North, by the Lake

I spent the weekend looking at this view,  Reader.  And swimming in that pool. And dipping in the hot tub. 

At the end of September. In Northern Ohio. In September. Swimming. In an outdoor pool.

I want to reiterate that point, Reader.  

It was a weekend of cousins, sisters, friends. And wine. Don't forget the wine. It helped us overlook the forest that was growing on our legs. Because we live in Ohio and it's September. It's when we begin the burrowing process, to hunker through the winter. 

We had to shave up, because the sun was shining and the temp was 79 degrees and that's just plenty warm for Ohio girls to go swimming. We're hearty that way. Probably because the hairy legs keep us warm.

Lemme tell you what hurts.  Chlorine meeting freshly-shaved legs. That smarts.  But was so so worth it.  

Who Ya Gonna Call

So here's a ghost story for you, Reader. 

My paternal Great Grandmother Minerva died some years ago, and she's been known to haunt her house on occasion. That's not made up, but a fact. The woman who lives in her house has seen an apparition of a white-haired old lady watching her as she goes about various activities in the house - it's a watery vision, but apparent. I won't get into all the specifics, but I found out about this from my aunt earlier this year. 

At the time, I wanted to be haunted by Minerva! I felt left out of the hauntings for some reason. Yep, that's right. I wanted. To be haunted. Because I'm a dick with no brains, obviously. 

Anyway. My aunt gave me a framed photo of Minerva, because while I knew her, I was very young and had a hard time remembering her features. I got a little embroidered hanky that came from Minerva's, too. 

I set it on the big expanse of the top of the television and waited for my apparition to appear. 

It didn't. 

Fast forward to a month ago. My Mister and I went to Ikea to so a little home improvement shopping. While there,  I scored some shelves, perfect for an empty expanse of my living room. I'd been wanting shelves for that area for, oh, about 6 years or so. I obviously have to mull home improvements over for some time. 

I specifically wanted the shelves to display photos and knick-knacks we picked up from our travels. 

Shelves hung over the weekend. Items and knick-knacks displayed. Put up the hanky and photo of Minerva, which now sort of overlooks the room, and if you're standing by the stove/sink in the kitchen you can see her. 

I got out of bed the other night and went to get a glass of water. I stood at the fridge drinking it and looked up and saw that picture of Smiling Minerva staring at me. And then my hand bumped the little windchimes I have on the fridge, holding down the picture of my dead mother. The chimes rang - which my psychic says is the spirits making their presence known - but it was from me bumping it, that I know for sure. 

And then? I got the chills up my spine and my head started tingling and I squinted hard into the dark for Minerva. And then I got really scared and ran to the bedroom and woke Kenny up and told him the story of how I rang my own windchimes, got goose bumps and didn't see anything except a photo but I was sure there might be an apparition out there and I was frightened and what had I done calling the spirits??

He told me to shut the fuck up and go to bed. 

Which brings us to tonight. I was tiding up a pile of crap from the table and found a painted tile I picked up on vacation in Cozumel last March. I went to put it on the shelf, next to the photo of Minerva and between some other knick-knacks. 

That's when I noticed the center screw on the shelf was completely hanging out of it's hole. 

The very screw that My Mister screwed in with the held-held Bosch drill. 

I called for him. Inquired if we had indeed screwed that one in, or if we had forgotten, by chance? 

No, nope, he had done all of 'em, that he was certain. Because that one was even a little hard to get it and it really went in tight. 

So the screw that went in tight was now hanging by a thread. 

Minerva??

Even my skeptical Mister doesn't have a good explanation. He chalked it up to being, "odd." He even conceded it was Quite Odd. 

A screw just unscrews itself right from the heavy plaster wall. An outside wall. On a shelf high-up, unbothered by anyone. Yes, that is quite odd. 

Any carpenters out there have a rational explanation? 

Some Days Chicken....

Supper around these parts is a pretty rare thing. I mean, of course, the supper that we actually cook. In our own house. After working til all hours of the evening. Those suppers are a rare thing.

Tonight I got home at a reasonable hour. Reasonable enough that I was able to say pish-shaw to the errands I should be doing and instead had time to lay down and watch a little telly. I have to lay down in bed to watch it as we've moved the tv out of the living room in preparation for our new arrival.  Anyway. Laying down to watch tv? After a hard day at Tiny Town? Makes me just want to lay some more. 

My Mister called at 8:20, on his way home from his Card Mines, and wanted to know the supper scoop. I proudly proclaimed, "Tonight I shall cook!" 

Don't get excited. I meant some soup that was in the freezer and grilled cheese sammiches. 

And then he got home and I made the sammiches and they burnt a little bit, and I don't like them burnt so I had scrambled eggs instead. And even they weren't very good. 

I was all out of practice and off my game. 

We ate it, but we didn't necessarily enjoy it. 

.....Some Days Feathers. 

Something Old, Something New

I've been like a pioneer woman lately, Reader, all busy roughing it and whatnot. Because our dryer broke a couple of weeks ago, and even though the dryer decided to stop participating in life, clean undies must go on. Literally and figuratively. So I was washing and having to hang up the wash on the clotheslines in the basement and that makes the clothes hard and I don't really like hard clothes. 

I was prepared to see how long we could go on like old fashioned days here, but then I wanted to wash my $300 sheets and I didn't pay $300 to sleep on hard bamboo sheets, I want soft & fluffies to rest my head at night. Not to mention I don't think I have enough clothesline to hang 'em down there. 

So enough was enough and we went to buy a new dryer yesterday.

Only that became the debate of, "well, why don't we just get a new matching washer, the set is at least 15 years old?" So I longingly looked at new washers, too. 

Gas dryers are 'spensive, Reader.  Ditto on these new-fangled washers. 

So we keep looking, and found a $1300 gas dryer still in the packing, marked as an "Overstock Item" and for some reason deeply discounted to $749. It has a steam and fluff setting, Reader. 

I want my bedding steamed and fluffed! 

So we were all excited and said Yes to the dress. Er, the dryer. I've been watching too much TLC and too much Yes to The Dress, which when Kenny asked me what that show was about I summarized, "Girls who are getting married try on some dresses, cry about it and then pick one" and his head spun around a few times before he sputtered out, "And THAT is a show??" 

Yes, sadly, yes. It's a show, and I find myself watching it, but mostly when I'm peddling on the exercise bike at the gym and I've veered away from all the food shows. That's when I watch brides-to-be have a meltdown over picking a dress. 

Anyway. We said yes to a new dryer! And then we said yes to a new washer. They had me at "Large Sized Drum," Reader. I think I can fit my entire bed in it and just press wash and it'll come out clean and sanitized right before my eyes. Or something like that. 

We did not get the matching washer, because the matcher was a front loader and I'm not buying into that sales pitch. Front loaders have no benefits to me.  But we got the same brand in the same color so they will look like a matching set and p.s., who cares, they're in the basement. 

If it had only ended there, though. 

Then? I had some lust for a new stove. A flat-top cooktop type in white that will match the refrigerator.

I sort of hate our stove. It has the coil burners and a lot of shit falls in the drip pans and it's hard to clean and the burners don't sit straight so everything in the pan runs to the backend of it, and it's almond and doesn't match the fridge and I just basically don't like it. 

So we talked about a dealio on a new washer, dryer and stove. 

And then we went and looked at televisions, while we're in spending and free delivery mode.  

And that's how we ended up with a new 80" television being delivered next weekend.  It's all the dryer's fault.

But my living room?? Is going to look so very very spacious without the dinosaur that was parked in it for all these years.   We had a 65" HD tv, but it was the big-box variety and basically took up a mammoth amount of room. 

Kenny couldn't part with it, however. So now? That mammoth television is sitting in the recently cleaned out back room, that he has delusions will be a game room, but in reality will never be anything more than the place that collects shit until we get rid of it.  I've made my peace with it. It is what it is. 

But the rest of the house? Is going to look awesome. At least if you're looking at the t.v. 

It's How You Say It

At work today a vendor asked me if I knew of anyone that spells their name like I do. 

I have a unique-ish spelling, with a rogue "e" on the end.  Thanks, Mother. 

No, really. She was a name-unique speller before it was chic. 

And then my co-worker chimed in with the best memorable name ever.  

She recounted the story of the first day of class, and the teacher preemptively apologizing for any mispronounced names before proceeding to read down the list. 

He got to the name L-A.  Tried pronouncing it like the city, "LA", or like hardstop initials. 

Finally a girl raised her hand. 

"It's Ladasha. You pronounce the dash." 

Ladasha. 

Now don't you wish your parents had been more clever?  

Take The ARD Out

Sunday morning I was scanning the tube and saw Michelle Obama being interviewed by a slouchy dude on BET. He wasn't hunkered-down slouchy, more of the leaning-to-the-left slouchy. Perhaps his posture was supporting the First Lady. It looked more like he was trying out pick-up lines in a Jo Cool sort of way. 

Not normally the channel I land on, but I decided to stick for a while and see what was what. 

All was going fine, not a lot of in-depth stuff going on - tell me about Barack as a husband/father, your family faith, your platform of making the fatty fat American's not as fat.  

I was there, cool with it all for what it was. 

And then he said the stupidest fucking thing I've heard in a long time.  Paraphrasing, as I can't recount word-for-word, but the gist was:  "You're the First Lady. When people think of the First Lady, they think of the standard that's being set."

The First Lady is the Standard. - that part was fine. 

It was this part - not paraphrasing - that sat me upright, right up off of the cozy pillows of the hotel bed I was lounging away Sunday morning in: "And if you take the A-R-D out of Standard, you know what that stands for? A Righteous Dimension." 

And then his left shoulder slouched down a little lower and he sort of smirked while proclaiming A Righteous Dimension a few more times. 

I'll let that soak in for a moment, Reader. 

He said that. To the First Lady. Just plucking some letters out of a word and making up some shit. 

A Righteous Dimension lightly agreed with a "ummmmm hmmm" and a head nod. 

What her response should have been? "What. The fuck.  Are you even talking about?!" 

And my vote for her husband would have been cast immediately.  

That's Nacho Cheese

I just ate my weight in cheese popcorn, Reader. Cause I weigh, like, 14 oz. or something like that. 

And then when I was done with the cheese popcorn, I got to scrape the cheesy buildup from my fingertips with my front teeth, sort of like cheesy popcorn dessert.  And it  also served as an appetizer, as I'm waiting for the Hunter & Gatherer to bring home a dinner from The Bell. 

p.s. - I worked out tonight after a long long long day at Tiny Town. You'd think that I would be inspired to come home and eat a mango instead of the artificial cheesy goodness, but you'd be wrong. 

Did I mention that my gym has televisions lined up in front of all the stationary equipment and you can zone out while working out? And there's 12 of 'em lined up in front of the bikes I like to ride, and on the six telly's that are within my viewing range, two of them air food shows. WHILE WE'RE WORKING OUT. AFTER NOT EATING DINNER YET. Always, always while I've been here I've been subjected to Man vs. Food. Tonight? I wanted to leap off the bike and into the telly and join him as he consumed Mount Nachismo (a giant heap of nachos) with a kiddie-pool size of queso on 'em. 

I tried to divert my attention to the Long Island Medium, but I forgot my headphones and Man vs. Heartattack had the closed caption going, so that's what I focused in on.  And then wanted nachos and cheese and instead had cheesy popcorn while waiting for taco bell, so really, it's almost the same thing exactly. 

And that's that, as they say in show biz. 

Crickets.

~~chirp~~

When it's blog or go to bed before midnight, I choose bed. 

I realize how getting home late (7:30ish/8:00ish) leaves me very little time for fucking off.

I kind of miss fucking off. 

I miss it a lot. 

Just A LIttle Snippet of Life

I had a nice weekend, Reader. It was filled with relaxation and some visiting. No cleaning, and very little obligation things, so there is a lot of messy and little prep for the upcoming week. But I wouldn't change it one bit because I spent time with people and I liked that more than I like a sink without dishes in it. 

Today I visited a friend who's sick. I felt a little intrusive, so I hesitated to go and visit, but then realized that I was letting my thought that I may be bothering someone interfere with doing what I felt was important, which was seeing someone I care about. So I took some homemade soup and brownies and was happy to see her face. And was cautious not to overstay my welcome (ahem. Lance.) and I hope I didn't, but I really liked seeing her. She hasn't lost her sass.  

And then I went to visit my dad and it turned into a whole family visit. I got to meet my nephew's little girliefriendie and I proceeded to do what all Aunts are obligated to do - embarrass the hell out of him. I gave him advice on wooing, and small surprise gifting, and cleaning up his beard and getting new shoes and taking her out to fun places and writing her poetry and drawing her pictures and calling her  Sugarplum and Puddin'. 

He didn't appreciate my advice. 

Kids are so unappreciative these days.  

If You Have To Ask....

My Mister went hunting and gathering today. Specifically to see if corn was still in season so I can make corn chowder.  He went to our favorite corn-ery (a new made up word, wherein you buy corn. even if you're feeling ornery), and they were just taking fresh-made peach pies out of the oven and boxing them up for sale. 

He bought one.

And brought it home. 

And came in and asked, "I bought a peach pie, do you want a piece?" 

To which I replied, "You're bringing home still-hot-from-the-oven homemade peach pie and have to ask me if I want a piece?? You don't know me at all. Obviously."

Really. Who is this stranger I've been living with for eight years?? 

p.s. The pie? It's what heaven would taste like, if you were into licking heaven. 

Every Party Has a Pooper

I'm spending this Labor Day laboring. Around the house that is, and not out of my vagina.  

It makes me disgruntled before it makes me feel accomplished, let me assure you of that. 

I think our dryer heating element has stopped participating. I don't know if that's something that can be fixed, or if it means a whole new dryer. If it's not one thing, it's another. 

I cleaned up the mail steps and that took for. ever. Yes, you read that right, mail steps. We use the steps to sort out our mail because really, there isn't any place in here to do it anyway. But I at least wanted to make it look like an official "system" so I bought 3 wire baskets - his, mine and ours. Ours mostly consists of casino offers and the misc. coupon - but mostly casino offers. A whole basket of casino offers. That's a sad - or thrilling, depending upon perspective - view on my life.

And then that clean-up led to cleaning up the vestibule where you walk in the side of the house. I threw out this gross rug that My Mister's mother brought over. I want to be appreciative of the things she does, but more often than not we get something she's had gathering dust somewhere. This rug was one of those things, and it had the rubber backing just crumbling off and leaving a sand pile behind in it's wake. 

Now, here's my height of laziness. Ready for it? The rug entered the facility at least 4 years ago. And I've just ignored it rather than replace it.  Today was the time to work on the replace. 

We also have a somewhat sketchy white bookcase down there against the wall, and it collects Things. Primarily I like to keep things you might want to grab on the way out the door - an ice scraper, de-icer, gardening gloves, etc, but it just becomes a catch-all for all sorts of shit - naturally. An empty shelf soon fills up, I think it's physics. 

Well, the other day My Mister did something to that shelf and all the shit fell off it and of course he failed to really pick it up. So I did that today. One big bag of stuff on the bottom shelf is mine, a bag of books.  But it is a bookshelf, so really, it's not totally out of place. 

That took me so long to vacuum the hall, sort the mail, clean up the bookshelf, throw up the rug and mop the linoleum that I needed to take a shower and regroup. Which is what I'm doing now, regrouping. Maybe I'll treat myself to a little Judge Judy before I embark on Phase 2 of the house. I've been slowly clearing up inside the house, I was just a little sidetracked with the hallway. Because I picked up the wire baskets from the floor in here, and instead of waiting to do that later, I just did it. I'm not sure if that's a good cleaning method or not, as it got me off the original plan, but at least I have one thing I can check off the list.

Timothy (the dude downstairs, we live in a duplex)  offered to get me a corned beef sammich earlier. I declined as I was hot and sweaty and irritated cleaning up that common hallway, but now? I wish I had said sure. It would be good in my mouth right about now.

Oh, well. Wanna come over and not have a corned beef sammich with me and clean?? Anyone? Yoohoo?? 

No? Party pooper. 

Cuteness Overload

Kitten Cuteness #485: Waking up at some point in the middle of the night and realizing the kitten has put himself to bed in your arms. 

I wake up every night and find him under the covers nestled against me. 


Kenny was the lucky recipient of Cat Cuteness last night, and was so enchanted he had to take a blurry self-picture of himself with kitty. DJ (the cat, did I tell you that's his new and final name?) was sleeping so tightly against Kenny that he had fur up his nose.  Kenny, not the kitty. Although the kitty might have had fur up his  nose, too. 

He's an under-cover sleeper. Here he is peeping out at me, sleeping on my ample bosom with a blankie covering him up:

Needless to say, we heart him.

One Man's Treasure

We've been rearranging, Reader. I know, I know, you envy me. Don't. It's not as glamorous as it sounds. 

We started last weekend, or the weekend before. I'm not entirely sure, all I know is that I am disturbingly getting comfortable with walking through paths in my house, to plop my ass in my recliner. I'm almost able to block out the chaos around me. Almost. But this? Is more than likely how hoarders starts.  It's all too easy to just sort of ignore stuff and step over it. At least for me, I am pretty sure I have a hoarder gene. And that's sort of a contradiction, because I also have a black hefty trash bag and I'm pitching things out willy-nilly (not to be confused with willy nelson. I wonder how he'd pitch things out? probably whilst smoking up, which would make this shitty project just a tinch more enjoyable, I think). 

We cleared out everything in our spare room, and then started moving some bigger things back there. Kenny has plans that it's going to be his game room. Fine. We got the cocktail arcade table out of the dining room area, so that's a start. He also moved his keyboard back there, we moved one of the small dressers into our bedroom, and had to leave my hope chest because it's just too big and filled with heavy heavy hope, apparently, because sweet molasses, we strained our milk just trying to move it over to the side wall. There's a lot of crushed hopes in there, I think - the hopes are all weighted down, which is why that thing is so blasted heavy.  So it shall stay, 'neath the window. Or winda, as my mother pronounced it. 

My Mister came up with the plan o' organization, which is a little concerning because he's not really good at that.  We are to stack things in 4 piles: Keep, Toss, Donate, Sell. We have grand plans of raising a vacation amount of money by selling prized possessions on Ebay.   I had my first concern with this not going to work quite according to plan as I tried to put the foam Taco Bell hat in the "Toss" pile and he informed me that it was a "Keep," and I quote, "You know, for parties and stuff." 

Because I have no shame (at the moment), I give you this, a Keep, according to My Mister:

You see how it could be a little difficult to clean up around here? 

I shall get started on the pile making right after I blog and get a cup of tequila. Because that's the only thing that is going to get me through this.  Although I think the kitten (who, by the way, we've FINALLY AND OFFICIALLY named DJ. Because he has a loud sound system, with all his meowing and purring) is really going to have a good time with it all. Yep, I can see he's going to want to be my little help-purr.

I'd better get out the big bottle of tequila.