Rhys has a request:
I want to ask you a special favor.
Can you imagine spending six months traversing some of the most gorgeous, and treacherous, wilderness in the world? How about spending six months walking through wildly varied landscapes including the scorching desert where the average temperature is 122 degrees? Or through the most rattlesnake-infested portions of America? Or down icy mountains so slippery, an ice axe is required to avoid plunging to certain death?
I will be doing just that. In March 2007, I will begin my six month hike up the Pacific Crest Trail, the second longest hiking trail in America. Winding its way from Mexico to Canada, the Pacific Crest Trail is nearly 2700 miles of extreme diversity, passing through six ecozones and offering amazing scenery and adventure, including multiple encounters with wildlife.
Is it any wonder that less people have completed this journey than have climbed Mount Everest?
As a woman especially, I think it is critical to test ourselves until we find our hidden reserves of determination and strength, and this is the perfect opportunity for me to do that, and perhaps inspire others to do the same.
Boredom is the biggest enemy on the trail, and sometimes you just need to distract yourself. With no TV, radio, or Internet connection, books are the only respite.
I am a voracious reader and can’t sleep without reading for a few hours first, so…I’ll need lots of books for this journey. Would you be willing to lend any paperbacks to me? Old books, dusty books, your 6th grade diary…whatever you can spare!
I love thriller/mystery/horror/woman detective/medical examiner/etc. type fiction, but will gladly accept anything you think may entertain me.
Thank you!!!
She also said I will mail the books back in good condition, or donate them to the local library in their name when through reading them, whatever the person prefers.
I’m writing a book about the hike, and will be giving presentations and motivational speeches afterwards. I’m planning on donating all proceeds from these to my local Humane Society, so there will be a benefit beyond just providing me entertainment.
I think this is SO COOL, and I know that y’all can help out here and keep Rhys in enough reading material for six months.
You can reach Rhys via her website, or by email: rhysalexander (AT) gmail (DOT) com
* * *
If I wanted to buy something that made it possible for me to listen to my iPod in the car, what would y’all recommend? I bought a cheap thing at Target last month and tried it out, but couldn’t get it to work without being static-y, which I suppose is the price you pay for buying the cheap thing, so I returned it. I don’t like to listen to my iPod via headphones in the car, so now I need your help.
Recommendations, please!
* * *
A few months ago, when we had first made the offer on the house but hadn’t yet closed on it, I was doing some looking around online, and I found a recipe for homemade sauerkraut. I like sauerkraut, so I was all “Hey! I should make sauerkraut with the cabbage we grow in our garden!”, and then I said “Oh, but my food processor is kind of a piece of crap. I should look for a new food processor!”
So I moseyed on over to Amazon and looked at the food processors, and as I often do when I’m looking at things and find one that I like and want to remember which one I wanted, I added it to my wish list.
Then I realized that making your own sauerkraut is a long process that involves fermenting it and shit like that, and I shrugged and said “Oh THAT sounds like a pain in the ass” and I went along my merry way.
When Fred’s father and stepmother were looking for ideas for me for my birthday, Fred told them anything from my wish list would be fine.
Which is how I ended up with a
7-cup Kitchenaid food processor in black sitting on the floor of the dining area of the kitchen for the last month or so. I kind of didn’t really need the food processor, and in fact had I gotten the receipt with the food processor, I would have sent it back to Amazon, but I didn’t have the receipt so I shrugged and figured it would come in handy at some point in the future, and after all we were going to have plenty of room for it in the kitchen in Smallville, so there you go.
Yesterday I made
CORE Salsa Meatloaf for dinner, which involves much shredding, and so I finally took the food processor out of the box and set it up.
Oh my GOD. I love the holy hell out of this food processor! It’s quiet and it does the job like nobody’s business, and it shreds like a motherfucker and IT FUCKING ROCKS.
I am realizing belatedly that it’s an AWESOME gift – I think the best gifts are the ones you really didn’t want all that much, but once you’ve got ’em, you realize you TOTALLY wanted ’em and will love and use them forever – and now I am struck with the urge to shred, chop, and dice everything I get my hands on.
* * *
Because I am a stupidhead, when I realized we were running out of checks, I ordered another box of them with our Madison address on them, which will probably take us a year to go through because we don’t write checks all that often. I got another set of personalized picture checks, only instead of using
this picture of Sugarbutt (still one of my favorites) like I did on the last batch of checks, I used
this picture of Jack Frost.
I thought it was an appropriate picture to use, considering how much I hate writing checks. And it cracks me up every time I look at my checkbook.
(I order my checks from
American Bank Checks.)
* * *
Last week, the spud’s tire went flat, necessitating a call to AAA because Fred
is not a man couldn’t figure out where to put the jack. The spud drove around on her spare tire for a day, then went to the oil change place to see about getting her tire patched. They don’t do tire patching at the oil change place, it appears, so she went to Wal-Mart, where she cooled her heels for a good hour or so to find out that (1) They couldn’t patch the tire, there was too much damage and (2) They didn’t carry the tire that would fit her car.
Fred told her to just give it up for the day and that the next day she could run over to Firestone and see about getting a new tire. He told her we’d pay for half of it, because he’s nice that way.
The next day she went over to Firestone, and told the guy she needed a new tire. The guy looked it up and told the spud that the tire was going to cost $200.
Then he lectured her, saying “This is what people don’t think about! They buy those little cheap cars, and don’t think about the fact that the tires are very expensive!”
The spud called Fred to tell him what the guy had said, then said that the guy was going to look at the tire and see if it could be patched. Meanwhile, Fred called Suzuki to see how much it would cost for a new tire.
$100 at Suzuki, though they had to order it.
“If they can’t patch the tire, just thank him and come home,” Fred said.
When the spud was on her way home, Fred and I sat and talked about how it was utterly ridiculous that the guy would quote her a price like $200 for a tire. Because MY ASS does a tire cost $200. I’ve never paid much more than $100 for a tire in my entire life, and before you’re all “That’s why you have to keep buying tires, because you buy the cheap ones!”, let me tell you that if I’ve bought more than eight tires in 23 years, I’d be amazed.
Fred got an idea, and called the Firestone on the other side of Huntsville.
“Could you tell me how much it would cost for a tire for a 2004 Suzuki Aerio SX?” he asked, listened for a few moments, then thanked the guy and hung up.
“106.23, installed.”
I am telling you, I was so pissed I could barely see straight. I was thisclose to grabbing the spud, driving back to Firestone and finding the asshole she’d spoken to so I could say “Is it because my poor sweet baby girl is
young, or because she’s
female, that you are under the impression that she’s your stupid little bitch and you can FUCK WITH HER?” and then castrate him.
Only before I could do that (’cause I was GONNA) Fred called Firestone and said “Can you tell me why it is that I can get a tire for…” etc.
The guy spluttered and then said he didn’t see on their system that they had any such tire, and Fred said, with the supreme self-assurance that only comes with the complete and utter knowledge that you are in the RIGHT and the other motherfucking fuckheaded asshole is in the WRONG, “Well, his name is (whatever) and you can surely call him at (wherever) and I’m sure he’d be happy to tell you about the less expensive tire!”
And the guy spluttered some more and said he’d call the other guy and hung up.
Fred went off to take a bath and the spud went off to hang out with her friends and I sat on my ass in front of the computer (which is shocking, really, ’cause I never do THAT) and a while later the phone rang. Caller ID told me it was Firestone, so I answered the call.
“Is this Miss And3rson?” the man on the other end said.
“It is,” I said, icicles dripping off each word. I judiciously left off the “You fucking motherfucking asshole.” part.
“I guess I talked to your father earlier?” he said.
“You spoke to my husband,” I said. My entire life, people seem to think I’m like 10 years old when I talk to them on the phone. I DO NOT SOUND LIKE A LITTLE KID, FUCKERS.
“Oh, your husband. Could I speak to him, please?” he said.
Now, I ask you. Why was it necessary to determine my relationship to Fred before he asked to speak to him? How is it his business? This is the sort of thing that drives me fucking nuts, just like when telemarketers call and ask if he’s home, and when I say “He’s at work. Can I take a message?” and they start to leave a message, then stop and say “And who’s this?” Well, IT’S THE GODDAMN PERSON WHO ANSWERED THE GODDAMN PHONE YOU FUCKING GODDAMN FUCKERS. IN OTHER WORDS IT’S NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS, IS WHO IT IS, GOT THAT?
I think I have perhaps never mentioned this, but moi does not love the phone.
So I carried the phone up to Fred in the bathtub (note to self: we need a phone by the bathtub) and then couldn’t stand around and make “I call bullshit!” faces at him while the guy spun a web of bullshit because… I don’t know why. Was I cooking something? Was I cleaning something? I don’t remember.
Eventually Fred came downstairs and told me that the guy claimed that the $200 price quoted to the spud was for the high-performance tire, and the lower price was for a tire that wasn’t available on the system to the Firestone guy who had condescended all over the spud.
Which is when I got to make my “I call bullshit” face at Fred, and then I said “I call BULLSHIT!”, and Fred agreed.
So Firestone? Kiss my fucking ass, ’cause you will NEVER get any business from the And3rson family so long as I goddamn live.
And y’all should boycott those fuckers, too. ‘Cause I said so.
* * *
“Howyadoin’, Shweetheart?”
“Bahahahahah! Oh, I crack me UP!”
* * *
Previously
2006: And then the spud said “Is he trying to go to Narnia?”
2005: I’ll take my anonymous life, thank you.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: “What?” he said. “I WASN’T geeky!”
2001: No entry.
2000: Tomorrow, I’m going to go see Dr. Judy for my ear, out of which I still cannot hear anything but constant white noise. ]]>