Month: August 2002

pirated software from one of their auctions two years ago, I’m not holding out much hope. Thank god it was only $11 and not hundreds… Again – CHECK THOSE FEEDBACKS, people! * * * So, contrary to what I previously stated, I won’t be attending JournalCon THIS year, either. It all came down to the fact that it was a choice between my going to JournalCon, or all three of us going to Gatlinburg, and after much discussion we decided it was going to be Gatlinburg. I’m already saving for next year, though. * * * We (Fred and I) watched In the Bedroom last night. I liked it, Fred didn’t. He thought it dragged too much, and whined and moaned about how LONG it was (it’s about 2 hours, for the record). He only was interested in seeing it because he’d heard that one actress smacks the shit out of another, who wasn’t expecting a real slap. Fred also thought it was too jumpy, jumping from scene to scene without any kind of transition, but I think the story was told well. I had NO idea that it was going to end the way it did, and it kind of seemed to strike a false note there, with that happening (heh – I’m trying not to put any spoilers in here, can you tell?). The scenery was awesome – at one point, I yelled to Fred “Hey! I’ve been right THERE! And there, too!”, because the movie was filmed in Maine, and I recognized some of it. There were a couple of goofs – mainly when one character says “But the airport is south of here.” when it in fact is NOT south of where they were starting out from, at least not if they were headed for the Portland airport. That seemed to be an easy thing to check out, and I almost wonder if the director left it in on purpose. William Mapother – Tom Cruise’s cousin – plays Marisa Tomei’s almost-ex-husband. I was amazed at how he had all of Tom’s features – the nose, the beady eyes – but whereas Tom is very good-looking, his cousin is very much not so. Sissy Spacek and Tom Wilkinson were excellent – actually, all the actors in this movie were pretty good. I recommend it, if you’re not the type of person who prefers forgettable action as does someone we all know and love. * * * If you’ve never heard of SHeDaisy, they’re a country group comprised of three sisters, who have had a couple of hits. When their first hit “Little Goodbyes” came out (at least I think it was their first one – and I assume it was a hit, because it was in heavy rotation on GAC), I was absolutely amazed by the resemblance of one of the girls to a famous person. A famous man, to be exact. I submit for your perusal the following two pictures for comparison. On the left, Kelsi Osborne from SHeDaisy. On the right, one Kurt Russell in drag from his role on the craptastic Tango and Cash. You can’t deny the resemblance, no matter how hard you try. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out someday to find out that he’s her biological father or something. Not that I’m saying that Kelsi is manly looking or unattractive – in fact, I think she’s the cutest one out of the three Osborne sisters, but she’s just a dead ringer for Kurt Russell. Could be worse, right?]]>

This is only the breast. Granted, the breast is the biggest part of the turkey, but can you imagine what this guy looked like when he was still alive? They must have pumped hormones into him every 10 seconds – there are entire turkeys smaller than this breast. Looking at this hormone-laden piece of meat makes me… well, it makes me kinda drool, actually. I basted it with Brummel and Brown (for that buttery taste!), and tossed Old Bay and Italian Herb seasoning on it willy-nilly, rather than ruuuuubbing it into the skin. I can’t stand to touch raw meat – remind me to tell the story about the Thanksgiving when Debbie and I were responsible for stuffing the turkey – and it’s not because it was once a living thing or anything. It’s because I can almost see the salmonella running off the meat and running wild across the counters with the sole intent of making me ill from food poisoning. Apparently Fred feels the same way, because when I set the turkey breast on the counter to partially thaw last night (yes, I KNOW you’re supposed to thaw it in the refrigerator, but there’s no way it would have been thawed enough by today to cook it), the frost on the package melted, and Fred said “You’ve got a big pool of salmonella making a run for my bowl of popcorn.” Heh. Anyway, the turkey’s smelling really good right now, and I’m thinking I’ll have to use the leftovers to make some turkey soup for dinner one of these nights. I’d invite y’all – I’m sure there’ll be plenty – but Himself would probably not look kindly upon such a thing. * * * So, now that Athena received the package I sent her last week, I can show you a picture of the funniest damn stuffed lobster I’ve ever seen: I found this guy when we were in Boothbay Harbor – I went into the store to see if they had any stuffed lobsters, because Athena’s baby Ty has an ocean-themed room, and no ocean-themed anything is complete without a stuffed lobster. When I saw this lobster, I fell in love so completely that not only did I buy one for Ty, but I also bought one for ME. (I also bought Ty and his big brother Aidan matching t-shirts with grinning moose mooses meese on them, but forgot to snap a pic.) His name is Looney Lobster, and he’s made by Fiesta� , but I couldn’t find a link where y’all could buy one for yourselves, sorry. You’ll just have to live with that seething jealousy in your hearts, I guess. * * * For some reason, the master bathroom is a popular hangout for spiders. They weave their webs, sit grumpily in them for a day or three, and then move on when they realize that the bathroom isn’t exactly Bug Central. Earlier today, before I vacuumed them up, there were no less than three abandoned fuzz-filled spider webs in the bathroom, and that’s just in the last week. I can understand why they’d set up shop near the downstairs window, the one with the cat door in it, because some kind of bug or another is always trying to sneak into the house there, but in the bathroom? I don’t see it. Considering how many spiders I run across in the house each day, I’m amazed that I was ever scared of them. At this point, I look at them to make sure they’re not poisonous, and if they aren’t (and I haven’t seen a poisonous one yet) I let them go about their business. Sure, if I’m vacuuming or wiping down the baseboards, I suck them up or grab them with my dustrag, but if they’re not in the way and as long as they keep their webs relatively clean – no fuzzies or bug parts hanging around – I could care less. They’re pretty small spiders for the most part – it would probably be a different story if one of those HUGE ones with big, fat bodies showed up next to my desk. Speaking of bugs, while I was in Maine, after we all went out to eat one night, I walked into my parents’ kitchen to see the most ADORABLE little bug sitting next to their sink. It was so cute, sitting there with it’s little antennae waving around as it tried to figure out what planet it had ended up on, that I turned to my father and said “What kind of bug is THAT?” My father looked closely at it, shrugged, and said “Just a bug.” And SQUISHED it with his finger. Poor cute little bug. * * * When I was running around looking for Tubby so I could take the picture for the Theme Thursday yesterday (and for the record, I thought it WAS Thursday yesterday, that’s why I put the picture in my entry), I got some other pretty good pictures I must share. I know you’re amazed – “Cat pictures?!” you’re exclaiming with shock and wonderment, “She NEVER shows us any cat pictures!” Well, there’s always a first time. Doesn’t she look pleased? Spanky’s favorite spot – on the chair in the corner of my room, snuggled under the pillow. He’ll spend all day there sometimes. Another shot of the faaaaabulous Tuberella.]]>

And really, what embodies that topic better than a black and white picture of a black and white cat? * * * With this group always smiling evilly at me, is it any wonder I always feel like someone’s watching me? * * * Fred made a REALLY good choice at the grocery store this week, as far as flowers went. They don’t quite look real, do they? Trust me, they are. And they’re gorgeous, and I love him for buying me flowers that he knows I’ll love. * * * I’m still working on getting those Maine pictures put up. I haven’t actually DONE anything about putting them together you understand, but I’ve been thinking about it (“I really need to get the Maine pictures put up… Hey, is that Welcome Back Kotter?”). One of these days. Speaking of cameras (well, pictures), my father’s birthday is in less than two weeks, and when I spoke to my mother on Sunday she shooed my father out of the room and asked if I could order a camera for him just like mine, and she’d pay me back. So all week I’ve been looking for the best price for the best accessories, and finally decided that my mother could pay for the camera, and Fred and I would give him the accessories that make having a digital camera easier to deal with – the rechargeable battery, the memory stick reader – and that way I know for sure he’ll definitely use his birthday present this year. I’m usually at a loss what to send him and settle for flowers. The camera and accessories will be a big hit, I’m sure. My poor grandmother will probably get flowers again, though. * * * I’m currently reading Choke, by Chuck Palahniuk, the same guy who wrote Fight Club, which I never read. I’m 2/3 of the way through the book, and can’t decide whether I like it or not. Though now that I think about it, I had the same reaction to Fight Club, the movie. And speaking of books, Fred was laughing so hard when he was reading Barrel Fever the other night that I thought he was going to pass out. I think that’s the next thing I’m going to read, because I know I’ll like anything by David Sedaris.]]>

This one is my favorite. * * * While I was scanning stuff, here are a couple of things from last week’s US. Is Meg Ryan a total dead ringer for Nicole Kidman, or what? Those two could be sisters, I swear to god. I think no one ever told Billy Bob that if you ANNOUNCE you’re taking the high road, then you aren’t taking it. If you say, all smug-like, “I’m taking the high road, unlike that psycho bitch I married, with the creepy BLOOD fetish and everything,” that’s just not the same thing as keeping your big mouth shut and actually TAKING the high road. God, this just cracks me up, because Billy Bob reminds me of someone long-time readers know as Tex, and I can totally imagine Tex sitting back, looking all proud of himself and saying, snidely, “I am taking the high road on this one! But let me tell you about the noises she used to make during sex…” * * * Today was my regular errand-running Tuesday, with a cut and color tossed in. I left the house at just before 9, and didn’t get home until almost noon. After the cut and color (during which I continued reading Choke – I’m not sure I like it), I went to the movie store and rented the following: Showtime Crossroads (shaddup) Birthday Girl Clockstoppers In the Bedroom Yes, I’m embarrassed that I rented the Britney Spears movie, but I couldn’t help it. If I didn’t watch it, there might be a pop culture joke down the road I wouldn’t understand. Besides, I think she’s just as cute as she can be, so y’all shut the hell up about it. It couldn’t POSSIBLY be any worse than A Walk to Remember, now, could it? (Famous last words!) I don’t know why I rented so many movies – I’m sure that this week will be just like every other week, where we’re scrambling to watch all our movies before Sunday, which is when they’re due back. Of the five I rented, Fred only wants to see two (Showtime and Clockstoppers) and the other three are ones that I want to see. I might be able to convince him to watch In the Bedroom or Birthday Girl with me (but I’m not holding my breath on that), so I need to either watch them during the day, or after he’s gone to bed. I hope they don’t all suck. * * * I forgot to bitch about the fact that Fred killed off my Petunias (the potted ones) while I was in Maine. So, yeah. Fred killed my Petunias by not watering them, and I came home to a pot of crispy flowers. I cut them back and fertilized the hell out of them, so I’m hoping they’ll come back. Fingers crossed, y’all! To make up for it, he (after some nagging from me) planted my butterfly bush in the yard. It wilted almost immediately, but it seems to have perked up a bit after I watered and fertilized it. * * * And by the way, that non-butterfly bush I mentioned in last week’s entry is NOT a marijuana plant. I got enough emails suggesting I was running my own little pot farm that I got worried and looked up a picture of one. As you can see, not even close. None of you fooled me with your protestations of not really knowing anything about marijuana plants, either. Ya damn potheads! 🙂 * * * I’m making a mix cd for a swap on the TMS list, and now that I’ve downloaded all the songs, I’m listening to them before I burn them to CD. Burning them to CD is going to be fun, because once AGAIN my cd drive isn’t working – this is the second computer I’ve had that this has happened to me on – so I’ll have to ftp everything up and then download it all over at Fred’s desk to burn it onto CD. ANYWAY, I’m listening to the songs I’m planning to burn on this CD to make sure they sound okay – you never know what you’re going to get from Grokster – and I’ve realized that I like some really depressing songs. What’s up with that? If I think of it, once the person I’m sending the CD to receives it I’ll post the list of songs. Alrighty, that’s it for today. Y’all have a good one!]]>

Friday We had talked about going to the beach Friday morning, but my mother ended up going over to my grandmother’s house for the morning, and had a hair appointment after, so the kids and I just hung around the house. We were all set to go out for lunch – Liz had called in sick to work and needed a ride to pick up her car (long story), so I offered to take her there, and asked if she wanted to go out to lunch with us, and she did – and we were all ready to leave the house, when we realized that my mother, who had taken her convertible to my grandmother’s house, had taken not only the set of keys for her convertible, but also the set of keys for her Camry, and there were no extra keys to the Camry sitting around, so I had to cancel on Liz. Then Brian suggested that we walk to The Kitty Korner, which makes the BEST Italian sandwiches on earth, and get lunch there, then bring it home. The Kitty Korner’s only about a mile from my parents’ house, and it was a nice day out, so I thought that was a pretty good idea. Not only did we walk there (well, the kids rode their bikes), but we also brought my parents’ dog, Benji, with us. Benji hasn’t quite gotten the hang of the whole “stay on the sidewalk” thing, so I had to keep him on a short leash. It was cool, though. I don’t remember what we had for dinner – oh, wait! Yes, I do! We had lobster. My father had bought enough lobster in case my brother, Randy, showed up, and when he didn’t, the spud and I each got an extra lobster. That’s right, folks, I ate THREE LOBSTERS in one meal. I know you’re jealous. ME LOVE LOBSTER, have I mentioned? Saturday Erm. What DID we do on Saturday? I think that’s the day I slept ’til 9, and had a couple of blueberry muffins for breakfast. I went to the grocery store with my mom, then we spent a couple of hours in the pool (and I got my stupid ass a sunburn, because I’m a dumbass, and didn’t stay in the shady part of the pool). At 5, we had a cookout-type thing. Actually, my mother told everyone we were going to eat at 5, so my uncle and grandmother didn’t show up until 5:30, and my brother Randy showed up sometime after that. Oh! The spud made the BEST poppyseed cake I’ve ever had – it was from a mix, with a package of pudding added, but the BEST part was the outside. When you’re making this cake, instead of flouring the pan, you use a cinnamon/ sugar mixture, and when it’s halfway through cooking, you sprinkle the same stuff on the top. It was SO damn good. We managed to finish it off in pretty quick order. If I think of it, I’ll get the recipe put up in the recipe section. If I haven’t by this time next week, someone remind me, eh? Sunday We (my mother, the spud and I) went to the beach! I got a buttload of pictures (still working on that), walked in the water, and wished that I had brought something to change into, because I was definitely feeling the urge to do some body-surfing. I didn’t, though. Next year, for sure. We were only there about 2 1/2 hours, and I slathered sunblock all over myself TWICE in that 2 1/2 hours, but STILL managed to get pretty well burned. Damnit. We left the beach and went to Fat Boy Drive-In (which, sadly, has no web presence) for lobster rolls and fries. Then it was home, where we hung out, and my mother took the spud to see the Michael J. Fox movie, the title of which escapes my mind – the one about the mouse. (Don’t email me and tell me what it is – I’m sure it’ll come to me, but I’m not coming back to change this) Debbie stopped by to drop off Brian, and I left around 7:30 to go to Liz’s house for pancit and lumpia. DAMN was that some fine food. I told Liz that someday, when I have millions to spare, I’m going to hire her to come cook for me on a daily basis. Did I mention that I did a lot of eating while in Maine? Anyway, after eating and watching Sex and the City (can I tell you how funny I think it is that Amy Sedaris is on Sex and the City while Fred’s smack-dab in the middle of a heated love affair with the works of her brother?), I headed for home. Monday, our last day in Maine, we (my mother, the spud, Brian, and I) hung around the house for most of the morning before deciding to go to the Maine Mall in South Portland for a while. That’s where I got the t-shirts for Fred, from a booth near the center of the mall. We shopped for a few hours before deciding we’d had enough (especially after my mother bought MORE clothes for the spud. Grrr!), then had lunch at The Muddy Rudder. By the time we got home, it was about 3:00, and so we didn’t do much for the rest of the day until we left the house to go eat dinner at Ricetta’s, home of the cute waiter. We got home at almost 9:00, and didn’t do much before it was time for bed. Tuesday We flew home. It was fairly uneventful, aside from the fact that the plane from Portland to Atlanta was incredibly packed, and the spud and I were sitting nowhere near each other. As we sat in our seats on the plane, before it took off, I decided to throw myself on the mercy of the guy sitting next to the spud. “Hiiiiiii,” I said, uber-friendly and smiling like I knew I was asking a lot of him. “I’m in seat 17C – would you mind switching with me so I can sit with my daughter?” He turned around and looked to confirm that seat 17C was empty, then grabbed his stuff and went back there, without saying a word. I have no idea whether he was pissed, or simply figured that nothing more needed to be said about the matter, but I showered him with “Thank you SO much!”s as he walked away. The rest of the flight was uneventful, and we had a 2-hour layover in Atlanta. We stopped for lunch at TGI Friday’s, at the end of concourse B (I think), and then walked to our gate, B33. We’d been sitting there for about an hour, when the guy working the gate announced that there’d been a gate change, and our flight would be leaving from gate B27. We went to that gate, saw that our flight wasn’t listed on the “Next flight leaving” screen, and decided to find a monitor. Which was many, many gates away. Our flight, in fact, was going to be leaving from gate B5, so we had a bit of a hike ahead of us – good thing we don’t do that carry-on luggage thing! The flight from Atlanta to Huntsville was so empty that the spud and I each got our own row. I love the flights from Huntsville to Atlanta and vice-versa because they’re so short that you no sooner get to cruising altitude than the pilot is announcing that the initial descent into Huntsville (or Atlanta) is beginning. Fred drove up to meet us at the door, we tossed our luggage in the back, and voila! we were home. And this damn entry’s at an end, thankyajeezus.]]>

Tuesday After waking up at some ungodly hour (5 am) in the morning, showering, wandering around to be sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, and waiting for Fred to be ready to go, we left the house at about 6:15. We were at the airport only a few minutes later, and Fred dropped me off at the door, kissed and hugged me goodbye, and was on his way. Don’t email him and tell him what a horrible husband he is – there’s no reason he needed to come in with me, since he couldn’t go past security to the gate. The line at security was long and winding, so I pulled out my book and started reading. It moved slowly, but I eventually made my way to the front, went through the metal detector, and was patiently waiting for my purse to come through the x-ray machine, when I was tapped on the shoulder. That’s right. Wanded again. The flight from Huntsville to Cincinnati was fine, everything was on time, and I had plenty of time to stop and grab a Diet Coke and a danish while I was walking from one gate to another. The plane from Cincinnati was packed, but the most astounding thing happened when I was looking for my seat on that plane. Y’see, I was in seat 17C, which is on the aisle. I walked to row 17, and saw that a woman in a suit was sitting in my seat – 17C – turned sideways and talking to a boy in the window seat. I tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” I said politely. “I think you’re sitting in my seat.” She turned around, looked me over, and carelessly said “Yeah, I’m talking to him about where he wants to sit.” AND THEN SHE TURNED BACK AROUND AND KEPT TALKING TO HIM. I looked at the woman standing behind me, waiting to get by, and we rolled our eyes at each other. What I really WANTED to do was say “Well, talk to him all you want, but GET YOUR FUCKING ASS OUT OF MY SEAT, YOU FUCKING BITCH.” But I did not. I also wanted to say, loudly, to the people standing impatiently trying to get by me, “I’m so sorry, folks. This BITCH is sitting in MY seat, discussing with a 10 year-old boy where he wants to sit. I’ll tell you this – HE AIN’T SITTING IN MY FUCKING SEAT!” Again, I didn’t. After three or four minutes of standing and waiting, it was decided where the child wanted to sit, and he slid over into the middle seat, and the BITCH moved around him to sit in the window seat, and finally my seat was free. I had assumed that the woman and the child were together, but I soon found out through some subtle eavesdropping that the child was traveling from San Diego to Maine by himself. And he’d been assigned the window seat, and THE BITCH TALKED HIM INTO SWITCHING SEATS WITH HER. What a fucking bitch. Can you tell I’d like to go back through time and grab her by the neck? Bitch. And I’m not saying “bitch” in a good way, either. Anyway, the flight from Cincinnati was eternal, with a fidgety, annoying 10 year-old boy sitting next to me, constantly leaning over to tell me what page I was reading, and also constantly needing to get up to go to the bathroom or ask a flight attendant for another Coke. But eventually we got there, obviously, and I didn’t see my father or the spud or Brian anywhere, so I thought perhaps they were waiting for me at baggage claim. I was halfway down the escalator when I heard Brian yell “Auntie Robyn!”, and looked over to see him and the spud halfway up the stairs. They met me at the bottom of the escalator, and told me that my father hadn’t been able to find a parking space, so he had let the kids off to find me, and was circling. We waited for my luggage, me trying to explain that there was no way in hell they wouldn’t see the bright yellow duffle bag with “Robyn” on the side of it (I got it at LL Bean’s for the 3-Day last year, and it looks just like this, only with my name on it. And it has wheels! Very convenient, but if you fill it full, it tends to be very heavy, as well). Anyway, we got my bag and found my dad, and hit TGI Friday’s for lunch. When we got to my parents’ house, my mother was in the pool, and so I unpacked and went down to the pool, where I got in for about ten seconds, declared it too cold, and got back out. Debbie showed up a while later and yelled at me for bringing the heat with me. The entire time I was in Maine, everyone kept whining about the heat and humidity, and I have to say that they’re out of their freakin’ minds. It was pleasantly warm, but NOTHING like the sweltering heat we had in Florida, or even like the heat we have here in Alabama, so I think they’re all just a bunch of wimps. Wednesday We (my mother, the spud, Brian, Debbie and I) got going fairly early on Wednesday morning, and headed to Boothbay Harbor. Boothbay Harbor, for those of you who don’t know, is a fairly small, isolated fishing village with lots of little shops and restaurants. You can shop and look at the ocean! Does it get any better? As we walked into town from where we’d parked (we parked in a 2-hour parking spot, but went way over the 2 hours, and still didn’t get a ticket. Yay!), I said that I needed to find postcards, and preferably the cheapest ones possible – not that I don’t think y’all are worth the expensive postcards, but I had 115 to send out, and money doesn’t grow on trees, y’know. The first shop we stopped in had postcards for 20 cents each, or 8 for $1.49. I made a mental note of that, and decided that if we didn’t find them cheaper elsewhere, I’d stop on our way back to the car and buy what I needed. There were some shops with seriously cute stuff, and we had a good time shopping. We stopped for lunch at The Fisherman’s Wharf, wherein I had the crab chowder and a cheeseburger. In fact, except for my mother, we all had cheeseburgers, and when the young, nervous waiter picked Debbie’s cheeseburger and fries up, the plate slipped, and all her food went all over the floor. Naturally, he reacted by saying “Shit!”, and then spend ten minutes apologizing for it, poor kid. He put a rush order on a new cheeseburger for Debbie and then took it off the bill, so we were happy all around. On the way out of the restaurant, we passed a little booth with information about the whale-watching tours, and Debbie grabbed me a handful of postcards, so those of you who got the postcard with the ship on the cover? It was stolen merchandise. Actually, not really STOLEN, because they don’t charge for those postcards, but they also probably don’t intend for people to yank up a handful at a time, either. Anyway, with 20 postcards in my purse, I needed to buy only 100, instead of 115. After lunch, there was more shopping, a stop for ice cream, and yet more shopping. I desperately wanted to get Fred a t-shirt that said “Boothbay Harbor – a drinking village with a fishing problem”, but I was NOT spending twenty bucks on a t-shirt. All the postcards we saw were more expensive than the 20-cent ones I’d seen in the first store, so on our way back to the car, we stopped at that store so I could buy the ones I needed. I bought them (and the guy working the register looked at me like I was a total freak for buying so many of them), and then we decided to stop in the store next door before heading to the car. Wouldn’t you know it? We walked in the door and found postcards for TEN CENTS EACH, damnit. Obviously, the work of the Karmic Boomerang, set off when Debbie grabbed those free postcards. I don’t recall what we did for dinner Wednesday night, but I’m sure it was mighty damn good. Thursday There wasn’t much to Thursday – we (my mother, the spud, Brian and I) spent several hours in the morning at my grandmother’s house, then took her to her hair appointment (which she has every Thursday at 1:30). While she was there – it takes about an hour – we skipped over to the little mall at Cook’s Corner in Brunswick and visited TJ Maxx. I was looking around, when Brian came over to me. He was holding a football jersey. “Look, Auntie Robyn!” he said, excitedly. “It’s a football jersey! All I’ve ever wanted my entire life is a football jersey!” “Oh yeah?” I said, still looking through the shirts. He went to show my mother, and three minutes later was back at my side. “Look, Auntie Robyn!” he said, excitedly. “It’s a white tank top! All I’ve ever wanted my entire life is a tanktop! I’ve been looking for one JUST like this!” “That looks like something PaPa would wear,” I said (the kids call my father PaPa). He went to show my mother his find, and was soon back at my side. “Look, Auntie Robyn!” he said, excitedly. “It’s a Tar Heels cap! All I’ve ever wanted was a Tar Heels cap!” After several renditions of this particular song, I said “Brian, pick out one thing you want more than anything, and I’ll buy it for you.” He came back with the white tank top. As my mother and I were about to check out, I sent the kids out to the car to start it and crank the air conditioning, and then I ran over and snagged the Tar Heels cap for him, too. He was happily surprised. That evening, we had chinese food for dinner – a buffet – and it was mighty fine, especially the crab rangoon. Okay, this is getting long. To be continued tomorrow…]]>

I had to use two pictures, because I couldn’t decide which to use, so I’m breakin’ the rules. Breakin’ ’em! Both pictures are from Maine. From August 1, the theme is “Adornment”: My engagement ring and wedding band. The picture didn’t come out that well, because the camera refused to focus on the diamond and I couldn’t get it to do so, damnit. In any case, this is the only jewelry I wear, most days. If we’re going out to dinner, I’ll occasionally put on a pair of earrings, but that’s about it. From July 25, the theme is “Home”: Another two pictures I couldn’t decide between. The first, a shot of Fred’s shoulder, because my face fits there perfectly, and when my face is resting on his shoulder and he’s hugging me, I feel perfectly at home. Stop making those gagging noises. The other, a picture of the beach in Maine. ‘Nuff said. 1. Do you have a car? If so, what kind of car is it? We have two cars, both of them ’97 Jeep Grand Cherokees, although Fred’s is nicer on the inside than mine, and also has a sunroof. 2. Do you drive very often? Probably 3 – 5 days a week I have errands to run. They’re usually in the area, though, and don’t require driving for very long. If I go somewhere with Fred, he usually drives. 3. What’s your dream car? A Mazda Miata, yellow. But given the price, I’m more likely to get my second choice, a yellow VW Beetle. 4. Have you ever received a ticket? Yes, a couple of years ago. I don’t remember how fast I was going, but I do remember that I stammered out a dumb-ass excuse and also wasn’t wearing my seatbelt. 5. Have you ever been in an accident? I’ve been in a couple of fender-benders, the most recent one at the beginning of June. Oh! Wait, I had completely forgotten. Several years ago when I was living in Rhode Island, before I met Fred, and while I was driving a Ford Tempo, I was backing out of a space in a parking lot and crashed into a guy driving a Jeep. There was only a dent on my trunk, but I crushed in the side of his Jeep. Since I didn’t have insurance at the time (and it was required to have insurance by Rhode Island law), I followed him to the nearby Jeep dealership and paid cash to have his Jeep repaired (we had, the day before, gotten our tax refund). August 2: 1. What is your lineage? Where are your ancestors from? I’m a total mutt, and have in my lineage: 1/8 Scottish, 1/8 Cherokee, and various parts French, English, and German. 2. Of those countries, which would you most like to visit? Scotland, definitely. 3. Which would you least like to visit? Why? France, because I’m a-scared of the French. They’d take one look at me, turn up their noses, say something cruel and cutting, and I’d be a sobbing mess on the floor. 4. Do you do anything during the year to celebrate or recognize your heritage? Nope. We always have corned beef on St. Patrick’s Day, but I’m not Irish. 5. Who were the first ancestors to move to your present country (parents, grandparents, etc)? Not a clue. Which is sad, because my paternal grandfather did some serious research of his roots and I have a book somewhere of my ancestry traced back ten zillion years. Of course, my great-great grandmother was Cherokee, so I would guess that that part of the family was here long before any of you damn land-stealers were on the scene. Get off my land! For some reason, that made me think of Fat Bastard bellowing “Get in mah belly!”]]>

(note my gorgeous petunias growing in the background) The other plant looks different. The leaves are thinner and a bright green, and there’s not anything actually growing around the stick, everything that’s growing is nowhere near the stick. This is that one: Now, here’s my question: is the second one a butterfly bush, or have I been carefully tending to a growing weed? It’s time to plant the butterfly bush in the ground, since it’s gotten too big for the pot, and if this one’s a weed, I don’t want to be planting it nowhere – I want to torture and kill it. Help? But that’s not all the gardening-type advice I need! My mother had a pot of gorgeous flowers hanging from below her deck. When I asked her what they were, she shrugged and said she hadn’t a clue. This is where y’all come in and tell me what the hell they are, because I really like them and want to grow some of my own next year. Here’s a pic: I’ve discovered since writing this entry, that this is a million bells petunia plant, which you’d think I’d know, seeing as how I have ten zillion regular petunia plants in the front garden. Nothin’ gets by me, nosir. I’m working on an entry about the trip to Maine, it should be up over the weekend. Actually, that’s a lie. I’m not really working on it, I haven’t worked on it at all, but it should still be up over the weekend. And the vacation pics will be up at some point in the next week. Don’t pressure me, damnit! There are, however, a few pictures I took that don’t really fit in the vacation pics category. Monday night – the night before we flew home – we all went out to dinner at Ricetta’s in Falmouth. As we were sitting there talking, I looked up and saw the most adorable waiter talking to someone at another table. Since I had the camera with me, I snuck a few pictures of him. They didn’t come out great – I didn’t use the flash, because I didn’t want to make a complete fool of myself, so I used PSP to lighten the pictures a little – but you get the idea. The more I look at the pictures, the more I think he looks like Ed. The spud was all freaked out that I thought someone was cute, because I guess she thinks I should be blind to the presence of cuteness in anyone other than Himself, small animals, and children. Finally, I said “Would you CALM DOWN? I’m not going to divorce Fred and marry the cute waiter. Jesus!” I was struck anew by how many personalized license plates there are in the Brunswick/ Topsham area. Here in Madison, you see a personalized license plate every once in awhile. They’re not rare, but most people have the regular issued license plates. In Brunswick and Topsham, I would guess that 30% or more of the license plates are personalized. I went to the grocery store in Topsham with my mother one day, and there were maybe 40 cars in the parking lot. Everywhere I looked, there was a personalized license plate. Did I take pictures, you ask? Well, of course. My favorites are “Buteful”, because when I first saw it, I misread it as “Buttful” (hee!), and “Titifly”, because I think someone was asleep at the switch at the DMV that day. I mean, if they wouldn’t let Liz get “LizBtch” on her license plate, why would someone be allowed to get “Titty Fly” on theirs? Ah well. Think they’d let me get “Bitchypoo” on my license plate? And lastly, you can read in Fred’s entry about the t-shirts I bought him in Maine, but here are pictures of the ones I didn’t buy him: I didn’t buy the first one, because black shirts in our house don’t stay black for long, what with all the white cat hair flying around, so I try not to buy black t-shirts for Fred. I didn’t buy the second one because it didn’t come in XL, and Fred likes his t-shirts with a little extra room. They both cracked me up, though, especially the first one, because I’m the caller id queen. If the phone rings, I check the caller id, and if it’s not for me, I don’t answer it. Reader Dez pointed out to me that apparently Fancypants has been reading the funnies, evidence presented here. This one cracked me up, too. I love that comic strip. So, the spud started 8th grade yesterday. Hey, she started 8th grade on 8/8! I just now noticed that. Freaky. Anyway, one of the things that pisses me off about Madison is that once the kids are past elementary school, they don’t get a supply list of the stuff they’ll need. So they don’t know what they’ll need until the first day of school, when each teacher gives them a list. And I understand that there’s not a standard supply list due to the fact that the kids have different classes in middle school, but there are these THINGS called COMPUTERS, and 99% of the people in Madison have them, and since we pick up the kids’ schedules two weeks before school starts, we know which classes they’re taking, and therefore, if each teacher had a LIST of the supplies their classes needed somewhere online, then people could BUY their freakin’ supplies BEFORE the first day of school, and Staples would not be crowded with frantic adults and children, running around in circles and trying to find the fucking dividers. If you are the parent of a spazzy child like the spud, you MUST go out the evening of the first day of school to buy the supplies instead of waiting for the weekend, because if you do not, the spud will worry herself sick thinking about how her Algebra teacher will tell his students to pull out their scientific calculators and she will be the only one in the class without one, and everyone in the class will laugh and point. So we went to Staples. Where everyone else in Madison was running around bellowing “WHAT KIND OF DIVIDERS DO YOU NEED, THE ONES WITH POCKETS OR WITHOUT?!” across the store. We still managed to run wildly through the store, throwing supplies into the cart, grabbed up the very last scientific calculator in the entire store, and were out of there in less than half an hour. I consider that pretty damn good.]]>

The Firm videos and Trident gum – but I saved some money by buying the super-big-ass jug of Whisk rather than Tide, so it all evened out. Well, I didn’t save $17.99 on the laundry detergent – which is what the videos cost – but every little bit helps. Or somethin’. * * * You know, I hate my fucking mailman more and more each day. I was balancing the checkbook last night (I use Quicken), and found that three checks I’d written at the end of April – three checks I wrote on the same day, and went out in the same batch of mail – hadn’t cleared. I called the bank to double-check and found that none of those check numbers had been through the system in the past six months, and I always place the outgoing mail in my mailbox and put the flag up so that the mailman will take my bills and carefully make sure that they go into the mail system and reach their destination, and the only conclusion I can reach is that he lost all three of those pieces of mail, which just pisses me off. And it’s so unusual that anything pisses me off, isn’t it? * * * The spud’s school had scheduled it so that the parents of kids going into the 8th grade could stop by with registration fees and pick up their schedules last Thursday. Since we were out of town on Thursday, I called the school Friday morning and asked if there would be a make-up registration day. “There sure is,” the woman in the school office told me. “Monday from 9 to 1.” So this morning (remember, I’m writing this on the 29th), I show up at 9:20 and ask the lady in the front office where I can pick up the spud’s schedule. “Oh,” she said. “That’s next Monday, from 9 to 1.” Silly me to assume that “Monday from 9 to 1” would mean the upcoming Monday. * * * Fred had occasion, over the weekend, to visit Staples. I He was doing some self-editing with his baby, and decided that he needed a red pen rather than the black pen he was using. When he got home, he proudly said “Well, there are two more people who know that I’ve written a book!” “Oh really?” I said, surprised. “How did the topic happen to come up?” “Two girls were standing and talking in the pen aisle, stocking while they talked, and I said ‘Can you tell me where I can find a red pen?’, and one of them said ‘Do you mean like a marker?’, and I said ‘No, like the kind you’d use to grade papers’, and they said ‘Oh, are you a teacher?’ -” “Oh!” I interrupted. “So you said ‘No, I’m not a teacher. I’M EDITING MY MANUSCRIPT!” I made the “my manuscript” come out very deep and echo-y. For the rest of the day, I teased him by saying things like “I can’t do the dishes. I’m EDITING MY MANUSCRIPT!” Y’know, I have way too much fun making fun of that man. Heh. Okay, that’s it. I’m outta here, and there’ll be no more entries until sometime next week. Try to live without me!]]>