Le Mon says,

zonk'd



I couldn't sleep.  I took my sleepee-time nite meds and still couldn't sleep.  sigh.  So I started to review my latin learning.  i thought that would put me to sleep.  it didn't.  it seems that learning, even if it is latin, stimulates the ol noggin.  whodathunkit?

and since the latin grammar is a very old text (well, relatively speaking), and some of the stuff seems familiar (like the actual examples), i'm thinking that it was the same reader used when i was a student in mrs. boyer's class.  and when my mom was a student in mrs boyer's class.  and when mrs boyer was but a mere maiden learning latin herself.

in fact, i am sure that it is the same primer oft quoted in many a movie.  ya know that scene where the boys in their short-pants and slicked hair are studiously bent over their desks laboriously declining nouns and conjugating verbs.  and the pinched face teacher drones on in a monotone while pacing with her pointer, ready to thahWhack any hapless boy with straying attention.

agricola, agricolae...

P-sludge

Earlier this evening, I attempted to make fried rice.  Well, it came out just fine, with the exception of the added vegetables.  sigh.  Against my better judgment, I added canned peas, corn, and carrots as I didn't have the frozen veg-mix on hand.  Now it is debatable just how long I've had the cans in the cupboard since I don't like and/or use canned veggies.  Except this time.  Yeah, there is ALWAYS an exception to prove the friggen rule.

I don't like english peas, or some call them sweet peas, or green peas, or just plain ol peas.  I thought of the lil green boogers as "peas" until I moved to the south.  Here in the south, there are many other sorts of stuffs called peas too, like field peas, black-eyed peas, crowder peas, etc.  Those peas, I like.  Usually.

Anyway, I shouldn't have added the peas, not even a pod of peas, let alone half a can of peas.  Cuz it totally ruined a perfectly palatable dish.  And my guy and I snickered because I told him that was a grand way for me to get him to order out pizza.  Add peas to the menu and neither of us will eat it.  I didn't know he didn't like peas, and that's most likely cuz I don't cook with peas.  Usually.

All that brought to mind the p-sludge incident.  When I was a kid, my mother allowed us to serve ourselves.  And whatever you took, you ate.  No problem, I just didn't take any peas.  Yes problem cuz if mom saw that you didn't take something, she'd scoop a big ol heaping spoon of it on your plate (she said that she thought you forgot.  yeah, right, mom).

There was a no-argue clause that came with my contract to be a child.  So I thought I had a fool-proof plan to take care of the pea-problem mom had served me.  Now for some reason, I didn't realize that chewing peas kept the taste and prolonged the pea-experience.  Why I didn't realize that you could just shovel em in, gulp em down unchewed is beyond me.

So what did I do?  I would take a huge mouthful of peas, chew em, smoosh em up, and then spit them into my glass of milk when I "took a drink".  Often I would gag as I did this so I am sure it was not a smooth transition of peas in the mouth to peas in the milk.

Mom was smarter than myself, even then.  She figured out why there was a mass of pea sludge in the dishwater after dinner.  Can't fool the mom.  Remember that kids.

So one fine dinner day, mom gave me water instead of the usual milk.  But I was a mere child and failed to notice that.  So I plowed my way through an unusually large mountain of peas, with my standard mode of operations.  It had not failed me before, or so I thought.

There I sat, merrily mooshing peas into my water glass than usually held the hidden powers of milk.  And when dinner was over, mom pointed out that I was not finished.  With my peas, as the glass was half-filled with pea-sludge.  She suggested I drink it down.  In mom-speak, "suggest" means DO IT.

I discovered that cold pea-sludge is far worse than peas.  Canned or not.  Ironically, there are times when I crave pea-soup.  Shudder.

Happy Autumn!

It's autumn no matter which way you look at it here in Mississippi.  The weather is a lil warmer than seasonal, but it's still way cooler than it had been a few weeks ago.  The trees are changed, the nights are great for sleeping, the animals are frisky, and the calendar says late September.

Wahoo!  Autumnal Equinox has been hurdled and we are bearing down on October, the official start of the Holiday Season for me.  Mom's birthday is at the end of October, then Halloween, then my birthday, then Thanksgiving, then my guy's birthday, then my dad's birthday, then Christmas, and New Year's.  whew.

Hope your evening is wonderful!

Learning Latin

awhile back, i'd written that i was poking around at latin, and so tonight i thought i'd share with you a lil latin language poem i found.

AT FIRST I did not know PRIMO
and ALMOST despaired of PAENE;
BUT I knew SED;
and WHILE I was studying DUM,
I SUDDENLY recognized SUBITO
and IMMEDIATELY STATIM became familiar.
AT THAT TIME TUM seemed hard
and I wrestled IN VAIN with FRUSTRA,
but I ALREADY knew IAM
and EVEN ETIAM;
and I SOON acquired MOX.
I NEVER recognize NUMQUAM
and FORMERLY I found QUONDAM difficult
while FOR A LONG TIME DIU puzzled me,
and I studied NEQUIQUAM TO NO PURPOSE,
but I have ALWAYS known SEMPER
and NOW I am sure of NUNC;
I can, THEREFORE, conquer IGITUR.
I am NOT YET familiar with NONDUM;
I know TAMEN, HOWEVER;
MOREOVER AUTEM is an old friend,
while TAM is SO simple
THAT UT will be easy.
I hope to learn SIMUL at THE SAME TIME
FOR I do know NAM
and have OFTEN met SAEPE.
THUS I was learning SIC
and had SCARCELY made sure of VIX,
when ONCE UPON A TIME I found I knew OLIM;
THEN I learned INDE,
THEN DEINDE,
and FINALLY I shall master DENIQUE.
MEANWHILE I am struggling with INTEREA,
and AS SOON AS I learn SIMUL ATQUE
I shall AT LENGTH know TANDEM,
and PERHAPS FORSITAN.
AFTERWARDS I mean to learn POSTEA,
and when I have met ITERUM a SECOND TIME
I hope to know QUOQUE ALSO.

The Huge Hat...

...is becoming a tote-bag.  Which I will still wear as a hat.

The last time I shaved my head down to the scalp was...uhm, last summer?  I think.  I know I kept it very short for quite some time.  My head-dresser (she wasn't my hair-dresser, altho she was for others) uses snippers and clippers and tries to do something to encourage me to allow my hair to grow past the influence of the many cowlicks (she says I have at least 7 if not 11).  Or barring that, use dippitiy-do or whatever they are calling pomade this week.  I told her that if they could stock Dapper Dan, then I'd consider using "hair-product".

It's been at least 10 weeks since I've last plopped down in her seat, making it fart and wheeze.  Because my hair grows at an extremely fast rate, the cowlicks have relinquished their powerful hold on my head.  My formerly short fringy bangs which just barely cleared could be called 'bangs' (see an example here), are now shaggy and look more like this (minus the kid).

I figured if I could get thru 6+ weeks of 100+ temps without shaving my head, then I could deal with it growing thru that awful inbetween stages that are painful to watch, let alone have.  Well, I bested that challenge, I tell you!  So, I figure to just let it grow and grow until i can get it trimmed and shaped to encourage further growth.

It's odd.  Cuz not only am I letting it grow, but it's all natural.  No dye-it-yourself jobs.  No perms.  No nothing.

Just me.  and my hair.

Super Stupid

Because I only have one television station (I used to have two, fuzzy and fuzzier, so I just didn't watch), Fox (cringe, i know), I get to see some super stupid ass shit.  Some times I watch just for amusement's sake, and because my braincells are not dying fast enough.  Other times I forget the tv's on while I am hunting stuff up on the net, doing laundry, baking cakes, or crochetting hats.

There is a paid advertisement for Red, a red seat which resembles a bar-stool, but which we are assured is anything but.  No, Red is a super amazing exercise unit which many turn to for assistance shaping up their flabby bodies when nothing else would work for them.  I mean just listen to the testimonies from REAL people.

Two points came to mind while this played in the background tonight.  One was what the hell is so amazing about a REAL person?  Of course the testimonies are from real people, ya twits.  Fake people are called manikins and imaginary people are called my friends.

The other point was when one of the REAL people was giving her testimony and she said something to the effect that this Red was just so friggen amazing and she swears by it.  In fact, "I'm gonna get one for every single relative" (and the married ones too, most likely).  And I thought, how rude!

I mean, wouldn't you be incredibly insulted if cousin cathy gave you exercise equipment outta the blue?  If she were my sister, and gave me one of those things, I'd slap her super stupid.  Wouldn't you?

The Hat

I've made several hats in the past few months.  Greta even wears hers.  But they all pop right off my head.  I have very thick hair.  It makes wearing any hat, barrettes, headbands, scrunchies, etc. terribly adventuresome.  When I was in high-school and my friends had those braces that needed to be worn with those little rubber bands, they'd yawn and bands (and spit) would come pinging! outta their mouths.  That's what headgear does on me.

Barrettes snap and fly off my head and take out eyes and leave scars across innocent bystanders' foreheads.  Headbands act as boomerangs when I try to put them on my head.  I've decapitated entire crowds and managed to act super stupid when cops secured the scene cuz no one would believe the babbling witness.

But this hat will have a chin strap, a nose strap, and ear flaps.  Yeah, you know I'll be posting that hot pic of me!  And you know you wanna see it.

From the Domestication Diaries

To celebrate the ability to use my kitchen sink, even on a limited basis, I decided to wash the dishes and then baked a sour cream pound cake, from scratch.  Because I don't have a tube pan, and there was way too much batter for the loaf pan and way way too much for 9x9; I ended up making a 9x13 sheet cake.

Now there is a banana nut loaf in the oven, soon to come out.  All the dishes are done.  The laundry, too (which has nothing to do with my kitchen sink and the ability to use it).  And I've crocheted a hat.  I'm still working on the hat while the loaf finishes up, but I'm thinking that this one will fit on my head.  The hat, not the loaf.  I'm not that far around the bend.

From the Domestication Diaries: Crap, it's the other end.

The plumbing escapades continue.  My landlord and his oldest son decided to reroute my kitchen sink to a separate tank, leaving my bathroom solely to the septic tank.  So now my trailer has plumbing evacuating from both ends.  Sounds sorta sick.

So, for now, I have a pipe sticking out from the trailer into the front yard/parking area.  My landlord said that this weekend, they will put in a tank for it to empty into instead of just gushing into space and then splashing down into the weeded border just to the side of my car.

Oh and by the way, they never did find the miserly migratory mass.

Malapropisms, Mondegreens, Manques, and Me

The call for Judith Heart Song's September's Artsy Essay:  The Obscure Artsy Word List

Things are not always as they seem.  This post could be funny, but it most likely will not be.  It may be painful, for me to write and for you to read.  So ya know, skip this entry if you'd like.  It's not like I'll hunt you down and/or bombard your eMail with whining inquiries and pleas.  Or spam your comments.  Cuz that'd just be wrong.  Wouldn't it?

Things are not always as they seem.  When I was younger, a teenager, I remember how silly I felt when I first realized that the lyrics that I'd been belting out for Boys of Summer (Don Henley's 84 version) were not "dead head stickin" but were "deadhead sticker".  It was funny tho, once I got over the stupid-feeling part, and could appreciate the humor of that mondegreen.  Cuz if you did see a dead head stickin on a cadillac, wouldn't a lil voice inside your head say, don't look back?  Yes, I think so.  I know I would be having a whole choir of lil voices inside my head instructing me to not look back!

Things are not always as they seem.  We've all heard and probably committed spoonerisms and malapropisms and Freudian slips and all those verbal slips and gaffes that embarrass and create sticky situations.  Hell, even the president has given us much fodder, taking misspoken words and phrases to a whole new level.  And as an American, I feel acute embarrassment that a leader who is so well-educated and should by all rights be very eloquent, if not at the very least well-spoken, can and does bungle things so severely.  And that we continue to endorse him as president and that we even re-elected the shithead.  I'm sorry, for us and for the rest of the world.

Things are not always as they seem.  "I coulda binna contendah" was Brando's memorable line in On the Waterfront.  I'm not familiar with the actual movie, but that speech of his character's comes to mind from time to time.  For those of you not familiar with the third most oft quoted movie lines to make an impact on pop culture (right behind "I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse", also spoken by Brando's character in The Godfather, and "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn"), the lines are as follows:
       You don't understand!  I coulda had class.  I coulda been a contender.  I could've been a contender.  I could've been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am.

Now, before you rush to reassure, admonish, or espouse me in comments with how regrets can be wasteful, cuz ya can get stuck in the past; or how I'm still young and have alotta life in me yet; or how I oughta put on my big-girl panties and suck it up, essentially pulling myself up by my bootstraps...before ya do all that, or any of it, let me say:  I know.  I get it.  I got it.  I will continue to get it.

But just cuz I understand something doesn't necessarily mean I agree with it.  And just cuz I know something in my head, doesn't necessarily mean that I have let that knowledge inform my heartfelt beliefs.  If I could and would, which I probably should, really believe that; then, I would be so much better off.  Cuz there'd be so much more internal harmony and peace.  Coulda woulda shoulda.

And maybe I will, eventually get it, in all ways.  Eventually that might happen.  But for now, I'm still getting there.

They say I'm stuck in a grieving process.  They say that I haven't yet accepted that who I am doesn't depend on what I can do, what I do do, and what I have done.  They say that my worth doesn't depend on my role as an active student, striding forth, completing my PhD.  They say that my self-identity is not determined by my abilities or the lack thereof.  They say all that, and mean all that and I say that to others and mean it for others.  But I don't get it for me.  I don't really believe that; because it was who I was, who I thought I'd get back to being, and now I have to accept the very real likelihood that that might not be who I will ever be again.  I coulda been a contender.  Now, I'm a bum.

Now before you rush to reassure or admonish that I am not a bum; let me say that I get it, I got it, I will continue to get it.  Really I do.  But it is extremely difficult to feel that I am not a bum, when I am under review for the continuation of disability benefits.  It is extremely difficult to feel that I am not a bum when the representative for the Office of Conditional Disability in the Department ofEducation is telling me that I ought to be in a coma if I cannot work.  It is decidedly difficult to feel unbumlike when my own mother sighs, "yes she had so much potential, but look at her now."

In many ways, I'm just a manque.  I coulda been something, but I'm not.  Well, I am.  I exist, and so I am something.  And one day, I hope to really get it, I hope to believe it, truly with my all, that I am not a bum.  I hope to one day get and truly wholeheartedly believe that I am not defined by what I cannot do; rather than I am defined at least to those who matter, by my wonderful attributes and characteristics and what it is that I can do and do do.

(*my landlord just pounded on the door, it might have been a good place to end this anyway)

Ever in RECORDED history

There are plenty of commercials that make me cringe.  Most are just that bad.  Now there are some commercials that are kinda cool.  Cleo award material.  (actually i think it's clio, and yes, i am on the net, and yes i could look it up and no i'm not gonna)

but this one just makes me want to reach thru the radio and slap the dimwit.  i know he didn't write it, and he probably needed the money to pay bills.  but still.

it's the one for match.com.  the one where the guy is mildly panicked and clearly awestruck as he asserts that they now have more women registered to the site than EVER IN RECORDED HISTORY.  *gasp*

now i know that commercial has been around for at least a year.  but the thing that gets me is that at the very most, the website (and its records) has been around for 10 yrs.  if ya just think about population and internet usage, increased numbers of registration for tons and tons of services are probably going "thru the roof" (another snatch from a pesky commercial for slim fast).

but match.com makes it sound like "recorded history" could quite potentially be ya know, history, like of the universe.  or maybe it's just me.  i'm wondering how many folks are flocking to match.com so they can meet the women (there is another commercial that expresses awe over the numbers of men now registered with the service.  yes, they alternate air time), because of snippet of struck-dumb with hallowed halls of recorded history.

jaded.  i'm jaded.

Captionless

From the Domestication Diaries

Holy Bongo Schittz!  The utter delirious joy and satisfaction that my landlord is deriving from this whole clogged pipe turned must hunt and destroy the migratory mass is amazing and sorta scary.  A few minutes ago he yells for assistance.  So I go out and he gives me instructions like he is sending me into battlefield, "ok.  this is what i need you to do.  climb up the ladder.  are ya with me so far?"  well, ok, it wasn't exactly like that.  but close enough.  so i'm atop the ladder, shoving a snake (he didn't call it that, he said, "there's a hole, on top your roof, and there is a thin metal strap sticking out from it.  push it in til i say so.") thru the vent hole and all of a sudden, it starts streaking past me down the hole at an alarmingly fast rate.  we're talking feet per second fast.  he thinks I'm pushing it, and starts yelling, "whoa, so, so, so...STOP".  Not about to slice my hands open on rusty snakes (have you seen where they've been!?!), I holler back, "want me to stop the sneaking streaking snake?!?".  Silence (except for the whisper of swifty, the snake, as it continued its journey).  Then my landlord hollers up, with resignation, "c'mon down."

A few minutes later, he hauls himself out from under my trailer and tells me that it won't get fixed til tomorrow cuz now, there's a broken pipe.  You know, after so many years, that there pvc stuff gets brittle.  So, he needs to go home, hose off outdoors, strip in the mudroom, wash down in the mudroom sink, then tiptoe thru the kitchen and sitting room to the bathroom to shower and disinfect and then he'll have to pick up the parts in town cuz it's a plum'in' law that no plumbing job shall ever require less than 6 trips to your choice of plum'in'ware store.  All that will take until dark and he left his flashlighted helmut at work.

No problem, I wasn't planning to wash the several day old bowls anyway.  And if I do, I'll just do em while I take a shower.  I'm resourceful like that.

From the Domestication Diaries

My landlord is joyously engaged in Debra's Plumbing round 2.  After several trips between my house, his house, town, the ole barn, the big barn, and the tool shed; my landlord informs me that he is gonna saw thru the pipes now.  As he was covered in thick mud slurry (it's the front end of the trailer, not the septic tank side), he looked happier'n a pig in shit.  Plus he gets to use heavy duty power tools and grunt alot.

I thought he'd be kinda pissed.  But he seems ok with it all.  Since I've been here for over 5 yrs, and haven't had problems of this nature before, maybe he figures it was bound to happen sometime soon.

I'm glad I'm not a home-owner.

Gossipy Gourdo and Punn King say...

isn't "paid advertisement" redundant?  i mean, it's for product, for profit.  hello?!?

Introducing the Punn King

These last few pages have been startling white with print on the other side.  That's cuz I've been using up my recyclable extra printed pages, as you might be able to discern, this particular page has a map of mississippi with all its regions as designated by the dept of mental health and mental retardation.  That's me, all about recycling, mississippi, and mental stuffs.

From the Domestication Diaries

Oh yeah!  The pound cake turned out to be scrumptious.  'course anything that involves a pound of sugar creamed into a pound of butter is orgasmic in my book, even before ya add the eggs, flour, and stuff.  I did get carried away with the vanilla, tho.  Which you wouldn't think could be done, considering the poundage i was working with.  I love vanilla and so I didn't even bother measuring, I just dolloped that stuff in there and kept beating.  That's probably one of the only times "vanilla" and "beating" are used in the same sentence while not referring to BDSM.  Anyway, the pound cake tastes like ice-cream base to me, snarficilious.

My landlord didn't return.  Which is ok, cuz I wasn't planning on using the kitchen sink tonight anyway.  Besides, I've got two other usable sinkish type areas, counting the bathtub, if need be.  And it's a lil too late to be calling them right now anyway.  I'll deal with the rest of the clean up and all tomorrow.  Including the huge industrial type ladder which is now bolted to my trailer, the stabilization tubing having developed transformer capabilities and all.  That happens.

Excuse me while I go shove my face into the pound cake again.

From the Domestication Diaries

Well, after using one extremely large sized Liquid PlumR Gel, industrial strength plunging (building my upper body strength, who needs free-weights when you could stay home and plunge away?), and in desperation, a partial bottle of windex type blue ammonia (sure they SAY not to mix household chemicals), the rest of an old bottle of greased lightening, and a mostly full bottle of mean green shower stuff, and OH! yeah, some CLR (cuz i figured, if it is strong enough to clear up the calcium, lime and rust deposits then the shits gotta be strong enough to eat thru the wad of paper maiche i imagine is clogging the pipes), and over 12 hours...my standing sink water was not much lower and I admitted defeat.  I went to see my landlord who absolutely loves me, cuz I present some of the most challenging needs evah.  Then I went to Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University, week three (i always hear and say that with a deeper more booming voice).  When I got home, about twenty minutes, I noticed my landlord driving off the farm (perhaps to town and a store?) and pulling into my yard/parking area, I noticed a huge ladder with extra stabilization tubes propped against my trailer and extended up over the roofline.  This was sorta puzzling because I was thinking that all my plumbing piping and stuffs ran under the trailer (like most do) and not up along the roofline.  If that's the case, I am flummoxed as to why I don't have standing water all the time, being that gravity has that pull and all.

When I came in the house (it's a trailer, but it's my home, dammit, so it's a house), I saw that my sink has a moist layer of crud that was the silt in the standing water, minus the standing water.  This is good.  But, all my stuff was placed in such a manner that made me again think that my landlord was not fleeing the farm, merely driving to town to get something crucially needed for resolving this particular problem.  So, I'm not sure what is what yet.

I do know that my landlord is probably thanking me for getting him outta the house on a school night.  Cuz by the time he gets home, the kids should be tucked into their beds, snoozing away.  At least that's the way I'm choosing to see things.  You're welcome, my landlord.

Madd Props, fo' schizzle

Most of you know some of the folks listed over there, to the left.  More than likely not all of you know all the others of you.  So here we go!

Meet Russ, the doodlin' dude.  He inspires creativity, makes no ill judgements, but is no pollyanna by any means.  'mark his site, cuz there is no way you can delve deep enough in one sitting.  Unless you sit for several days at a time.  With a catheter and a poop-bag.

Then there is Jimmy's stupid sheet.  As he says, he tries to write funny takes on things that annoys him, otherwise it would seem he needs laxatives.  And plenty of them.  The good kind that move ya massively.

Heather, the Dooce dudette, keeps it real with her own twisted sense of reality that speaks to me.  And plenty of others.  She's been blogging for hella long time and you get to go thru some pretty drastic life changes with her over the years.  Meet her husband, Jon, who keeps his own brief blog, mostly in photo format.  They have a daughter, Leta, who both speak of and to often.

Judith is a bit more contemplative, from an artsy perspective.  An incredibly humble and modest woman who is amazing in her capacity to embrace others in this world.  She encourages expression, in whatever form, esp with her monthly call for the Artsy Essays.

Dan's a bit demented, and for that, we all love him.

Vicki shakes her maracas and has lots to say and lots to share and lots to link.

Cathy's is a private journal, and I keep forgetting that.  But she maybe might start a public one and if she does, I'll let ya know and send you over for a good look see read.

I've only come across Crystal myself, but already I've read thru enough to snicker and snort over.

Then there are the other two sites, my old journal, the original Debra's Daily Dose and those silly captioned pix over at I Can Has Cheezburger?

Go check it!

tell me about it

it ain't right, it jest ain't right

All that baking I've been doing has hazardous side-effects.  First off, lemme tell ya this post ain't gonna be pretty.  Having said that and thus guaranteeing that you will continue reading, let me get to the guts of it all.

Clogged pipes.  Internally, I can testify that my own personally plumbing is a bit congested these past week.  Proper colon care is sooooo underrated.  sigh.

All that flour, powder mixes, battered bowls, baked on spills, greased pans...the pipes from my kitchen sink are clogged.  Hell, for all I know, that flour and water could have paper maiched the entire of my trap, never to allow the free flow of soapy dishwater again.  And speaking of soap, I know it can contribute to gunk build-up, but don't DAWN and other dish-detergents brag about their grease-busting abilities?  Then how come my sinks are clogged, huh?

I've still standing water.  Despite an ENTIRE large sized bottle of liquid plumR (which is spoda have at least 5 treatments in it) and 3 hrs and aggressive industrial plunger action the pipes are still clogged and I've still standing water.  In my kitchen sinks too.

From the Domestication Diaries

Well, last night's rice lasagna was wonderful!  My guy ate it up, yum!  That's always a true litmus, cuz he'll try most all my dishes, but it's only if he really likes it that he goes back for more.  And has reheats the next day.  So that was a success.

Tonight, my double sink in the kitchen is blocked.  My guy went to town and picked up some liquid plumber cuz nothing else was working.  And so far, it doesn't seem to be working either.  sigh.

My pound cake from scratch looks ok, it fell in the center.  But it is the first time I've tried to make pound cake from scratch.  And it's still too hot to try.  But I bet it'll taste just fine.

Redd hatt, you don hafta turn on the redd lite!

Ginja, the dough-man ninja

A bit early

So I guess you could call these the Topsy Turvy Early Birdies!  I don't normally get all excited about new decorations and things.  But, years ago, my mother had gotten a gourd that was painted to be a santa with little feet and all.  As it was a gourd, it had a curve sorta like these do.  It is very whimsical and light hearted.

So when I got the Terry's Village catalog, instead of chucking it into the trash bin, I saw the cover which had two Topsy Turvy Snowmen (similar to the whimsical santa gourd and similar to the pic of these Birdies).  I immediately thought of mom.

The Domestication Diaries

I feel like I ought to have a division devoted to domestication diaries.  Tonight I made brownies.  From a mix, yes, but they were the very first brownies I ever made.  My mother will not make brownies, because she said that she could never get them to turn out right when she was younger.  I think the secret is that you cannot wait til you think they are done, for they will be too hard and dry.  I noticed that the directions say to check 2" in, from the pan's edge.  If you are an experienced baker, you usually check in the middle of the pan.  So if you were to wait til the middle gets done, then the outside is ruined, hard as a rock.  Fortunately, I followed the directions and did just what the package instructed, in spite of my urge to leave them in because they didn't seem done yet.   And guess what?  They are delicious and moist and chewy and just right!

Now I am branching into more "from scratch" dishes instead of just boxed mixes.  I've done breakfast casseroles to the point I feel very comfortable with them.  The other day I made tea bread from scratch.  So right now, there is another loaf baking.  I only was able to snag a taste the other day, before the entire loaf disappeared!  It got rave reviews.  This time, this loaf will be for me and my guy.  The great thing is that there is no added sugar.  The loaf is moist and chock full of plumped raisins and berries.  They provide the sweetness without it being too overpowering with sugar.

Waiting for the loaf to come out, I put together a pan of rice lasagna.  I've not tried this before so we'll see how it comes out.  It uses cold rice, egg, grated cheese; and cottage cheese and grated cheese; and tomato sauce; and ricotta cheese.  Layer it all together, top with grated cheese and it's ready to go.  I'll let ya know how that turns out.

Google Reader

I wasn't getting the alerts, thru AOL/AIM's "service".  It was spotty at best.  I had also been using changenotes.com, and sometimes that worked and sometimes it didn't.  sigh.

Earlier this week, I'd looked into Google Reader.  Now, I'd checked it out before, but it seemed a little overwhelming cuz I couldn't grasp it at first (I was having a bad brain day).  But when I got to looking at it earlier this week, ping! I understood it and POOF it works quite well.

I didn't realize how very much google has to offer.  i'm slowly checking out various features and such.  i think some are not really my thing, but some are.  and that's good enough for me!

tonight's experiment

I was more tuckered out than I thought from yesterday's activities, sun and all.  I ended up staying home instead of going in to help my friend with her second day of the yard sale.  It was ok, I called and spoke with her and she had a few other folks to help her today, including her mom.  So that was cool.  I just need to remember to pick up my card table sometime.

I sorta puttered around a little today here, didn't even get out of my jammies.  Then, I fell asleep while reading and awoke very disoriented.  I feel some anxious, even though I've been up for hours and the nap hadn't been that long.

Tonight, I sauteed a white onion and a yellow onion, then I scrambled eggs, milk, and cleaned canned salmon with salt and pepper.  I also prepared a huge amount of rice.  I'm waiting for it to cool a bit, but it smells good and looks good.

Hope ya'll are having a good night.

Time-Life/Warner Collections

Some,nights, I catch the paid advertisements.  Why?  Well, I'm a bit of a sap for the Time-Life/Warner Collections.  I mean, c'mon now, 165 Soft Rock hits?  Who doesn't love reliving their own sad, sad take on the 80s?  And those 210 Sounds of the SOoooooooooul (with the Bonus Smooth Midnight Sounds of Jazz) just make ya wanna sex yourself up, don't they?  And oh oh and what about the Doobie Brothers jamming out China Grove on the Southern Rock Collection?  After all, where oh where else could you find all the unforgettable hits of Bread, Donovan, Air Supply, Billy Joel, Aaron Neville, Smoky Robinson, Bonnie Tyler, Linda Ronstadt, America, Peter Frampton, Seals and Croft and oh so many more?  Surely not in the retail stores!  Don't go looking for this collection at your local walmartZ cuz you won't find it there!  AND each collection comes with complete liner notes, and WAIT if you order now, in the next six minutes we will rush you the greatest collection of Neal Diamond BUT wait, order now within the next four minutes with your credit card and checking route numbers and we will include a complete set of ginsu knives and OH MY FRIGGEN GOD if you call now, in the next two minutes with your credit card numbers and your checking/savings account numbers and passwords and include the deed for your property and your next 12 paychecks, we will allow you to order all of this for 17 easy payments of only $15.99 and one difficult payment of $33.33 (and a third).  You won't find a deal like this just anywhere!

The thing is, I like all that sappy song stuff.  I can sing 9 out of 10 of the songs they sample, no matter which collection is being featured.  And then I get "I've been waaaaiting for a girllllllllll like YOU to come into my liiiiiiiiiife....YES, waiTING for a girl like you...." stuck in my head.

for days.

today's recap

So this morning I made a loaf of tea bread and then went to help my friend with her yard-sale.  I was sorta sleepy, so when the Baby Girl needed some loving, I had no problem scooping her up and nestling her close and snuggling with the bestest huggles ya can get.  and some sweet sugars.

After spending the day, in the sun, refolding clothes and rearranging what looked like sales tables the night before christmas at walmartS; i was sticky from sweat and spilled juice and stained with juice and dorito cheese powder and tired.  When I got home, I pounded out a few eMails and also spent some time drinking some relaxing tea.

My friend asked if I could come back tomorrow.  Sure.  Maybe.  I might be a little late.  And a little non-functional.  We had a great time today, but a little goes a long way with me.  Ya know?

gmail

does anyone have any experience with gmail?  i use google quite a bit and am wondering what the users of g(oogle)mail have to say.  i have read mixed reviews and am not sure how accurate some of the info is.  it seems a tad biased, but i don't know if that is realistic or not.  so if you or yours have any sort of info to share, i'd love to hear it!

the main reason i didn't keep the blogger/blogspot account was because at the time, it didn't fit my needs and i already had the aol/aim account.  currently, i use peoplepc as my isp, so i use their email service too, and access it thru webmail (altho outlook is an option, i just like webmail better than outlook).

any comments on this, more than welcome!  thanks.

"time to make the donuts"

i woke up and couldn't get back to sleep.  as i lay in the dark, i thought about a few things, but the predominate thoughts dealt with how the days and nights are of equal length.  Autumnal Equinox is here.  sigh.  which means that the days are getting shorter and the nights are getting longer and although i use my low setting on my air conditioner at times, it won't be all that long before i clean my propane heater.  i will put that day off as long as i can, by wearing layers when necessary.

finally, i admitted defeat.  sleep will probably want to revisit while i am at my friend's house today.  so i got up and am now making a tea bread to take with me, along with the ginger bread i made last night, to adria's.  she is having a yard sale and altho i will not haul myself in for the break-of-dawn early-bird rabid yardsalers, i did tell her i'd help out.

her children will be there, 3 and 8 years old.  the sale is going to be quite large, as there will be some stuff inside and some stuff outside.  her 3 yr old grew so much this year that the pants she had set aside 6 months ago, because they were too large are now too small.  adria is very particular about the condition of the things she buys and sells so i'm sure that the items today will be well worth the price she attaches.

and i also know that if needs be, i can nap whilst there.  she is well aware that my energy level doesn't always cooperate with my desire to do things.  and another friend will be there too, helping out.  so if things do get to be too much, i can leave the scene.

Ugh

Today's big task?  Defrosting the freezer.  In the five years I've lived here, I don't believe I've defrosted my freezer.  I decided on Sunday that I would do it this week.  I figured that was a vague enough goal that I'd be able to accomplish it.  And, wahoo, I did.

Now there is a huge chunk of ice-berg in my tub and my double sink is overflowing with ice-floes.  My kitchen floor has been sponged up from the puddles of melted ice-flecks.

That task can be checked off my list.  If I had one.

Memom's Apron

My mother was a seamstress through most of my life, and in addition, she did many other things.  She baked our bread, two or three times a week, for about three years.  She made candles and soap, threw pots, decorated cakes, canned tomatoes, made strawberry jam, and cooked almost every day, if not twice daily.  She is juried in basketry, having split her own reed and hewed it, drawing it to the desired thickness, and weaving all sorts of baskets.  She's dyed reed, soaked it, given lessons, and produced some of the most amazing baskets over the years.

In all those activities, the only time mom did not wear an apron was when she was sewing.  Often she wore a full, white cotton/linen bibbed apron, like a baker, butcher, and in her case candlestick-maker would wear.  She would wear the apron to protect her clothes and her self from flour clouds, sticky dough, sugary icing, hot wax, dye stains, thick slurry clay, and foods that splatter.  Mom was not always found in an apron, but she favored them often.

So with her 60th birthday coming up next month, I have been pondering for months now, what to do, what to do.  I have considered many projects, but not one was exactly the sort of thing that screamed, i'm it, i'm it.  Til the other day, I came across a perfect pattern for the perfect project.

See, mom hasn't really worn an apron much here lately, but it's because her old ones have finally all been made into rags.  So I am crocheting her a bibbed apron, out of yellow/white variegated cotton yarn.  I quickly shared with a few folks who all stared at me blankly.  One even said to me that she thought my mother would resent an apron because it would symbolize domestic housewife duties.  I could be wrong, but I don't think an apron symbolizes her "place", rather aprons protect her clothes when she engages in those activities that she loves, namely crafting with glue guns, making wreaths and center-pieces, dying and working with soaked reed, and baking bread.  Those are activities that she enjoys.

at least i think so.

Cracking Up

Dudes!  I have found a new author (at least for me, he's new) and I'll be starting "(Jack Spratt Investigates) The Big Over Easy" (A Nursery Crime) by Jasper Fforde while my bread bakes.  In Jack's previous case, he fails to convict three crafty pigs suspected of a certain wolf's murder.  In this tale, it's Easter, a bad time for eggs, and 126 shattered pieces of Humpty Dumpty end up in the morgue.  Jack and his partner Sergeant Mary Mary must puzzle thru HD's sordid history while navigating tricky plots like the one involving a problematic beanstalk in order to point this one to bed.

Domesticated Debra Makes a Comeback

I decided to bake a few things.  A fruit compote that looks to have turned out way better than expected was a complete experiment.  It's one of those confidence building things.  See when I was a child, like 7, I baked cakes and cookies from scratch often.  By often, I mean several times a week in the cooler months (I lived in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania at that time, cool weather lasted from September to May).  But over the years, I feel outta the habit and forgot more than I now know.  So slowly some of the tricks are coming back (ya know, three decades later).  Mostly I've been baking boxed mixes, but there are a few things that I am beginning to feel like maybe I could wing on my own.  So the fruit compote is a bit of an experiment, it looks good, smells good.  Hopefully it will taste just as good.

In addition to the fruit compote dish, I'm making pumpkin bread and also some banana nut bread (from boxed mixes).  I plan to take the breads in to two friends tomorrow.

And there is something I threw together that is waiting its turn in the oven, cornbread (boxed mix) with jalepeno, salsa, egg, and cheddar cheese soup.  That's an experiment.  I'm not sure why I added the soup except I had no cheese and thought, well maybe that would be the liquid in addition to the cheese.  I'll give it a whirl.

So, I've almost the laundry put up.  And sometime this week I'll be defrosting my freezer.  And I found just the ticket for mom's 60th next month.  I'm gonna start crocheting it tomorrow.


More as it comes.  Oh!  Still haven't heard anything from the social security administration regarding my continuation review decision.  I did call and leave messages last week.  It's been a month since the last interaction.  I've also done some work on the student loan stuff and I know what the next step is on my part; I'll be writing a letter and sending it to various folks at the Dept of Education, legal aid, and the consumer council (who made proposals regarding the federal code toward student loans and disability).

say g'nite debbie.  (g'nite)

bad, oh so bad

Teabagging, revisited, yet again

teabagging, revisited, again

On Dunceship

I donned my dunce cap and went to walmart earlier this evening.  Our local walmart has been in this location for 6 yrs.  before that it was in two other locations.  so there are those idiots who would say to me, when i would ask, "i just moved here and i'm trying to find..., can you give me directions?"...the answer to that should have been NO, they couldn't.  but i digress, so these idiots who somehow failed to register that i am asking directions because i just moved here and hence did not know where things used to be because, uhm, i just moved here...anyway, idiots would answer, "sure, ok yeah, so ya turn next to the old walmarts?  and then you go straight past where the old one was first?  and then ya turn right at the next light?"  usually i would restrain my urge to throttle them.  usually.

So earlier, i donned the dunce cap and went to the "walmartS" and began to add yet another well earned stripe for my hat.  cuz i forgot that for the last 4 or 5 months, walmart has been tearing up their parking lot.  now normally, i'm not a real big fan of walmart cuz it is not a very efficient place and there are tons of inconsiderate idiots who plod along, roaming the parking lot and aisles aimlessly, managing to clog the traffic flow.  these same idiots seem to drive bumper cars, those clogging that traffic flow as well.  so you can imagine what walmart parking lot is like when there is construction.

the reason that walmart is doing this is a clever little ploy, i think.  or i might be giving credit where none is due.  first they had to tear up and replace a good section due to petroleum leakage (their underground gas tanks didn't vent right or something, whoohpsee).  but they tried to disguise this i think by then moving on to various other sections and tearing up and repaving.  as tho they were doing this for their customers.  so we have a nice parking lot.

the result of which for the last several months has been that entire sections are closed, traffic flow is jammed in the rerouted areas of access, and parking space is limited.  people get downright vicious and especially possessive of their spaces, and it didn't help that we had those 6 weeks of 100+ degree temps.  so how i could forget that i ought not try to fight the flow of stupidity on a sunday night is beyond me.  i usually go when absolutely no other customer base would be there.

so from the get-go, it was a mistake, the parking, the traffic, the cell-phone customers, the rotted produce, the lack of number of open cashier lanes, the extended family household who checked out in front of me, then came up short, so had to search thru their bags (which had been tied and knotted shut) to find items to void, and then deciding to take the items anyway cuz cousin lloyd found the money in his front pocket along with a several baggies of lil chunks otherwise known as crystals.

i was glad to get out alive.

moping

sometimes i am rather pig-headed, doggedly insisting on not seeing what may very well be the truth.  even in writing that sentence, i use qualifiers, as tho i am holding out hope that things really are the way that i was piggedly and doggedly insisting.  even now.  sigh.

while i was gone, my landlord and her daughter came to sassifron sit and furrbee feed every day for a bit.  sassifron charmed them and they feel in love with her.  especially the daughter, a 9.5 yr old who would cradle saffron and coo to her and love on her.  when i went down to see my landlords and to thank them for taking care of the animals while i was gone, the daughter begged me for saffron.  she kept saying that saffron would have other playmates, cats, who would keep her company.

well, i am allergic to cats.  i love them so, but for a few years, i have had some pretty awful reactions to them.  so much so that when i went to visit my mother, my lungs would fill up with fluids and the tissues would swell.  so why, oh why did i get saffron and before her stella?

well, last fall, right at about this time, i was telling my landlord how much the mice were driving me up a wall.  i live in the middle of hayfields, so this is expected that a few mice take up residence in the people place.  besides, we leave such a good feast of crumbs for them.  my landlady had suggested i take one of their kittens.  i said that i couldn't cuz i am allergic to them.  she said that i could keep her outside.

thus stella came home.  she was so little and piteous and i just couldn't stand the thought of her outside, so i brought her in.  i figured that if i had problems breathing, out she'd go.  breathing is important.  ya might even say it is vital.  i also said that if she left messes, out she'd go.  and if she didn't get along with the dogs (who stay out lots anyway), then she couldn't be a part of my furrbee family.

here's the thing.  stella and i were fine!  she did go in and out, because i didn't want to deal with a litter box.  she and i would nap together and read together (we had similar tastes) and write together (her poems were outstanding!  sorta freestyle).  and i could breathe just fine, my eyes would sometimes itch, but usually that was if i was petting her, then forgot to wash my hands afterwards.

then one day, stella didn't come home.  she was young, 9 months.  but she disappeared.  whether it was a kitnapping or she ran off or something thought she'd be a tasty treat, I'm not sure.  but she was gone.  that was in may.  by june, i was missing having a kitten around and my guy knew of one that needed a home.

so saffron became a part of my household.  i was sure since i hadn't had significant problems with stella that i'd be fine.  wrong.  well, at first when i had the sniffles and some minor lung congestion, i thought well it could be due to dust (i live on a dirt road in the middle of hayfields and we were having a drought), due to my normal tendency to get sick with something, or that it could be due to any number of other factors.

but, i was determined, it was not due to saffron.  after all, i'd been fine with stella.  so knowing that things that would normally not bother me can become irritants when i am feeling poorly, i let saffron outside.  but i was scared that she'd have a similar fate as stella.  so when the worst was over, i set up a litter box and brought her in and bathed her (she always sat so still when i bathed her, scrunching up her face like a lil kid) and sprayed her and used cautionary measures including lots of hand washing.

then i went away for about 2 weeks.  and my lungs completely healed up.  i came home, and i started having a little problem.  i thought it was the dust (i did some major cleaning and kicked up entire dust storms in here).  i thought it coulda been the mold.  it coulda been just time for me to get all stuffy and snotty again.  i thought, it is NOT saffron.

so last night, i am wheezing, struggling to breathe.  and i admit, it could be her.  and even if it isn't, and my allergies are kicking in due to fall pollen, the extra irritant of saffron could be contributing to my difficulty breathing.  and then, i had an asthma attack.

so this morning, i went down to my landlord's.  i spoke to her.  we woke her daughter up and i drove up to my place and she held saffron in her arms all the way back to her place.  and we took her in their house and we watched her roam about, checking things out.  we watched to see how their housecat would deal with saffron being present.  we watched to see how saffron would deal with the other cat having domain.  i left a thousand words behind, explaining what saffron likes and what she does and oh there was this one time that she did this and i did that and then this happened.

and i drove home.  and my guy held me while i cried.  and i am moping cuz maybe just maybe it wasn't because of the kitty that i couldn't breathe.

tidbits

Last night, I made pumpkin bread (already gone), cinnamon-apple coffee cake, and breakfast pizza.  The breakfast pizza was such a cool recipe and it gave me ideas for a few other things, most notably that a tube of crescent roll dough can provide a tasty crust for many dishes.  It unravels into triangle pieces, making it easy to cover the bottom of a pan as the pieces are uniform and fit nicely together.  The dough is not too sweet and doesn't overpower the dish.  I'll use it next time I make pizza of any sort.

I fried sausage, but you can use bacon or go without, and covered the dough, then I scattered frozen home fries and poured a mixture of eggs, milk, and cheese over it.  Popped it in the oven and that was that!  Easy prep, easy clean-up, tasty dish.  and russ, i don't think you could say that it's too healthy!  grins.

Saffron has an old leather boot string that she has had since she was a newborn.  Earlier today I saw her playing with it, and she looked so funny that I just had to share.  She's kinda big (I think) for not quite 5 months, but she was so kittenish.  Anyway, she had wadded the string up, stuffed it in her mouth, with her cheeks a bit puffed (really, not much room for a cat to puff their cheeks), and a few loops of the string escaping her mouth so that it looked like she was doing some serious chowing down on spaghetti.

Also, Saffron wheezes a bit when she is asleep.  It's sorta like snoring, but very high pitched and whistly.  cats don't get whistling snots, do they?  i didn't think so.  at first when i heard the sound, i thought it was me having some lingering reaction to dust and such.  but nope!  it was lil miss sassi!

alright, that was too much cuteness in this entry.  it's smothering me.

and finally...

Le Mon says,

She's fresh, so fresh, inviting...

homer has his spiderpig, i have my...

it's a guy-thing

trick it up

phone doodles

let sleeping dogs lie (past is past)

Gretella-Mae

tea-bagging, revisited

Tennessee Adventures

domesticated debra, draws

Le Mon says,

tea-bagging

Pardon me,

Let the scanning begin!

First I gotta say, dude! that turtle moved fast!  He scuttled across my table lickity-split, startled me and Saffron.  It was a funny scene I am sure, great for youtube video, but there was no recording device (well, that i know of, anyway, snicker).

Remember back when I was at Greta's or my guy's, and said that I would have a frenzy of stuff to share when I had access to my scanner?  Well, I entered all the sketches and things, and am uploading them to photobucket as we speak, well as I type.  Some of them are references to things that may not make much sense, but they did to me at the time.  I'm just gonna pop em all in and let you gawk, or not, as you see fit.

Excitement & Entrapment

This afternoon, Ziggee and Shaddow took to raising ruckus and I couldn't see what the fuss was all about.  Then Shaddow left off and took a nap, but Ziggee was adamant that he was going to keep barking at whatever intruder it was.

So I finally gave up trying to concentrate and went out to see what the alarm was raised for.  Ziggee, my lil 6 pound rat-cha, cornered a turtle against the wire fence.  The turtle had no where to go and Ziggee was frantic with excitement over his trapped prey.  I don't know what he expected the turtle to do, he couldn't go anywhere.  It's not like Ziggee was planning to feast on the turtle, I don't think.

Anyway, I brought it in, but I'm going to take it back out as soon as I get some shoes on.  I wanted the dogs to settle a bit before I release the turtle in the wide-open field.  After all, he probably has an appointment in the woods tomorrow morning and must get moving to get there on time.

Thank you so very much.

During the summer 03, the Social Security Administration and I waltzed.  I say "waltzed" because it was an intricate dance of steps in which I began, and they led me through a gauntlet which was hair-raising and complex.  I say "waltzed" also because I am a rarity in that I received approval first time out.

Yes, I do know how very very very very rare that is.  Not only did I receive approval, but I did it without a lawyer.  I did it.

Now, I know that it depends on tons of factors and variables.  Lots of other folks get involved, copying records to get them to the right place by the deadlines, making sure they provide complete records and don't skip this section or that crucial test result or progress note.  It is a process with trials at every breath of the way.

In the meantime, there were other folks who monitored me, who made sure I didn't sink through the layers of muck and mud.  There were folks who breathed for me, who took my frantic calls because I collapsed and stabbed myself while making a salad because the medication was poison for me.  There were advocates who helped me get thru another hour, day, week, summer.  To them, I say a heartfelt, "thank you so very much."

This summer, four years later, I am experiencing my first continuation review.  It's been difficult in some ways, and seems more so because of the Dept of Edu fiasco mentioned in the last entry.  Again, I've been extremely grateful to those folks who've helped me through this.  As of yet, I've not been given a formal decision.  And I've been trying not to let paranoia get the better part of me, because I know that reviews do occur.  I just find the timing to be extremely odd, considering the crap with the dept of education at the moment.

Le Mon is...

some of you may know, or not, i'm in the midst of several ongoing balls of snarled string, wax and barbed wire.  with two government agencies.  one is the department of education, what joy!  what fun!  and the other is the social security administration (i'm under review for continuation of disability benefits)--more on the social security admin later.

now the thing that does not surprise me, but does frustrate me, is how these agencies call their own shots and do not concern themselves with following their own written policy which is to govern procedures.  an example of this would be time-frames.  when they want you to do something (complete this form, turn your head and cough twice, bend over and grab your ankles), they give you a matter of days, stated sternly in bold, red, CAPS, larger font size, and underscored.  and in several locations, in case you missed it.  for some reason.  like you are a moron.  and have the limited uhm intelligence of a government employee.  several times.  you understand.  it is important that you do this and return it in 3 days.  i'm sure you have a very good idea of how this all works.

and yet, when the ball is in their court (getting more snarled with more rusty barbed wire and sticky tape, some glue, and eyes of newt), well then, gov-time elasticizes and warps into fun-house mirrored hazy images with vague answers and no accountability.

so at the moment, i'm in limbo on the "last" step with the dept of edu that is now in its ninth month (i'm being generous here, and not counting the six months they lost my records twice).  i've called, written letters, etc etc etc and have duly documented the umpteen various versions of stories that i've received from umpteen various versions of employees that are wearing the dept of edu dunce's cap at the moment.

now, i'm stepping it up, cuz the pressure of this limbo is killing me.  i've never been considered a suicidal-risk before, even with all the mental anguish i've endured in these years.  but this year, in this "last" stage, i've been on suicide-watch a number of times.  i've had to write and sign my first ever suicide-contract this summer.  and the anxiety is incredible.  the irony that stress excaberates mental illnesses does not escape me, in fact that looms large, because the reality is that i experience this condition in some very drastic ways (like struggling to breathe for the better part of two months because my immune system has been under attack from my inability to cope with constant stress brought on by dealing with the dept of edu.  thankyouverymuch).

so in the interest of needing to resolve this, or at the very least, move forward rather than being locked in the state of limbo of waiting for something, the threat of whatever, the huge shoe of the gov to trample me, like a lil nuisance, a pissant perhaps.  i can't continue to wait, indefinitely.  so i will be taking some steps like contacting supervisors, secretaries of departments, and other peoples in key positions.

it's time for me to exert what pressure i can instead of being pressured to the point of popping.  cuz believe me folks, it ain't pretty.

Get Here

There are those songs which speak to certain situations, certain conditions, certain relationships, and certain people.  One of those songs that captures that way that I feel sometimes when I am really troubled by the physical distance between my guy and I is Oleta Adams's "Get Here".  I know that two hours to some may not seem very far, especially when there are those in the military who maintain long-distance relationships.  I do see my guy almost every weekend, so it is like he has two homes.  Most of the time, I'm ok.  I mean, I miss him, but most times I can just be ok with knowing that I will see him soon.

But every now and then, I get a strong sharp pang that cries, "I don't care how you get here, just get here if you can."  I'm sure most of you can relate.  And Oleta's voice is so strong, sweet, and true.  Cuts to the marrow.

Le Mon says, "stand by me"

Le Mon says,

g'n'nite ya'll

Le Mon says,

ok dudes, i need some feedback, which of the Le Mon graphix are easiest on the eyes and appeal the most.  i don't want to get too complicated, but i do know that if i get something down then it will flow lots smoother.  I realize some of the color and font size (hell, maybe even font style, tho i am partial to lucinda handwriting, so i may have veto powers!) are better than others.  it's been easier and faster and more convenient to do this generated on internal software than to scan my sheets in (tho i can do that when i am at home and no doubt will, but for Le Mon, he's a trippy dude (thanks russ!!) that may have found his digs in paint versus sketches).

Le Mon says,

bare with me, i'm 'spermenting with size and colors and features and such.

muwah, darlink

Dah LI lahhhhhhhhhhhh, the queen of sap

ahhhhhhhh, comfy

tomorrow temps are said to be 85, which is schwunnerfullest, esp considering we just got thru 6 weeks of 100+ temps.  me and le mon'll be hangin'.  chillin'.  being coooooool.  oooh, yeah....sigh.  mmmmm.

(it's sad that i'd rather hang with a simple paint creation rather than be social in real-time.  but i LIKE le mon.)

Pu'cher big girl panties on and...

new for me

since i don't have access to my scanner always when i have access to the net, i thought i would try something simple (cuz that was very challenging for me) with paint program.

Pour Some Sugar on Me

this is another Luke Chueh that i like

Pharm-Life

Luke Chueh has a series on exhibit entitled "Paintings of Hope and Hopelessness".  I really like this one

as she balefully glowers

Yesterday, my guy and I went out for the evening.  First we went to a lil pizza place downtown off the square that has the best New York style pizza I've encountered in Mississippi.  Then we went to Uptown Coffee which is uhm downtown, off the square.  Later we went to the last showing of "3:10 to Yuma".  I say 'last showing' because for some reason this theater doesn't show midnight movies, so the last showing could start anywhere from 9:30 to 10:45.  I like midnight movies, so I was more than a tad confused.

I must say that this remake of "3:10 to Yuma" (which is originally based on Elmore Leonard's short of the same name) with its cast of Russel Crowe, Christian Bale, Ben Foster, and many others, is gritty and yet believable, for the most part.  If you like westerns, than this movie is sure to be a big hit with you.  If you don't care for westerns but do like movies with punch, great character development, and a touch of history, than this movie will do it for ya, too.  In fact the only thing this movie isn't rich with is slap-stick schtick and vapid romance.  And when is the last time you thought of that type of flat-characterization as 'rich'?

So my point is, catch the "3:10".

moving right along...

since the chili pie was so good, i thought i'd try making chili rellenos quiche.  eggs, a bit of flour and baking powder and salt, some chopped green chilies, cottage cheese, grated cheddar, and butter.  it is in the oven now and smells pretty tasty.

i may try making a breakfast cobbler, with canned fruit and oj and granola cereal, for dessert.

must feather my nest some more, ta-ta!

further adventures of Domestic Debra

do NOT make the grapenut casserole, i love grapenuts and i am usually pretty easy going toward food in general but grapenut casserole does not taste good.  maybe i didn't let it cook long enough, but yuck!  shudder.  it has good stuffs that would taste great when blended, like sugar, eggs, vanilla, grapenuts and baked.  but dude!  it smelled like popcorn and tasted awful.

hope i'm not pregnant.  i've heard that does weird things to a woman's taste/smell-buds.

pavarotti, arrivederci

farewell to you, tenor of the high c's.

pancreatic cancer has claimed yet another.

we'll miss you.

the domestication continues

we went for coffee, and while we were speaking about my guy's dissertation proposal, i was crocheting a hat.  the irony did not escape me that it must have made for an odd picture, me with my tats and 'do-rag, crocheting like mad, the cotton thread cone spinning around quickly, and the two of us having a very serious conversation about statistics, methodology, and lit reviews.

when we got home, to his place, i sauteed some onions, added hashbrowns, eggs, yogurt, and cheese, threw the egg casserole in the oven.  ran around, loading the dishwasher, washing/drying/folding clothes, dashing off emails, and "cleaning" (this means that i took apart and then soaked, scrubbed, and reassembled) the can-opener.

my guy appears to be happier than a clam with all this domestication.

domesticated debra

anyone who knows me, knows that i have great intentions regarding cooking, yet very rarely follow-thru (hence the usage of the word "intentions").  yes, yes, i realize that the road to hell is paved with great intentions (and republicans) but i figure we all gotta start somewhere, and since i've ridden to hell in a hand-basket, i'm strolling back on the pavement.  it's hot, hot, hot and me, i forgot my shoes.  really, who wears shoes when riding in a hand-basket, i ask you!

so in an effort to improve our eating at home habits (namely by eating at home versus grabbing a bite out), we went to walmart after midnight (where we're gonna let it all hang out has new and frightening meanings) and did a week's worth of shopping.  it was a huge first for me, cuz i actually knew what i was gonna get beforehand and (gasp!) made a list, and (gasp!) stuck to it!

so today, i made chili pie.  i actually followed a recipe (which is very odd for me, cuz i tend to use a recipe simply as a guideline, altering as i see fit).  and tonight, i will make egg casserole.

my guy just walked in the door, which means we are to go out and get coffee so we can talk.  hey!  it's an improvement over eating out and can be a huge change if i don't splurge and get some fru-fru frappe.

hey, over here...i'm over here!

not to worry about the inactivity of my journal this past weekend.  i went to visit a dear friend, greta.  now, i am visiting my guy.  he comes to see me almost every weekend, driving about 2 hrs one way and never complains.  i go visit him at his place maybe 4 or 5 times a year, and stay for a week or so each time.

even tho i rested lots while i was at greta's, it was still more activity than usual for me and so i would check my mail, leave a few comments for russ, and then hit the sack.  today i drove to my guy's, which meant that i was extremely tired upon arrival (he's about 3 hrs from greta's new place) and so we napped.  i'll be visiting with him for the better part of a week, my landlords are furrbee feeding and sassyfron sitting.

anyway, there will probably be a glut of scanned debra-doodles when i arrive home.  but since i have no scanner avail to me here, at His's place, i'll just be posting text from time to time.  have no worries, i'm not stuck in the hospital or passed out unattended in my home.