Where the Hell Have you Been?!

It's been 25 days since my last post. What have I been doing? READING, that's what. Well, also working and trying to entertain my 2-year-old and my 39-year-old, but that's not near as exciting...

What have I been reading?, you might ask. Well, here's the answer, in no particular order:

French Women Don't Get Fat by Mireille Guiliano
I had no idea this book was controversial. I read it and thought, "hey, she's got some great points", then loaned it to a friend that promptly said, "hey, she's an annoying bitch who hates Americans". Readers fall into one of two camps on this book: Love or Hate. Don't believe me? Check out the Amazon reviews. Read the book for yourself and decide which camp you fall into. I liked it for the awareness it gave me that Americans do not think/feel about food the way most of the rest of the world does. The whole concept of "fast food" is a horrendous affront to most of the civilized world, who believe that if you are going to bother to eat, it should be an event to be enjoyed and savored, not gobbled down in a few minutes while driving somewhere in your car.

The overfed head : what if everything you know about weight loss is wrong? by Rob Stevens
This is a whopping 114-page book that's changed my life as well as a good friend of mine's (surprisingly, the same one that hated "French Women"). It's a lot of common sense that, when put together with some common strategies for eating, creates a powerful theme that hits you over the head with its obviousness. He outlines a study done on skinny people (not fat people like most weight studies) that tried to determine why the skinny folks stay skinny. They found some common sense things: EAT WHEN YOU ARE HUNGRY. WHEN YOU ARE FULL...STOP. Sounds simple and easy, huh? Then why do most of us not do this? Stevens explores the answer to this, as well as some strategies for sticking with these seemingly easy concepts. If you have any issue with your weight at all, you can't afford NOT to read this book. I thought that this book, when read almost immediately after "French Women" gave an good idea of why America is so obese.

Blink: The Power of Thinking without Thinking by Malcolm Gladwell
This is the same author that wrote "Turning Point - How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference", if you're keeping score. These are both very good books that offer information that tends to pop up in your everyday life and make you go "Hmmm.....". Blink is compilation of several different points that are extremely interesting and engaging to read. However, I didn't seem to find a "point" to the entire book. But you know what? I didn't care. Read both if you can. Get the audios...they are even better.

The Closers (audiotape) by Michael Connelly
I'm actually still listening to this one. It's wonderful! If you like good mysteries, then you need to start reading Michael Connelly. This book is from his series with detective Harry Bosch, who's more into solving crimes than Bill Gates is into software. I never, ever know whodunit until the very end. Connelly is that good. This one did not disappoint and makes the drive to/from work something I look forward to.

Ender's Game by Orson Card
This is a classic sci-fi story that I recently discovered. What a wonderful read! I can see how this book has served as groundwork for other sci-fi stories, such as "The Matrix". It's as valid a story today as it was back in 1994, when it was written. Even if you don't like sci-fi, you will dig this story. I just read that they are working on a screenplay for this book, so even if you don't read it, stay tuned for the movie!

More coming soon...I've got several books in process now.

Kansas is Not Colorado

We recently got back from a wonderful trip to Colorado...Rocky Mountain National Park to be exact. We camped and hiked and saw lots of beautiful scenery. Goofy Junior, now a couple months past his 2 year birthday, loved it.

So, when we got back to nice-but-not-quite-Colorado Kansas, I decided that my boy and I would hike. We live close to a decent-sized park, with some real (dirt not paved) trails. I mentioned it to him and his little face lit up with excitement. I pictured this becoming our Saturday morning tradition. Get up early, get the hiking shoes on, apply sunscreen, grab some water and some trail snacks (raisins, chocolate chips, etc.) and hit the trails. I even pictured a time when Goofy Junior #2 would come along and he would happily ride along in the Baby Bjorn, while Goofy Junior #1 blazed the trail ahead of us. What a happy, family picture that was.

Okay, now back to reality....

We got to the park around 9:30am. This alone was an achievement! We talked to the visitor center and found a not-too-rocky, not-too-hilly trail. We navigated to the trail, put our hiking shoes on, and started our hike. The hike started on paved trail, which was hot, but not hard. We cut across a field and found the marker for the "Habitat Trail". The entry was a barely discernable 2-foot-wide dirt path. This is so great!, I remember thinking. I want Junior to have a woodsy experience, not a paved trail experience. Note to Self: Be careful what you wish for.

The first thing we noticed was the spider webs across the trail. We were the trail blazers on this fine morning. I took the opportunity to teach Junior how to use a stick to wave ahead of you to break any spider webs that might breach the path. Of course, he being only about 35" tall, he was under most of the webs, while Mommy got the fun of hitting most of them, complete with spiders attached to some. What fun!

The trail was perfect, skill-wise. Not too rocky, not too hilly. It was a bit skinny, but that was okay. The shade of the trees above was nice and got us out of the sun. Enough that I started wondering why we had applied sunscreen.

We broke out of the woods into a field. Butterflies were abundant here. Junior was mesmerized. The trail was a bit overgrown with foliage, but we forged ahead. Then I noticed a familiar sensation on my leg...Stinging Nettle! Uh-oh! If you haven't experienced Stinging Nettle before, consider yourself lucky. It's a plant that contains an oil which, when applied to human skin, immediately breaks the skin into many tiny welts...and burns like acid. I'm not exaggerating.

My first thought was, "Uh-oh...I hope Goofy Junior doesn't brush up against this". Right about that time, he reached down to scratch his leg, walked a few steps, then cried out and sat down, holding his leg. Shit.

The only thing I had was our water bottle, so I dowsed his leg with water. Surprisingly, this seemed to help! He got back up and we continued hiking. Rub some dirt on it, boy! We went through more woods, then another clearing. Then Junior refused to go back in the woods. He saw the street. "But it's not hot in the woods", I reasoned with the toddler (silly me!). He was having none of it. We hiked up the blacktop to our awaiting car.

We celebrated by parking ourselves under a tree as we gulped the remainder of our water and devoured our remaining raisins and (melted) chocolate chips.

The future of our "hiking tradition" remains to be seen, but I believe our outing this Saturday will be a paved trail. It's also supposed to be 105 degrees this Saturday. We will definitely see what us Goofys are made of....(I personally think "butter" would be the correct answer there).

40 Goofy Things

Wanna know more about ME? No? Well, read it anyway, dammit! This was originally meant to be "100 Goofy Things", but I just couldn't think of any more. So here ya go...

1. My favorite cold dessert is a custard concrete with raspberry and hot fudge.


2. My favorite hot dessert is homemade (by me) carmel apple pie with struesel topping.


3. My husband and I adopted our son from Russia.


4. I have two dogs, both female Siberian huskies.


5. The dog that was thin is now fat, the dog that was fat is now thin. Very strange.


6. This Russian/Siberian thing was an coincidence. Or was it?


7. I love wine tasting, especially red wine and especially with good friends
   and good food.


8. I make jewelry.


9. I build websites.


10. I play volleyball and softball.


11. I love to paint walls and furniture. Not on canvas.


12. I look younger than I am. This is a blessing and also a curse.


13. I can eat an entire angel food cake in one evening.


14. I take my coffee black.


15. I have never colored my hair.


16. I have never had a pedicure.


17. I am an only child.


18. I hated it.


19. My mother was an alcoholic for much of my childhood.


20. My parents got divorced when I was 12.


21. They should have done it about 4 years earlier.


22. My father remarried a wonderful woman that my mother constantly made fun of.


23. My mother died in January of 2000.


24. I typically change jobs every 2-3 years.


25. For one winter semester in college, I did not shave my legs.


26. I have done a beer bong. Okay, maybe several.


27. I cut my own hair through high school and college.


28. I read about one book a week.


29. I can still do a cartwheel.


30. I have gone without a shower for five days while backpacking.


31. I am much better at starting projects that finishing them.


32. I buy my dogs' flea juice on eBay.


33. I hate people with no sense of humor. They make me nervous.


34. I eat corn on the cob around in a circle, from right to left (not typewriter style).


35. I hate people that believe and/or enforce stereotypes. They make me angry.


36. I don't cry much, but Disney movies usually do the trick. The Lion King especially, for some reason.


37. I plan on writing a book someday.


38. I plan on owning a motorcycle someday.


39. My favorite band is Green Day.


40. My original name for this blog was to be "American Idiot" or "Idiot Girl",
    but alas these names were already taken.

The Fish Experiment (part 2 of 2)

I know you've all been waiting with baited breath for the rest of the fish story (get it? BAITed? Oh, whatever...).

So I get home with the scallops in hand. SEA scallops by the way, for those of you who needed to know. As far as I know, there are no free range scallops. So on to the cooking...

Since I realized that 1 pound of SEA scallops is more than 1 frying pan can handle, I decided to take the experiment a step further...TWO types of preparation techniques. TWO pans, folks... don't try this at home! Leave to us folks that have had our Hepititis A shot recently.

So, TWO frying pans. ONE pound of scallops. Still with me?

In Pan #1, I put olive oil, a pressed garlic clove, 1/4 stick of butter (REAL butter, mind you), some green onion, white wine vinegar and lemon juice. Don't ask me measurements...I was in an Emerill mood, yelling "BAM!" and "BOOM!" and lots of cursing (kid-friendly of course).

In Pan #2, I put olive oil, a pressed garlic clove, 1/4 stick of butter, some green onion, (my creativeness only goes so far!), some of the white wine that we had with dinner (Chardonnay for you keeping score at home). Now for the little critters...

Did I mention the flour? Yoda told me to dry the scallops a tad and roll them in flour, so I did that and lovingly put them in the pans. I forgot the "start with the handle" thing, so I backtracked and put them in the right order. They kept pushing and shoving to move to the front of the line, so I had to knock some scallop heads. I also wasn't sure where the inevitable "leftover ones that had to go in the middle" were in the pecking order. Cooking is so complicated!

They cooked. I flipped. I drank some wine. I flipped. They cooked. I drank more wine. Etc., etc., etc. When the heavens parted and Neptune, King of the Sea Scallops cried, "THE SCALLOPS ARE DONE NOW", I took them out of the pan and served them. We had some stir-fried veggies on the side, by the way.

Like any good experimentor, I separated the Pan #1 and #2 results (and gave Junior all the broken apart scallops pieces, since we were fairly sure he wouldn't like them) and taste-tested.

And the winner was.....drumroll, please...Pan #1.

From our post-dinner analysis with John Madden, we decided that since Pan #1 had less liquid (read: wine), the garlic stuck a bit more to the scallops and gave them a bolder flavor. The ones with the wine were just a little wimpy tasting.

And with the luck of a first time seafood-cooker (and guidance from my buddy Neptune), I cooked them for just the right amount of time. They were nice and juicy and not dry at all. Of course, we kept looking at their inside middles as if they would be pink if not cooked, like chicken. Unfortunatley, scallops have no "tell" like chicken does. If pressed, I would tell you that I cooked them for the amount of time it takes me to drink one glass of wine. That's about the right cooking time.

And thus ends the Scallop Saga. But feel free to keep giving me your seafood tips and side dish ideas. I'm listening...

The Fish Experiment 2 (part 1 of 2)

Some friends and I went to Bluestem this past Saturday and someone ordered scallops. I had never had a scallop, but they looked interesting, in a small white half-dollar pancake sorta way. I tried it...and I liked it! So I decided we must try cooking scallops at home.

I ventured forth to Hen House, since my local Price Chopper doesn't have much seafood. It does have good MEAT though. Yum. Anyhow, I found the seafood section, complete with fake fishing nets strung from the ceiling and fake seagull sounds which auto-repeated every few seconds. No, I'm not kidding folks. If I worked there, I would go mad from the "RAWK!" seagull sounds over and over and over and over and...well you get the picture.

So there's this 75-year-old dude working the seafood counter and so I quickly surveyed the scallops and confidentally proclaimed, "I'll take a pound of scallops, please". Later I would discover that a pound of scallops is a little much for 2 1/2 people.

As he scooped the scallops into a bag, I conversationally asked, "So...how do I know when they are done?"

He asked, "Howya cookin' 'em?" Hmmm....hadn't really thought that one over yet.

"Er...frying them, with some wine and garlic". Whew! Good answer, I think.

"WINE?!" he exclaimed. "Sweet or dry wine?" Uh-oh. What's the right answer here?

"Sweet?" Not so confident now.

"SWEET?!" Oops. Wrong answer. Dam!

"Well, don't put a lot of wine in there. Actually don't put it in until the end. Don't put a lot in. Or it will end up tasting like fruitcake!" Dude...just say not to use sweet wine. Don't fuck with me.

"Uh...okay" Just wanting to get the hell out now...and save my dignity. But I still needed an important bit of information.

"So do I cook them for a certain length of time?" C'mon old guy, throw me a bone here...

"Oh no...don't cook them for a period of time, just cook them until they are brown. Flip them every 20 seconds or so. Also, start at the handle of the frying pan and put them in a circle around the pan. That way you'll know which one needs to be flipped first." Ah! Persistance pays off! But Yoda was to impart some even juicier info...

"Roll them in flour" he said, "They'll brown up real nice and the flavors will hold better." Martha Stewart...watch out. I'm armed with scallop-cookin' gold now!

I thanked him 100 times or so and ran from the seagull sounds to buy my $16 worth of scallops.

(continued tomorrow... Sorry! I gotta work now...)

The Fish Experiment

Loving Husband & I cooked fish for the first time tonight. Yes, the first time. Hey, we are both born and bred in the Midwest. We can make a kick-ass steak, but fish has just eluded us for, er, almost four decades.

We bought some tilapia fillets at our favorite meat counter. The grand total was $6.00. Six bucks! So I'm wondering...Why do fancy-smancy restaurants charge $18 for tilapia? Oh yeah, because people like us are too intimidated to cook fish at home.

Loving Husband was the brave chef. I provided the recipe. Thanks Cagey! For each fillet, we put olive oil on a sheet of aluminum foil, rolled each fillet in it and put the fillet in the middle, then covered it with a bit of white wine, lemon juice, green onion, roma tomato and capers. Then wrapped each package up and threw it on the grill for 8 minutes. We served it on a bed of rice. Can I get a "YUM"?

It probably could have used a bit more of SOMETHING. Not sure what. Garlic? Salt? Onion? We weren't sure and this was our first time, so we didn't want to overpower the fish with too much other flavor.

I also wasn't sold on our side dish of plain, white rice. What else goes well with fish? Any ideas? I'd love them, if you've got some good fish side dishes.

Had I known that fish was this easy (and FAST - only 8 minutes to cook!), I would have started cooking it long ago! As long as it's a fish FILLET and not anything resembling an actual, live FISH, I'm good to go.

More about my food-with-a-face aversion in a later posting...

Ah! New Carpet.

It's 11:45pm and I have new carpet. Do you?

It's nice. Squooshy soft and firm and no dog vomit, mud, coffee, red wine, dog drool, blood, crayon, nor pee stains in sight. It's the little things in life that please us most.

We could have moved! We had most of our possessions, boxed, down on our first floor. We were told to do this by the carpet company. "Move all your nick-nacks, paddy-wacks, and give the dog a bone". Well, something like that. So we did. We worked for four (seemed like forty) days and nights. And the carpet layers bowed at our knees in thanks.

While we were at it, we did about twelve years of spring, summer and fall cleaning, which added up to 3 crammed trash cans, an overflowing recycle bin and a small herd of orphan trash bags huddled around the 3 momma cans. Oh yes, and the mountain of old carpet. Which is STILL HERE. Sitting on our driveway. For 3 days now. We are certain to have the Wrath of the Homeowners Association come down on us very soon.

Was it worth it? Yes. It's almost like a new house now. New carpet smell. No clutter...yet. No overflowing closets. It's very nice. Which no doubt means we will be moving soon. Sigh.

Lights Out!

Last night it stormed. Bad. I personally love storms as they give me a cozy "well I can't go outside, so I might as well settle in and be comfortable" feeling. They also make for great sleeping. Usually. Not last night though. Let me explain...

Storm, storm, storm. Turn on news station to see brightly-colored weather map with weatherwoman describing 50 mph winds, hail, etc. very close to us. See trees in backyard doing the limbo in high wind. Reassure toddler that "rain is fun", "rain makes the grass and trees grow", "rain is good", "see the fun and good rain?". He giggles and points. Loving Husband furrows brow at weatherwoman and eyes the basement door. Lights go out. Weatherwoman disappears. Toddler giggles. Husband says, "Uh-oh" and eyes the basement door again.

Since it's bedtime for bonzo, I take him up and put him in bed. He agrees with the "rain is good for sleeping" theory and dozes right off. We find camping headlamps and walk around lighting candles, only seeing what's directly in front of us, in the thin beam of headlamp light. I realize how much of a habit it is to enter a room and switch the light switch on. I do this about 20 times, berating myself each time. No power, idiot!

With no weatherwoman to watch, Husband settles in on couch and promptly falls asleep in the candlelight. I quickly assess my options. No computer. No microwave. Not tired. I straighten up the kitchen a bit, take out the trash. Feeling like I've done my share of work, I make some tea (we have a gas stove...bonus!) and decide to do some reading. By headlamp, of course. Nice and relaxing. Ah. No guilt of things to do...couldn't do them anyway. All I can do is read. And relax. Ah....

Then around 2:00 (I'm guessing because power was still out and all clocks were dark), Junior starts crying. Dam! It's not really storming anymore, so it's not noise that woke him up. A quick check rules out the typical late-night-awakening reason (POOP!). No poop. Why is he awake and crying? I pass Junior off to Husband, and go let the dogs outside, as they are now standing by the door with legs crossed. I hear coughing then a cry for help. From Husband. Junior has yakked. Vomited. Yelled for Ralph. In his crib. And (of course) on himself. DAM!

I slowly peel the crib sheet and mattress pad off, trying not to get any on me. I can't see well because the lights are still off. I only have a beam of light to work with. Not wanting to deal with the EW!-ness just now, I decide to throw the entire mess into the bathroom tub. I replace the sheet and soothe Junior back to sleep. He feels a bit hot, but not burning hot. And I am too tired to find a thermometer and attempt to take his temperature. We all go back to sleep. Until...

About 4:00am we are awakened by SCREAMING TELEVISION AND LIGHTS!!!! The power is back on and all the things that were turned on are now on again...and LOUD. Guess that wind was pretty noisy earlier in the evening. I put a pillow over my head as Husband sprints downstairs to OFF the TV before it wakes up the dead.

This morning, I groaned and got out of bed, and felt Junior's head. He was still hot, but not burning hot. I went down to eat breakfast with the guys. Junior ate well (Husband did too) and they headed off to daycare (and work). I got in shower, and in the interests of time, skipped the makeup (HORRORS!!!). I was getting dressed when I got a call from daycare. "Junior is not feeling well. He is uncounsolable (sp?). Also he seems to have a slight fever." DAM DAM DAM! Okay, I'll pick him up.

He seems grumpy when I get there, but in good spirits. "I trow up!", he proclaims. "Did he?" I ask his teacher. "No" is the answer. "Oh, you threw up LAST NIGHT." He nods to this. "I trow up". Maybe he's just upset that he threw up. Who knows?

I get him loaded in the car and the little guy babbles and giggles the entire way home and points out all the basketball nets he sees on the way. I keep telling him he's sick, but he's not having any of that. "I sick"..."Go outside?"

Great. I have a two-year-old that knows how to play hookey. Wonderful. BTW, he's fine now. No "trowing up". No fever. And I'm stuck at home watching Baby Einstein and making grilled cheese.

Got Poop?

Over breakfast this morning, I saw Junior shift a bit to one side and heard a "toot" resonate against his plastic booster seat. I waited for him to say, as usual, "Got poop!". He can't tell yet whether it's air or the real stuff moving around down there. But he didn't.

He waited a beat, then looked at me and said, "I darted". I said (as usual), "Huh?", and he repeated "I darted". A few seconds later I made the connection. "Oh, you FARTED.". He nodded and said, "I threw out gas".

The boy's a genius!

Hair-Raising Adventures

No, I can't afford $500 a cut to go to Jonathan Antin, so I venture forth to my local salon. The one by work. The one with the Lamar's Donuts conveniently located next door, so I can get cut and get some "lunch" on my way back to work. A chocolate cream-filled long john qualifies as lunch, right? In my world it does. But I digest...er, I mean digress...

So I went to get my hair cut yesterday, and as I walked into the salon, I noticed that the linoleum floor had been painted. With lots of bright, retina-burning colors. In big splashes. That stopped just short of the front reception desk. "Cool floor" I exclaimed, really not knowing what else to say. And not mentioning the fact that the thick black stripes that had previously adorned the floor were peeking through the new paint treatment. "Thanks!" said the eccentric new owner of the salon, decked out in her low-cut mumu and Pippy-like pigtails (did I mention she was eccentric?), "We finished it late last night". Okay...

As my stylist steered me over to her chair and started the obligatory small talk, I mentioned the floor. She got down close to my ear and started giving me the scoop, in hushed whispers. The owner had, over the weekend, decided to paint the floor of the entire salon. She and her cohorts had entered into the back of the salon, begun painting with a vengence towards the front of the salon, until they realized that their purses (and car keys) were in their purses. In the back of the salon. Across the sea of wet paint. And the back door was locked, thus barring any "run around the building to the back door" solution.

They had called my stylist to have her come let them in. When she got there, she noticed the very strong smell of the polyurethane wafting from the salon. She whispered, "I'm surprised we didn't find them passed out here this morning from all those fumes!". THAT would have made an interesting story, eh?

This new owner is a strange bird of the wildest variety. She's a wannabe artist. But not a good one. Her hair cutting station is decked out with a variety of artistic touches, including a fabric wrap around her chair. I can't imagine how much old hair lives in that stylish wrap. Ew!

Also, I was in another time when she rushed in, in a frenzied state, picked up a little hammer-like tool and hit a gong that I hadn't seen sitting there by the front desk. The noise was deafening (the salon is not that large) and the receptionist and I had to wait for the din to finish (it lasted for about 20 seconds!) before we could finish my transaction. My face had an straight expression of "Oh sure, I see gongs in many stores that I visit on a regular basis...no big deal...yawn", but I nearly peed my pants from the shock of the noise! And she stood there, eyes closed, taking a yoga-like cleansing breath. A gong! Many Gong Show jokes come to mind, but that's just too easy.

It will be about five weeks until my next haircut. I can't imagine what my next visit will expose me to, but I'll bet it will be blog-worthy.

Goofy Ole Bag...or Trendsetter?

While surfing some blogs (do you "surf" blogs? Or is there another trendy verb I should use? Lurk? Peruse? Read?), I discovered that I am not the only Goofy Girl in cyberspace. Sniff-sniff. There is another Goofy Girl. And she has shelled out bucks for her own domain, unlike my cheap ass. I hate her for stealing my domain name, even though I would never cough up bucks to support my blogging habit.

I took a look at her blog, hoping somehow for a kindred spirit. Instead I found a goofy 24-year-old, pictured with a dog (fake? real??) on her head. How goofy is that! This somehow makes me feel old...very old.

She seems excited about her next oil change, collecting mosquito larvae and seeing a new movie about penguins. Like I said...she's 24. Isn't that what all 24-year-olds want? Maybe it's been too long and I don't remember. Could I be getting Alzheimer's? What was I writing about just now?

And just when I think I had absolutely nothing in common with this youngster, she mentions that she's a Survivor fan (hey, me too!) and she writes about a book she recently read, The Kite Runner (hey, I read that book and liked it too!) She writes a lot about food (gotta love her!) and her dog (yep, I'm a softie for the canine species too). And she's an only child (okay now we're getting scary...)

Then I get to the really scary part. She writes "I stole this idea from some person's blog that's a mom." Whoa. Hold up. A mom. I'm a mom. I write about it. Is it Me? ME? Did she steal her blog name from ME?

Wow. The idea is not so bothersome as it is flattering. In fact, I think she just made my day!

The Revenge of the 'Net

Well, I made my goal...and then some.

As some of you have noted, I did not re-appear until, well, until today. This was not by design, and rest assured I have been having some serious Net Withdrawl.

As planned vacation days always seem to go...we got up later than expected, needed more prep than expected, but actually managed to get on bikes and start riding about 11:30am on Friday. After a 2-HOUR RIDE (yes, it was me that suggested "one more trail" Doh!), we packed our bikes up, did a cool-down stretch...and noticed the rain drops. Damn you Weatherman! Damn you Weatherwoman too!

We had to grab some lunch, so maybe it would stop. We did have 3 more hours of Junior-free time and we had planned on hitting the lake in our kayaks for a quick paddle.

We ate lunch and watched the rain pour down....

"What was our Plan B?", Loving Husband asked. "Plan B?" I replied. We made a couple lame attempts at shopping (not our favorite thing and being dressed in muddy bike gear made it so much more fun...NOT), then headed home. We ended up taking a well-needed nap.

So, I was good and avoided the Net, until after midnight. "Yeah, I made my goal!" I declared. I'm going to go check email. "Not so fast," said Loving Husband, "we haven't gotten a signal this afternoon". What!? WHAT?!?!

I hadn't planned on this turn of events. Of course, I checked myself and he was right...no signal. I did the obligatory rebooting of the cable modem, rebooting of the PCs (all 3 of them). No dice. I gave up and went to bed.

Next morning...still no Net. Damn Net! I knew that I had dissed it on Friday and now was giving me the cold shoulder. I tried lamely to get it working, then finally gave up.

Around dinnertime last night, it finally came to me...I hadn't rebooted the ROUTER. Damn it, I'll bet the Router was the problem. Sure enough...that did the trick. Now the Net was working again.

I sat there trying to think of all the things I had wanted to do on the Net while it was down. I couldn't think of anything. So I went downstairs and had some wine.

That will teach that darn Net...

A Goofy Goal

I have a vacation day tomorrow. Yeah! Yippee! Yee-ya! And here's my goal:

Do absolutely no work-related tasks.

No brainer, huh? Well, not really. My real goal, although I'm skeptical that I will actually pull it off, is:

Do nothing on the computer for one day.

No email. No surfing. No i-Poding. No blogging. Sorry about that last one!

I don't know if I can do it! I don't think I can go 24 hours without doing something on the computer.

We will see...stay tuned.

Yawn.

I am testing the most unbelievably boring system on the face of the earth. I normally don't do testing like this, but I somehow convinced someone that I was responsible enough to handle the entire project. Note to self: Do not do this again.

So here's what this stupid system does:
We take about 5 types of data and match them up with about 5 other types of data. So I have to test..uh...oh crap, how would I calculate the number? A permutation? A combination? No, the things don't get thrown back in, so I guess a permutation would be it. So let's just say the quantity is a Giant Butt-Load of different combinations of these types of data. The thought of having my fingernails pulled out, one by one, slowly, is looking pretty good right now.

So I take each combination...let's say A and B and I go looking in at least 4 database tables to find out how many occurrences of this specific "A to B" connection there are. See, you are already bored! I can hear you yawning out there! Poor me...poor, poor me.

Oh yes, and there's also date ranges that must be considered. Which differ and add several more iterations to each test. It's horrible, I tell you. I'm going to need some toothpicks to prop my eyelids open very, very soon. It's fast approaching 3:00pm, my 'sleepy time' of the day. I'm already mainlining the Diet Coke, so I don't know what's next.

And not that I would advocate doing this, but I am tempted to cut some corners in the testing, just to get the pain over. However, after testing, I, yes, yours truly, will be the main user of the abomination. So if it doesn't work, I have to deal with it.

Damn. Shit. Fuck.

Click the Color, not the Word

This is way fun, although the Beatles-esque song gets old after a while.

Click the Color, Not the Word

See if you can beat my score. I got 74.

Ants! (Update)

I haven't seen the ants.

Do you think they read my blog? Are they preparing their counter-attack for the Terro? Or are they happily munching on my coffee beans in the cabinet, out of sight?
I fear that they know we are having friends over for dinner on Saturday (they've probably got the phone lines tapped). As we serve the main course, I can just see the Ant Brigade swarming in the house and onto the dining table. They will have little flags that proclaim, "Ants Rule!". I will faint into my medium-rare steak and miss all the excitement.

Ants!

We have ants. In our house. Ew.

Ants do not generally bother me, when they are outside, doing their ant business, like building ant hills and carrying off small bits of picnic food. In my kitchen, however, they are bothersome.

I found a few over by the coffee pot about 2 weeks ago. After looking further, I realized they had traveled up into the cabinets and into our salt shaker. Yes, I said "into". Ew.

We bought some little ant traps, which look like small plastic spaceships for the ants to travel back to their mother-planet in. "Look there, Jacque, it eez our spaceship. We go home now. Bonjour!" The trap has some mysterious "stuff" in it that gets on the ant's little toes and they carry it back to the ant headquarters, where it gets on everyone and kills them all. That's the theory at least.

We put a trap by the coffeemaker. The next day...no ants. Cool. That was easy. A little too easy...

About a week later (they must have been planning out their next attack), I discovered a trail of ants coming up from the floor on the other side of the kitchen, past the dog food (luckily they couldn't breach the dog food containers) and into the sink. I basically came home to a thick black trail of ants from floor to sink. Ew. Ew! EW!

I squashed and cursed. Cursed and squashed. Put a trap on the counter. Put one on the floor. I had to go meet a friend for dinner, so I did that and came back to find no ants and a chewed up ant trap. My dog had decided that the spaceship looked tasty. Quick call to Animal Hospital. Vomiting? No. Diahrrea? No. Lethargy? No. Well, yes, but no more than normal. Dog is okay. Whew.

The ants retreated for a while, but last night they were back, although their numbers had diminished. I squashed and cursed some more and left for dinner with hubby and Junior.

After dinner, I moved my wrapper that my food had been sitting on and there was an ant underneath. AN ANT! I didn't see any other ants on the table, just the one, under my FOOD wrapper. Say it with me folks....EW!!!!!!!

"Hah-hah! My name eez Pierre. I jump in zee purse and come to dinner vith jou. Zurprise!" (because we all know that ants speak with a bad French accent)

I tried not to think about it too much. Ew. Ew! EW! When we got home, the ants had retreated. Or maybe they had taken off in their spaceship. Who knows. I didn't look too hard.

As I was getting ready to go to bed last night, I pulled open the covers, got in, was arranging my pillows and there he was...a lone ant. IN MY BED. Trying to look casual. EEEEEWWWW!

Loving Husband saw my horror and before I could stop him, he flicked the ant across the room. "NO!" I screamed, "KILL HIM!"

I could almost hear the chuckling as the ant got away clean.

That's it. It's on. Me versus the Ants. Stay tuned...

My Shopping List

When I caught a glimpse of my shopping list for this week, I just had to laugh:

Fruit
Fudgsicles
Softball Bat
9-Volt Battery

What a goofy selection of items!

However, when I thought for a moment about the list, it really said quite a bit about who I am. What the hell do I mean?

Let me explain...

Fruit - I really try to be healthy...
Fudgsicles - ...but I have very little willpower
Softball Bat - I'm competitive by nature
9-Volt Battery - I'm a mom - the battery powers the baby monitor - my Key to Freedom after Junior goes to bed

I showed you mine...now show me yours.

What's your shopping list look like?

Headline of the Week

Man's Giant Weenie Stolen

I'm no detective, but I think someone needs to talk to Paula Abdul about this.

If I were a...

I've been tagged by Mojavi to participate in a serious experiment. No, not really, it's just a fun game. Here's how it works...

I pick 5 of the following occupations and complete the sentiment, adding an occupation of my choice to the end.

THE OCCUPATIONS:
If I could be a scientist...
If I could be a farmer...
If I could be a musician...
If I could be a doctor...
If I could be a painter...
If I could be a gardener...
If I could be a missionary...
If I could be a chef...
If I could be an archaeologist...
If I could be an architect...
If I could be a linguist...
If I could be a psychologist...
If I could be a librarian...
If I could be an athlete...
If I could be a lawyer...
If I could be an innkeeper...
If I could be a professor...
If I could be a writer...
If I could be a llama-rider...
If I could be a bonnie pirate...
If I could be a servicemember...
If I could be a business owner...
If I could be an actor...
If I could be an agent...
If I could be video game designer...
If I could be photographer...
If I could be a circus performer...
If I could be a spy...
If I could be a fashion designer...
If I could be a high school student again... (Gerah)
If I could be a clothing designer for very small dogs... (Diana)
If I could be a personal assistant... (mojavi)
If I could be a blogger... (Goofy Girl)

And now, my contribution to the madness:
(to be read limerick-style)

If I could be a video game designer...
I wouldn't make a dime,
cause all the video game "testing"
would take up all my time.

If I could be an archaeologist...
I'd dig up lots of bones,
I'd find a brand new dinosaur
and keep her for my own.

If I could be a chef...
I'd bake and bake some more,
you'd have to get a crowbar
to fit me through the door.

If I could be a clothing designer for very small dogs...
I'd outfit lots of pups,
I'd make them tiny belts and shoes
and hats like buttercups.

If I could be a musician...
I'd play the drums like Peart*,
but if I ever tried to sing,
I'll bet your ears would hurt.

*That would be Neil Peart, the drummer for Rush, for those of not quite as old as me. ;-)