Click to see bigger.
Progress:
After the imposter had squandered the last of his wishes, the unassuming, ancient mage delighted himself with home brewed swamp magic.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Sketch o' the Day ~ The Frog's Prince
Click to see bigger.
Progress:
After the imposter had squandered the last of his wishes, the unassuming, ancient mage delighted himself with home brewed swamp magic.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Wanting What You've Got
Here's the stuff that meme's are made of:
1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first article title on the page is the name of your band.
2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.
3. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/
The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
Squish them all together like a sandwich, post it, and you've got an instant hit single from a band that never was. (But perhaps in fact one day might be!)
Found via This Boy Elroy & Gooster.
1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first article title on the page is the name of your band.
2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.
3. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/
The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
Squish them all together like a sandwich, post it, and you've got an instant hit single from a band that never was. (But perhaps in fact one day might be!)
Found via This Boy Elroy & Gooster.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
12 of 12: Jan '08 Edition
This marks the beginning of the third year for Chad Darnell's 12 of 12 Project. Please go and look and love and play along next month.
Pizza for breakfast. On a bagel of course. So that you can have pizza anytime. UPDATE: This is stuck on loop in my head.
It was upon further inspection that the headless man was 30% off on clearance.
Um. Exschuze me? Is that One-bacca or Chewbacca in this picture?
...We've been over this. Do you really think I'm suicidal enough to buy you something called Ginseng Energy Infusion?
Today has been brought to you by an unexpected new camera. Used by a man wearing unexpected new sunglasses. His people know how to treat him right.
A reading of the world's words.
An origami afternoon.
How you doin'?
Younger Monkey now in the compact travel size.
Some techniques simply aren't in Mama Fu's guide to chopstick etiquette. Just don't stick them straight up in your rice bowl.
Lightsaber practice is best after nightfall.
The best way to end a day.
Pizza for breakfast. On a bagel of course. So that you can have pizza anytime. UPDATE: This is stuck on loop in my head.
It was upon further inspection that the headless man was 30% off on clearance.
Um. Exschuze me? Is that One-bacca or Chewbacca in this picture?
...We've been over this. Do you really think I'm suicidal enough to buy you something called Ginseng Energy Infusion?
Today has been brought to you by an unexpected new camera. Used by a man wearing unexpected new sunglasses. His people know how to treat him right.
A reading of the world's words.
An origami afternoon.
How you doin'?
Younger Monkey now in the compact travel size.
Some techniques simply aren't in Mama Fu's guide to chopstick etiquette. Just don't stick them straight up in your rice bowl.
Lightsaber practice is best after nightfall.
The best way to end a day.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Thursday, January 03, 2008
A Table of Contents
My grandpa, who was 90 years of age, passed away today.
That means he was 60 when I was born and he knew me for a third of his lifespan. Although the evidence that was laid out before us on the cafeteria table proved that I did not know him well at all.
There before us, were the contents of his wallet. We had disassembled it carefully to find all the necessary items, a bright collage of medical contacts, credit cards, and photographs. Among all this was a piece of cardboard containing a small notch cut out, a space big enough so that his failing eyes and fingers could write his name out in a contained fashion. My uncle decided to take these for his own ailing writing abilities.
No one cared to claim the carefully folded 5 and 1 dollar bills.
I took the opportunity to investigate the card of a woman with an area telephone code that had changed long ago. She was no longer the contact but more than likely the one who sold him the Simplicity Plan: cremation, all paid in advance, although no memorial service arrangements, which will be discussed tomorrow morning upon our meeting with them. The lady I did talk to was coincidentally about to give my uncle a call. Sitting right next to me, he has never and never will use a cell phone, and so I gladly made all the connections.
After all these things were removed, and all the information extracted and parsed, mom looked at the leather container with it's empty pockets, and began one of many instances of not being able to talk.
When we had arrived at the hospital earlier, my uncle appeared in the door on the second floor and led us down the hall where I saw him for about 30 seconds, in a brightly lit room. The static of apparatuses were still filling the air but it was clear that their functions had come to an end.
And so, as it had earlier in the day, the shaking resumed it's course. Mom's heartbeat raced to an odd more desperate meter all it's own. Voices trembled, hands rumbled, eyes glistened as if they were no longer solid forms in the head but bags of liquid, taut and weak and ready to melt away.
I kept waiting for it to hit me, as it had my sister, so far away from here. As it did my uncle, the trembling giant in blue plaid. As it did my for grandpa's lady, who was not his wife, but in every sense was more so than many married couples I can recall. As it did for her, who had heard all the machines began to beep and whir, assuming the worst and causing us to think he had expired earlier in the day.
The time, of course, did not matter.
But the feeling of sadness never arrived. In it's place, where others found distress, I found solace in that perfect distillation of a moment where he lay. I was at ease to find him finally at ease.
That means he was 60 when I was born and he knew me for a third of his lifespan. Although the evidence that was laid out before us on the cafeteria table proved that I did not know him well at all.
There before us, were the contents of his wallet. We had disassembled it carefully to find all the necessary items, a bright collage of medical contacts, credit cards, and photographs. Among all this was a piece of cardboard containing a small notch cut out, a space big enough so that his failing eyes and fingers could write his name out in a contained fashion. My uncle decided to take these for his own ailing writing abilities.
No one cared to claim the carefully folded 5 and 1 dollar bills.
I took the opportunity to investigate the card of a woman with an area telephone code that had changed long ago. She was no longer the contact but more than likely the one who sold him the Simplicity Plan: cremation, all paid in advance, although no memorial service arrangements, which will be discussed tomorrow morning upon our meeting with them. The lady I did talk to was coincidentally about to give my uncle a call. Sitting right next to me, he has never and never will use a cell phone, and so I gladly made all the connections.
After all these things were removed, and all the information extracted and parsed, mom looked at the leather container with it's empty pockets, and began one of many instances of not being able to talk.
When we had arrived at the hospital earlier, my uncle appeared in the door on the second floor and led us down the hall where I saw him for about 30 seconds, in a brightly lit room. The static of apparatuses were still filling the air but it was clear that their functions had come to an end.
And so, as it had earlier in the day, the shaking resumed it's course. Mom's heartbeat raced to an odd more desperate meter all it's own. Voices trembled, hands rumbled, eyes glistened as if they were no longer solid forms in the head but bags of liquid, taut and weak and ready to melt away.
I kept waiting for it to hit me, as it had my sister, so far away from here. As it did my uncle, the trembling giant in blue plaid. As it did my for grandpa's lady, who was not his wife, but in every sense was more so than many married couples I can recall. As it did for her, who had heard all the machines began to beep and whir, assuming the worst and causing us to think he had expired earlier in the day.
The time, of course, did not matter.
But the feeling of sadness never arrived. In it's place, where others found distress, I found solace in that perfect distillation of a moment where he lay. I was at ease to find him finally at ease.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
What Day Is It? (Can You Please Tell Me)
The cold air swirling around suddenly took a gusty nose dive last evening and hasn't stopped yet.
Back to the grind, since yesterday's Tuesday felt like the new Sunday, today's Wednesday was totally the new Monday. Which means hopefully by next Saturday I'll be completely off and it'll actually be mid-July sometime. Maybe by next July I'll have the inventory straightened out at work.
It took concerted effort to write out the date correctly all day. Luckily, I learned you can split 12 into 1/2 and I can disguise an 07 as 08 with some cursive-ness, but tomorrow I must get with it or I shall be screwed.
I found a new site (thanks to eavesdropping on justinfeed and thisboyelroy) called Gyminee. I'm not sure what I expect out of working out these days, so I am hoping this will give me a little focus. Suffice to say it is a schizophrenic beast to tame and I can use all the help I can get. If anyone wants to come down here and stand on my head while I do pushups, please be my guest.
Mom seems to be fairing okay today, regardless of what she may say. She does go from complete logic to tears in an instant, but it's not out of control. No change in grandpa, but she spent the day discussing arrangements for a memorial.
Luckily for her, I am an endless source of amusement in all of my constant scatterbrained mess that I gravitate towards. I'm kind of like a malfunctioning katamari ball. My brand of clean is where the socks never match but at least they are in the same drawer. If they make it to the drawer. My room is a perfectly organized version of disorderly stacks, that occasionally fall over when they get too high or whenever someone tries to get out of bed, whichever comes first.
In fact I may need to put some more socks on right now. Meanwhile, I am on day three of onion soup because it now really is soup weather. I can only imagine if it's actually cold here what it's like for the rest of the country. Stay warm, darlings.
Back to the grind, since yesterday's Tuesday felt like the new Sunday, today's Wednesday was totally the new Monday. Which means hopefully by next Saturday I'll be completely off and it'll actually be mid-July sometime. Maybe by next July I'll have the inventory straightened out at work.
It took concerted effort to write out the date correctly all day. Luckily, I learned you can split 12 into 1/2 and I can disguise an 07 as 08 with some cursive-ness, but tomorrow I must get with it or I shall be screwed.
I found a new site (thanks to eavesdropping on justinfeed and thisboyelroy) called Gyminee. I'm not sure what I expect out of working out these days, so I am hoping this will give me a little focus. Suffice to say it is a schizophrenic beast to tame and I can use all the help I can get. If anyone wants to come down here and stand on my head while I do pushups, please be my guest.
Mom seems to be fairing okay today, regardless of what she may say. She does go from complete logic to tears in an instant, but it's not out of control. No change in grandpa, but she spent the day discussing arrangements for a memorial.
Luckily for her, I am an endless source of amusement in all of my constant scatterbrained mess that I gravitate towards. I'm kind of like a malfunctioning katamari ball. My brand of clean is where the socks never match but at least they are in the same drawer. If they make it to the drawer. My room is a perfectly organized version of disorderly stacks, that occasionally fall over when they get too high or whenever someone tries to get out of bed, whichever comes first.
In fact I may need to put some more socks on right now. Meanwhile, I am on day three of onion soup because it now really is soup weather. I can only imagine if it's actually cold here what it's like for the rest of the country. Stay warm, darlings.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
All is Quiet
Welcome to 2008.
The weather today has finally emerged from the sluggish fog into clearer, zippy chills.
I awoke with the boyfriend and we were snugly until ten. We rarely get to sleep in together. One of us is always off to other required things; work, monkeys, moms etc. We drove around for a while and ended up at Cracker Barrel. I realize that I must be very much infatuated and agreeable with the man, because I'm not particularly fond of Cracker Barrel and we ended up in the same place last year on New Years Day. Like a proper fallen vegetarian, I got the meatloaf, potatoes and fried okra.
Afterwards he had a bug to buy some new games. I can't remember what all he got as I was concentrated on the Wii demo in the store. I haven't actually seen one in real life yet so I took the opportunity to try out Super Mario Galaxy. After feeling extremely uncoordinated and old, it then broke, which is why I suspect I never see one on demo.
We continued on to the citrus store down the street, a triumph of Florida tourism if ever there was one. Here in this warehouse, next to where actual oranges and other fruits of paradise once grew, you can see how they were washed and waxed and ready for their close-ups.
The warehouse is now populated by a display featuring shiny plastic mannequin workers with thousands of plastic orange balls which I can only assume are washed with plastic water. But only after everyone has gone home and you say the magic words "hocus pocus alimagocus!"
Today's Special is: Oranges.
After we came home, we drank tangerine juice and I kissed him goodbye for the evening.
The chill has now crept into the house so I'm eating leftover onion soup the boyfriend made yesterday. Mom is sitting here watching her slug TV, as she calls it, keeping me apprised on the status of the $76,000 kitchen and wondering if I'm going to be putting away the lonely piece of bread I left on the kitchen counter. It's what she does.
Her dad, my grandpa, is in the hospital with pneumonia. It didn't start out that way two weeks ago, but it seems to happen with a lot of elderly folks. They'll go in for some pain or another, and then "tests" stir things up. He's now down to life support with a DNR order. It's probably as it should be.
I kept wondering if he'd go last night in some moment of poetic coincidence, passing along with the year that had now expired. This morning showed no change. A new day dawning is just another day no matter the date attached. I don't know if I'll see him again as I expect it won't be long now. I do hope all is quiet for him soon.
I'll always remember that my grandpa told me, when he gave me my orange tree as a sapling, that the cold snaps are good for the oranges. I fear it's a little too late for my already ripened crop this year. The majority of them on the tree went from green straight to brownish. I did manage to gather some and they are still tasty.
The weather today has finally emerged from the sluggish fog into clearer, zippy chills.
I awoke with the boyfriend and we were snugly until ten. We rarely get to sleep in together. One of us is always off to other required things; work, monkeys, moms etc. We drove around for a while and ended up at Cracker Barrel. I realize that I must be very much infatuated and agreeable with the man, because I'm not particularly fond of Cracker Barrel and we ended up in the same place last year on New Years Day. Like a proper fallen vegetarian, I got the meatloaf, potatoes and fried okra.
Afterwards he had a bug to buy some new games. I can't remember what all he got as I was concentrated on the Wii demo in the store. I haven't actually seen one in real life yet so I took the opportunity to try out Super Mario Galaxy. After feeling extremely uncoordinated and old, it then broke, which is why I suspect I never see one on demo.
We continued on to the citrus store down the street, a triumph of Florida tourism if ever there was one. Here in this warehouse, next to where actual oranges and other fruits of paradise once grew, you can see how they were washed and waxed and ready for their close-ups.
The warehouse is now populated by a display featuring shiny plastic mannequin workers with thousands of plastic orange balls which I can only assume are washed with plastic water. But only after everyone has gone home and you say the magic words "hocus pocus alimagocus!"
Today's Special is: Oranges.
After we came home, we drank tangerine juice and I kissed him goodbye for the evening.
The chill has now crept into the house so I'm eating leftover onion soup the boyfriend made yesterday. Mom is sitting here watching her slug TV, as she calls it, keeping me apprised on the status of the $76,000 kitchen and wondering if I'm going to be putting away the lonely piece of bread I left on the kitchen counter. It's what she does.
Her dad, my grandpa, is in the hospital with pneumonia. It didn't start out that way two weeks ago, but it seems to happen with a lot of elderly folks. They'll go in for some pain or another, and then "tests" stir things up. He's now down to life support with a DNR order. It's probably as it should be.
I kept wondering if he'd go last night in some moment of poetic coincidence, passing along with the year that had now expired. This morning showed no change. A new day dawning is just another day no matter the date attached. I don't know if I'll see him again as I expect it won't be long now. I do hope all is quiet for him soon.
I'll always remember that my grandpa told me, when he gave me my orange tree as a sapling, that the cold snaps are good for the oranges. I fear it's a little too late for my already ripened crop this year. The majority of them on the tree went from green straight to brownish. I did manage to gather some and they are still tasty.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
PooDoo, Revisited
On Christmas Eve, I popped in Animal Crossing on the trusty GameCube for the first time in 41 months.
I know it's been this long because when you talk to the residents of our town, which we named PooDoo, they are either shocked, delighted or appalled that I haven't been around for 41 months. In the mean time, weeds have overgrown, mail has jammed up the post office, I've forgotten who I was supposed to be delivering the comic book to, and many neighbors have either moved out, starved to death or committed seppuku. And the roaches have come. Many of them. My fishing rod has also mysteriously vanished. One can only speculate.
Alas, disaster has befallen our sister town of Oz, which was residing on another memory card (each sold separately!), but reported as corrupt when trying to get there by train. I can assume that means inner political turmoil or some such mess.
Some things are the same as sweet Daisy is still there, as is Twiggy and Liz, and all the resident felines Kitty, Punchy, and Bangle. Ed and Tom are still in town and they were conspicuously not at home at the same time. I always suspected one or the other was hitting on me. So it's highly suspect that perhaps they found love or at least a hook up. I mean, one of them is literally a horse.
Not surprisingly, I've still never paid off my house (in the game or otherwise). I should have known better than to get a loan from a Tanuki. If only I could sell my junk in real life I'd be set. It's been so long that my then wife was playing, paid off her house, had time to start another game, paid off that house and was still writing me love notes. She always did beat me at all video games.
What have I been doing lately in the real world? Oh, that's not really all that important. I also can't remember exactly. But then that's what twitter is for, right?
I may have left some Negative Nancy comments on a blog or two and I apologize if that was yours in my wake. I'm realizing now that I need to go into social hibernation during the holidays, at least on the internet, instead of trying to pretend to like it. It just makes me ranty and/or depressed. Some years are better than others. And there's just no soothing ointment good for that kind of irritation. But moving on, as I have tried to...
Monkeys have discovered the game and since it's all reading, I say, score! However, I do have to restrain the Elder Monkey from wildly cutting down all the trees in sight. Give a boy a golden axe and suddenly he's Paul Bunyan.
Oh and just an FYI, I expect we'll be occupied at 8 o'clock PM for quite a few Saturday evenings to come listening to the complete K.K. Slider repertoire.
I know it's been this long because when you talk to the residents of our town, which we named PooDoo, they are either shocked, delighted or appalled that I haven't been around for 41 months. In the mean time, weeds have overgrown, mail has jammed up the post office, I've forgotten who I was supposed to be delivering the comic book to, and many neighbors have either moved out, starved to death or committed seppuku. And the roaches have come. Many of them. My fishing rod has also mysteriously vanished. One can only speculate.
Alas, disaster has befallen our sister town of Oz, which was residing on another memory card (each sold separately!), but reported as corrupt when trying to get there by train. I can assume that means inner political turmoil or some such mess.
Some things are the same as sweet Daisy is still there, as is Twiggy and Liz, and all the resident felines Kitty, Punchy, and Bangle. Ed and Tom are still in town and they were conspicuously not at home at the same time. I always suspected one or the other was hitting on me. So it's highly suspect that perhaps they found love or at least a hook up. I mean, one of them is literally a horse.
Not surprisingly, I've still never paid off my house (in the game or otherwise). I should have known better than to get a loan from a Tanuki. If only I could sell my junk in real life I'd be set. It's been so long that my then wife was playing, paid off her house, had time to start another game, paid off that house and was still writing me love notes. She always did beat me at all video games.
What have I been doing lately in the real world? Oh, that's not really all that important. I also can't remember exactly. But then that's what twitter is for, right?
I may have left some Negative Nancy comments on a blog or two and I apologize if that was yours in my wake. I'm realizing now that I need to go into social hibernation during the holidays, at least on the internet, instead of trying to pretend to like it. It just makes me ranty and/or depressed. Some years are better than others. And there's just no soothing ointment good for that kind of irritation. But moving on, as I have tried to...
Monkeys have discovered the game and since it's all reading, I say, score! However, I do have to restrain the Elder Monkey from wildly cutting down all the trees in sight. Give a boy a golden axe and suddenly he's Paul Bunyan.
Oh and just an FYI, I expect we'll be occupied at 8 o'clock PM for quite a few Saturday evenings to come listening to the complete K.K. Slider repertoire.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Food Fight
Where exactly was life before YouTube.
I was going to wait and send this around on Turkey Day along with in depth commentary about the evils of suburban over-consumption and the general modern era lack of respect for the food chain.
However, I'm going to forego all that as instead I've watched it 20 times in a row and I'm at the point where I need an inhaler to breathe because I've laughed so hard. Vegetarian's might want totake a deep breath first avert their eyes elsewhere.
Bascially, I blame mom (mom's edit: It's not my fault!), for pointing it out to me, having nothing better to do than watch HGTV all day, every day. We'll get into her remodeling plans later for my house (mom's edit: Oh, do I have plans for this house!).
But, wait! Bonus features!
Firstly, I'm sure many of you wouldn't mind being the turkey in this scenario.
Also, it would be remiss not point out the oddity of top hit "Women's Sumo Wrestling" in the Related Videos section.
(mom's edit: Aren't you done yet? I need to go to the grocery store! No turkeys on the menu.)
I was going to wait and send this around on Turkey Day along with in depth commentary about the evils of suburban over-consumption and the general modern era lack of respect for the food chain.
However, I'm going to forego all that as instead I've watched it 20 times in a row and I'm at the point where I need an inhaler to breathe because I've laughed so hard. Vegetarian's might want to
Bascially, I blame mom (mom's edit: It's not my fault!), for pointing it out to me, having nothing better to do than watch HGTV all day, every day. We'll get into her remodeling plans later for my house (mom's edit: Oh, do I have plans for this house!).
But, wait! Bonus features!
Firstly, I'm sure many of you wouldn't mind being the turkey in this scenario.
Also, it would be remiss not point out the oddity of top hit "Women's Sumo Wrestling" in the Related Videos section.
(mom's edit: Aren't you done yet? I need to go to the grocery store! No turkeys on the menu.)
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Candymen
Somehow, it's November. Time to crack some knuckles and take some names.
I have no idea what that means but I'll probably never get a chance to use it in real life so I'm getting it out of the way now.
I would have pictures to show you of the Halloweenies of yesterday but my camera is broke. So we'll just have to pretend (which is rather appropriate).
Elder Monkey was a Wolverine, complete with claws that kept getting in the way and mask that was way too itchy. Also the night before he realized he actually wanted to be Elvis. We thought perhaps if you combine the two he'd be going as Wolvis. Or Elverine. Or, basically, Hugh Jackman. And his catch phrase would be "Uh-huh, thank-ya-very-much, Bub." Snikt.
Younger Monkey was a Buzz Lightyear, for the second time, only it was a full-fledged outfit complete with inflatable jetpack with wings. Now that he is an uber-social (super)butterfly, he also feels the need to announce his presence at every door when knocking. Because not only does he want your treat, but also if he can come into your home, watch TV, be your best friend or ask the nice Filipino man across the street if he knows any Spanish. And then knock you over unintentionally with his inflatable purple wings.
Oh and his "helmet" made him look like Patsy.
Generally I write off Halloween and I do not dress up. Although Elder Monkey had to make the suggestion that I should be 007. Leave it to him to think of the one guise I would totally get into. We shall see.
I have no idea what that means but I'll probably never get a chance to use it in real life so I'm getting it out of the way now.
I would have pictures to show you of the Halloweenies of yesterday but my camera is broke. So we'll just have to pretend (which is rather appropriate).
Elder Monkey was a Wolverine, complete with claws that kept getting in the way and mask that was way too itchy. Also the night before he realized he actually wanted to be Elvis. We thought perhaps if you combine the two he'd be going as Wolvis. Or Elverine. Or, basically, Hugh Jackman. And his catch phrase would be "Uh-huh, thank-ya-very-much, Bub." Snikt.
Younger Monkey was a Buzz Lightyear, for the second time, only it was a full-fledged outfit complete with inflatable jetpack with wings. Now that he is an uber-social (super)butterfly, he also feels the need to announce his presence at every door when knocking. Because not only does he want your treat, but also if he can come into your home, watch TV, be your best friend or ask the nice Filipino man across the street if he knows any Spanish. And then knock you over unintentionally with his inflatable purple wings.
Oh and his "helmet" made him look like Patsy.
Generally I write off Halloween and I do not dress up. Although Elder Monkey had to make the suggestion that I should be 007. Leave it to him to think of the one guise I would totally get into. We shall see.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Wanted: Hot Straight Boyfriend
Not for me, silly. For my ex-wife.
I'm totally serious.
But they would need to go through me first for some training and verification of orientation. Because otherwise someone needs to love that woman the way that, um, apparently only a gay man can.
Example: When on a date and she asks if you like the shirt she is wearing, do not answer with "Do you like the shirt you are wearing?" And when she says "Not really." do not at that point say "Well, there you go then."
Especially when I already told her she looked fine in the shirt she was wearing.
This will only send her home, forlorn looking, put her head on my shoulder and then promptly renew her Netflix account to resign her to watching things like Evan Almighty and Donnie Brasco back to back.
I'm totally serious.
But they would need to go through me first for some training and verification of orientation. Because otherwise someone needs to love that woman the way that, um, apparently only a gay man can.
Example: When on a date and she asks if you like the shirt she is wearing, do not answer with "Do you like the shirt you are wearing?" And when she says "Not really." do not at that point say "Well, there you go then."
Especially when I already told her she looked fine in the shirt she was wearing.
This will only send her home, forlorn looking, put her head on my shoulder and then promptly renew her Netflix account to resign her to watching things like Evan Almighty and Donnie Brasco back to back.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
You Probably Had To Be There
Sitting on the green on a Saturday twilight while the orchestra plays to the breeze.
Me: Massaging C's shoulders. Deeply.
C: Gives F the thumbs up.
F: Sigh (half wistful, half annoyed). I wish I had someone to massage me.
C: G isn't looking very busy over there.
G: I'm actually doing my Kegel's at the moment.
Orchestra: Cue the 1812 Overture with fireworks.
Me: Massaging C's shoulders. Deeply.
C: Gives F the thumbs up.
F: Sigh (half wistful, half annoyed). I wish I had someone to massage me.
C: G isn't looking very busy over there.
G: I'm actually doing my Kegel's at the moment.
Orchestra: Cue the 1812 Overture with fireworks.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Day Off Not Off Day
All the recent cleaning and hacking and expulsion of mold particles caught up with me yesterday when I woke up so I decided to take the day off work and proceeded to do absolutely nothing.
I felt better pretty much within the morning but, gee, I seemed to have misplaced my pants and car keys. What really is one to do? So I catch up with a few important details like perusing blogs, eating hard boiled eggs and watching Dancing Spiderman (and friends!). Everyone should watch Dancing Spiderman. Go ahead I'll wait.
I got to greet monkeys when the bus came home, my dad and step-mom came over for while and then the boyfriend brought dinner over.
Later, we went to Target to purchase a cast-iron dutch oven that only Target carries (on sale!). I had one to offer him, but since this particular model was highly recommended by America's Test Kitchen it's the only one he'd bother with. Kitchen items are his toys. Not surprisingly, everything he has cooked has always hit the right notes and I am surprised I'm not more chunky. Maybe since I get to carry heavy things like dutch ovens. I must also remember this if I ever need to knock someone out from above. You never know.
I intended to end the evening early but my bedroom was still waiting for aid from FEMA. So, I stayed up until the wee morning hours reclaiming my territory and I'm having feelings that the end of the mess is nigh! Either that or I'm having gas.
Unfortunately, I may have cleaned too well as I still can't find my car keys.
I felt better pretty much within the morning but, gee, I seemed to have misplaced my pants and car keys. What really is one to do? So I catch up with a few important details like perusing blogs, eating hard boiled eggs and watching Dancing Spiderman (and friends!). Everyone should watch Dancing Spiderman. Go ahead I'll wait.
I got to greet monkeys when the bus came home, my dad and step-mom came over for while and then the boyfriend brought dinner over.
Later, we went to Target to purchase a cast-iron dutch oven that only Target carries (on sale!). I had one to offer him, but since this particular model was highly recommended by America's Test Kitchen it's the only one he'd bother with. Kitchen items are his toys. Not surprisingly, everything he has cooked has always hit the right notes and I am surprised I'm not more chunky. Maybe since I get to carry heavy things like dutch ovens. I must also remember this if I ever need to knock someone out from above. You never know.
I intended to end the evening early but my bedroom was still waiting for aid from FEMA. So, I stayed up until the wee morning hours reclaiming my territory and I'm having feelings that the end of the mess is nigh! Either that or I'm having gas.
Unfortunately, I may have cleaned too well as I still can't find my car keys.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Beyond Pottydome
Even though the Younger Monkey has been out of diapers for quite some time now, that doesn't mean there is a lack of potty adventures at hand. Grandma reports that yesterday for example, they both had to go No. 2 at the last minute and at the same time on the same toilet. We'll just say, two men enter, one man leaves.
Remember Shimajiro, the potty training tiger? He's back to show us how to use a public toilet in Japan!
(Also, this further affirms my theory that what is safe for Asian children may or may not be safe for work. Or the unchiphobic.)
via JapanSugoi
Remember Shimajiro, the potty training tiger? He's back to show us how to use a public toilet in Japan!
(Also, this further affirms my theory that what is safe for Asian children may or may not be safe for work. Or the unchiphobic.)
via JapanSugoi
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
If You Play Halo You're Probably Not Reading This
Often I am numb to the level of geekery that permeates my daily life. It did not strike me as odd, for instance, when all the work was mysteriously done and most of the company left early for the day. To go home and play Halo 3.
Except for me. Instead I went to the boyfriend's home and had baked beans on toast for dinner. Priorities, people.
Except for me. Instead I went to the boyfriend's home and had baked beans on toast for dinner. Priorities, people.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Mr. Clean Is Coming To Town
It wouldn't have mattered how today went at work and it would still have been a good day since upon my arrival I had forgotten that I cleaned my desk off Friday before I left. It was a glorious sight. Coming home however was another matter as I'm still shredding my life away. I am being diligent though and the end is within my grubby grasp.
I spent yesterday wondering if I was having mere allergies or if i was getting sick. I had played tonsil hockey with a certain someone that morning and he was having all kinds of guilt about giving me a cold. I s'pose those are the risks when you haven't made out with your sweetie for a week. To set his mind at ease, I can now confirm it is something in this particular bin of paper I'm going through. Some kind of long dormant spores have been flung into the ether as I was fine all day and now my eyes burn. They buuuuuuuurn.
I can hear mom laughing at me when I start my bathroom monologue about why we as humans have so much mucus. Just where does it all come from and why must I swim in it? It was flinging everywhere like a frog's tongue catching flies. Her amusement at my trials is not an unusual occurrence. I might be doing it more on purpose now since it cheers her up.
In true form, this being the last batch of papers (I hope, I pray) I finally found my social security card at the bottom. People scoff when I don't simply dump everything in a monstrous purge and start over but it's for these items I know I can't do that. I originally went to go get a new one for the Target job but after waiting three hours in the social security office I simply had to leave. It was a scary place and I must be sure never to lose it for good.
By the way, I'm still waffling on the Cub Scouts. Elder Monkey most certainly wants to do it and I may just be worrying too much about the whole thing. He really does need something like this.
I spent yesterday wondering if I was having mere allergies or if i was getting sick. I had played tonsil hockey with a certain someone that morning and he was having all kinds of guilt about giving me a cold. I s'pose those are the risks when you haven't made out with your sweetie for a week. To set his mind at ease, I can now confirm it is something in this particular bin of paper I'm going through. Some kind of long dormant spores have been flung into the ether as I was fine all day and now my eyes burn. They buuuuuuuurn.
I can hear mom laughing at me when I start my bathroom monologue about why we as humans have so much mucus. Just where does it all come from and why must I swim in it? It was flinging everywhere like a frog's tongue catching flies. Her amusement at my trials is not an unusual occurrence. I might be doing it more on purpose now since it cheers her up.
In true form, this being the last batch of papers (I hope, I pray) I finally found my social security card at the bottom. People scoff when I don't simply dump everything in a monstrous purge and start over but it's for these items I know I can't do that. I originally went to go get a new one for the Target job but after waiting three hours in the social security office I simply had to leave. It was a scary place and I must be sure never to lose it for good.
By the way, I'm still waffling on the Cub Scouts. Elder Monkey most certainly wants to do it and I may just be worrying too much about the whole thing. He really does need something like this.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Don't Touch the Precious Things
Since I am also known as Mom's Taxi Service she is pretty much housebound all week when I am not around. So I try to find things that need done to be sure she gets out on weekends.
It hasn't been a problem lately as she's been downsizing her items as well. The weekends have been filled with several trips to the Goodwill, trading in DVDs, donating to the library. Today was all about finding a new refrigerator that won't randomly freeze the lettuce overnight and to search for new pants. I have no idea if these things are related.
We found a prospective fridge at Hardware Uberstore but it seems to be too tall for my kitchen. We also learned that the bathroom aisle is a replica of the foreboding set from "When Toilets Attack!", a heartfelt musical/slasher film with singing toilets interspersed with shrieks of terror.
Being the Local People that we are we continued onto the Local Outlet Shop that trains the cashiers to say things like "Oh, Fiddle Faddle!" over the loudspeaker while searching for return slips.
Mom is, like myself, somewhat of an anti-fashionista. Buying clothing is one of the things I put at the bottom of my priority list, right next to immunizing hippos for herpes. Putting aside the probable candidacy for What Not To Wear, she has lost so much weight her already baggy clothes have started to swallow her whole. New pants of some sort are in order.
While she tried on the one pair that were neither floral explosion nor plus sized (this is Florida after all) I occupied myself with the wall of VHS for sale located in the Petite section. If I am ever in need of any movie sequel on VHS I will know where to go. The Sandlot 2. Critters 3. House Party 2, 3, and 4!
Also sandwiched in the midst of Steven Seagal and Barber Shop 2 was Trick. I was most amused by visions of any one of the meandering blue-haired clientele picking this up at discount savings for a fun afternoon with Coco Peru. You remember, this movie with Neve's brother and Tori Spelling? I've always wanted to try playing the piano with a partner ever since.
Then, while waiting for mom to figure out her newly acquired debit card to purchase her new pair of pants and two books of sudoku, all for under ten dollars, I realized I might very well be "The One".
No offense but if your last name happens to be Smith please don't call. I've moved.
It hasn't been a problem lately as she's been downsizing her items as well. The weekends have been filled with several trips to the Goodwill, trading in DVDs, donating to the library. Today was all about finding a new refrigerator that won't randomly freeze the lettuce overnight and to search for new pants. I have no idea if these things are related.
We found a prospective fridge at Hardware Uberstore but it seems to be too tall for my kitchen. We also learned that the bathroom aisle is a replica of the foreboding set from "When Toilets Attack!", a heartfelt musical/slasher film with singing toilets interspersed with shrieks of terror.
Being the Local People that we are we continued onto the Local Outlet Shop that trains the cashiers to say things like "Oh, Fiddle Faddle!" over the loudspeaker while searching for return slips.
Mom is, like myself, somewhat of an anti-fashionista. Buying clothing is one of the things I put at the bottom of my priority list, right next to immunizing hippos for herpes. Putting aside the probable candidacy for What Not To Wear, she has lost so much weight her already baggy clothes have started to swallow her whole. New pants of some sort are in order.
While she tried on the one pair that were neither floral explosion nor plus sized (this is Florida after all) I occupied myself with the wall of VHS for sale located in the Petite section. If I am ever in need of any movie sequel on VHS I will know where to go. The Sandlot 2. Critters 3. House Party 2, 3, and 4!
Also sandwiched in the midst of Steven Seagal and Barber Shop 2 was Trick. I was most amused by visions of any one of the meandering blue-haired clientele picking this up at discount savings for a fun afternoon with Coco Peru. You remember, this movie with Neve's brother and Tori Spelling? I've always wanted to try playing the piano with a partner ever since.
Then, while waiting for mom to figure out her newly acquired debit card to purchase her new pair of pants and two books of sudoku, all for under ten dollars, I realized I might very well be "The One".
No offense but if your last name happens to be Smith please don't call. I've moved.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Saturday Is The New Friday
Saturdays are now the weekly sleepover night instead of Friday. Today was filled with rain and more rain, effectively stifling any plans for yardwork and go to outside with monkeys. After venturing forth to the store for rations, and an explanation about the wonders of kohlrabi and shallots, monkeys came with me to the morgue storage unit.
When mom moved in, my plan of course was to go through all lurking items and have the house tip-top beforehand. But those plans never work. If I had a fulltime construction crew and a TV show, possibly. Someone get on that for me. Anyways, to make space for her I shoveled everything into mile high totes and boxes banishing them to cold storage. Since then I've been extracting a few at a time and shredding, shredding, shredding. Because it's all paper. Thirty years worth. And it's been breeding.
So, I kinda promised if Elder Monkey was good we'd break out the newly excavated SNES and N64. I had found the systems earlier this week and he's been eyeing them over my bed, but the games were nowhere to be found. So we went treasure hunting in the depths of the storage unit. The box was located at last, on the farthest wall to the back at the bottom under the dead sea scrolls, guarded by a pack of wild, rabid stuffed animals. They demanded a sacrifice and so I said rest assured my sinuses would be paying the price later.
For some reason I decided to truck a lot of it back and needless to say, I should be in asleep at the moment but I can't seem to find the bed again. Soon. Maybe next year.
When mom moved in, my plan of course was to go through all lurking items and have the house tip-top beforehand. But those plans never work. If I had a fulltime construction crew and a TV show, possibly. Someone get on that for me. Anyways, to make space for her I shoveled everything into mile high totes and boxes banishing them to cold storage. Since then I've been extracting a few at a time and shredding, shredding, shredding. Because it's all paper. Thirty years worth. And it's been breeding.
So, I kinda promised if Elder Monkey was good we'd break out the newly excavated SNES and N64. I had found the systems earlier this week and he's been eyeing them over my bed, but the games were nowhere to be found. So we went treasure hunting in the depths of the storage unit. The box was located at last, on the farthest wall to the back at the bottom under the dead sea scrolls, guarded by a pack of wild, rabid stuffed animals. They demanded a sacrifice and so I said rest assured my sinuses would be paying the price later.
For some reason I decided to truck a lot of it back and needless to say, I should be in asleep at the moment but I can't seem to find the bed again. Soon. Maybe next year.
Increase Your Word Power In 28 Days
Homework for Elder Monkey has been good overall this year with the exception of two weeks ago Monday, when his cranium literally exploded and all sorts of screaming hatred blew out his ears.
I've heard some people say that words at their root are just words and should not hold power. I have a seven year old you might want to talk to.
It was the apocalypse of meltdowns. He hated homework. He hated Younger Monkey. He hated that Younger Monkey did not have homework. He hated his mom. More telling though, he hated living with them.
He did not, however, hate me. I was seemingly in his eyes, his only ally. Which probably quickly turned when I took away privileges upon hearing of all the spewing disrespect to his mom. However, I could smell something was festering and he wasn't ready to give it up. This was stewing rather than spewing.
Somewhere in the parenting manual there is a chapter still being written detailing maneuvers on how to speak to adults-in-training. I hardly ever have the right words to say. I stumble over them most of the time and I'm never sure which combination of words are scathing and which are healing.
Yesterday, one of his spelling words was "married". To the Elder Monkey, this word made his eyes burn. Tears began to streak his face and as they rolled out came words of his own.
It's not that he wants to just live with me, but all of us together. It's mom's fault completely that we aren't married anymore.
At this point we break out the words that are antidotes, the ones that soothe, the ones that try to break the resolve of a chaotic unfair life. But we still aren't sure of their effectiveness.
While I have the belief that our situation is probably as good as it can be, the verbal sucker punches along that path still know where it hurts the most.
I've heard some people say that words at their root are just words and should not hold power. I have a seven year old you might want to talk to.
It was the apocalypse of meltdowns. He hated homework. He hated Younger Monkey. He hated that Younger Monkey did not have homework. He hated his mom. More telling though, he hated living with them.
He did not, however, hate me. I was seemingly in his eyes, his only ally. Which probably quickly turned when I took away privileges upon hearing of all the spewing disrespect to his mom. However, I could smell something was festering and he wasn't ready to give it up. This was stewing rather than spewing.
Somewhere in the parenting manual there is a chapter still being written detailing maneuvers on how to speak to adults-in-training. I hardly ever have the right words to say. I stumble over them most of the time and I'm never sure which combination of words are scathing and which are healing.
Yesterday, one of his spelling words was "married". To the Elder Monkey, this word made his eyes burn. Tears began to streak his face and as they rolled out came words of his own.
It's not that he wants to just live with me, but all of us together. It's mom's fault completely that we aren't married anymore.
At this point we break out the words that are antidotes, the ones that soothe, the ones that try to break the resolve of a chaotic unfair life. But we still aren't sure of their effectiveness.
While I have the belief that our situation is probably as good as it can be, the verbal sucker punches along that path still know where it hurts the most.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
