I Love Holidays. Can anyone else echo that statement? I realize that my Turkey Day post is belated. Sorry. But!
The fella and I traveled down to Southern Indiana to visit with my family. My brother was not quite the Turkey this year. His birthday is the 27th of November. I sort of can't believe the baby bro is 27. Someone tell me that doesn't make me old. Happy birthday baby bro. I hope you like Turkey and family!
Anyway! The family visit was fun. We didn't make a catapult this year, but the girl cousins and I went wedding dress shopping. I'm somewhat convinced I look horrible in white, and that I don't want to wear white. Pale people don't wear white well. But I gamely tried on white and cream colored dresses, and my lovely bridesmaid cousin tried on pretty colored stuff too. It was a good time. We found pretty dresses for the cousin, and not so pretty dresses for me. Neither of us purchased anything. At any rate! My voice of reason (AKA my other cousin) continued shopping after bridesmaid cousin and I gave up the ghost, ate pizza and went home to go mudding, with her sister in law. I don't know what they were shopping for, but they found lots of stuff.
So the "Voice of Reason" and her sister in law, found several dresses for me. They purchased them and brought them back to the farm! The "Voice of Reason" brought in 4 dresses for me, based on what I had tried on, and liked. Lo and behold, some of them were not me, such as the skin-tight blue vertical striped something something, but! She found something beautiful.
It's a black bodice, with accordian pleating, that is purple and red! Hard to describe, but exactly what I wanted. It also happened to ring up as a man's necktie. The grand total of said gorgeous dress was about 18 dollars. It might possibly be the prettiest thing I've ever owned.
After the shopping trip, and the outfall from the opinionated german aunts that my chosen dress wasn't white, we went back to our new house and cooked Thanksgiving dinner for the fella's family. Actually, I should give credit where it is due. I cooked a turkey and told everyone else to bring stuff. It worked out well, and a happy holiday was had. Even if the jazz cats weren't happy about being locked in the basement.
Cheers and hope your holiday was happy.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Happy Wednesday
Hello Loyal Readers. I almost wrote down gentle readers, but decided that if I started comparing myself to Miss Manners, I'd have to stop swearing. And I'm just not up to that today.
It's been a bit since I updated this. I blame either the fact that too much has happened, or that I'm scared to death of what is going to happen and don't want to write about it because then it will seem real.
If things go as planned, and contingency plans don't interfere - the fella and I are buying a house. It was built February 17, 1910. If everything goes well, we're totally having a birthday party for the house. Consider yourselves invited. We are supposed to close October 1 - and I keep getting a sick-like feeling every time I think about it. The contingency plans scare me. They might be plan A), they might be plan D. There's too much in the air right now.
Work is work. Nuff said. I could bore you with stories about how I screamed when I saw a giant 8 ft long snake try to eat my co-worker, or with how we found multiple dead bodies on the second floor of an abandoned house, but I'd be slightly (just slightly mind you) exaggerating - also the bodies were mostly rats and birds, so don't overly freak out. I've decided I need to present a "Good Job" award at the next office party. My plan is to put the pictures of all the gross stuff my co-workers and I have seen while in the field into a picture frame and present it to someone. I've got more pictures of nasty toilets than pictures of nasty spiders.
Wedding planning still blows, and I still have a secret wish for the Vegas thing. Although, I have to say, I discovered the beauty that is Ebay. I bought the coolest hat. It has a brim, and feathers coming off the back of it in a spray, and a half veil. I fully plan on taking it with me when I go dress shopping and sending the "bridal consultants" into conniption fits.
In addition to the February party, I'm planning a Guy Fawkes Party this year. Any kind of invite that starts off with burning people in effigy and fireworks can't be overly bad. Right? Heck, I'm kind of a party planning fool. "Remember, Remember, the 5th of November!"
I'm also turning 30 this year. That's the first time I've written that, and boy - it just made me feel old. So I figure I should have a birthday party. My fella tells me I'm not allowed to plan it, and that he's going to do something. I sort-of threatened to invite a ton of people over and dress up as Death (It helps that sentence if you remember I'm a halloween baby) and set up the keg and stand over it with a sickle. I still think it would be fun.
Cheers.
B
It's been a bit since I updated this. I blame either the fact that too much has happened, or that I'm scared to death of what is going to happen and don't want to write about it because then it will seem real.
If things go as planned, and contingency plans don't interfere - the fella and I are buying a house. It was built February 17, 1910. If everything goes well, we're totally having a birthday party for the house. Consider yourselves invited. We are supposed to close October 1 - and I keep getting a sick-like feeling every time I think about it. The contingency plans scare me. They might be plan A), they might be plan D. There's too much in the air right now.
Work is work. Nuff said. I could bore you with stories about how I screamed when I saw a giant 8 ft long snake try to eat my co-worker, or with how we found multiple dead bodies on the second floor of an abandoned house, but I'd be slightly (just slightly mind you) exaggerating - also the bodies were mostly rats and birds, so don't overly freak out. I've decided I need to present a "Good Job" award at the next office party. My plan is to put the pictures of all the gross stuff my co-workers and I have seen while in the field into a picture frame and present it to someone. I've got more pictures of nasty toilets than pictures of nasty spiders.
Wedding planning still blows, and I still have a secret wish for the Vegas thing. Although, I have to say, I discovered the beauty that is Ebay. I bought the coolest hat. It has a brim, and feathers coming off the back of it in a spray, and a half veil. I fully plan on taking it with me when I go dress shopping and sending the "bridal consultants" into conniption fits.
In addition to the February party, I'm planning a Guy Fawkes Party this year. Any kind of invite that starts off with burning people in effigy and fireworks can't be overly bad. Right? Heck, I'm kind of a party planning fool. "Remember, Remember, the 5th of November!"
I'm also turning 30 this year. That's the first time I've written that, and boy - it just made me feel old. So I figure I should have a birthday party. My fella tells me I'm not allowed to plan it, and that he's going to do something. I sort-of threatened to invite a ton of people over and dress up as Death (It helps that sentence if you remember I'm a halloween baby) and set up the keg and stand over it with a sickle. I still think it would be fun.
Cheers.
B
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Cooking adventures
Some good friends of mine had a baby two weeks ago. In celebration of said event, I decided to cook dinner for them and take it over. Nice, friendly thing to do, right? The fella and I discussed, found a day when we weren't too busy, and made plans for what to make. Well, I had a whole chicken in the freezer, so decided to do something with that.
I should add, when I moved in to my first apartment, my mom gave me a cookbook that she had put together in a three ring binder of recipes that the family makes and likes. One of these recipes in said book is "Coq a Vin". It looked delicious. It had chicken, mushrooms, red wine, and all kinds of other yummy stuff like garlic. Plus, you got to light things on fire. I was sold.
Well, I had to hack up a raw chicken. There's nothing quite like taking cold chicken carcass and cutting it into bits that you're planning on eating to gross you out. It's totally different cutting up a cooked chicken versus a raw one. If you've never had the experience, at least when it's cooked, it comes apart with out serious hacking, and has the texture of meat. It smells good too, like something you'd want to eat. Raw chicken has sinew, and bone, and feels like raw meat. I felt like a butcher. So I was already sort of revolted by the whole project when I started.
I don't know why I didn't expect it to be purple. I expected pretty looking chicken. In retrospect, of course it's purple. You stew everything in red wine. It didn't taste bad, I think it was just the process of cooking it that put me off. For all the world, it looked like something you'd see in a horror movie, complete with bloody looking bones sticking out of a pile of goo. I didn't take pictures of the final creation, but I'm attaching a video of the "Phwoosh" as the fella so aptly described it.
I have to admit, the fire part was cool. I was momentarily afraid our kitchen was going to catch on fire. Word to the wise, Brandy lights up easily and quickly when it's heated.
In other news, my sweater is 1/3 done! Keep your fingers crossed, maybe this one will actually fit...
I should add, when I moved in to my first apartment, my mom gave me a cookbook that she had put together in a three ring binder of recipes that the family makes and likes. One of these recipes in said book is "Coq a Vin". It looked delicious. It had chicken, mushrooms, red wine, and all kinds of other yummy stuff like garlic. Plus, you got to light things on fire. I was sold.
Well, I had to hack up a raw chicken. There's nothing quite like taking cold chicken carcass and cutting it into bits that you're planning on eating to gross you out. It's totally different cutting up a cooked chicken versus a raw one. If you've never had the experience, at least when it's cooked, it comes apart with out serious hacking, and has the texture of meat. It smells good too, like something you'd want to eat. Raw chicken has sinew, and bone, and feels like raw meat. I felt like a butcher. So I was already sort of revolted by the whole project when I started.
I don't know why I didn't expect it to be purple. I expected pretty looking chicken. In retrospect, of course it's purple. You stew everything in red wine. It didn't taste bad, I think it was just the process of cooking it that put me off. For all the world, it looked like something you'd see in a horror movie, complete with bloody looking bones sticking out of a pile of goo. I didn't take pictures of the final creation, but I'm attaching a video of the "Phwoosh" as the fella so aptly described it.
I have to admit, the fire part was cool. I was momentarily afraid our kitchen was going to catch on fire. Word to the wise, Brandy lights up easily and quickly when it's heated.
In other news, my sweater is 1/3 done! Keep your fingers crossed, maybe this one will actually fit...
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Happy Days
I've had a good day. It's a Sunday. I didn't have to go to work, and I slept late. So I was already pre-disposed to have a good day. Add to the aforementioned that I had a chance to visit with my parents, planted some flowers, and had a bit of knitting time, and you'll know that I had a good day.
So with the knitting thing - ... I should perhaps mention this is the third sweater I've attempted. The first, well, it's pink. It's pretty. It's this lovely mohair with a cotton blend. It also happens to fit my 6'8, 300 + lb brother. The second one, well, it's a lovely varigated wool. The body fits me, but the sleeves belong to the 6'8 brother. This current one! It's a wool / silk blend, and seems like it will fit. Keep your fingers crossed and maybe I'll post a picture of the "sweater that fits".
The parental visit. I carefully did not mention anything related to wedding plans. Have I mentioned I hate wedding planning? The fella and I had a meeting on Friday with our preferred venue, the public library. We thought, ok, perfect, reasonable cost for room rental, non-denominational = perfect for us, and the library, what can go wrong? I'll just tell you, 6,000.000 for catering, that can go wrong. That and the comment, "you're planning a classy Halloween theme wedding, I hope?"
Let me just say my ideal wedding does not include a grand entrance, or a cake cutting ceremony, or spending 163.00$ per person on catering, or anything resembling a perfect day. It involves the Bride of Frankenstein, Butterfly wings, and Luke Skywalker all in the same photo on a dance floor. Needless to say, we're looking at other options.
On the work front, someone please remind me to post about the brains in jars. It's worth its' own story, but I'm not up to it today. Too fresh in the memory.
We bought a bean bag chair! I know I'm totally anti-bringing stuff into the house right now theory, but the bean bag is totally comfortable. For a while though, I feared. It came in separate parts. These parts involved a nice black covering - totally necessary for the matching the apartment vibe. Anyway, the bean bag shipped with two separate vaccuum packed foam pouches. They were origionally about 2X4. I put them in the lovely black microsuade covering and let them sit. Let me tell you, those suckers grew. I feared for my carpeting, I feared for my live in fella, I feared for the entire side room. It kept growing. It's like the blob moved in. However, it is super comfortable. It's also stopped growing. I think.... I hope.... Arghhh! Help! I'm being swallowed...
In a side note - I hate wedding planning. This is all. Cheers! B.
So with the knitting thing - ... I should perhaps mention this is the third sweater I've attempted. The first, well, it's pink. It's pretty. It's this lovely mohair with a cotton blend. It also happens to fit my 6'8, 300 + lb brother. The second one, well, it's a lovely varigated wool. The body fits me, but the sleeves belong to the 6'8 brother. This current one! It's a wool / silk blend, and seems like it will fit. Keep your fingers crossed and maybe I'll post a picture of the "sweater that fits".
The parental visit. I carefully did not mention anything related to wedding plans. Have I mentioned I hate wedding planning? The fella and I had a meeting on Friday with our preferred venue, the public library. We thought, ok, perfect, reasonable cost for room rental, non-denominational = perfect for us, and the library, what can go wrong? I'll just tell you, 6,000.000 for catering, that can go wrong. That and the comment, "you're planning a classy Halloween theme wedding, I hope?"
Let me just say my ideal wedding does not include a grand entrance, or a cake cutting ceremony, or spending 163.00$ per person on catering, or anything resembling a perfect day. It involves the Bride of Frankenstein, Butterfly wings, and Luke Skywalker all in the same photo on a dance floor. Needless to say, we're looking at other options.
On the work front, someone please remind me to post about the brains in jars. It's worth its' own story, but I'm not up to it today. Too fresh in the memory.
We bought a bean bag chair! I know I'm totally anti-bringing stuff into the house right now theory, but the bean bag is totally comfortable. For a while though, I feared. It came in separate parts. These parts involved a nice black covering - totally necessary for the matching the apartment vibe. Anyway, the bean bag shipped with two separate vaccuum packed foam pouches. They were origionally about 2X4. I put them in the lovely black microsuade covering and let them sit. Let me tell you, those suckers grew. I feared for my carpeting, I feared for my live in fella, I feared for the entire side room. It kept growing. It's like the blob moved in. However, it is super comfortable. It's also stopped growing. I think.... I hope.... Arghhh! Help! I'm being swallowed...
In a side note - I hate wedding planning. This is all. Cheers! B.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Have you ever tried to start writing a story about something and gotten stuck on the opening line? Someone smart once told me to start in middle and work their way out. I guess that's what I'll do.
I went to a plumbing supply store today with one of my co-workers. We were doing some field work today on a remediation system. Big environmental sentence there for doing some work, and trying to break or not break things as the case required. Anyway, we needed to find some specific PVC pipe that they don't carry at Lowes. Yes, for all you skeptics and Lowes afficianados, there are items they do not carry.
Anyway, my co-worker and I waltz into this plumbing store in full field regalia. I'm talking several layers of clothing, hats, gloves, coveralls, and ugly hats. Sidebar, I've yet to meet a field person who doesn't own an ugly hat. My own is red, yellow and orange with earflaps. Back to my story.
We walk into the plumbing supply place, carrying a broken piece of PVC that was once a part of the remediation system and announce loudly that we need this piece, this piece and this piece. The plumbers look at us, look at the piece, look at us again and realize we're both female under all those layers. So immediately, they start offering their assistance, at a price, offering to call someone to help us put this item together with the pieces we purchase, and asking just what on earth it is we're going to do, and if we're going to do it ourselves.
My gregarious nature pops into play, and I start answering. Dialogue of the conversation went something like this.
Mister Friendly Plumber (MFP): Are you ladies certain you can put that together yourselves?
Me: Yep. Like we told our boss, we're not dumb girls. Besides, how hard can it be?
MFP: Who do you gals work for anyway?
Me: (looking at clothing of both self and co-worker printed with logo of company on both hats and sweatshirts) Erm...
MFP: What on earth is that wierd looking part for anyway?
Me: It's part of a remediation system.
MFP: Where from?
Me: Well, could be from anywhere. (note bene, clients don't like folks to mention that we're doing work at their sites if we're working with hazardous waste. Just as a general rule).
MFP: You mean you're buying something for someone else?
Me: Erm. No.
MFP: So you do know where that's going to go?
Me: Look, I'm trying to be cryptic and not tell you where this is going.
Am I smooth or what?
I went to a plumbing supply store today with one of my co-workers. We were doing some field work today on a remediation system. Big environmental sentence there for doing some work, and trying to break or not break things as the case required. Anyway, we needed to find some specific PVC pipe that they don't carry at Lowes. Yes, for all you skeptics and Lowes afficianados, there are items they do not carry.
Anyway, my co-worker and I waltz into this plumbing store in full field regalia. I'm talking several layers of clothing, hats, gloves, coveralls, and ugly hats. Sidebar, I've yet to meet a field person who doesn't own an ugly hat. My own is red, yellow and orange with earflaps. Back to my story.
We walk into the plumbing supply place, carrying a broken piece of PVC that was once a part of the remediation system and announce loudly that we need this piece, this piece and this piece. The plumbers look at us, look at the piece, look at us again and realize we're both female under all those layers. So immediately, they start offering their assistance, at a price, offering to call someone to help us put this item together with the pieces we purchase, and asking just what on earth it is we're going to do, and if we're going to do it ourselves.
My gregarious nature pops into play, and I start answering. Dialogue of the conversation went something like this.
Mister Friendly Plumber (MFP): Are you ladies certain you can put that together yourselves?
Me: Yep. Like we told our boss, we're not dumb girls. Besides, how hard can it be?
MFP: Who do you gals work for anyway?
Me: (looking at clothing of both self and co-worker printed with logo of company on both hats and sweatshirts) Erm...
MFP: What on earth is that wierd looking part for anyway?
Me: It's part of a remediation system.
MFP: Where from?
Me: Well, could be from anywhere. (note bene, clients don't like folks to mention that we're doing work at their sites if we're working with hazardous waste. Just as a general rule).
MFP: You mean you're buying something for someone else?
Me: Erm. No.
MFP: So you do know where that's going to go?
Me: Look, I'm trying to be cryptic and not tell you where this is going.
Am I smooth or what?
Friday, February 6, 2009
Sseji's Fault
So this whole thing is Sseji's fault. I used to keep a blog. It was several years ago, and I detailed all sorts of adventures. I regaled my fans with tales of turtle terror, mistaken identity, lost hijinks and other explorations generally worthy of being explained sampled by a soap opera. Somewhere, within the bowels of the internet, this blog is still in existence. Don't ask me where.
Anyway, Sseji started her blog, and I have to admit I'm jealous. She has pictures, and pretty things. So I thought to myself, Self, you could do that again. So here we go. I think I'm just going to start in the middle and work my way out. That seems to be the best possible option.
The Boy and I have a new kitten. His name is Dante, after either Clerks or the Divine Comedy, take your pick. I was lobbying for Louis, to go along with the other Jazz Cats, Ella and Billie, but I was overruled. Anyway, Dante is black, with a tiny white fu man chu, (sorry, spelling of men's facial hair specialties isn't mine), and tiny tufts of white sticking out of his ears. His current favorite occupations are pouncing, snuggling, harassing the Jazz Cats, and eating, not necessarily in that order.
In other news, I have to go to a baby shower this weekend. Of all the little parties that a female is required to go to, ie tupperware parties, dinner parties, wedding showers, etc, I hate baby showers the most. I even like the person who's shower I'm going to, but the idea of sitting in a crowded, invariably hot, room playing games that went out of fashion in the 40s and talking about vagina's with your relatives is not my idea of a grand time. Add in to this the idea that you're supposed to dress nicely, eat bad cake from a paper plate that's bound to, if you're a klutz like me, fall, break, tear, what have you and spill all over your nice dress that has to be dry cleaned, plus buy a present? You've got to be kidding me. Like I said, least favorite thing.
Cheers!
Anyway, Sseji started her blog, and I have to admit I'm jealous. She has pictures, and pretty things. So I thought to myself, Self, you could do that again. So here we go. I think I'm just going to start in the middle and work my way out. That seems to be the best possible option.
The Boy and I have a new kitten. His name is Dante, after either Clerks or the Divine Comedy, take your pick. I was lobbying for Louis, to go along with the other Jazz Cats, Ella and Billie, but I was overruled. Anyway, Dante is black, with a tiny white fu man chu, (sorry, spelling of men's facial hair specialties isn't mine), and tiny tufts of white sticking out of his ears. His current favorite occupations are pouncing, snuggling, harassing the Jazz Cats, and eating, not necessarily in that order.
In other news, I have to go to a baby shower this weekend. Of all the little parties that a female is required to go to, ie tupperware parties, dinner parties, wedding showers, etc, I hate baby showers the most. I even like the person who's shower I'm going to, but the idea of sitting in a crowded, invariably hot, room playing games that went out of fashion in the 40s and talking about vagina's with your relatives is not my idea of a grand time. Add in to this the idea that you're supposed to dress nicely, eat bad cake from a paper plate that's bound to, if you're a klutz like me, fall, break, tear, what have you and spill all over your nice dress that has to be dry cleaned, plus buy a present? You've got to be kidding me. Like I said, least favorite thing.
Cheers!
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