And How is YOUR Week Going?

It's been a week.

After two good-sized dinner parties this weekend, the dishwasher died. That sucks. However, Special Agent and I patted each other on the back for wisely carrying appliance protection repair through our natural gas provider. This has come in handy in the past. I called breezily on Monday, only to be informed that somehow, our coverage did not transfer to the new service at this address..TWO YEARS AGO. Fail.  I wanted to be angry and snarky, but it wasn't the operator's fault, and I couldn't really insist they cover  us when we haven't paid for the service in TWO YEARS. I kind of wanted to snark at Special Agent, since he didn't notice it on the bill, and then I remembered that neither of us has an eye for bill detail and are mostly just glad we remembered to pay them. Frown.

NEVER FEAR! Special Agent and I decided to combine my talent for Google searching with his talent for cursing at inanimate objects, but still no success. The kitchen looked very mechanic-y for a while, but no success. Damn you LG! We are calling in the experts before we have to mortgage the house to continue buying little, tiny parts. I feel a little bad for Special Agent, since he was already sharpening his pencil to add dishwasher repair to his list of "shit I can fix".  I still have faith he could do it, but neither one of us wants to continue doing the dishes by hand while we figure it out. Reinforcements....tomorrow at 8  am.

The dining room chair also broke a leg off, which sent me into a furious frenzy, mostly since it hurt my self esteem, electing to fail when I sat on it (I've been working out!). The dining set is only a few years old, and the legs of the chairs have broken steadily since we bought it. I had no idea you could buy a lemon in a furniture store.

In other news, the taller of the Baboos recently got a cell phone. I know, I know, I already gave my self the lecture that she was too young, I wouldn't cave to pressure from knowing allllllllllll the other kids have them, and that I am now introducing my daughter to the debauchery of technology even earlier than necessary. Yeah. I've got all that.  I have flashbacks of her in the car seat, talking to my boss on her pretend Elmo phone, saying in a two year old voice,

"Hi Bob."
"no, no, ok"
"Cawll ju back?"

The new cell phone is kind of skinny, just enough that it slides right out of her hand. I bark at her occasionally about this, and then remind myself that I launched it across the kitchen days earlier when I was trying to pick it up and move it to higher ground. SO, a cover is definitely needed.

But not just any. old. cover.
NYET!

We need to browse the covers for ones with sports teams, cute designs, color variations etc. Sadly, my technological daughter knows about Ebay. I know this because she sat in my ear while I tried to work several days in a row, trying to show me each and every cover she found, lamenting about the trouble searching for her exact phone, and how they could calculate that much shipping for an item that weighs the same as a handful of large paperclips. She is learning a lot.

Finally, I broke down and helped her look through the scads of options, which is what she really wanted me to do in the first place. She settled on this number for $9.95.

I used my PayPal Account and told her
it was coming out of her college fund.

This morning I realized that in addition to the $9.95 I paid through Paypal for the cell phone cover (now in Baboo's  possession and much loved), I was also charged 51.34 by Ebay. *sigh*. I called the bank and contested the charge, and had to cancel my checkcard and promise I did not really lend the card to my friend/neighbor/bum on the street.  

In several years, he will need to add "and viagra" to his sign..

The 20-something bank operator was a little snarky to me, and obviously has no idea how important I am to Wells Fargo.  Ebay didn't even allow me to speak to anyone, just gave me an automated laundry list of the things I needed to send to them in order to dispute the charge (when disputing false credit card charges has it's own listing in the main menu of the automated phone program, that can't be good.).

Post-workout and credit card disputing, in lieu of working today, (or cleaning the house including doing more dishes) I will research and spend more time thinking about my upcoming vacation.

Those two of you that follow the blog religiously (thanks!) will be happy to know that we have finally decided to go to the Dominican Republic for our vacay instead of the dreaded Disney. I know, I know, you Disney lovers. Our kids will be in therapy, blah, blah. I shared my own guilt with Special Agent who agreed he felt REALLY SORRY for the baboos getting to go to a tropical paradise, swim with dolphins, zipline through the jungle and play on the beach. Poor them, says he.

This is ABSOLUTELY how I look in a bikini...from this distance
Don't come closer!!

June, are you here yet?

Sibling Rivalry...I need to stay off of YouTube

I am all about the YouTube Videos this week. This was was too good, and timely with Mother's Day. My Mom knows I couldn't get away with just a sweet post. She knows my layers don't roll that way.

Word up, Mom. I love ya. I am not sure which represents me and which represents sister in this parody. We trade off. I think I might be the one in the back.

Happy Mother's Day

I wrote this quick bit for a local magazine, The Wyoming Woman. It's a bit trite, but what can i say? It was about  my Mudder.

My Mom was strict, but we don’t remember her that way.  From the time we were small, we just knew it was best if we did as we were told, didn’t give lip, and stayed out of trouble. She rarely resorted to hands-on discipline because she had us under mind control early on.  When the boat of good behavior sprung a leak, as it always will, she would start with a small glance in your direction. The glance said “stop it”.  On the occasion that we failed to get the message and continued, we would get the full on big browns with the eyebrow arch. This said “Stop. It. Now.  Or you will be sorry”. The look didn’t yell. The eyes didn’t bulge. But they meant business.

My Mom built my self-esteem, but I don’t remember her that way. She told us early on that we weren’t better than anyone else, but no worse either. She praised my accomplishments and encouraged me when I fell down to try, try again. She felt bad for me when it still didn’t produce the result I wished for.  When there was nothing to say, she said nothing. She told us that while it was nice to be important, it was more important to be nice.  We all grew to realize that even though we were all relatively average, we were special in our very average way. We were always good enough.

My Mom was a strong woman, but I don’t remember her that way. Although she faced hardships in her life, she didn’t lay down. Like all women, she knew that the best way to overcome a situation was to be flexible and adapt to a new challenge or environment. If adapting bothered her, we didn’t see it. If she had self-doubt, we didn’t see it.  She didn’t show weakness, or need rescuing.  She was solid as a rock without having to shout.

My Mom loved us every day, but I don’t remember it that way. She didn’t shower us with affection all day, didn’t helicopter around, cookie tray in hand, like Donna Reed.  She respected us, told us the truth and was quick to share a laugh. She let us sit on her lap when we were teenagers. She sacrificed her own needs when we were too self-absorbed to notice. She reminded us often that she was our mother, but not our friend.  She would be there for us even when we didn’t agree that we needed her.  She would lay in traffic for us, but would kick us in the britches if we got too big for them.

My mom and I are now both adult women. We have now shared in the hardships and struggles of marriage and motherhood. I see her differently now, as if sharing her path has lifted the veil.  I feel like I finally know her as a woman instead of just as my Mother.  And I think now, I call her friend..if she'll let me.

Like You Haven't Seen it on Facebook...

I know, I know...you saw it. But watch it again. It's so funny.

I have spent a lot of hours at previous jobs creating voices for others, but I have yet to do it for the dog.
And tape it.
But, I could get there.
I have more free time now.

Happy Saturday. Enjoy laying on the couch.

If Wishes Were Horses, Mine Would Be a Jackass - II Challenge

My Indie Ink Challenge for this week from Andrea at Wordy Living was: your bad wishes to people suddenly come true - you wished your loud neighbour would go numb and it's happened; your gossipy colleague suddenly starts to shout whenever he tries to tell a story about someone behind their back... what else happens?


I really, REALLY struggled with this challenge. It just kept getting longer and longer. It's a fantastic idea, and I was truly challenged. I wish I could put it away to work on later (read: start over), but alas, tick tock; Indie Ink waits for no man. :-)

I challenged Supermaren here, and I love what she came up with...

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
 I was in a foul mood. I chided myself for behaving immaturely as I slogged through town, stopping at yet another red light.

"C'mon you bastard...." I harrumphed to the stoplight.

It changed.

I blinked at the seemingly short wait and internally groused. Yes, it was THAT kind of day.

I parked in the parking garage and lugged the work I had taken home over my shoulder like Santa carries his bag of toys, but a helluva a lot less fun. The strap of my briefcase dug into my shoulder. I shrugged, trying to readjust the load.

I gave my best friend Marjorie the snarky eyebrow as I walked past her desk with my Sherpa-heavy load. Our cubicles didn't really allow for anything verbal expression, especially the way I was thinking. Kissing ass was welcome, as was towing the company line. The Office Nazi held court right next to the main hallway, akin to the teacher's pet sitting in the front of the classroom. Nothing, and I mean, nothing got by her. She made it worse by being extra friendly and "helpful". And, if you weren't careful, she would "help" you right out of your job, thanks.

I sloughed my bag off of my shoulder and my purse, lunch and extra bag of crud along with it, all landing in a heap. I fished my laptop out of the bag and hung everything in the square box I lived in for exactly 8 hours per day. I checked my incoming messages, skimming over the work reminders and meeting notices and instead reading with relish the emails from friends. I laughed quietly to myself.

My cubicle mate Rob did NOT laugh quietly. Instead he talked annoyingly loud, typed annoyingly loud, and snorted and coughed a lot. He also occasionally farted in our shared airspace, which was swell. Today was an especially great day to be his neighbor, since he had been talking non-stop since I had arrived. He was making it tough to enjoy my personal emails.

"Please shut up..." I muttered.

Silence.

I cocked my head and listened. Really? ...he had to have just finished his conversation.... no, no, he was really on a roll and was not near the end I had come to recognize. I peeked around the barrier to make sure he hadn't gotten a piece of the stinky beef jerky he was always eating stuck in his gullet. I watched his back as he typed...quietly.

Weird.

Thinking back to the stoplight, I decided I needed to test this theory out a little more, so I made a bee-line for my Marjorie's desk. I thought she might think I had smoked my breakfast if I told her the whole truth, so I just pretended to wing by for a chat. This was not really within the Office-Nazi-behavior-code, and Marjorie was nervous.

"Get off of my desk, are you nuts? she asked. I gave her my best Johnny Cash sneer, saying, "Well, maybe I am..." and took a huge chomp out of the banana bread the Office Nazi kept in the shared fridge with her name emblazoned all over it. Connie hissed,"Is that the Nazi's banana bread? - Oh shit, you really do want to get fired!". She looked around, and pushed my rear off of her desk. "Get out of here!" I tossed the saran wrap at her and brushed the  crumbs off of my hands. I stood tall and announced to no one in particular "I hope the Office Nazi learns to value me as an employee and as a person, or may she cluck like the hen she is whenever our boss is around". Connie shoved me out of her cubicle, saying "there must be weed in that banana bread..". I winked at her.

I cocked an eye for the Nazi as i scurried back to my desk, suddenly doubting my new superpowers. If I was wrong I was totally screwed. However, my cubicle neighbor was still silently working in his cubicle and I almost checked his pulse before I saw him scratch his ear. Down the corridor, I could hear what sounded like clucking.

Weird.

The end of the day came and I continued to test my new found powers to make the elevator fail to stop on every damn floor on the way to the parking garage - yay! It also helped turn every light green as I approached. I had no idea why this was happening, and at this point I did.not.care. This rocked.

I used my powers for evil when I got to the gym and remarked to no one in particular " I wonder if anyone left their car doors unlocked?" and watched the treadmills, elliptical machines and stationary bikes thin out. I chose my favorite one. Yay, me.

hee.

I saw our obnoxious neighbor headed toward the elevator, coming in from his run. I have never met a man with the ability to smell so intensely. He must live on curry and garlic. I whispered a "takethestairs-takethestairs-takethestairs" mantra as the odor crept closer to me....aaaaaaaahhhhh.....and, turning! It worked. I let my breath out.

I breezed through the apartment doors, completely heady with power. The world was my-ine.

My boyfriend and I had been a little edgy with each other, so instead of saying hello and rushing into each other's arms at my appearance, we gave each other a raised eyebrow-shrug combo as I tossed the grocery sacks on the counter. I went to the hall to hang up my coat, saying softly..."I wish you would put away the groceries.."

My lover yelled from the hall, "go ahead and get changed. I'll put away the groceries and start dinner."

Score, a direct hit.

We chatted while he made dinner. It was delicious and I was feeling the warmth of my love creep back in. With my new found powers, there should be no more problems. It was only (ahem) a matter of time before he proposed....

My lover joked with me and I socked his arm playfully. "Get out of town!" I yelled.

He scooted his chair back, kissed me on the cheek and walked out the door.

Well....shit.

I Fix Stuff .... It's a Layer

Plan for this beautiful Monday:
1. Take baboos to school
2. Head to gym to exercise furiously to someday feel comfortable in swimwear.
3. Clean house until sparkling and hygienic
4. Battle other mothers to secure place for baboo on school's pee-wee football team
5. Clean prints from weapon.

In typical Monday fashion, the garage doors wouldn't open.

NO.

The Baboo's feared for our lives. I had not yet had any caffeine, so I stage-sighed to no one in particular, yanked the thingy and opened the garage door manually.

The Baboos were in astounded, they did not realize that things can open without electricity. Then, they went back to their phone/Ipod/video game thingys.

8:45 AM: School drop off and then to the gym. My own Ipod was MIA, and although Special Agent offered to drive it home for me (thief!), it was too late. Reading my Kindle while riding the bike somewhat lazily seemed more my speed today anyhow. Twin even joined, which really improved effort..not.  We talked about boys.

10:15 AM Grocery store (with caffeine - yay!) and plans on my mind for how to make those giant margaritas with a beer in them (don't judge) and a spicy pork tacos for a Krazy K's (cause sometimes, she is Ka-razy) Master's Program Graduation on Sat.

It's physics. 

11:30 AM - I press the garage door button before remembering it doesn't work. Grr. Must solve this issue. Special Agent is incapacitated and is not available for me to bitch to confer with about this problem. No matter, I am a research nerd and I will get to the bottom of this!

(putting on super hero cape, pushing glasses up)

I immediately ask my Facebook community deduce that it could be that the GFCI needs reset (that is the little button on the bathroom plug in, girls). Someone suggests I check the plug ins to find one. I remember these, since my hairdryer and the bathroom GFCI occasionally have it out.

I peer around the garage.......ACK!!! The freezer light if OFF. The freezer is thawing. My precious homemade lasagnas are in there. Call search and Rescue! Call the National Guard! Locate the GFCI!

"Ok folks, we seem to have a lasagna/GFCI situation.."
(This comment is in NO WAY meant as offensive to the NG who are
currently responding to the tornado ravaged south. Me and my Lasagna thank you.  

(Thank God the lamb chops had already been taken out. Ruined peach spiced lamb chops would be a sad story.  We used the kids' college fund to buy those.)

I am now tearing around the garage looking for the magic plug in. I have to storm around to the backyard shed to get an extension cord for the thawing freezer and my own dogs bark at me. Harrumph.

With the freezer back in operation, I scan some more and cannot find that damn plug in. I move the extra vehicle out of the garage. I pull out many cabinets and tool benches. I crouch on the ground and attempt to look behind heavy stuff. I tell myself we need to clean the garage. Nada - no GFCI button.

I am standing, hands on hips in the garage, looking around. I am kind of hungry, and I feel pouty. I think about kicking rocks. Instead, I eat a yogurt from the yet-to-be-put-away grocery sacks. The freezer is humming away, saving my lasagnas (I am serious about pasta, people). I am messaging Special Agent with a battery of messages that have everything and nothing to do with this situation:

Onion: Don't forget to get your license plate tags
Onion: I paid the credit card bill
Onion: We are having 8 of our friends and their children over on Sat. - Spicy Pork and Guac
Onion: Let's invite your one friend.
Onion: Let' make margaritas with a beer turned upside down in them
Onion: I would like to plant some cottonwoods in the ugly rock patch in the backyard - which means I want YOU to plant some in the backyard, please? I don't know how to run those shovel-thingys
Onion: Call me, bungholio. The garage doors issue is..an issue
Onion: Seriously, call me - the freezer is out too.
Onion: My Lasagna!

As I am eating my yogurt, I scooch some things I stacked on the workbench. Viola! (That's WA-LA to you)

See the tiny hole in the pegboard? Look closer, see the
GFCI??....now the hole cut in that makes a lot more sense. 

I cram some stick object into the button and hear the flicker of electricity. This is how Benjamin Franklin must have felt when he thought he discovered electricity. I beam.

To Special Agent:
Onion: Repaired! I fix shit. It's a Layer, yo.
Onion: The previous string of comments make me sound schizophrenic
Onion: Also, football sign ups are tonight at 5:30, which means stand in line at 3:30 with Kindle. Are you coaching?

I rolled up the extension cord in the manner in which I have seen men do it, which sometimes alludes me (Its an around the arm thing, that makes it into a tidy circle) and toss it on the workbench. I feel very butch, and I should, since I have not a stitch of makeup on, post workout. I am looking good. I need an electrician's crack to make this look perfect, but I am in spandex workout pants, so no go.

Special Agent finally finishes terrorizing criminals and writes back:

Special Agent: Yes, Assistant Coach. Are you going to share how you fixed the problem or just make me believe in your super powers?

***********************************************************
So, here is my revised list for today:

1. Take baboo's to school

2. Head to gym to exercise furiously to someday feel comfortable in swimwear.

3. Clean house until sparkling and hygienic Repair household electricity issue with poetry and verve

4. Put groceries away eventually. 

5. Eat hummus and pita chips (how did those get in my cart?) for lunch and blog.
6. Look and clock and scream at how late it is
7. Shower.

8. Battle other mothers to secure place for baboo on school's pee-wee football team

9. Clean prints from weapon.

If the house burns down tomorrow, my former brother in law did it. Because the GFCI is in PERFECT WORKING ORDER. So there.

Ahem. ((Putting cape away))

Lamb Chops and Laundry

I haven't done a food-nerd post in a while, and I am getting a little heady with all of these writing challenges so I am taking Sunday off. Ok, I lied, I am still working on an crazy Indie Ink challenge and I am stumped so I am finding other things to do. Like laundry. 


(And watching Dirty Dancing. This level of cheesy is still SO good, even after all of these years. Hold on, this is the kissing part in his cabin. ((Biting fist)))

I hate laundry. It requires you to stay home and that is something I rarely do. It also requires you to pay attention to it, which is also something I rarely do for long. 


Our formerly decrepit and world traveled washer and dryer had a buzzer that attempted to shock you into action, with it's rude bleating. 


GEEEEET-UP. (That's it) If you ignore miss this rude shout-out, it's over. You'll never go back.

Our new fancy-pants washer and dryer is quite a pair who spring forth a little chime which seems to say:


"Hi there sunshine! If it's not too much trouble, perhaps you could switch your laundry out so we can deliver it in all of its fluffy goodness soon! Doodle-de-deet-de-doot. Yeah!" (jazz hands)...


But I still ignore miss it. This makes laundry take a long, long, while. 

So I have grounded myself to the house today, chained to the happy campers in the laundry room and since my chain drags to the kitchen, I am going to a tried-and-true lamb chop recipe, along with as many vegetable from my food co op basket as possible. I am thinking broccoli flash fried in the skillet. Rice or potatoes? My upcoming beach vacation says Neither! Fruit. Fine then. 


Here is the recipe. It's soooo easy and a little spicy...just like The Onion.


Ooops...forgot the laundry. *sigh*

Dear fluffy lambs, it isn't our fault you're so delicious..

PEACH SPICED LAMB CHOPS

Rating: Outstanding

• YIELD: 4 servings (serving size: 2 chops)
• COURSE: Main Dishes

Ingredients

• 1 tablespoon brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon onion powder
• 1 teaspoon chili powder
• 1 teaspoon paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 8 (4-ounce) bone-in lamb loin chops, trimmed
• Cooking spray
• 1/3 cup peach preserves
• Preparation

• Combine first 9 ingredients in a small bowl; rub spice mixture evenly over both sides of lamb chops.
• Heat a grill pan over medium-high heat. Coat pan with cooking spray. Add lamb chops to pan, and cook for 3 1/2 minutes on each side. Brush each chop with about 1 teaspoon preserves. Turn chops over, and cook for 1 minute. Brush chops with remaining preserves. Remove from heat.

David Bonom, Cooking Light , March 2007