Sunday, February 25, 2007
The Soft Coated Wheaten Terrier is - rather counterintuitively - a farm dog. And of course then there's the German Shepherd. Lexi and her BFF Kahu are partners in crime. This weekend they tromped through the rain and the wet fields at the river and showed up on the front porch looking like Thelma and Louise.
Did I mention that I made cupcakes?
Thursday, February 22, 2007
You can watch it here.
And Lexi made friends at the yarn shop. Plus there's all the company we've been keeping with the mice. Jac has caught three this week. That is something I held back last night when I hosted knit night. It's true, the house was full of knitters and other practitioners of needle arts last night. We knit and drank and it was luscious.
I am not thrilled with my current knitting projects though, I started a hat for Jac, all in navy on the way to New York and I made two little mistakes in it and now it is quite frankly dead to me. I think I may need to frog that sucker. Next up is a purple shawl thing I am making from the dollar yarn my mom got me. I think its twice as wide as it should be to be as long as I'd like it to be... uh oh, that might mean more frogging!
I've been digging into family roots and I have to say, you're a bit screwed if your name is Mary Margaret Murphy or John Murphy, from oh, gee, thanks, Ireland. How the hell am I going to find you? The real you. Give me a good Lodelius anyday or a Bathurst, I'll take one of those. And all you Williams - forget about it! I am probably going about genealogy all wrong because when I find information on a family I go all up and out in all different directions. I don't care if something is "by marriage", I'm all about it. And boy, my people could really marry some cousins.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Do these cats look relaxed to you? Because they should. They should look very well rested, fed and groomed. That's what they get for picking us as their humans. Now gee, what do we get for picking them as our cats?
Well, I just roused my sick husband from bed because when confronted by the obvious sound of a mouse stuck on a glue trap under the stove in our kitchen I was dumbstruck about what I could possibly do.
I didn't place the glue traps so I didn't have a super strong idea where to look (aside from the obvious ickkkk scratching). I don't generally handle things involving a flashlight in the house, so I was plumb dumb about where the good ones were - though I suspected one might be in the basement - even scarier. I felt like a total girl and not in a good way like grrrl. Under normal circumstances I would have gotten Jac on the case the moment I even had the faintest notion something might be not quite right. But this particular night, Jac is as white as a sheet, hotter than usual, but shivvering his timbers off. He was in bed, sleeping, blissfully unaware of the tiny terror beneathe the stove!
Seriously, what's a girl to do? The second thought that ran through my head was, "Surely there must be someone who can be paid to deal with this!" But that whole proposition didn't go down as planned the last time we were presented with mice by the apparently now retired cats. Terminix showed up and sprayed for bugs, but left us 7 glue traps with some faint notion we might catch mice.
I walked out to the front porch and picked up a large shovel Jac had used this morning to unearth his car from ice plowed around his tires. I carried it in and wondered what I could do with it. I thought about every kitchen utensil we had and wondered which might help - can I do something with tongs? The thing continued to squirm somewhere back there in the darkness. The shovel tipped over and knocked me on the noggin. Shit!
Now the husband (you know, the Husband of Interminable Patience) was up and wondering what hairbrained antics Lucy was involved in now. That's when St. Jac got down on his hands and knees, commanded some grocery bags, wielded a pair of bamboo skewers (to drag the trap out of the darkness) and took charge.
I gotta say, Jac is, as previously mentioned, a person of nearly unparalleled patience. If he really gets mad at you in traffic because you nearly took our lives he might go so far as to flash his headlights at you. What a hothead. So watching Jac fly into action was more than a little surprising.
I looked down at the tiny little brown critter, one leg stuck in glue and thought of the neighborhood Hippy Chick posting on the listserv about how she's been having to empty her humane mouse trap more often lately. I thought for a moment about finding a way to get outside with that sucker and let it take it's chances somewhere over by the greasy spoon restaurant. I thought... shit! It's gone, like a flash it was off the glue, across the kitchen and back into the deep recesses of our gaping attic stairwell.
So now, cats asleep, Husband of High Fever and Interminable Patience and Valiant Courage Under Rodent Invasion, is asleep, good for nothin' but petting pretty dog is asleep and the Girl of the House is hyperconscious of every little itch and twitch wondering from whence the next assault might occur.
But this Girl has one superpower - the power of Intense Overreaction Enhanced by Credit and tomorrow morning I'll be at Home Depot with one of the big, flat carts.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
First the practical reasons Washington needs to "shut down" when it only gets a small amount of snow:
1) We have crappy roads that cannot handle traffic under normal conditions and when you mess with them, even slightly the whole system goes to hell.
2) Washington is a transient region, and you haven't lived until you've been in an area populated by people who have never seen snow before in their lives but now find themselves behind the wheel of a car.
3) Most of Washington is outside of Washington - it's in the exurbs and the infamous "North and West of the City" that get nailed with snow - those are the folks who already leave home at 6 am to commute to work from oh, West Virginia, and now they have 3 hours of snowbound rural roads to pass to haul themselves in to a job working for a guy who can't say "nuclear".
Now on to the real reasons Washington needs to shut down when it only gets a small amount of snow:
1) We've got a ton of lawyers and if I slip on my way into work I'm suing your ass.
2) Crazy ladies like Freakazois insist everyone stay home and clear their sidewalks the instant the snow stops falling so that they can walk their dogs and babies.
3) We have all that bread and toilet paper we need to use up before it goes bad.
4) We work so crazy freaking hard everyday and have no boundaries (hello, client calling at 9:30 on Valentine's Day!) that when we hear there's a chance of a snow day we start fantacizing about the chance to do laundry, pay bills and sleep past 6.
5) It's the only day the pussies stay home and let the normal people go shopping, letting us blissfully stroll aisles free of maniacs.
6) Less Congressional votes, more opportunities for Intern Luuuuv Scandals.
7) Washington is the Red Sox and Susan Lucci of Big Winter Storms. We go to bed with visions of snowdrifts in our head and wake up to see a knuckle worth of snow statistically 99.98746% of the time. Oh right, but the Red Sox and Susan Lucci both eventually won. So we are actually less well rewarded.
There are many, oh so many, more reasons, but here's you're big chance to see what it's like to be a Washingtonian, I'll just tease you with them and then hold back.
But it was my mother, calling to wish me a Happy Valentine's Day. I talked quickly and then hung up and journalled about it for 2 hours. The gist was that it is not a good thing if your mother is absolutely certain she can call you at 9:30 on Valentine's Day.
Fast forward seven years. February 14, 2007. Now married and happily enjoying Valentine's Night with the wonderful husband who showed up just two months after that old dreaded Valentine's Night. And the phone rings again at 9:30. The wuss does not leave a message. A short time later... I *69 the caller and it is... a client.
WTF are you out of your friggin' mind you call a happily married woman, a woman who hasn't even been married four years on Valentine's Night at 9:30?!?!?!?!?
That all leads me to Why Washington Needs to Close For an Inch of Snow, but that is another blog entry.
We checked in and headed up to our room- it seriously felt like we were the first people who’d ever stayed there. I wrote an imaginary web comment on the hotel in my head and stretched my head to try to find anything that wasn’t perfect.
The next morning, we woke up early and headed down for a stale bagel from the complimentary continental breakfast. When we walked in I was surprised by the smell of fresh Belgian waffles. I set one to cook and settled in with breakfast.
A moment later a Mommy with a Capital M walked in with her child in tow. She had been staying there a couple of days and asked the girl if she wanted a Belgian waffle again. The mom then started the mind-blowing task of making waffles. She poured the pre-measured, pre-mixed batter into the waffle maker, dropped the lid and walked away. The thing was beeping like mad. It continued to beep and beep. Finally, the little room monitor walked over and flipped it over. The Mommy returned and marveled at the woman, “Oh you have to turn it over?!”
For some reason, the first thought in my mind was that this woman had clearly never gone to college. She was about my age, and had a short “kicky” Hair Cuttery haircut, but if she’d gone to a college cafeteria at some point she probably would have popped her Belgian Waffle cherry long long ago.
Then the woman couldn’t understand when her waffle was done. Then she couldn’t get it out of the pan. She got the oil spray and started making a second waffle. Oh Dear Lord in Heaven Above.
Again, she walked away leaving the thing beeping like mad. This time my Husband of Interminable Patience got up, walked over and flipped it over. When the Mommy returned, she was petrified the waffle would burn and kept checking it to see if it was done. Just as I began to think there could be no more limited-skilled an individual, the rest of her family walked in and it was apparent in an instance that she was their leader. OMFG LOL
They had some mind-numbing conversation over breakfast while my Husband of Interminable Patience silently calculated my chance of early demise from Stress Over Stupid People Who Are Everywhere.
- - -
When we got up this morning and headed to breakfast around 8, I have to admit it occurred to me that we would be dining at a family-friendly hour. We walked in and the place was pretty packed. Sure enough, the Mommy with a Capital M family was there in full force. They were mid-moronic conversation again. I vaguely overheard their plan to head over to the train station later today.
Holy shit! Is that the mother of Mommy with a Capital M? How many people go through Penn Station each day? Why do we run into the whole MWACM posse again? As the character in The Princess Bride would say, “Inconceivable.”
And a moment later she was at our track asking the attendant if her infernal family could pre-board. They headed down onto OUR TRAIN.
I told Husband of Interminable Patience that we could ride any car but theirs. We watched them move along the track and climbed aboard. I stood in the aisle holding my breath to see if we could cheat Destiny. For the love of everything people, what are you doing on my train?
We grabbed our bags and headed out of the car, surrendering the last renovated car to the MWACM mafia. At long last we found a pair of seats in a car dated circa 1977 with non-functional power outlets.
First, the couture. When you think it’s a great idea to wear Great Dane head to toe, well, you’re special. We saw a Bedlington breeder who was the embodiment of the notion that people come to resemble their pets. We saw mullets on women that were rare in nature.
There were the glittery ball gowns in day time and the animal prints on elephant sized individuals. We circulated to meet the breeders, all of whom are eager to meet prospective dog buyers, except for a young, inexperienced girl I met who answered, “May I pet your dog?” with, “Well, he’s going to be in the show.” I didn’t ask to lick her dog or to bathe it in motor oil. Good grief, leave the dog in his crate if you can’t bear for people to touch him.
We saw the big dogs – the Newfie, Great Dane, and the lovely Black Russian Terrier, the little – the Peek, the Norwich/Norfolk/Australian/Cairn terriers and everything in between. That included my beloved Soft Coated Wheaten Terrier. I cannot fathom why they groom the Wheaten the way they do, but as convinced as I am I should, I don’t make the rules of Dog World. As usual the damn poodle won the working group. Poodles really need to be their OWN group – let the poodles go head to head and sent one representative to the final face off. They can really stack the deck with some poodles.
Wow, can dog people buy some crappy crap. There were figurines, and posters, magnets, 10k gold rings, tapestries and general junk. I hunted for One Good Souvenir, but there were none to be found.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
You know her, that's Helen Thomas of White House Press Corps fame.
We had some lovely gastronomie (little hint there y'all) and then headed to many many yarn shops and comic shops.
Bethesda's yarn shop did not wow me. I am glad that I have my beloved Knit Happens between work & home.
D.C.'s yarn shop was precious, but the size of a shoebox. A girl needs a lot more yarn than that!!
I'm going to go out on a limb and say that our next-street-over neighbors are doing some of the construction on their major renovation themselves since they are all about all day Saturday power noise.
Makes a girl miss her river. It really does.
Friday, February 09, 2007
So much so that last night I was all pent up thinking about the stuff that had to be handled today. Where oh where is my three or four day work week?!?! Okay girl, you can suck it up.
So now it is Thursday afternoon and after a hectic, annoying (the effing Flower People parked in my space again, and showed up to move their car at the moment I was having it towed), and too busy morning, I have gotten the big stuff done and am now able to start thinking about actually having a life again.
I finished my melonheaded red hat last night. I need to swing by the knitting store to get some delicious yarn to knit up this weekend. Something winter-y.
My dog is zonked out at my feet in the office. It really is much nicer when she's here. She's wearing her winter coat today since it's freezing out. Oddly enough, I am not wearing a coat.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
We've got a batty astronaut and we're down one flighty blonde celebrity. The weather is weird everywhere and everyone I know has been touched by a sudden, strange illness all of varying origin and severity.
I did finish a knitted object tonight. A red hat. It is made for a melon head, that is for sure. It's quite round.
I mentioned that my whole December was eaten up by a whirlwind project. Now that same client is back with more work with a February 26 deadline. I'm glad for the work, but I'm finding myself with little tolerance for pressure and arbitrary interim deadlines.
At least we are just a few days away from Westminster!
Monday, February 05, 2007
Jac and I had an action-packed weekend. He took a half day on Friday and we went to the very yummy Coastal Flats. We got some shopping and errands done. We even had a nice healthy & romantic dinner at Bilbo Baggins. Though my photobloggin leaves quite a bit to be desired.
We bought some needed furniture at the glamorous IKEA which Jac spent quite a while assembling. And shock of shocks we got off our duffs and went to visit friends at their house on Saturday.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
She is China's youngest tv chef. At 9 she's got a show and a cookbook on the way. I would stand in the scary little kitchen of the ghetto-hood-tastic townhouse we lived in and narrate my meal preparation. Sometimes aloud, sometimes on the D.L. Ah, but to be a little Chinese girl with wild poofy sleeve thinggies.
There is some knitting going on. Shamed to admit I'm stymied by a cabling instruction in my current pattern that I've been too slack to look up.