We're all still sad about JackieC's passing, but life marches forward.
Apparently quite quickly.
Prior to our trip, (nee Sojourn of Suffering), HannahC released her two toads into our deepest window well. She did this cuz she had found two other toads already in there. Then, she moved another toad from another window well into that one.
Today, we had three really skinny toads looking in the window. There really isn't enough food in one window well to support five toads. So I told HannahC to let some of the toads go.
Yeah.
Instead, she decided to use some of her money to buy a 40-gal. fishtank off Craigslist tonight, and she's going to do chores in order to earn enough money to keep a bunch of toads alive on crickets. Now, we're not even sure if all five toads are still alive, as we haven't found the other two. But this window well is 6 feet deep and has a metal grate over the top, so I know a predator didn't get them. There are a bunch of dirt areas that the toads like to dig into to bury themselves.
But that's not even the good part. No. It gets even better.
Though "better" is in the eye of the beholder.
Our first day back at the ranch (Sunday), HannahC and her 4-H entomology group had a field trip to see an entomology professor at Colorado State University. Apparently, it was a spectacularly good time.
So good that they had to get a doggie bag to take home some of the fun.
And what did HannahC's little baggie of fun contain?
A male and female pair of live giant Madagascar hissing cockroaches.
This is the point in the story where, if I were less refined, I would say, "I shit you not." But instead, you'll just get a certification of truthfulness. HannahC specifically chose a male and female so that she could breed them.
She also informed me that until "they're tame", they will kick and hiss if you try to pick them up. I have yet to succeed holding one, as when I grab a 3" cockroach and it starts kicking and hissing, well, I guess I just kinda feel compelled to set it right the hell back down again and try to stifle myself from yelling, "Muther f*&^*^er!"
Though, on occasion, an "oh sweet Jesus!" might slip.
Naturally, she moved the cockroaches into the old toad tank, as they need to be kept quite warm, and the toads had an electric heating rock. Thus today when the toads were starving, we had to get a whole new tank for them.
I imagine they'll need a much more elaborate heating system, too. One rock was for one toad. Five toads will probably need something bigger.
Oy.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
The Great Trip Summary
Being as that there were just so many bloggable moments on the trip, but I forgot them all, you're going to get a whirlwind photo tour. It turns out we didn't take all that many pictures, but I'm sure you'll live through it.
It's not like you care, after all.
We were in a race against the clock to assure we got to Barfalo in time to celebrate HannahC's 9th birthday. The plan had us arriving the evening prior, and we did not deviate from that plan. We also planned to go to Fantasy Island for her birthday, and we managed to do that, too. There had been some threatening weather, but it cleared up nicely. Uncle Locksmith rode a lot of barf rides with HannahC (and some I also rode, though I'm old and can't handle all that many like I used to when I was young - and no, before you ask, I don't look a thing like Jeeesus.). Auntie Ellie hung with The Mrs. and MaxieC on the kiddie rides.
That evening, we had a surprise party at a local chain restaurant. I can't exactly remember the name, but we did get this photo:
After that, things started to get very wedding-dominated. We were in town to attend the nuptials of Uncle Locksmith and former blogger Auntie Ellie (now Auntie Ellie Locksmith with no hyphen, but still a former blogger).
The Mrs. was one of the bridesmaids, and HannahC was the flower girl, and thus they all got to have manicures as part of the pre-wedding ritual. I believe this was HannahC's first formal manicure. This was done at some little day-spot place in a fancy-pants part of town where there was absolutely no parking to be found for miles and where The Mrs. decided I could just sit in the no-standing zone for hours while she yakked it up with passersby after she called me to "hurry my sorry ass up and pick them up".
Give or take.
I don't have any pictures of the wedding as I was simply crying my eyes out. I always cry at weddings on account of them being so tragically sad. Dr. Kevorkian must be a real heartless bastard to be able to attend so many such things.
But, afterwards, there was a party. I did manage to take a couple photos there, as there was an open bar of sorts. Here are the womensfolk of The Mrs.'s clan. On the left is Gordy, The Mrs.'s hillbilly brother's wife, then The Mrs., and then The Mrs.'s sister Auntie Ellie. Oddly for a wedding, despite looking happy in this picture, none of them are drunk.
Of course, the obligatory Chicken Dance photo. HannahC and MaxieC, being small childrens, are forgiven for their participation.
Here is Me, CherkyB fixing my hair after a long stint out on the dance floor. I worked up quite a sweat dancing like nobody was watching. But of course, everybody was watching. The CherkyB is quite a spectacle in person. I had to take a break when The Mrs.'s hillbilly brother, 'Billy, started doing a dance he called "scooping the cat poo".
Apparently, he does most of the cooking.
Days later, of course, I had to listen to a half-hearted lecture from my father about how I drank too much at the wedding. My dancing often gives people the impression that I am rightiously drunk, but as I like to 'splain, that's just how I look when I'm happy. If I was rightiously drunk, I'd be falling down a lot and belligerant.
Or, at the minimum, I'd being doing a lot of one-liners about your momma.
No, despite there being an open bar, CherkyB did not manage to even get much of a buzz on. The drinks came in 4oz. glasses which were filled to the brim with ice. Then maybe a thimble full of some nasty well liquor was added, and the glass topped off with coke or tonic or whatever. Unless one ordered 4 or 5 of these at a time, it was impossible to get a proper drink.
But, naturally, with both The Mrs.'s fambly and my fambly there, and both having prepped for weeks to tsk-tsk me about my drinking given that I am the last bastion of fun in either fambly, I couldn't very much walk away from the bar with a handful of these little doll tea party glasses. So I buried my grief (as I said earlier, I find weddings to be tragically sad) with endorphins released by getting my groove on on the dance floor.
Of course, the end result was the same. Tsk tsk.
A few days later, we hit Fort Niagara. This is the fort in NY State that is at the mouth of the Niagara River where it joins Lake Ontario and, until very recently, was the only defense that we had against belligerant Canadians.
Now, of course, Canadians aren't allowed to own guns, so they are no longer a threat to anyone other than people who consider fine cuisine to be a way of life. So Fort Niagara is a tourist trap where people go to take photos of their kids with cannons.
That particular picture was taken in the south gatehouse where the on-site guide gave us such illuminating gems as, "This is where the soldiers slept, like all next to each other. And those are shelves where they, like, kept their things and stuff. Upstairs, you can see Toronto."
One of the more interesting things was the three flags flying in the courtyard. You can see the Union Jack, Old Glory, and the solid-white surrender flag.
Wondering why the white surrender flag was up there, I opened up the handy-dandy self-guided tour pamphlet they gave us upon entry. It said,
After our visit in Barfalo, we headed up to the Milwaukee area to visit my brother and his wife. Finding Wisconsin isn't too hard. You just follow any one of these:
We went to Mauthe Lake in Kettle Moraine for a nice picnic and some canoeing and swimming. Well, more standing around in the water than swimming.
On the way home from Wisconsin, we waved at the "Janesville" exit and yelled, "Hi, Rhonda." Just like we did last year. We stopped in Elk Horn, Iowa for lunch. Elk Horn is famous for having The Danish Windmill.
Then we spent my birthday at the Coco Key Water Resort at the Holiday Inn in Ohama. I don't have any pictures of that, as only a moron takes a camera to a water park.
It's not like you care, after all.
We were in a race against the clock to assure we got to Barfalo in time to celebrate HannahC's 9th birthday. The plan had us arriving the evening prior, and we did not deviate from that plan. We also planned to go to Fantasy Island for her birthday, and we managed to do that, too. There had been some threatening weather, but it cleared up nicely. Uncle Locksmith rode a lot of barf rides with HannahC (and some I also rode, though I'm old and can't handle all that many like I used to when I was young - and no, before you ask, I don't look a thing like Jeeesus.). Auntie Ellie hung with The Mrs. and MaxieC on the kiddie rides.
That evening, we had a surprise party at a local chain restaurant. I can't exactly remember the name, but we did get this photo:
After that, things started to get very wedding-dominated. We were in town to attend the nuptials of Uncle Locksmith and former blogger Auntie Ellie (now Auntie Ellie Locksmith with no hyphen, but still a former blogger).
The Mrs. was one of the bridesmaids, and HannahC was the flower girl, and thus they all got to have manicures as part of the pre-wedding ritual. I believe this was HannahC's first formal manicure. This was done at some little day-spot place in a fancy-pants part of town where there was absolutely no parking to be found for miles and where The Mrs. decided I could just sit in the no-standing zone for hours while she yakked it up with passersby after she called me to "hurry my sorry ass up and pick them up".
Give or take.
I don't have any pictures of the wedding as I was simply crying my eyes out. I always cry at weddings on account of them being so tragically sad. Dr. Kevorkian must be a real heartless bastard to be able to attend so many such things.
But, afterwards, there was a party. I did manage to take a couple photos there, as there was an open bar of sorts. Here are the womensfolk of The Mrs.'s clan. On the left is Gordy, The Mrs.'s hillbilly brother's wife, then The Mrs., and then The Mrs.'s sister Auntie Ellie. Oddly for a wedding, despite looking happy in this picture, none of them are drunk.
Of course, the obligatory Chicken Dance photo. HannahC and MaxieC, being small childrens, are forgiven for their participation.
Here is Me, CherkyB fixing my hair after a long stint out on the dance floor. I worked up quite a sweat dancing like nobody was watching. But of course, everybody was watching. The CherkyB is quite a spectacle in person. I had to take a break when The Mrs.'s hillbilly brother, 'Billy, started doing a dance he called "scooping the cat poo".
Apparently, he does most of the cooking.
Days later, of course, I had to listen to a half-hearted lecture from my father about how I drank too much at the wedding. My dancing often gives people the impression that I am rightiously drunk, but as I like to 'splain, that's just how I look when I'm happy. If I was rightiously drunk, I'd be falling down a lot and belligerant.
Or, at the minimum, I'd being doing a lot of one-liners about your momma.
No, despite there being an open bar, CherkyB did not manage to even get much of a buzz on. The drinks came in 4oz. glasses which were filled to the brim with ice. Then maybe a thimble full of some nasty well liquor was added, and the glass topped off with coke or tonic or whatever. Unless one ordered 4 or 5 of these at a time, it was impossible to get a proper drink.
But, naturally, with both The Mrs.'s fambly and my fambly there, and both having prepped for weeks to tsk-tsk me about my drinking given that I am the last bastion of fun in either fambly, I couldn't very much walk away from the bar with a handful of these little doll tea party glasses. So I buried my grief (as I said earlier, I find weddings to be tragically sad) with endorphins released by getting my groove on on the dance floor.
Of course, the end result was the same. Tsk tsk.
A few days later, we hit Fort Niagara. This is the fort in NY State that is at the mouth of the Niagara River where it joins Lake Ontario and, until very recently, was the only defense that we had against belligerant Canadians.
Now, of course, Canadians aren't allowed to own guns, so they are no longer a threat to anyone other than people who consider fine cuisine to be a way of life. So Fort Niagara is a tourist trap where people go to take photos of their kids with cannons.
That particular picture was taken in the south gatehouse where the on-site guide gave us such illuminating gems as, "This is where the soldiers slept, like all next to each other. And those are shelves where they, like, kept their things and stuff. Upstairs, you can see Toronto."
One of the more interesting things was the three flags flying in the courtyard. You can see the Union Jack, Old Glory, and the solid-white surrender flag.
Wondering why the white surrender flag was up there, I opened up the handy-dandy self-guided tour pamphlet they gave us upon entry. It said,
"Flying in the courtyard are the British, American, and French flags, representing the three countries that have controlled the fort during its existence."OK, now I get why the white flag is flying.
After our visit in Barfalo, we headed up to the Milwaukee area to visit my brother and his wife. Finding Wisconsin isn't too hard. You just follow any one of these:
We went to Mauthe Lake in Kettle Moraine for a nice picnic and some canoeing and swimming. Well, more standing around in the water than swimming.
On the way home from Wisconsin, we waved at the "Janesville" exit and yelled, "Hi, Rhonda." Just like we did last year. We stopped in Elk Horn, Iowa for lunch. Elk Horn is famous for having The Danish Windmill.
Then we spent my birthday at the Coco Key Water Resort at the Holiday Inn in Ohama. I don't have any pictures of that, as only a moron takes a camera to a water park.
Monday, July 20, 2009
RIP, JackieC
Well, today was the day we had been expecting for a while. HannahC's delightful pet rat finally reached the point of no return, losing her ability to walk, stand, or eat, and The Mrs. took her for her last ride to the vet.
The vet and staff had seen quite a lot of JackieC over the last few months, and they were a bit attached to her as well. They made HannahC a little keepsake clay heart on which they inscribed "Jackie" and did an impression of her front pawprints.
It was a very teary day.
The vet and staff had seen quite a lot of JackieC over the last few months, and they were a bit attached to her as well. They made HannahC a little keepsake clay heart on which they inscribed "Jackie" and did an impression of her front pawprints.
It was a very teary day.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Smooth
I'll have a trip wrap-up written sometime before the next trip. In the mean time, you get a Certified True story to keep you entertained.
We arrived home safely at about 6pm yesterday after two weeks of travel. I had set the A/C to 85 degrees while we were gone, since nobody (not even pets) was in the house. Naturally, we had a heat wave, so when we got home all tired, the first floor of the house was 85 degrees, with the second floor (where all the bedrooms are) being 90. My A/C is marginal at best, so even with a judicious application of the whole house fan plus a reasonable cool-off once the sun went down, by the time bedtime rolled around, the upstairs had cooled to 80.
The decision was made to sleep in the basement, which was somewhere in the high 60's, I think, in terms of temperature. HannahC had a head cold, and the gain in elevation had caused her quite a bit of suffering, so she crashed out on the couch in the basement. MaxieC slept on a cushion that was occupying the space where the guinea pigs would normally have been. The Mrs. and I got the spare room.
The Mrs. decided to screw around for a while on the compooter, as she was starved for it. I had brought my laptop along, and thus I had a half hour of internet when we were at hotels, and on occasion had some at my parents' or Ellie's, so I wasn't jonesing as badly as she was.
I hit the sack.
At some point, I released some excess methane pressure that had been building up inside. I went right back to sleep.
About 20 minutes later, The Mrs. came to bed. When she lifted the covers, she exclaimed, "Oh geeze!" and then stumbled out of bed to turn on the big giant fan we have down there (required for when her hillbilly brother visits, as he's used to sleeping outdoors). And then the stank hit me. I misdirected:
We arrived home safely at about 6pm yesterday after two weeks of travel. I had set the A/C to 85 degrees while we were gone, since nobody (not even pets) was in the house. Naturally, we had a heat wave, so when we got home all tired, the first floor of the house was 85 degrees, with the second floor (where all the bedrooms are) being 90. My A/C is marginal at best, so even with a judicious application of the whole house fan plus a reasonable cool-off once the sun went down, by the time bedtime rolled around, the upstairs had cooled to 80.
The decision was made to sleep in the basement, which was somewhere in the high 60's, I think, in terms of temperature. HannahC had a head cold, and the gain in elevation had caused her quite a bit of suffering, so she crashed out on the couch in the basement. MaxieC slept on a cushion that was occupying the space where the guinea pigs would normally have been. The Mrs. and I got the spare room.
The Mrs. decided to screw around for a while on the compooter, as she was starved for it. I had brought my laptop along, and thus I had a half hour of internet when we were at hotels, and on occasion had some at my parents' or Ellie's, so I wasn't jonesing as badly as she was.
I hit the sack.
At some point, I released some excess methane pressure that had been building up inside. I went right back to sleep.
About 20 minutes later, The Mrs. came to bed. When she lifted the covers, she exclaimed, "Oh geeze!" and then stumbled out of bed to turn on the big giant fan we have down there (required for when her hillbilly brother visits, as he's used to sleeping outdoors). And then the stank hit me. I misdirected:
Me, CherkyB: "Did you fart?"And it did, too.
The Mrs.: "No. You did."
Me, CherkyB: "I don't think it could have been me. I don't think anything could make that kind of a stink and still be alive. That smells like death."
Thursday, July 09, 2009
SoS, Days 3-5
We arrived safely. So much activity, and so little internet availability. I only have internet when visiting my parents or Ellie (who we don't ever visit). So I get about a half hour every couple days to actually use it on account of we're visiting the rest of the time.
Yesterday was HannahC's birthday. We went to Martin's Fantasy Island in the afternoon, then had a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese's in the evening. A good time was had by all. I have had a splitting headache ever since, though.
Tomorrow is Ellie's rehearsal dinner/picnic, and then it's the wedding on Saturday.
No barfing as of yet.
Yesterday was HannahC's birthday. We went to Martin's Fantasy Island in the afternoon, then had a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese's in the evening. A good time was had by all. I have had a splitting headache ever since, though.
Tomorrow is Ellie's rehearsal dinner/picnic, and then it's the wedding on Saturday.
No barfing as of yet.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Monday, July 06, 2009
SoS, Day 2
Opportunity squandered.
We decided to sleep in until 7 this morning as we had a "much shorter" day ahead of us.
Much shorter" in this case being about 1.5 hours less driving. Of course, a lot of that driving would be in areas east of the Mississippi - meaning decrepit roads with endless construction zones where nobody seems to actually fix anything but instead merely tears it apart more, and toll boths galore. Thus, we decided to get up only an hour later than we had the first morning.
Nothing like burning 2/3 of your margin before the opening bell.
'Course, we were already packed the first morning, and we had to re-pack everything today. That only took about a half hour, though.
And then we spent a half hour eating breakfast.
And, for some reason, today we had multiple potty emergencies (including one of my own - lunch at Denny's was maybe a bit greasy) and ended up stopping roughly once every hour.
Then since we weren't in a hurry, we went on a leisurely 20 minute bug hunt at our first stop. HannahC is collecting bugs for a 4H project.
And we played at a playground for half an hour at another stop.
The bridge over the Mississippi on I-80 is closed, so we had to detour.
All in all, we managed to arrive at our hotel in Maumee, OH, tonight about 2.5 hours later than we rolled in to our hotel yesterday. Quite a feat given how much shorter the trip was today.
At least I can keep an eye on my truck. You can go here, click the "Check you vehicle here" spot in the upper right, and then look for vehicle 26936. Oddly, I can't find a direct link for that as it appears to be a dynamically generated page. Doesn't look like they've done anything yet, but my status is now, "Vehicle is being dis-assembled." I suppose that's better than nothing.
We decided to sleep in until 7 this morning as we had a "much shorter" day ahead of us.
Much shorter" in this case being about 1.5 hours less driving. Of course, a lot of that driving would be in areas east of the Mississippi - meaning decrepit roads with endless construction zones where nobody seems to actually fix anything but instead merely tears it apart more, and toll boths galore. Thus, we decided to get up only an hour later than we had the first morning.
Nothing like burning 2/3 of your margin before the opening bell.
'Course, we were already packed the first morning, and we had to re-pack everything today. That only took about a half hour, though.
And then we spent a half hour eating breakfast.
And, for some reason, today we had multiple potty emergencies (including one of my own - lunch at Denny's was maybe a bit greasy) and ended up stopping roughly once every hour.
Then since we weren't in a hurry, we went on a leisurely 20 minute bug hunt at our first stop. HannahC is collecting bugs for a 4H project.
And we played at a playground for half an hour at another stop.
The bridge over the Mississippi on I-80 is closed, so we had to detour.
All in all, we managed to arrive at our hotel in Maumee, OH, tonight about 2.5 hours later than we rolled in to our hotel yesterday. Quite a feat given how much shorter the trip was today.
At least I can keep an eye on my truck. You can go here, click the "Check you vehicle here" spot in the upper right, and then look for vehicle 26936. Oddly, I can't find a direct link for that as it appears to be a dynamically generated page. Doesn't look like they've done anything yet, but my status is now, "Vehicle is being dis-assembled." I suppose that's better than nothing.
Sojourn of Suffering - Day 1
In general an uneventful day. I started out taking pictures of each state, as The Mrs. decided to do some of the driving, but after two states (Colorado and Wyoming), I ended up driving.
We hit some fog in Wyoming, which is better than the Blizzard we hit in Nebraska last year. It wasn't particularly dense fog (visibility was about 1/4 mile), but it was enough to freak out The Mrs., who has apparently never driven in fog on the highway. She developed this habit of every time she got close enough to just see the back of a vehicle in front (remember- a 1/4 mile in front) she would slam on the brakes. When I queried as to why this was, she said, "I need to slow down until I determine how far away it is."
This is why it used to be illegal for women to have drivers licenses.
Only two other things of note happened on the trip.
First, shortly after I started driving in Nebraska, I passed a little red car with Colorado plates. The ladies in the car got very excited that we also had Colorado plates, so a little later, they zoomed up next to us and started waving. So I waved back.
The Mrs., naturally, was infuriated by this. She began to berate me for, apparently, hitting on girls in another car (Visions of Christie Brinkley in a red Ferrari on National Lampoon's Vacation, I imagine). Then, an SUV passed us, and The Mrs. said, "There - why don't you wave at her, too? Oh, she's fat. I see. You don't wave at the fat ones?"
Sigh.
Later, The Childrens were watching Ghostbusters on the DVD (and hating it), when The Mrs. heard the voice of Bill Murray.
We hit some fog in Wyoming, which is better than the Blizzard we hit in Nebraska last year. It wasn't particularly dense fog (visibility was about 1/4 mile), but it was enough to freak out The Mrs., who has apparently never driven in fog on the highway. She developed this habit of every time she got close enough to just see the back of a vehicle in front (remember- a 1/4 mile in front) she would slam on the brakes. When I queried as to why this was, she said, "I need to slow down until I determine how far away it is."
This is why it used to be illegal for women to have drivers licenses.
Only two other things of note happened on the trip.
First, shortly after I started driving in Nebraska, I passed a little red car with Colorado plates. The ladies in the car got very excited that we also had Colorado plates, so a little later, they zoomed up next to us and started waving. So I waved back.
The Mrs., naturally, was infuriated by this. She began to berate me for, apparently, hitting on girls in another car (Visions of Christie Brinkley in a red Ferrari on National Lampoon's Vacation, I imagine). Then, an SUV passed us, and The Mrs. said, "There - why don't you wave at her, too? Oh, she's fat. I see. You don't wave at the fat ones?"
Sigh.
Later, The Childrens were watching Ghostbusters on the DVD (and hating it), when The Mrs. heard the voice of Bill Murray.
The Mrs.: "Childrens, that man talking right now is named Bill Murray. He is one of the best comic actors of all time."
Me, CherkyB: "Billy Murray?"
The Mrs.: "Yes. He's a genius."
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Prep Work
As you all don't know, we're heading on a road trip in the near future in order to attend Miss Ellie's wedding. This will entail three days of driving to get there, as Miss Ellie is getting married in East Bumblyburg, and there are no airports within a thousand miles of there. Give or take.
Part of getting ready for a long road trip is to clean the vehicle in which you will travel. In this case, the winivan. Now, my childrens, darling as they are, seem to believe that the only difference between a floor and a garbage can is that you can also walk on a floor. Plus, a floor is generally a lot closer. When this philosophy is extended to winivans, well, it can get a bit sticky.
We removed all the "gear" that The Mrs. insists on hauling with her wherever she goes lest any kind of an opportunity present itself for which appropriate gear is not immediately at hand. What I refer to as "the mobile garage sale". The small junk got piled into a laundry basket.
This is problematic. We seem to regularly use laundry baskets to pile junk whenever we're cleaning something, and this cuts substantially down on the baskets available for actually doing laundry. We've had to cut back to just one load of laundry per week because of this problem. Though this morning MacieC put away the socks that were washed three weeks ago and had been left in a basket ever since, so perhaps we'll be able to do two loads a week now.
This laundry basket of junk was then placed in the hallway connecting the garage to the house so that I could trip over it about 6 times during the ensuing cleaning of the winivan.
I took out the seats (which, I must admit, I had only done once before in this van, and I had to check the manual to figure out where they hid away the latch release), and underneath was quite a bit of flotsam. Gooey flotsam. Perhaps what were once gummy bears, some nerds, a spoon from Cold Stone, and some fries with that.
The van got vacuumed, the carpet and mats got shampooed, everything on the inside cleaned, with the leather also getting conditioner applied. Then we washed and waxed the outside. I tried this new Turtle Wax "Ice" polish. It worked pretty well. I got the kind that you can use on paint, chrome, rubber, plastic, whatever, and it won't leave white residue. That definitely worked.
The whole process took about 6 hours. We even had to make a trip to Wal-Mart in the middle cuz we were out of car cleaning products. Now that the van is so fresh and clean, it's a shame to allow the fambly into it. Maybe I'll make them drive around in my pickup all week, and I'll take the van to and from work so that it stays clean.
Part of getting ready for a long road trip is to clean the vehicle in which you will travel. In this case, the winivan. Now, my childrens, darling as they are, seem to believe that the only difference between a floor and a garbage can is that you can also walk on a floor. Plus, a floor is generally a lot closer. When this philosophy is extended to winivans, well, it can get a bit sticky.
We removed all the "gear" that The Mrs. insists on hauling with her wherever she goes lest any kind of an opportunity present itself for which appropriate gear is not immediately at hand. What I refer to as "the mobile garage sale". The small junk got piled into a laundry basket.
This is problematic. We seem to regularly use laundry baskets to pile junk whenever we're cleaning something, and this cuts substantially down on the baskets available for actually doing laundry. We've had to cut back to just one load of laundry per week because of this problem. Though this morning MacieC put away the socks that were washed three weeks ago and had been left in a basket ever since, so perhaps we'll be able to do two loads a week now.
This laundry basket of junk was then placed in the hallway connecting the garage to the house so that I could trip over it about 6 times during the ensuing cleaning of the winivan.
I took out the seats (which, I must admit, I had only done once before in this van, and I had to check the manual to figure out where they hid away the latch release), and underneath was quite a bit of flotsam. Gooey flotsam. Perhaps what were once gummy bears, some nerds, a spoon from Cold Stone, and some fries with that.
The van got vacuumed, the carpet and mats got shampooed, everything on the inside cleaned, with the leather also getting conditioner applied. Then we washed and waxed the outside. I tried this new Turtle Wax "Ice" polish. It worked pretty well. I got the kind that you can use on paint, chrome, rubber, plastic, whatever, and it won't leave white residue. That definitely worked.
The whole process took about 6 hours. We even had to make a trip to Wal-Mart in the middle cuz we were out of car cleaning products. Now that the van is so fresh and clean, it's a shame to allow the fambly into it. Maybe I'll make them drive around in my pickup all week, and I'll take the van to and from work so that it stays clean.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Odd
It's hot and humid in my cubicle this morning. I wonder if they managed to break the first floor air handler when they fixed the second floor's yesterday.
Monday, June 15, 2009
CherkyB, Marriage Counselor
Recently, a Sprouts "Farmer's Market" opened up near us. I put "Farmer's Market" in quotes, as I sure as hell can't tell the difference between this place and a Whole Foods other than that this place seems to have very good prices. It certainly isn't a bunch of guys in a parking lot selling food out of the back of their pickups.
But, as happens with any new market of this sort that opens up, it has unleashed The Mrs.'s inner Bohemian self. The one she tries to hide when I'm around, lest I be moved to perform an exorcism or hand her a Dr. Laura book or some such. It's not so much that I mind that deep down inside she has these trite and entirely predictable white, upper-middle-class pretensions (she did go to music conservatory, after all), or even that I really object to her spending my money on them - one forfeits the right to object to one's spouses frivolities when one says, "I do." No, it's that I object to being inconvenienced by them.
Case in point, today I went to put the iced tea into the refrigerator, as I do every day when I come home from work. You see, I prefer my iced tea cold, and thus I keep it in the refrigerator. The Mrs. prefers her iced tea cold as well, and in addition, she doesn't like ice in it. Thus, she keeps it on the kitchen counter. Well, I suspect that the real reason is the same reason everything we own is piled on the kitchen counter - people just can't seem to make the time to put anything away around here.
However, today was different, as when I open the fridge it was full. Completely full. And right where I was going to put the iced tea there sat a bottle of kefir. "Kefir?" you ask, as no one who would have any kind of Bohemian traits would ever spend time around these parts. Well, other than the one who is prone to head injuries, perhaps.
Well, I didn't know WTF kefir was either, so I had to look it up. I'll save you the trouble of hitting the link - kefir is an age-old drink invented in the Caucasus region (you know, the motherland where all white people came from) that consists of some vile concoction made from kefir grains soaked in fermented goat's blood. There is, however, no kefir plant from which kefir grains come. Why, they're not a "grain" at all in the classical starch-family sense. Noooo. It gets even better.
So, as we're sitting down to dinner, right after I failed to secure cold storage for the iced tea, I was making fun of The Mrs. for buying kefir. This is what I do to let her know I disapprove of her antics. She gets quite angry if I outright ban her from such foolishness, much like a petulant teenager told not to date The Bad Boy. After a while of her defending the indefensible, she finally whined that I criticize her too much in front of The Childrens.
HannahC then yelled, "Deeeevorce!"
MaxieC inquired as to what this divorce was, as it's not something he had heard discussed prior. So, being the great father that I am, I 'splained it to him.
The Mrs. then chimed in about how it would be preferable if they were both from the same surgeon, and much mirth ensued.
That, dear readers, is a veritable clinic in both parenting and husbanding. I invite you to read it again and again and bask in its wisdom.
But, as happens with any new market of this sort that opens up, it has unleashed The Mrs.'s inner Bohemian self. The one she tries to hide when I'm around, lest I be moved to perform an exorcism or hand her a Dr. Laura book or some such. It's not so much that I mind that deep down inside she has these trite and entirely predictable white, upper-middle-class pretensions (she did go to music conservatory, after all), or even that I really object to her spending my money on them - one forfeits the right to object to one's spouses frivolities when one says, "I do." No, it's that I object to being inconvenienced by them.
Case in point, today I went to put the iced tea into the refrigerator, as I do every day when I come home from work. You see, I prefer my iced tea cold, and thus I keep it in the refrigerator. The Mrs. prefers her iced tea cold as well, and in addition, she doesn't like ice in it. Thus, she keeps it on the kitchen counter. Well, I suspect that the real reason is the same reason everything we own is piled on the kitchen counter - people just can't seem to make the time to put anything away around here.
However, today was different, as when I open the fridge it was full. Completely full. And right where I was going to put the iced tea there sat a bottle of kefir. "Kefir?" you ask, as no one who would have any kind of Bohemian traits would ever spend time around these parts. Well, other than the one who is prone to head injuries, perhaps.
Well, I didn't know WTF kefir was either, so I had to look it up. I'll save you the trouble of hitting the link - kefir is an age-old drink invented in the Caucasus region (you know, the motherland where all white people came from) that consists of some vile concoction made from kefir grains soaked in fermented goat's blood. There is, however, no kefir plant from which kefir grains come. Why, they're not a "grain" at all in the classical starch-family sense. Noooo. It gets even better.
"Production of traditional kefir requires kefir grains which are a gelatinous community of bacteria and yeasts."Bleaaaugh. But wait, there's more:
"Kefir grains contain a water soluble polysaccharide known as kefiran that imparts a rope-like texture and feeling in one's mouth."Add "salty" to that description, and you are talking about something that The Mrs. won't allow anywhere near her mouth. At least not since we got married. But gulp this stuff down she does. And why? Well, because it has magical New Age healing properties and is all the rage amongst the Bohemian crowd right now.
So, as we're sitting down to dinner, right after I failed to secure cold storage for the iced tea, I was making fun of The Mrs. for buying kefir. This is what I do to let her know I disapprove of her antics. She gets quite angry if I outright ban her from such foolishness, much like a petulant teenager told not to date The Bad Boy. After a while of her defending the indefensible, she finally whined that I criticize her too much in front of The Childrens.
HannahC then yelled, "Deeeevorce!"
MaxieC inquired as to what this divorce was, as it's not something he had heard discussed prior. So, being the great father that I am, I 'splained it to him.
Me, CherkyB: "You see, son, divorce is when we sell the house, then you two kids and mommy move into a trailer, while I move into an apartment and get myself a hot young girlfriend. Then you'll come over every other weekend and Thursday nights, and I'll tell you that she's your new mommy."The Childrens then proceeded to fashion big boobs to attach to the vegetables out of other vegetables. MaxieC used two pieces of baby corn after I rejected his initial attempt at using only one piece of corn with, "No, she needs two symmetric big boobs. Not one giant boob in the middle."
MaxieC: "Why would you want a hot, young girlfriend?"
Me, CherkyB: "Ohhh. Because that's the best kind of girlfriend. ... Well, it helps if she's dumb, too. The dumber the better."
HannahC: "Momma's not dumb."
Me, CherkyB: "No. Not at all. That's a large part of the problem. She thinks I care what she thinks. That's why you want a dumb girlfriend."
HannahC: [holding up a bean from her side of mixed vegetables] "This bean is young and hot and dumb. This bean is your new girlfriend."
Me, CherkyB: "No. That bean could never be my girlfriend. It doesn't have big boobs."
MaxieC: [holding up broccoli] "This can be your girlfriend."
Me, CherkyB: "No. Again, no big boobs. Gotta have big boobs."
The Mrs. then chimed in about how it would be preferable if they were both from the same surgeon, and much mirth ensued.
That, dear readers, is a veritable clinic in both parenting and husbanding. I invite you to read it again and again and bask in its wisdom.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Well, That Sucked
Those of you who follow along my facebook account know that yesterday, we went fishing (for the first time this season) and got basically shut out. But wait, there's more to that story...
HannahC had been talking about going fishing for months now. She loves the fishing. During one of our many tornado warnings this month, I replaced the line on her spincasting reel and on MaxieC's as well. I also cleaned and lubed them. Our tornado warnings last quite a while, though we've yet to see a tornado this year near by. We've had 6 or 7 within 50 miles, but nothing really close.
Saturday morning, I started loading up the truck with fishing gear. The Mrs. and MaxieC had decided that they were going, and that means that quite a bit more gear is required. For instance, they require folding chairs, drinks, snacks, moist towelettes, and sunscreen. HannahC and I require fishing poles, a tackle box, and maybe a cooler if we think we're going to be keeping anything.
One of the troubles with going Saturday morning was that we didn't have worms nor did The Mrs. have her fishing license. So we planned a quick trip to Ace Hardware where both are available. However, The Mrs. never allows an opportunity for blackmail to pass, so she put all kinds of pre-conditions that had to be met prior to us leaving. Most involved homework or 4H project work. The end result of this was that we left our house at 11:45 and still had to go to the store for worms and a license.
Of course, there aren't any fish at all that bite from noon until 4 around here. The sun is too bright. One baby bluegill was caught by MaxieC, and that was it. So, The Mrs. vowed that we would go in the early morning today.
Riiiiiiight.
I knew this was going to go horribly wrong the minute The Mrs. described her plans for the night. She said that The Childrens would need to go to bed early so that they could get up early to fish, and then as soon as they went to bed, we would watch one of her godawful moovies. Well, she may not have said godawful, but when The Mrs. picks a moovie, that's about the best you can hope for.
She got HannahC to bed by 10:55pm, and then we started The Mrs.'s moovie. It was Doubt, and it was horrible. Very plodding, effectively no sub-plots whatsoever. I don't understand why anyone would think this was a decent moovie (though it gets 7.8/10 on IMDB). One of the more annoying aspects of it was the fact that it was ostensibly about a Catholic priest suspected of molesting a boy (wow - very original plot there), but it was riddled with Protestant terminology. Newsflash - Catholic churches do not have "pastors". Because of this, it made it feel like some ignorant left-wing screed against Catholicism as opposed to a drama.
Finally, this horrible thing wrapped up, but by then it was close to 1am. 1am is not when one goes to bed if one plans to go on an early morning fishing expedition.
We got fishing around 10am today. Not at all unpredictable, but a pretty lousy time to go nonetheless.
The Mrs. caught the only keeper - a 6" bluegill. I spent much of the day either baiting hooks for The Childrens or trying to catch a big catfish (or a medium carp) using first Vienna sausages and then bluegill guts at bait. MaxieC caught about 12 bluegill, the biggest being about 3". In three months, this pond will be great.
We also got to watch a pair of turtles do the nasty. For the entire time. Turtles, it seems, take their time about most everything.
HannahC had been talking about going fishing for months now. She loves the fishing. During one of our many tornado warnings this month, I replaced the line on her spincasting reel and on MaxieC's as well. I also cleaned and lubed them. Our tornado warnings last quite a while, though we've yet to see a tornado this year near by. We've had 6 or 7 within 50 miles, but nothing really close.
Saturday morning, I started loading up the truck with fishing gear. The Mrs. and MaxieC had decided that they were going, and that means that quite a bit more gear is required. For instance, they require folding chairs, drinks, snacks, moist towelettes, and sunscreen. HannahC and I require fishing poles, a tackle box, and maybe a cooler if we think we're going to be keeping anything.
One of the troubles with going Saturday morning was that we didn't have worms nor did The Mrs. have her fishing license. So we planned a quick trip to Ace Hardware where both are available. However, The Mrs. never allows an opportunity for blackmail to pass, so she put all kinds of pre-conditions that had to be met prior to us leaving. Most involved homework or 4H project work. The end result of this was that we left our house at 11:45 and still had to go to the store for worms and a license.
Of course, there aren't any fish at all that bite from noon until 4 around here. The sun is too bright. One baby bluegill was caught by MaxieC, and that was it. So, The Mrs. vowed that we would go in the early morning today.
Riiiiiiight.
I knew this was going to go horribly wrong the minute The Mrs. described her plans for the night. She said that The Childrens would need to go to bed early so that they could get up early to fish, and then as soon as they went to bed, we would watch one of her godawful moovies. Well, she may not have said godawful, but when The Mrs. picks a moovie, that's about the best you can hope for.
She got HannahC to bed by 10:55pm, and then we started The Mrs.'s moovie. It was Doubt, and it was horrible. Very plodding, effectively no sub-plots whatsoever. I don't understand why anyone would think this was a decent moovie (though it gets 7.8/10 on IMDB). One of the more annoying aspects of it was the fact that it was ostensibly about a Catholic priest suspected of molesting a boy (wow - very original plot there), but it was riddled with Protestant terminology. Newsflash - Catholic churches do not have "pastors". Because of this, it made it feel like some ignorant left-wing screed against Catholicism as opposed to a drama.
Finally, this horrible thing wrapped up, but by then it was close to 1am. 1am is not when one goes to bed if one plans to go on an early morning fishing expedition.
We got fishing around 10am today. Not at all unpredictable, but a pretty lousy time to go nonetheless.
The Mrs. caught the only keeper - a 6" bluegill. I spent much of the day either baiting hooks for The Childrens or trying to catch a big catfish (or a medium carp) using first Vienna sausages and then bluegill guts at bait. MaxieC caught about 12 bluegill, the biggest being about 3". In three months, this pond will be great.
We also got to watch a pair of turtles do the nasty. For the entire time. Turtles, it seems, take their time about most everything.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Poor JackieC
JackieC, HannahC's pet rat, has taken a sudden turn for the worse tonight. Last Monday, the vet gave her a steroid shot and put her on Cipro, and she seemed to recover almost fully. However, the vet said that it was one of two things: either she had pneumonia, in which case she would be cured, or her cancer had spread to her brain, in which case she'd get better for a few days due to the tumor shrinking from the steroids and then get sick again.
I guess this means it's door #2. The Mrs. just did a nice job of explaining to HannahC how we can't take JackieC back to get steroid shots every week and how we'll do what we can to keep her comfortable but that she probably won't be getting better this time. HannahC handled it well, I think because she already expected JackieC to be dead by now given how bad she was two 10 days ago.
I guess this means it's door #2. The Mrs. just did a nice job of explaining to HannahC how we can't take JackieC back to get steroid shots every week and how we'll do what we can to keep her comfortable but that she probably won't be getting better this time. HannahC handled it well, I think because she already expected JackieC to be dead by now given how bad she was two 10 days ago.
Sunday, June 07, 2009
The New Pets
One of the joys of being out of town is discussing daily life with your childrens on the phone as opposed to face-to-face. This is a little gem was from late last week.
HannahC: "Dah, when you get home you have to empty one of the mouse traps."Ya think?
Me, CherkyB: "Oh?"
HannahC: "Yeah. I checked all the traps, and there was this big, disgusting mouse in one of them. The one by the stairs in the garage."
Me, CherkyB: "Why didn't you empty it?"
HannahC: "Well Mom and I tried turning it over and shaking it, but it was really stuck in there. It didn't come out. It's really huge. Like, its nose at at the one end, and its tail is all the way at the other. And it's stuck. Momma said you have to empty it when you get home. So you remember as soon as you come home, empty that."
Me, CherkyB: "Uh. OK."
HannahC: "You know what else?"
Me, CherkyB: "No."
HannahC: "Do you want me to just tell you, or do you want to guess?"
Me, CherkyB: "Ummm...Momma yelled at you for not doing your schoolwork?"
HannahC: "Yeah, well duuuhhhh. I mean something unusual."
Me, CherkyB: "Momma didn't yell at you cuz you did all your schoolwork without complaining?"
HannahC: "No. Maybe I should just tell you."
Me, CherkyB: "OK. Tell me."At least she hasn't made me take them to the vet yet.
HannahC: "Well, when I was checking the mousetraps and I found that big, disgusting mouse, I also found these really neat little white larvae. I don't know what they are, but I saved them, and I'm going to raise them to see what they turn into."
Me, CherkyB: "Did you find those, like, on the dead mouse?"
HannahC: "Yeah, some of them. They're really cool. The squirm around a lot. I really like them."
Me, CherkyB: "Right on the dead mouse? Like, in the mouse trap on the dead mouse?"
HannahC: "There were some there, but there were also some just near the mouse. I scooped all of the ones up that were near the mouse, cuz I didn't wanna touch the mouse."
Me, CherkyB: "Uh, Hannie, those are maggots."
My Creative Little Pains
So, I'm mowing the lawn yesterday, all happy cuz I'm mowing the lawn, and every time I drive by the swing set (where The Childrens are playing), I notice that there is a pungent odor of dog poop. I figure that I must have run some over, since I don't ever pick it up before mowing, and I quickly located some on my front tire. I dismiss the problem as not related to the swing set, but instead related to the fact that the only time I am driving into the wind is when I am headed at the swing set.
Yet, after a while, I realize I have started to mow into the wind in other parts of the yard, and it doesn't smell like dog poop. Just when I am downwind of the swing set. Hmmm...
After finishing the yard, I investigate.
Oh my.
The Childrens have made "compost". They have done this by taking a 20-gallon Rubbermaid container that we use as a toybox, filling the bottom 3" or so with cut grass and water, into which they have mixed all the dog poop they can find as well as all the bunny poop they can find. They have done this earlier in the week, as the grass is all festering already, though you can see large chunks of dog poop floating around on the muck.
HannahC explained that I bought composted steer manure for the garden, so composting poo must be the way to go.
There was a lot of yelling after that. I put the lid on the box.
Then, during dinner, we noticed that we could smell this thing all the way in the house. More yelling ensued. There may have been aspersions cast upon people's inate intelligence.
Happily, The Childrens were sent off to bed early that night. And thus The Mrs. and I ended up out in the back yard under the flood lights trying to shovel this mess into a garbage bag, which we then triple bagged, and then hosing out the container in a remote corner of the yard.
The stank was really quite something.
Yet, after a while, I realize I have started to mow into the wind in other parts of the yard, and it doesn't smell like dog poop. Just when I am downwind of the swing set. Hmmm...
After finishing the yard, I investigate.
Oh my.
The Childrens have made "compost". They have done this by taking a 20-gallon Rubbermaid container that we use as a toybox, filling the bottom 3" or so with cut grass and water, into which they have mixed all the dog poop they can find as well as all the bunny poop they can find. They have done this earlier in the week, as the grass is all festering already, though you can see large chunks of dog poop floating around on the muck.
HannahC explained that I bought composted steer manure for the garden, so composting poo must be the way to go.
There was a lot of yelling after that. I put the lid on the box.
Then, during dinner, we noticed that we could smell this thing all the way in the house. More yelling ensued. There may have been aspersions cast upon people's inate intelligence.
Happily, The Childrens were sent off to bed early that night. And thus The Mrs. and I ended up out in the back yard under the flood lights trying to shovel this mess into a garbage bag, which we then triple bagged, and then hosing out the container in a remote corner of the yard.
The stank was really quite something.
Friday, June 05, 2009
The Road-Weary Traveler
I got back home Friday after a major boondoggle for The Company. I am located here at the Fort TomCollins facility, but my next assignment is on a project largely located in my old Santa Clarabelle site, so I flew there Monday to meet some peoples. Except it's not all in Santa Clarabelle, so on Tuesday I flew up to the Hillsbrothers, Oregon site in the morning then back in the afternoon. Except we're getting some of the internal parts of the project from the ZenaFolsom, CA site, so I flew there Thursday morning and back Thursday afternoon. Finally, I flew home Friday.
Oddly enough, most of the trip turned out to be a big waste of time. Many of the people I was supposed to see decided at the last minute that they were too busy right now to meet with me. The guys in ZenaFolsom were very helpful, though.
While I was gone, The Mrs. took Jackie to the vet. They thought she had pneumonia and gave her a steriod shot plus a prescription for Cipro (you know - in case it was anthrax). She's seems to have largely recovered, though she is a bit weak still. Apparently, there was lots of nursing that went on while I was gone to try to get Jackie better.
My ankle really hurts. I was using the gas-powered weed whacker around a landscape rock bed today, and it fired a rock back at my ankle. Ow.
I bought a new suit today. The last suit I bought was for The Mrs's father's funeral over 10 years ago, and I'm a lot fatter now so it doesn't fit. I also got three shirts, three ties, and three decorative pocket hankies to go with it. This way, Ellie can get married three times before I have to recycle a look.
We're having rib eyes from Sam's club tonight. It's after 8pm, and there doesn't seem to be any sign of cooking going on, so I suppose I'll have to go check on that.
Oddly enough, most of the trip turned out to be a big waste of time. Many of the people I was supposed to see decided at the last minute that they were too busy right now to meet with me. The guys in ZenaFolsom were very helpful, though.
While I was gone, The Mrs. took Jackie to the vet. They thought she had pneumonia and gave her a steriod shot plus a prescription for Cipro (you know - in case it was anthrax). She's seems to have largely recovered, though she is a bit weak still. Apparently, there was lots of nursing that went on while I was gone to try to get Jackie better.
My ankle really hurts. I was using the gas-powered weed whacker around a landscape rock bed today, and it fired a rock back at my ankle. Ow.
I bought a new suit today. The last suit I bought was for The Mrs's father's funeral over 10 years ago, and I'm a lot fatter now so it doesn't fit. I also got three shirts, three ties, and three decorative pocket hankies to go with it. This way, Ellie can get married three times before I have to recycle a look.
We're having rib eyes from Sam's club tonight. It's after 8pm, and there doesn't seem to be any sign of cooking going on, so I suppose I'll have to go check on that.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
A Milestone
I taught MaxieC how to ride his bike without training wheels today. I'm such a fabulous teacher that it took all of 5 minutes. I think that 12" bikes are pretty easy to learn on, as you're very low to the ground. HannahC learned on a 16", and it took a lot longer despite my powerful teaching skills.
Of course she, like her mother, is quite obstinate and just always has to do the exact opposite of what I say to do. That might have something to do with it.
JackieC the rat is quite sick again. A few months back, she had surgery to remove all her breast cancer tumors (very common in rats. Mostly females.), and she's been doing very well until just recently. The Mrs. had noticed her losing her balance on occasion the past couple weeks, and then yesterday she went all limp. The Mrs. and HannahC nursed her back from the brink by feeding her lots of peeled grapes, and she can move about a bit now, but she's definitely not normal. She is past the average life expectancy of a rat by about 25%, so while we're all pulling for her, I believe that death is imminent.
Poor JackieC.
Yesterday, we went to the Denver Zoo with the 4-H group for a guided tour. It was interesting. The tour was two hours long, then we stayed another 4 hours (at which point the zoo closed, and everyone was cranky from being on their feet all day). Naturally, we didn't go home.
We went to The Mrs.'s favorite Greek restaraunt, which is in Denver near the zoo. And then we headed home.
Well, not quite. Then we headed to Bass Pro to spend all my gift certificates. Oh, and spend we did. I got me all setup for catfish hunting. Just so Carl, Jr. can be jealous, the rod was $130, and the reel was $110. Together, that exceeded my gift card balance by $5. I didn't get anything that was purpose-built for catfish. Instead, it's a lightish surf-fishing outfit. The "catfish" gear looked like crap to me, and the dude at the store said it was crap, too. They make them look really big and strong, but it's all cosmetics. I stuck with a spinning reel, though a pretty big one that also has a trolling mode.
I doubt I'll catch a thing.
I need to find some good stink-bait recipes. Then, I plan to try them out in the back pond where we have two very well-fed catfish (along with 18 goldfish/koi). No hook. I just want to see what these guys like to eat. I saw the black catfish up close for the first time in a while today while I was cleaning algae out of the pond, and he was over a foot long. Oh my. Two years ago when we got them, they were only about 3". The black one has always been bigger than the white one.
Of course she, like her mother, is quite obstinate and just always has to do the exact opposite of what I say to do. That might have something to do with it.
JackieC the rat is quite sick again. A few months back, she had surgery to remove all her breast cancer tumors (very common in rats. Mostly females.), and she's been doing very well until just recently. The Mrs. had noticed her losing her balance on occasion the past couple weeks, and then yesterday she went all limp. The Mrs. and HannahC nursed her back from the brink by feeding her lots of peeled grapes, and she can move about a bit now, but she's definitely not normal. She is past the average life expectancy of a rat by about 25%, so while we're all pulling for her, I believe that death is imminent.
Poor JackieC.
Yesterday, we went to the Denver Zoo with the 4-H group for a guided tour. It was interesting. The tour was two hours long, then we stayed another 4 hours (at which point the zoo closed, and everyone was cranky from being on their feet all day). Naturally, we didn't go home.
We went to The Mrs.'s favorite Greek restaraunt, which is in Denver near the zoo. And then we headed home.
Well, not quite. Then we headed to Bass Pro to spend all my gift certificates. Oh, and spend we did. I got me all setup for catfish hunting. Just so Carl, Jr. can be jealous, the rod was $130, and the reel was $110. Together, that exceeded my gift card balance by $5. I didn't get anything that was purpose-built for catfish. Instead, it's a lightish surf-fishing outfit. The "catfish" gear looked like crap to me, and the dude at the store said it was crap, too. They make them look really big and strong, but it's all cosmetics. I stuck with a spinning reel, though a pretty big one that also has a trolling mode.
I doubt I'll catch a thing.
I need to find some good stink-bait recipes. Then, I plan to try them out in the back pond where we have two very well-fed catfish (along with 18 goldfish/koi). No hook. I just want to see what these guys like to eat. I saw the black catfish up close for the first time in a while today while I was cleaning algae out of the pond, and he was over a foot long. Oh my. Two years ago when we got them, they were only about 3". The black one has always been bigger than the white one.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
There was a time
..that such a thing would have surprised me. But today is not such a day.
We've attempted to attempted to begin planning our cross-country venture to Ellie's wedding, but progress has been halting. However, a great breakthrough occurred today - we figured out what to do with the dog.
Last year, we took him along (as we did the rat), but that was in May. This year, it'll be in July, and it will be way too hot to leave him in the car while we eat meals. So we needed to find somewhere for him to stay. My friend Rico said he'd take him, but then decided that he was going to be out of town during that time. The Mrs. decided to check out a pet sitter she had met in a parking lot. Turns out she lives kinda far from us, but she said she could keep FreddyC at her house if'n he could get along with her 4 dogs.
He had his trial meeting today, and he got along quite nicely. So that's taken care of (at the cost of $30/day). The Mrs. has also found a home for CinnamonC and FluffyC, the guinea pigs. She's working on a home for JackieC (the rat) and LexieC (the toad).
Next step is to start mapping out hotels. Our biggest hurdle here is to decide if we want to stay together or not. This being a humor blog, you probably assume I'm joking about that, but I'm not. There are a lot of political considerations that need to be taken into account on the fambly visits. Kids, if you do for some crazy reason decide to get married, don't ever marry someone from your hometown if you plan to some day move away from that hometown. It complicates things greatly.
I really wanna go shoot my new shotgun. That's the trouble with new guns if you live in suburbia.
We've attempted to attempted to begin planning our cross-country venture to Ellie's wedding, but progress has been halting. However, a great breakthrough occurred today - we figured out what to do with the dog.
Last year, we took him along (as we did the rat), but that was in May. This year, it'll be in July, and it will be way too hot to leave him in the car while we eat meals. So we needed to find somewhere for him to stay. My friend Rico said he'd take him, but then decided that he was going to be out of town during that time. The Mrs. decided to check out a pet sitter she had met in a parking lot. Turns out she lives kinda far from us, but she said she could keep FreddyC at her house if'n he could get along with her 4 dogs.
He had his trial meeting today, and he got along quite nicely. So that's taken care of (at the cost of $30/day). The Mrs. has also found a home for CinnamonC and FluffyC, the guinea pigs. She's working on a home for JackieC (the rat) and LexieC (the toad).
Next step is to start mapping out hotels. Our biggest hurdle here is to decide if we want to stay together or not. This being a humor blog, you probably assume I'm joking about that, but I'm not. There are a lot of political considerations that need to be taken into account on the fambly visits. Kids, if you do for some crazy reason decide to get married, don't ever marry someone from your hometown if you plan to some day move away from that hometown. It complicates things greatly.
I really wanna go shoot my new shotgun. That's the trouble with new guns if you live in suburbia.
Monday, May 25, 2009
A trip to JoAnn's Fabric
The Mrs. loves the fabric store, and there was this coupon for some percentage off everything in the store, including sales, that expired today. She decided to buy the stuff to make MaxieC some blackout curtains so that he will sleep in later. He has a tendency to wake up with the sun.
Well, JoAnn's is in the same plaza at Sportsman's Warehouse, and I've been needing some new fishing line for The Childrens' reels. They both have the original line on them, and it was getting all nasty towards the end of last season. So I dropped The Mrs. and HannahC off at JoAnn's and MaxieC and I headed over to Sportsman's. The Mrs. told me to take a long time at Sportsman's, cuz she was going to get full use out of the coupon. MaxieC spent about a half hour there, which is a really long time for two dude to go "shopping", even at Sportsman's Warehouse.
It wasn't long enough. The Mrs. needed about another half hour, by which time she was all cranky (JoAnn's always makes The Mrs. cranky, despite it being her favorite store). She had two big rolls of fabric for the curtains, plus a curtain rod. These proved to be a little bit too long to fit lenghtwise through the hatch of the minivan:
Well, JoAnn's is in the same plaza at Sportsman's Warehouse, and I've been needing some new fishing line for The Childrens' reels. They both have the original line on them, and it was getting all nasty towards the end of last season. So I dropped The Mrs. and HannahC off at JoAnn's and MaxieC and I headed over to Sportsman's. The Mrs. told me to take a long time at Sportsman's, cuz she was going to get full use out of the coupon. MaxieC spent about a half hour there, which is a really long time for two dude to go "shopping", even at Sportsman's Warehouse.
It wasn't long enough. The Mrs. needed about another half hour, by which time she was all cranky (JoAnn's always makes The Mrs. cranky, despite it being her favorite store). She had two big rolls of fabric for the curtains, plus a curtain rod. These proved to be a little bit too long to fit lenghtwise through the hatch of the minivan:
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Ohhhh... who lives in a pineapple under the sea?
I'll tell ya, I just don't know where the blogging time has gone.
OK, I do. We've been "spring cleaning" the house, planting the garden, and The Mrs. has been feeling a bit under the weather in general punctuated by the occasional burst of serious, heartfelt, "I'm going to die!!!!"
I'm telling ya folks, if you're not prepared for every medical malady to turn into a major performance, then don't marry someone with a performance degree. The Mrs. isn't going to die. The Mrs. was never even close to dying. Well, at least not any closer than that time she got really "happy" at the conservatory and decided to show her friends how athletic she was by demonstrating how she could jump down a whole flight of stairs without getting hurt and then called me up in the middle of the night (400 miles away) to ask me if she should go to the hospital.
But we're not supposed to talk about that.
As part of the spring cleaning, The Childrens have been boxing and bagging up toys that they don't need any more. Some for donation, some for sellin' at the consignment shoppe (at least until the new lead rules for certifying toys go into effect, which puts consignment stores out of business). Then, they'll be rewarded with new toys of a smaller volume, but likely higher dollar cost.
Probably they'll each get a Nintendo DSi. They need them for the road trip anyways, so we might as well kill two birds with one stone.
I'm thinking of cleaning up the garage so I can make room for a new truck. I have the most devious of plans. See, it goes like this:
My HOA won't let me park a boat outside, on account of the fact that I live in a nice neighborhood, so owning a boat becomes way too much hassle, cuz then I gotta rent some place to park it, go get it the night before, charge the batteries, check everything over, go fishing, come back, clean it all off, then take it back to storage. Hence, the saga of the fishing boat ended with me empty-handed.
Now, the prospect of the Gub'ment and/or the UAW and/or Fiat running Dodge has made me worry about the possibility of not being able to get quality replacement parts for the old truckster. I'm almost at 60k miles, which is about as far as once can expect a Dodge to go without requiring a steady diet of replacement parts. Yes, I know, if I'd gotten the Heavy Duty, that wouldn't be true. But I got a compact (I lived in California, and the compact didn't fit in my garage at all and just barely fit in the driveway). The Dakota, like its brother the Durango, is known more for its styling and class-leading available V8 power than it is for its longevity. You can axe 'Billy about how well his Durango held up once it got to a certain age.
So, if'n I'm replacing the Dakota in a year or so, first you gotta look at all the possible replacements. The Dakota, despite being competely redesigned a couple years ago, remains largely identical to the one I have now (plus, see above about Gub'ment/UAW/Fiat), so that's out. The Chevy/GMC twins, while they've managed to wedge a nice V8 in there, are otherwise non-competitive models, and while Fiat doesn't look to be involved, Gub'ment/UAW ownership is on the horizon. The Frontier (made in USA) and Tacoma (made in Mexico) both have laughably small beds - even smaller than I have now. There are only two serious complaints I have about my truck: pathetic gas mileage (12 city/15 hwy) and the small bed. The Ford Explorer Sport Track I don't even understand the point of.
So, I'm left going full-size. And when you go full-size, you're only real option in the half-ton market is the F-150.
Now, I've checked the dimensions of the F-150, and it will not fit through my garage door without the mirrors folded. It's not clear to me if they have power folding mirrors, i.e., mirrors that you push a button, and they automatically fold. If they do, then we might be able to get it through the door (I'm not getting in and out to fold/unfold mirrors every time I use the garage). Once inside, though, I'm pretty sure I'd have to take out the shelves on the left wall in order to open the driver's door, and I'm pretty sure I won't be able to open the right rear passenger door because I have no way to remove the post that holds up the second floor that is right there. I figure if I get the SuperCrew with the 6.5' bed, there's no practical way I'll be able to park it in the garage.
Which means helllloooo fishing boat.
OK, I do. We've been "spring cleaning" the house, planting the garden, and The Mrs. has been feeling a bit under the weather in general punctuated by the occasional burst of serious, heartfelt, "I'm going to die!!!!"
I'm telling ya folks, if you're not prepared for every medical malady to turn into a major performance, then don't marry someone with a performance degree. The Mrs. isn't going to die. The Mrs. was never even close to dying. Well, at least not any closer than that time she got really "happy" at the conservatory and decided to show her friends how athletic she was by demonstrating how she could jump down a whole flight of stairs without getting hurt and then called me up in the middle of the night (400 miles away) to ask me if she should go to the hospital.
But we're not supposed to talk about that.
As part of the spring cleaning, The Childrens have been boxing and bagging up toys that they don't need any more. Some for donation, some for sellin' at the consignment shoppe (at least until the new lead rules for certifying toys go into effect, which puts consignment stores out of business). Then, they'll be rewarded with new toys of a smaller volume, but likely higher dollar cost.
Probably they'll each get a Nintendo DSi. They need them for the road trip anyways, so we might as well kill two birds with one stone.
I'm thinking of cleaning up the garage so I can make room for a new truck. I have the most devious of plans. See, it goes like this:
My HOA won't let me park a boat outside, on account of the fact that I live in a nice neighborhood, so owning a boat becomes way too much hassle, cuz then I gotta rent some place to park it, go get it the night before, charge the batteries, check everything over, go fishing, come back, clean it all off, then take it back to storage. Hence, the saga of the fishing boat ended with me empty-handed.
Now, the prospect of the Gub'ment and/or the UAW and/or Fiat running Dodge has made me worry about the possibility of not being able to get quality replacement parts for the old truckster. I'm almost at 60k miles, which is about as far as once can expect a Dodge to go without requiring a steady diet of replacement parts. Yes, I know, if I'd gotten the Heavy Duty, that wouldn't be true. But I got a compact (I lived in California, and the compact didn't fit in my garage at all and just barely fit in the driveway). The Dakota, like its brother the Durango, is known more for its styling and class-leading available V8 power than it is for its longevity. You can axe 'Billy about how well his Durango held up once it got to a certain age.
So, if'n I'm replacing the Dakota in a year or so, first you gotta look at all the possible replacements. The Dakota, despite being competely redesigned a couple years ago, remains largely identical to the one I have now (plus, see above about Gub'ment/UAW/Fiat), so that's out. The Chevy/GMC twins, while they've managed to wedge a nice V8 in there, are otherwise non-competitive models, and while Fiat doesn't look to be involved, Gub'ment/UAW ownership is on the horizon. The Frontier (made in USA) and Tacoma (made in Mexico) both have laughably small beds - even smaller than I have now. There are only two serious complaints I have about my truck: pathetic gas mileage (12 city/15 hwy) and the small bed. The Ford Explorer Sport Track I don't even understand the point of.
So, I'm left going full-size. And when you go full-size, you're only real option in the half-ton market is the F-150.
Now, I've checked the dimensions of the F-150, and it will not fit through my garage door without the mirrors folded. It's not clear to me if they have power folding mirrors, i.e., mirrors that you push a button, and they automatically fold. If they do, then we might be able to get it through the door (I'm not getting in and out to fold/unfold mirrors every time I use the garage). Once inside, though, I'm pretty sure I'd have to take out the shelves on the left wall in order to open the driver's door, and I'm pretty sure I won't be able to open the right rear passenger door because I have no way to remove the post that holds up the second floor that is right there. I figure if I get the SuperCrew with the 6.5' bed, there's no practical way I'll be able to park it in the garage.
Which means helllloooo fishing boat.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Why yes, I have been neglecting you
You'll get over it. I know I did.
There hasn't been a lot to report on the old homefront these day that has any entertainment value. So I'll have to choreblog (given that The Mrs. has squirreled away the camera where I can't find it, I can't even photoblog).
Sunday of course was Mothers' Day, or as it goes by around here The Day of Anger. The Mrs. went out to the hot tub in the morning, and then came back in moments later without saying anything. An hour later, I asked if there was anything wrong with the hot tub, and she said, "It's a filthy, disgusting mess. The water is green. There is yellow mold growing up the sides. I'm not going in there."
Now, I found this odd given that just a couple days prior I had checked all the chemical levels and shocked the hell out of it (as the water was starting to look a little less transparent than I like). So I checked, and sure enough, the water was slightly green and there was some yellowish scum forming around the edges. I don't think it was necessarily mold, but I don't have a better explanation.
I decided to head to the spa store to see if I could score some new filters.
As it turns out, they didn't have any. However, the guy declared my filter just fine. Now, this was actually the owner dude - the guy we had bought the tub from - not one of the, shall we say, less knowledgeable young ladies that normally mans the counter on weekends. So I discussed the problems I had been having of late keeping the tub clean despite the copious amounts of shock I put in regularly and the fact that all the chemical levels always read just fine on the test strip.
He said, "It sounds like your ozone isn't working. That's odd. They usually last a little over a year."
"The tub is two years old."
"Oh. Have you ever changed the ozone generator module?"
"Uh, no. I didn't know you had to."
"You have to change them every year."
I really don't remember that little gem being in the manual, but it has been two years since I read the manual. He also recommended I change the backflow valve for the ozone, cuz they don't last forever either, and then you get water in the ozone generator and burn it out.
And, as it turns out, there's a little window you look in to see if it is glowing purple when turned on. If it's purple, ozone. If not, time for a new one.
No purple in mine. I would describe it more as carbonized from some kind of catastrophic burnout than as purple. Plus, the hose seemed to have shmutz deposits in it. It was a pretty easy change once I gave up on the idea of getting the old backflow valve out (it snapped off in the tube when I tried to remove it) and just cut off the end of the tube. Then, I actually used a pipe cleaner to clean the shmutz out of the tube.
Of course, now the tube was too short. So I had to make a quick trip to Ace for $2 worth of stuff to splice in a new short length of new tube. Then I emptied and refilled the tub. So far, 4 days later, it is holding up very well. The water smells better than it has in a long time (even when it was freshly filled before) - one might even say the water doesn't smell at all. I'm hoping this was the key.
I've finally decided to get the big dent in my truck fender repaired. If you recall the story (which you don't), some f$%knuts smashed into my truck in the work parking lot back in October 2006 and didn't leave a note or anything. Now, it's finally starting to rust. So I'm going to have to put up the $500 deductible and get it fixed. Get this - rather than replacing the fender, they're going to repair it, and they've estimated this is going to take 12 hours of labor. 12 hours to hammer out a dent and sand some Bondo? Can't you build an entire car out of Bondo in less than 12 hours? Maybe not a truck, but something small, like a Tacoma. And then it's another 4 hours of labor to paint it.
Plus $32.50 for the "4x4" decal. That's the only part they're actually replacing.
I managed to eat a very quick lunch today then run to the body shop for an estimate. $988. Robbery, I tell you. Then, I had to call my insurance company to see if they'd still pay a claim that was almost 3 years old. They had to "re-activate" it, but that took mere moments. So I'll be dropping the truck off the day before we had to Barfalo for Ellie's wedding, and it'll be ready and waiting when we return.
Then, I can look up what the value of my truck in "good" condition will be as opposed to "fair". I hear that Dodges lost 6% of their value after Chrysler filed for chapter 11, so probably that fancy fender paint will be the most expensive part of the vehicle. Well, until I replace the shocks, which it is also badly in need of.
That is all. Carry on.
There hasn't been a lot to report on the old homefront these day that has any entertainment value. So I'll have to choreblog (given that The Mrs. has squirreled away the camera where I can't find it, I can't even photoblog).
Sunday of course was Mothers' Day, or as it goes by around here The Day of Anger. The Mrs. went out to the hot tub in the morning, and then came back in moments later without saying anything. An hour later, I asked if there was anything wrong with the hot tub, and she said, "It's a filthy, disgusting mess. The water is green. There is yellow mold growing up the sides. I'm not going in there."
Now, I found this odd given that just a couple days prior I had checked all the chemical levels and shocked the hell out of it (as the water was starting to look a little less transparent than I like). So I checked, and sure enough, the water was slightly green and there was some yellowish scum forming around the edges. I don't think it was necessarily mold, but I don't have a better explanation.
I decided to head to the spa store to see if I could score some new filters.
As it turns out, they didn't have any. However, the guy declared my filter just fine. Now, this was actually the owner dude - the guy we had bought the tub from - not one of the, shall we say, less knowledgeable young ladies that normally mans the counter on weekends. So I discussed the problems I had been having of late keeping the tub clean despite the copious amounts of shock I put in regularly and the fact that all the chemical levels always read just fine on the test strip.
He said, "It sounds like your ozone isn't working. That's odd. They usually last a little over a year."
"The tub is two years old."
"Oh. Have you ever changed the ozone generator module?"
"Uh, no. I didn't know you had to."
"You have to change them every year."
I really don't remember that little gem being in the manual, but it has been two years since I read the manual. He also recommended I change the backflow valve for the ozone, cuz they don't last forever either, and then you get water in the ozone generator and burn it out.
And, as it turns out, there's a little window you look in to see if it is glowing purple when turned on. If it's purple, ozone. If not, time for a new one.
No purple in mine. I would describe it more as carbonized from some kind of catastrophic burnout than as purple. Plus, the hose seemed to have shmutz deposits in it. It was a pretty easy change once I gave up on the idea of getting the old backflow valve out (it snapped off in the tube when I tried to remove it) and just cut off the end of the tube. Then, I actually used a pipe cleaner to clean the shmutz out of the tube.
Of course, now the tube was too short. So I had to make a quick trip to Ace for $2 worth of stuff to splice in a new short length of new tube. Then I emptied and refilled the tub. So far, 4 days later, it is holding up very well. The water smells better than it has in a long time (even when it was freshly filled before) - one might even say the water doesn't smell at all. I'm hoping this was the key.
I've finally decided to get the big dent in my truck fender repaired. If you recall the story (which you don't), some f$%knuts smashed into my truck in the work parking lot back in October 2006 and didn't leave a note or anything. Now, it's finally starting to rust. So I'm going to have to put up the $500 deductible and get it fixed. Get this - rather than replacing the fender, they're going to repair it, and they've estimated this is going to take 12 hours of labor. 12 hours to hammer out a dent and sand some Bondo? Can't you build an entire car out of Bondo in less than 12 hours? Maybe not a truck, but something small, like a Tacoma. And then it's another 4 hours of labor to paint it.
Plus $32.50 for the "4x4" decal. That's the only part they're actually replacing.
I managed to eat a very quick lunch today then run to the body shop for an estimate. $988. Robbery, I tell you. Then, I had to call my insurance company to see if they'd still pay a claim that was almost 3 years old. They had to "re-activate" it, but that took mere moments. So I'll be dropping the truck off the day before we had to Barfalo for Ellie's wedding, and it'll be ready and waiting when we return.
Then, I can look up what the value of my truck in "good" condition will be as opposed to "fair". I hear that Dodges lost 6% of their value after Chrysler filed for chapter 11, so probably that fancy fender paint will be the most expensive part of the vehicle. Well, until I replace the shocks, which it is also badly in need of.
That is all. Carry on.
Friday, May 08, 2009
It appears to have been cancelled
My new feature, which was to be a multimedia extravaganza, appears to have had the plug pulled on it by The Mrs. See, I was farting around with my new video editing software (which really, really sucks as it turns out - good thing it was free) along with some sound and picture editors trying to figure out the easiest way to take a still image, record a voiceover for that, and then splice it in with some video footage, when The Mrs. walked in and was absolutely convinced that the fake stills, voiceover, and goofy video I had recorded just to figure out the software was actually evidence of me carrying on some affair with an unknown woman over the compooter.
The unknown woman talking to me in the voiceover, oddly enough, was actually a recording of me that I had pitch-shifted up using Audacity, which is a kick-ass free sound editor. So, The Mrs. is mad at me right now for making a recording of me asking myself a question, and then a video of me answering myself.
And thus dies "Ask CherkyB." It had such promise, too. Sigh. How I suffer for my art.
The unknown woman talking to me in the voiceover, oddly enough, was actually a recording of me that I had pitch-shifted up using Audacity, which is a kick-ass free sound editor. So, The Mrs. is mad at me right now for making a recording of me asking myself a question, and then a video of me answering myself.
And thus dies "Ask CherkyB." It had such promise, too. Sigh. How I suffer for my art.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
The joys of prostate health
On AM radio, you hear a lot of commercials to buy gold. Today, though, we got to hear a commercial for a homeopathic herbal concoction for prostate health.
HannahC: "Hey Dah, what's 'sex drive'?"Oh sweet Jesus.
Me, CherkyB: "Umm..." CherkyB must run through the possible answers before speaking:
(It's something men have all the time and women have until they get married.)
(Ask your mother. She might remember.)
(It's the thing that makes men want to earn more money.)
(You know all those Girls Gone Wild commercials on TV?)
Me, CherkyB: "So, you remember that video with Howie Mandel about how babies were made? You remember what 'sex' was?"
HannahC: "Yeah."
Me, CherkyB: "Sex drive is the thing that makes you want to have sex."
HannahC: "OK. What's a prostate?"
Me, CherkyB: "[blah blah blah] and when you get old it often doesn't work right."
HannahC: "I see."
HannahC: "Dah?"
Me, CherkyB: "Yes?"
HannahC: "Are you too old to have sex anymore?"
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
I'm thinking of a new feature
I'm not sure what to call it yet, as I have two or three different versions of the idea. But, you know, now that Andy Rooney is dead, I sense a vacuum.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Momma is one of Those
HannahC had a talent show today. I had to pick MaxieC up from the gym at 6:00 and drive us to the show. Being that this was the evening drive, Michael Savage was on the radio one of his satiric resignation bits.
Michael Savage: "Oooooh, I think I'm going to become one of those people who just shuts up and gets along."I wonder what it is that they do all day when I'm at work.
MS: "I mean, what have I got to complain about? 99% of people just looooove Obama."
MaxieC: "Momma is one of those."
Me, CherkyB: "Huh?"
MaxieC: "Momma is one of those. Momma cares for Obama."
Saturday, May 02, 2009
They're Not All Winners 3
Given that it has been 6 months since the last installment, one can't help but notice that, while they may not all be winners, damn close to all of them are. Oh, the quality of entertainment delivered by Me, CherkyB is absolutely top notch. I'm like Top Gear, only without the need for a continuous stream of automobile props. Or the need for two sidekicks. And not British.
OK, nothing like Top Gear, but top notch nonetheless.
So last night was an action-packed night, being Friday and all. First, upon returning home from work, I realized I had forgotten to pick up HannahC from gymnastics because she changes her schedule every week, and I had thought this Friday she wasn't there. Not to worry - I had plenty of time. I rushed back to get her and had to stand around for 15 minutes while she puddled around in the locker room jibber-jabbering with her friends.
Then, upon returning home a second time, I immediately set forth trying to clean up the breakfast and lunch dishes enough to have room to serve dinner. See, The Mrs. likes every meal to require at least two different size plates and/or bowls per person, and then a serving plate or bowl (along with a serving spoon or tongs) for each and every dish, plus at least one, preferably more food prep items. Thus, for example, a simple breakfast of pancakes for three (I don't normally eat breakfast, instead using the time to sleep in before leaving for work) will create the following carnage:
If it is a bad day, everything will simply be left on the kitchen table, pushed into my spot (since I'm at work and thus not using my spot) when it comes time to make lunch (with an equivalent use of dishes).
Yesterday was apparently a good day.
Now, the prior night I had noted how the entire house was a wreck and that The Fambly should plan on spending some time cleaning up while I was work. The Mrs. informed me that she had never "signed up" to clean or cook or do dishes. All she had "signed up" for was to raise The Childrens. I noted that the only thing I had signed up for was to earn the money, and I also noted that the only way I could detect what she did all day while I was gone was to log into the credit card website and watch the numbers spin by on balance.
So that pretty much guaranteed that the first thing I would have to do upon returning home was the dishes. It was a nice added touch that the groceries from the trip to the supermarket two days ago were still all lined up in bags in the hallway, and The Mrs. was complaining that the back of the van was filled with more from a trip to Sam's Club yesterday but that she didn't have anywhere to pile them. She did "try" to find all the perishables and get them into the refrigerator or freezer, though. She did not have confidence in complete success on that.
After eating dinner (a dinner of guacamole and Tostitos Hint of Lime tortilla chips), it was announced that it was hot tub time. So we hit the tub for a while - at first just The Childrens and I, with The Mrs. joining us a bit later. Afterwards, they all just went inside, leaving me to put in the chemicals, close the lid, and collect the empties. It was about 41 degrees out.
This finally brings us to the topic of the post. Upon returning inside, The Mrs. and I were changing out of our bathing suits when the following transpired:
OK, nothing like Top Gear, but top notch nonetheless.
So last night was an action-packed night, being Friday and all. First, upon returning home from work, I realized I had forgotten to pick up HannahC from gymnastics because she changes her schedule every week, and I had thought this Friday she wasn't there. Not to worry - I had plenty of time. I rushed back to get her and had to stand around for 15 minutes while she puddled around in the locker room jibber-jabbering with her friends.
Then, upon returning home a second time, I immediately set forth trying to clean up the breakfast and lunch dishes enough to have room to serve dinner. See, The Mrs. likes every meal to require at least two different size plates and/or bowls per person, and then a serving plate or bowl (along with a serving spoon or tongs) for each and every dish, plus at least one, preferably more food prep items. Thus, for example, a simple breakfast of pancakes for three (I don't normally eat breakfast, instead using the time to sleep in before leaving for work) will create the following carnage:
- One mixing bowl
- One measuring cup to measure the powdered mix
- A different measuring cup to measure the water
- Two beaters from the electric mixer
- A spatula to scrape the sides of the mixing bowl when mixing
- A different spatula to control the pour when pouring the batter into the pan
- A frying pan that will not be dishwasher safe
- A spatula to turn over the pancakes
- A second non-dishwasher safe pan to fry the sausage links
- A different spatula to roll the links so they cook on all sides
- A splatter screen to keep the sausages from splattering hot grease
- A colander in which to wash the grapes
- A bowl in which to serve the grapes
- A bowl for each child so that they can put grapes in there and not keep sticking their fingers in the main serving bowl
- A plate on which to serve the pancakes
- A big fork to move pancakes from serving plate to eating plate
- A plate on which to serve the sausage links
- A set of tongs to get sausage links from the plate
- A plate to put the butter on
- A butter knife
- Three forks
- Two knives, one for each child
- A third knife because HannahC didn't like the original one cuz it was not a steak knife
- Three juice glasses
- A coffee mug
- A milk cup because MaxieC decided he wanted milk instead of juice after the juice was poured
If it is a bad day, everything will simply be left on the kitchen table, pushed into my spot (since I'm at work and thus not using my spot) when it comes time to make lunch (with an equivalent use of dishes).
Yesterday was apparently a good day.
Now, the prior night I had noted how the entire house was a wreck and that The Fambly should plan on spending some time cleaning up while I was work. The Mrs. informed me that she had never "signed up" to clean or cook or do dishes. All she had "signed up" for was to raise The Childrens. I noted that the only thing I had signed up for was to earn the money, and I also noted that the only way I could detect what she did all day while I was gone was to log into the credit card website and watch the numbers spin by on balance.
So that pretty much guaranteed that the first thing I would have to do upon returning home was the dishes. It was a nice added touch that the groceries from the trip to the supermarket two days ago were still all lined up in bags in the hallway, and The Mrs. was complaining that the back of the van was filled with more from a trip to Sam's Club yesterday but that she didn't have anywhere to pile them. She did "try" to find all the perishables and get them into the refrigerator or freezer, though. She did not have confidence in complete success on that.
After eating dinner (a dinner of guacamole and Tostitos Hint of Lime tortilla chips), it was announced that it was hot tub time. So we hit the tub for a while - at first just The Childrens and I, with The Mrs. joining us a bit later. Afterwards, they all just went inside, leaving me to put in the chemicals, close the lid, and collect the empties. It was about 41 degrees out.
This finally brings us to the topic of the post. Upon returning inside, The Mrs. and I were changing out of our bathing suits when the following transpired:
The Mrs.: "So..."They're not all winners.
Me, CherkyB: "What?"
The Mrs.: "No. I'm not going to say it. You'll just get mad."
Me, CherkyB: "Well, now I'm going to get mad either way, so you might as well just say it."
The Mrs.: "So...was it cold outside?"
Me, CherkyB: "I dunno. Did the earth suddenly develop more mass?"
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Asymmetric Tonsillitis
My right tonsil hurts. In fact, it has hurt for two days now. My right ear canal is beginning to hurt today. It's very odd. Normally when I get a sore throat, it affects both tonsils and the whole throat. But not this time. If I could figure out how to swallow with just the left half of my throat, it wouldn't hurt to eat at all.
Alas, I have not figured that out.
I figure this must be some horrible disease to be affecting me on just one side. I assume that I am not long for this world, and thus I am napping a lot. Normally, I force myself not to nap because of the wrath that this brings down upon me, but given the unavoidable consequences of this horrible affliction, I am unmoved by worries of future penance to be extracted. I let it ride.
Sadly, this all comes at a time when I am becoming hugely popular on Facebook. I am up to 8 friends now, 6 of whom invited me. Yes, The CherkyB is in high demand wherever he goes and mingles with the little peoples. I have thus far eschewed the "applications," despite receiving about 12 different requests of some sort or another, each of which requires me to agree to a new "terms of service" form plus grant the application unfettered access to my account.
I must say, I am intrigued by this "shot request" application, though. I have one request pending on that. I may break down. I generally don't refuse shots.
Unless they're flu shots, which the gubment uses to track you.
I should probably lie down. I'm going to lie on my left side to see if the disease spreads due to gravity.
Alas, I have not figured that out.
I figure this must be some horrible disease to be affecting me on just one side. I assume that I am not long for this world, and thus I am napping a lot. Normally, I force myself not to nap because of the wrath that this brings down upon me, but given the unavoidable consequences of this horrible affliction, I am unmoved by worries of future penance to be extracted. I let it ride.
Sadly, this all comes at a time when I am becoming hugely popular on Facebook. I am up to 8 friends now, 6 of whom invited me. Yes, The CherkyB is in high demand wherever he goes and mingles with the little peoples. I have thus far eschewed the "applications," despite receiving about 12 different requests of some sort or another, each of which requires me to agree to a new "terms of service" form plus grant the application unfettered access to my account.
I must say, I am intrigued by this "shot request" application, though. I have one request pending on that. I may break down. I generally don't refuse shots.
Unless they're flu shots, which the gubment uses to track you.
I should probably lie down. I'm going to lie on my left side to see if the disease spreads due to gravity.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Has my wife ever met me?
This is the coffee she bought for me, cuz I won't drink her nasty Starbucks half-caf:
Friday, April 24, 2009
Again with the mice
Today, I happened to glance into the closet by the garage where The Childrens keep their shoes. I noticed there was a lot of dog food strewn about in there. Hmmm. That usually means mice.
So I checked for turds.
Yup. Mice. Turds on the floor. Turds on the shelf. Turds in the shoe caddy.
Plus, I found dogfood in the toes of some of The Mrs.'s shoes that were in there. I didn't actually find any little mousy nests, though. I see that as a good thing, as I'm not as quick as I once was (though I'm as quick once as I ever was), so I don't really like to grab mice and squeeze them to death with my bare hands anymore.
I checked the perimeter defenses, and there were dead mice in two of the three traps. One of the dead ones was covered in ants. They'd been there a while. So I dumped out the deaders and reset the traps, moving two of them into the shoe closet.
Now that we have Amazon Prime, I ordered me up a couple more traps. Can never be too careful.
So I checked for turds.
Yup. Mice. Turds on the floor. Turds on the shelf. Turds in the shoe caddy.
Plus, I found dogfood in the toes of some of The Mrs.'s shoes that were in there. I didn't actually find any little mousy nests, though. I see that as a good thing, as I'm not as quick as I once was (though I'm as quick once as I ever was), so I don't really like to grab mice and squeeze them to death with my bare hands anymore.
I checked the perimeter defenses, and there were dead mice in two of the three traps. One of the dead ones was covered in ants. They'd been there a while. So I dumped out the deaders and reset the traps, moving two of them into the shoe closet.
Now that we have Amazon Prime, I ordered me up a couple more traps. Can never be too careful.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
I just got unjustly accused
The Mrs. just forced me to show her all my facebook friends because she suspected I was having an affair with someone nicer than she via facebook. She suspected this because I told her that a guy I used to be friends with in elementary school and that she knew from high school was one of my (few - I'm not very popular) facebook friends, and he had sent me an email telling about his family.
So, naturally, she assumed I was cheating on her. How sad she was to discover that my only non-relative female facebook friend was blogauthor.
Now, if I were blogauthor, I'd be deeply offended that The Mrs. dismissed out of hand the possibility of us having an affair.
But then again, I did say she expected I was having an affair with someone nicer.
So, naturally, she assumed I was cheating on her. How sad she was to discover that my only non-relative female facebook friend was blogauthor.
Now, if I were blogauthor, I'd be deeply offended that The Mrs. dismissed out of hand the possibility of us having an affair.
But then again, I did say she expected I was having an affair with someone nicer.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
The Fountain of Joy
First, let me open with the view out my bedroom window this morning. You've probably heard how Denver had a big snow storm this weekend. Well, we didn't. However, the mountains just west of town did. You can see the nice fresh coat of white on them.
Also, you can see how green my next-door neighbor's lawn is compared to mine. He turned on his sprinklers a couple weeks ago, whereas I haven't yet. I did drag the de-thatcher around the yard yesterday in the rain, so my lawn kinda looks "combed."
My project for today was to get the little fountain pool that spills down into the corner of the back pond running. It's located right directly behind the pergola in the above picture, so's ya cain't see it atall.
It has never run since we moved here. To me, this seemed to obviously be because it didn't have a pump, and it's pretty damn hard to coax water out of a pond and up about four feet through six feet of 3/4" tubing to spring forth in a fountain without a pump. No, pump clearly was called for.
So I headed off to my local pond store (which, now, is the 3rd closest pond store - used to be the closest, but they moved past #2, and then someone opened up a new one even closer than that) where the guy is always very helpful, and he fixed my up with a pump and all the tubing an valves I'd need for the elaborate setup I was going for.
See, there was this little status of an alligator that was supposed to spout water into the little pool:
And there was also this little fishie that was supposed to spout water into the pool:
That requires a couple of extra lines with T's and apportioning valves. But in the end, it worked out:
When I first turned it on, I noticed it was spilling over the sides a whole lot and seemed to be washing a lot of dirt into the pond. Upon investigation, I discovered that the liner had not really been installed right for the channel, and that it stopped 8" short of the pond. The pond liner was all folded up under rocks down there, so I unfolded it and ran it up under the channel liner for about a foot so as to make a contiguous liner from pool to pond. This appears to have worked.
Oh, I also got a new toy. This is my new Blaster 1000 spa filter cleaner. It automatically turns the filter while it sprays it. Coolio.
Also, you can see how green my next-door neighbor's lawn is compared to mine. He turned on his sprinklers a couple weeks ago, whereas I haven't yet. I did drag the de-thatcher around the yard yesterday in the rain, so my lawn kinda looks "combed."
My project for today was to get the little fountain pool that spills down into the corner of the back pond running. It's located right directly behind the pergola in the above picture, so's ya cain't see it atall.
It has never run since we moved here. To me, this seemed to obviously be because it didn't have a pump, and it's pretty damn hard to coax water out of a pond and up about four feet through six feet of 3/4" tubing to spring forth in a fountain without a pump. No, pump clearly was called for.
So I headed off to my local pond store (which, now, is the 3rd closest pond store - used to be the closest, but they moved past #2, and then someone opened up a new one even closer than that) where the guy is always very helpful, and he fixed my up with a pump and all the tubing an valves I'd need for the elaborate setup I was going for.
See, there was this little status of an alligator that was supposed to spout water into the little pool:
And there was also this little fishie that was supposed to spout water into the pool:
That requires a couple of extra lines with T's and apportioning valves. But in the end, it worked out:
When I first turned it on, I noticed it was spilling over the sides a whole lot and seemed to be washing a lot of dirt into the pond. Upon investigation, I discovered that the liner had not really been installed right for the channel, and that it stopped 8" short of the pond. The pond liner was all folded up under rocks down there, so I unfolded it and ran it up under the channel liner for about a foot so as to make a contiguous liner from pool to pond. This appears to have worked.
Oh, I also got a new toy. This is my new Blaster 1000 spa filter cleaner. It automatically turns the filter while it sprays it. Coolio.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Thirst, Interrupted
I'm starting to get the idea here with facebook. it goes like this: "I'm going to delude myself into thinking that people care about all the tiny little crap that I do, and I'm just going to give little updates all the time. This will, in turn, prompt other people to think that their mundane little things are just as interesting as mine, and they will start to post them. And so on."
It almost beats the hell out of having something to say. Except people will soon discover that most of the mundane things in my life revolve around figuring out what to drink. Or, even worse, they'll think that I'm pretending that I spend spend a lot of time thinking about what to drink because I think it'll make me look cool.
Neither will be true, though. In fact, most of the mundane things in my life revolve around actually drinking, not contemplating what to have. I am a very decisive person, though not necessarily known for my good judgment.
Now, one of the interesting things about facebook seems to be the way it selects people to suggest as your friends. I get that it tries to match background, but this is perhaps done in a ridiculous fashion. For instance, it keeps insisting that I want some guy named DannyK as my friend because "You and Dan both went to SUNY Buffalo."
SUNY Buffalo is a pretty darned big school. Its enrollment has been running around 28,000 students per year. The chances of me knowing just anyone who went to that school is pretty low. But get this - this DannyK fellow is a grad student there right now, according to his profile. I graduated in 1990. 19 years ago. They graduate ~7000 people a year, and it decides that I'm gonna want to be friends with some random dude out of the 130,000 people who went there after I left.
Bizarre.
It almost beats the hell out of having something to say. Except people will soon discover that most of the mundane things in my life revolve around figuring out what to drink. Or, even worse, they'll think that I'm pretending that I spend spend a lot of time thinking about what to drink because I think it'll make me look cool.
Neither will be true, though. In fact, most of the mundane things in my life revolve around actually drinking, not contemplating what to have. I am a very decisive person, though not necessarily known for my good judgment.
Now, one of the interesting things about facebook seems to be the way it selects people to suggest as your friends. I get that it tries to match background, but this is perhaps done in a ridiculous fashion. For instance, it keeps insisting that I want some guy named DannyK as my friend because "You and Dan both went to SUNY Buffalo."
SUNY Buffalo is a pretty darned big school. Its enrollment has been running around 28,000 students per year. The chances of me knowing just anyone who went to that school is pretty low. But get this - this DannyK fellow is a grad student there right now, according to his profile. I graduated in 1990. 19 years ago. They graduate ~7000 people a year, and it decides that I'm gonna want to be friends with some random dude out of the 130,000 people who went there after I left.
Bizarre.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
I don't get it
I'm going to try to say this in a way that doesn't offend everybody. I know, however, that you're all hyper-sensitive and are just looking for some way to feel slighted by The CherkyB, so if it makes you feel better to feel offended, be my guest.
For I while, I had just one "Facebook Friend", and that was fine because it meant that facebook was largely what I expected it would be based upon descriptions given to me by co-workers who used it - an application completely devoid of any value whatsoever, but largely harmless. Then, this morning, I had two people who wanted to be my friends.
And that's when I realized it is much more than I had thought. It is actually not devoid of value. It has negative value. It allows people who should be keeping their inane thoughts largely to themselves to post every silly thing that comes to mind. I blogging, even really really bad blogging, you have to at least wait until you have a whole paragraph of something to say before you post it.
Not so in Facebook. It appears to be specifically designed for people who can't think of an entire paragraph of something to say.
For instance this little gem:
Or this:
And it just scrolls on and on and on like that. It make's Angry Thespian's work like like art in comparison.
It's like someone was kicking back one day hitting the herb a little hard and said, "You know what, maaaan? You know what I really miss with all this web 2.0 sh!t and stuff, man? I miss the days when you would call up your local bulletin board system on your 300 baud half-duplex modem and just post whatever you were thinking, man. And you didn't have to think too deep cuz at 300 baud you couldn't type too much. And you could have like a cool screen name like 'Kreton Metallicon' or 'Zerk the Infinite' and just like, be whatever, maaan. Someone should invent something like that only, like, with pictures, so if you didn't have anything to say, you could just snap a pic with your cellphone and put that up. Like, 'Hey, this is me. This is what I look like right now. I'm like feeling all baked and sh!t.' Only without having to write anything."
I can feel myself getting shallower already.
For I while, I had just one "Facebook Friend", and that was fine because it meant that facebook was largely what I expected it would be based upon descriptions given to me by co-workers who used it - an application completely devoid of any value whatsoever, but largely harmless. Then, this morning, I had two people who wanted to be my friends.
And that's when I realized it is much more than I had thought. It is actually not devoid of value. It has negative value. It allows people who should be keeping their inane thoughts largely to themselves to post every silly thing that comes to mind. I blogging, even really really bad blogging, you have to at least wait until you have a whole paragraph of something to say before you post it.
Not so in Facebook. It appears to be specifically designed for people who can't think of an entire paragraph of something to say.
For instance this little gem:
"5 Things i don't leave the house without!".My Brain, My wallet, My shoes, Patrick Swayze and My Boobs."And if you click on any of the embedded photos, it asks you to consent to have all your personal information mined so that they can use it for something that is buried in the small print of a service agreement. Really.
Or this:
"[I] got the last Broadway Market butter lamb at Wegman's."Followed later that same day by:
"[I] put the ham in the oven."Lamb or ham? Which the f#$k is it, for f*%^k's sake?
And it just scrolls on and on and on like that. It make's Angry Thespian's work like like art in comparison.
It's like someone was kicking back one day hitting the herb a little hard and said, "You know what, maaaan? You know what I really miss with all this web 2.0 sh!t and stuff, man? I miss the days when you would call up your local bulletin board system on your 300 baud half-duplex modem and just post whatever you were thinking, man. And you didn't have to think too deep cuz at 300 baud you couldn't type too much. And you could have like a cool screen name like 'Kreton Metallicon' or 'Zerk the Infinite' and just like, be whatever, maaan. Someone should invent something like that only, like, with pictures, so if you didn't have anything to say, you could just snap a pic with your cellphone and put that up. Like, 'Hey, this is me. This is what I look like right now. I'm like feeling all baked and sh!t.' Only without having to write anything."
I can feel myself getting shallower already.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Oh so busy
The complaints have been pouring in here at headquarters that I haven't blahrged lately. Well, I'll tell ya', I been heap busy. See, it's springtime here in Fort TomCollins, and with springtime comes a whole host of new and exciting tasks, a lot of which require me to be outside while streaming bar-rockin' country music over the deck speakers.
With sprintime also comes the revelation that the weather is going to change rapidly and dramatically from day-to-day, so it also means planning ahead is difficult, and you've just gotta get done what you can when the weather holds.
Oh, and I suppose there were some high Holy Days over the last week.
We had a little snow and a little rain over the last week, so I decided to knock off a task that started with "dig a 20 foot trench" on Saturday. It was very exciting because it involved something I'd never done before - run electrical conduit and then pull a line through it. This meant I got to buy a new tool - a 75' steel fish tape. Oh joy of joys, I loves when I get to get a new tool. Plus, while I was there in the electrical department, I found that they sold those infrared thermometers with the laser pointer built in that let you measure the temperature of anything within about 15 feet, so I picked me up one of those for no reason at all. Happy Easter to me.
The back pond now has an electrical outlet at the east end (on a different circuit from the west end), so I can stop running the pump and heater at that end off an extension cord. It only took about six hours of work to do that, but I did it with just one trip to the store for supplies.
I also managed to get the cap off the pickup (in anticiaption of getting mulch and compost next weekend) and to do a routine drain/clean/fill on the hot tub. Things I did not get done included dethatching the lawn, taking the blower off the lawn tractor and installing the mowing deck, and fertilizing the lawn. It's supposed to snow again this week, so maybe that would have been premature. But a bunch of the neighbors have started up their sprinklers already, and my 35000 sq ft of brown isn't looking so good in comparison to their lush green. And, naturally, I have deeply ingrained in my DNA the need to compete with the neighbors on lawn quality. It's just one of those things. You can ask my dad about where that gene came from, if you get the chance.
I believe that this year I am going to spring for a tonneau cover for the pickup bed. I'd like some way to throw my fishing stuff in the bed and not worry about it being stolen, and I always remove the cap in the summer so I can get mulch and compost and the like dumped in the back. There was one on craigslist a while back very reasonably priced and the right color, but I didn't buy it.
Yesterday, our fambly and another went to Fort Fun to play laser tag. It was fun. I came in second in the first game (which I think I would have won had I not backed into a wall in a hurry, which somehow managed to shut down my vest and gun for the remaining 2.5 minutes of the game, and I only lost by ~50 points out of ~1200), but I won the second most triumphantly. I was the only person over the age of 10 in the second game, though, so it wasn't much of a triumph.
Today I finally broke down and signed up for facebook. I did this because I needed to get some information for the Tax Day Tea Party Protest downtown, and they put it on an individual facebook account. If they'd done a business account, you wouldn't have needed to be a facebook member to see the info. But Tea Party protests are individually organized, not part of a business, so whatever. When I created the account, it told me that my sister had invited me to be her friend, so I clicked on allowing that. Then it found all the millions of the rest of you out there who it thought I might want to be friend with, but I skipped over that on account of I really don't plan to ever use it. Don't get all offended.
With sprintime also comes the revelation that the weather is going to change rapidly and dramatically from day-to-day, so it also means planning ahead is difficult, and you've just gotta get done what you can when the weather holds.
Oh, and I suppose there were some high Holy Days over the last week.
We had a little snow and a little rain over the last week, so I decided to knock off a task that started with "dig a 20 foot trench" on Saturday. It was very exciting because it involved something I'd never done before - run electrical conduit and then pull a line through it. This meant I got to buy a new tool - a 75' steel fish tape. Oh joy of joys, I loves when I get to get a new tool. Plus, while I was there in the electrical department, I found that they sold those infrared thermometers with the laser pointer built in that let you measure the temperature of anything within about 15 feet, so I picked me up one of those for no reason at all. Happy Easter to me.
The back pond now has an electrical outlet at the east end (on a different circuit from the west end), so I can stop running the pump and heater at that end off an extension cord. It only took about six hours of work to do that, but I did it with just one trip to the store for supplies.
I also managed to get the cap off the pickup (in anticiaption of getting mulch and compost next weekend) and to do a routine drain/clean/fill on the hot tub. Things I did not get done included dethatching the lawn, taking the blower off the lawn tractor and installing the mowing deck, and fertilizing the lawn. It's supposed to snow again this week, so maybe that would have been premature. But a bunch of the neighbors have started up their sprinklers already, and my 35000 sq ft of brown isn't looking so good in comparison to their lush green. And, naturally, I have deeply ingrained in my DNA the need to compete with the neighbors on lawn quality. It's just one of those things. You can ask my dad about where that gene came from, if you get the chance.
I believe that this year I am going to spring for a tonneau cover for the pickup bed. I'd like some way to throw my fishing stuff in the bed and not worry about it being stolen, and I always remove the cap in the summer so I can get mulch and compost and the like dumped in the back. There was one on craigslist a while back very reasonably priced and the right color, but I didn't buy it.
Yesterday, our fambly and another went to Fort Fun to play laser tag. It was fun. I came in second in the first game (which I think I would have won had I not backed into a wall in a hurry, which somehow managed to shut down my vest and gun for the remaining 2.5 minutes of the game, and I only lost by ~50 points out of ~1200), but I won the second most triumphantly. I was the only person over the age of 10 in the second game, though, so it wasn't much of a triumph.
Today I finally broke down and signed up for facebook. I did this because I needed to get some information for the Tax Day Tea Party Protest downtown, and they put it on an individual facebook account. If they'd done a business account, you wouldn't have needed to be a facebook member to see the info. But Tea Party protests are individually organized, not part of a business, so whatever. When I created the account, it told me that my sister had invited me to be her friend, so I clicked on allowing that. Then it found all the millions of the rest of you out there who it thought I might want to be friend with, but I skipped over that on account of I really don't plan to ever use it. Don't get all offended.
Monday, April 06, 2009
We should refinance every week
Consolidating two loans (a mortgage and a HELOC) from the same bank into one mortgage from the same bank turns out to be considered a "cash out" refinance, which as far as I can tell means they screw you for a whole lot more origination fees and paperwork, including requiring a walk-through appraisal.
Being the cheery, happy-go-lucky guy that I am, I tend just to see the bright side of all of this - and I mean on top of the $350/mo in interest we'll save with the new rate vs. the old. Yes, we've actually cleaned up the place. Vacuumed the whole house tonight, we did. We even got two vacuum going at once - I did the upstairs and first floor and half the basement with the fancy-shmancy Sebo X4 Automatic, while The Mrs. Slowpoke did the other half of the basement with the Hoover Fusion Cyclonic (a vacuum which, oddly, is almost to the penny 10% the cost of the other vacuum (and it shows)).
In addition to that, I got to clean all four of the toilets. It went like this:
I also got to fix some of those niggling little problems. Like, I patched a hole in The Childrens' bathroom wall that resulted when the little stopper that's supposed to keep the doorknob from crashing through the wall if you fling the door open broke and let the doorknob crash through the wall (not the first time, upon inspection). And I patched another hole in the master bedroom door that resulted from when that little stopper that's supposed to keep the doorknob from crashing into the wall if you fling the door open did not break and instead punched a hole right through the door (and thus, the doorknob only made a small dent in the wall instead of punching right through it). I've replaced those hinge-mounted things with ones that are on the baseboard and contact the wood frame of the door, not the crappy veneer panel.
I also got some grout caulk to temporarily patch the missing grout in the kitchen. There are some slightly loose tiles in the kitchen due to shoddy workmanship, and all the grout around them is coming out. I took a piece of grout to the store to match the color to the grout caulk (which has sand in it so that it dries looking a lot more like grout than normal caulk would). The one that matched the piece in the store did not match when it was in the floor (I would say the color on the tube was a very loose approximation of the actual color). So I went back and got another color. That one didn't match either. So I mixed the two together and got pretty close to the right color. Close enough that you wouldn't notice if you didn't know the spots I patched, which you don't.
I also re-attached the trim around our attic hatch that got knocked off when we had a giant wind storm and the attic hatch started flying around. Plus, I cleaned the ceiling in the master shower.
Yes, it's like some other fambly lives here. Some fambly that isn't a bunch of slobs.
Being the cheery, happy-go-lucky guy that I am, I tend just to see the bright side of all of this - and I mean on top of the $350/mo in interest we'll save with the new rate vs. the old. Yes, we've actually cleaned up the place. Vacuumed the whole house tonight, we did. We even got two vacuum going at once - I did the upstairs and first floor and half the basement with the fancy-shmancy Sebo X4 Automatic, while The Mrs. Slowpoke did the other half of the basement with the Hoover Fusion Cyclonic (a vacuum which, oddly, is almost to the penny 10% the cost of the other vacuum (and it shows)).
In addition to that, I got to clean all four of the toilets. It went like this:
Me, CherkyB: "Which rooms should I vacuum?"Thank god only one of the toilets is black. That one needs to be buffed after cleaning in order to prevent streaks. It's almost like it needs a couple coats of carnauba wax.
The Mrs.: "The rooms aren't ready to vacuum. You should clean all the toilets."
Me, CherkyB: "I didn't ask if I should clean the toilets. I asked which rooms I should vacuum."
The Mrs.: "Here are some sanitizing wipees. You'll probably want to put on some vinyl gloves. The toilets are really disgusting."
Me, CherkyB: [in a whiny voice] "I didn't ask for wipees. I asked what rooms I should vacuum."
The Mrs.: "Make sure you get all four toilets."
I also got to fix some of those niggling little problems. Like, I patched a hole in The Childrens' bathroom wall that resulted when the little stopper that's supposed to keep the doorknob from crashing through the wall if you fling the door open broke and let the doorknob crash through the wall (not the first time, upon inspection). And I patched another hole in the master bedroom door that resulted from when that little stopper that's supposed to keep the doorknob from crashing into the wall if you fling the door open did not break and instead punched a hole right through the door (and thus, the doorknob only made a small dent in the wall instead of punching right through it). I've replaced those hinge-mounted things with ones that are on the baseboard and contact the wood frame of the door, not the crappy veneer panel.
I also got some grout caulk to temporarily patch the missing grout in the kitchen. There are some slightly loose tiles in the kitchen due to shoddy workmanship, and all the grout around them is coming out. I took a piece of grout to the store to match the color to the grout caulk (which has sand in it so that it dries looking a lot more like grout than normal caulk would). The one that matched the piece in the store did not match when it was in the floor (I would say the color on the tube was a very loose approximation of the actual color). So I went back and got another color. That one didn't match either. So I mixed the two together and got pretty close to the right color. Close enough that you wouldn't notice if you didn't know the spots I patched, which you don't.
I also re-attached the trim around our attic hatch that got knocked off when we had a giant wind storm and the attic hatch started flying around. Plus, I cleaned the ceiling in the master shower.
Yes, it's like some other fambly lives here. Some fambly that isn't a bunch of slobs.
CherkyB, Accidental Humorist
Those of you who know in IRL know that I have a tendency to answer every question with the same two word response. Sometimes, this is unexpectedly more funny than usual.
HannahC: "Sooo...whatcha doin' Dah?"
Me, CherkyB: "Your momma."
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Well, that sucked
We went to the Larimer County Boating and Fishing Expo today. It sucked. Good thing it was free.
We were supposed to have a blizzard last night-though-today that was going to drop 12"-14" of snow and have really high winds. It was windy alright, but I don't think we got more than an inch of snow. The wind managed to pile it up in drifts here and there that got a good foot deep, and so we got to have some fun driving through that on the dirt road behind our neighborhood on the way back from the Expo. My truck is now completely covered in slushy mud.
At least last night the snow was quite pretty. The Mrs. sat in the fambly room watching the snow fall in the wind and drinking heavily.
Which, for her, means she had one drink. A Black Russian, which is the only thing she ever drinks despite the utter scrumptiousness of my own drink recipes.
We were supposed to have a blizzard last night-though-today that was going to drop 12"-14" of snow and have really high winds. It was windy alright, but I don't think we got more than an inch of snow. The wind managed to pile it up in drifts here and there that got a good foot deep, and so we got to have some fun driving through that on the dirt road behind our neighborhood on the way back from the Expo. My truck is now completely covered in slushy mud.
At least last night the snow was quite pretty. The Mrs. sat in the fambly room watching the snow fall in the wind and drinking heavily.
Which, for her, means she had one drink. A Black Russian, which is the only thing she ever drinks despite the utter scrumptiousness of my own drink recipes.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Something Not to Do 19
So just yesterday, I was thinking to myself how it has been a while since I had posted anything in any of my episodic topic areas. Something Not to Do™ is one of my favorite series in that it manages to teach through the use of tragedy, not unlike Shakespeare or fine films from the 70's or Reno 911.
Then I got to thinking how I could do a very simple, short entry in Something Not to Do™ that said nothing but, "Get married." However, every time The Mrs.'s hillbilly brother, Billy, comes to visit, he reminds me about how his wife, Gordy, is still after close to four (?) years mad at me because not long before their wedding, Billy tried to get all serious in a consulting-with-the-elders way and he said to me, "So, any advice?" And naturally, I replied, "Yeah. Don't get married," because, well, duh, he'd known me for like 20 years what in the hell did he think I was going to say? And apparently I did this right in front of the bride-to-be, and she was so heart-shatteringly affected by this that to this day she is either still furious with me or is wondering if she should not have taken my advice, depending on which version of the story you hear.
So, ever mindful of this, I have to be very careful with the don't-get-married advice, as now The Mrs.'s little sister Ellie is getting married. But of course, I would never tell her not to get married, because telling a woman not to get married is like telling a lottery winner not to quit her job. But if, right before the wedding, D_ should come up to me and say, "Sooo...any advice on dealing with these Treeperson women?" it'll be a real struggle indeed for me not to just blurt out, "Yeah. Don't get married." Then I'd end up with two sisters-in-law who would be mad at me because they resent the truth of my wisdom, and it would make family reunions even more uncomfortable than they already are, and I'd probably be forced to sit out on the back porch alone in the cold rain and catch pneumonia. Again.
Though I'd get my revenge by taking them up to 12,000 feet whenever they visited in order to make them puke. Or, in the case of certain relatives, puke and have violent diarhea simultaneously. Your cats are no match for my altitude. Ha ha! [sinister laugh]
So, anyways, I'm trying to lay off the whole don't-get-married thing in front of The Mrs.'s family.
Which is a really long segue into the actual subject of today's post. If my wife is anything, she is a woman of her word (unless it involves promising not to buy something, in which case she is a woman of the exact opposite of her word), so true to her promise, she has decided to ratchet up the mean progressively until my blog is funny again.
When I came home today, The Mrs. was cooking dinner. Now, I know what you are thinking (because I can see you sounding it out slowly with your lips), "What is mean about cooking dinner?" Try to just keep quiet and not interrupt. Making dinner is not, in and of itself, mean. In fact, making a dinner that three out of the other three people in the house don't like, and then making a different dinner for two out of those three because they don't like it, but not for the third, is not really mean. Considerate in an inconsiderate way, perhaps, but not mean. So do let me go on.
Moments after taking off my shoes, my darling daughter HannahC bounded up to me and said, "Game?"
As temping as that grapefruit pitched slow across the plate may be, you must not under any circumstances respond with, "You mean, with people other than you?"
That, my friends, would be Something Not to Do.™
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Then I got to thinking how I could do a very simple, short entry in Something Not to Do™ that said nothing but, "Get married." However, every time The Mrs.'s hillbilly brother, Billy, comes to visit, he reminds me about how his wife, Gordy, is still after close to four (?) years mad at me because not long before their wedding, Billy tried to get all serious in a consulting-with-the-elders way and he said to me, "So, any advice?" And naturally, I replied, "Yeah. Don't get married," because, well, duh, he'd known me for like 20 years what in the hell did he think I was going to say? And apparently I did this right in front of the bride-to-be, and she was so heart-shatteringly affected by this that to this day she is either still furious with me or is wondering if she should not have taken my advice, depending on which version of the story you hear.
So, ever mindful of this, I have to be very careful with the don't-get-married advice, as now The Mrs.'s little sister Ellie is getting married. But of course, I would never tell her not to get married, because telling a woman not to get married is like telling a lottery winner not to quit her job. But if, right before the wedding, D_ should come up to me and say, "Sooo...any advice on dealing with these Treeperson women?" it'll be a real struggle indeed for me not to just blurt out, "Yeah. Don't get married." Then I'd end up with two sisters-in-law who would be mad at me because they resent the truth of my wisdom, and it would make family reunions even more uncomfortable than they already are, and I'd probably be forced to sit out on the back porch alone in the cold rain and catch pneumonia. Again.
Though I'd get my revenge by taking them up to 12,000 feet whenever they visited in order to make them puke. Or, in the case of certain relatives, puke and have violent diarhea simultaneously. Your cats are no match for my altitude. Ha ha! [sinister laugh]
So, anyways, I'm trying to lay off the whole don't-get-married thing in front of The Mrs.'s family.
Which is a really long segue into the actual subject of today's post. If my wife is anything, she is a woman of her word (unless it involves promising not to buy something, in which case she is a woman of the exact opposite of her word), so true to her promise, she has decided to ratchet up the mean progressively until my blog is funny again.
When I came home today, The Mrs. was cooking dinner. Now, I know what you are thinking (because I can see you sounding it out slowly with your lips), "What is mean about cooking dinner?" Try to just keep quiet and not interrupt. Making dinner is not, in and of itself, mean. In fact, making a dinner that three out of the other three people in the house don't like, and then making a different dinner for two out of those three because they don't like it, but not for the third, is not really mean. Considerate in an inconsiderate way, perhaps, but not mean. So do let me go on.
Moments after taking off my shoes, my darling daughter HannahC bounded up to me and said, "Game?"
Me, CherkyB: "Huh?"Of course, this infuriated The Mrs. She yelled, "I'm cooking dinner!"
HannahC: "Play game?"
Me, CherkyB, "Hannie, honey, I had a really hard day at work, and I just walked in. Why don't you go fetch me something from the garage first."
HannahC: "OK, Dah."
Me, CherkyB: "Of course you are."Then, let's say purely hypothetically, your wife starts rattling off with machine gun speed all the things she supposes you expect her to do (because they are, after all, the normal things a woman does for her husband (or so I read in books), and thus are very easy to think of). She builds up such an amazing list of things she knows she should be doing but is not with such speed that you can hardly even keep pace, but she wraps it all up with, "And I suppose you expect to have sex the way that you like it."
The Mrs.: "I don't have time to wait on you when I'm cooking dinner!"
Me, CherkyB: "No. Of course not."
The Mrs.: "I suppose you expect me to have a cold beer waiting when you walk in the door every day."
Me, CherkyB: "No. Of course I don't expect that."
As temping as that grapefruit pitched slow across the plate may be, you must not under any circumstances respond with, "You mean, with people other than you?"
That, my friends, would be Something Not to Do.™
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