Him: "Huh?"
Me: "Didyoudrinkit?"
Him: "Wha...?"
Me: "I said... whathappenedtotherestoftheMartinelli'sdidyoudrinkit?"
Him: "Oh... that."

He snored.

Me: "WAKE. UP."
Him: "Huh? Wha...?"

I repeated my questions rapid-fire. Eggs were cooling. I needed sparkling cider NOW. Hey... it was an epic crisis, fer cryin' out loud!!

Him: "Oh yeah... I drank it."
Me: "WHAT?! That was MINE!!"
Him, whining: "Well, there wasn't that much left..."
Me: "There was half a bottle!"
Him, trying to justify: "No there wasn't, there was like one fourth of a bottle, you'd already drunk three quarters of it."
Me, not buying it: "It was still mine, why'd you drink it?"
He almost looked like he was going to say, "Because it was there" but he didn't.
Him, sheepish: "Oh... well I didn't know you wanted the rest of it, so I finished it off."

SHEESH. Men.

Now of course, my eggs are done, no apple cider to be found. Craving's still there. So then I'm eating and he wants to come out to "talk". Not about the missing cider. Oh no, that would be too easy! He wants to tell me some story he made up while I'm eating my eggs sans cider about the Easter Bunny and the computer geek and the military guy. I wonder which one of us is the computer geek.

Gee I feel so special. Not.

Sooo... I screwed up because I thought that if he gave me a gift, then it was mine to use and I didn't have to label it or tell him "mitts off this". I shoulda known better, I shoulda put my freakin' name on it, sheesh.

*pout* I want my sparkling cider... it'll take a while to wear off the craving, maybe a chocolate bunny would work, LOL.

P.S. Two hours later, and 3 small Milky Way bunnies later... all's right with the world again, hehehehe. I'm not THAT pissed about the Martinelli's, most of that's just satire.