Swampy, the last home game of the regular season is March 17th.
Grandbaby is doing much better. She has started to perk up a bit and her fever is down some, although she is still puffy. Keep Ophelia pedaling that vibe machine, Scarie! And thanks to all of you for your prayers and good thoughts - it means a lot to my friend and to me. Ya’ll are a great group - that’s why I hang out here!
I was supposed to get a bottle of body wash to use for a week for a survey. I got the box - empty. “Damaged in Transit” In the postal services own “Priority Mail” box. So the company spent $5.15 to mail me an empty box. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I guess some postal employee is happily lathering up with my body wash.
Taxi, even if you are feeling good now, take it easy for a couple of days and let that stuff get completely out of your system. Ice cream is good.
I need to go spend some time in the bedroom with the howling yowler, aka Black Magic. Back later!
Seconding the ‘take it easy anyway’ instructions Taxi. But good that it went that smooth. When I had my knee done 4 years ago, it was like that - Doc Z said, “ok, I’ll get this started right now, and then…” Next thing I knew, I was watching my wife next to me eating a chocolate donut. I started to ask for a bite, but my throat was so dry all that came out was “gack I hab sub…?”
Go Bobbio! You look trés spiffed out in your firefighting duds. And you really do look like Cheech. Which is totally a good thing, because you can truthfully say, “Jake’s not here, man.”
Yay for taxi! I wish you a speedy convalescence.
Phones don’t ring anymore? Color me confused.
I guess I should tell you all … I’ve officially declared this romantic endeavor overwith. By way of explanation, I’ll paste in here the letter I wrote out to her (though I’m not going to give it to her).
Dear Cute Girl:
This is to advise you that I'm done. I'm done making efforts to spend time with you. I'm done arranging to run into you in person so I can actually get responses out of you. I'm done sending you emails to which you don't respond, unless I give you cookies. I'm done waiting for you, period. The only reason I've continued to believe your little story about a long distance relationship is because you emphasized it was up in the air. That way, even if it weren't true, the implication is that there was some sort of potential between you and I. Well, FUCK YOU. Fuck you for lying to me. You have since made it clear that there is no such potential. You have made it abundantly, sterlingly clear that you don't care at all whether I live or die, much less whether or not you ever see me again.
Why do I feel justified making this claim? Let me go over the one damning piece of evidence. The smoking gun, as it were. Sunday afternoon, as I dove once more into the bog of physics problems in which I perpetually reside, I phrased the situation to myself thusly: "If I'm going to compete with this long-distance guy, real or not, I need to demonstrate how good a boyfriend I can be." So I resolved to make a striking demonstration of the degree of thoughtfulness, creativity, and humor I can put into a relationship. After I was done working for the night, I set about making a coupon.
At 1:30 Monday morning, I painstakingly crafted a certificate entitling you, the bearer, to one free lunch with me at a restaurant I knew you would like. Like any good candidate boyfriend, I remembered your statement about liking Mexican food, and I remembered our much earlier conversation about the burrito place in question. I combined this with humorous fine print and an elegant means of presentation: I taped it to the door of your building. This, I was sure, would get your attention. Later that day I verified that it had, in fact, been removed from the door. So I know you got it. I know this because, once again demonstrating my attention to detail, I placed it on the door a mere 6 hours before I knew you were to pass through it.
Monday passed with no communication from you. Likewise Tuesday. Today I made one final effort: I arranged to cross paths with you this afternoon. Overlooking the fact that you were on the phone, a "hi" was exchanged and no mention was made of your free lunch. Between my placement of the coupon and now, Wednesday afternoon, there has been no communication from you. Not a phone call, not an email, not an instant message, not even a bloody facebook poke. Nada. Zero. Zip. Zilch. NOTHING. Which, as of right now, is what you are to me.
You see, this is it, chica. You've run out of time. Maybe you didn't read the fine print on that piece of paper, where it said "LIMITED TIME OFFER." I'm not a toy on a shelf to be stored until you decide to play with me. I had hoped we could at least be friends, but when you don't respond to something like that extraordinary gesture I really have to wonder. Have a nice life.
Resentfully,
Your former suitor.
Sorry to hear that, Spats, I hope next try goes better.
Rosie, I’m absolutely amazed: bridesmaids’ dresses that don’t look like shit! Rewearable! In a color that looks good on pretty much anybody and was not borrowed from a box of faded rock candy! Very. Impressive.
The Cinderfella is very cute, but you knew that.
Was off work yesterday, but at work today and tomorrow, which feels weird. I’m not used to having one day off just in the middle of the week. Quite a lot of people at the office have taken today and tomorrow for vacation anyway, so we’re sleepier than usual. Everybody is very quiet and concentrated-looking, there’s periods when you can’t hear anybody on the phone and I’d bet the limit on my Visa against an empty soda can that we’ll all shoot up from our chairs simultaneously the second Windoze strikes 17:45.
Mom came back on Monday from spending last week with her parents, armed with Plans. She had already signed up to spend these four days in Budapest before she left for Barcelona (I made her take my camera, she took notes on how to use it) and of course she’s left this morning. When she comes back she’ll be looking at contractors to redo her second bathroom; right now the shower can’t be used and unclogging the washbasin is very difficult; both need to be solved before that bathroom can be set as “Gramps-only” but, in for a penny in for a pound, she’s redoing the whole room. Both Lilbro and myself have already offered her zero-interest loans to help pay for it, but she also intends to extract half of it from her parents (who have quite a chunk in the bank and over 10K stuck in a drawer because they don’t want IRS to catch wind of it). Auntie’s reaction was along the lines of “oh, ok, let’s sell their flat in Barcelona then and they can buy an apartment here at the beach where I live” but Mom informed her that no way joséjuanfermíndelasmercedes, that flat isn’t being sold until the grampsters either die or go live in an old folks’ house. Three main reasons for this: having “their” house feels good to the oldsters; Gramps’ quarterly treatments are being done in a hospital that’s 10 minutes away (half an hour at his walking speed) but if we transferred them ‘over here’ it wouldn’t be where Mom lives, it would have to be in another hospital 2h away; and with the excuse of the house being empty, if any of “us kids” want to or have to go to Barcelona, we can stay there, make sure nothing is more broken than it was and skip on a hotel
She’s armed and ready for battle, which is certainly a lot better than when she called me at the verge of a nervous breakdown. Specially since the battle is not against me.
Oh, and Lilbro is going to London, also until Sunday. With a girl he’s been courting for a couple years but who has as much intent to get married as me of starting an elephant farm. And two other friends. And Mom says she doesn’t understand this girl, but I tell her I do and she says “oh” and doesn’t ask for an explanation. And I still don’t have any work to do, so I guess I’ll go see if I can whack out 3000 words or so for this NaNoWriMo thing and hopefully they’ll come out more coherent than this post…
Sorry that didn’t work out, Spats. Sounds like it’s for the best if you move on. Hope the next cute girl works out better.
Nava’s post reminded me: they really did dress up nicely at the wedding, rosie. Even the wedding dress looked like it could be worn more than once. Very cool.
Good on your mom for finding a good solution for your grandparents, Nava. Keeping their apartment sounds very sensible.
WOOF! WOOF! <pantpantpant> Lookin’ good there Bobbio! Y’all should do a Firefighters calendar. You could be July, laying out by a pool in a speedo wearing your hat.
Spats sorry it didn’t work out. Keep on lookin’ though. One never knows where one might find romance.
nava good for your mom to have a plan of attack. Hope it goes well for her.
taxi yay on the recovery! You still need to take it easy. Don’t forget to eat your ice cream, young lady. It’s good for you.
ere, um, she lives in an apartment building? where a superintendant might see something somewhere it doesn’t belong and remove it and dispose of in order to keep his building clean? or in a dorm where an RA might do the same thing? I’m not saying you should get all caught up in her again, this is obviously a person who thinks little, if anything, of anyone other than herself and you can do better. But honestly, she may not have gotten the coupon.
What the hell is an X11 Update 2006 (for a MacIntosh), and why does it need to be 51.0 MB?
And why do I need another update for my iTunes player? I just installed the new version of it a week ago.
Yes, Thursday is automatic update day for me. How are all y’all doing?
Bah! My neighbour’s boyfriend is a complete twunt. I just thought you’d all like to know that. Can someone please explain to me why he has to be park his over-sized untaxed car right across the gates to our drive so we can’t get our car in or out? Does he think it’s funny? Do we look amused?
Luckily 'im indoors decided to sort it out and went round there just before midnight last night and got the bloke out of bed to move the car. Didn’t need to have it moved just then, but he said it was quite obvious we’d interrupted something rather intimate going on next door and that might just make the barmpot think twice about where he parks in future.
Otherwise, I’m buying a wheelclamp. Are you lot having a better day than me?
Yes, Mom, I’m taking it easy. I don’t want to; I’m not good at sitting around doing nothing. But now I’m sore so I can’t really do the laundry and clean the kitchen like I want to. Oh well. Maybe the chores will get done tomorrow.
I’m really glad I took the rest of the week off. I’m ok if I sit or lie still, but moving around hurts. I’m just not up for going to work.
Anyway, there’s good advice above from everyone else, spats. It’s much better to find someone who’s as excited about seeing you as you are about seeing her than to waste time trying to get someone interested. I’ve been on both sides of a lop-sided interest, and neither way is fun. (Being more interested in him than he is in me or vice versa.) When both people are into it, it’s just so good. And worth waiting for. If both people aren’t in to it, it’s better to just move on and not lose a lot of sleep over someone who’s not losing sleep over you.
Slow-Cooker Barbacoa
2-3 lb chuck roast or bottom round roast, fat trimmed
2 med onions, chopped
6 cloves garlic, minced/crushed
1 bell pepper, coarsely chopped
1/2 of a fresh lime, juiced
Olive oil
Cumin
Mexican oregano
Ancho chile pepper, freshly ground and/or other peppers (jalepeno, New Mexico, etc.) to taste
Salt
Sear the roast.
Saute the peppers and onions until carmelized. Add the garlic at the end just for a few seconds.
Transfer the roast and veggies into a slow cooker or Dutch oven.
Add seasonings.
Cook on low for 8 hours or high for 5 (slow cooker) or for about 4 hours at 300 (degrees F) in a Dutch oven.
Meat should be falling apart, and most of the liquid should be absorbed.
dear bear, don’t hate me for this…but in my secret heart of hearts…sigh…I want to be her. :o
CRADLE ROBBER??? Hmmmm, Mr. Anachi turns 50 at the end of March…and I know I’m older than mom…Oooooohhhhh…you meant that as a compliment!!
bobbio, how YOU dooin??? (What is it about a man in uniform???)
taxi, recipe looks good. I don’t have a slow cooker, though. Can you oven roast it?
scarie, twunt? I don’t know what it means but I LOVE it!
rifty, true love shouldn’t be such hard work. I’m just sayin…
Last night I made a chicken boob stir fry. I just tossed the boobs around with some frozen veggies and stir fry sauch and some garlic. But the nummers part was the rice I made. I’ve found a gourmet rice that is just over the top. It’s aromatic and comes out nice and fluffy and good enough to eat plain.
Favourite expression of a Scottish friend - every morning I get a daily report about the levels of twuntage in her office. Apparently today they’re extremely high but she doesn’t care 'cos she’s off to Singapore tomorrow on business. Lucky scrote.
Man. I did not want to get up this morning. This is partly my fault, however. I had a craving for a bowl of cereal in the late evening last night approximately an hour before going to bed. This was a mistake which my brain prevented me from realizing beforehand by bombarding me with the desire to pour myself a bowl of Raisin Bran. This of course caused me to have difficulty getting to sleep, something I failed to do 'til about 1:30am. Normally I could still get by well enough on the 5 hours of sleep that remained, but Dutchess, the mouthy one, spent approximately twenty minutes that night looking for someone to give her pettings. She does this by wandering around and mewling. Repeatedly. I keep a spray bottle by the bed for events like this, and while she does scoot away from it, the solution is only temporary and she’s back at it in short order. So why don’t I just close the bedroom door? Because this acts as a direct command for Tilly, our youngest, to pick at the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. It doesn’t matter what side of the door she’s on, either, or whether or not she actually wants to be on the other side. A closed door is simply an affront to her dignity.
sigh So, I woke up groggy and wishing it was this morning that we were supposed to set the clocks back. But at least I got up, did my thing and left for work, where I now sit, thankful that the weekend is close at hand. It hasn’t been a quiet day at work so far, either. I don’t know what they’re doing in my building, but apparently it requires someone to be up on the warehouse mezzanine level stomping around and banging on the floor. I probably wouldn’t care if my office wasn’t adjacent to and below the part of the mezzanine where the banging is going on. Fortunately it’s sporadic and not excessively loud so I’ll live.
As I walked out just a few minutes ago to head to the bathroom, on my way back our receptionist told me to help myself to a cookie in the break room, so I took a look. In a nice tin container were her own home made peanut butter Halloween cookies. They were convincingly shaped like a (rather flat) finger – or a thumb – complete with a red-coloured almond for a fingernail and wrinkle lines at the joints. There was a note in the lid of the tin, which was propped upright, that read, “Sorry for the delay. I’m getting old and those witches are getting harder to catch.” She rocks. And if I do say so, she makes a mean peanut butter cookie.
Sean – don’t feel bad. Patch Thursday isn’t uncommon. My system reminded me me of updates that are ready for me to download. I don’t want to download them though because once I do Windows will spend every ten minutes for the rest of the day popping up a friendly notification balloon reminding me that the updates are now ready to be installed. It’s severely irritating – it’s like Chinese water torture for the eyes.
(What is it about a man in uniform???)
