We're enjoying cocktails (orange juice and vodka, here) this evening while Calvin prepares to cook breakfast for dinner - steak and eggs with homefries and yummy goodness.

Calvin's playing DJ and I'm doing this entry while Marie is getting ready to go over to her maternal aunt's for the evening. Michael may or may not show up this evening - we warned him to call ahead, heh.

Calvin cleaned the kitchen - twice - while I wrapped presents and did laundry and got the grocery shopping list together. Then he and I went to Home Depot to pick up a thingamabobby to fix Marie's shower, then to Pet's Inc. for Kali's Christmas rat, then to the grocery store. He has been hugely helpful today AND he's cooking dinner. I just love him to little bitty bits.

It's a quiet evening, which will be followed by a day of furious cooking and present opening, and probably mimosas. Cuz that's just how we roll.

If I'm not around to say it tomorrow, I wish all of my friends, my readers (who are yet more friends!), my family, and any and all strangers that happen to stumble upon this modest little website a very Merry Christmas.

Labels: booze, Calvin, holiday, home

Posted by Laura at 5:44 PM | Permalink | Comments

Today is the last day that I physically have to be in the office until January 8th. I "work from home" (picture air quotes on purpose) tomorrow, which really means I will be logged into the network and will periodically check for new e-mails or IM's, but really I'm going to be cooking, waiting for the FedEx guy to deliver the lobsters (de liver de lobsters de sooner de better de later de lobsters de madder I getter!), and wrapping presents. All without getting dressed. Because that's just how I roll. Then I'm on vacation for two glorious weeks. Weeks which will be filled with, well, glory. At least, they better be.

Yesterday was a Very Bad Day. I was Stressy McStresserson at work and had to work until 6:00 when all I wanted to do was get busy on the stuff piling up to be done at HOME. Calvin was not having a good day either, so what prompted him to go Christmas shopping for me at the MALL at 5:00 on the Wednesday before Christmas is beyond me. He rode off on his motorcycle while I was on a teleconference (having come home in time to take it in my jammies). I finished up and was in the process of making Walnut Chews in the kitchen when he came exploding back into the house. And I do mean EXPLODING.

While trying to pay for my gift, his card was declined at the counter -- in front of everybody. Now, nobody enjoys this particular experience, but for Calvin it's just about the worst, most embarrassing thing that can possibly happen. The card was declined because the bank detected fraudulent charges against his debit card number, so they shut off the card. Without informing us.

How rude. I mean, I appreciate them putting the brakes on after a whole three dollars and seventy-four cents got charged against our account from someplace in Maryland. But they could have at least called us to let us know. Especially since its, you know, Christmas, and the use of our primary method of, you know, paying for shit, should be, you know, accessible.

So Calvin comes busting into the kitchen, grabs the phone and dials up the bank. He gets the automated "press or say x" fuckbot nonsense that for some reason automated telephone system developers think actually makes things easier. More convenient. Faster. Except that all of that? Not.

He goes through several machinations, loud repeats, and cursing which confuses the automated phone fuckbot. He finally gets a representative. Who tells him to repeat all of the information that he already told the fuckbot. What followed was not pretty. Calvin kind of went off on the customer service chickie. Or maybe it was a guy? I'm not sure. When he was asked to confirm a bunch of charges and continue to repeat himself, he said, "This is bullshit."

The customer service chickie hung up on him. Calvin held the phone away from his ear, looked at it, looked at me. He turned red. He turned white. He started breathing in huge heaves. I could hear the dial tone from where I was standing on the opposite end of the kitchen.

Calvin very, very carefully put the phone down on the receiver. He turned around, walked across to the patio door, and exited the building. I have no idea what he did out there in the back yard to calm down, but five minutes later he came back in. Breathing normally.

Duuuuuuuude. I thought his head was going to pop right off his shoulders.

We have both decided that we hate Christmas, more and more with every year that goes by. This whole year has been a pisser, and we feel like we're just going through the motions of the holidays for the kids, who take turns between being deserving and being not particularly so. Next year we are going to be COMPLETELY OUT OF THE STATE when December 25th rolls around.

Fuck this noise.

Labels: Calvin, holiday, home, journal, wtf

Posted by Laura at 9:00 AM | Permalink | Comments

Today is the day that I catch up on the crap I didn't do on the weekend, because I would rather spend my time snuggling on the couch with Calvin. So, in addition to doing my day job, I always have a pile of other crap that make my Mondays exceptionally busy. And that's also why you guys tend to get a "to do" list as a Monday entry. So I can remind myself of what the hell needs to get done around here.

Today I get to do laundry, clean the kitchen, go grocery shopping, go to Pets Inc. to get critters for the critters, make fudge (hi Jen, female fudge!) (no nuts), crank out the Christmas cards that need to be mailed, put together the packets of fudge and cards for my co-workers, and dig through the Christmas decorations. Oh, and work out.

And work. Hello day job that makes all of this joy possible.

It's overcast, rainy, cool, and quiet. All of my inclinations are severely steering toward laying in bed with the cats.

I'm getting up. NOW.

Labels: home, journal, listy goodness

Posted by Laura at 9:00 AM | Permalink | Comments

I worked from home yesterday (translation: I fought several fires in between drug-induced naps). Remember this entry? Yes, well, I succumbed to the inevitable. I mean, with odds like that, and an immune system like mine, the outcome of the crap shoot was a foregone conclusion.

So, I'm feeling ookey, but I'm at work today. I figure I'm all incubated and shit, so I'm no longer contagious. Of course, I'm as far away from being a doctor as a person with a Google MD can be, so what the hell do I know.

Calvin was extremely nice to me yesterday, and brought me food and drinks and medicine and hugs while I lolled around in bed and complained. A lot. I threw together some Minestrone Stew in the crock pot so that we would have steamy nummy goodness for dinner. Opening cans and frying up burger meat was about as much thought as I was prepared to put into making dinner.

Some random thoughts, the only kind my brain is capable of holding at the moment:

• This writer's strike is really irritating me. Not that I don't support them, and not that I don't think all of their points and needs are valid. No, I'm totally selfishly bemoaning the fact that all of "my" shows are over for the foreseeable future. The one I miss the most? Big Bang Theory. _{Hah! You thought it'd be Gray's Anatomy, didn't you? Shows you what I think of the current season.}


• All of my Christmas "shopping" is done, in that I have purchased one gift each for four whole people and everybody else is getting money, and that's it. Well, okay, I have one more person to buy for, and then I'll be done. This will be the CHEAPEST CHRISTMAS EVAR, which is totally in keeping with my Grinchy spirit this year. Not to mention my budget.


• Sliders are my new favorite food.


• I have added several new journals/blogs to my list of "regular reads". I recommend for your enjoyment the following: Cracked, Daily Coyote, FemMarine, Running in Wellies, and Vespa Vagabond (who is the same author for Daily Coyote).
  

To steal a line from Nance, I'm outta here.

Labels: headspace, health, home, journal

Posted by Laura at 10:47 AM | Permalink | Comments

According to the thermometer outside on the patio, it's 49 degrees.

Gypsy and Gadget, having been let out for the morning for their constitutional, are currently curled up in balls, cat-fashion, in a patch of sunlight. Zoe is warming my feet on the couch and occasionally butting my mouse-hand for attention, Oz is in the bed snuggling with Calvin (who Ozzy calls "The Daddy", what, can't your cat talk too?). Kali the snake is lounging across the length of one of the ledges in her vivarium, directly underneath the heat lamp. Cheeto and Lucy are in semi-brumation (a form of hibernation but not as deep) and nap most of the day, but deigned to stir this morning to chomp on some veggies. Portia is thumping around in the side yard in her usual destructive manner.

We have a lot of frickin' animals.

This house is a disaster. The kitchen is destroyed, there's clothes all over the bedroom, the stack of newspapers on the fireplace is threatening to topple, and there's clutter on the bar and on the kitchen table. Kali's pond is in desperate need of cleaning, the floors could use a good sweep/mop/vacuum, and the wind from yesterday blew in a metric ton of dust.

Obviously, I'd rather write about the condition of my house, rather than actually do something about it.

I will get to it today, I will. There's cooking to be done and decorating to begin (I am trying to do something about my Scrooge attitude, at least). Neither of those things can happen while the house is in the condition that it's in.

But first, I think I'll have another cup of coffee.

Labels: home, journal, pets

Posted by Laura at 9:32 AM | Permalink | Comments

It has been a wonderful couple of days, weather-wise. Most would not consider two straight days of raining to be all that wonderful, but this country girl stuck in the desert sees the blessing in the blah. We attempted to open up all the doors and windows today, but the rain showers were precipitated (no pun intended) by a gusty insistent wind that, at one point, simultaneously SLAMMED shut the front door, the living room door leading to the patio, and the bedroom door also leading to the patio. Calvin in the bedroom, myself in the living room, did a simultaneous (we discovered) painful start of a jump. I went seeking him out afterward for a heart-slowing hug.

Last night we were invited to a party at the home of a gentleman that I've worked with since I started at Acronymco 12 years ago. I think he'd be an outside-of-work bud to Calvin and me if we hung out. Anyway, the rain didn't figure into the plans of an outdoor house party in Arizona (the benefit to living in the desert is that you can pretty much guarantee at most times to have excellent weather for any planned outdoor activities, even if such activities are planned months in advance), but luck wasn't with him and last night proved to be the first rainstorm we've had in months. Not to be deterred, he put up a 40-foot tent in his back yard, that extended to the overhang of the patio.

Open bar, catered food, a dance floor in the back yard, a hired DJ, and a basement boasting a pool table and pinball machines. I can't even begin to estimate how much all this cost him and his wife - there were at least a hundred people there (including the neighbors - smart of them). MAN, did we have a good time, though. We brought Calvin's sister (middle, not youngest, for those of you keeping track at home). I dragged her out to the dance floor once (I think it was KC and the Sunshine Band), she dragged me out once (that line dance song where you "stomp one time... stomp two times... sliiiide to the left... sliiiide to the right... now cha-cha..."). The rain (well, humidity, really) destroyed all the ladies' hairdos, but at a not-too-far-into-the-night point, nobody cared. I danced with a gent from work that until this point had been very staid and proper in my mind... but he can jitterbug, so how stiff can he be? Calvin became fast friends with a couple that he'd never met before (I do appreciate his ability to jump into a party). Calvin and his sister traded jibes and shots at each other throughout.

We left near midnight and parted ways with Calvin's sister. The drive home is a little vague to me. What happened when we GOT home is not. Heh.

We've been slouching around the house all day today (no, we're not hungover, thanks for your concern), watching TV, reading, surfing, munching, napping. The ASU/UofA game is on right now - ASU has the better team (I think) but UofA is currently ahead. I watched a little of the Army/Navy game earlier, too. Funny to see all the dress uniforms in the stands. Ozzy is snoozing next to me, I have a shot of tequila awaiting consumption at my side, and a cool breeze is coming in through the window next to me.

Life doesn't suck right now.

Labels: Calvin, home, journal

Posted by Laura at 8:55 PM | Permalink | Comments

I adore my family. I really really do. But when Calvin's piss poor mood coincides with Marie's piss poor mood, it is a matter of an OVERDOSE of like personalities crapping all over my evening. The two of them can set each other off in a matter of SECONDS, and when they, individually, weren't in great moods to begin with, it's only a matter of time before exposure to one another descends their moods into the pit of shit.

I made dinner. Neither of them liked it (four cheese pasta (Fontaine, Gorgonzola, Romano, Parmesan) with a cracker crumb topping and garlic bread, and to heck with their plebeian taste buds anyway). Marie brought Portia in from outside, Calvin commented about how the dog has been a pain in the ass this evening (hovering, wouldn't lay down, getting underfoot), Marie huffed a mighty huff and stomped upstairs with the dog and slammed her bedroom door. Calvin huffed and declared he was going to bed and stomped off into the bedroom. At 7:30.

So. Marie's in her room, Calvin's in ours, and I'm left sitting in the living room, once again the ONLY PERSON IN A GOOD MOOD.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Labels: home, wtf

Posted by Laura at 7:38 PM | Permalink | Comments

I woke up at 7:30 this morning, which is only a half-hour later than the usual 7:00 wake up time that I have on normal work days. Why I can't sleep on my vacation is beyond me, but there it is. It's not so bad, really, sitting here with Zoe perched directly behind my head on the back of the couch, Oz eyeing her from the floor, coffee at my side, laptop at hand. It would be peaceful and serene if it weren't for all the flipping barking dogs in the neighborhood. At this moment in time I can count five distinct barks. None of them are our dogs, who if not smart, are at least polite. I could close the windows and door to block the sound, but I rather like having it finally cool enough to wear my robe.

A FANTASTIC dream about me and McDreamy (apparently I can hold my breath underwater for a long time in my dreams) was interrupted by my walnut-sized bladder (hmm, come to think of it, that's probably why I was dreaming of water), and from there the brain kicked in with thoughts of all the things I need to get done today. None of the tasks on my list were inflicted on me by Calvin in a fit of protest over my time off, though that's what I fully expected to happen. No, he was going to allow me my week of sloth, but I have discovered that I need to live a purpose-filled life. Thus I compiled a self-directed honey-do list.

First thing's first, though, so I have to write an entry about it. ("Wrote a song about it. Like to hear it? Here it goes.")

Ozzy's nose is out of joint because he just jumped up on the couch to discover that Zoe had moved to nestle against my hip. My lap is occupied by my computer, which means there is no snuggle space for him. He just raced off to climb up three separate doorframes and the column of the half-wall in the living room. Now he's trying to figure out other ways to get my attention and is playing Captain Explorer behind the television. With all the wires. A sure way to get hollered at. Any attention is good attention, I guess.

We're selling my motorcycle. I hardly ever ride it (I actually find that I prefer the bitch seat behind Calvin, because I'm a big ol' chicken in Arizona traffic), we could use the money, and I'd actually prefer owning one of these. I placed the ad last night and am grimly awaiting the round of telephone calls to begin. I hate that part about selling crap, but what are you gonna do.

Now Oz is trying to get into the cabinet underneath the snake's vivarium. That cat thinks that everyone in the household should operate under his schedule and won't settle down until I feed him. Bastard.

Okay, they're fed. Now maybe they'll leave me alone. CRAP. I forgot to grab the camera while I was up. Dammit.

OKAY. And now, for some pictures. Hover over them for comments.















Man, I'm REALLY putting off getting started on my list.

• Grocery shopping
  
• Go to the bank
  
• Sweep, vacuum, mop, dust
  
• Clean the kitchen & bathroom
  
• Laundry
  
• Litter boxes
  
• Adjust the sprinklers
  
• Take the movies back
  
• Dig up the motorcycle title
  
• Empty and clean the hot tub
  
• Work out
  

Alright, I'm outta here.


_{Momentary Thought: There's a massive amount of birds cheeping away in the backyard. I miss chickadees and whippoorwills, though.
High: It's actually chilly this morning.
Low: I have a craptastic amount of stuff to do today.
Obsession: I'm doing new pie recipes for Thanksgiving this year. I need to make them enough in advance that if they turn out like crap I can still run to CostCo and buy a couple.
Grin: The dream I had last night.
Playing: Birdsong and barking dogs.
Location: Living room.}

Labels: home, journal, listy goodness, motorcycle, photography, vacation

Posted by Laura at 7:56 AM | Permalink | Comments

I want to move this site to Moveable Type. Blogger has been a royal pain in the ass lately. But because I FTP my entries and store them on Dreamhost instead of using Blogger as my domain, I can't just import my entries to Moveable Type. Anybody have any suggestions, advice, recommendations? I want to use this domain URL instead of changing locations yet *again* (I'm sure you all have had enough of that nonsense, and I'm spread out enough over the internet with four different locations). I really like the features that MT has to offer. Sigh. The conundrums of a webmistress.

I left work today at 11:30, came home and ate lunch while watching "Private Practice", then got gas, got the truck washed, picked up some goodies at BevMo, and went to Pets Inc. to get critters for the critters. Then I took a nap, woke up in time to greet Calvin, and now we're sitting on the couch watching nature take its course in the form of the Discovery Channel, and Kali making short work of the rat we dropped in her vivarium (I won't feed the rat to her, so it was languishing in its box until Calvin could perform the necessary). He's got a 2 Below and I've got a Snakebite.

Not a bad way to start my vacation.

Jen is rather put out that I have abandoned her to work alone next week (all two days, and one TC day for her, so she should just hush I think), so I need to ensure that I'm on Google IM and updating on this site often enough to keep her entertained. Since she's one of the only things allowing me to keep my sanity at work, it would be well of me to keep her happy. (She took my picture today. I suspect things.)

Instead of having our own Thanksgiving at home this year, we are going to the Grandparents for dinner. So my Massive Menu From Hell is reduced to two pies and a batch of four bean salad. Easy peasy. I still intend to cook new dinner dishes and dessert dishes throughout the week; I am perhaps more interested in cooking now that I have less to do.

Tonight is Friday, though, so that means fast food. Time enough to get ambitious tomorrow.


_{Momentary Thought: I poured my Snakebite incorrectly. For the next glass I will pour the Guinness first and then the Strongbow.
High: I'm on vacation until the 26th, and the first day back to work is my telecommute day.
Low: I'm not skinny. See also, "Momentary Thought".
Obsession: The last two discs of season two of "Bones" that's waiting for me from Netflix in the mailbox.
Grin: See "High".
Playing: The Discovery Channel.
Location: Living room.}

Labels: blogkeeping, home, misc, vacation

Posted by Laura at 4:34 PM | Permalink | Comments

Calvin is playing DJ, I am downloading songs and e-books from LimeWire, we got back from good food and a few beers, having a few more and some vodka shots in the living room on the couch.

Why can't every night be Friday night?

p.s. - I suck at air guitar.


_{Momentary Thought: I HATE the neighbor's diesel truck. It sounds like an airplane is taking off in our neighborhood.
High: It's Friday.
Low: Calvin just got called on his on-call phone.
Obsession: Debt reduction.
Grin: I just downloaded Rocky Burnette's "Tired of Towing the Line".
Playing: Roxette: "Listen to Your Heart"
Location: Living room.}

Labels: best things, Calvin, home

Posted by Laura at 9:12 PM | Permalink | Comments

I periodically like to record a "day in the life" entry. I like to go back and compare them and see what's the same, what's different, and what is proof positive that I am VERY FIRMLY set in my ways. (For instance, compare today's entry to this one, or this one.)

5:30 a.m. - Alarm goes off for Calvin. I grunt and roll over.

6:18 a.m. - Calvin's phone rings. And rings. He comes running in from the other room to answer it. I grunt and roll over.

6:25 a.m. - Calvin kisses me goodbye. I grunt and roll over.

6:36 a.m. - Zoe prrrrowts in my ear. And touches me on the face with her wet nose. And pat-pats me on my face with her paw. And reminds me of this entry. I scritch her and roll over.

6:40 a.m. - Oz jumps up on the bed. Zoe beats me to death trying to dive off the bed, and under it. Oz follows.

6:40:15 a.m. - Growl. Hiss. Growl.

6:40:25 a.m. - HISS. GROOOOWWWWLLL. SPAT!

6:40:30 a.m. - I holler at the cats and thump the headboard. One runs out, I don't see which but I assume it's Zoe.

6:50 a.m. - Zoe prrrrowts in my ear. And touches me on the face with her wet nose. And pat-pats me on my face with her paw. I squint at the clock, debate getting up 10 minutes early. Dismiss it as a bad idea.

7:05 a.m. - The alarm goes off again. I mutter something that sounds like, "This is bullshit." I turn off the alarm, start the shower.

7:05 - 7:15 a.m. - Wash face, shampoo, conditioner, wash body, rinse rinse rinse, dry. Pick out and put on clothes (blue jeans, white T, maroon zip-up hoodie, socks, sneakers).

7:15 - 7:20 a.m. - Acquire coffee. Coooooffffffeeeeee. Take vitamins and prescriptions.

7:20 - 7:40 a.m. - Hold conversation with Zoe (who likes to sit on the edge of the tub while I perform my ablutions) while moussing and combing out hair, moisturizing face, cleaning out ears, putting on deodorant, putting on makeup, drying and styling hair, brushing teeth.

7:40 - 7:55 a.m. - Put water in snake's tank, turn on waterfall and UV light. Put water in dog's dish outside, give them a cookie and pets all around. Put canned food in dish in Oz's closet, put canned food in Zoe's dish in the weight room. Fill up indoor water dish. Shred summer squash and tear up dandelion greens, put a handful in Cheeto's dish and a handful in Lucy's dish. Turn off A/C, lock bedroom doors, defrost two slices of spelt bread and slather with cream cheese, put in baggie and then in work bag. Take pork chops out of the freezer to thaw for dinner tonight. Grab bag, keys, badge, out the door and in the truck and on the way to work.

7:55 - 8:00 a.m. - Drive to work. Listen to one of the TUS mix CD's.

8:00 - 8:10 a.m. - Get to desk, put down bag, dock and start up laptop, grab water cup and tea mug, rinse them out in the bathroom, head down to the cafeteria to fill up water cup and get hot water and honey for tea, head back to my desk, log into the network, put tea bag in hot water, settle down with my baggie 'o breakfast.

8:10 - 8:30 a.m. - Answer e-mails, eat breakfast.

8:30 - 9:00 a.m. - Start this journal entry and update with morning activities.

9:01 a.m. - Stop! Potty time!

9:05 a.m. - Start balancing checkbook and paying bills.

9:15 - 9:35 a.m. - Life is interrupted by an AcronymCo fire drill. Lights flashing! Alarms blaring! People filing out of the fire exits like lemmings! Lots of standing around in the parking lot while the building sweep is conducted. Then, more filing! More lemmings! Aaaaaand I'm back at my desk.

9:35 - 9:40 a.m. - Take a phone call and answer questions.

9:40 - 10:30 a.m. - Resume paying bills and balancing checkbook. Run a Quicken report to show Calvin how much money we spend on groceries and on going out to eat. Boggle a bit.

10:30 - 11:00 a.m. - Enough of that nonsense. Answer e-mails, place PO's, field phone calls (hi, Calvin!), get annoyed by a new cube neighbor moving into our territory, NOT OF OUR GROUP. Grr.

11:05 a.m. - Stop! Potty time!

11:07 - 11:15 a.m. - Go down to the cafeteria, procure a Caesar salad, stand in the LOOOOOONG line forever as the POS system dials out for each individual credit card transaction. Contemplate that the flow of purchases is faster with cash, in direct contradiction to the current Visa commercials.

11:15 - 11:25 a.m. - Back at my desk, start to eat, phone rings. Chat with Calvin. He tells me things about an FX 40 and a Niagra something and sensors and whatnot. I'm lost.

11:25 a.m. - 12:05 p.m. - Continue eating. Read Bitchypoo. Peruse ICHC. Read Dysfunction Junction. Read Chaos Theory. Check in on Laurell K. Hamilton. Read 6YearMed. Read Because I Said So. Read Crazy Aunt Purl. Read Miss Britt. Determine that I shall use the phrase, "What le fuck?" in the near future. Read Avitable. Read BurtsStache. Pry off my wedding ring, take off my watch, apply hand lotion. Put ring and watch back on. Read Sunday Undies. Update this entry.

12:05 - 12:25 p.m. - Turn, with a sigh, back to the 140 e-mails awaiting response, deletion, and/or categorization in my in-box. Method involves sorting e-mails by subject to group all of the FW's and RE:'s and RE:RE:RE's together to find the latest message in the string, and delete the others. Manage to weed e-mails down to 87 by using this method. Then I start back in chronological order, oldest first, and disseminate as appropriate.

12:25 - 12:30 p.m. - Recall something Calvin mentioned to me, and check Hotmail. See message from Maine Lobster Direct about a deal on live lobsters. Place our Christmas dinner order (6 1-1/4 pounders, 4 lbs of king crab legs) for nearly $80 less than I was expecting.

12:30 - 12:35 p.m. - Update this entry some more.

12:35 - 12:50 p.m. - Do work stuff: run consignment inventory usage report for the last 12 months for one of my suppliers; approve request for new part number to be added to inventory; set up new part number in the stockroom database.

12:50 - 12:55 p.m. - Stop! Potty time! Grab a piece of candy from the dish on the admin's desk on my way back.

12:55 - 1:40 p.m. - Do more work stuff: Check my queue for any purchase orders that need to be placed, find three and submit them; dig out iPod and headphones to combat the boredom ("I believe it's time for me to fly..."); take pain pills to combat the headache I've had since I woke up, curse being a woman; terminate a requisition; ("I've heard people say that... too much of anything is no good for you..."); weed through e-mails some more, enlist a CM's assistance for an issue with a non-responsive supplier; ("Tell me whatcha eat, I might cook for you..."); determine if a discontinued chemical is going to effect the factory; ("Spent my days with a woman unkind... smoked my stuff and drank all my wine..."); request a quote from a vendor for a needed part; ("Welcome to your life... there's no turning back..."); research a vendor payment issue and try to communicate clear instructions in a different way than the clear instructions I sent to them last week; curse Accounts Payable; ("Every time I look in the mirror, all these lines on my face getting clearer..."); ("You own the money, you control the witness..."); revise the prices on a purchase order; ("Now if you're feelin' kinda low 'bout the dues you been payin'..."); adjust part prices in stockroom database; ("You know what the midwest is? Young and restless...").

1:40 - 1:45 p.m. - Stop! Potty time! Then walk down to the windows and press my nose against the glass before returning to my desk. Contemplate the lack of Vitamin D in my life.

1:45 - 2:25 p.m. - Do more work stuff: ("I can play the guitar like a motherfuckin' riot."); adjust a purchase order; request tracking information for an overdue shipment from a supplier; ("She's a craze you'd endorse, she's a powerful force..."); complete a feedback survey for my manager; ("And she won't give up, cuz she's seventeen. She's a frozen fire..."); reconcile an on-time delivery report; ("Far four winds blow, there's trouble and it won't go..."); approve a Level 2 purchase order; ("I got the call today, didn't wanna hear, but I knew that it would come..."); make updates to yet another purchase order; look up status of requested order; ("And here's to you Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know..."); make change to yet ANOTHER PO; ("Well I fight authority, authority always wins..."); research parts in inventory to see if we can share with another site in need; compile shipping memo to share parts; ("Oh what a night, late December back in '63..."); edit a form for a new part request.

2:25 p.m. - E-mail count is now down to 23, eleven of which are in "green flag" status (my code for "waiting for someone to get their thumb out of their butt and respond to me").

2:26 - 2:35 p.m. - Sigh heavily. Update this entry some more. Think about going home early, because, well, feh.

2:35 p.m. - Stop! Potty time! Which strangely coincided with fourteen other women's need to pee.

2:40 - 3:10 p.m. - Decide a mental break is in order. Read Draw the Girl. Read Body of Work. Check ICHC for new pics. Look at pictures of Chuck on Dooce. Go back to where I left off yesterday in my Colloquial archives.

3:10 - 3:15 p.m. - Talk to Calvin on the phone. He's mad at me because he wanted me to make ANOTHER phone call to the title company (we're still trying to get the "free and clear" title for Michael's motorcycle) to find out the status. I've mailed them once, faxed them twice, and had phone conversations with them FIVE different times. So today? I just... didn't. I don't know why, I just didn't do it.

3:15 - 3:45 p.m. - Talk to a manager at the Oregon AcronymCo plant. Discuss a training plan for a new buyer over there. Discuss plans with my manager. Decide upon a series of teleconferences rather than a face-to-face meeting.

3:45 p.m. - Close enough to 4:00. Shut down my computer, grab my stuff, and I'm outta here.

3:45 - 4:10 p.m. - Drive home, again listening to one of the TUS mix CD's. Arrive home, dump my bag on the bed, say hi to Calvin, get run over seven times by Portia saying "Hi! Hi! Hi there! Hi!" Change into comfy clothes.

4:11 p.m. - Lay down for "just a minute" on the very comfy bed.

5:14 p.m. - Wake up with a snort. Zoe prrrrowts in my ear. And touches me on the face with her wet nose. And pat-pats me on my face with her paw.

5:15 - 6:10 p.m. - Go out into the living room, sit on the couch and put Calvin's feet in my lap, tickle his feet while he naps. Watch last week's episode of Bones.

6:11 - 6:15 p.m. - Get a call from Marie about some "weird shape light thingy" lighting up on her dashboard. I have no idea.

6:15 - 7:35 p.m. - Ride the motorcycle over to DarkHorse with Calvin. Have some Moosedrool and some grub. Watch the Suns lose. Watch a couple of poker games going on in front of the bar. Get annoyed by the guy sitting next to us. Pay up and head home again.

7:35 - 9:00 p.m. - Hug Marie for cleaning the kitchen - a task I didn't look forward to doing when I got home. Be amused as she cannot stick with just washing the dishes, but also has to reorganize all of the cupboards and closets. Feed the dogs. Get the mail. Flip through "Cover and Bake" and "Baking Illustrated". Get the coffee ready for tomorrow. Change into my jammies. Sit on the couch typing this while half-watching "Let's Go To Prison". Shut down the snake's and beardies' tanks.

9:00 - 10:00 p.m. - Watch miscellaneous TV. Get Calvin's clothes together for work tomorrow. Put my breakfast and lunch together for tomorrow. Set the alarm. Go to bed.

Labels: home, journal, listy goodness, meme, misc, pets, work

Posted by Laura at 9:00 PM | Permalink | Comments

Me (to Marie): "Ah, Marie, giving you a hard time is one of the few pleasures in life left to me."

Calvin: "You'd have a lot more pleasure if you'd just cooperate."

All three: "BWAAAA!"

Labels: home, humor

Posted by Laura at 6:46 PM | Permalink | Comments

I'm having to re-write this entry because I accidentally hit the "back" button on my browser and STOOPID BLOGGER didn't save a draft. Dammit.

Anyway. Tonight is happy hour at Kona Grill with some work cronies. Tomorrow is Grown Up Responsibility Day with the cleaning and the yardwork. Tonight is the Suns Game (though basketball takes a back seat to football until February), tomorrow is the ASU vs. Oregon game, and Sunday is the Patriots vs. Colts game.

I love this time of year. I just wish that it felt more like fall. It's supposed to be in the mid- to high-80's all weekend and all next week. Which is nothing to grouse about, I'm sure, especially with the protests I can hear coming from my loyal readers of chillier climes. Still, my KINGDOM for just ONE day of sweater-weather.

The cooking extravaganza continues. Last night I made a Tamale Pie that was really good, except that it was so spicy that even I, the girl who eats nacho-sliced jalapenos by the handful, was reaching for the water. It falls under the category of "make again", though next time I'll cut back on the chipolte peppers and the adobo sauce.

Chipolte Tamale Pie
(modified from the recipe from RecipeZaar)

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 lb lean ground beef
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
1 green bell pepper, diced
2 garlic cloves, finely minced
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 (15 ounce) can pinto beans, drained and rinsed
1 (8 ounce) can diced tomatoes
2 chipotle chiles (found in the Mexican food area of the grocery store), chopped, *plus*
1 teaspoon adobo sauce, from canned chipotle in adobo
1 cup grated cheddar cheese
1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro leaves
1 (8 1/2 ounce) package cornbread mix (such as Jiffy)
1 egg
1/3 cup milk

- Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
- Spray an 8-inch baking or casserole dish with non-stick cooking spray and set it aside.
- Heat the olive oil in a nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add the onions, green peppers, and garlic and cook until transparent and softened.
- Add the ground beef and cook until it no longer pink and is cooked through. Drain off any excess fat and sprinkle the meat mixture with the cumin.
- Add the beans, tomatoes, chiles and adobo sauce to the skillet and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium and simmer until heated through and slightly thickened, about 5 minutes.
- Remove pan from the heat and stir in the cheese and cilantro.
- Spread the beef mixture in the prepared baking dish, pressing down on it with the back of a spoon or spatula to make an even, compact layer.
- Combine the cornbread mix with milk and egg (note: this will NOT be according to package directions) and spread the cornbread batter over the beef mixture.
- Bake until the cornbread is golden-brown, 20 to 25 minutes. Let the tamale pie stand for 5 minutes before cutting into squares and serving.

I have the week of Thanksgiving off (two work-provided days, three vacation days) and plan to alternate between cooking a new dessert recipe and a new dinner recipe each day. I shall surely post the results herein. To aid me in this endeavor, I have recently purchased several new cookbooks, namely Cover and Bake, America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook, Baking Illustrated, and America's Best Lost Recipes.

Calvin's family (the only family we have here in AZ) hasn't mentioned what the Grand Turkey Day Plans are, but rest assured I'll be conducting my usual Gastronomical Culinary Extravaganza at home.

I've used the word "extravaganza" twice (now three times). That's a good entry, right there.

Aaaand then after Thanksgiving I'm going on a full-out Cooking Strike until it's time to "Kill the Wobsters!" (think Elmer Fudd ala "What's Opera, Doc?") at Christmas. An Animal Planet tradition since 1998!

Labels: food, home, journal, recipe

Posted by Laura at 1:12 PM | Permalink | Comments

Ahhhh. The summer, she is finally over. It was in the 70's and 80's all weekend long, and this morning it's 60 degrees. We rode around on Calvin's motorcycle Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I can't on the offhand recall where we went on Friday, but Saturday we went to Mill Avenue for the MOST AWESOME-EST cheeseburgers EVAR, and on Sunday we went for a ride through the foothills before hitting Rock Bottom for a couple of beers and appetizers.

Zoe and Oz are driving me BATSHIT this morning. They want to be together, but they don't. I have this (marvellous) routine in the morning where I lock Zoe in the weight room so she can eat and poo in peace without Oz all, "Whatcha doin? Are you my friend yet?" I feed Oz, per usual, in his dish in the "cat closet". He eats three bites (if that), then hightails it (heh) back to the weight room door to talk to Zoe under the crack, rattle the handle (like I said, I have to LOCK the door so he doesn't open it), come in my room where I am steadfastly working (or, you know, writing an entry), fuss at me to LEEEEEET him IIIIINNNNN, then when I finally open the door so she can come out/he can go in, instead of acting like long-separated lovers they FIT at each other for the rest of the day. Oz just follows Zoe around from hiding place to hiding place. Occasionally they can stand to be in the same space (sitting in front of the screen door, hanging out on/in the bathtub) for about five minutes, then suddenly Zoe will look at Oz like he's grown horns and gets all, "WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!?" And she fits, and hisses, and growls, and Oz is all, "Geez, woman, PMS is a bitch, innit?"

Plus, you know how Marie is moving back in? Well, so is her dog. In the past two weeks we added another cat AND another dog as permanent additions to the household. Current count for those of you playing at home is two cats, three dogs, two bearded dragons, and a snake. All of whom I get to take care of. I am not kidding, nor am I exaggerating, when I say that I spend a total of probably two hours a day, split between morning and evening, taking care of the animals. AND it seems I will have to take Cheeto to the vet, as the poor dear is constipated. We can't have a constipated lizard on our hands, now can we?

Yeesh. At this point I am SO qualified to be a vet.

Anyway. Last week's drama is calming down a bit, but I still have anxiety up the wazoo. Marie was having troubles with her ex-boyfriend that resulted in us having to ride to her rescue in the middle of a work day. She'd moved all of his belongings - i.e. all of the furniture (she is apparently a strong black woman trapped in that teeny white girl's body) - out onto the patio of her apartment. Ex-BF was blowing up her phone with threats and angst, she called us. We showed up, then HE showed up with his brother to get his stuff. Argument ensued during which he and his brother got all up in Calvin's face.

Ahem.

SO! Calvin deterred that shit right there, then phoned the police. Who very promptly showed up to supervise the removal of the furniture and belay comments thrown from the Ex-BF in Marie's general direction. In the meantime the Ex-BF's mom showed up, and we got to witness first hand where her son got his charming personality. They left, the police left, we left, then went down to the court house to get proceedings started on a restraining order.

So, that was fun.

AAAAAANNNNNNNND then I discovered fraudulent charges against my checking account. It seems that Calvin's debit card number has been compromised. So I got to deal with that last week. On top of the refrigerator dying, buying a new refrigerator, waiting around for said refrigerator to be delivered, spending $300 on groceries to replace those lost, dealing with Marie's ex-BF, dealing with New Pet Issues, and everything else that normal life dishes up when one has a full time job and a more-than-full-time life.

Current tally: angsty shit - 10, Laura's ability to cope - 0.

BUT! Calvin and I are going to see Jersey Boys again tomorrow with Calvin's sister and her husband. I am looking forward to that like nobody's business - probably even more than I was looking forward to seeing it the first time, and despite the fact that I have had "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" firmly entrenched in my brain for, like, ever.

(baaa DA baaa DA baaa da DA da da...) "I love you baby..."

Labels: headspace, home, journal, kids, motorcycle, pets

Posted by Laura at 8:46 AM | Permalink | Comments

Once again waiting related to a fridge. This time, it's the new one that's supposed to be delivered SOMETIME today. I spent an hour throwing away a metric ton of spoiled food and cleaning behind/under the old refrigerator. Whatever the ook was that was back there is cancer-causing, I'm positive.

Right now I am putting together a grocery list of epic proportions. In keeping with my plan to create moments of happiness for myself, I have decided to kick my cooking hobby back into gear and make two new dinner recipes and one new dessert recipe per week. This week, well, I'm going overboard. Beef stroganoff is lined up for tonight, stuffed peppers on Saturday, Jamblaya on Sunday, and Enchilada Chowder next Thursday (standbys of burgers, tuna noodles, spaghetti, and the best meatloaf in the world fill out the rest of the days in the week, if you're curious). Plus I'm planning on making my grandmother's apple cake and her pumpkin bread this weekend.

My diet is taking a firm back seat to my happiness at the moment.

I don't remember if I mentioned it or not, but Calvin and I went to see Jersey Boys last Saturday at Gammage Auditorium. The show was ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. Even Calvin loved it, and he's not a musical kind of guy. If you don't know much about them, check this out (be patient through the Sopranos tribute stuff). This was their performance at the Emmy's this year, and WAY doesn't do justice to the entire production:



This was the performance that prompted Calvin to suggest that we get tickets when they were in town (quoth I, "You do realize that this is a musical? Where people randomly dance about and burst into song?"). Which they are now. We might even go again, it was THAT good. Plus, of course, we went out on Calvin's birthday and bought a couple of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons CD's. "Walk Like a Man", "Can't Take My Eyes Off You", "December 1963", "Grease", "Who Loves You", and "My Eyes Adored You" have been on constant spin around here.

Loved the show. LOVED. IT. Go see it so we can still be friends.

You know? There's a CRAPTASTIC load of drama going on around here, but now that I've gotten to this point in the entry, I am in no mood to write about it right now. So you'll have to wait in barely restrained anticipation until I work up the gumption to put all the crap into some semblance of cohesion.

Labels: best things, food, headspace, home, journal, kids

Posted by Laura at 12:36 PM | Permalink | Comments

Actually, I'm waiting for the refrigerator repair guy. Our fridge - just seven years old and WHAT happened to the kind of appliances that lasted, like, 25 years and your parents only replaced because the 70's motif of olive drab and orange didn't match the decor anymore??? Anyway, our fridge is on the fritz - refrigerated part not cold enough, freezer part not freezing. I had to throw a ton of stuff out yesterday, which was annoying. Most of it was frozen veggies, though, so cheap and easily replaceable. We've already had to replace the washer and dryer (14 years old) and dish washer (7 years old) this year. A new fridge is NOT on our list of money spending priorities at the moment.

I am starting to feel discouraged, like we're making no forward progress in our current lives. Marie has decided she needs to move back in with us (we'll have to pay the EXORBITANT fees for breaking the lease on her apartment, which Marie is going to pay back to us in installments), and Michael never moved out, so we're back to (or will be soon back to) having a full house. Which is fine, really - we all get along quite well. There will be household citizenship RULES, however. Not the least of which is that Calvin and I should never have to wash a single dish or take out a single bag of trash for as long as the kids are living with us. And this coming and going at 2:00 in the morning nonsense will be NO MORE.

Aaaand the fridge repair guy just left. The compressor is shot. We have to buy a new fridge. Fuck a duck. Another $1500 (at least) out the door.

Does it ever end?

Labels: home, journal, kids, wtf

Posted by Laura at 11:00 AM | Permalink | Comments

We have a new cat. Her name is Zoe. She's kind of a bitch.

Last Sunday Calvin and I took a motorcycle ride to the local animal shelter. We'd been talking off and on for several weeks about getting a companion for Oz. I wanted a kitten, figuring Oz would acclimate more easily with one. Calvin wanted an adult so we wouldn't have to go through the hated "kitten stage". Let me clarify, he hates the kitten stage, specifically the "clawing of the furniture" stage.

So. Shelter. I'm going to tell you right off the bat, I HATE THAT PLACE. The feeling of utter despair completely permeates the place. It is the most depressing, most evil, most awful place on the face of this planet. Sam could totally return his recaptured souls there instead of the MVD.

We walked up and down all the lanes of cats and kittens, dogs and puppies. They all stared STRAIGHT INTO MY SOUL. Every one of them. And I positively knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that each and every one of those animals would make a fabulous family addition, and just about each and every one of those animals would never get adopted.

By the second lane of animals I was womanfully choking back tears. But the third lane of animals I gave it up as hopeless and just BAWLED. Dear fucking lord (sorry, that's way taking His name in vain), I HATE THAT PLACE. All those beautiful, sad, tragically hopeful animals.

Calvin discovered a kitten, a little orange guy, that had a super personality. So I coo'ed and snuggled him, fully expecting to take him home. Calvin said he'd just check beyond the door marked "more cats through here", then he'd come back and we'd make arrangements to take the little guy home. A few minutes later he poked his head back into the room I was in, and asked me to come check out a cat he found. So I handed the kitten back to the volunteer and followed Calvin.

He lead me to a cage that had a lone occupant. At first glance she looked startlingly like Ozzy. The information sheet posted outside of her cage said that she was approximately two years old, and upon handling her we discovered that she was declawed in both front and back feet. Which meant that she was also probably spayed, but the information sheet didn't say. They had no history on this animal - not even a name - just the fact that the owner "didn't want her on the property anymore" and turned her in on the 9th of September. That day was the 23rd.

We went to the administrative desk (I was still crying like a stupid stupidhead - this time feeling guilty about the orange kitten we'd changed our minds about. I know, though, that kittens have a MUCH better chance at adoption than adult cats), filled out forms and paid our fees, and requested that when she was checked for spaying that they also test her for feline leukemia. We were instructed to come pick her up on Wednesday.

We went to Chili's. I had a beer and a shot. I felt better.

On Monday I posted that whole long list of crap I had to get done. Immediately after that I checked the voicemail messages (someone beeped in while I was talking to Calvin) and found a message from the shelter - the cat turned out to be already spayed and she was ready to be picked up. SO! After several failed attempts to call them back (disconnections, no answers, GUH-ROWL) and find out if the leuk test came back negative, I decided to just drive up there. If she was tested and all was fine, I'd take her home. If she wasn't, I'd re-instruct them to test her and come back again to pick her up.

I stopped at PetSmart on the way to get a litter box and dishes and whatnot, then went to the shelter's clinic. I also HATE THAT PLACE. I was buzzed in and handed the carrier over to the technician on duty, and then sat there listening to the WAILING cats and dogs inside the clinic. I almost started crying again. I double checked with the technician when she returned with the cat, who confirmed that they had tested her for feline leukemia and the tests came back negative. I peeped into the carrier and said hi to the little girl, who gave me a very plaintive mew in return.

The technician told me that if she hadn't been adopted, she had been on the list to be euthanized on Friday. Which is today. I might start crying again.

Now, usually when I put Ozzy in the carrier to go to the vets or some such thing, he MROWLS at the top of his lungs like he's being killed. This little girl just kind of squeaked and pdddrrrt at me as I talked to her on the drive home. I got her home, put her in the workout room, arranged her food and water and litter box, then sat on the floor to get acquainted.

What a SWEET little cat she is. She climbed up into my lap, purred and purred and PURRED, "talked" up a storm, and kept butting at my hands if I paused in my petting. She looks VERY like Ozzy, especially around the head. She's a little darker, her hair is a little whispy-er, and she's SO SOFT.

I kept her shut in the room to let her get settled. When Calvin got home he, of course, wanted to see how she and Oz would interact with one another. So he opened the door between them.

Oz was all, "Hi! Who are you? Are you a person too? You look like me! Will you be my friend?"

The new cat (now named Zoe) was all, "GET YE GONE, YOU MINION OF SATAN."

Aaaaand that's how it's pretty much gone all week long. Zoe is wonderful and sweet and loving and craves attention from people, tolerates the dogs, and goes into a spastic fit every time she sees Oz. Oz alternates between hurt confusion, indifference, and "Fuck you bitch, you want to spat? I'll show you a spat!" There is much yowling and growling.

So after we introduced the cats and they'd been spitting at one another for a while, we got another message from the animal shelter. They were SO SORRY, but the cat had in fact NOT been tested for feline leukemia, and we could bring her back, and blah blah blah, and DAMMIT.

I made an appointment with our vet for the next day. Oz and Zoe had already been introduced. If she was sick there was little we could do about it now. Fortunately, the result of the trip to the vets was a clean bill of health and a negative result on the leuk test. Still. The shelter can suck a bag of dicks. They could have gotten my Ozzy sick. The bastids.

I find the dispute between Oz and Zoe somewhat amusing - they can't hurt one another, and they're really just talking. They haven't gotten physical with one another. Calvin finds it very frustrating. He wants them to be BFF RIGHT NOW. I know the cats will find their own peace and their own positions in the household. Calvin wants to force them to be friends. Yeah, right. Forcing a cat to do anything is like pushing a rope. Currently, I am keeping the cats separated unless we are home to monitor them. Oz is enjoying taunting Zoe under the door, from his position out in the hallway. Zoe doesn't really care unless she physically sees him. The one who is most upset in the household is Calvin.

I don't think kitty treats work on him.

(Pictures forthcoming as soon as I get them off my camera.)

Labels: home, journal, pets

Posted by Laura at 9:11 AM | Permalink | Comments

I spent two and a half hours cleaning my bedroom today. I practically put myself into anaphylactic shock with all the dust I kicked up. Calvin's shoes were EVERYWHERE. Now they are in two places, neatly arranged. A metric ton (or thereabouts) of clutter and crap has been moved to The Storage Room Formerly Known As Marie's (five trips up and down the stairs). The laundry explosion has settled and everything is folded and hung up. I love my Dyson, and so does my carpet. I also love the Swiffer, though I went through three dusters in the course of my attack.

The speakers have been uncovered from the piles that surrounded them. The bed can be (and has been) made now that the footboard is no longer housing fifty pairs of jeans. Who needs as many pairs of jeans as we own, I ask you?

The water dragon is not adapting well to his new home, mostly because it is on cat-level and Oz delights in fucking with the lizard. Just that one. He doesn't mess with the beardies, and I think he's a little bit afraid of the snake. But the water dragon he taunts constantly. So, I put newspaper all along the outside of the tank. Oz has been thwarted, and is decidedly grumpy at me about it. You may ask how I can tell if he's grumpy, and how I can tell that said grumpiness is directed specifically at me:

1. Brodies that pinnacle up onto the (formerly) folded pile of laundry, thereby scattering said laundry to the floor.
2. A game of "Bite the toes from under the dust ruffle" as I walk around the bed while making it.
3. Glaring balefully at the newspaper-sided tank, then glaring equally balefully at me.
4. Refusing to get out of the (now empty) laundry basket so I can put it away.
5. Mrowing at me in a very disapproving way from under the (now overturned) laundry basket.

Perhaps I should address overhaul-type cleaning as a weekly goal that is focused on a single room. Then by the time the last room is clean, it will be time to start over again. God knows I'm looking for any kind of method or system to motivate myself with, here. This house is a disaster.

But! My room is clean.

Labels: home, journal, pets

Posted by Laura at 3:05 PM | Permalink | Comments

New pictures, none of which are of the lizards having sex.

Labels: Calvin, home, pets, photography

Posted by Laura at 10:59 AM | Permalink | Comments

There is a definite feeling of satisfaction that I get when I'm caring for my animals. However, I have had MORE than enough of cleaning/rearranging/messing with the lizards tanks and vivarium. Last Monday I completely changed out the bedding (rabbit pellets) in the beardies' tank and cleaned all of their "furnishings", and wiped it off inside and out. Marie helped me to move the tank into the bedroom from the dining room where it's been residing since Calvin and I went to Maine. And then there was the messing with the lights and heat sources since I had to unplug them all and plug them in again. While I was doing this I stuck Cheeto and Lucy in the bathtub to hang out.

I also cleaned out the water dragon's vivarium (who also hung out in the bathtub... not at the same time as the beardies), which includes dragging the shop vac out of the garage, sucking all of the water out of the pond, filling the pond back up, sucking out the water again, filling it up again... seven or eight times until the water runs clear, then filling it up to the top. I usually have to empty out the shop vac once or twice in the process. I also vacuum out all of the misplaced bedding and poo, and wipe off the three-sided plexiglass walls of the enclosure - inside and out. Finally, I refill the water in the humidifier used to keep the environment tropical inside the vivarium. All in all, cleaning the vivarium takes me over an hour - both of them combined was a good two hours.

Today we are preparing to move Marie's ball python, Kali, into the vivarium. We have decided we want to keep Kali ourselves and have therefore snake-napped her, in a manner of speaking, in that Marie didn't take her with her when she moved out. So now she is ours, and she's getting a more spacious home. Meanwhile the water dragon, who is tiny, is trading spaces with her into a much more size-appropriate tank. This tank will sit on the stand underneath the tank holding the beardies.

This tank swapping business means that I have to completely sterilize the vivarium and Kali's tank, because the detritus of different reptile species do not mix well with one another. Kali and the water dragon could get sick from one another's cooties if I just put them in each other's tanks without cleaning them first. Today I shop-vac'ed much of the bedding out of the vivarium, sucked out all of the water and removed the rocks from the pond, scrubbed the pond basin with soap and water, rinsed and cleaned the rocks and replaced them, vacuumed out the nooks and crannies of the bark lining the back of the vivarium, scrubbed off the three "rock" shelves, and wiped down the interior and exterior plexiglass.

Finally I sprayed the interior down with disinfectant. This of course means that the tank has to sit open for a while to air out. Which, in turn, means that I had to deal with some logistics in order to make the water dragon comfy. He (she? we still don't know) couldn't very well stay in the bathtub all day. SO! I had to set up an interim tank in the bedroom. This involved dragging the tank that was hanging around out back into the bedroom, cleaning it inside and out, dumping some bark in the bottom, finding a pan and filling it with water and putting it in the bottom, arranging various furnishings and silk plants, finding covers, a UV lamp, and a heat lamp and arranging those, then soaking everything down in order to create enough humidity before finally putting the water dragon in it.

This evening Calvin and I are going to the pet store to buy a few more things that we need, then we'll put Kali in her new home. THEN I get to remove all of the bedding in Kali's tank, clean and disinfect it, put the water dragon in the bathtub, move all of the stuff from the temporary tank to the permanent one, set the wrought-iron stand up in the bedroom with the water dragon's new tank on bottom and the beardies' tank on top, and FINALLY put the water dragon back in her (his?) new home.

At which point all of the animals in this house had BETTER be damned happy.

Labels: home, lizards, pets

Posted by Laura at 2:04 PM | Permalink | Comments

Okay, this is turning out to be the best day EVAR. I enjoyed the thunderstorm this morning from the safety of my covered patio, then Calvin got up and we had some coffee and spent some quality time (ifyaknowwhatimean) (andithinkyoudo). Then we got dressed and went for a ride on the motorcycle in the 80-degree weather (!), and went to The Good Egg for pancakes. THEN when we got back we watched TV for an hour or so before crashing for a two-hour nap.

This day has just been a combination of all of my very favorite things. If the trend continues, this evening Calvin and I will cook together in the kitchen while dancing around to 80's music. Then someone will stop by with that pony I've always wanted.

Labels: best things, home, journal

Posted by Laura at 3:32 PM | Permalink | Comments

Fallout Boy is suiting my mood today.

I am so ready for summer to be over. I'm being forced to be inside in a worse way than snow ever did to me. Living for winter is totally throwing off my circadian rhythm. My inclination is to greet May with something close to ecstacy and October with something akin to dread. Right now I just wish to fast foward to, say, November 16th. That's a Friday. In November. When it will likely be in the 80's here. The 80's are acceptable when one is writing from 112. I would wish it even cooler, though... say the 50's that November represents in Maine.

Sigh.

I wish that when I shut the house down for the night (lights out, doors locked, TV off, etc.) it stayed that way. Instead I usually wake up (am awakened) several times in the night and discover Michael watching TV, talking on the phone, talking to other people in my house in the middle of the night, fixing food in the kitchen, going in and out of the back door a MILLION times a night because he's a dirty nasty smoker... at all hours. Today when Calvin's cell went off at 5:00 a.m. (GROWL), the TV in the living room was still on. The thing is, I can't sleep in a settled manner knowing that there are still people coming and going and stirring and MAKING NOISE all through the night. Will the front door still be locked, the garage door closed? Will someone accidentally let the cat out? Will I emerge from my bedroom at 2:00 in the morning in order to scold the noise-maker, only to discover three or four strangers along with said noise-maker? My home is not my own, and it's really frickin' getting to me.

I am doing purposeful things to adjust my state of mind. Today at lunch I walked the route through the campus buildings (see aforementioned note about having to stay inside, grumpety grump) and listened to my iPod. I just had to get away from my desk, because people (for some strange reason) are straight PISSING ME RIGHT OFF TODAY. The tedium of my job sometimes grips me in such an overwhelming manner that I am extremely close to giving in to the temptation to scream my head off, right here in the middle of the cubicle jungle. Or else I will kill that annoying cubicle neighbor of mine that talks at the top of his lungs all day every day and condescends to every person that he communicates with. Or maybe I'll send that nasty-gram BEFORE proof reading it, walking away, walking back, reading it again, saving it without sending it, walking away, walking back, editing it to remove all the references to "fucker" and "shithead" and "total complete asshat", and sending a final and much more professionally acceptable version.

Calvin is having, if anything, a much worse day (and week, actually), than I am. We have once again talked and dreamed of selling everything, leaving Arizona, and living off the land somewhere. Perhaps work for a convenience store. Grow our own food. Learn to like the taste of squirrel. Somewhere with fresh air and peaches. Something, anything, to end this rat race that we are currently enduring. We know we are blessed with great jobs that support our lovely home. But really, a double-wide out in the woods somewhere is starting to look MIGHTY appealing.

Technically, I own the land in Maine that my sister and her family currently reside upon. I could blaze a driveway and dig a well and set up shop right next door to them, and regale you all with tales of our mighty fine adventures. With the naked dancing around the bonfire with the beer and the chickens. Ay-yup.

Current "Fave" iPod playlist:

The (After) Life of the Party - Fallout Boy
Animal - Def Leppard
Black Sweat - Prince
Born to Run - Springstein
Dancing Queen - Abba
Shipping up to Boston - Dropkick Murphys
Everyday - Dave Matthews
Eyes - Rogue Wave
Girlfriend - Avril Lavigne
Glory Days - Springstein
Guitar - Prince
Hey There Delilah - Plain White T's
Hot in the City - Billy Idol
I Don't Wanna Be In Love - Good Charlotte
I Love a Rainy Night - Eddie Rabbit
I'm a Loser Baby - Beck
Makes Me Wonder - Maroon Five
Me Love - Sean Kingston (thanks to Marie for that one!)
Move Along - All American Rejects
Number One in Heaven - Nemesis
Oh, It's Love - Hellogoodbye
On the Dark Side - Eddie and the Cruisers
Read My Mind - The Killers
Scotty Doesn't Know - Lustra (Eurotrip Soundtrack)
Short Skirt/Long Jacket - Cake
So Alive - Love and Rockets
Steal My Sunshine - Len
The Story - Brandi Carlile
Sunday Mornings - Maroon Five
Thanks for the Memories - Fallout Boy
This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race - Fallout Boy
Turn on Me - The Shins
The Way You Make Me Feel - Michael Jackson
Where Does the Good Go - Tegan and Sara (my new favorite song)
Word Up - Korn

Labels: headspace, home, insomnia, music, work

Posted by Laura at 1:04 PM | Permalink | Comments

Yesterday I slept until 11:00, read in bed until 1:30 (thanks again for the books, Jen!), received clothes shipped from Old Navy, tried on said clothes and discovered that all but one item fit perfectly, took a VERY long bubble bath, went to the grocery store with Calvin, watched Calvin bake not one, but TWO cakes (yellow with chocolate frosting, and devils food with caramel frosting), hung out with Marie and her boyfriend, consumed the steak dinner that Calvin also cooked, and had two pieces of cake.

I also received a card from Dawn, a phone call from my sister, a phone call from Ann Marie, and an e-mail from Heather.

It was a very nice birthday.

(Today I am going to pick up the veggies from the co-op, then sit patiently and await the delivery of Harry Potter from Amazon.)

Labels: best things, Calvin, home, journal

Posted by Laura at 8:17 AM | Permalink | Comments

I still haven't heard from that company in Maine. Motherfuckers.

I am shocked and a little awed (after having just balanced the checkbook and paid the bills) at the sheer amount of money we spend going out to eat. If we could just STOP DOING THAT, this paycheck-to-paycheck bidness could probably end. But going out to eat is not only the procurement of necessary nourishment - it is a form of entertainment for us. Mostly me. Clearly we need to find other ways to entertain ourselves. Ways that don't involve spending money.

I am a very outdoorsy person, normally, but it impossible to do outdoor-type-entertainment things in Arizona in the summertime. And yet? I still see joggers out there, every afternoon when the temperature is at its 116-fuck-degree hottest. And I ponder to myself: what unpronounceable mental condition do these people possess? Or is it a physical problem (also unpronounceable) that prevents people from feeling the heat (Googling... hold please... Familial Dysautonomia)? I can understand the need to get/remain fit. I can even somewhat wrap my brain around the thought that some people in fact enjoy running. But nothing in the world can make me comprehend the reasoning behind running in July in Arizona. That's just all full of The Crazy.

(Channelling Dawn, with whom I have been exchanging some EPIC e-mails this week.)

Remember how last weekend I said that Calvin and I were going to spend the entire weekend clearing out the garage and moving a bunch of stuff from the house and garage into the newly-obtained storage unit? Yeah. Well. We went as far as to take a trip to Home Depot on Saturday to acquire some storage containers. And Calvin purchased and put together a fan and attachments to make a mister to run in the garage during said cleaning out activity.

That's as far as we got. Seriously. We showered, napped, and sat on the couch watching movies. For the rest of the day on Saturday, and ALL DAY Sunday. We didn't do one damn useful thing at all. And felt really guilty about it. So this weekend we have renewed our motivation to accomplish the shitload of shit we need to get done. I have a list. It is long.

And now, a list of the movies that Calvin and I have used to distract ourselves from the guilt of not accomplishing anything:

Catch and Release - Starring Jennifer Garner and Timothy Olyphant. Cute enough. Decent, even. The dead guy pissed me off, but it ended good. I shall purchase the soundtrack.

Fur - Starring Nichole Kidman and Robert Downey Jr. What a freaking WEIRD movie. Normally I LOVE anything RDJr is in, but this one? Just weird, nothing else.

Zoom - Academy for Superheroes - Starring Tim Allen and Courtney Cox. Calvin picked this one out, it's his fault. DUMB.

Tourista - Starring nameless B-rate actors. Calvin watched this one while I read a book. And when it came to the underwater scene, I took my book into the bedroom. I don't like horror movies, and I can't STAND scenes where people are trapped underwater. GAH.

Shooter - Starring Mark Wahlberg. Decent, though with much pointless violence. It was interesting to see Danny Glover play the bad guy.

Blood Diamond - Starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Connelly. I still don't much like Leo. Plus there was A LOT of pointless violence in this one... which I guess accurately depicted the conditions of that part of Africa in the 90's.

Black Snake Moan - Starring Christina Ricci and Samuel L. Jackson. Certainly not what I expected, though I don't think I had expectations of this movie. It was decent. I still think Christina looks like one of the aliens from Mars Attacks!, though. Creepy.

Music and Lyrics - Starring Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore. Very cute. I couldn't get the final song out of my head for days.

Bridge to Terabithia - Not what I expected, I thought it was going to be far more fanciful and far less literal. A good movie, though it struck a VERY STRONG chord because the similarities with what happened to Brad. Right down to the dog, for crying out loud.

The Devil Wears Prada - Starring Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway (with a minor role by our favorite, Stanley Tucci - I WISH they would put him on Grey's Anatomy). Saccharine and cute. Anne Hathaway does well dressed ala Audrey Hepburn, circa "Sabrina" and "Breakfast at Tiffany's".

And finally, Battlestar Galactica, seasons one and two. We've been getting the discs via Netflix since late March/early April, and just finished the last disc of season two last week. I am anxiously awaiting season three to come out, so I can watch it before season four starts on TV in November. What a great series. Calvin and I are both really enjoying it. Though the use of "frack" is really starting to get annoying. Also annoying, the last three or four episodes - Lee went from Captain to Commander in, like, two and a half episodes; Starbuck's trip to Caprica to rescue the rebels was very abbreviated, topped off by a bullshit message from the Cylons that they "made a mistake" by practically wiping out humanity; they elected a new president, found a planet, inhabited it for over a year, and were invaded by Cylons in one episode.

They never jumped around in time like that before, and they never hurried the storyline so much before. It makes me wonder why executives make decisions to mess with the story like that.

As far as summer television goes, everyone knows that it is The Suck. Calvin and I just end up watching reruns of sit-coms, comedians on the Comedy Channel, whatever's running on HBO (if we watch "Over the Hedge" one more time...), whatever's on the Discovery Channel, and hours upon HOURS of WWII documentaries (Calvin's a buff) on the History and/or Military channel. However, we have started watching episodes of "Kathy Griffin - My Life on the D List" (on Bravo? E!? Some cable channel...), and I've got to say, that woman CRACKS ME UP. She dines upon her foot with hysterical frequency, puts herself out there CONSTANTLY for judgement and ridicule, and doesn't give a SHIT. It's awesome. I want to grow up to be just like her.

Dear Lord, in reading back through this entry, it is very VERY obvious that Calvin and I need to put some meaning back into our leisure time.

Labels: food, goals, home, journal, movies, TV

Posted by Laura at 11:51 AM | Permalink | Comments

The forecast says it's supposed to be 112 degrees F today. It's 73 degrees in my office (I have a clock-slash-thermometer on my monitor stand). I am cold. WTF?

Calvin and I spent all day yesterday in our jammies, except for the 10 minutes where he got dressed to make a beer run. There was no braving of the Fourth of July crowds (and DUI checkpoints) for us. I've never been particularly interested in fireworks shows since my Uncle stopped putting on his own shows when I was a kid. It may have been the everything-is-grander-scaled perspective of a grown up looking back on a child's memories, but he really did seem to go all out with his fireworks displays. Of course, they were legal in Maine back then. They don't seem to be legal anywhere anymore, not even harmless Morning Glories and sparklers. So. I guess I just grew out of fireworks. Perhaps that's a little bit sad.

There was a "Back to the Future" trilogy marathon on HBO yesterday, and once Calvin got wind of the fact that I have only EVER seen the first BttF (how I managed that is beyond me), we had to watch ALL THREE. My original assumption was correct - anything after #1 was not worth seeing. Ah, well, at least now I can cross that off my list of "things to do before I die". Except that it was never on the list to begin with.

We got a storage unit this week, and this weekend will be occupied with filling it with all of our shit priceless belongings. We have a Very Long List of things to do around the house, but the #1 item was to de-clutter so we don't have to move all of our shit priceless belongings around as we try to clean/paint/repair. We're hoping that motivation will beget motivation, and once we get rolling it will be easier to force ourselves to do the subsequent tasks.

Okay, I'm boring myself. Over and out.

Labels: home, journal, movies

Posted by Laura at 9:13 AM | Permalink | Comments

Whenever we go to Taco Bell, we get the Grande Meal with half bean burritos no onions, and half soft tacos. We also get two combination burritos with no onions, a Mexi-melt, two crunchy tacos, and a chicken quesadilla. And a large Pepsi, because for some reason the Taco Bell near us has the best fountain Pepsi EVER. Sometimes Calvin gets frisky and asks for a tostada. The total always comes to $18.08. You can get an ass-load of food for less than twenty bucks at Taco Bell.

Whenever we order pizza (usually Domino's), we get a large thin crust with pepperoni, bacon, and beef, one large regular crust with just pepperoni, and one medium vegetarian thin crust. We order the same thing so often that I can call them (I've memorized their number) and ask for "the usual". The total always comes to $38.00. Domino's is somewhat more expensive than Taco Bell, and yet is still cheap in its resident food category. Plus, they deliver. I refuse to go to Peter Piper Pizza.

Marie has been getting on the scale, and then yelling, "God! I can't gain weight!" Every time she does this, I want to kill her just a little.

Marie spends most nights at her boyfriend's house, but we usually see her at some point during the day. During that time, she does a high-speed download of everything she's thought about, done, or has happened to her. I have a feeling that even when she moves out, we'll talk every day and get this download. If there is one thing that this family doesn't have a problem with, it's communicating.

When the Suns game is on an HD channel, we stay at home and watch it because our TV is like being there. When the Suns game is not on an HD channel, we go to some sports bar and yell at them from there.

Oz is less of a cat, and more of a child, in this household. He has this thing for shredded cheese. Every time... and I mean EVERY time... we get into the fridge he runs over, "speaks" to us, practically climbs into the fridge, paws the drawer that we keep the cheese in as if to say, "It's in here," then walks over to this certain spot on the kitchen floor that we have been putting his little cheese piles, and waits patiently until we oblige him.

Oh! Did I tell you guys about this? I forget. Anyway, you know how Oz "kills" his stuffed toy Kanga, and carries it through the house from wherever it was into our bedroom, mrowring and carrying on at the top of his lungs, EVERY night just as we get into bed? Yes, well, one night about a month ago Calvin and I went into the bedroom and got ready for bed. Calvin shut and locked the door that leads into the hallway, so that Oz wouldn't try to open it during the night (you rememb