Save Ferris

Work has been crazy these days with my co-worker out on maternity leave and the auditors coming. I was working longer hours at work and spending my days off working as well and it was stressing me out. I work part-time for a reason, and that reason doesn't include career plans or huge salaries--so it was starting to get to me.

I finally snapped on one particularly long day at home--driving Em to doctor's visits and balancing work emails and projects in between. I don't earn very much, so that extra time spent logging into the work system was just frying me with nothing to justify the hours. I burst into tears driving Grace to the vet, with Em patting my arm the whole way. I realized that no matter how much I worked, I was never getting ahead.

And that is when I decided no more. I will work an hour or so later each day I go into the office, but no longer will I log on at home. Home is home, work is work, and neither shall cross each other's path. Each is important in their own right, but I was nearing the end of my wick and my personal candle was growing dim.

I decided that I am taking a week off to catch my breath. No work, no logging on at home, no blogging, no stress. I did post ahead with the option to return comments, but I'm definitely not committing to anything for one entire week. If I don't take that week, I'm gonna snap. Nancy gave me permission, telling me that you will all be here when I return--I certainly hope she is right.

I need to breathe deep and contemplate some important things like tan lines and that stack of new books I just received in the mail.  I want to shut down the computer and disconnect for a bit--but instead connect like Ferris--noticing the little stuff and living life.

I'm going in search of me--who is just getting lost in corporate paper shuffling.

Coasting into the Weekend

In honor of it being Friday and all, I'm taking the slacker route and posting my new favorite video.

It is second only to I Spy Cat for it's snappy "Nope!" usage.  



I don't know about you, but I'm gonna use that silly "Nope!" to everyone who asks me something this weekend just because I do stuff like that. And it makes my kids eye roll. That's my favorite part.

Happy Weekend, pallies!! Remember to go live life a bit.

Keeping a Safe Distance

I love these two--no matter what, they are NOT going to be friends. Ever. Not in a cabillion years.  Nope.

It's not for the lack of trying on Hobbes part--he always sneaks up on Grace and whacks her one, trying to get her to play chase.  For some reason, Grace does not appreciate the effort and she just looks at him with that "Really?!" look, spits, and walks away--usually with Hobbes following her, attempting more whacks until he finally gives up.
 
I'm not sure who I feel more sorry for--Grace for not wanting to be friends or for Hobbes who can't convince her to be his pally.  They are both goofy if you ask me.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

I've just sorta learned that some things are just "guy" things.

Rarely do you see women getting excited about:

Motorized vehicles too small for your body

Fireworks of any kind

Large screen TVs

Surround Sound on large screen TVs

Watching golf on TV

Toothpicks

Fast cars

Riding lawn mowers

Right?

Don't ask me why I was thinking about that--I just was.  Because that's what I do--I think about important stuff like that sometimes.

Here's an 'ol kick in the shins for the road.........

NOTE: Nobody is dead in this post

...........and now, on with the story:

It is with great sadness that I must report the loss of one of the tried and true characters here at the Duck and Wheel. And before you go and start boo-hooing and grabbin' the kleenex, I have to tell you that I have mixed feelings about this one--

My favorite garden center of the universe is closing, which means that there will no longer be a Cocky Garden Center Dude in my life. Sigh.

Nor will there be lovely perennials that tempt me to take them home. Or boat-loads of interesting annuals or hanging plants in which Emma has to try to keep alive all summer.  Or tubs of snails and tadpoles (with and without arms) for me to adopt. Or help with sick trees or garden questions.  There isn't going to be anyone to chat about plants with or ask if everyone else's pond in the area is green too.  And my wallet will suddenly be filled with money that I would otherwise hand over willingly to my favorite place of the world--Sid's Greenhouse.

I'm sick with the sadness of it all. It was my hangout, my guilty pleasure, my place that I spent all of my hard-earned cash at--and it is closing, after a million years or something of being in business. And it breaks my heart to see another mom & pop place go down the tubes--never to return.  I hate that we are stuck with big box stores that sell cheap and crappy plants for the unknowing masses.  I hate that I will have to travel to find decent garden wares, if I can find them at all.

You  know, I can take Borders closing (not without much sadness), but Sid's Greenhouse--that is a whooooole other story.  It was my hangout, my place to go all summer long--and sometimes even in the winter when I needed  some green for my eyeballs to rest on.  Damn, I'm gonna miss Sid's. 

While the news of its closing spurned bargain shoppers and deal hunters, I couldn't bring myself to go.  I didn't need to pick the bones of my dear friend, and I certainly couldn't go and say goodbye to all of my buddies there.  As for Cocky Garden Center Dude--I'm not sure I wouldn't go over and give him one last kick in the shins--you know, for old times sake. And I don't think that would have made him feel any better, so I stayed home and thought of the Sid's I remember--the one stocked with cool garden stuff, pond supplies, and a never-ending supply of tadpoles.

So, it is with heavy heart that we say goodbye to Cocky Garden Center Dude, to my friends at Sid's and to all the businesses past and present that are trying to make it through this economy.  And while Washington may just view this as a business, I feel like I lost a friend.  I'm sure Obama doesn't have a Sid's or a Cocky Garden Center Dude in his life that he needs to look out for.  But he should--it would make some decisions more important, I think.

And so, Cocky Garden Center Dude--I say thank you for the attitude and the laughs. In the end, the score was a draw--I got you with the raccoons, but you got me with the heron.  Damn.

Rockin' the Gangsta' Socks

Yes, that is my husband with two left shoes on.  He grabbed them on accident once and will never, ever live that down.  The subject comes up often when we are dressing to go somewhere. Crazy that I have to remind him to wear a right AND a left shoe now.

Colin needed a suit for my cousin's wedding a few weeks ago, so off we went to our favorite suit store.  It's a local place and while it has great prices on suits and ties and such, but it is.....uh......sort of a "cultural" experience, if you get what I'm saying.  Okay, get the hate mail going--it's a place that caters to a certain culture that is not ours.  You know, one that can wear a mustard color suit and pull it off.  White people cannot wear mustard colored suits without looking silly--I'm just sayin'. But they have lovely suits at a good price and so we go there.

But when we go there, I have to constantly remind Joe to just be really aware of what he is buying because while all those fashions are snappy, he cannot wear a hat with his suit or certain shoes without looking like a pimp. Men of color can wear certain things and look nice that we cannot, and vice-versa. It's not racist, it is the truth.

Anywho, I leave Joe for like 5 minutes to help Colin and he disappears.  When he finally reappears, he's all grinning and holding a package of socks.  Apparently he needed some anklets to go with his two left shoes, and so he grabbed a bag.

And I never checked those socks until I got home and washed them.  One the bottoms of the socks reads "Sean John".  If you don't know who Sean John is, it's P-Diddy. Puffy Combs. Sean Combs. Puff Daddy. Diddy.  Whatever, you know who I'm talking about, right? 

So the guy is not only a music mogul, now he's making anklets??? Seriously?? And my dorky white husband is wearing his socks like he's a gangsta'?  And can you really be gangsta' in anklets?  Or any sorta socks for that matter? 

Somehow, I'm not thinking Sean Jean/Puffy/Diddy/Whatever had the likes of Joe in mind when he was all planning the new sock industry.  Cool, Joe is not--not even in his anklets. And he certainly isn't gangsta'.

Thank god the logo is on the bottom of the socks--that way he can't embarrass Diddy.

It's the most wonderful time of the year

Summer has this incredible speed about it. There is something about warm weather and sunshine that speeds up the clock, and just when you think it's just started, it's nearly over. 

Band started this week, which is the sign that summer ending.  Well, it is still warm, it's just that there is a bunch of miserably hot kids all over the country marching their new drills for fall.  Same for us--Em started this past week and has a full week ahead of intense rehearsals.  Along with her rehearsals comes band parent meetings, fundraising, and uniform fittings.  So, while those kids are gearing up, so are the parents. Ugh. Here we go...

While I love marching season, I'm not sure I'm ready for all of those dates to be transferred to the calendar--the have-tos and gotta-bes.  I have to admit to liking the refrigerator void of the school calendar, but alas, there will come a day too soon when there is no longer a school calendar in this house, so I've got to enjoy it while I can.  Or I'm just gonna have to adopt another band kid.

Only two more marching seasons ahead for us.........

The whole world is electronic

Did you hear that Borders is closing?  Dang. I love that store.  I love going there, perusing all the tables in the front displaying the new reads, bargain books, and employee favs.   I love not knowing what I am looking for and walking out with a bag full of books. Oh, such promise of a great story and an interesting read inside that bag!

Colin recently got a Kindle for his birthday.  Homeboy is all about electronics and gadgets, so the Kindle is great for him--I think it will get him to read more in the end.  He loves the gadgety part of it--but I would miss the physical-ness of holding a book in my hands while I read.

I love the feel of the pages of a book and my snappy collection of bookmarks.  There is just something about moving that Tazzy bookmark I have from our pally, Tracy, that lets me know that I'm moving along in my book. And it makes me laugh. I have a few bookmarks, and depending on the book, I have to chose my bookmark ever so carefully.  Really slow reads get a scrap of paper, while a good book earns the Tazzy.

And at any time, my bookmark selection can change as my opinion of the book changes.  It's serious stuff this bookmarking.

I'm a tactile gal and anything I'm interested in usually involves my hands and the sense of touch.  Heck, I even have to blog on the desktop for the feel of the keys and the little clicky sounds they make. 

For years, I quilted which was huge with the tactile me.  I still have boat-loads of fabric that I love to look at and.....well....touch.  While I don't quilt as much because of my work schedule, I still pull out the fabric collection every so often and dig through it, dreaming of possibility and future quilts with that lovely cotton.  And I can't bear to part with it--I love the feel of it all.

So, with the closing of Borders, I wonder what is going to happen to all these books and what exactly is going to be the outlet for authors and touchy-book people like me?  Is everyone into the electronic readers or do you like the "feel" of a book in your hands?  And are books going to go the way of the vinyl record?  Gosh I hope not.

Why is it that the world has to "improve" everything like HD TV?  I happen to like my newspaper on Sunday mornings and a book stuffed into my purse.  I like an old scratchy record or even a CD--I miss album covers that we used to hold and look at while we listened to the music.  All this new-fangled technology is missing touch in so many ways.

Sigh.. I sound like my grandpa, don't I?  But watching books disappear is something I am not ready for. And Borders closing is a scary sign of what is to come.

I love Hobbes Thursday and other stuff

It's so hot here (104 degrees) that we aren't letting the kitties out.  Well, Hobbes went out for a bit yesterday, but he just sort of laid in the shade and didn't do much more than lay there wondering why he was so darn uncomfortable.  Even playing "kitty tail" was out of the question, so you know it is hot.

Grace is out of sorts as well. She is back on antibiotics for another infection. Ugh.  And after running blood work, we are sort of noticing that her old kidneys are starting to rumble a bit.  We aren't at a dangerous stage yet, but I'm half expecting that things aren't going to get any better. She's old, my pally Grace, and I dread the thought of her not being with me.  She and I had a little discussion about flunking tests--that isn't allowed here.

On a happier note, guess who's back in dodge? Yep, a certain runaway frog--kill the fatted calf.  Em noticed that there were 3 big frogs out in the pond yesterday, and sure enough, he's decided to come back home.  And while I'm all giddy  he's home, I'm playing it cool, just in case he bails again.  I find that once they get that taste for traveling it's inevitable that they leave for good.  We'll see.

The rollercoaster of fun continues with our cable provider switching everything over to digital this month.  Can I just go on record to say that I do not care if my television is in HD or digital?  Really. That silly thing can be black and white for all I care--but apparently that isn't good enough for me. Or so cable TV providers say.  So, now that we have this "wonderful" picture, programming continues to be lame AND all my channels are messed up.  And now if I want channel 59, I have to type into my remote 88 - 59.  Seriously. 4 freaking numbers AND a hyphen. But it may be 65 - 59--I don't know, there isn't a channel listing anywhere.   I may be dead before I find my favorite shows. Ugh.

It's never dull here. Ever.  Well, maybe it is but I just think this stuff is exciting. Looooserrrrr.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

Seriously, it's hot here. Really hot. Like I'm-half-expecting-the-pond-to-be-boiling-over kinda hot.  I may just melt--or pop.

Thank you, Chuck, for sending this to me.

Who hired Scut Farkus?

Why is it that no matter how far we have come in our lives or how many years have passed that we can revert back to being that insecure lumpy middle-schooler from long ago. I dunno, maybe it's just me, but it only takes me half a second and a bad middle school memory to get me there. Sometimes it just takes a name--and just one in particular.

I heard that name yesterday.

I learned that the evil, nasty girl that tormented and bullied me in grade school works for the same company I do.  Someone else brought it up to me and so I'm thinking that she knew all along who I was.  She even admitted that I "looked familiar" and so she looked me up in her year book.  All I kept thinking when she was emailing all this to me is that she hasn't left the hallways of Wilkins Junior High just yet, while I haven't given the place a thought in 35 years. And I get the distinct impression she hasn't changed her ways very much either.

You know, I'm all about frogs and change here at the Duck and Wheel. I love how that squishy 'ol tadpole blossoms into that smiley-faced beauty and leads a life very different from his beginning.  I find it incredible how time and a wee bit of algae can make a guy change and sprout arms and such.  And while most folks don't always think the final product is all that lovely, at least you have to appreciate the journey, right? 

I was squishy once a very long time ago--like the tadpole.  I was awkward and unsure of myself. I was lumpy and didn't wear hip clothes. Sure I was a big dork, but I don't think I deserved what this dame dished out--nobody did.  She referred to me as "Smelly" for all of middle school (and well into high school) and then tormented me in the hallways at every opportunity.  She was a bully, plain and simple--and the mere mention of her name makes my stomach churn.

It's incredible that after all of these years, some people just don't change. I mean, have you ever seen a tadpole that never turns into a frog? I haven't--I think they shrivel up and die if they don't have the ability to transform and to change for some reason.  And it's a darn shame because I'm thinking that life as a frog can be a good one--there's all that warm sunshine on your back and delicious bugs to be enjoyed.Who the hell cares how you started out, right? It's where you end up that matters.

I've struggled with my frog self in the last few hours, trying to justify that I have no reason to feel ashamed for the tadpole that I was or that somehow, silly me, I deserved any of that treatment. But it is hard to escape those middle school feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt. That darn middle-schooler has a big stage whisper on some days--and she makes me feel bad about myself.

I wish I could say that I have forgiveness in my heart, but I do not. In the end, I have to remember that I like the frog that I have become.  I have grown and changed from all those years ago and middle school did not define me and who I am.  If it defined this particular tadpole, then I have to pity her--it seems there is some shriveling going on.

What happened to the weekend??!

Criminy, Monday comes up fast, doesn't it?  Sheesh.  I'm still in recovery mode from the weekend's festivities--my cousin Kelly's wedding.  And what a wedding it was.

Kelly is one of my favorite cousins, so it was extra nice to see her so darn happy. You know, that girl just deserves happiness and I think she got it--in the form of a really great guy, Iwan, and 230 of her closest friends and relatives helping her celebrate. 

It's the weirdest thing--we have two Ivan's in our family--and we're not even Russian or anything.  What is with that???! You know, we are used to the Joe G. vs. Joe K. thing, but when you have to do that with the Ivans---gees, that is odd, isn't it?

Well, maybe not, but I thought it was. How many Ivans do you have in your family?

The kids loved hanging with all the cousins.  Em was weary of being introduced to cousin after cousin, but I'm not sure you can ever have enough of those.  Short and tall, young and old--there were cousins everywhere.

There was even enough of the younger generation of cousins to take this photo.  I like the guy in the front--planking.  There is always one jokester in the crowd. Actually, I'm just mad that I didn't think of it first.

This was the first time in years that our entire family was together for an event.  Someone called it 'epic'--I'm thinking it was just nuts. Nuts, but fun.  Seriously, there were some family members that I have not seen since I was a little girl, so catching up was interesting.  And so was trying to explain to my kids who everyone was.

Then someone suggested a family photo, which was pure mayhem.  This is just the shot of us organizing everyone before I had to run into the shot for the official photo.  And you had to hear this madness while we were attempting to set up--everyone was bossing everyone else around. It was hilarious--typical Zackers, but hilarious just the same.  We are a loud bunch.

Joe, Me, G'ma Phyl--note Joe and G'ma Phyl's color coordination. They are dorks.

Oh, I have a cabillion photos of the weekend--cousins with cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, brothers, and sisters.  It was great just to see everyone again.  And it was nice to celebrate such a happy occasion.

Okay, back to work. My stomach hurts from all the food consumed, my legs hurt from dancing, and my butt is killing me from riding that tricycle down a grassy hill to make the kids laugh.  Commence recovery.........

Cousin Fest

Guess who's in town?? Every one of my wacky family members. Yep, it's pretty hilarious to see all those people we used to hang with as kids all grown up with kids of their own--it's kinda like Cousin Fest.

I don't think our full family has been together in years as we are all spread out around the country. And even if they do live nearby, we just don't see each other because, well, life is busy. It's nice that a wedding brings us together because we have 3 days of parties to catch up after all those years.

We were introducing the kids to everyone last night and after the 50th cousin introduction, Em said "So, pretty much everyone here is a cousin, right?" Yep. There are cousins, second cousins, cousins by marriage, cousins once removed, and third cousins.  When in doubt, call them cousin and give 'em a hug. That was sort of my theory.

I laugh that while Joe's family is beige, mine is very colorful.  Each of us is a character in their own right, vying for the limelight and the center stage at every opportunity. From kid to adult, there are some strong personalities--none of which are boring.  It's hilarious to just sit back and watch the madness when we get together.  And while most of it is fun, there has been the rare occasion of  eff-bomb dropping at Thanksgiving dinner and some ruffled feathers. But what family doesn't, right?

That said, this is a group that knows how to laugh and have fun--they also know how to party.  I've survived the rehearsal dinner last night, but there is a full day ahead today.  Cousin Jill and I both joined the kids on riding the plastic tricycle down the hill last night--white pants and pink dress unscathed--while not one relative blinked an eye.  I guess they are just used to that sort of stuff with this group.

The wedding is today and I'm sure there is gonna be blog fodder galore.  And yes, I'm bringing the camera.

.......And I feel fine

We had this huge storm blow in the other day and while it knocked down trees and left hundreds of thousands (yes, really) of people without electricity, it just left me two wee nests in the yard.  Where they came from, I have no idea--I just know there are a couple of birds homeless today.  Well--not really, I was just being dramatic.  I don't really think anyone was living in those nests anymore.

I was talking to a woman I know about this storm and she was all doomsday about it.  She went on and on about how the weather is so weird now and there is so much damage these days.  And then, she made that link to "it's the end of the world".  Really? 'Cuz I'm not sure that the equation of wind + no electricity = the apocalypse.  Talk about dramatic. Sheesh.

Okay, so I get that it's been weird this year with lots of snow and rain. Then there is the hot weather, earthquakes, tsunamis, and droughts--but I'm not convinced those four horsemen are saddling up.  I would think that if God was taking us down, he wouldn't be dragging it out so darn long. I'm guessing that the end of the world ain't comin' on the back end of some tree falling down in my yard.

I tried calming her with the notion that we just notice the damage of such occurrences  now that we are so dependent on cell phone towers and electricity to run our computers and big screen TVs.  Add to that we live so darn close in the city that if a tree falls, it does damage--to lots of things nearby. And trees fall all the time in forests and such--we just notice it more now that we are taking over every inch of green space on this earth.  There's too many humans on this planet and sometimes nature has a way of encroaching on "our" turf.

So, I left my friend freaking out and saying some prayers.  I wished her well and hoped that if the end was near, may it be quick and painless. And then I went on my merry way to have that stupid orthopedic shoe taken off my foot.

Who cares if it's all gonna end tomorrow--at least I'm going down with two matching shoes.

'Ol Mouse-Lips

The other morning as I left for work, I saw Hobbes out in the grass looking intently at something in the grass.  I figured it was a bee or maybe a mouse--neither of which I wanted to deal with before work. But I did--I checked it out and sure enough, Hobbes found a wee mouse friend.

And while I'm all about getting rid of mice and such, I felt sorry for the spit-laden guy, so I scooted Hobbes into the house and encouraged Mr. Soggy to move along.  I'm sort of a softy like that. He was awfully cute, that little mouse.

I came home, hours later, to find Hobbes back in the exact spot I saw him earlier in the day.  And he was searching for his friend--you know, the one that was loooonnnng gone. Silly Hobbes. Em and I stood there laughing as he searched and searched, convinced it was right where he left it.

He searched low.....

and high.

Low...

and high.

Low again.

And then really, really low.

And that's when he popped out of the hostas with his long lost mouse friend--apparently he had been playing with the darn thing all day.  Em couldn't figure out why he was enjoying laying in the hostas so much.  Now she knows--he was just hangin' with that little mouse all day.

Apparently my cat either a) isn't hungry, b) doesn't have that killer instinct, or c) is too dumb to kill a mouse, but that poor tiny thing was exhausted from being messed with for hours.  He wasn't hurt or anything--just exhausted. I think he must have gotten a few baths along the way as well.

Joe finally called off the fun by locking Hobbes in for the day.  He and I scooped the mouse up and set him free by plopping him back into the neighbor's yard (where they come from) and giving him a well-deserved break from our cat. 

So, now there is one very exhausted, but clean, mouse out there enjoying life again.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

I love hydrangea season--they are pretty much my favorite flower.  Except they don't have a fragrance, which they should because then they would definitely be my favorite flower.

I can't imagine living somewhere where there are flowers year round. Would you take them for granted, I wonder? Do you just pass by the colors without taking a second look?  Do you even notice when certain plants are in bloom and others are done?


Seasons are good, I think, because it forces us to notice things like colors and smells, and changes in the world around us.  It's good to appreciate that these are only here for a short time. I mean, I just wait for that darn bush to bloom each year and it never lets me down.

Well, except for that no-smell part.

Shhhhhhh......

Unlike Joe the Sasquatch that is typically in the background of my photos, I found this little surprise in one of my photos from the beach the other day.  And do you know what's funny--that dude could totally be me these days--except I'm not a guy.

I'm pooped. I mean, really pooped.  I'm so pooped I could fall flat on my face on the beach and sleep until next week. If someone let me. And the weather was really nice and not rainy or anything. And everyone left me alone. (That would be the best part)

Well, my co-worker left on maternity leave a couple of weeks ago, so I'm sort of helping out--as much as a rusty 'ol gal can.  I'm learning new stuff and handling what I can in her absence, and then WHAMMO--the auditors decided that this would be the perfect time to stop by for a little visit.  Really?! Like I'm not frazzled enough? Ugh. 

You know, I do not like this working thing very much.  I work part-time because I like the flexibility and the short hours. Really, I like leaving at 2:00 p.m. everyday--it makes me feel like I have a real life instead of just working.  I'm not even sure there is enough money on this earth to make me work full-time. I just like being with my kids and doing things like fitting band uniforms or chaperoning trips. I even like taking a little nap with Grace every day.  This job stuff pretty much just gets in the way I figured out.

I'm sort of anti-social when I get home these days, so that is why I haven't been around as much as I would like. So, if I'm not a good blog friend who visits and comments, if I don't call to chat with you for an hour, if I don't want to go shopping or answer emails or texts--you know why---

I'm busy sleeping on the beach!

Important Things I Think About

While I laid on my lounge chair at the pool yesterday, I was thinking about all those little things that make you life nice. You know, everyday stuff that nobody blinks an eye at, but their absence can make you miserable--like my hair dryer, which decided to die on me a few weeks ago.

Hair dryers are tough because you typically just run to the Walmart and grab one off the shelf. And nine times out of ten, you grab the one that is in your price range, and if you are like me, that range is pretty much "cheap".  But you can't try them out, you can't hear if they sound like a 747 in your ear or if they blow cold air when it says "hot", and you certainly can't stand there in the aisle trying to figure out if it is comfortable in your hand while you bend this way and that while it is attached to the wall.

See--you never really gave your hair dryer much thought, did you?

Well, my hair dryer went cold one day. It went "pfffft" and then............cold. And it was too quiet. I'm not sure what that means in hair dryer mechanics, but to me it screamed "you're screwed".  And we were.

We went through our litany of back-up hair dryers, including raiding Colin's college tub up in the attic.  Oh sure, there were super loud ones (not nice at 5:30 a.m.) and semi-warm ones, but none were as lovely as our old one.  Even the cords weren't as long and I kept getting unplugged when I went to do the right side of my head--which was very annoying.

I silently wept the day I admitted defeat and tossed it in the garbage.  I kept it in the cabinet, hoping against hope that it would revive itself like a phoenix, but alas, no plugging and unplugging ever returned my beloved hair dryer to it's original power. It was dead and I needed to admit it. So, out it went.

And off I went to the Target (which I hate) to find its replacement. 

It was like a dream that I found Old Hair Dryer's twin sister on the shelf. Yes! They still make that model!  I nearly had a cow in aisle 13, I tell you, and Joe just stood there wondering why I was so darn excited about hair dryers. (He doesn't get it--he doesn't have hair. Well, he does--it just doesn't need to dry it each morning. Lucky him.)

So, now, I am a happy woman.  I've got a hair dryer that actually dries my hair--without cold air OR causing me to go deaf.  Plus it folds up and it has that super long cord that allows me to dry the right side of my head AND look in the mirror. 

It's so weird what makes me happy, but I secretly think we are all like that with our everyday appliances. Whether it be your coffeemaker or your dishwasher, I think there is a small part of us that is attached to those everyday friends and their disappearance or untimely death renders us miserable.

And I'm not sure what is more odd--that I love my replacement hair dryer or that I'm thinking about it at the pool. 

Well, we sort of spiffed up the Duck and Wheel a bit this week.

I'm not so good at taking the time to do the layout myself (add in the fact that I'm an idiot when it comes to that stuff), so I called on Diana from Custom Blog Designs  to help me out. That woman has the patience of a saint, I tell ya.

It's good to have pallies, you know?

Irene's YouTube Picks

I just casually mention over the cubes at work yesterday that I haven't found any good YouTube videos lately.  It seems like it sorta rains and pours when you find a good one, but lately, we've been in a drought.

Well, the next thing you know, I've got Irene standing next to me with her phone, firing up video after video, cracking me up at my desk.  I think we might have found a new feature here: Irene's YouTube Picks--otherwise known as "Let's do anything besides work today".

Today's feature is about summer fashions. Tune in, turn it up, and enjoy.




And then she pimped out my orthopedic shoe with some glitter.  Yeah, Irene's good like that.

They lost me at camels

I rarely watch much television in the summer and what I do watch is usually light-hearted fare.  This summer, besides being hooked on "Hoarders", I'm digging that new Mark Burnett show "Expedition Impossible".

Years ago, Mark Burnett (creator of  'Survivor') used to organize an extreme endurance race called "EcoChallenge".  Teams of 4 people had to trek through the desert and snow-capped mountains, camp in the wilderness, kayak, repel, mountain climb, and use their orienteering skills to navigate the maps they were given to complete the race course. It was insanely difficult and those who participated were extreme-sports kinda folks. I was exhausted just watching that show.  I think it was just too darn hard for folks and they ended the race after a few years.

This new version is a combination of "Survivor", "Amazing Race", with a little "EcoChallenge" thrown in.  In fact, starting this race on camels originated in "EcoChallenge"--and it's nuts, completely nuts. I have come to the conclusion I do not like camels very much--they are sorta ornery most days.

As I sit there all comfy-like on my couch, watching this, I have to wonder who in the heck does this stuff?? I mean, Joe and I have been riding our bikes through the 'hood lately, and while we've been logging some miles, it certainly isn't blister-causing type stuff.  And while I like to hike, heading into a sandstorm or freezing waters is just not gonna happen.  In fact, just the mere idea of sweating too much sort of turns me off of that whole hiking thing.

So what motivates these folks?  At what point in your life do you sign up for mountain climbing and sleeping/freezing in a tent in some snow?  When does the thought of oozing blisters covering your feet make you sign on that dotted line?  Who wants to be hot, then cold, wet and then dry?    And  try to keep up with the mental challenges that keep your brain busy as well??  Sheesh. Not me.

Criminy, I'm barely comfortable sitting on the couch for the hour that it's on.  And even that makes me crabby. 

So, are you watching this?  And would you do it?

Not me.  And if I did, I would have trouble picking out team members because most people I know would want to kill me after the first 45 minutes.

I-Love-Hobbes-Thursday: and Mary Oliver poems

Oh, that darn Mary Oliver--I'm hooked on this poem lately:

The Summer Day

by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

I Spy........

Do you see him?  Click on the photo and see if you find him. 

Em found a wee bunch of praying mantis on the pine over the weekend.  Not larger than an inch, these little guys were tough to see, but 'ol Eagle Eyes Em found them.  And even though they were so little, they were still very menacing looking. 

What struck us odd was how many of these there were on the bush.  Praying mantis are notorious for eating their siblings until only one lone survivor is left.  These are vicious creatures and these little ones were no exception--as we stood there, one mantis was giving us "the eye" and we all stood back.  We weren't taking any chances on getting eaten ourselves.

This is what I love about my family--the mere sighting of a teeny bug in the front yard sends the family running to come see.  Okay, so the neighbors were probably wondering what the heck we were all yapping about and pointing at, but this is big stuff at our house. 

Yep, we are officially losers. And easily entertained ones at that.

What day is it again?

While I love these long weekends, you know I'm gonna be spending the rest of the week trying to figure out what day it is. Tuesday is gonna feel like Monday and Wednesday is like Tuesday......and so on.  The only good day is gonna be Friday because we are all gonna be thinking it's Thursday and then whammo!--it's really the end of the week. Hooray!  I'm gonna like that part.

I had a good weekend away from the computer. I did a bit of catching up, but I was doing more living than anything else.  I think that is a good thing--I mean, I actually got a gym shoe on my bad foot and went for a bike ride yesterday.  That whole broke-foot thing is a bummer for summer walks and bike rides. But I think I'm back in action again. Another hooray.

We had friends over for dinner, we went to the beach, AND we spied a cabillion baby fish in the pond. Oh--I also managed to take a photo of our new little frog.  It is very tiny indeed--about the size of a man's thumb.  And he's awfully fast--zipping away before I utter the second syllable of  "oooooohhhhhhh"  when I see him. By the time I call Joe or Em to come look at him--he's long gone, which is kind of a bummer.

Can you believe the 4th of July is over??! Wow. Summer is flying by us in super-fast lightning speed.  I need some of those slow days of my youth. Remember sitting on the sidewalk or the curb being bored?  Remember waiting for your friends to come out to play and then discussing how bored you were?  Yeah, me too.  I wanna be bored again.

I'm still checking off all of those things I want to do this summer--I think this may just be the summer I do it all.  I certainly hope so. But in the meantime, I'm sure having fun trying.

Gone.....to the beach

Forgive me, pallies. I'm bailing on the computer today--you can find me on a towel somewhere on a sandy beach, toasting my chubby self. 

and life continues...........

Leave it to the pond--life springs eternal.   Just when you are sad about one pally bailing....another appears. 

Em and I made a trip to our local garden center a couple of weeks ago, shortly after our big frog deserted us.  That's what we do when the frog population dwindles--we go to the garden center and pick us up a few tadpoles to continue the cycle.  It's sort of my personal goal to increase the frog population of this good green earth.  And it's just fun to watch those little guys sprout arms and such.

We stood there in front of the big tub 'o tadpoles and watched for those with big legs or arms.  Those are the tadpoles who need to get out of that tub as they are close to being frogs and they will drown if they don't get out of there.  And you know, of course,  Em and I spied a guy with arms amongst the hundreds in the dark water.

And guess who was working that day? Yep, Cocky Garden Center dude.  I swear that guy dies a little death every time he sees me in his department.  So, we have to make his day just a little harder than it already was...

"Hi, Garden Center Dude!"  I don't add the "cocky" part because that would be rude. And also then he wouldn't be so willing to fish out the tadpole with the arms--which we were gonna ask him to do.

"Yeah, hi. Uh....can you please get us the tadpole with arms?" to which he just looks at us. He is not pleased.

But he grabs his net, and bless his wee Garden Center Dude soul, he scoops and scoops, and scoops again, trying to find us the little guy with the arms.  AND he did it with patience.  AND he found him and sent him home with us. And we were happy. And he didn't even mind that I was grilling him on if he knew what froglets ate--he got it wrong, btw.  (Answer: they don't eat--they absorb their tails for nutrients.) He loves me, that Garden Center Dude.

We haven't seen that darn Arms McGee (that's what I called that froglet) until this morning--and he is officially a FROG!  Skittish as all get out, those new frogs dart the minute they get scared, for there are lots of creatures that like to make meals out of little frogs. So, until I can sneak a photo of the wee dude, you all just have to trust me on this one--we have us a new frog.

I can almost hear Daisy singing "The Circle of Life". Hooray!

Living by Candlelight

After a busy week at work, Mother Nature sent me a nice reprieve last night--a storm hit around 9 p.m. and knocked out the power, including the computer.  And while that is my time to sit and visit with the pallies and post for the next day, I was forced into just relaxing.  Can't say that I was sad about having to just chill--I even went to bed at 10. 

After the inital "Oh NO!" reaction from losing power, I sort of like that hush of the house, the neighborhood.  It's funny how "loud" your house noise is--even when nobody is home.   But add up all those appliances and gadgets whirring in sync and it's amazing how much background noise we live with daily.

When the kids were little, they would freak out if we lost electricity--which I always found hilarious. I mean, here I was, creeped out by dinosaurs, those darn Wizard of Oz monkeys, and the kid catcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and they were freaked by no power.  I'm still wondering why that terrified them.  I mean, we went camping, in a tent, with no power, for a week each year--why would no power suddenly scare them? They're goofs.  Whatever.

So, there were sat last night, watching the light show and wondering what lights and TVs were left on when the house shut down.  I did a bit of shadow theater where "the dog" was trying to eat Joe's head--which I found hilarious, but he did not.  Em sat on the couch trying to determine whether the spider she found was on the inside or the outside of the window. Joe was messin' with the travel alarm clock so he could get up on time this morning, and Colin just wished we'd all go away.

We finally all gave up and just went to bed. I have no idea what time it finally went back on, but I did wake up in the middle of the night to find Hobbes in the family room with the TV and all the lights on, catching up on the latest sports scores.

Back to normal.  And the house is whirring again.