Sometimes I'm just not that bright. I left towels in my dryer for two days, then washed them only to forget them again. What have I got against my towels? Aside the fact they're ugly but I'm not wasting the money replacing them, nothing is wrong with them. I loaded the dishwasher but didn't turn it on (you know it works better when it's been on). I haven't made my bed, well that's normal for me.
I just have a case of the I don't wannas. I don't want to do these things I know I should do. I had a kid home from school two days this week. One on Tuesday and the other one today. When I started running the vacuum I'd get the old...Mom I'm trying to sleep like you told me...blah blah...
I did clean two of our three bathrooms...but the third, which is the smallest and the one guests would see if we had any, is horrible. Seriously, the mens room at the Unocal station is probably cleaner. It's the "go to" toilet everyone, except me, uses. I'll admit it, I use the clean bathroom upstairs...might catch something using the one a few yards from me.
I would love to blame it on the winter dooldrums but it's not, our weather of late has been fairly rain free, peppered with only the occasional nonsticking snow (which is just the way I like it). Snow is expected tomorrow but eh whatever, I don't think it's going to be a big deal.
I am itching however for Spring, and growing weary seeing the dead looking trees, and monochromatic landscapes. I'm starting to long for varying shades of springtime colors and warmer daytime temperatures. Until then....
© 2009 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Toxic Waste
So, here I am laying bed all snugly and warm, my head swirling with images of George Clooney about to ravage my body, when I start to sniff, both in the dream and in reality. You know, those brief moments while you're still asleep but at the same vaguely awake. I hear a toilet flush, moments later I feel the bed bounce a little, George Clooney is banished from my consciousness, as I become more aware of a stench filling the room.
I cover my head and think to myself, George Clooney come back, I tightly shut my eyes, and continue albeit vainly trying to get the dream back, but unless George has a violent case of the diarrhea, it isn't happening. Frankly that's just not that appealing to me anyway. A short while later the alarm was going off where the My Dick song could be heard and I slam the alarm, fall back asleep, and again George has returned and all I can think is, NOT NOW....there isn't enough time.
I wake again to a different song and shut off the alarm and ramble out of bed. Thus begins the day.
The My Dick Song Explained
It was 1974, and my mom was very much into pop music and AM Radio, and in our area, KFRC was the station everyone listened to. Dr Don Rose was the AM jock and a powerhouse, telling silly one-liners, talking over the music, singing along, everything a morning jock was supposed to be before shock took over. He'd blow horns, and woke people up with smile. I know it seems silly and pedestrian now but back then radio was supposed to be fun. His wake-up, drive-time slot was number one for a decade; long after I had stopped listening in favor of better music. Music in the 70's was different, especially before Disco and the Bee Gees, but still upbeat, however misheard lyrics are a universal thing especially in the days before lyrics displayed on liner notes, the internet, and closed captioning (for the TV crowd). Hence the My Dick song. A vaguely recalled group called Pilot penned a hit with Magic in 1974. I guess they were Scottish, which could be why I always believed the song was about some guy singing about his dick. Here's the Youtube of the song and you can decide for yourself, is he not clearly singing MY DICK, instead of Magic?
So, for however long it remained on the charts and popular that particular song was played every morning at 7:35, just after the news break on KFRC, has been forever known, if only to me, the My Dick song. Over the years I'm sure I've misheard other lyrics but none have stuck with me the way that song has.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Monday, November 17, 2008
Just Another Monday
Not Ready For Prime Time or Prime Rib
As I mentioned Saturday the family went out to lunch, though the location was a surprise, the reason wasn't, it was to celebrate this Ranter's birthday (which is actually today). The place we went to was fairly upscale, and the food was very good but I have to say my family has the WORST table manners. Think about an early Simpson episode showing the family gathered around the table when Lisa still ate meat and you'll get the idea. If you don't watch the show just imagine people shoveling food into their mouths.
Looks like I need to plan a fancy dinner at home to teach my family some lessons on table manners. Now that being said, the kids are well behaved in most situations and eating establishments, they just lack the refinement. There was sleeve to nose action, ignoring the cloth napkin in lieu of pants or shirt, little nitpiky things that would make a mom crazy. Like Fredo, who ordered a hamburger but decided he didn't like the bun, so picked the meat up and ate that with his fingers. Even dipped it in ketchup. Pissboy was no better in his table manners shoveling large..too large forkfuls of salad into his mouth and chewing like a cow. Rainbird did maintain himself, and kicked children when appropriate but that led to usual loud voice..."why did you kick me?"
Yeah it was a proud moment for me, but thankfully it was just lunch and not dinner and I'm equally thankful we ate early before the place was crowded. Now that I know what needs to be done I can work on it at home. Table manners 101.
Now, I will have to say Fredo did surprise me this morning, first thing he said when he came downstairs this morning was "Happy Birthday Mom." I was kinda blown away because normally in the hustle and bustle of the mornings, I'm lucky to get a hello out of either kid. Fredo gets up very early to catch the 7:20 bus, so that was the best gift. I'm serious, I'm getting teary eyed just writing about it. Pissboy got up, told me that I have to wash his hoodie because he got something weird on it, his bird is running low on food, and he needs more toothpaste. He did say his usual, "by mom, love ya see ya later," as he walked out the door. I'll just pretend he said happy birthday.
I'll admit it I have a love/hate thing about birthdays and I'm surprised at myself for spending so much time on this, because really I don't care that much. It's nice to have my birthday acknowledged, but I dunno. Okay, I'm pissed. I'm pissed off that Pissboy asked me last night what I wanted for my birthday, I'm pissed off that his father said NOTHING. I just told him it was a little late to be asking that--I mean for fucks sake my birthday is today.
If I waited until the day before to plan what to give any of them....Ohmyfuckingod, they'd feel so unloved and would be so pissy about it...but it's okay when it's just 'Mom's' birthday. I know everyone is just focused on the great turkey dinner I'm going to prepare next week but still.
Pissboy is very artistic, he could have made me a card, though he is totally old enough to say to his father, I want to get mom something for her birthday, can you drive me to the mall. Might have given his father the much needed kick in the ass he deserves too. I'm sorry going to the store and buying a card on the day of someone's birthday isn't a great thing either unless it is an office buddy...it's an afterthought.
I know we/I let men off easy when it comes to that kind of stuff, like waiting until the last minute and we've all seen florist shops packed to the gills with men picking out just about anything on Valentines Day so they don't go home empty handed. Or the joke about men going to shop for the wives/mothers/girlfriends on Christmas Eve and that's because for a lot of men it's true. But don't they understand what they are really saying is, "I don't really give a crap but will do it to get her off my back for another year." Heavy emphasis on the I really don't give a crap part.
Anyway, today I'm going out for lunch again, this time with my mother in law, who has gifts for me. We're going to a Mexican place where all the money is put into the food and none is spent on atmosphere. I have no idea what I'm going to cook for dinner tonight. I
I can't believe I actually care....but then again...Fredo did wish me a Happy Birthday.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
As I mentioned Saturday the family went out to lunch, though the location was a surprise, the reason wasn't, it was to celebrate this Ranter's birthday (which is actually today). The place we went to was fairly upscale, and the food was very good but I have to say my family has the WORST table manners. Think about an early Simpson episode showing the family gathered around the table when Lisa still ate meat and you'll get the idea. If you don't watch the show just imagine people shoveling food into their mouths.
Looks like I need to plan a fancy dinner at home to teach my family some lessons on table manners. Now that being said, the kids are well behaved in most situations and eating establishments, they just lack the refinement. There was sleeve to nose action, ignoring the cloth napkin in lieu of pants or shirt, little nitpiky things that would make a mom crazy. Like Fredo, who ordered a hamburger but decided he didn't like the bun, so picked the meat up and ate that with his fingers. Even dipped it in ketchup. Pissboy was no better in his table manners shoveling large..too large forkfuls of salad into his mouth and chewing like a cow. Rainbird did maintain himself, and kicked children when appropriate but that led to usual loud voice..."why did you kick me?"
Yeah it was a proud moment for me, but thankfully it was just lunch and not dinner and I'm equally thankful we ate early before the place was crowded. Now that I know what needs to be done I can work on it at home. Table manners 101.
Now, I will have to say Fredo did surprise me this morning, first thing he said when he came downstairs this morning was "Happy Birthday Mom." I was kinda blown away because normally in the hustle and bustle of the mornings, I'm lucky to get a hello out of either kid. Fredo gets up very early to catch the 7:20 bus, so that was the best gift. I'm serious, I'm getting teary eyed just writing about it. Pissboy got up, told me that I have to wash his hoodie because he got something weird on it, his bird is running low on food, and he needs more toothpaste. He did say his usual, "by mom, love ya see ya later," as he walked out the door. I'll just pretend he said happy birthday.
I'll admit it I have a love/hate thing about birthdays and I'm surprised at myself for spending so much time on this, because really I don't care that much. It's nice to have my birthday acknowledged, but I dunno. Okay, I'm pissed. I'm pissed off that Pissboy asked me last night what I wanted for my birthday, I'm pissed off that his father said NOTHING. I just told him it was a little late to be asking that--I mean for fucks sake my birthday is today.
If I waited until the day before to plan what to give any of them....Ohmyfuckingod, they'd feel so unloved and would be so pissy about it...but it's okay when it's just 'Mom's' birthday. I know everyone is just focused on the great turkey dinner I'm going to prepare next week but still.
Pissboy is very artistic, he could have made me a card, though he is totally old enough to say to his father, I want to get mom something for her birthday, can you drive me to the mall. Might have given his father the much needed kick in the ass he deserves too. I'm sorry going to the store and buying a card on the day of someone's birthday isn't a great thing either unless it is an office buddy...it's an afterthought.
I know we/I let men off easy when it comes to that kind of stuff, like waiting until the last minute and we've all seen florist shops packed to the gills with men picking out just about anything on Valentines Day so they don't go home empty handed. Or the joke about men going to shop for the wives/mothers/girlfriends on Christmas Eve and that's because for a lot of men it's true. But don't they understand what they are really saying is, "I don't really give a crap but will do it to get her off my back for another year." Heavy emphasis on the I really don't give a crap part.
Anyway, today I'm going out for lunch again, this time with my mother in law, who has gifts for me. We're going to a Mexican place where all the money is put into the food and none is spent on atmosphere. I have no idea what I'm going to cook for dinner tonight. I
I can't believe I actually care....but then again...Fredo did wish me a Happy Birthday.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Houston We have a Desk Chair
The Happiest Place on Earth Meets the Grinch
Yes, I broke my own rule and took Rainbird (aka Mr. Ranter) to Tarjay to look for a desk chair our Tarjay's remodel has been completed and it's absolutely gorgeous inside. It's a pleasure shopping there but bringing Rainbird was a huge mistake, all he did was complain, and whine and make me crazy.
We found a chair he approved of, like I wasn't capable of getting it myself and stuck it in the cart then we walked around the store. I was looking for some large pillow like things the boys can use for when they sit on the floor watching TV or playing video games. They have some fancy ones that are specific for gaming but I'm not spending that kind of cash on it. I'm thinking with the way they are on things somewhere around 20
bucks is reasonable. I'm not spending no 70 bucks for something like this ....Especially when all they need is something like this...Which ironically I just ordered.
I'm not thrilled with the color but it will do.
Of course the main reason for going and enduring his whining was to get a new desk chair and they had a few to choose from, but we settled quickly on this one...Eh, it will work and it was fairly simple to put together.
We also have a working washer again, I guess a wire or two was loose and that was causing the door not to open when the cycle was finished. Let's hope it continues to work without incident, because I have tons of laundry to catch up on. We're talking a lot.
Today Rainbird is taking me out to lunch with the kids...not sure why but he's made a big point of telling me nearly every day about it. Not even sure where we're going. Time will tell I guess.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Yes, I broke my own rule and took Rainbird (aka Mr. Ranter) to Tarjay to look for a desk chair our Tarjay's remodel has been completed and it's absolutely gorgeous inside. It's a pleasure shopping there but bringing Rainbird was a huge mistake, all he did was complain, and whine and make me crazy.
We found a chair he approved of, like I wasn't capable of getting it myself and stuck it in the cart then we walked around the store. I was looking for some large pillow like things the boys can use for when they sit on the floor watching TV or playing video games. They have some fancy ones that are specific for gaming but I'm not spending that kind of cash on it. I'm thinking with the way they are on things somewhere around 20
bucks is reasonable. I'm not spending no 70 bucks for something like this ....Especially when all they need is something like this...Which ironically I just ordered.I'm not thrilled with the color but it will do.
Of course the main reason for going and enduring his whining was to get a new desk chair and they had a few to choose from, but we settled quickly on this one...Eh, it will work and it was fairly simple to put together.
We also have a working washer again, I guess a wire or two was loose and that was causing the door not to open when the cycle was finished. Let's hope it continues to work without incident, because I have tons of laundry to catch up on. We're talking a lot.
Today Rainbird is taking me out to lunch with the kids...not sure why but he's made a big point of telling me nearly every day about it. Not even sure where we're going. Time will tell I guess.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Friday, November 14, 2008
Call Me Slacker
Slacker Slacker
Yes, I've been slacking off lately on the whole blog thing, between gearing up for Thanksgiving and the impending doom that is Christmas. I've just been busy. Monday, I cleaned and shampooed 14 year old Pissboy's room, then kinda tried the same in Fredo's room without the same success, but it looks a whole lot better. I also discovered after doing a load of white clothes my front-load washer wouldn't unlock, yes with the clothes trapped inside. Tuesday, I spent much of the holiday stuck in a stylist's chair getting the dark brown stripe removed from the top of my head, then I came home and spent 40 minutes on the phone with the maker of my washer trying to figure out who to call for service--stupid outsorsing. I want my washer fixed not the weather in India though I will try that recipe for Tikka Masala.
I hung up and called Sears they're coming Friday and I hope they fix it. Wednesday, was a field trip with Fredo's class to the mountain by the Ranter Homestead, I didn't ride the school bus with the other parents but instead, just met the class there. Okay, I walked down the street. Did I mention it was pouring rain? Did I mention the wind? Yes, plenty of both but despite the weather I did learn some things I didn't know before. But later I had to memorize my shopping list, so all that new information was promtly forgotten. My brain can only handle so much stuff in it at one time, so when something new is learned something else is pushed out, which might explain why I forgot where I put the shopping list to begin with.
Thursday was quiet, with no clothes wash--I wouldn't take a chance, but I had to watch Mr. Ranter sulk because I told him I couldn't go out to lunch with him because my only pair of pants were dirty from the hike on the mountain. Just puttered and cleaned out the laundry room. Watched a little of the news but got annoyed and shut off the TV. I did watch a little of Survivor last night and I only have one thing to say after however many seasons of that show, how can you NOT know how to make fire using a flint? Fire is a mainstay of the show and everyone that goes on it should know and have practiced before they even auditioned, and certain after they did how to make a fire using a flint.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Yes, I've been slacking off lately on the whole blog thing, between gearing up for Thanksgiving and the impending doom that is Christmas. I've just been busy. Monday, I cleaned and shampooed 14 year old Pissboy's room, then kinda tried the same in Fredo's room without the same success, but it looks a whole lot better. I also discovered after doing a load of white clothes my front-load washer wouldn't unlock, yes with the clothes trapped inside. Tuesday, I spent much of the holiday stuck in a stylist's chair getting the dark brown stripe removed from the top of my head, then I came home and spent 40 minutes on the phone with the maker of my washer trying to figure out who to call for service--stupid outsorsing. I want my washer fixed not the weather in India though I will try that recipe for Tikka Masala.
I hung up and called Sears they're coming Friday and I hope they fix it. Wednesday, was a field trip with Fredo's class to the mountain by the Ranter Homestead, I didn't ride the school bus with the other parents but instead, just met the class there. Okay, I walked down the street. Did I mention it was pouring rain? Did I mention the wind? Yes, plenty of both but despite the weather I did learn some things I didn't know before. But later I had to memorize my shopping list, so all that new information was promtly forgotten. My brain can only handle so much stuff in it at one time, so when something new is learned something else is pushed out, which might explain why I forgot where I put the shopping list to begin with.
Thursday was quiet, with no clothes wash--I wouldn't take a chance, but I had to watch Mr. Ranter sulk because I told him I couldn't go out to lunch with him because my only pair of pants were dirty from the hike on the mountain. Just puttered and cleaned out the laundry room. Watched a little of the news but got annoyed and shut off the TV. I did watch a little of Survivor last night and I only have one thing to say after however many seasons of that show, how can you NOT know how to make fire using a flint? Fire is a mainstay of the show and everyone that goes on it should know and have practiced before they even auditioned, and certain after they did how to make a fire using a flint.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
One Man Gathers What Another...
Monday Blues
The day started off not so bad, go up, got Fredo ready for school, saw the bus leave. Really the whole day was fairly uneventful and I was looking forward to a nice quiet evening after the kids went to bed. Piss-boy announced that he needed to use our computer, which was fine, so he set to work typing away hours later went to print. I had told him to wait until I got there; I was busy cooking dinner at that moment. Suddenly I heard him say it wouldn't print.
Uckfay
I knew it was going to happen and of course it was going happen when he needed to print something for school. I had found the black ink, but our printer is stupid, and believes even if you choose black and white, it still needs to use color (which it was totally devoid of). Did I mention our printer is old? So old they no longer make it...so old they no longer sell the ink for it.
I knew my MIL had a printer she had gotten when she purchased her laptop some three years ago, which she never used (the printer; the laptop she uses everyday). Naturally she was out with her neighbor, shopping at Kohls no less, so I called her cell phone. She said she was going to be on her way home soon, and said, since I have a key, I was more than welcome to go over, and get the printer. I figured since my father-in-law is as deaf as a doornail, I could just slip in and out before she even got home and maybe help myself to a soda.
I got to her house to discover my key for her door didn't work but I continued trying different keys, none of which worked. I went back to the car, and called Piss-boy to remind him NOT to let his father's Brussels sprouts burn. As I hung up, her friend drove up and I explained my key didn't work, so she of course had to check to make sure her key still worked...don't ask. Then Father-in-law's key. Both of those worked. She gave me his key. I went into the empty closet (I'm not kidding the only thing in this closet was the vacuum, and the printer box) and got the box. Sprinted to the car, and drove home.
Thankfully dinner was ready before I left the house (except for those Brussels sprouts that Piss-boy didn't let burn), so opened the box and set to work hooking it up. Now normally the hooking up of anything, like the putting together of stuff, is husband's domain, but I couldn't wait for him. I followed the instructions and it worked.
Yay me....Meanwhile husband came home for dinner, bellowing about where this was or that...give me this...bring me that, but since I was busy, I didn't have to deal with that. After I printed the assignment for Piss-boy, husband again mentioned that he was still looking for a piece of paper he acquired from last year. I'm good. Very good. I found it. Stuck in a file he told me to put it in, I don't know why because he has his own place to put that crap in, but for some reason decided NOT to. He's lucky I thought to look the file labeled HUSBAND'S CRAP. Normally that's where I stick all the receipts for the planter box err ah Hot Tub.
Soon he returned to work to finish his shift, grateful probably on many levels, one being that he doesn't have to dea with hooking up the printer when he got home from work and the other being that I found that paper. No one in this house is grateful for my chicken. That would be too much to ask.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
The day started off not so bad, go up, got Fredo ready for school, saw the bus leave. Really the whole day was fairly uneventful and I was looking forward to a nice quiet evening after the kids went to bed. Piss-boy announced that he needed to use our computer, which was fine, so he set to work typing away hours later went to print. I had told him to wait until I got there; I was busy cooking dinner at that moment. Suddenly I heard him say it wouldn't print.
Uckfay
I knew it was going to happen and of course it was going happen when he needed to print something for school. I had found the black ink, but our printer is stupid, and believes even if you choose black and white, it still needs to use color (which it was totally devoid of). Did I mention our printer is old? So old they no longer make it...so old they no longer sell the ink for it.
I knew my MIL had a printer she had gotten when she purchased her laptop some three years ago, which she never used (the printer; the laptop she uses everyday). Naturally she was out with her neighbor, shopping at Kohls no less, so I called her cell phone. She said she was going to be on her way home soon, and said, since I have a key, I was more than welcome to go over, and get the printer. I figured since my father-in-law is as deaf as a doornail, I could just slip in and out before she even got home and maybe help myself to a soda.
I got to her house to discover my key for her door didn't work but I continued trying different keys, none of which worked. I went back to the car, and called Piss-boy to remind him NOT to let his father's Brussels sprouts burn. As I hung up, her friend drove up and I explained my key didn't work, so she of course had to check to make sure her key still worked...don't ask. Then Father-in-law's key. Both of those worked. She gave me his key. I went into the empty closet (I'm not kidding the only thing in this closet was the vacuum, and the printer box) and got the box. Sprinted to the car, and drove home.
Thankfully dinner was ready before I left the house (except for those Brussels sprouts that Piss-boy didn't let burn), so opened the box and set to work hooking it up. Now normally the hooking up of anything, like the putting together of stuff, is husband's domain, but I couldn't wait for him. I followed the instructions and it worked.
Yay me....Meanwhile husband came home for dinner, bellowing about where this was or that...give me this...bring me that, but since I was busy, I didn't have to deal with that. After I printed the assignment for Piss-boy, husband again mentioned that he was still looking for a piece of paper he acquired from last year. I'm good. Very good. I found it. Stuck in a file he told me to put it in, I don't know why because he has his own place to put that crap in, but for some reason decided NOT to. He's lucky I thought to look the file labeled HUSBAND'S CRAP. Normally that's where I stick all the receipts for the planter box err ah Hot Tub.
Soon he returned to work to finish his shift, grateful probably on many levels, one being that he doesn't have to dea with hooking up the printer when he got home from work and the other being that I found that paper. No one in this house is grateful for my chicken. That would be too much to ask.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Friday, October 24, 2008
The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men Often Go Arwy
Ethay Arterstay Otshay
You might recall on Monday, I posted about our adventures getting the flu shot. Well, as it turns out, the shot we all received wasn't exactly good. By 'good' I don't mean toxic or deadly it's just not good. Apparently the hospital got a batch of the flu shots that were shipped too cold, and virus held inside didn't survive the cold temperatures to provide the needed immunity. So that first shot we're now referring as the Starter Shot. We're all not happy about it, and of course I knew Fredo would be the most upset but he actually understood, and that coupled with the promise of ice cream after seems to be okay with going again.
I told Piss-boy about it and his only response was, "uckfay." My eyebrow arched at hearing him say that but to his credit he didn't exactly say the other word...just pig Latin version. My eyes lowered and soon I found myself uttering, "uckfay" too. Somehow it just seems appropriate.
Of Birds and Windows
Yesterday as you can tell just wasn't a great day, though it wasn't exactly a bad day either. While unloading the bags of groceries I purchased at the super cheap but somehow sad place, I heard a small bang on the window. I waited a few minutes before venturing outside to see if anything was still around. A small bird laid on his back but I could tell it was still breathing so I closed the door and returned inside to wait a few minutes. As per the directions received previously by our local Audubon society, I waited 15 minutes and again checked, the bird was still on his back, but also still breathing. So, I went into the garage and got a box, put an old sweatshirt of Fredo's in the bottom of it, and went back outside. I gingerly picked up the bird with a gloved hand, and put it upright into the box, covered it lightly and returned into the house.
I waited the customary amount of time (roughly an hour and half) before returning outside, normally I'd find the box empty but the bird was still inside. It hadn't moved but was still very much alive and somewhat startled at my opening of the box. I closed the lid again and left the box alone for another hour. When Fredo came home from school together this time we peaked into the box and the bird was still there in the same position and still alive, so I called the Audubon society and relayed to them the story. They said they'd call back and let me know when someone could pick up the bird. I checked on the bird an hour or so later and the bird had moved but was still inside the box. A short while someone from the Audubon society called me back, and said he was sorry but no one could pick the bird up until the next day. I explained that the bird had moved in the box to a different spot and he seemed encouraged. He said to call back just before the office closed to give him an update.
About 15 minutes to 5 I looked outside again and the bird wasn't in the box but instead had moved to the lawn. I called them back and they said that it was unusual for a bird to still hang out that long, so I should poke some air holes into the box, put in a warm towel, some water, and put the bird back in it, and then cover the box with another towel to thwart the efforts of the bird to escape. Dutifully I did as told, punching several holes into the box, adding a nice but old fluffy towel, and some water, then I returned outside and found the bird in the same spot.
I tried to get the bird into the box but it had other ideas and hopped away from me, I continued to pursue it but soon it was out of the front yard and into the much vaster green space adjacent our house. I called them back just a minute before they closed for the night, explained that they didn't need to come, the bird had left. They were happy the bird was able to get away and to call them back if it did return.
A before dusk settled in I ventured again outside, and saw what I believe to be that bird, I stepped closer and it again hopped away, I carefully took another step and flew into the air landing on a nearby tree.
Damn thing didn't even thank me. But upon further inspection of that old sweatshirt, it did leave some crap behind...I guess that's enough.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
You might recall on Monday, I posted about our adventures getting the flu shot. Well, as it turns out, the shot we all received wasn't exactly good. By 'good' I don't mean toxic or deadly it's just not good. Apparently the hospital got a batch of the flu shots that were shipped too cold, and virus held inside didn't survive the cold temperatures to provide the needed immunity. So that first shot we're now referring as the Starter Shot. We're all not happy about it, and of course I knew Fredo would be the most upset but he actually understood, and that coupled with the promise of ice cream after seems to be okay with going again.
I told Piss-boy about it and his only response was, "uckfay." My eyebrow arched at hearing him say that but to his credit he didn't exactly say the other word...just pig Latin version. My eyes lowered and soon I found myself uttering, "uckfay" too. Somehow it just seems appropriate.
Of Birds and Windows
Yesterday as you can tell just wasn't a great day, though it wasn't exactly a bad day either. While unloading the bags of groceries I purchased at the super cheap but somehow sad place, I heard a small bang on the window. I waited a few minutes before venturing outside to see if anything was still around. A small bird laid on his back but I could tell it was still breathing so I closed the door and returned inside to wait a few minutes. As per the directions received previously by our local Audubon society, I waited 15 minutes and again checked, the bird was still on his back, but also still breathing. So, I went into the garage and got a box, put an old sweatshirt of Fredo's in the bottom of it, and went back outside. I gingerly picked up the bird with a gloved hand, and put it upright into the box, covered it lightly and returned into the house.
I waited the customary amount of time (roughly an hour and half) before returning outside, normally I'd find the box empty but the bird was still inside. It hadn't moved but was still very much alive and somewhat startled at my opening of the box. I closed the lid again and left the box alone for another hour. When Fredo came home from school together this time we peaked into the box and the bird was still there in the same position and still alive, so I called the Audubon society and relayed to them the story. They said they'd call back and let me know when someone could pick up the bird. I checked on the bird an hour or so later and the bird had moved but was still inside the box. A short while someone from the Audubon society called me back, and said he was sorry but no one could pick the bird up until the next day. I explained that the bird had moved in the box to a different spot and he seemed encouraged. He said to call back just before the office closed to give him an update.
About 15 minutes to 5 I looked outside again and the bird wasn't in the box but instead had moved to the lawn. I called them back and they said that it was unusual for a bird to still hang out that long, so I should poke some air holes into the box, put in a warm towel, some water, and put the bird back in it, and then cover the box with another towel to thwart the efforts of the bird to escape. Dutifully I did as told, punching several holes into the box, adding a nice but old fluffy towel, and some water, then I returned outside and found the bird in the same spot.
I tried to get the bird into the box but it had other ideas and hopped away from me, I continued to pursue it but soon it was out of the front yard and into the much vaster green space adjacent our house. I called them back just a minute before they closed for the night, explained that they didn't need to come, the bird had left. They were happy the bird was able to get away and to call them back if it did return.
A before dusk settled in I ventured again outside, and saw what I believe to be that bird, I stepped closer and it again hopped away, I carefully took another step and flew into the air landing on a nearby tree.
Damn thing didn't even thank me. But upon further inspection of that old sweatshirt, it did leave some crap behind...I guess that's enough.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Thursday, October 23, 2008
But It's My Job...
When You're an Adult, Then You Can Be Mean
Those very words were uttered to my 14 year old Piss-Boy when I not-so-politely asked him for the millionth time to empty the dishwasher. It's his job and unlike the bathroom, I'm not going to let him off the hook about it. I don't have a set schedule for running the dishwasher, except to say when it's full, or we've run out of glasses I run it. It could be in the afternoon, morning or night, who knows when it will be full--I can't predict the future. Though, I'm not entirely sure that I can't make the hot tub go on with my mind (I'll get to that later). Though I'm good at reading my kids minds I'm not psychic and I won't be called to Hollywood to appear on a psychic detective show.
I Taut I Taw a Puddy Tat
Okay Fredo didn't use those words exactly but he did say, "Mom, I see a cat sitting on a log out side." We have several downed trees in our area from various windstorms and there plain as day was my nightmare cat returned from last year. This was the cat that for some reason felt I was a soft touch and would feed it, if it meowed in a cute way. It almost had me too but my dog went into a jealous rage over the very notion. But the cat is very cute and very Sylvester looking, with his white chest, whiskers and feet. And seems rather friendly all the while maintaining his natural aloof behavior, as if he doesn't care if I feed him or not. But who is he fooling?
Actually, we've been seeing many cats around, one with a raccoon-ish looking ringed tail, another pure orange and Sylvester. I haven't seen mailbox cat in well over a year now and consider maybe MBC didn't survive the winter. Mailbox cat was by far the friendliest, and just wanted so much to belong to someone, at least when I first met him/her. MBC would run up to me when I got the mail out of the box, wrapping itself around my legs and loudly purr. I know a neighbor was providing MBC shelter during the winter months, I guess I can hope that it adapted to the home and decided not to leave it.
Cats are by nature such curious creatures, almost an enigma. One minute you're the best thing that's happened since their last feeding, but then again, you're not and cats will always remind you of this. If the house down the street gives better treats, they'd just as well live there. There is something about their temperment that if they choose you, and really choose you, they are quite forgiving. But still something under the surface reminds you that if you aren't nice enough on their terms, they will leave you. It makes you want to do more.
Am I Psychic or Just Psycho?
So, yesterday I was cleaning out my big bathtub, scrubbing it, then cleaned the shower (yes this boring but important so pay attention). The dog was running around, so I went downstairs and let him out. The air outside was crisp and cool, but the sun was shining so I lingered outside waiting on the dog to do whatever it was he wanted to do. As I stood out there, looking at the trees gently swaying in the breeze, listening to the sounds of the birds chirping, and the leaves falling, the dog returned, running into the house. I remained outside thinking about returning to the bathroom and thought to myself I should fill the tub and run those jets. I've taken several baths, but have used bubbles and I'm told bubbles and the jacuzzi jets don't mix. So I'm thinking about running those jets when I hear this noise coming from the back yard.
Several seconds ticked by before I realized the sound was coming from Mr. Ranter's $7,000 planter box. Or what normal people call the Hot Tub. I went down and shut it off, and told Mr. Ranter the story when he came home. He looked at it, well lifted the lid, turned it on, turned it off and said everything seemed fine. I told him what I was thinking when the tub spontainously turned its self on. With a sheepish look on my face I asked him if he thought I made it go on with my mind.
Once he stopped laughing, he dashed my dreams and said it was probably the main control pad, which was recently replaced.
It hasn't done it since, at least that I'm aware of, so I'm not convinced I didn't make it happen.
Stupid Scary Movies
I need a few ideas for stupid scary to rent over the next week or two. Just those movies that are vaguely entertaining. Last night my Mom's movie Night selection was The Little Girl That Lives Down the Lane. Starring Jodie Foster and Martin Sheen, it's a mid 70's thriller about a teen aged girl who keeps up a charade that her father is still alive after his untimely death. Piss-boy actually enjoyed it (I know it kinda defeats the whole Mom's Movie Night premise but I had nothing else to watch and was fairly confident I wouldn't want to watch it twice...
So, anyone have any ideas on other movies to rent?
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Just Another Day
Hodgepodge
For me at least, it's official, I'm finished all I have to do now is wait. I'll be honest, I do kind of suck at waiting; you've probably seen me because I'm the one in line at the grocery store, stuck behind the person who decides at the last moment they are paying by check, or counting pennies. I'm at the bank stuck behind the person that hasn't filled their deposit slip. It's me behind the person at dry cleaners that's lost their slip and is taking FOREVER to describe their clothes. Did you catch me 'waiving' to the person on the freeway that entered doing only 35 instead of freeway speed. Yup that was me.
However, as I said I'm finished, I've done all the research I'm going to do, so for me it's all over, until the Tuesday following the first Monday of November I am effectively finished. I took three hours filling out my ballot and I'm bittersweet about some of the hard choices I had to make. I don't always agree with mandatory sentences for people caught with a controlled substance. I believe it should always be handled in a case by case way. I don't believe that a 18 year old should have to register as a sex offender because his 16 year old girlfriend's father and mother decided they didn't like the fact their daughter had sex. I believe the law should always be applied in a common sense way not because people just want all sex offenders off the streets--so yeah I'm against knee-jerk laws of any type.
The Best Advice
A Long time ago when the first Bush was running for president, there was a young Ranter in line waiting her turn to vote for the first time. An older gentleman in line ahead of her struck up a conversation, and unwittingly handed over the best voting advice she's ever gotten. He said to her, almost never vote to raise your own taxes. It sounds so easy coming from a retired person probably taking full advantage of California's Prop 13*, but I pondered it. I queried, what about school bond issues? He did agree that would be an exception in some cases but he also felt he was paying more than his share in taxes (income tax rates were higher under Reagan than they were under Clinton). He pointed out several things on the ballot that were just wasteful spending or that he felt the private sector could fund. I have done a fairly good job of following that advice with few exceptions.
This election I've found myself asking these questions more and more, but I'm almost certain a tax hike is in our future (at some point) regardless of who is elected. I think all any of us can do is make the best choice we can.
Of Cleaning and Men
It's not a secret, the men living in this house are slobs and that I'm sure anyone could agree if you could see the condition of my house. So I spent 3 hours yesterday cleaning a bathroom my older son, Piss-Boy was supposed to be cleaning. I had fully anticipated cleaning the floor well and cabinet fronts (about an hour) but I had no idea that I also had to scrub the bathtub/shower area AND spend 30 minutes cleaning the toilet! Mind you just the inside! I also spent a while unclogging Fredo's hardened toothpaste filled drain. Today, I'll be spending most of the day cleaning the rest of the house, since the bathrooms are sparkling, the rest of the house needs to.
*For those of you from other states Proposition 13 was overwhelmingly approved by California voters in 1978, which froze their property taxes at whatever level they were currently paying for as long as they owned their home. If you purchased a new home, your property taxes would go up based on the amount you paid for the house (figure around 10%) but remain frozen (meaning they couldn't go up any higher). A majority of the those monies collected go to the school systems in the state. The exception is bond issues, if approved those will increase the property taxes, as would sewer increases, and other miscellaneous items but they never added up to much. So in California it was very possible for a retired person that owned their home for 35 years could be paying around $200 dollars a year for their property taxes while their neighbor that had just purchased their house would be paying $6000 a year, plus those special bond issues.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
For me at least, it's official, I'm finished all I have to do now is wait. I'll be honest, I do kind of suck at waiting; you've probably seen me because I'm the one in line at the grocery store, stuck behind the person who decides at the last moment they are paying by check, or counting pennies. I'm at the bank stuck behind the person that hasn't filled their deposit slip. It's me behind the person at dry cleaners that's lost their slip and is taking FOREVER to describe their clothes. Did you catch me 'waiving' to the person on the freeway that entered doing only 35 instead of freeway speed. Yup that was me.
However, as I said I'm finished, I've done all the research I'm going to do, so for me it's all over, until the Tuesday following the first Monday of November I am effectively finished. I took three hours filling out my ballot and I'm bittersweet about some of the hard choices I had to make. I don't always agree with mandatory sentences for people caught with a controlled substance. I believe it should always be handled in a case by case way. I don't believe that a 18 year old should have to register as a sex offender because his 16 year old girlfriend's father and mother decided they didn't like the fact their daughter had sex. I believe the law should always be applied in a common sense way not because people just want all sex offenders off the streets--so yeah I'm against knee-jerk laws of any type.
The Best Advice
A Long time ago when the first Bush was running for president, there was a young Ranter in line waiting her turn to vote for the first time. An older gentleman in line ahead of her struck up a conversation, and unwittingly handed over the best voting advice she's ever gotten. He said to her, almost never vote to raise your own taxes. It sounds so easy coming from a retired person probably taking full advantage of California's Prop 13*, but I pondered it. I queried, what about school bond issues? He did agree that would be an exception in some cases but he also felt he was paying more than his share in taxes (income tax rates were higher under Reagan than they were under Clinton). He pointed out several things on the ballot that were just wasteful spending or that he felt the private sector could fund. I have done a fairly good job of following that advice with few exceptions.
This election I've found myself asking these questions more and more, but I'm almost certain a tax hike is in our future (at some point) regardless of who is elected. I think all any of us can do is make the best choice we can.
Of Cleaning and Men
It's not a secret, the men living in this house are slobs and that I'm sure anyone could agree if you could see the condition of my house. So I spent 3 hours yesterday cleaning a bathroom my older son, Piss-Boy was supposed to be cleaning. I had fully anticipated cleaning the floor well and cabinet fronts (about an hour) but I had no idea that I also had to scrub the bathtub/shower area AND spend 30 minutes cleaning the toilet! Mind you just the inside! I also spent a while unclogging Fredo's hardened toothpaste filled drain. Today, I'll be spending most of the day cleaning the rest of the house, since the bathrooms are sparkling, the rest of the house needs to.
*For those of you from other states Proposition 13 was overwhelmingly approved by California voters in 1978, which froze their property taxes at whatever level they were currently paying for as long as they owned their home. If you purchased a new home, your property taxes would go up based on the amount you paid for the house (figure around 10%) but remain frozen (meaning they couldn't go up any higher). A majority of the those monies collected go to the school systems in the state. The exception is bond issues, if approved those will increase the property taxes, as would sewer increases, and other miscellaneous items but they never added up to much. So in California it was very possible for a retired person that owned their home for 35 years could be paying around $200 dollars a year for their property taxes while their neighbor that had just purchased their house would be paying $6000 a year, plus those special bond issues.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Monday, October 20, 2008
Woke Up This Morning Feeling Fine
Question Everything
On Friday, after posting to my blog in the early morning my email was flooded with this email saying the presidential election was going to be held over two days. Uh huh. Ranter sense went up (it's kinda like spidey sense but much more cynical), all republicans are supposed to vote on Tuesday the 8th, and Democrats vote on the 9th. Independent, and other miscellaneous people, under this plan are shit out of luck. Ya. I made use of the delete key and moved on to more important stuff.
Then later the same day I got another email saying effectively the opposite of what the other emails had said, I sighed thinking how many stupid people will actually fall for this? The fact that people are forwarding this to everyone they know is bad enough. The fact that it's gone so far that SNOPES is involved speaks volumes. I didn't need to go to Snopes to find this information, it found me right there in my weekly Snopes update email, which I normally derisively scan and delete.
It also needs to be said that I'm tired already of sitting on this hard, 100 year old kitchen chair, instead of the comfort of a real computer chair. That said I am making due, though I was cursing it's existence while performing the random google searches life sometimes requires of me.
Shot in the Arm
Yeah, it's flu shot season, and given my bout with pneumonia this past April, I'm not taking any chances, well okay, I did get the flu shot last year too, but three days in the hospital were enough to convince me that it's a chance not worth taking. The problem was what to tell Fredo since he's developed a phobia of shots, breaks down at the thought of them. A few weeks back at school, I guess someone mentioned shots, or getting a shot and he freaked out, wouldn't calm down. He was afraid he was getting a shot, like that day or something. One of his teachers called and I assured her no shots forthcoming. It wasn't exactly a lie, it was an omission that I didn't think would come back to bite me later during one of his progress meetings. The teacher brought it up using it as example of when to call me, she said Fredo was afraid of getting a shot, 'so I called mom who said there were NO SHOTS on the horizon'. Oh Crap! Ya, I was screwed and knew it. If I made him get the shot now I'd be a liar, but if I didn't he'd be at risk for the flu.
I held my breath and waited, debating do I tell him before or after Friday cookies? I decided to wait a little longer after cookies and milk, better to tell him on Friday night rather than have him freak out in line on Saturday. I held my breath and dove into the shallow end of pool, head first. Of course there were tears, whining, gnashing of teeth. I explained some shots you have to get because the illness is worse than the shot...but then my head raced what if he gets the flu anyway?????
Let's face it, flu shots don't always work but given my older son's problems with asthma, it's just not really something I've wanted to take a chance with. Mr. Ranter has always balked about getting his flu shot until he got the flu two years in a row, making him a believer. He still balks about it, yes there are other things I'd rather do on a Saturday morning too but...he complies.
So, I told Fredo, and while watching him freak, I did the bad mommy thing and bribed him, I asked him if after maybe he'd want to get burgers, and it didn't work. I sighed and said, well what if you go to Grandma's afterward? He stopped crying, almost immediately, sniffed a few more times and promised to be brave when he got his shot.
Score one for Mom, then I picked up the phone and told my mother in law who laughed and felt proud that her and father-in-law have that kind of effect on little Fredo. Later, the fear started creeping up in me though, what if he changes his mind and decides he doesn't care about Grandma's house?
Undaunted I took my in laws, Pissboy, husband, to the flu shot clinic, and we waited in line. His fidgeting increasing with each step closer. At last we got the "form area" and I filed out the forms for Fredo and myself not at all certain what if anything he'd say. They asked for our medical cards together as a family, something they didn't do in the past, which extended our time, finally we were through. Then we waited for "family area" to open up. A couple with their little girl was already in there and she was screaming her head off. Now this does NOTHING for Fredo's already stripped nerves. They left, and I pointed out how young the girl was making all the racket. Mr. Ranter had jumped the line opting instead for going into the adult area, where he was back before Fredo even had a chance to sit. They asked him if he wanted to sit on my lap but he said nothing except, "no no no no no" and was in the middle of mid "NOOOOO" when the lady giving the shot said, you're done. Mr Ranter jumped in and said, "dude, you're done." Fredo caught again in mid "nnnnnn" stopped short and said, "I am?" The lady then slapped a band aid on his arm, handed him a sticker and told him to step aside. Piss boy got his shot, then myself. Grandma and Grandma were just coming out of the adult section when we were finished.
I'm not sure what if anything Fredo really thought about the whole thing, but we kept up our end of the bargain and dropped him off at grandma and grandpa's house where the promise of French toast wirled through is head. He did before exiting the van, give me a thumbs up signal as I kissed his cheek reminding him of his bravery.
I'm Easy Like Sunday Morning
Most of day Sunday was spent in recovery for Mr Ranter, thoroughly hung-over and complicated with aching muscles, spent most of the day napping. I spent the day doing all kinds of very boring wifey type things, like laundry, vacuuming (just to annoy the Mister) and running the dishwasher a couple of times. I did accomplish much of the precleaning stuff; read, tossing out clutter so tomorrow I won't have as much to do. And that's enough for me.
Experimental Sunday
Well, I experimented with dinner last night and it must be said that my family HATES it when I do that because half the time it doesn't work. I made chicken breasts and thighs (boneless skinless), topped with a mango salsa like thing. I cut up the mango, which is nearly impossible to cut up because of that damn membrane inside it. Added a jalapeno, diced, red onion, garlic, some lime juice and Italian Parsley, I think cilantro would be a better choice but Mr. Ranter hates it. Anyway after cooking the chicken, I added some wine to get up those tasty bits off the bottom of the pan and added the mango stuff. Cooked it a little then added the chicken back. I roasted brussels sprouts in the oven and served the whole thing with brown rice.
Mr. Ranter sat nervously down to the table, and surveyed the food, asking if this was indeed a real recipe or if I was just experimented again. I said taste it. He did and liked it. After that I confessed that I just came up with it on my own, though it wasn't very hard so I'm sure someone else has thought of it before. He commented on the food like an Iron Chef America judge, saying he enjoyed the different textures. Piss-boy, his fellow foodie agreed that dinner was good. Upon total reflection, he said he would have liked smaller mango pieces...Okay, I can do that next time.
I smiled as they cleaned their plates, and quickly left for the Haunted House they were going to. Naturally their dishes remained on the table. Oh well somethings I just can't change. I through Fredo into the shower and we settled down for a quiet Sunday evening reading books. It was a good day. A very good day.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
On Friday, after posting to my blog in the early morning my email was flooded with this email saying the presidential election was going to be held over two days. Uh huh. Ranter sense went up (it's kinda like spidey sense but much more cynical), all republicans are supposed to vote on Tuesday the 8th, and Democrats vote on the 9th. Independent, and other miscellaneous people, under this plan are shit out of luck. Ya. I made use of the delete key and moved on to more important stuff.
Then later the same day I got another email saying effectively the opposite of what the other emails had said, I sighed thinking how many stupid people will actually fall for this? The fact that people are forwarding this to everyone they know is bad enough. The fact that it's gone so far that SNOPES is involved speaks volumes. I didn't need to go to Snopes to find this information, it found me right there in my weekly Snopes update email, which I normally derisively scan and delete.
It also needs to be said that I'm tired already of sitting on this hard, 100 year old kitchen chair, instead of the comfort of a real computer chair. That said I am making due, though I was cursing it's existence while performing the random google searches life sometimes requires of me.
Shot in the Arm
Yeah, it's flu shot season, and given my bout with pneumonia this past April, I'm not taking any chances, well okay, I did get the flu shot last year too, but three days in the hospital were enough to convince me that it's a chance not worth taking. The problem was what to tell Fredo since he's developed a phobia of shots, breaks down at the thought of them. A few weeks back at school, I guess someone mentioned shots, or getting a shot and he freaked out, wouldn't calm down. He was afraid he was getting a shot, like that day or something. One of his teachers called and I assured her no shots forthcoming. It wasn't exactly a lie, it was an omission that I didn't think would come back to bite me later during one of his progress meetings. The teacher brought it up using it as example of when to call me, she said Fredo was afraid of getting a shot, 'so I called mom who said there were NO SHOTS on the horizon'. Oh Crap! Ya, I was screwed and knew it. If I made him get the shot now I'd be a liar, but if I didn't he'd be at risk for the flu.
I held my breath and waited, debating do I tell him before or after Friday cookies? I decided to wait a little longer after cookies and milk, better to tell him on Friday night rather than have him freak out in line on Saturday. I held my breath and dove into the shallow end of pool, head first. Of course there were tears, whining, gnashing of teeth. I explained some shots you have to get because the illness is worse than the shot...but then my head raced what if he gets the flu anyway?????
Let's face it, flu shots don't always work but given my older son's problems with asthma, it's just not really something I've wanted to take a chance with. Mr. Ranter has always balked about getting his flu shot until he got the flu two years in a row, making him a believer. He still balks about it, yes there are other things I'd rather do on a Saturday morning too but...he complies.
So, I told Fredo, and while watching him freak, I did the bad mommy thing and bribed him, I asked him if after maybe he'd want to get burgers, and it didn't work. I sighed and said, well what if you go to Grandma's afterward? He stopped crying, almost immediately, sniffed a few more times and promised to be brave when he got his shot.
Score one for Mom, then I picked up the phone and told my mother in law who laughed and felt proud that her and father-in-law have that kind of effect on little Fredo. Later, the fear started creeping up in me though, what if he changes his mind and decides he doesn't care about Grandma's house?
Undaunted I took my in laws, Pissboy, husband, to the flu shot clinic, and we waited in line. His fidgeting increasing with each step closer. At last we got the "form area" and I filed out the forms for Fredo and myself not at all certain what if anything he'd say. They asked for our medical cards together as a family, something they didn't do in the past, which extended our time, finally we were through. Then we waited for "family area" to open up. A couple with their little girl was already in there and she was screaming her head off. Now this does NOTHING for Fredo's already stripped nerves. They left, and I pointed out how young the girl was making all the racket. Mr. Ranter had jumped the line opting instead for going into the adult area, where he was back before Fredo even had a chance to sit. They asked him if he wanted to sit on my lap but he said nothing except, "no no no no no" and was in the middle of mid "NOOOOO" when the lady giving the shot said, you're done. Mr Ranter jumped in and said, "dude, you're done." Fredo caught again in mid "nnnnnn" stopped short and said, "I am?" The lady then slapped a band aid on his arm, handed him a sticker and told him to step aside. Piss boy got his shot, then myself. Grandma and Grandma were just coming out of the adult section when we were finished.
I'm not sure what if anything Fredo really thought about the whole thing, but we kept up our end of the bargain and dropped him off at grandma and grandpa's house where the promise of French toast wirled through is head. He did before exiting the van, give me a thumbs up signal as I kissed his cheek reminding him of his bravery.
I'm Easy Like Sunday Morning
Most of day Sunday was spent in recovery for Mr Ranter, thoroughly hung-over and complicated with aching muscles, spent most of the day napping. I spent the day doing all kinds of very boring wifey type things, like laundry, vacuuming (just to annoy the Mister) and running the dishwasher a couple of times. I did accomplish much of the precleaning stuff; read, tossing out clutter so tomorrow I won't have as much to do. And that's enough for me.
Experimental Sunday
Well, I experimented with dinner last night and it must be said that my family HATES it when I do that because half the time it doesn't work. I made chicken breasts and thighs (boneless skinless), topped with a mango salsa like thing. I cut up the mango, which is nearly impossible to cut up because of that damn membrane inside it. Added a jalapeno, diced, red onion, garlic, some lime juice and Italian Parsley, I think cilantro would be a better choice but Mr. Ranter hates it. Anyway after cooking the chicken, I added some wine to get up those tasty bits off the bottom of the pan and added the mango stuff. Cooked it a little then added the chicken back. I roasted brussels sprouts in the oven and served the whole thing with brown rice.
Mr. Ranter sat nervously down to the table, and surveyed the food, asking if this was indeed a real recipe or if I was just experimented again. I said taste it. He did and liked it. After that I confessed that I just came up with it on my own, though it wasn't very hard so I'm sure someone else has thought of it before. He commented on the food like an Iron Chef America judge, saying he enjoyed the different textures. Piss-boy, his fellow foodie agreed that dinner was good. Upon total reflection, he said he would have liked smaller mango pieces...Okay, I can do that next time.
I smiled as they cleaned their plates, and quickly left for the Haunted House they were going to. Naturally their dishes remained on the table. Oh well somethings I just can't change. I through Fredo into the shower and we settled down for a quiet Sunday evening reading books. It was a good day. A very good day.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Friday, October 17, 2008
Finally Friday
I'm So Glad
Bonus points for anyone that can tell me which trio recorded that song. It's a fantastic Friday and I'm excited, not sure why maybe I'm just overly optimistic about the future or perhaps it's the rose-colored glasses I just got in the mail from Ronco. In just a few more weeks the country will embark on the election and come January good or bad, Dubya will be OUT.
It's no secret I'm not a fan of Dubya, but I was less of a fan of the other choices in the past couple elections. This election I do feel differently, since lets face it neither is gong to be able to do half of what they want to accomplish. I don't feel nearly as fatalistic than I thought I would feel. Maybe the prozac I stole from my mother-in-law is working.
Rose-colored glasses or no, I feel albeit guardedly optimistic our economy will recover without any further meddling from Washington. Maybe I'm insane but it's time to let the investors do what they need to do.
In Other News
My desk chair has finally said that it's had enough and snapped yesterday evening. We've had it a long time, and it a great find at my then local Goodwill Store. An 18 dollar bargain that's lasted nearly a decade. It's held my fat ass, with a child on my lap for years now and I'm kinda sad to see it go. But with the way it is now, with all four wheels firmly on the ground yet the back of the chair on the floor, it's just not going to work, nor is possible to save it.
Husband was home ill yesterday which annoys everyone to no end since we can't do what we want to do. Namely watch what we want on TV in the evenings--after all I gave up MMN the previous night for the debate. I know he's not home at night often but can't he just submit himself to an hour of Survivor without making snarky comments? So, instead we give in, handing over the remote, and exist in a hell that shows everything on the Food Network channel and the Travel Channel. Oh Boy! Me without a safe computer chair, well it just sucks.
The upshot is I get to go to back to Target, our newly remodeled one, the one that is like Disneyland with better prices for a new chair. The downside is that I have to wait until Rainbird gets paid again, since just a couple days ago I made a big deal about him not being able to make an expensive Halloween prop to house Dead Ted, or was it Dead Fred. I don't know I always forget which is which.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Bonus points for anyone that can tell me which trio recorded that song. It's a fantastic Friday and I'm excited, not sure why maybe I'm just overly optimistic about the future or perhaps it's the rose-colored glasses I just got in the mail from Ronco. In just a few more weeks the country will embark on the election and come January good or bad, Dubya will be OUT.
It's no secret I'm not a fan of Dubya, but I was less of a fan of the other choices in the past couple elections. This election I do feel differently, since lets face it neither is gong to be able to do half of what they want to accomplish. I don't feel nearly as fatalistic than I thought I would feel. Maybe the prozac I stole from my mother-in-law is working.
Rose-colored glasses or no, I feel albeit guardedly optimistic our economy will recover without any further meddling from Washington. Maybe I'm insane but it's time to let the investors do what they need to do.
In Other News
My desk chair has finally said that it's had enough and snapped yesterday evening. We've had it a long time, and it a great find at my then local Goodwill Store. An 18 dollar bargain that's lasted nearly a decade. It's held my fat ass, with a child on my lap for years now and I'm kinda sad to see it go. But with the way it is now, with all four wheels firmly on the ground yet the back of the chair on the floor, it's just not going to work, nor is possible to save it.
Husband was home ill yesterday which annoys everyone to no end since we can't do what we want to do. Namely watch what we want on TV in the evenings--after all I gave up MMN the previous night for the debate. I know he's not home at night often but can't he just submit himself to an hour of Survivor without making snarky comments? So, instead we give in, handing over the remote, and exist in a hell that shows everything on the Food Network channel and the Travel Channel. Oh Boy! Me without a safe computer chair, well it just sucks.
The upshot is I get to go to back to Target, our newly remodeled one, the one that is like Disneyland with better prices for a new chair. The downside is that I have to wait until Rainbird gets paid again, since just a couple days ago I made a big deal about him not being able to make an expensive Halloween prop to house Dead Ted, or was it Dead Fred. I don't know I always forget which is which.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Why is it Wednesday
He Gets it from his Father
It's why is it Wednesday and I have a huge one to tell that happened a little less than a week ago. Last Thursday, little Fredo was waiting in line to go out to recess, and the teacher warned the students none could leave until all in line were quiet. Well that Thursday the kids decided they wanted to be noisy and noisy they were. Fredo has a tendency driven by Autism to say whatever pops into his head at any given time, whether he has thought about it or not. This isn't always a bad thing because it can lead to a spontaneous show of affection, like when he blurts out that he loves me. But that being said it can also be used for evil.
While in line, focused solely on the experience of recess; they were just nearly outside the door, and growing ever impatient waiting for his classmates to quiet down, he blurted, well, screamed (possibly bellowed) the unthinkable, "Shut up you Fucking Idiots!!!!"
The Principal called that afternoon, and my first instinct was to laugh, because I can honestly say having been on that playground every kid has heard the F-Bomb being dropped before--and they didn't have to hear it from my kid. My mind raced back in time listening to a much younger Piss-boy going on about how "all the class has to do is be quiet in line and they'd get to play but could they....ooooh NOOOOOO." I'm confident that very sequence of words his younger sibling uttered at school last week, ran through his mind a thousand times. However, young Piss-boy's edit was firmly in place and he wouldn't have dared or maybe risked getting into that kind of trouble and besmirch his "permanent record."
The Principal gave Fredo five options, and he chose to apologize to the class on his own, which for him is a huge thing and I was actually proud of him for that. However it did shed light on the issue that his echolasia wasn't limited to Spongbob cartoons but also included all the frequently heard words we used. Not good because if swearing or cussing were an Olympic event, we'd be gold medalists.
I decided there and then to implement a swear jar, and charged a dollar an infraction. I emptied the laundry tip jar, and cashed in those coins, changed the label, and started charging.
Since then, I've put nothing into the jar but Rainbird hasn't been so lucky, he's put well over 20 bucks so far and even offered to get a note from a doctor to explain his apparent Turrets Syndrome. I explained that would be fine as long as he goes to HIS doctor and not just get a note from any doctor he works with. Fredo understands that since he places no real value on money, he must perform chores, which has only happened twice. Myself, I find myself surprised that I haven't contributed, and believe there are enough people here to remind me if I slipped. My self edit, has always been fairly decent when at places with children and normally restricted to my home, and the pages of this blog. I can only hope that Rainbird does learn to edit himself and this issue for Fredo will go away.
I can only hope but still it begs to ask, why is it that our children pick up on the very habits we often don't want them to. Sometimes these habits are small things but sometimes it's much bigger, like our bad words, our cynical attitudes toward our fellow man or even our good habits blown wildly out of proportion. What is it about "do what I say and not as I do." that makes it so hard to follow?
Since I'm on a Blogging Roll of Sorts
I've been posting fairly regularly lately, which is weird for me but I'm willing to continue as long as I have things to blog about. It's kind of like therapy or something, but anyway I was debating if I should even bother with this post and then I read this post by Abby and realized I needed to write about this. If no other reason to remind myself I'm not alone in this.
Now I just need to tear a page from Judy's blog, and start getting serious about losing weight.
Welcome Back
In honor of Bumble's return...
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
It's why is it Wednesday and I have a huge one to tell that happened a little less than a week ago. Last Thursday, little Fredo was waiting in line to go out to recess, and the teacher warned the students none could leave until all in line were quiet. Well that Thursday the kids decided they wanted to be noisy and noisy they were. Fredo has a tendency driven by Autism to say whatever pops into his head at any given time, whether he has thought about it or not. This isn't always a bad thing because it can lead to a spontaneous show of affection, like when he blurts out that he loves me. But that being said it can also be used for evil.
While in line, focused solely on the experience of recess; they were just nearly outside the door, and growing ever impatient waiting for his classmates to quiet down, he blurted, well, screamed (possibly bellowed) the unthinkable, "Shut up you Fucking Idiots!!!!"
The Principal called that afternoon, and my first instinct was to laugh, because I can honestly say having been on that playground every kid has heard the F-Bomb being dropped before--and they didn't have to hear it from my kid. My mind raced back in time listening to a much younger Piss-boy going on about how "all the class has to do is be quiet in line and they'd get to play but could they....ooooh NOOOOOO." I'm confident that very sequence of words his younger sibling uttered at school last week, ran through his mind a thousand times. However, young Piss-boy's edit was firmly in place and he wouldn't have dared or maybe risked getting into that kind of trouble and besmirch his "permanent record."
The Principal gave Fredo five options, and he chose to apologize to the class on his own, which for him is a huge thing and I was actually proud of him for that. However it did shed light on the issue that his echolasia wasn't limited to Spongbob cartoons but also included all the frequently heard words we used. Not good because if swearing or cussing were an Olympic event, we'd be gold medalists.
I decided there and then to implement a swear jar, and charged a dollar an infraction. I emptied the laundry tip jar, and cashed in those coins, changed the label, and started charging.
Since then, I've put nothing into the jar but Rainbird hasn't been so lucky, he's put well over 20 bucks so far and even offered to get a note from a doctor to explain his apparent Turrets Syndrome. I explained that would be fine as long as he goes to HIS doctor and not just get a note from any doctor he works with. Fredo understands that since he places no real value on money, he must perform chores, which has only happened twice. Myself, I find myself surprised that I haven't contributed, and believe there are enough people here to remind me if I slipped. My self edit, has always been fairly decent when at places with children and normally restricted to my home, and the pages of this blog. I can only hope that Rainbird does learn to edit himself and this issue for Fredo will go away.
I can only hope but still it begs to ask, why is it that our children pick up on the very habits we often don't want them to. Sometimes these habits are small things but sometimes it's much bigger, like our bad words, our cynical attitudes toward our fellow man or even our good habits blown wildly out of proportion. What is it about "do what I say and not as I do." that makes it so hard to follow?
Since I'm on a Blogging Roll of Sorts
I've been posting fairly regularly lately, which is weird for me but I'm willing to continue as long as I have things to blog about. It's kind of like therapy or something, but anyway I was debating if I should even bother with this post and then I read this post by Abby and realized I needed to write about this. If no other reason to remind myself I'm not alone in this.
Now I just need to tear a page from Judy's blog, and start getting serious about losing weight.
Welcome Back
In honor of Bumble's return...
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Of Chickens and Eggs
Are Diamonds Really a Girl's Best Friend?
Or is a girls best friend the person that gives the diamonds? Diamonds are nice, especially when they arrive with a promise....awwwwwwww. My friend Bumble popped the question to his matchdotcom girl, and she said yes. Here's a snap of the ring he emailed me with.
Oh Bumble you done good.
Normally I'm ever the cynic when it comes to engagements but not this time. I'm thrilled for them both and hope they have a wonderful, long healthy life together. And Bumble...Welcome back to the wonderful world of blogging!
You can Take the Girl Out of California
I've said it before but it bears repeating, I'm a city girl living in the sticks. And I'm not going to suggest that California didn't have it's share of rural areas, because it did. I just didn't live there. I lived and grew up close to San Francisco. I'm probably one of the few people that could relate to the movie Colma the Musical on a personal level. I did however have the benefit of growing up in an Italian neighborhood, and they raised chickens, rabbits and other small creatures the law at the time allowed. All which were painstakingly, but lovingly prepared in the stove located in garage, because no self respecting Italian woman would risk dirtying the oven in the kitchen. People might see that! The kitchen was for show, like the living room, except it wasn't hermetrically sealed in plastic.
Now I was a kid then, and paid little attention because my parents bought their chicken, eggs and other items from the grocery store. As I got older the laws changed and the chickens, rabbits and other small creatures disappeared from the neighborhood. However I digress.
Yesterday, I went to our local market to pick up a few things. The usual, milk, eggs, rice....things on sale. I came home to find our local "egg lady" standing in my driveway. She proclaimed the hens were laying and she had too many. "Damn" I muttered under my breath, and quickly explained that I already bought eggs. Undetterred she started pulling my bags out of the back of the van and carried them to the front door as though running a sprint. Silently I cursed myself since now I'd have to invite her in, as I made my way to the door.
Naturally she followed me into the house, sitting the bags ontop of the kitchen table, then she started pulling things out, putting them away. My head then was ready to explode because I HATE that with a passion. I know, she was just being helpful, but it just grated on my nerves. Then she took out a dish from the cabinet (after opening and closing several) and started putting the eggs I just bought inside it and left it on the counter.
All the while she never stopped chatting about how they were getting a new goat, and about the chickens, most of which I tuned out. I reached for the eggs and put them into the fridge (they wouldn't fit on any shelves but I figured I'd deal with that later when I heard her ask in an incredulous tone, "whatever are you doing that for?" "Ummm," I stammered, "I always put eggs in the refrigerator."
"Why?" she asked in the same tone, "they don't come out of the chicken's butt cold." I changed the subject and having put all the groceries away, she asked about the eggs but I politely refused. She left, saying she'd try the people down the street. After she departed and I breathed a sigh of relief I briefly pondered the subject of eggs and chickens. Not about which came first but about other perplexing notions. Like do eggs really come out of a chickens butt? Or do they pop out somewhere else, I know nothing about chicken anatomy for all I know they could come out their mouths, but if Foghorn Leghorn cartoons are right, they sit on the eggs. I would assume they come out that way.
But like women, isn't there another hole? Thanks to Google, I now know in fact there is only one exit area on a chicken. I'll probably never think of chickens the same way again.
The second question that came to mind, which is much more important, must they be refrigerated? That's a little more difficult to answer half the websites say yes, the other half say no, there's lots of anecdotal evidence saying they don't but I'm not so sure that applies to eggs you buy at the store.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Or is a girls best friend the person that gives the diamonds? Diamonds are nice, especially when they arrive with a promise....awwwwwwww. My friend Bumble popped the question to his matchdotcom girl, and she said yes. Here's a snap of the ring he emailed me with. Oh Bumble you done good.
Normally I'm ever the cynic when it comes to engagements but not this time. I'm thrilled for them both and hope they have a wonderful, long healthy life together. And Bumble...Welcome back to the wonderful world of blogging!
You can Take the Girl Out of California
I've said it before but it bears repeating, I'm a city girl living in the sticks. And I'm not going to suggest that California didn't have it's share of rural areas, because it did. I just didn't live there. I lived and grew up close to San Francisco. I'm probably one of the few people that could relate to the movie Colma the Musical on a personal level. I did however have the benefit of growing up in an Italian neighborhood, and they raised chickens, rabbits and other small creatures the law at the time allowed. All which were painstakingly, but lovingly prepared in the stove located in garage, because no self respecting Italian woman would risk dirtying the oven in the kitchen. People might see that! The kitchen was for show, like the living room, except it wasn't hermetrically sealed in plastic.
Now I was a kid then, and paid little attention because my parents bought their chicken, eggs and other items from the grocery store. As I got older the laws changed and the chickens, rabbits and other small creatures disappeared from the neighborhood. However I digress.
Yesterday, I went to our local market to pick up a few things. The usual, milk, eggs, rice....things on sale. I came home to find our local "egg lady" standing in my driveway. She proclaimed the hens were laying and she had too many. "Damn" I muttered under my breath, and quickly explained that I already bought eggs. Undetterred she started pulling my bags out of the back of the van and carried them to the front door as though running a sprint. Silently I cursed myself since now I'd have to invite her in, as I made my way to the door.
Naturally she followed me into the house, sitting the bags ontop of the kitchen table, then she started pulling things out, putting them away. My head then was ready to explode because I HATE that with a passion. I know, she was just being helpful, but it just grated on my nerves. Then she took out a dish from the cabinet (after opening and closing several) and started putting the eggs I just bought inside it and left it on the counter.
All the while she never stopped chatting about how they were getting a new goat, and about the chickens, most of which I tuned out. I reached for the eggs and put them into the fridge (they wouldn't fit on any shelves but I figured I'd deal with that later when I heard her ask in an incredulous tone, "whatever are you doing that for?" "Ummm," I stammered, "I always put eggs in the refrigerator."
For craps sake woman, my mother put her eggs in the refrigerator, as did her mother before her, before that the freaking fridge hadn't been invented yet!
"Why?" she asked in the same tone, "they don't come out of the chicken's butt cold." I changed the subject and having put all the groceries away, she asked about the eggs but I politely refused. She left, saying she'd try the people down the street. After she departed and I breathed a sigh of relief I briefly pondered the subject of eggs and chickens. Not about which came first but about other perplexing notions. Like do eggs really come out of a chickens butt? Or do they pop out somewhere else, I know nothing about chicken anatomy for all I know they could come out their mouths, but if Foghorn Leghorn cartoons are right, they sit on the eggs. I would assume they come out that way.
But like women, isn't there another hole? Thanks to Google, I now know in fact there is only one exit area on a chicken. I'll probably never think of chickens the same way again.The second question that came to mind, which is much more important, must they be refrigerated? That's a little more difficult to answer half the websites say yes, the other half say no, there's lots of anecdotal evidence saying they don't but I'm not so sure that applies to eggs you buy at the store.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Monday, October 13, 2008
The Happiest Place On Earth
Dateline: Somewhere in the Pacific Northwest
The boy formally known as Piss-boy needed shoes for school. I promised him a few weeks ago that we would go and get shoes but it wasn't high on his priority list so he didn't mention it again. On Friday, I knew the man formally known as Rainbird, said to me that he had Friday off and was taking his parents to a Indian Gaming place they love to visit. I glanced at my calendar and ascertained that the children were also off from school.
I made the decision while he was out with his folks, we'd do a little something to help the economy.
When the Going Gets Tough; The Tough Goes to Tarjay
We walked through the doors of our Newly remodeled Tarjay a feeling of warmth surrounded me, truly Target, is Disneyland for moms, except with better prices and shorter lines. We made our way to the shoe area in the back of the store, and started looking for tennis type shoes for Piss-boy. I turned around and saw a whole row of snow boots, for kids going to adults...and every possible size in between. I immediately set out finding snow boots for the child formally known as Fredo and it only took me a few minutes to find a pair that fit him.
Then I thought to myself, I need snow boots too, so I started looking over the women's selections and there they were.
Everything Old is New Again
On the shelf, beside the faux fur lined snow shoes was a gray snow boot with a pink lining that caught my eye. My mind drifted back to a time when my hair was bigger and my rear was smaller. It reminded me of high school and my best friend's 16th birthday when we both decided to wear pink mini skirts with pink and gray tops. Naturally pink with gray mocs completed the ensemble We looked so cute. I recall her cousin was upset because my friend didn't tell her about our clothing choices and felt left out.
Not at all deterred the whimsical thoughts of the past, I tried them on, they felt warm and toasty but a little bit big, but I decided that I could just steal a pair of Rainbird's extra thick socks to add further cushion. I snapped them up.
Yes the years have changed me, my hair isn't big anymore and my rear has grown considerably, but some things just never change.
Easy Like Sunday Morning
I really do enjoy the Autumn season, there is something about cool temps and crisp air, the colors and stores setting up their Christmas displays? Well, yeah, I went to our local home improvement center (read: Mega-chain) to look for a duster with a telescoping pole for my mother in law. There by the door where the fall and Halloween stuffs were formally located, was about 3 aisles of Christmas stuff. Those HUGE inflatable things that you put in front of your house, the super-sized sleighs with a waving Santa.
I did walk up and down the aisles looking at the various wares, when I saw a HUGE Frosty the Snowman...I'm a sucker for Frosty. It must be a "real" Frosty, not just any old snowman with a silk hat, scarf and button eyes. What's funny is that you know a real Frosty when you see him, because, well duh, he looks like Frosty.
Countdown to the Holidays
Some people do Spring cleaning, but I prefer Autumn cleaning. Over the next several weeks I'll start decluttering the house of all the junk we've accumulated since Spring. The goal is to make cleaning easier when the holiday's are in full force and I have no time for it. I will admit some rooms will be easier than others, but I'm sure it will be worth the effort. As long as everyone doens't start cluttering them back up again.
I've also started our Christmas shopping, though this year will be lighter, each kiddo getting a few things they really want rather than a hundred things they don't.
Congratulations
To my Bumble Buddy who just this past weekend got engaged to his matchdotcom girl!! Congrats to you both.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
The boy formally known as Piss-boy needed shoes for school. I promised him a few weeks ago that we would go and get shoes but it wasn't high on his priority list so he didn't mention it again. On Friday, I knew the man formally known as Rainbird, said to me that he had Friday off and was taking his parents to a Indian Gaming place they love to visit. I glanced at my calendar and ascertained that the children were also off from school.
I made the decision while he was out with his folks, we'd do a little something to help the economy.
When the Going Gets Tough; The Tough Goes to Tarjay
We walked through the doors of our Newly remodeled Tarjay a feeling of warmth surrounded me, truly Target, is Disneyland for moms, except with better prices and shorter lines. We made our way to the shoe area in the back of the store, and started looking for tennis type shoes for Piss-boy. I turned around and saw a whole row of snow boots, for kids going to adults...and every possible size in between. I immediately set out finding snow boots for the child formally known as Fredo and it only took me a few minutes to find a pair that fit him.
Then I thought to myself, I need snow boots too, so I started looking over the women's selections and there they were.
Everything Old is New Again
On the shelf, beside the faux fur lined snow shoes was a gray snow boot with a pink lining that caught my eye. My mind drifted back to a time when my hair was bigger and my rear was smaller. It reminded me of high school and my best friend's 16th birthday when we both decided to wear pink mini skirts with pink and gray tops. Naturally pink with gray mocs completed the ensemble We looked so cute. I recall her cousin was upset because my friend didn't tell her about our clothing choices and felt left out.
Not at all deterred the whimsical thoughts of the past, I tried them on, they felt warm and toasty but a little bit big, but I decided that I could just steal a pair of Rainbird's extra thick socks to add further cushion. I snapped them up.
Yes the years have changed me, my hair isn't big anymore and my rear has grown considerably, but some things just never change.
Easy Like Sunday Morning
I really do enjoy the Autumn season, there is something about cool temps and crisp air, the colors and stores setting up their Christmas displays? Well, yeah, I went to our local home improvement center (read: Mega-chain) to look for a duster with a telescoping pole for my mother in law. There by the door where the fall and Halloween stuffs were formally located, was about 3 aisles of Christmas stuff. Those HUGE inflatable things that you put in front of your house, the super-sized sleighs with a waving Santa.
I did walk up and down the aisles looking at the various wares, when I saw a HUGE Frosty the Snowman...I'm a sucker for Frosty. It must be a "real" Frosty, not just any old snowman with a silk hat, scarf and button eyes. What's funny is that you know a real Frosty when you see him, because, well duh, he looks like Frosty.
Countdown to the Holidays
Some people do Spring cleaning, but I prefer Autumn cleaning. Over the next several weeks I'll start decluttering the house of all the junk we've accumulated since Spring. The goal is to make cleaning easier when the holiday's are in full force and I have no time for it. I will admit some rooms will be easier than others, but I'm sure it will be worth the effort. As long as everyone doens't start cluttering them back up again.
I've also started our Christmas shopping, though this year will be lighter, each kiddo getting a few things they really want rather than a hundred things they don't.
Congratulations
To my Bumble Buddy who just this past weekend got engaged to his matchdotcom girl!! Congrats to you both.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Why is it Wednesday
Hey Yaaaa ABBY!
Congrats to my blog buddy AbbyNormal and her beautiful hot and gassy new addition (waaaaay hotter than me)! Who knew something that blows hot air could be that wonderful? Even more so since it's not a politician.
Are Firefighters Always Good Looking?
Why is it that I'm walking through the grocery store, pushing my cart, paying attention to my list, when I look up and see the most gorgeous man standing in front of me. He was tall, at least 6 foot, dark hair with the most dazzling dancing sky blue eyes, I have ever seen. Muscular, dressed in blue, I was awestruck. So struck, I couldn't help myself but to stare at him, until I pushed my cart into a display sending everything flying.
My mind screamed, what do I do....what do I do! Do I run away and leave the mess, or clumsily pick up the stuff I knocked over. Thankfully a store employee came to my rescue and started picking up the stuff for me, saving me the further embarrassment, and allowing me a quick exit. I avoided further collisions, well until I was in the check out line, and spied him in the next aisle over, bending over. Oh My God. Okay, I said that out loud twice, the first after seeing him, the second, when I bumped my cart into the woman in front of me. She gave a look that could have killed, but then her eyes followed my gaze just as he was righting himself. Her eyebrow raised and she started fanning herself with her check book.
He looked at us and smiled; he's probably used to it, and for that moment I doubt either of us felt frumpy. It must be a rule that all firefighters must be good looking, because it doesn't matter where I go, where I live, or where I visit, it seems they always are.
When I got home, I looked around pondering if I could somehow set my house on fire, just to see him again. I decided that probably wasn't a good idea.
Are School Meetings Always Stressful?
In a word probably, even if it's only been three weeks since the last one, I find myself preoccupied with what has gone wrong, or if another shoe will drop. I have to keep reminding myself that it's still early in the year.
Debating the Debates
Why can't we just watch the debates then move on? Or rather why must we have endless debate about who won, who lost, and why. Both sides baring their ideas, showing soundbites that bolster their argument and for what purpose? There is nothing else for them to say. Sure they could continue to give talking points about why you don't need to pull your money out of the bank, or why it's going to take so long for the economy to recover. They could talk about the Iraq war, or ponder where Bin Laden is. But they don't want to cover any real news, they just want to know which candidate might have answered the question about "what they don't know" the best.
Finally Why Is It...
I feel a migraine coming two days before it actually hits? It's really annoying but thankfully they don't come that often. My head is still aching and probably will until tomorrow.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Monday, October 06, 2008
Kids Today
Out of the Mouths of Teens
My son today asked me a strange question that gave me pause. What if there is a tie in this election what happens then. I gave him the answer but also commented that I wasn't sure that could happen because not every state has the same number of votes. It would be difficult to achieve a perfect tie. That said there are 538 total votes, so technically 269 could be awarded to each candidate and 270 are needed to win. It's actually not that impossible.
Now this did kinda scare me, because according to our constitution, the President would be decided by the House, but only one person per state could vote. Can you imagine the arguing about that? So, first they need to decide who gets to make the vote, then they'd get to argue about how he or she would vote. Vice President is decided by the senate. Equally weird since we could effectively end up with a Democrat President and Republican Vice President. Or vice-versa, I guess. Of course back in the day this all was written the president was the person with the most votes and vice president was decided by the person who came in second.
Now for the really weird part all this must be done by the inauguration day in January. If they haven't decided by then, the currant VP becomes President until all this is straightened out. And I was hoping that they'd get to wrestle for it.
Weekend or Weekbeginning?
It happens every week, Friday comes around and before you know it, the weekend is over, and that's with having nothing special to do because it didn't stop raining. Well, we did have come 'periods' without rain but they were only long enough to run out maybe go to the store to replenish supplies of Maui Luau Barbecue Potato Chips. It's an addiction. Husband spent Saturday drinking beer and making beer with a few friends, while the kids and I went out to lunch. By the time lunch was over it was raining so hard we decided to forgo our walk and head home. I wish I could be like Abby and ride a bike (with a tricked out bell) everywhere but with this weather...ugh. It certainly would make me feel better about that bacon cheeseburger I ate for lunch.
And She Was
It seems in high school there are always the girls make other girls feel uncomfortable and my high school was no exception. Patty was a nice girl with a pleasant smile but an attitude that could cut you down without realizing it until later. She was thin, with legs that started at her armpits and the longest blonde hair I'd ever seen.
I remember the first time I'd seen her after high school, I ran into her at a local eatery about two years or so after graduation. I was dressed exceptionally wearing designer clothes that would have made the Sex in the City character Carrie Bradshaw proud. The next few times I bumped into her were more of the same, then I hadn't seen her or thought about her much, until around a year ago in our local Rite Aid.
I had no makeup on, wearing sweatpants-hadn't had my hair colored in months, fat, with my arms filled with stuff when I saw her coming toward me. She exclaimed, "Oh, Ranter, my you look..." followed by a pause that lasted a little too long, "...well, I almost didn't recognize you." Ouch, I thought, as I looked her over, thinking she still looks the same. I noted her shoes were Prada, while mine were keds.
She explained that she was living in this state now with her husband and 2.3 children.
Since that time over the course of the past couple years I've ran into her one other time, with the same result, until this time. Now, today I was at my bank and I was having a good hair day, wearing jeans, makeup, and a nice unstained shirt; on my feet high heels, not expensive but good enough. There she was in line just ahead of me. I saw her turn her head around, then she snapped it quickly forward and I thought she was ignoring me, when she turned around a moment later to face me. I smiled and said, "hi Patty." She smiled faintly and returned the hello, when I saw it..a roll of fat around her belly area. It was then I noticed how wrinkled her eyes were, and the cottage cheese around her thighs--her legs not looking nearly as long. I said nothing else and stopped paying attention to her when they opened another window, and she went to do her business. Before I could further examine her appearance it was my turn.
I left the bank before her, I could hear her saying something about looking for her account number, and I felt somewhat vindicated. It was the first time in years I felt a rush a self worth, instead of the traditional self loathing.
It felt good.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
My son today asked me a strange question that gave me pause. What if there is a tie in this election what happens then. I gave him the answer but also commented that I wasn't sure that could happen because not every state has the same number of votes. It would be difficult to achieve a perfect tie. That said there are 538 total votes, so technically 269 could be awarded to each candidate and 270 are needed to win. It's actually not that impossible.
Now this did kinda scare me, because according to our constitution, the President would be decided by the House, but only one person per state could vote. Can you imagine the arguing about that? So, first they need to decide who gets to make the vote, then they'd get to argue about how he or she would vote. Vice President is decided by the senate. Equally weird since we could effectively end up with a Democrat President and Republican Vice President. Or vice-versa, I guess. Of course back in the day this all was written the president was the person with the most votes and vice president was decided by the person who came in second.
Now for the really weird part all this must be done by the inauguration day in January. If they haven't decided by then, the currant VP becomes President until all this is straightened out. And I was hoping that they'd get to wrestle for it.
Weekend or Weekbeginning?
It happens every week, Friday comes around and before you know it, the weekend is over, and that's with having nothing special to do because it didn't stop raining. Well, we did have come 'periods' without rain but they were only long enough to run out maybe go to the store to replenish supplies of Maui Luau Barbecue Potato Chips. It's an addiction. Husband spent Saturday drinking beer and making beer with a few friends, while the kids and I went out to lunch. By the time lunch was over it was raining so hard we decided to forgo our walk and head home. I wish I could be like Abby and ride a bike (with a tricked out bell) everywhere but with this weather...ugh. It certainly would make me feel better about that bacon cheeseburger I ate for lunch.
And She Was
It seems in high school there are always the girls make other girls feel uncomfortable and my high school was no exception. Patty was a nice girl with a pleasant smile but an attitude that could cut you down without realizing it until later. She was thin, with legs that started at her armpits and the longest blonde hair I'd ever seen.
I remember the first time I'd seen her after high school, I ran into her at a local eatery about two years or so after graduation. I was dressed exceptionally wearing designer clothes that would have made the Sex in the City character Carrie Bradshaw proud. The next few times I bumped into her were more of the same, then I hadn't seen her or thought about her much, until around a year ago in our local Rite Aid.
I had no makeup on, wearing sweatpants-hadn't had my hair colored in months, fat, with my arms filled with stuff when I saw her coming toward me. She exclaimed, "Oh, Ranter, my you look..." followed by a pause that lasted a little too long, "...well, I almost didn't recognize you." Ouch, I thought, as I looked her over, thinking she still looks the same. I noted her shoes were Prada, while mine were keds.
She explained that she was living in this state now with her husband and 2.3 children.
Since that time over the course of the past couple years I've ran into her one other time, with the same result, until this time. Now, today I was at my bank and I was having a good hair day, wearing jeans, makeup, and a nice unstained shirt; on my feet high heels, not expensive but good enough. There she was in line just ahead of me. I saw her turn her head around, then she snapped it quickly forward and I thought she was ignoring me, when she turned around a moment later to face me. I smiled and said, "hi Patty." She smiled faintly and returned the hello, when I saw it..a roll of fat around her belly area. It was then I noticed how wrinkled her eyes were, and the cottage cheese around her thighs--her legs not looking nearly as long. I said nothing else and stopped paying attention to her when they opened another window, and she went to do her business. Before I could further examine her appearance it was my turn.
I left the bank before her, I could hear her saying something about looking for her account number, and I felt somewhat vindicated. It was the first time in years I felt a rush a self worth, instead of the traditional self loathing.
It felt good.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Friday, October 03, 2008
How Odd
I know I said
I wasn't going to watch the VP debates but I did see some of it. I do think Palin did okay but were there teleprompters used? She seemed to be looking down a lot, like she was reading a script. Biden did too but it wasn't nearly as obvious.
My only other complaint about Palin, and this was just based on 40 minutes or so I watched, was that she didn't seem to answer some questions. The moderator would ask her a question, then she would start talking about something else like gas prices.
I didn't see or note that Biden did this, though it's possible since I didn't watch the whole thing. I would have liked to have seen Joe Biden chip away at Palin's constant use of the word "Maverack" because while I know McCain isn't the most loved guy in the senate, he does vote with Bush most of the time. So he doesn't like earmarks, but it doesn't stop him for votiing for someone elses earmarks.
This Must Be a Record
At least for me since I rarely post everyday and I'm not sure what's gotten into me, but I'll go with it. Yesterday while I waited for husband to his lazy butt out of bed (okay, truth time, he's not that lazy, he gets home from work at midnight and goes to bed around 2 AM) so I could begin dusting and vacuuming, I decided to troll some other blogs. These blogs were just random, hitting the next blog button, and reading.
It's kind of a crap shoot doing that, since so many blogs are just spam, but some other blogs were just sad. One blog, the writer was upset with her father for having an affair and divorcing her mother. A different blog had about the same written but in reverse which made me ponder if the two were somehow cosmically related. I'm sure stranger things have happened.
Ahhh Choooo!
Another odd thing about today is that my younger son is home from school because he wasn't feeling well this morning. He said his throat was hurting and his head hurt, just like older son a few days earlier. Oh well it's not a bad weekend for being sick, its supposed to rain most of the weekend, we have nothing planned except my husband brewing beer with friend of his.
I have a few things to do around the house, since an outsider (homebrewing friend of hubby's) will be visiting and I don't want him to think that we're all just slobs. Even though, clearly we are. Maybe this will be a good weekend to do some work in my older son's bedroom, and get those shelves put together. Who knows what we'll do as I said a few days ago, excitement just can't be planned. Maybe I'll walk on the wild side and take out the carpet shampooer.
For Your Viewing Pleasure
I rememeber a friend of the family, who served his country in Viet Nam, hearing this song for the first time and he cried. I came across it today and thought I'd share it; the owner of this piece doesn't allow for embedded URL's so you can find it here.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
I wasn't going to watch the VP debates but I did see some of it. I do think Palin did okay but were there teleprompters used? She seemed to be looking down a lot, like she was reading a script. Biden did too but it wasn't nearly as obvious.
My only other complaint about Palin, and this was just based on 40 minutes or so I watched, was that she didn't seem to answer some questions. The moderator would ask her a question, then she would start talking about something else like gas prices.
I didn't see or note that Biden did this, though it's possible since I didn't watch the whole thing. I would have liked to have seen Joe Biden chip away at Palin's constant use of the word "Maverack" because while I know McCain isn't the most loved guy in the senate, he does vote with Bush most of the time. So he doesn't like earmarks, but it doesn't stop him for votiing for someone elses earmarks.
This Must Be a Record
At least for me since I rarely post everyday and I'm not sure what's gotten into me, but I'll go with it. Yesterday while I waited for husband to his lazy butt out of bed (okay, truth time, he's not that lazy, he gets home from work at midnight and goes to bed around 2 AM) so I could begin dusting and vacuuming, I decided to troll some other blogs. These blogs were just random, hitting the next blog button, and reading.
It's kind of a crap shoot doing that, since so many blogs are just spam, but some other blogs were just sad. One blog, the writer was upset with her father for having an affair and divorcing her mother. A different blog had about the same written but in reverse which made me ponder if the two were somehow cosmically related. I'm sure stranger things have happened.
Ahhh Choooo!
Another odd thing about today is that my younger son is home from school because he wasn't feeling well this morning. He said his throat was hurting and his head hurt, just like older son a few days earlier. Oh well it's not a bad weekend for being sick, its supposed to rain most of the weekend, we have nothing planned except my husband brewing beer with friend of his.
I have a few things to do around the house, since an outsider (homebrewing friend of hubby's) will be visiting and I don't want him to think that we're all just slobs. Even though, clearly we are. Maybe this will be a good weekend to do some work in my older son's bedroom, and get those shelves put together. Who knows what we'll do as I said a few days ago, excitement just can't be planned. Maybe I'll walk on the wild side and take out the carpet shampooer.
For Your Viewing Pleasure
I rememeber a friend of the family, who served his country in Viet Nam, hearing this song for the first time and he cried. I came across it today and thought I'd share it; the owner of this piece doesn't allow for embedded URL's so you can find it here.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Just a Few Words
You Can Lead a Man to the Toilet, But You Can't Make Him Sit
I didn't mention this yesterday but it's been a growing issue with me and I find it disturbing. The pee that lands behind the freaking toilet! How do they (men) do this? People will claim the Kennedy assassination couldn't be true because of the magic bullet, well what about the magic urine? The urine that travels around the toilet to stain the back of the wall.
Seriously
Why can't they just sit down to pee? What is this need which men have, that they must stand to pee, is it to show dominance over the toilet? If they are sitting...and doing their number two thing, do they immediately stand up and turn around? No, I've never asked but I'm curious to know the answer.
Enough Potty Talk
Yesterday, I asked myself the question if excitement can be planned and I'm fairly confident that it can't. You can plan fun, but excitement just happens. Today, I again did the boring stuff, but I didn't feel it was dull, it was just all the stuff that needs to be done. Bills paid, errands run, clothes washed, rugs vacuumed. These things don't get done by themselves--someone has to do them. Wish it could be someone else but...
October
October...wow...October. Of course today it's raining, and tomorrow, and for the next several days, then a break and back to rain, at least according to every weather person on TV. Still it seems hard to believe it's already October! Where has the year gone. Soon enough husband will be taking the older kid to visit our abundant local haunted houses, then November will be here and the holidays will start. This past year I got incredibly lazy....just how lazy was I? Well, I got so lazy that after Christmas when I removed all my Holiday dishes out of the china cabinet, I never put the good china back into it. It's just sat empty since January. Very unusual for me.
Anyway, now it's October and the leaves are making their decent from the trees, landing on my lawn, inside my gutters, and everywhere else I don't want them to fall. Our apple pear tree, which had only 3 apples on it this season, has gone through a major growth spurt. I guess without any apples to slow it down, it put all its energy into growing leaves and limbs. Should be fun when it comes time for pruning. The other tree in our yard we discovered this year is an apple tree, and while it gave us many surprise apples this year, we didn't get eat any of them. I suppose the opossums and squirrels enjoyed them though at least I believe so...Since nearly all of them had these mystery bites taken out of them. Big chomping bites. Weird.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
I didn't mention this yesterday but it's been a growing issue with me and I find it disturbing. The pee that lands behind the freaking toilet! How do they (men) do this? People will claim the Kennedy assassination couldn't be true because of the magic bullet, well what about the magic urine? The urine that travels around the toilet to stain the back of the wall.
Seriously
Why can't they just sit down to pee? What is this need which men have, that they must stand to pee, is it to show dominance over the toilet? If they are sitting...and doing their number two thing, do they immediately stand up and turn around? No, I've never asked but I'm curious to know the answer.
Enough Potty Talk
Yesterday, I asked myself the question if excitement can be planned and I'm fairly confident that it can't. You can plan fun, but excitement just happens. Today, I again did the boring stuff, but I didn't feel it was dull, it was just all the stuff that needs to be done. Bills paid, errands run, clothes washed, rugs vacuumed. These things don't get done by themselves--someone has to do them. Wish it could be someone else but...
October
October...wow...October. Of course today it's raining, and tomorrow, and for the next several days, then a break and back to rain, at least according to every weather person on TV. Still it seems hard to believe it's already October! Where has the year gone. Soon enough husband will be taking the older kid to visit our abundant local haunted houses, then November will be here and the holidays will start. This past year I got incredibly lazy....just how lazy was I? Well, I got so lazy that after Christmas when I removed all my Holiday dishes out of the china cabinet, I never put the good china back into it. It's just sat empty since January. Very unusual for me.
Anyway, now it's October and the leaves are making their decent from the trees, landing on my lawn, inside my gutters, and everywhere else I don't want them to fall. Our apple pear tree, which had only 3 apples on it this season, has gone through a major growth spurt. I guess without any apples to slow it down, it put all its energy into growing leaves and limbs. Should be fun when it comes time for pruning. The other tree in our yard we discovered this year is an apple tree, and while it gave us many surprise apples this year, we didn't get eat any of them. I suppose the opossums and squirrels enjoyed them though at least I believe so...Since nearly all of them had these mystery bites taken out of them. Big chomping bites. Weird.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Today, I am Dull
Tell Me Something We Don't Know
We all know the economy is in the toilet and while we wait to see if Congress has the courage or not to flush it, I decided to change gears. I'm not going to watch the VP debate on Friday, because I don't care about them. I know it sounds weird coming from me, and while I do care who is elected president, I just can't bring myself to care who the VP is. I know today they do more than just waiting for the president to die or be killed but I still just don't care.
Why Am I So Dull
I guess it's because I'm not doing anything exciting, well, unless you count blogging to be exciting. I got up early, as usual, got little son off to school or rather on the bus that takes him to school. Grabbed the car keys and before anyone else was up ran to the store to pick up a few things. Very few since I"m trying to watch my pennies, just bought things that were needed to keep the house running until my husband gets paid again. Nothing exciting happened there unless you count the register guy I know begging me to jump ahead in line so he could buy cookies for his break. They time the breaks you know--at least that was his excuse.
My older son got up, and informed me that he was feeling better (he had a sore throat yesterday) downed a muffin and cup a tea then bolted outside to pick up dog poop in the backyard. See? Even he is dull. Meanwhile husband shows himself downstairs, complaining about things that for once have nothing to do with me, so I let him prattle while I sipped coffee. After he's finished with his complaints, I went upstairs to clean the master bath and make the bed, while he prepared to leave the house on an outing with a friend. Older son leaves for school, with his normal..."Bye Mom, love you, see ya later."
It took me a full 20 minutes to realize I'm alone..well almost. The dog is still here but he doesn't count really so I contemplate flipping on my iPod and decided against it. Weird for me, since that is normally the first thing I'd do, but today I felt like I needed the silence. I finished cleaning the bathroom, threw in some towels to be washed, and cleaned the other bath upstairs. Then I came downstairs to clean that bath but the computer called me.
Really, it made a noise. Boooooop! I guess it meant I had mail or something, I did check but it wasn't anything great. I pondered briefly the notion of having the computer make a noise only when I have mail from someone good. Of course that kinda led me here.
My Big Fat Nothing Day
That's exactly what today is, a big fat nothing day. I'm making a shrimp scampi like thing with pasta tonight for dinner. Sound exciting? No, not really to me either. I still have that final bathroom to clean, but now I'm all about avoiding it. My mojo isn't in the mood and I'm thinking of taking the dog for a walk instead. I do have tonight to look forward to since it's MMN (mom's movie night) this week my selection is In the Heat of the Night starring the amazing Sidney Poiter and Rod Steiger.
Maybe I'll try to plan some excitement for tomorrow. Can excitement be planned like a birthday party or does it just have to happen on it's own?
I'll let you know.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
We all know the economy is in the toilet and while we wait to see if Congress has the courage or not to flush it, I decided to change gears. I'm not going to watch the VP debate on Friday, because I don't care about them. I know it sounds weird coming from me, and while I do care who is elected president, I just can't bring myself to care who the VP is. I know today they do more than just waiting for the president to die or be killed but I still just don't care.
Why Am I So Dull
I guess it's because I'm not doing anything exciting, well, unless you count blogging to be exciting. I got up early, as usual, got little son off to school or rather on the bus that takes him to school. Grabbed the car keys and before anyone else was up ran to the store to pick up a few things. Very few since I"m trying to watch my pennies, just bought things that were needed to keep the house running until my husband gets paid again. Nothing exciting happened there unless you count the register guy I know begging me to jump ahead in line so he could buy cookies for his break. They time the breaks you know--at least that was his excuse.
My older son got up, and informed me that he was feeling better (he had a sore throat yesterday) downed a muffin and cup a tea then bolted outside to pick up dog poop in the backyard. See? Even he is dull. Meanwhile husband shows himself downstairs, complaining about things that for once have nothing to do with me, so I let him prattle while I sipped coffee. After he's finished with his complaints, I went upstairs to clean the master bath and make the bed, while he prepared to leave the house on an outing with a friend. Older son leaves for school, with his normal..."Bye Mom, love you, see ya later."
It took me a full 20 minutes to realize I'm alone..well almost. The dog is still here but he doesn't count really so I contemplate flipping on my iPod and decided against it. Weird for me, since that is normally the first thing I'd do, but today I felt like I needed the silence. I finished cleaning the bathroom, threw in some towels to be washed, and cleaned the other bath upstairs. Then I came downstairs to clean that bath but the computer called me.
Really, it made a noise. Boooooop! I guess it meant I had mail or something, I did check but it wasn't anything great. I pondered briefly the notion of having the computer make a noise only when I have mail from someone good. Of course that kinda led me here.
My Big Fat Nothing Day
That's exactly what today is, a big fat nothing day. I'm making a shrimp scampi like thing with pasta tonight for dinner. Sound exciting? No, not really to me either. I still have that final bathroom to clean, but now I'm all about avoiding it. My mojo isn't in the mood and I'm thinking of taking the dog for a walk instead. I do have tonight to look forward to since it's MMN (mom's movie night) this week my selection is In the Heat of the Night starring the amazing Sidney Poiter and Rod Steiger.
Maybe I'll try to plan some excitement for tomorrow. Can excitement be planned like a birthday party or does it just have to happen on it's own?
I'll let you know.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Monday, March 17, 2008
Never Put Off Tomorrow What You Can Do Today
I Should Have Known
I had skipped blogging for a while, actually a long time now, because my posting habits have been somewhat lackluster. I keep meaning to change that but, I just keeping finding better things to do than blog. Sometimes blogging to me, seems like work, trying to come up with the right thing to say when nothing is going on becomes an arduous task. I feel I lack discipline, but I guess the truth is I lack the time to sit quietly at the computer with my thoughts.
Later, I start thinking of things I want to blog about, mentally at least I ponder countless things to share, but then I sit at the computer and nothing comes to mind. It's frustrating and makes the task of blogging even more difficult. Then it happened, my computer started acting up in a weird but subtle way, for nonetheless, as anyone that carries their whole life on a computer knows is foreboding.
It was a Monday, a day like any other day, I sat down with my full coffee cup in hand, and noticed the computer sounded like an airplane ready to take off. The screen was an empty gray, with the characteristic apple staring at back at me, lifeless. I shut down the machine, and restarted, same thing happened. I mentally panicked, what would I do if I couldn't check my email? How would know what my bank balance was, or how the weather would be?
I went upstairs and told husband that the computer wasn't feeling well, and returned to it's side, restarting again, hoping it would just fix itself. My coffee tasted like water, uninteresting and I felt strangely incomplete. Mentally, I wrote a wonderfully poetic blog about the circle of life, as told by doing laundry. I cleaned the kitchen, washed the floors, and did load after load of laundry, all while contemplating what a cruel bitch life can be.
Meanwhile husband got up, unplugged the machine, and plugged it back, from upstairs I heard the characteristic chime indicating restart. I held my breath; I waited, frozen or maybe just unwilling to move. I heard the sound of fingers hitting the keyboard. What was he doing I wondered, eventually, I mustered the strength to call down and he replied that he was checking his email.
So, now each morning when I get up, I attempt start up, which fails, then I unplug the machine, and plug it back in causing it to start. I know it's a band aid and one day, maybe soon, it won't work.
Which brings me to the overall title of this blog, about not putting off tomorrow what can be done today. I've decided since today the computer is working, I'm back to blogging a lot more often, unless the machine stops working and we're unable to start it. I'm also going to start folding and actually putting away those clothes when they come out of the dryer.
But that's a story for another time.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
I had skipped blogging for a while, actually a long time now, because my posting habits have been somewhat lackluster. I keep meaning to change that but, I just keeping finding better things to do than blog. Sometimes blogging to me, seems like work, trying to come up with the right thing to say when nothing is going on becomes an arduous task. I feel I lack discipline, but I guess the truth is I lack the time to sit quietly at the computer with my thoughts.
Later, I start thinking of things I want to blog about, mentally at least I ponder countless things to share, but then I sit at the computer and nothing comes to mind. It's frustrating and makes the task of blogging even more difficult. Then it happened, my computer started acting up in a weird but subtle way, for nonetheless, as anyone that carries their whole life on a computer knows is foreboding.
It was a Monday, a day like any other day, I sat down with my full coffee cup in hand, and noticed the computer sounded like an airplane ready to take off. The screen was an empty gray, with the characteristic apple staring at back at me, lifeless. I shut down the machine, and restarted, same thing happened. I mentally panicked, what would I do if I couldn't check my email? How would know what my bank balance was, or how the weather would be?
I went upstairs and told husband that the computer wasn't feeling well, and returned to it's side, restarting again, hoping it would just fix itself. My coffee tasted like water, uninteresting and I felt strangely incomplete. Mentally, I wrote a wonderfully poetic blog about the circle of life, as told by doing laundry. I cleaned the kitchen, washed the floors, and did load after load of laundry, all while contemplating what a cruel bitch life can be.
Meanwhile husband got up, unplugged the machine, and plugged it back, from upstairs I heard the characteristic chime indicating restart. I held my breath; I waited, frozen or maybe just unwilling to move. I heard the sound of fingers hitting the keyboard. What was he doing I wondered, eventually, I mustered the strength to call down and he replied that he was checking his email.
So, now each morning when I get up, I attempt start up, which fails, then I unplug the machine, and plug it back in causing it to start. I know it's a band aid and one day, maybe soon, it won't work.
Which brings me to the overall title of this blog, about not putting off tomorrow what can be done today. I've decided since today the computer is working, I'm back to blogging a lot more often, unless the machine stops working and we're unable to start it. I'm also going to start folding and actually putting away those clothes when they come out of the dryer.
But that's a story for another time.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved