Changing Butter

I never look at the page on Blogger when you first go in there to start a new post, but I am wondering if they have yet come up with a device that you could, say, imbed in your shoulder or thigh that allows you to compose a blog post while you are in the middle of the bedlam. That would really help me out. Yesterday was a fairly lazy day, which I needed after a rough week, but when I did finally make it out the door to do some half-hearted errands, the world around me crashed in upon me with all manor of blog-worthy irritants. And now, Sunday morning and half way through my "coffee" (I put that in quotes because it seems I cannot drink regular plain old coffee anymore so I drink chai tea), I can barely remember what it was that irritated me so.

Except do you ever have one of those mornings/days where you just cannot seem to operate the moving vehicle beneath you? The other day I was just battling it - accelerating before a stop light, attention wandering and missing turns, completely unable to keep the car between the lines, scoping out the dark skies to see if perhaps it was a full moon and I am some sort of crazy-werewolf-type person who is affected by that kind of thing, which certainly wasn't helping my driving.

Today's top news, by the way, is all about icy roads, and I thought I might remind you that it is March 30th, in Portland. It has been colder than shit and frankly, I'm a little bit pissed off about it. Last week it snowed just about every day from Wednesday. I mean, not sticking snow, but snow. And hail, and completely blue clear skies, and driving rain. It's Armageddon. It's the only explanation I have.

So I'm at the Fred Meyer yesterday, working through a list that I had composed from home and then inexplicably followed to the letter (I write lists all the time, but I generally either forget them on the kitchen counter or leave them in my purse and do not consult them while shopping which makes me forget half the stuff on them), when I discovered that the Fred Meyer stopped carrying my butter (I say "butter" but really I mean margarine-style spread. God only knows what it really is). The problem with my butter (I'm just gonna keep calling it that and you guys can keep referring to my explanation of what my butter really is) (it's just easier to type "butter") is that I have been using the same brand for let's say 4 years, taking into consideration that this butter was not available in Cancun, but every time (and I am completely serious) I need butter and go to the supermarket I can't remember the name of it. Or even what it looks like. So when I get to the butter section I have to sit there and say (sometimes out loud), "Was it Country Crock? Brummel and Brown? Canola Harvest? Hmmm. Promise. It was Promise. I'll get the Promise. Or is it Country Crock?" About 50 percent of the time I would choose the wrong one but then wouldn't realize it until I finally found myself spreading it on my toast and ripping the shit out of my Dave's Killer Rockin' Rye. Or, you know, when I get it home and realize it doesn't match the one that's in my refrigerator (who waits until there is ABSOLUTELY NO BUTTER LEFT to go get more?). My POINT is, yesterday I actually WROTE DOWN THE BRAND that I buy (it's Canola Harvest, just in case the suspense was killing you), only to get to the Fred Meyer and find that it is no longer available there.

So I bought Country Crock.

Now you know.

But it's the little things like that that make me shudder on errand-day. That and the fact that mid-afternoon at the Fred Meyer is bring-your-offspring-to-the-market hour, and this only applies to those families for whom discipline is a non-event in the home. I had the same three Indian kids running at me in five different aisles, and this should be surprising since I didn't do the aisle-to-aisle thing this time, I just went to the aisles where the stuff I needed was. But sure enough, turn a corner and here are these three screaming Indian kids, running right at me. I had to do some fancy last-minute maneuvers several times to avoid a squatting child, a father-daughter team that just decided NOW was the right time to just stop in the middle of everything, and of course every time those three little Indian kids came barrelling out from no where. I guess I like the 9am supermarket scene. I have learned to live with old people and their motorized carts. The purring sound seems to sooth me.

So that's pretty much it, I guess. Today Barbie and I will run to the mall (she needs mascara - something I buy at the Fred Meyer, but that's Barbie), on a Sunday, and AFTER church hours. It's an adventure in the making.

If only I had that blogger device already imbedded in my thigh, I might be able to share it with you.

Pas la meme chose

Pardon me for just assuming that the "meme" in "meme" is "meme". I'll run with it.

That Rivergirl tagged me, in her infinite wisdom. My assumption is it's because I have nothing to write about anymore. I also assume I am to tag others when done. I'll do it anyway, even if it's not la meme meme. Anyway, here goes nothing.

What are your top 3 favorite foods?
Coffee, though I think full caf is starting to take its toll, sushi, and anything seafood-ish. Does that include sushi, I wonder? So is that only two? If so, then, um, how about papadzules? Yeah, since this first question has already stumped me, I'll go with papadzules.

What was the last book you read and would you recommend it?
"No Country For Old Men" so now I won't see the movie. And yes I would recommend it, and did, to my brother.

What are your top 3 favorite places?
Okay. How about Merida (Mexico), Cannon Beach (Oregon), and the Coach store at Bridgeport.

What was the last lie you told?
White lie? Or really big lie? I guess it would be that I had plans for Easter, but it really wasn't a LIE, I mean, the way I phrased it wasn't really LYING, it was more like making a statement. Like this: Question: Shelia's having Easter dinner, are you coming? Answer: No, I was invited to a friend's house. See? Statement. I didn't say I was GOING to the friend's house.

What are your favorite 3 sports (to watch or participate in)?
Finally, something simple. Football, baseball and futbol.

What was the last movie you watched and would you recommend it?
I wish I could say "American Gangster" but it's not on OnDemand yet and my DVD player isn't hooked up. So I'd say the last full movie I watched was "The Player" for the 4000th time and yes, yes I would. It's awesome.

List 3 things you can see outside of the nearest window.
Well, it's night time. So I can see the fool who doesn't close his blinds but has to dress with the light on, a small tree, and puddles of rain.

Where was the last place you went?
Went? Um, work, the bank, and the Starbucks drive through on Cornell by the Streets of Tanasbourne.

What are your top 3 favorite “good causes” or charities?
Ciudad de la Alegria in Cancun, Habitat for Humanity (like I even volunteer, good Lord), and the Clara Jean foundation. Check 'em out.

What was the last thing you did for someone else?
Bought some flowers. :)

Name 3 places you have never been that you want to visit.
Ireland, Puerto Escondido and Canada. What the hell. I have two open chat windows going on right now and doing this meme right before bed time is pretty much killing me.

What was the last thing you threw in the garbage/recycling?
An empty cat food can.

Name 3 things on your bedside table.
A lamp, the demon alarm clock and a crystal pelican.

Describe or name the last piece of art you looked at.
Photos, actually, from a guy whose wife I work with - here's the link to his site. He has a store in Depoe Bay and his shit is the bomb.

What are the top 3 things that your job requires you to think about?
Top three? That is fucking HILARIOUS. If all I had to do was think of three TOP things, this job would be CAKE. I have to pretty much think about EVERYBODY ELSE'S PROBLEMS BUT MY OWN, I can't make a hair appointment, forget about going to the doctor, lunch, the bank, come on, it is ALL ABOUT EVERYONE ELSE. Top three? Who could sort that out, beyond everyone is an asshole. (I'm on a really busy desk this week...)

What was the last musical or theatrical event that you attended?
Somebody was playing bagpipes at the bar on the Saturday before St. Paddy's. Does that count?

What are the first 3 things you would do if you won the lottery?
First thing? Pay off my car and my Visa. Second, talk to a financial advisor. Third, move the hell out of Portland.

Describe or name the last serious injury or illness you had?
I'd like to say it was the polio, but alas it was a blockage in my colon because I ate too much cheese. It's true.

What are the top 3 things that you wish you could do?
I'll tell you what I WOULDN'T want to do - fit my fist in my mouth. That's just gnarly. But um I guess, I don't know, write well, speak fluent Spanish, and run a 5 minute mile. There.

What was the last thing that someone said to you that you will remember forever?
Hm. It's odd but I can't remember. Not right now, but I will. And I'll come back and edit, I promise. It's just, well, look what time it is! It's past my bedtime and all, and I'm slightly cranky, so I better think about it.

Thanks, RG. Sheesh. You don't need to do it, but I will tag Gabatcha, Heather, and Mexico Way again because she needs the double-tag.

Good night!

More kitty pics

You know, they really are cute kittens. I know the following pictures don't give them much justice, but ordinarily they don't walk around with such annoyed looks on their faces as these photos might suggest. Honestly.




I gotta go, Seca is having a psychotic episode and I have to save the window blinds.

My kitties don't like to get their picture taken.

People ask, I deliver.

*** DELETED BY THE DORK ***

I have some still photos of them but they suck kinda because they hate the camera. Oh hell I have a little time, I'll post some. Oh wait no I won't because I haven't uploaded them yet. What a dork.

Hm. I've never posted a vid before, and I'm not using YouTube, so this is taking some time. One more M to go, whatever that means. I hope this works. If not, I promise when I get home from taking Tom to the grocery store, going to Target and going to Washington Square I'll fix it.

Fuck it didn't work. Okay, you know what, I am just going to try it on YouTube, which I've never done. Let's try this again.



Okay, let's publish and see what happens.

Okay apparently it's still processing. I really don't have this kind of time. Um... okay, I'll go prep the purse and get my shit together and maybe when I come back it will have finished processing.

Well, I'm back, and it worked. I would just like to add that I had no idea my camera had audio on the video gig. So, yeah. That's how I talk now. Sorry. My social skills have completely disintegrated.

Okay then, off to drive several laps around greater SW Portland... Enjoy the bunnies!

Recovery

So as it turns out, I'm not getting any younger.

Kind of surprising to me.

Saturday night I agreed to go out with Marsha, Karen, Michaeline and Steve. I say I agreed because after the last going-out adventure with Marsha, last month, on a school night no less, was rather draining, and I was mildly aware that it wasn't a fluke. In other words, I was frightened.

We met on the train (interestingly enough we all made the same train and car from different stops) and went to The Thirsty Lion in Old Town. It's a big English Pub (funny, since it was packed with St. Patrick's Day revellers), usually pretty roomy, but as I said, packed. The line for Kell's, on the other hand, was around the block a couple of times, with a $20 cover charge for our "free". We managed a booth and two tables (don't ask) and in honor of what I used to call My Christmas, I drank pints of Stella (again, don't ask) (Okay, I'll answer - I never go anywhere they serve it and I like it) (Plus I wasn't really thinking about it). Anyhoo, it was all fine and dandy until the first shot, because, after all, you knew there'd be shots.

So yeah, Michaelene and Steve left at a reasonable hour and the good Lord only knows how long the three of us stayed after, though I do know it was before midnight because my day long pass for the Max was still good. We trained down to the Broadway Saloon of all places (easy walking distance from the train) and continued the merriment. Which included making some girl cry (I don't know how or why but people just spill there stories out to me) and of course several more shots. I can't be trusted.

I have to say here that we had a really good time. I mean, I love the whole social thing that goes along with spending half a day in a bar. It's just a little bit dangerous anymore.

I got home at 3:30am. And you know, when you think about it, having started at 5, that's a LOT of drinking. Sunday morning I was still drunk (but I think I got up at like 8 so that makes physical sense) and spent the whole (and I mean WHOLE) day on the sofa. I couldn't even eat anything until like 4pm. Complete waste of a day. Didn't do any laundry, didn't run the dishwasher, didn't even put in my contacts.

The thing is, too, that I did not go to a training seminar on Saturday because I worked the auction last week and I wanted a full weekend to do some errands that cannot be done during the week. And this is what I get instead.

Even this morning I felt like I went out last night. It can't be good when it takes two full days to recover. This is why I rarely go out. Once something is done about this whole shot thing I got going on, I might be able to trust myself again. But I don't see it happening soon. Nice.

So tonight I continue my recovery, and tomorrow will continue with the green tea IV drip, and will get plenty of rest and drink plenty of water and try to figure out what people who DON'T drink do for fun.

Ugh.

Happy Birthday Cancun Canuck!

I didn't know it until I logged on to Cancuncare today, but what the heck, a little Happy Birthday shout out to that lovable (and popular!) blogging Canuck, Kelly! Go on over to her blog and wish her a great day! I hope it's a great one!

I realize now that I really should vacuum more, since the bunnies are still not used to the complete pandemonium that vacuuming is. It takes me about 8 minutes to actually vacuum and andother 2 hours to calm the kitnesses down afterward.

I should be in the bathroom right now, arranging the birds' nest that is my hair into something reasonably palatable for all the errands I have today, and yet, here I am. I have to take my car in for service (which is stupid to me since it only has 4400 miles on it but the little wrench light is on the dash and it's time, I guess), do some grocery shopping, and then get back over here so Tom can try to rehook the exhaust hose back to my dryer (he offered, I didn't ask) that the kitties have pulled off in learning how to get on the washer and dryer. They love their namesakes!

I was going to say something about the word (?) "Oops" and how it drives me a little bit batty when people spell it "Opps" but I think this sentence pretty much sums it up. And plus now I am a little scattered because I really need to get in there and get ready. It's not just running down to Beaverton Honda and making my appointment - it's going downstairs with a garbage bag and a dust rag and cleaning out the car FIRST and THEN stopping at Starbucks and THEN going to the Beaverton Honda. So I really should just motor.

I've been up since 6am and I was supposed to go to an OLTA training seminar today but I can't do the car thing during the week so I better make the most of this Saturday.

A Happy Birthday Saturday at that!

A taxing waxing tale.

I decided today that I have ignored the insane amount of hair on my face for far too long, and since it wasn't raining yet and is supposed to rain starting tonight and lasting until July 5th, I put my mind on waxing.

When I first started with the eyebrow waxing thing, my "friend" told me that after a few waxes I wouldn't really ever have to do it again, or at least not very often. That was like in 2002. Now if I go even 4 weeks without waxing I look like a caveman. I think my facial hair grows FASTER now. So the waxing industry I'm sure is happy to report that way back in 2002 another slave was born. But it isn't just about removing facial hair.

I started out having it down at my salon every 5 weeks when I have my hair done. Easy - one stop shopping. Then my wax girl there met a guy from Cirque du Soleil and ran off with him (or some dang thing), and I moved to Mexico. I think I went a good solid month and a half without maintenance when I first moved there, and finally got the sac to make an appointment at Dharma Spa. Which was great - I loved Lulu and the fact that we could just barely communicate. When I moved back to Portland I had Xiang at Nail Express do the duty, and she talked me into the lip wax. Who knew I had a mustache? And later, who knew I had a soul patch? These people, man, nothing but wax pushers.

I liked Xiang, I really did/do. It's just that it's not in and out, like I like it. She just chats and chats and oh my God just remove the hair and let me get the hell out of here! So I sort of phased her out, and started at this place in the Washington Square Mall - same cost, but an Aveda salon. Nice, peaceful, aromatherapeutic, blah blah blah, and some Russian chick. By appointment number two she wanted to be my best friend. So after four appointments, I started dreading the wax situation. I mean, I don't mind the mindless blather most of the time, but you know, when you STOP the service to continue with your chit chat you're eating into MY TIME now, and really, I just want the job done. My problem is I get too friendly. And since probably nobody else does, the poor waxing girls (what are they called really, anyway?) are so starved for conversation they just can't help themselves.

So today, I could have gone back to the Gigi Salon, but I just didn't have the strength (erm, lack of blood?) to go in there and paste a fake smile for the benefit of Natalya or whatever her name is. Couldn't do it. So I asked Nicky for a suggestion, and she pointed me in the direction of a place over by the Target near work.

I went in and nobody was there besides three staff members animatedly chatting away in Vietnamese, which is good and bad - good because they took me immediately, bad because if I like the place it will probably close for lack of business. The lady had no English, beyond the words "You", "like" and "OK", which is good for me, and I found myself actually having to stop myself from trying to chat her up. The problem is I am just so dang friendly. I am not building any kind of a relationship with this lady. I'll just go back in there next time and not chat and I'll be in and out of there in 10 minutes, the way God intended it. It was hard to do, and my eyebrows are mildly uneven, and I had to stop her from waxing the entire left side of my face, but she didn't/couldn't waste my time chit chatting and it was cheap and I no longer look like Albert Einstein. Mission accomplished.

When did being stupid become en vogue?

It's no question that most of the time that I am home the TV is on. I like the background noise, coming from a large family. I have the ability to read (and retain), clean, and even blog, with the TV on. I have some standard channels that are generally on while I am doing anything other than focussing on the program, like FoodTV, or Bravo, MTV if there is a ANTM marathon (but even that gets old), Biography, History Channel, that kind of thing. It kind of doesn't matter so much the quality of those background programs. But for whatever reasons, I tend to focus on the commercials.

Perhaps it is because they play the same ones over and over again. I promise, by the way, that this isn't NECESSARILY a rant about the commercials themselves. I think it sort of transcends that. But here's where the idea of this post (and believe me, when I haven't got a lot to report, I have to really dig deep to even post at all) was born: that stupid campaign that Philadelphia cream cheese has had going on for like ever.

You know the one. The brunette (the smart one) and the blond (the stupid one) are apparently angels (on account of the wings) and run into all manner of madcap adventures involving cream cheese and it's many variations. The blond is a ditz and the brunette is clearly the voice of reason and rationale. I think if I were a blond I would be really insulted. Anyway, these are mundane, stupid commercials and I never really paid much attention until this morning when one came on about some chili dip recipe the brunette was preparing for their book club. The ditz was like, Did you read the book? And what made me pay attention was the brunette, who didn't answer but instead gave this (I suppose it was supposed to be wicked or knowing or something) look, and the ditz says, Me neither!

I imagine we are supposed to be charmed by that, but here's what irks me. If you are too flipping stupid, uneducated, lazy or scatterbrained to read, don't join a book club. Instead, play bunko or whatever the hell that game is that housewives tend to get involved with when they need an excuse to get away from their snivelling kids and whining husbands once a week but really just want to drink. Book clubs, I think anyway, were probably formed so that people would have the opportunity to read various books, perhaps ones they might not have picked out themselves, and discuss their perecption of it. There are a thousand other groups that stupid people could join, but please don't join a book club if you don't intend to read the books.

Now mind you, I am quite sure that there are some books you just cannot get into, can't seem to finish due to the writing style or content, or perhaps you cannot get to because of circumstances in your regular life - that's okay, shit happens. But what this commercial sort of brings to life to me is that if it's chic (as in, book clubs are chic now, so everyone's doing it) to be in one, but have no intention of (or ability to) actually reading the book so that you can contribute to the discussion in a social setting with like-minded individuals (as opposed to just being there for the chili cream cheese dip and the jello shots), then don't insult the rest of the people that LIKE to read, LIKE that they're smart, and LIKE to interact with others who share their interests. You're stupid - go buy shoes once a week instead.

Which leads me to this - I lost some respect (I know this won't sound very sane) for the brunette angel because after all this time of being the level-headed one, she showed her true colors and admitted she didn't read the book either. As if to say, See? It doesn't matter that I'm not a blond - I can be just as stupid as you! I'm supposed to say, Oh those crazy Philly cream cheese angels up there in heaven! They're just as madcap as us down here on earth! We are often (and especially on TV) faced with the two odds - the smart one and the stupid one - and I always associate with the smart one. Because stupid people really bother me, and I think I'm smart (or maybe I just lack patience).

But also because I don't find it anything to be proud of to be a complete balloon-head and have no desire to get a flipping clue. I can dig perhaps having a tougher time retaining things, but at least try. Despite what "they" would have you believe, being cute but stupid will not get you anywhere in life. Not anywhere good anyway. Because once you lose your looks then you're out of luck.

It's just another one of the long list of pet peeves I have: people thinking that their air-headedness is charming. It isn't. It's tedious. Just don't be around me because I don't want to be bothered with it. I change the channel on TV, I'll walk away from you. And shame on the media for glorifying stupid people and making the masses believe it's okay not to improve your mind.

Happy Birthday to Brianna ~ !

The kitties are okay, I think. I mean, having a big hole in their bellies super-glued shut hasn't seem to slow them down. When I brought them home Tuesday night they crashed for most of the evening (the vet said not to let them jump on anything or play with anything, and the first thing they did was jump on the sofa), but since then, nope. It's as if nothing happened. Except that I see the little glued-shut flap of skin on their shaved bellies and think how it HAS to hurt. Last night they were actually rough-housing, and the vet told me I shouldn't let that happen, either, but they're kittens and I work all day.

So I have been in Lincoln Tower all week, not covering anyone in particular, helping out with some auction stuff (we have another auction tomorrow - just a one-day gig, maybe 55 houses more or less), doing my thing, but today I go to Orenco Station for the day. Hence the post at 7am. Nobody gets there til like 7:45am and it's hard getting used to that. I did manage to lobby a casual day, though. And though I waited patiently all week long to do sushi with John and Nicky and Christine, only to find that I wouldn't be on their side of the world today, I am still getting to meet that John Boy at another sushi place in Tanasbourne. It'll be a good day.

And it'll be a REALLY good day for that Brianna ~ it's her BIRTHDAY! So let's sing -

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday dear Brianna
Happy Birthday to you!

I don't have any pictures of her, but she wouldn't be able to see it anyway if I did post something, so I won't make the effort to google "cartoon ballons" and post the image.

I guess I've killed enough (of all of our) time this morning. Guess I'll just stop at a Starbucks on the way in.

Happy Friday ~

For Beckla

Sometimes if you look up you'll know he's always going to be with you.

Take care, little Beckla.

Under the knife

Poor little kitlets. Tomorrow they go under the knife. I am oddly stressing kind of big-time over it. Marita did not help today when she "voiced" my fears (via email) - something along the lines of "won't you feel bad, leaving them alone, with strangers?" Um, yeah! I kind of under-shot their birthday I think, or they are just early-bloomers - they are both in heat (Seca for sure anyway) so they have been driving me just a wee bit crazy this last week or so. And they are tearing the apartment apart. Just going batshit. I don't expect them to come back from the vet all fat and lazy, but I am hoping for just a LITTLE bit of calmness. Just take it down a little notch. Or twelve.

So tomorrow morning I put them in the kitty carrier, throw them in the liz and drive them over to Tigard. They are going to LOVE me for this. I pick them back up later, and then we'll see if they ever speak to me again. Poor little bunnies.

So anyway, I survived last week's branch (and so did that assistant, it should be noted - I never actually YELLED at her once. You know, YELLED. By definition.) and am back in Lincoln Tower for a few weeks, so that is sort of normal. I got a great review today from my boss, so I guess life just keeps going on. I'm sure the three of us will get past tomorrow too.