grill meets girl

Another male, inanimate object has made his way into my life.
This weekend, I went and got myself a new grill.
I think I mentioned this down in the meme of eight.
Its a wonderful grill, especially for apartment living. My balcony has three walls, and a ceiling, so a real grill, that uses charcoal, wouldn't be prudent. Unless I wanted to burn the neighborhood down and get charged with arson, and stupidity. Then, it'd be perfect.
So I always get gas grills. Over the last years, I've been getting those tiny, cheap, portable thingy's. And they never last a whole summer without going belly up. They can't tolerate the demand I put on a grill, I guess.
So I went shopping this weekend. It started out rough. One place I went to (that I'll never visit again) tried to sell me an expensive grill, but couldn't sell me the gas for it. Because the ONE person in this ENTIRE HUGE STORE with the keys was out to lunch. I won't be shopping there, again.
When I called to bitch about it to Celtic Rose, she sent me in the direction of another store. I called them, to see if they had an assortment in stock. I was promised by "The BBQ guy" that they had such an assortment, that I could choose from "feeding one person, to feeding the U.S. Army". As if I'd feed the Army. (Go Navy!)
So away I went, prepared to vent my spleen on the hapless "BBQ guy" if he had exaggerated to me. I got to the place, walked in, and made a beeline for the area I supposed the grills would be in. Oh, magical grill heaven! He wasn't lying! Grill's as far as the eye could see! Quickly taking it all in, I zero in on what I want. I touch, look, lift out the grill plate. I found the perfect grill. And it has a cute little stand, with wheels, that makes it the perfect height for me to stand and cook at. Plus, the stand converts to a wee dolly for the grill, in case you want to take the grill on a walk.
The best part? He went and got mine, and two other people wanted one, too, and mine was THE LAST ONE! Ha! I got there just in time to save my little grill from being unloved by those other people. (For they could not love him, like I do.)
Since he has come home with me, I've used him every night. (that sounds pretty sordid.) Steak the first night, teryaki pork chops the next, and last night? Gorgonzola burgers. And every night with the meat, I have, without fail, grilled corn on the cob. My absolute favorite thing to grill. I should just go out and grill corn on it and have that for dinner, alone. Maybe, I will. Hmmmm
Now with my penchant for naming inanimate objects, I feel it's not right that my car, my alarm clock, and even well, Herman, has a name, and my grill doesn't. It's a Weber grill, and I don't like that name. (Or Potsie, for all you Happy Days fans.)
Here is where you all come in. Name the grill. Seriously. Send your suggestions, and I'll put up a poll for the week. You can all vote. (like enough people read this to really make a landslide, but whatever. . .). The poor lonely grill needs a name.

aaargh.

Whomever this Knicksgirl whatever bitch is. . .
can she stop now?
Spam Comments really piss me off.
I'm going to really start hating the Knicks, just because of her name.
ENOUGH.
If she comments on this post, I'm going to search her out and do horrendous, torturous things to her.

Once again, the Meme of eight

CamiKaos came home from vacation just to tag me with a meme. Well maybe not JUST for that. She missed her home and kitties and stuff. But still. Here I am. Tagged. Eight things about me you don't know.
I could just go find the link to the last one I did. But I won't. I'll attempt to think of eight more things about me that some people don't know. It helps that most of you have never met me. Here we go.
1. While I was in the Navy, the ship I was on for the last 2 years went out to the Persian Gulf. We went back and forth to Bahrain, Abu Dhabi, and Jebal Ali. (Think that's spelled right. Arabic was never my strong point.)
2. I had no intention whatsoever of being a nurse. One of my pet peeves growing up was the constant comparison to my sisters. Being the youngest of three girls, that happens. I was going to be a teacher. Until I realized that teachers cannot support themselves with the poor wages they make. Now, I love my job, and I am not sure I would have been so happy as a teacher.
3. I bought a new gas grill this weekend, and have spent every night outside BBQ'ing yummy things. Newman is going to get BBQ dinner this week when he comes.
4. I collect sheep. Not the live ones. I have some stuffed sheep, and a few ceramic sheep. I also have a few turtles.
5. I am going to Portland, Oregon at the end of the month to spend a few days with the Kaos family.
6. When I am writing, I love the smell of incense in the air. There is this great shop in town that sells some really nice "flavors" and I am one of their regular customers.
7.I will take a picture of just about anything, if it seems "artistic" to me. Even beer bottles in the snow.
8. I love the winter. I love it when it snows here, especially if I am not going anywhere. I will sit, and watch the snow fall, and be completely satisfied.

There. eight things. Now, I get to tag other people. This is where it gets interesting, because CK and I cyber-know most of the same people. An obvious choice is Celtic Rose. If she blogs again this month, maybe she'll tell us 8 things. Bubblewench can consider herself double tagged. (One in each ear?) And Mimi. I never tag her for anything. She may have done this before, as well, but I thought of another eight things, I bet she can, too.
Now for the interesting part. I hereby tag everyone lurking. You know who you are. If your reading this, and have never commented here before. Your it. And leave a comment so I know where to go look!
Anyone else who is reading this, and wants some blog fodder, go for it. Tell us 8 things about yourself, as well.

Hufflepuff, I like it!

The sorting hat says that I belong in Hufflepuff!

Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot, and treat them just the same."

Hufflepuff students are friendly, fair-minded, modest, and hard-working. A well-known member was Cedric Digory, who represented Hogwarts in the most recent Triwizard Tournament.

 

Take the most scientific Harry Potter
Quiz ever created.

Get Sorted Now!

what to buy if you have too much money

I have this friend at work. A lovely woman. A great nurse. She's very funny, as well. She is a single woman, and plans to stay that way.
Within the last few years, she went and bought a house. A pretty nice one. And she's worked hard, fixing it up the way she wants it, with all the features she wants in it. She got herself some cats for company, and has been living there, happy as a lark.
It's also sitting on some acreage. I forget how much. Plenty of brush work for her to do, clearing things, having control burns of all the dead branches ect. she has cleared. I've lost count of how many times she's gotten poison oak. Occasionally, her brother in law comes to lend a hand. But there is not much my friend can't handle on her own.
Recently, she has started researching, and drooling after, Alpaca's. Yes, the animal. From what I can glean, they are the more expensive cousin of llama's. I have knit a few things with alpaca, and I love the yarn that comes from them.
But my sweet heaven, those are costly little buggers! Her Alpaca crush of the week is this gent named "Godzilla". This alpaca isn't for sale, but if you have 5,000 in stud fee's he will be happy to service your lady alpaca for you. Speaking of lady alpaca's. You need over 10,000 to buy a quality one of those. One of Godzilla's daughters, Goddess, is for sale at this moment for a mere 40,000. Peanuts, really it is! (as I gasp in shock). That's actually Goddess, up there, the picture.
This is more than most people pay for adopting a child! Seriously!
I can't believe that people would pay this kind of money, for an animal that has a life expectancy of 25 years at the most!
I know, I hear people in my ear telling me that they would make that money back ten fold by selling the alpaca fiber to people that will make the yarn, and also, selling the offspring of said alpaca. But come on. 40 grand for an animal?
So my friend, she sits at the computer, drooling over these silly beasts. And I just shake my head, and wonder. . .

Cannonball!

Yesterday, for the first time since my extreme youth, I did a cannonball. One thing about growing up. You sink much lower in the water when you do that. Of course, you also displace a lot of water, too.
I did my recent Cannonball at a lake local to Podunk. Yesterday morning, me and Celtic Rose met a friend, SS (supervisor survivor-because she has survived cancer twice) and the three of us took her little boat 'tin lizzy' out and tooled around the lake. It was a beautiful day, lots of people enjoying the water sports, but not too many that we felt crowded on the lake. I have dreams of buying myself a jet-ski, now. I love going and playing in water!
So we three women. We talked, and laughed, and swam, (two of us did, CR needs to find her suit) and we ate. It was a really nice, relaxing day. I'd been awake all night at work, but work had been the epitome of horrors the night before, so a half day on the lake is just what I needed.
I got home utterly relaxed and energyless, with that slightly waterlogged feeling. I didn't even have the energy to type, which would explain why there is no blog dated yesterday.Perfect. I was in bed by 9 pm and slept so hard I can't remember most of my dreams. (For me, that's a strange thing.).

First Kiss

Do you remember your first kiss?
I do.
But that got me to thinking. About first kisses. And I have come to this conclusion. There is a first kiss. In my case, it was in 3rd grade, when Bobby Randall chased me into the tunnels, and his friend held me down so Bobby could kiss me. (Bobby, if you ever find this, I am still mad!). Bobby had a black tooth, and I thought it was catching, and I was going to grow a black tooth.
My conclusion, you ask?
That even though his lips met mine, this did not count. I was NOT a willing participant.
Flash forward to 7th grade. There was a new boy in school, Chris. Brown hair, green eyes. It was crush at first sight. For BOTH of us. In a few days, I was his 'girlfriend'. Not like that involved any time spent together. But one afternoon, he kissed me. A quick peck on the lips, took my by complete surprise. I didn't even have time to react to it before he was gone. I broke up with him the next day.
Conclusion? It was a surprise attack, with no real emotion beyond it, doesn't count.
Alright. Ready for the third leap? It was the last day of my freshman year. The seniors had just graduated, and I had played, with the band, for the graduation. 'Drummer boy' had been my crush all year. And finally, on an empty football field. My first "real" kiss. Then, I never heard from him all summer. That's ok, it was wet and slimy, anyhow.
Conclusion? Yeah, it counts. I was a willing participant, and I knew he was going to kiss me. Was I dissapointed? Yeah. Did he ever kiss me again? Once, but it was no better. We did become good friends, though.
Now I am into a new kind of first kisses. The first kiss you share with someone who you really like. Though it ended all wrong, the first time my ex-husband kissed me, it was like every neuron in my body lit up. There was no violin music or leg curling and that stuff. It just lit me up. I smiled for days. So did he. We were inseperable after that. Each kiss that followed was nice, and enlightening, but none were ever as good as that first contact we made. Like our fate was sealed, with that one, long kiss.
Sadly, as I mentioned, it ended all wrong. We were to young, and we changed in ways that the other could not, or would not accept.
I've had more 'first kisses' since him. Some have been the first, and last kiss. Some have been okay, nice even. Enjoyable. But the current of the electricity wasn't the voltage it should be. Recently, I've had another first kiss. And I have to tell you. It sent my heart racing. For the first time, in a long time. And the electicity was just the right voltage.
And, unless I am mistaken by the dazed look in his eyes when he is done kissing me, he feels the shock, too.

Wordless Wednesday

My strange viewing habits last night.

I have exhausted the re-runs of Northern Exposure, much to my sadness. I never get tired of that show, but I can't watch the same shows, over and over again.
Lately, I've been DVR'ing the X files off the sci fi channel. Love the X files. However. I always get creeped out by the ones where there are children, and aliens.
Its just so freakish. These staring children, who express no emotion after their father(s) have been sucked dry of their blood by something. Mulder thinks it's aliens. Red lightning and all that.But, of course, its not aliens, it is the little girls, they are bred sociopath's with extra gene's, and mental illness. Freaky. The episode is the one called "Eve". I believe, it is the episode where the band "Eve 6" got their name. Still, whenever I watch the X files, that Barenaked Ladies song, "one week" goes through my head.
On another off TV moment, thanks to Bubblewench, I found myself knitting last night, and checking out "Rock of Love". That show, where Bret Michaels from Poison is trying to find the love of his life? Or at least some rock chick to boink.
It is like watching a train wreak. I couldn't take my eyes off it. He looks terrible now! And all these strange women who are dying to be his girl! PLEASE. Money grubbers and fame seekers, all of them. How else could they go through this with a straight face. Bret Michaels is no prize. I don't care how much money he has.
Today, the silly magical black box is staying OFF. I am too freaked by all the stuff I saw last night to want to chance it, again

Andy Rooney

Now, I don't sit and watch 60 minutes on any kind of regular basis. Sometimes, when my TV is on as background noise, it just happens to be what's on.
I'd had music on all weekend long. Doing stuff around my house. Sitting out on the balcony reading HP. ect. ect. By Sunday night, I was ready for a little TV noise.
At about 7:55, I looked up, and there was old Andy Rooney. "He's still alive?" was my first thought. I thought he looked old when I was a kid. Now, he just looks downright ancient. But, he obviously still has a brain. His rant this week was about the silly flavors that the food industries are delivering to us. (He hates Vanilla Coke, btw.)
Then, it hit me. Rooney was giving, for all intents and purposes, a spoken blog. Really. Think about it.
So many of his rants would make a perfect blog.
So is he our blog grandfather? I would hesitantly say yes. Sure, all his posts would be rants, but that's ok. Occasionally, he pops out sentimental stuff, I've heard. I have not paid attention to him in years!
So, next Sunday, at 7:55, maybe I'll wander over and give a listen. Oh, wait. I'll be at work. But the rest of you might go check the old codger out.

Harry Potty bit me!

There are no spoilers in this post. No one get their panties in a bunch.
I merely wish to point out, that I was innocently reading away. I want to know who died, damn it! And that book, the one that millions have been waiting for, that got delivered here at about 1:30 this afternoon-

It reached out, and gave me the paper cut from HELL! It still stings, half hour later! I think its a plot by JK Rowling. She knows I think Harry is going to die. So she told my book to bite me. Heh. I bite back.

Old Movies

I love sitting and watching old movies.
Sometimes, they make me laugh in their antiquity. This mornings selection? Little Women. I loved this book when I was a kid. The first movie adaptation was done in 1949. The second, done in 1994.
Meg was played, originally by Janet Leigh. Its funny to see her in this role. She really isn't how I ever pictured Meg, but I frequently have that problem with movies. She was much better in 'Psycho'. In the later version, Meg was played by a (still) little known actress named Trini Alvarado. Yes, Meg went hispanic. But she was pretty.
The casting of Jo always cracks me up. June Allysone is playing her in the adaptation of old. She was 31 at the time she played the role. I do believe Jo was 19 at the most. And, I can't look at June without thinking about the commercials she made regarding adult incontinance. Just. Eww. Winona Rider was the 'new' Jo. Not much better, in my opinion. Plus, she got a much older professor Bhaer. June Allysone's love interest was much better looking.
Amy is next. She is played by Elizabeth Taylor in the old movie. Elizabeth just doesn't look right with the blonde ringlets. I have to give the better portrayal of Amy to Kirsten Dunst. Plus, Laurie in the second movie was played by Christian Bale. Just. Yum.
I don't know who the actress is that is playing Beth in the original movie. She's cute, and, kind of a better actress than the others. Claire Danes played Beth in the later movie. She was too old for the role, and didn't look 'sickly' enough for my taste.
Anyhow. Now that I've gone through all the sisters. And you probably didn't care. This old movie. Its cute. Victorian sensibilities and all. When Aunt March catches Meg hugging John Brooke? (gasp). Good thing she wasn't in my kitchen last night while I was giving Newman his package of leftovers. (Ahem. yes, dinner was nice. Nuff said.).
I do love the old movies. But this one? Eh. But its good entertainment to pass the morning. But I much prefer the book. They left so much out of the movie. (they always do. . .)
Happy Saturday to all!

the happiest place on earth. . . again

How about one more DL post, since CK, and family, including DK and NK are all headed toward's that bliss, very early tomorrow morning.
I've been to a few of the 'happiest places on earth'. Enjoyed them, too. The creepiest one was the Tokyo Disneyland.
I went there with my friend, Todd, right before I was due to be shipped home. I'd lived in the land of the rising sun for 2 years, in a small town called Yokosuka. It was about a half hour train ride to Tokyo. We got a wild hair one Saturday morning, and off we went.
The first thing we noticed was how freakishly clean the park was. Not one wrapper, goopy ice cream, or anything on the grounds. We searched everywhere.
And, the food. Well. nothing so bad about that, it was "normal" for where we were at, we ate reasonably happy.
We did the usual things, bought the mouse ears, skipped around the (clean) park. They play disney tunes over loud speakers. In Japanese, of course. By the end of our day, we were singing its a small world in Japanese, ourselves.
What freaked us out the most, though, was the haunted mansion. We waited in line, with all the other people, giggling and laughing. We both love the haunted house. We commented, a time or two, on the fact that we hadn't seen any other "round eyed" people in the park that day. But didn't fret too much.
We got into the ride, buckled in. Immediately, things went dark. And overhead, the whispering started. In Japanese. (duh). But it was freaky freaky freaky. This smooth, whispering Japanese voice that talked the whole time. My imagination got away with me. . . I clutched Todd's hand, trying not to worry. Wondering, if the whispering voice was telling all the other riders "kill the round eyes, remember Hiroshima" ect. ect.
Matters did not improve when we started passing little scenes where slanty eyed ghosts and goblins were hovering over their kill. Their kill? All had 'round eyes'. Yes, they did. All caucasians.
Uhm, hello! Can I get off now? Todd and I were strangely silent during that ride, and when we got off, we headed, without word, right to the exit gates of Tokyo Disneyland. Never to return. . .

BANG! and, er, food. I think.

BANG!
POUND POUND POUND POUND.
HAPPY WHISTLING
BANG!

This, is what I woke up to. at 0740, this morning.
This, is what I have been listening to, since 0740, this morning. Apparently, they are doing some maintenance work on the front of my building. Getting it ready to be painted. at 0740. This morning. Grrrrrrrrrrr.

Can you say, headache, of all headache's?
I understand the need to 'beat the heat'. To paint while the sun is shining. I will be glad that my apartment building will (hopefully) look nice and pretty when its done. Because I understand that, I will let them live.
However. I am a night shift person. A day sleeper.
By the Grace of God, I am off for 5, glorious days right now. I can function somewhat normally. (define normal.). Yet another reason why I will let them live. But it better be done. Because if I am trying to sleep for a night shift, with all this banging. They may not survive it.

Ok, on to my regularly scheduled post. The one I've been working on. Only to be rudely interrputed by BANG!

Food. Its very important. I am, kind of a foodie. I like good food. If you are listening to my Mother, known in the blogsphere forever more as Aunt Tuna (who rocks cars in the daylight hours! Tee hee, Thanks, Uncle Kaos!), she will tell you I am a 'picky eater'.
But that's not entirely true. I just don't like everything made with, or covered in, dried Onion soup mix. And she does. Yech. Or, 'taco casserole' out of a box. Seriously. Every stinking weekend when I was a kid, for at least 10 years. My dad still calls it Tacky-Shit. Anyhoo. I am going to tell you about 5 places in my lovely wee town that I like to eat. And if you come here, I will take you to at least 3 of them.

1.Villa Venezia. This restaurant is actually in one of the old, victorian houses near the down-town area. It also has a beautiful, outside patio, that is usually free of bugs, flying or otherwise. They make Italian food the way it should be made. Their 'tagliata' makes me faint with happiness when I eat it. Basalmic marinaded beef goodness. And their chicken? Whether you get the half chicken, roasted with garlic (lots of garlic), or the chicken in marsala sauce, you are a lucky, happy person. And they have a good wine selection, as well. And, they make Bellini's. Yum.

2. The Rail Road Cafe. When you are in the mood to sit, and watch model trains go by, and eat a good burger, or a good sandwich, the Rail Road is where you want to be. They also make home made potato chips that accompany every meal, if you ask for them. Skip the fries! The potato chips are awesome.

3. Humpty Dumpty's. This one is for breakfast. Good, quick, filling breakfasts. Most of the town eat here on a frequent basis. Yet, there is never a wait for a table. Even on Sunday mornings. Its magic, its breakfast. And, they have those placemats that have all the useless information tid-bits. So you have something to read while your waiting. I have never gotten through reading one placemat, though. They are that fast. And, yes, the food comes out fresh, and steamy good!

4.Tuscany Gardens. This place is tucked away. Over there. Yes, there. They make this 'thing'. We will call it a BLT for lack of a better word. But its heaven. They use a round, flat bread, crisped. They use more than one kind of bacon. (Regular, high quality bacon, and the best Canadian Bacon I've ever had.) Crisp lettuce. Juicy goodness. And its huge. CR and I talk about these incessantly. When we can't stand it anymore, we go get a BLT fix. We can only eat half, and the other half? A perfect breakfast the next morning. Or, in my case. Midnight snack. The best thing, ever.

5. I could say my house. Everyone else has. And I can cook. But, I will pass. Anyone and everyone is welcome to come eat here, and decide for themselves if I can cook. Newman is coming for dinner tomorrow. Fresh pesto, fettucini, grilled chicken. But I digress. Lets see, who to pick? Oh, I know. Diego's. This little place, down the way. They serve Chilean food. And its quite good. I don't eat there very often. I should eat there more often. Why haven't we eaten there, recently, CR? Too many BLT's at Tuscany? Probably. But Diego's. They have great food, and they serve it on really different, eclectic table ware. Nothing matches. And I love that.

So, there is my food meme. Following CK's example, I am not going to tag anyone. Do it, if you like. Better, come visit me, so I can take you to eat at my favorite places. And maybe, I'll make you some fresh Pesto, as well!

Wordless Wednesday

sleepy and tired

Ahh, I overslept this afternoon. And now, instead of getting ready for work, like I am supposed to be doing, I am procrastinating, and making a blog post instead. Going to look like crap at work tonight, but who cares?
Have some good post idea's. But they will have to wait for Thursday, because tomorrow is wordless Wednesday!
Go ask Sybil to join a Barbara Walter's fan club, though. She will adore you for it! (more on that later, perhaps?)

Embarrasing moments

I am going to tell you about one of the most embarrasing moments of my life. Why? Dunno. Because it was years ago, I guess, and it just makes me laugh, now.
I was 18, and a newcomer to Navy bootcamp in Orlando, Fla. It was August, and hotter than what I could ever perceive Hell to be. (This was before I ended up in Bahrain, obviously.)
We had just gotten our new, ugly uniforms. Stored in mass quantities somewhere on the base, they all smelt like mothballs, and worse. Yes, they made us wear them before they were washed. . .
Ugly, blue chambray work shirts,white tee shirt underneath, and stiff thick denim bell bottom work pants.In the summer heat of Florida August. Everything stenciled with my last name, that took me ages to stencil on. (Thanks Dad, for the long, German name. The only girl that took longer than me was Czech.)
Worst of all, were the work boots. Big, squat black clunky things referred to as "boondockers". I'd never worn such thick soled boots before. They were the cheap kind, government issue. As soon as I made it to my duty station I purchased much nicer, serviceable steel toed boots. But I had to wear the big clunky boondockers for bootcamp.
The very first day I wore them, clomping out of the chow hall, after eating what they claim was food, (I still have my doubts), I got distracted. Waiting to get into the chowhall, legions of men, all in uniform. All at attention. There were close to 200 of them, standing there.
So me? Being the most graceful person ever? Trip over nothing, flying, cartwheeling, ass end over teakettle. I finally land, on my back. Looking up at the hot Florida sun. Not so co-ordinated in those darn boondockers. I lay there, contemplating the mysteries of life, and whether or not I can melt into the cement. 200 men. Within 10 feet of me. All trying not to laugh, because they are, after all, at attention. Numerous of them failing.
Finally, I get up, and limp away. Noting the small, new hole in my ugly work shirt. Worse? The gigantic bruise on my pride.
Those boondockers rest at the bottom of the ocean, somewhere near Yokosuka, Japan.
Now, because I love stories. I want to know, either in my comments, or on your blogs, what is one of your embarrasing moments?

Sorry

No its not just a boardgame
I redid the poll over there, to your right. It was flawed, because I wrote it half asleep, and left out Voldemort completely! I just couldn't let it slide. . . So, to whomever cast the other vote, beside's me. Sorry, revote! For the rest of you, well, vote already! I promise I won't redo it again.

movie review

Alright. I'll tell you what I thought of Harry Potter. I am not going to "spoil" the movie for those of you who have not seen it, but have read the book. If you have not read the book, but your going to see the movie, you should probably leave now. I'm waiting. . . still here?. . . .

Fine, you gets what you deserve then.

I am a reader of books. I love books, almost any kind of book. Of course, I've read the whole HP series. Its a quirky little tale, with some good and evil and lessons for the kiddies in it.
But when I see a movie, based on a book, I usually leave the theater dissapointed. Never, does a movie live up to the book. HP/Phoenix was no exception.
But, it WAS a good movie. The cinematography was excellent. My, the kids have grown, as well! They did manage to follow the important major plotlines of the book
But they left out so many things I wanted to see. Where was Snape? In like, 3 scenes? And the Umbrige character. Not "froggy" enough for my taste. And, excuse me. Where was the centaur instructor? Where was the bog pond that the Weasley twins left when they sent of their fireworks? I know these are all "minor" things, but I could go on, and on, and on, but I am not going to, because I don't want to ruin it for anyone.
I would reccomend the movie. It was entertaining. CR's Mum loved it. And she's read the books, too. I may be too picky. But I'm glad I went and saw it in the theater, just for the cinematography, alone.
So, there it is. And Syb, I really am trying hard not to post about Newman, in case he has a computer, and googles Mielikki someday, out of sheer boredom. He shouldn't see our dating life in the blogsphere, probably. If you want updates, send me your e mail, and I will keep you in the loop, with BW, and CK!

Girl Day

Today was girl day. It involved a movie (Harry Potter) and lunch, with Celtic Roses' Mum, then, after we dropped Mum off back at home some shopping, and a good deed done by CR.
I had a good lunch, bought some awesome jewelry, and tried not to fret to much about what I had to fret about. Also, started Christmas shopping today. I found something for my oldest sister that is remarkably like something she bought me. They say that people buy things for others that usually appeal to them. Well, lets hope so! Or she will give what I bought away as a 'white elephant' gift soon after Christmas. She should like it, though. And no, I probably shouldn't say what it is just in case she somehow accidentally finds her way here. But if she does, she'd probably hate me anyhow and I'd keep her Christmas present. Hmmmmm. KIDDING!

Another girl thing. My neice, princess? Having a girl baby. I think I said that. The good news? She has left the drunken ass that is the father of said girl baby. Supposedly for good. (Just got off the phone with the previously mentioned older sister.) Lets hope it sticks this time!
Well, boringly enough, that sums up my day. On Friday, I am having "newman" (get it, new, man?)over for dinner. He is technically not new. He is the one I went and saw spiderman with. Don't really want to blog details, (yet?, no never. Have to protect the innocent, unless they agree to be blog fodder. Plus, I don't want to curse it.) but we had a good time at the Farmer's market Thursday night, and he actually had some good reasoning for why he hasn't been around, lately. I feel relaxed and comfortable with him, which is, ironically, how I realized that perhaps, geek boy needed to be set free to find his geek girl. (I sincerely hope he does.)
And lastly, over at the medical blog, MonkeyGirl has gifted me with a 'schmooze' award. So, now I have to pick others to gift with that reward, as well. Oh, well, I gifted her with a 'thinking blogger', so why not? Head on over eventually and find out who I tagged. (It could be you. . .)

I'm a little sad

Something occurred to me, this evening. Something, in a way I had hoped to (somehow) avoid. Someone, I decided, wasn't for me. Not more than a friend.
I think I've been wrestling with this for the last week. In denial, maybe. How many nice guys do I meet, after all?
But, after deep thought, and even deeper conversation with Celtic Rose, I finally decided to step up, and do the right thing. The right thing for 2 people.
No matter how nice someone is, if I am not comfortable with them, if I can't relax around them (even during a phone conversation) even if I can't seem to open up to them, then I don't BELONG with them. No matter how much, or how little I have in common with them. He deserves someone who can do all of that with him. And it isn't me. Whoever it is is actually a really lucky girl. I bet he would be one of the sweetest, most devoted boyfriends ever. Even husband material. And yes, I am a little bit sad that it wasn't me. But secretly? I am also a little bit relieved. I hope he is, too. And I wish him nothing but the best.
Yes, I sent away the shy boy. Let all the boo's and hisses commence. But it was the RIGHT thing to do. It really was.

temptation

There are things I should never buy, and put in my freezer.
Ice cream sandwiches are one of those things. I love those things, and they sit in my freezer, singing their siren song to me. "Come eat us. . . you know you want too. . ."
The way the chocolate cookie outer shell thingy sticks to my fingers? That actually really bugs me. But I still love ice cream sandwiches.
I don't buy them often, or I would be eating them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. (They make an excellent breakfast). I had a box (Had, being the key word)this week. Sadly, this afternoon, I ate the last one.
Part of me wants to run to the store, as fast as I can, to get another one. But I won't. Not for a long time. No matter how long they sing their siren song to me. (Wait, where are my keys?)

why not? Wordless Thursday

following the trend

I am going to fore go wordless Wednesday today, because while I was reading blogs this morning, after a shitty ( and I mean that in EVERY sense of the word) night at work, I noticed a trend.
2 of my favorite blogs were about Cancer this morning. I am pretty sure Uncle Kaos and BubbleWench didn't call each other at the ass crack of dawn, and compare blog topics, so I am going to follow in their lead, and talk about it, too.
My Dad is a Cancer survivor. He was diagnosed with lymphoma. Primary tumor site was in his stomach. He had chemo, and radiation treatment, and there were times when we thought it was going to be the end of him. 2 of his siblings have died of cancer, as well.
The things I remember the most are the brave face he tried to put on it. The frustration he felt when he had to go from doctor, to doctor, to doctor, none of them giving him immediate answers, all of them poking holes in him. He swears to this day that when he had his bone marrow aspiration, his fingertip imprints are still left in the gurney he was laying on. It hurt that bad.
He wanted that cancer OUT. Even if it meant his stomach got taken with it. Thankfully, he had a good oncologist who talked him out of it. The chemo and radiation saved his stomach.
He had a lot of anger, too. At times, it was directed at us, his family. With 3 daughters who are nurses, and a freaked out wife who was watching his every move as well, he felt like he had no secrets, no control. He hated that. I don't blame him. But did I meddle, and ensure he was getting what he needed? Hell yeah I did, he's the only Dad I've got.
Then there were the days he never made it out of his easy chair. Skin and bones, no energy. No life in his eyes. Even changing the TV channel was an effort. About this time, my jackass BIL brought them over some firewood for the winter. And dumped it on the street. Leaving 2 cords of wood for Dad to stack. Every day, he'd go out, and move a few pieces to their designated area wood area, at the side of the house. He kept telling me "its fine. I'll get it done, a bit at a time." Pissed off, I drove down there, and my friend N. and I stacked all that wood ourselves. My mom made us a delicious dinner, and my Dad, with tears in his eyes that he tried to hide, thanked us for finishing the task.
I don't tell that story so that you can be pissed at BIL, too. I tell it because that's how my Dad is. Getting the task done, one stick of wood at a time if he has to. Not wanting to ask for help, but appreciating it when it's given. That's how he beat his Cancer. He's been cancer free for 5 years, now.
I know if it comes back, he may opt to not have chemo, and radiation. I will accept and respect his choice, because it IS his choice. I have seen first hand, at work, and at home, what cancer, and all it involves, does to a person. My heart, thoughts and prayers go out to all the victims of this terrible disease. It continues to touch me, daily. My friend, N., who stacked wood with me? Her Mom is going through it right now. My friend, Mimi? Going through it with her mom. And on, and on and on. Nice man I took care of last night? Just diagnosed with one of the worst kind of lung cancers there is. Cancer affects everyone.
Sorry if this post rambles a bit, truthfully, I am exhausted from last night at work, and this subject does make me emotional. Later, when I re read this I am sure I will cringe. But for now, here it is. A big messy post about the worst disease ever.

my vicious cycle

A few of you know, I went on a mad cleaning spree the other day. I invited a certain friend of mine to Grass Valley, and then lost my head cleaning everything, and anything, within my reach.
Its good to do that, on a semi regular basis. I found things I'd forgotten I had stashed away. Some Euro's, my five year pin from work. Just some odds and ends. And my apartment looked so happy and sparkling when I was done.
Don't get me wrong, it was clean before. But now, it was COMPANY clean. There is a difference.
The problem is, now, I can't find half of my every day stuff! This never fails. I go clean like a crazy woman, then I can't find things for DAYS afterword. Because I have put something where it BELONGS. Then, eventually, I make a mess trying to find what I am looking for, then, of course, my place isn't COMPANY clean, again. Its a vicious cycle. One that could probably be eliminated if I did keep things where they belong, all the time. But, that's too easy, and I really enjoy doing things the hard way.

my strange collection

I posted about Herman, the other day. And today, with my lack of sleep, I am going to post about another important "man" of my life. His name, is Bob.
Bob is an inanimate object. (He is also various family members of mine.). This particular Bob is blue, and shaped like an egg. He came from NYC, a Brookstone store in Rockafeller Center, to be exact. And he came home, riding in a suitcase. (And actually made it!).
Bob is my alarm clock. But he's more than that. He tells me the date, the time, the temperature, he will wake me up, if I need it, and he also is a timer, should I need that. And each thing he tells me to do has a different colored LED screen. Wakey Wakey time is purple, for instance. Normal time, is blue.
He is egg shaped. The people at Brookstone made him so. He is like one of those children's toys, Weebils. "Weebils wobble, but they don't fall down." Neither does Bob. He's very portable, too. Everywhere I go in my travels, I'll take Bob, and some batteries, in case I need to resurrrect him.
I really enjoy Bob's company, obviously. He is one of the more dependable men/inanimate objects in my life. I think everyone should have a Bob, actually. I'm thinking, really, (and shhh you can't tell) many people might get a Bob of their own, for Christmas. I like him so much, I may share. (But I won't share Herman. We have too long a history.)
I am not sure if I have anymore inanimate objects named for men. I'll have to look into it. If I do find one, I'll be sure to tell his story, too!

who will die

Though I bet there are other people who have posted about this, in other blogs, I am going to post my thoughts on who dies in Harry Potter. Yes, I've read them. And, I am betting my thoughts on this will be wildly unpopular. Celtic Rose has already verbalized her opinion to me on this. I have invited her to post a rebuttal on her blog. If anyone has not read the books, or seen the movies, stop here, because some spoilers will be inserted. No new book info, though, I am not that priviledged a person.
I think Harry is going to die. I think he should. It is the only way that we can know for sure Voldemort is dead. They are a part of each other. If Harry didn't die, there is always hope that Voldemort will come back, and the death eaters know it. They will stalk him his entire life, trying to bring back their dark lord. What kind of life is that for a person? It would suck!
Now, maybe she has some hocus pocus up her sleeve that lets Harry die, then come back. I don't know. I'd be kind of dissapointed if she did that. After all, no one else has gotten to come back, and if anyone could do it, it would have been Dumbledore.
Yes, I know that children the world over will be mourning him, as well as the adults. Yes, it might be traumatic. But, not everything gets to have a happy ending. And who is to say the ending isn't somewhat happy? Everyone is safe, Harry is a (dead) hero, and his friends will all probably live lives of prospertity. Ron and Hermione will name their first child Harry. He will always live on. But, in my humble, probably dark opinion, Harry Potter should die. There, I've said it. And no, I was not struck by lighning or swallowed up into the floor.

just some random story blah blah blah

Well, I really have nothing to blog about today, so I am just going to pick some random story out of my head and grace you all with it. Lets see, here. No, not that one, or that one... ahh, I think I may have found one!
My senior year in highschool we hosted a foreign exchange student. What was really supposed to happen, was I was supposed to GO be a foreign exchange student. I wanted to live in France for a year. But, my middle sister was supposed to be getting married (never happened)and, because of the money and time her wedding (would have) involved, I didn't get to go. Instead, my Mom and Dad asked me if I wanted to have one, instead.
Well, why not? I thought. Could be interesting. Of course, this meant I'd have to share my room with someone I don't know, but, hey. There's always the couch, right?
So we sign up, and go through the "interview" process. They take our picture. A few weeks later, we get a packet that has a picture, and biography of the person who will become part of the family for a year. Ipek, from Turkey. Turkey, you say? A Muslim country? Yep. Turkey. But this was 1988, so we didn't really think much about the religion or politic thing when she was assigned to us.
One summer evening, we all drove to San Francisco, to pick up our new family member. It was strange. She got off the airplane, and I recognized her immediately, despite the grainy, crappy photo we'd been staring at for weeks. We got along immediately, and set about becoming sisters. Her clothes all matched mine, it seems. We would skip school periodically (hey, it was my Sr. year). Especially Monday's. I still hate Mondays. She taught me some Turkish, I taught her some English. (Though she had been speaking it for years.) I can still say "Ipek is not at home", "I love you", and "Merry Christmas" in Turkish.
The year flew by. We never argued, (except on April fools day, just to mess with my Mom.). The other foreign exchange students, six in all, came over to our house on a regular basis. We were the UN that year. Italy, Spain, Germany, Portugal, Dominican Republic, and of course, Turkey. We even "borrowed" a few exchange students from different areas of California, getting another Turk, and a Finnish girl. That week, Four of us slept in my room, all crowded into a queen sized water bed. I'll never forget the day we all sat at the dinner table, and Heico, from Germany, oh so nonchalant like asks "So, when did everybody lose their virginity?" Yeah, my Dad was real interested in hearing that answer! No one answered, of course. . .
The year came to a close, and Ipek had to go home, and I had to go to bootcamp. We both graduated, had a few, end of the year parties, then it was time to say goodbye. That was a rough day. She became my sister in so many ways that year. We were very lucky to have been paired together. (They'd almost saddled me with Marianna, from Italy, who was a whining prima-donna type. I'd have killed her inside a week.)But she went home. And I went to boot camp. We both grew up. We both married, then divorced. She is remarried, with two adorable children. I don't hear from her very often anymore, maybe once a year. Mom and Dad went to Turkey once, to visit. I plan on doing so as well. I learned a lot from Ipek, and all the others. And in the end, I am happy fate took control, and I stayed home. I doubt my year in France would have been as much fun as the year I had with Ipek.

Herman

When I was a kid, every year we would go to Lake Almanor for a week. I know I have posted about Lake Almanor before, the smell of it, I think. It was a second home to most of the family. My Grandparents would take their 5th wheel up in May, and stay until Sept.
Rare was the years we didn't find a way to go. It was always something to look forward to. Mom would get us up at the ass crack of dawn to leave, it was about an eight hour drive. I'd fall asleep in the back seat, and usually wake up somewhere around Oroville, or Marysville. For lunch, we always stopped at a place called "Grand-view". I have no clue where that was, but they did have a nice view. The food wasn't that great, though.
The first place we always stopped was at the tiny store. We'd get the keys to our cabin, and me and my sisters would be beating each other to be the first ones out of the backseat of the car. That first breath of air, scented with Pine, and water, and usually dust. It was the best!
We knew our way around Lassen View Resort like the backs of our hand. Nothing would usually get me back into the car, I'd walk to the cabin we were going to have for the week. Usually 15 or 16, if I remember correctly. On my walks, the look-out for "Herman" would begin. Herman always came to me. Multiple Herman's came to me. Herman was, exactly, one of those white, fluffy feathery things that float off the trees, and through the air. Until some unsuspecting little kid catches it, and calls it Herman. I collected Herman's all week long, every summer. They lived in a drawer in the cabin. When we were leaving, I'd set all the Herman's free. Occasionally, one of the Herman's would follow me home. I was always happy to see him.
When I was 18 I joined the Navy. Summer rolled around, and I was in Yokosuka, Japan. That's a long way from Lake Almanor. It was the first summer in a million years I didn't go. One day, the mail came, and I got a letter from my Grandmother. It had in it, you guessed it! A little flat from the journey, but intact, a Herman. Poor guy had come a long way, but I cried when I got him. My tug boat co workers must have thought I was mental.
I haven't been back to Lake Almanor since 1995. Lassen View Resort is closed, for all I know Grand-view is gone. Or maybe it's still there, I'd probably never find it, I suck at directions. But, like all the best things in life, Herman has found his way to me. My little town has lots of trees, and now, I see Herman almost every day. I don't capture him and box him up like I used to, I just smile, and greet him quietly (lest my neighbors think I have an imaginary boyfriend). Wild Herman's, all around me. Life is good.

Let Down

I am usually a pretty good judge of character. I make aquaintences pretty easily in real life, have some really great friends. I like most of my co-workers.
Last night, I got to work with someone "new". This person has been a nurse for years, on a different floor. Usually works day shift. I have always thought he was a together nurse (I still do). He seemed like a nice guy.
News to me. He is a gigantic ASS! Really! Spent all night listening to him blather on about things, constantly talking over people, never letting them have an opinion. Heard more detail about his life than I cared to know, including the fact that he is cheating on the woman he's been married to for years. They are separated so that he could have his "space". Dropped innuendo's all night about his multiple "female friends". I think he was a lounge lizard in his previous life! He's a Drama King, to boot. Any story or anecdote that another person talked about, he had to top that story with a worse one of his own.
AND, the only time he'd really let someone else talk was when he was trying to get them to spill juicy details on other co-workers lives. People I have known, and worked with for years. He was dying to know the dirt. I don't play that game. I never will.
He isn't a bad nurse, but he is a shit of a person. I'm dissapointed. Must get my people radar in for a tune up I guess. . .

Wordless Wednesday

sneaky. . .

First, I boiled it, in a large pot of hot hot water. Then, I pulled it, limb from limb (from limb from limb. . ). When I was all done. I ate it's heart. Yesss, my preciousss...I guts it then I eats its heart. . .
Just call me the artichoke killer.
We used to get artichokes for dinner on occasion when we were kids. My Mom introduced me to the meaty juicyness of scraping your teeth down a leaf. She was sneaky, though. She never told us about the heart. So, after we were done, she would finish pulling out the leaves, getting the heart of everyone else's artichoke! Part of me is outraged. Part of me laughes because, hey, its smart!
I don't remember when I realized what was going on. I just know that the heart is my favorite part of an artichoke. Even all dressed up at the Ren Faire, I have gutted an eaten artichoke for the heart. (And they make HUUUUGE choke's at the ren faire.).
If I ever have children, I will introduce them to the joys of the artichoke, my favorite veggie. I will probably do what my Mom did, too, for awhile. Just because I can. But, eventually, I'd show them the gift of the heart.

I'm bored

And I hate sitting here, bored. I don't want to do any of my 'busy work'. Knitting, picture adjusting, or writing on the big hysterical romance bodice ripper thingy that Celtic Rose and I have been working on.
Bored, and restless at almost eleven pm. It sucks. This is why I work nights. Because I am usually awake late, and bored. Like tonight. Bored. I could go read more blogs, find more people I don't know and make an effort to befriend them. I could do that. I might do that. On the reverse side of that, to prevent some boredom, I have a suggestion for anyone I don't know who reads this post. Especially if you've never commented before. Comment on this one. Give me something to look at. Really. It's ok. I'm relativly harmless. I will even go read your blog, and comment, if you want. It will be entertaining, really it will. And if it's not? Well? we tried, right.
OK, well, still bored. Maybe a book is what will cure me. It usually does. Sigh.

ahh. . .snuggle snuggle snuggle

No, its not what your thinking (but yes, there is a THIRD date in the wings. Maybe he'll do more than inspect my tires?)
Get your minds out of the gutters. (mine needs to float by.)

I am talking about fresh sheets, right out of the dryer. Then right onto the bed.
I love fresh sheets. I change my sheets once a week. If they didn't make a lot of laundry, I'd probably do it every day.
Sheets are something I am very particular about. They play those commercials and documentaries about dust mites and all the other creatures of the night, and yeah, that figures into it. But what it really, probably stems from, is that when I was a kid, I don't remember EVER changing my sheets.
Now, don't freak. I am sure my sheets were changed, whether it was by me, or my Mom. Because she is anal about clean. I just don't remember it. And, our sheets lived in a closet full of other sheets and blankets. As a kid, fresh sheets were never just out of the dryer.
Something about sinking into that comfortable bed, with clean, good smelling sheets. I use the laundry detergent that smells like lavender on my sheets. Its not overpowering, just a tease of a smell. It makes me happy.
Last night was sheet night. And it was lovely. I'm already looking foward to next week, though. . . snuggle snuggle snuggle

who knew?

You Are Catwoman

"Life's a bitch. Now so am I."

What Superheroine Are You?

You Are Lightning

Beautiful yet dangerous People will stop and watch you when you appear Even though you're capable of random violence You are best known for: your power Your dominant state: performing

What Type of Weather Are You?

Dinner and a movie

For those of you keeping score. Went out with the nice, shy man again yesterday. We saw a movie (Live Free, or Die Hard. It was actually really good. It shows a lot of places in Washington DC I went to.)
I met him at the movie theater, and I had planned on at least buying the movie tickets. So I was early, and I was going to go up to the window, and get them, so that when he got there we could just go right in. As I approached, he walked right up to me, tickets in hand. So much for that! It was a nice date. His shyness was less.
Its Sunday, and I get to not work today! I am off! One of the rare Sunday's I'm home! I don't know yet what I am going to do with this gift of a day. Maybe nothing. But its Sunday, and I am free! Hope you all are having a nice weekend.