Well, I got spotful, yesterday. Most you have to wear clothes you don’t love, and try not to spatter. It evaporates after a little bit, so it isn’t hanging around waiting to jump around and make spots on your beautiful clothes.
'What, the curtains?"
Stealing the idea from an old Calvin and Hobbes strip, I did this with VunderKind:
“Dad, why are the old movies and TV shows black and white?”
“Well, before 1965, the entire world was in black and white.”
I also told him that we didn’t have electricity as kids, so we had to watch TV by candlelight.
shibb, bwahahahahahahahahahaha! That was funny!
I didn’t have either skettie or potato pancakes for dinner last night. Mr. Anachi wanted his burgers so I just smashed some taters to go with em. Maybe I can talk him into the sketti tonight since it’s only frickin’ 46 degreees!!! outside. And rainy to boot. Sketti would be a good cold weather meal.
My kids have never forgiven me for telling them that the brown cows they saw in pastures from the car were the ones that chocolate milk came from.
Tupug (Le Cold)
There is a certain funeral home here in town that sets up a very nice manger scene every year, complete with live donkeys, sheep, and other barnyard fare, along with very realistic statuary for the human representatives. When I was young and impressionable (other word for naive or just stupid), my dear mom told me that the humans were bodies from the funeral home that had been preserved and dipped in wax so they would maintain their shape. God I was ignorant then.
Just polished off decent pot roast and yummy garlic mashed taters for lunch that were leftovers from Sunday, a good cold weather kind of meal. It is still too freaking cold around here for my tastes, but at least there are no flurries. I hate flurries.
Unfortunatel taters, my family was not very gifted or creative in the culinary arts, so no goose, and the only time I had bratwurst with kraut growing up was at ballgames, with plenty of spicy mustard.
It’s not that small! Several Chinese resturant, in various styles (which I will not even attempt to spell), plus the assorted Mexican, vegetarian only, Italian (but not an Olive Garden{thank the Gods}), New York pizza, Chicago pizza, California cusine pizza, and, of course, seafood resturants. And the best bagels west of New York–literally. These are bagels like you actually get in New York, firm and chewy without being tough, tasty plain and wonderful with cream cheese. The place is called Los Bagels, and it’s owned by the only Mexican Jew I know–they celebrate both the Day of the Dead and Passover, etc with special bagels or pastries. I really miss that place.
I don’t think a 50 student school still operates in Humboldt County, although Orick or tha tlittle town east of Carlotta may have one. I’ll have you know that there are 5 large high schools and 4 smaller ones in the area (taking in Del Norte County and Hoopa) with healthy sports rivalries between them. Not to mention two Indian casinos, two local breweries, at least two professional repertory theatres and several community ones, local artists working in numerous mediums, cable TV and high-speed internet access. And a Target! Yes sirree, everything’s up to date in Humboldt County.
Of course, sometimes the airport shuts down because it’s too foggy for planes to land, and if there’s a rockfall on highway 101, there’s no real way out of the county. The smell from the pulp mills is pretty awful, but that’s not much of a problem anymore because most of them have shut down, along with the other living wage jobs. Crystal meth has pushed out a lot of the pot farmers and forced the cops to pay more attention to drug crime, except it’s easier to arrest potheads that meth-heads so everyone with a private patch is too nervous to sell so instead of local good stuff you end up with imported sh*t (or so I’m told, not that I would know myself, you know). And it’s located in a State that kicked out the legetimately elected governor and actually elected Arnold in his place, but everywhere has it’s ups and downs.
Everyone should get a copy of the Feb. 14 & 21 New Yorker and read the fabulous article about redwoods. Redwoods and the ocean–the real reason Humboldt County is so great.
And I would wear thigh high boots if I were to rescue roosters. I’m not silly, you know.
Yeah, but would they be fashionable? Spiked heels? How can you make a statement on the news about rescuing chickens if you’re not fashionably attired?
Thanks for the info on Humboldt State. I cruised their website. It looks like the kind of place my daughter would love, actually. However, a mighty big gulp came from me when I looked at the tuition costs for out-of-state student. I know, I know, college isn’t cheap. Wherever she attends, she’s going to have to get student loans, grants, scholarships, work study, etc to help out.
Actually, if she attended UW, she could still live at home. I only live 35 miles from there. However, their program doesn’t look as good as some others I’ve seen.
She’s only a freshman this year. At the end of next year we’ll have to seriously start looking at where she wants to go and timelines for getting the appropriate stuff in. It’s hard to believe I’m even talking about college for her; it seems just yesterday that I brought home a tiny, preemie baby. Where does the time go?
Ah, it’s been so nice and quiet in my office today. No traffic, no office mates. I can actually get some work done (between meetings anyway).
Speaking of work, I guess I better do some more.
Waders?
“Errant Fisherwoman releases roosters”
Stillettos?
“Dominitrix practices on barnyard fowl”
I was thinking of using another word for rooster, but I’ll leave that to Swampy. I mean, it would like trying to be nice when FCM was around.
Lissla, I like the ongoing book reports. I didn’t realize she had so many out, either, until I checked on Amazon.
I put A Monstrous Regiment of Women on hold at the library. Until it gets here I’m reading Flannery O’Connor short stories and The Seven Storey Mountain. I’m trying to figure out how to co-opt a dead monk as one of my husbands. This is sort of icky.
If I stopped reading, I’d get so much more lazing around done. It’s more efficient to laze around doing nothing than to laze around reading books- reading makes it look too much like you’re getting something accomplished.
Eating leftover curry again tonight. Mr. Lissar will be working 4 to 12 until Monday, so I’m eating lunch with him, and dinner on my own. That means very little cooking, and lots of leftover whatever I have in tupperware.
Why, yes, I most certainly did. 
However, (this may be TMI-y) swampy, kindly get out of my head. Please. For some unknown reason, in the middle of, well the activities I flew to NC to enjoy, my brain suddenly decided I needed to figure out where you live. Interior monologue: Hmm… it’s not Atlanta 'cause a couple weeks ago he mentioned a 3-hour drive to get there. But it’s somewhere in Georgia. Hmm… wait a minute! I’m in the middle of a very enjoyable activity. Why the heck am I thinking about dopers?? </interior monologue> So please, all dopers, in the future, do not disturb me while I am, um, otherwise occupied.
Anyway, it’s so nice to go south in the spring. It was 70-something on Monday. And then I came back to 20-degree weather with wind-driven snow. I’m thinking that moving down there and being a house-non-wife might not be such a bad thing. Well, at least until it’s 95 and humid. And then I’d come back to NY.
I made spinach-stuffed shells one night and creamy tomato soup (see last week’s MMP for the recipe) for lunch and we grilled shish kababs one night. And my special Bailey’s Mousse, although it didn’t quite fluff up right. But it still tasted *really *good. And I did some gardening stuff and cleaned parts of the new house. I was all non-wifely this weekend. That’s going to be my new title: non-wife. People keep asking when we’re going to get married. But why would I want to do that?? I like being a non-wife. It’s the perfect balance of independence and having someone to care for/about without being tied down.
Relatedly, why can’t guys (at least many of the ones I’ve met) see a mess? When I got to TaxiDriver’s house on Friday night (albeit with only 24 hours warning), it was a complete disaster. He hadn’t moved anything that he didn’t actually use since he moved in. And anything that he bought since moving in, he’d opened and just thrown the packing material - boxes, plastic wrap, etc. - on the floor! We couldn’t even walk through the living room without climbing over stuff. I just don’t get it. Please, someone explain how an otherwise intelligent, caring, wonderful guy can be completely oblivious to a mess of those proportions!
You mean boy chicken? Why wouldn’t you wanna say boy chicken? 
Taxi- How long had the poor man been moved in? I think there is at least a 6 month grace period if he is flying solo. Cleaning up packing materials falls very low on the list of things to be taken care of, somewhere after cleaning the toilets, but they are close. Plus, I’m sure he had more pressing issues on his mind with your impending visit.
Where were you when I was single?
Oddly enough, before Missus and I got married, we both kept relatively clean houses, (well, I had an apartment,but you know what I mean), but when we moved in together, instant clutter. I know that doesn’t really relate, but I wanted to throw that into the mix. Relevant to your question, however, Missus often askes why I can’t see the same level of dirt that she does, forgetting that her vision is about 20/15, and mine is about 20/40 with my contacts in. On the third hand, your BF shoulda picked up after himself. That’s just pathetic.
Talk about a non-linear post. I think I hurt myself.
Shibb, Bwahahahahah!
Al did like he always does, kissing his wife, crawling into bed and falling to sleep.
All of a sudden, he wakes up with an elderly man dressed in a cowl standing in front of his bed.
“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?..
and who are you?” he asked.
“This is not your bedroom,” the man replied, “I am St. Peter, and you are in heaven.”
“WHAT!?? Are you saying I’m dead? I don’t want to die…I’m too young.” said AL. “If I’m dead, I want you to send me back immediately.” “It’s not that easy”, said St.Peter, “you can only return as a dog or a hen. You can choose on your own…”
Harry thought about it for a while, and figured out that being a dog is too tiring, but a hen probably has a nice and relaxed life. Running around with a rooster can’t be that bad.
“I want to return as a hen.” AL replied. And in the next second, he f ound himself in a chicken run, really nicely feathered. But man, now “he” felt like the rear end was gonna
blow…then along came the rooster.
“Hey, you must be the new hen on the farm.” he said. “How does it feel?”
“Well, it’s OK I guess, but it feels like my rear end is blowing up.”
“Oh that!” said the rooster. “That’s only the ovulation going on. Have you never laid an egg before??”
“No, how do I do that?” AL asked.
“Cluck twice, and then you push all you can.”
AL clucked twice, and pushed more than he was good for, and then ‘Plop’ and an egg was on the ground.
“Wow” AL said “that felt really good!” So he clucked again and squeezed. And you better believe that there was yet another egg on the ground. The third time he clucked, he heard his wife shout:
" AL , for Gods sake wake up, you’re shitting all over the bed!"
Man, I just can’t get warm today! I have goose bumps, noticable goose bumps all over the place. It’s not cold out either. Brrrrrr.
My kids same to have the same sort of vision as TaxiDriver. Only in our case, it’s the Costco boxes that are left everywhere. It drives me insane! How does one NOT see that big box in the middle of the kitchen floor?!
Say…where has **Ex ** been? He usually has something to say; even if it’s to grumble about the MMP degenerating to a cooking and clothing discussion.
I don’t know what I’m fixing for dinner tonight. I have to fix something, I guess, but nothing is coming to mind. I did not take meat out of the freezer either. I do NOT want to go anywhere after work tonight. The past two nights have been busy, late nights and all I want to do is go home and sit on my tuckus, and relax.
Can’t do pizza either, because we did that Sunday when I steam cleaned the carpets. I’m sure I’ll think of something.
Theodore Striker, he moved in back in October. I can understand that everything might not be taken care of, but the fact that nothing was cleaned/organized was what made me go :rolleyes: Besides, it only took us a few hours to get the downstairs completely cleaned. Between Oct. and now he couldn’t spare a few hours?? I wasn’t really upset though. More perplexed. That’s all.
Bumba, ironically, TaxiDriver’s vision is perfect - despite the fact that everyone else in his family has terrible vision, and I’m the one with thick glasses.
FCM, I waved as I flew over Maryland. But the flight attendants wouldn’t let me throw the box of chocolates out the door to you. It probably wouldn’t have made it to you anyway though; the wind was pretty strong yesterday and would have pulled the little parachute very far from its intended target. Maybe next time!
Lissla, I liked the pictures. For some reason, I always thought you were older than you look in the picture.
I’m either flattered or extremely oogied right now. This is just one of those things that could go either way. I mean, it’s always nice to be thought about. However, sometimes it is best to put all of one’s concentration on matters at hand. Though it woulda been funny if, just as things were reaching the critical point, you had screamed out “LEESBURG! THAT’S IT! LEESBURG!” <snerk>
I think I might be in love with your mom. That is priceless!
BWAHAHAHAHA! OK, I’m SO glad I didn’t do that. Poor TaxiDriver has to put up with enough from me without THAT!
Well, it’s the thought that counts anyway, right? The wind was pretty wicked yesterday - sounded really eerie blowing thru the treetops.
Heck Kalley, Arcata sounds about a million bazillion times better than where I am right now. We just got a Starbucks this year (though whether that’s an improvement is up for debate). We’ve one or two galleries selling the same fifteen awful paintings they were three years ago and our only museum’s biggest attraction is a stuffed steer. Which reminds me of the time our airport *wasn’t * shut down by a bunch of sheep loose on the landing strip because no planes were gonna land anyway. I do believe I’m liking Arcata, but do they like me? Hmmm…
My dad was awful about fooling us kids in little ways. The one that backfired a bit was when I was about three and he told me that the way to make flies go away was to sneak up really close and then yell. This was fun to watch until I was doing it at other people’s homes and the whole neighborhood felt so sorry for my parents, since their daughter was obviously completely insane, going around yelling at nothing. There’s still one woman who’s a bit nervous around me and flinches if I make any sudden movements.
It’s ninety degrees outside! How can any of you be cold? Hot food sounds icky, somebody make me a fruit salad-- no melon! Oh, and boys can’t see mess for the same reason kids can’t see they’ve emptied the toilet paper roll.
You know what I love? When my daughter leaves two see-through squares of paper on the cardboard tube, because that way, she didn’t EMPTY the roll, and therefore she doesn’t have to change it.
Makes me want to smack her right upside the head.