Month: November 2010

Umm, nom, nom, num, nummy

The very best part of Thanksgiving: turkey dinner leftovers.

:nods: Yes.

BTW, Northwood, I tried yer sammich idea. It tastes good, but it falls apart rather ferociously. 🙁 Oh, yeah, an’ I picked up five Botts dots!

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Happy gorging, tra-la, tra-la

All set to have Thanksgiving Dinner with Grandma, I leapt (okay, I staggered and fell) out of bed to find. . . three inches of new snow and a picture-perfect, gently vertical, steady, unrelenting and continuous fall of yet more snow. It was supposed to be warmer and raining today, but evidently not yet, and not where I am. If you noticed the progression of modifiers from positive to negative there, good for you. If not, I just told you.

Unwilling as I am to risk my life and my car (not to mention my car insurance bills) to a bad ankle on icy roads, especially when said roads carry bazillions of dinglewits who have no clue what they’re doing, I shall probably have to forgo the pleasure of Grandma’s company and somebody else cooking the turkey.

Much as I like my solitude and my largely undirected life, I am thoroughly and utterly and completely at the very tip end of the last thread fraying out of my rope. It’s having to stay rather than being able to make the choice to stay here. Going to the grocery store shouldn’t be a serious situation requiring strategic evaluations of the logistics.

Well, I shall th’ow my turkey and stuffing in the oven, but dang, I wish I had a couple of eggs to bake a pumpkin pie. It just isn’t Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie!

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Icky weather for all, and something smart

My last post was a bit on the self-centered side. I admit it.

I mean, Nature most likely doesn’t sit around her fireplace thinking, “Now, what can I do that will cause the most aggravation and inconvenience for that one fat old decrepit hag?” Not really. It’s just that after almost eight weeks, with both ankles still sore enough that I can’t handle uneven surfaces (therefore avoid them), I’m maybe a tish oversensitive about the appearance of being picked on.

Right now, I’m just feeling thankful that my commute spans the width of my living room and I don’t have to get out in this, “this” being temps of 20 deg., high winds, and heavy snow. News tonight had the freeways completely halted in Seattle and horror stories of abandoned cars and awful messes and buses sliding sideways down hills, sweeping hapless cars downhill before them.

It annoys me when the newscasters yammer on about the weather being “frigid” and “brutal,” when it’s the first actual snow of the year and it’s only 20 degrees. It’s cold, yes, but not frigid or brutal. (Those don’t happen ’til 10 and 20 below zero, respectively. 🙂 ) But they’re only broadcast people; I suppose they can’t help it.

However, the roads truly are horrible here with not-very-much snow, because the roadbeds never freeze. The first snow that falls melts and then freezes into a layer of ice. The roads are extremely slippery and treacherous, even if you know what you’re doing; and the vast majority of people don’t. Or they think that having a 4-wheel-drive SUV exempts them from the laws of physics.

Poor KrisDi and Snaotheus are stuck in that traffic, albeit on surface streets so they can get home without the freeway, but streets blocked with a thousand cars are still blocked and you can’t move on them, and icy streets are slippery no matter what. I’ll be interested to hear their tale; maybe Snaotheus will do some off-roading on the way home.

Thanks to the aforementioned ankle issues, I haven’t been able to get into the yard to do the usual autumn things (eight weeks, remember?). So when the news guys said “make sure your outside faucets are insulated,” I thought, “Oh, crap. It isn’t. And the hose is still attached. And I don’t have one-a them nifty foam faucet covers, either.”

I dithered and dathered and decided that since it’s supposed to get down to 10-ish tonight and stay below freezing for the next few days, I’d better cover the dang thing with a towel or something to protect the pipes as much as possible. So I put the phone in my pocket, got out some gloves, squeezed my snowboots on (it hurt, too), picked up my cane, a big towel and some string, and started outside. The first step onto uneven snow, still on the deck, I realized this was going to rank right up there as One of the Stupidest Things I Ever Did.

Instead of continuing, I actually turned around, came back in, called one of my neighbors and pleaded with him to rescue me. And he did. My faucet’s already frozen, but at least it won’t freeze any farther back in (and I think there’s some kind of valve in there to help prevent that, anyway). He disconnected my hose (with pliers, for pete’s sake), too. And was very nice about it.

If this is the beginning of a trend, it could be a problem: If I start Doing the Smart Thing on a regular basis, whatever will I have to write about?!?

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Bloody damned snow.

That’s all. Snow. Four inches of it. Not a good thing given the instability issues.

Nature hates me.

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‘Sweet li’l movie wif a coupla ghosts. . . ‘

Yeah, mmm-hmmm. Haven’t I heard this before?

Friend of mine was watching a movie the other day (The Eclipse) and told me it was, well, what the headline says. He knows my dislike of horror films. “They’re not bad ghosts like a horror film,” he said. “It was a sweet story and the ghosts weren’t very scary, they just popped up three or four times.”

I hear this as “the ghosts are the usual, semitransparent, and they just kind of drift around.” So while I’m communing with my nightly ice, I pull the movie up on Netflix. It goes along nicely, etc., until suddenly


a ghost pops up, complete with facial lesions, stark staring black eyes, an’ general gharstliness.

Well, OK, not scary, exactly, but certainly startling. Movie goes on, man goes over to the closet and gets down on his hands and knees to look at a shoe. The music becomes the Kyrie section of a Latin mass, sung to wobbly music. He touches the shoe and


said ghost pops up out of the floor and tries to drag the poor wee man down into. . . someplace dark and icky, I guess. O’ course, you know what’s coming now, an’ the next time the music involves the Kyrie, you get suspicious. But it’s longer than you expect and you’ve relaxed your guard before


the damn ghost pops up again. Well, crap, and you thought you were ready for that one.

He said three or four times, and the fourth time did not involve either lesions, blackened eyes, or gharstliness, so it didn’t get a shriek or a jump. So I got through the movie.

However, it may be a while before I can hear the Kyrie without apprehension.

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One step forward, three steps back

Apparently, I am at present victim to what an old friend calls Smiting. I’m not sure what gods I’ve offended, but they must be royally pissed, since evidently they intend for me to spend the rest of my freakin’ life on the bed with ice on my feet. Oh, wait—I’m wrong! Ice on only one foot!

Feh. (Yes, I overdid it yesterday. Wanna make somethin’ of it?)

I have borrowed a pattern from another friend to make a Baby Surprise Jacket for (trumpet fanfare) Chilkat. This has an extremely odd construction, made all in one piece with a bunch of miters stuck next to each other, and then one seam sewn across the shoulders. Apparently, it is a Prerequisite for Grandmothership to make one of these. Not an area where I want to be deficient! It looks thus when finished.

A couple of days ago, one of Grandma’s chief friends came rushing up to me, going on about Grandma throwing money away or something; I couldn’t make much sense of it. As I promised her I’d check on it and turned away, the charge nurse rushed down the hall toward me. Grandma was in the background. CN handed me one of those foam-backed, floppy eyeglass holders into which the glasses are inserted at one end, and told me Grandma had been fussing around telling her that she had some money in there and was sure it was so old it wasn’t any good anymore, and she wanted to throw it out.

Since I haven’t let Grandma have actual cash money for several years (because a) she doesn’t have anything to spend it on and b) she stashes it away in gods-know-where places and then can’t remember where they are), I wasn’t too excited. . . except that it turned out to be $35. What I want to know is. . . where did she get $35?!? Am I going to have cops showing up on my doorstep, telling me they’ve hauled away me ol’ mum in handcuffs and shackles? Will she show up on the police blotter for B&E?

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Guy Fawkes and the birthday fire

The kids came up to visit and brought The World’s Richest Birthday Cake (“It’s got five sticks of butter!”), which was seriously, I mean seriously, delicious (though I did point out it would be more efficient to just shove each of the sticks of butter jam-smack into the respective coronary arteries, and the fifth one into the aorta). We met my buds for lunch, whereupon one of them said to Snaotheus, “Oh, you’re the good son!”

We shared Killer Cake with them, and I tried but failed to send some home with them, but did manage to get the waitress to take a piece. If I take some to a friend tomorrow and to Grandma, then maybe I’ll end up with only three coronary arteries blocked. The kids had ordered me a new camera battery (mine won’t hold a charge very well anymore), and then bought me an entire case of swill in addition to helping me get groceries and hauling them down the stairs. Which is still greatly appreciated, although ye Badde Ankle is getting marginally better. KrisDi is convinced I have a stress fracture. 😉 She could be right.

After dinner, we went by to see Grandma for a few minutes. I bent over to hug her. She saw S&K, shrieked, and flung her arms out. This let her whack me in the face and smack me out of the way so she could hug them instead. Nice to know where I stand in the pecking order, eh? Quite amusing for the younger set. 😉 K is now getting multiple hugs, so she can pass them on to the grandfetus. 😉

Oh, and I mustn’t forget, they also bestowed upon me an awesome amount of their awesome awesomeness. :)They really are awesomely awesome!

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Refraining from a hissy fit

Well, congratulations, America. You’ve put the fox right back in the henhouse! If only your idiocy didn’t affect my life.

I’m in a deep, dark funk this ayem. Just about every jackass in the running got elected out here, an’ I’m back on my Saving Up To Move To Canada Program. What is it with people? Are they too stupid to realize that a) despite their spinelessness and eyeball-rollingness, Democrats are NOT the people who got us into this godsawful economic mess (remember, Bush inherited a budget surplus from the Democrats), b) it takes more than two years to drag OUT of such a horrific mess, and c) they’ve just put back into place the very people who DID make the mess?!?!?!?

I just shriek about people who freak out at the word “socialism.” It’s not a dirty word. We are a socialist country, and have been for a very long time: We have socialized police departments, socialized public school, socialized fire-fighting and some emergency medical services, socialized healthcare in Medicare… and so on.

Don’t like all the new “fees” you have to pay for things? Thank a conservative. They gut budgets, agencies have to cut costs, fees get put in place… and the people who most need services can’t afford the fees.

We haven’t gone to hell because of socialized services; we’ve gone to hell because there is a very large ultra-conservative faction that wants to strip government of all its funding and dismantle it, leaving everything to private companies (which, of course, they themselves will profit from).

And oh, yeah, that works well, doesn’t it? Unregulated and/or unsupervised corporations? Yeah, mmm-hmmmmm. Can you say BP? Enron? Andersen?

My views haven’t changed that much over the years, and I was a Republican in my youth. What has changed is that the GOP has been jerked so far to the right that Attila the Hun would blush. The Democrats have by default taken over the formerly moderate GOP ground, and we have no liberal party in this country. I just despair.

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Warm, fuzzy happiness

Despite the appallingly dismal election returns, I am pleased today. I have a new housecoat! (The old one was about 20 years old—no wonder it was worn out.) It is fuzzy and warm chenille! It buttons up! It has pockets! It sheds like crazy, but it’s cozy!

Who knew happiness was to be had in warm, fuzzy clothing?!

Later: OK, so it sheds worse’n the dog. It’s gone six times through the dryer on “air fluff” and it’s still filling up the lint filter. But hey, it’s warm an’ cozy!

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