I Only Want It If It Is Exquisite

It was probably the worst day and time to go to the post office. Just a few weeks before Christmas, prime mailing time. It was also 1:00. Everyone though that was a good time. It was not a good time. In fact, it was right smack in the middle of the worker's lunch so there was only one cashier to assist the ever growing line.

I had no choice. My swap buddy needed her gift and I had sold some DVDs that I can only presume were going to be Christmas presents.  So I waited along with everyone else.

Midway to my destination, I noticed the guy in front of me and took a really good look at him.  He was wearing dress slacks, a mid length black leather coat, a hat that was somewhere between a cowboy hat and a fedora, and rose colored glasses.  

He also had nothing in his hands whatsoever.

Unusual as most people had multiple packages and envelopes in our hands and we were all trying to figure out where to set them down to ease our burdens.  So I wondered why the man in front of me was there.* Finally, we reached our destination and he was next.  He stepped up to the counter and very quietly and with great concentration said:

"I would like one exquisite stamp."

While I tried to wrap my head around why someone would wait in line for almost an hour, the cashier tried to find him an exquisite stamp:

"How about this one?"

"Nope."

"This one?"

"Nope."

He eliminated them all until none were left and finally settled on one.  Then he wanted to pay his 42 cents or whatever and take one stamp.  After much debate, he was told he would have to buy the whole book and that he could not, in fact, have just one exquisite stamp.

I guess you can't always get what you want, especially if it is exquisite.

Here's hoping you got everything you wanted today and throughout the year!

Merry Christmas,
Peace and Love,

 

Wordless Wednesday: Orange You Glad It Was Just a Storm?

Ramblings of a Riddler...A Horn, Iced Tea and 1993.

I was driving behind a mini van when I noticed that the driver and the passenger are in some sort of argument. The driver gives the passenger a shove. Then, out of nowhere, the passenger whips out a huge musical horn (like a big band horn) and blows it at the driver. Because it is so big, though, it is really blowing in front of his face and not by his ear. Just like that it is gone. Where did it go? Where did it come from? Was I seeing things?

***

I was so hot after the walking house tour this year that I decided I needed two Starbucks iced teas. Since they were both for me, I just got one straw. I met B at the car and told him I was glad he was there so it looked like I had bought him one, even though I hadn't.  We were driving off when I see B out of the corner of my eye pick up the tea to drink. Of course he has the one without a straw. Of course I watch to see what will happen. He tries to find the straw with his mouth three times before looking down and then looking at me and saying "How many times were you going to let me do that?"  Is forever a good answer?

***

I told B that I won my first win of June, a CD. He responded by saying "Way to win a prize from the past."  Yes, 1990 is supplying my prizes these days.

***

What Happens If You Unfriend Your Only Friend? Are You Friendless or Are You Free?

I heard somewhere that today is National Unfriend Day or something. Facebook users are supposed to pare down their friend list and get rid of the unnecessary bulk.  This topic is extremely timely as I have found that I have recently been defriended by a few people.

Now, I do not particularly care if someone defriends me. Except maybe my mom, although she is not on Facebook.  Okay, maybe my brother, my husband, my best friend, that would be sad.  Random people that I reconnected with, but haven't really talked to much? I take no offense.  Time is short. Life is hard. Facebook is full of posts.  Although in my defense, I don't post a lot. Wait. Maybe I am boring people?

In any event, I typically only notice I have been defriended when it is someone that posts a lot and then all of a sudden they stop.  No, they didn't stop. They are still posting endlessly on Facebook, I just don't get to see it.  On to the next 100 posts from friends and family.

But you know what is strange? When you get defriended by someone who only has one friend on Facebook - YOU.  Seriously this just happened to me. Actually, I don't know when it happened because you are not exactly notified when your friendship has been deactivated.  I will pretend it just happened.

So, I am going through my old facebook messages and I find one from this friend that I invited to Facebook. That's right, he wasn't even on Facebook until I came calling. Better yet, I was his only friend. That was a bit strange.  You know what else is strange?  He would post things to his wall, news articles and tidbits and I realized, as his only friend, he was posting directly to me!  Was I supposed to comment on every thing he posted? Why did he think I wanted to read articles from the Wall Street Journal? Was he trying to tell me something?  I guess now I will never know.

You know what is stranger? He is still on Facebook. Without any friends.  Yes, I have been defriended by someone who would rather have no friends than be my friend.  It is like he is the king of Facebook, but he doesn't have any subjects.  

Facebook = bringing people together, tearing them apart, and killing all self esteem.

Now who can *I* defriend??

Halloween Part Deux - Peanut Butter, Caution Tape and Cold Asses. Well Maybe Just One.

As you may be aware, the other night was Halloween. If you have been reading for a while, then you also know that we get a lot of children in these parts. And I mean a lot! Remember last year?  This year was no different.  The first car load was dropped off on a corner at 4:30!  After about 45 minutes they started making their way down the street even though it was still light.  By 5:30 things were in full swing and we were passing out candy left and right.

B grew big pumpkins again this year, although not as big as last year. He also carved three of them. I carved none.  

This is the one with all of the holes drilled in that looks so cool at night lit up:

This is B's pumpkin face:

Our nephew. You can find more of his Halloween pictures here:

He looked like he had many fingers, but he only had 10:

You are probably wondering what this is all about. Well, my sister-in-law took part in an advance sneak peek at some new Snickers candy.  As part of the campaign, she got materials and treats to give out on Halloween and she and my nephew came to our house since we get a lot of traffic.  We put up the Snickers sign, the tape, and the spiderwebs:

My nephew only cared about the pumpkins:

We were the only house on the block with the treats. Even adults were asking for them. I totally made up a random rule that if a child read the sign out loud they got a treat.* You cannot believe how many read it out loud!

Darkness finally fell:

And we finally ran out of candy.**  Not before seeing a Jason Voorheis adult sized mask on a five year old thereby making him the first horror movie dwarf, a equally small but proportionate Freddy Kreuger and the 10 year old in some kind of mask with, what I hope was a plastic bayonet, strolling down the street at a determined pace without a bag of candy. I hope he wasn't killing anyone.

And if you were wondering, the new Snickers has a secret ingredient:

Yes, it is peanut butter. I thought it tasted like a regular Snickers but when I ate them back to back I could tell the difference. Why yes I had to eat more than a few. Research people!

Next year I am going to convince B that we should do this to our house:

Piece of cake.  Or candy if you will.

*I had other random rules such as "OH MY GOD THAT KID IS SO CUTE - give him lots of candy."

**Or maybe we didn't, but I feared we would. And my butt was cold. Really cold.

I Got Into a Fight With a Ram Once

Family meals are much more than heartwarming times with those you love. In our family, it is also fodder for stories, and those stories are fodder for my blog. I mean where else would you find someone who would just casually say "I got into a fight with a ram once" and have it followed by an actual story?  That would be my brother. 

This is his story.

I got into a fight with a ram once.  I went into his pen, then when I wasn't looking and had my back to him, he tried ramming me in the ass with his horns. So I just kept pushing his head back. Whenever I would let go of his head though, he would back up to charge me. Eventually I just got tired and jumped over the fence. The end.

So many questions:

1. Why were you in a pen with a ram?
2. Why did you turn your back to him?
3. What could be so important to make you leave an animal with horns facing your ass?
4. If you could just jump the fence to get free, why did you stay and try to push the ram back?
5. How long did the fight last?
6. Who really won?

Maybe my brother will be kind enough to answer these questions. Or maybe the mystery is what makes this story so intriguing.

*After I said I was going to put this on my blog, my brother declared that he and my father had just discussed how you cannot say anything around me anymore.  I then challenged them to tell me the last time I put anything they said on my blog.  They then made puppy eyes and indicated that they were devastated that I never talked about them.**

** Oh, but I do.

Facebook: Bringing People Together. Sometimes Two People that Aren't Married Although One of Them Thinks They Are. Wait...What?

It all started with an innocent status update from a friend:

"Anyone that found my husband, John Smith, as a friend through me, please delete. I have the wrong John Smith."

That's right folks. She friended someone she thought was her husband but he wasn't! Not only that, he accepted her friendship. And, they were Facebook friends for quite some time before she figured it out.

Of course, then the jokes began:

"Did you find a better husband?"

"You should tell him that he is not your husband. Do it on Father's Day."

"But does he kiss the same?"

Apparently, everyone in her family had a good laugh due to this. However, it would appear that the last laugh was on the poor wrong John Smith. You see, my friend badgered him into putting up a photo because he didn't have one and even recruited her family to badger him as well. And he caved! To a bunch of strangers. Strangers that thought he was related to them.

Until he put up a picture, that is.

Well, for his wife. The other friends and family members just thought he looked strange. Some kept sending him messages. I wonder why this guy put up with this for so long. I mean, even though I changed his name, the last name was VERY common. Did he just think he was related to them?

It makes you wonder...is everyone that is your friend on Facebook REALLY your friend?

{insert spooky music here}

It's Like Hoarders Mobile Edition with Less Space but Amazingly More Stuff

This is the scene that presented itself to me when I pulled into the parking lot at my office the other day. Can you even imagine? Who drives around with that much stuff? Why would someone need that much stuff?

Do you think they do a mobile edition of Hoarders? The people would be forced to identify everything in their vehicle and explain why they "need" it. The person who owns the car below appears to be living in it, therefore he might need everything.

And B says MY car is messy! I can assure you it has never looked like that, no matter what he tries to tell you. That B, always prone to exaggeration.*

In other news, Happy Friday, bitches! I hope your weekend is filled with fun, but not laundry and garbage.

Especially if it is in your car.

*B thinks I am a major exaggerator...exaggerater? I exaggerate a lot. So says B. I like to think it is more like artistic license. Oh, and also truth.

I May Not Be a Lyrical Genius, But I Am Pretty Sure This One is About Sex. A Lot of Sex.

Okay, I will readily admit I am not a lyrical genius. Hell, I didn't even realize that Cyndi Lauper's song "She Bop" was about masturbation until I was an adult. An adult! I honestly have no clue what I thought it was about before that, bopping to music?

However, over time, I really started paying attention to lyrics. Maybe it is the hidden 14 year old in me still writing poetry. Or maybe it is the budding writer in me trying to find meaning in everything. Don't we all have a budding writer in us? In any event, my analysis of lyrics applies to old and new songs.

Apparently, not everyone shares this analysis. Some people, um B, take the words at face value. Kind of like me with She Pop or Olivia Newton John's "Let's Get Physical." (What do you mean that wasn't about exercising).

So the other day, B and I were driving home and listening to some vintage Prince, Little Red Corvette. Around the time of these lyrics, I start analyzing out loud:

~'Cuz you had a pocket full of horses

Trojan and some of them used~

This prompted me to say to B:

Me: Gross! Who carries used condoms in their pockets?

B: What are you talking about?

Me: Um, this song and the girl with the used condoms.

B: What makes you think she has used condoms?

Me: "you had a pocket full of horses, TROJAN and some of them USED"

B: I don't think so.

Then came these lyrics:

~I guess I shoulda closed my eyes

When you drove me to the place

where your horses run free~

Me: That's her vagina!*

B: You are crazy.

Me: Am I? What about these lyrics?

~'Cuz I felt a little ill

When I saw all the pictures

Of the jockeys that were there before me~

Me: Those are her past lovers.

B: Uh, huh.

~Move over baby, gimme the keys

I'm gonna try to tame your

little red love machine~

Me: VAGINA!

~Honey you got to slow down

Little red corvette

'Cuz if you don't

your gonna run little red corvette right in the ground~

Me: He is talking about AIDS.

B: NO HE IS NOT.

Me: Okay, maybe an STD.

B: No.

Me: What do YOU think this song is about?

Am I wrong here ladies? Gentlemen? What is this song about in your view?

*Well, okay, it may actually have been about her bedroom, but yelling VAGINA was much more shocking.

**I still think vagina is a viable option since he was calling lovers jockeys and all.

It's Like If These Walls Could Talk, But it is a Person Telling the Story

You have heard the expression "if these walls could talk", haven't you? Actually, now when I hear that expression I think of the miniseries that was on HBO. There were two parts, the first part had to do with abortion in various periods of times and the second had to do with lesbianism over certain time periods. This post is about neither.

As I am sure you know if you are a regular reader of this blog, we love old homes. We love touring them, seeing them, living in them. We were completely thrilled that we actually have the original blueprints to our house and the original deeds dating back to when it was built in the 1930s.

Every so often we will hear stories about previous owners from our neighbors, especially the ones that didn't want us to get air, since they have lived here the longest. Usually the stories are about the couple we bought the house from and usually start with "That Mandy sure did like to drink..." Seriously, one day I am going to have to share some of the stories with you. They are too fun.

And every once in a while we we will hear about the couple before them. An older couple that lived here a while. The ones who planted all of our beautiful flowers around the house. But we don't know too much about them, mostly their name and they liked flowers. For blog purposes, I will call them the Bunkers. Why? I think it would be a hoot if Archie Bunker lived in my house. Well, as long as he didn't smoke that nasty cigar.

So, to the point, the other day B comes home and says "Guess who I met?" all excitedly. I have no clue. That man meets all kinds of people. Turns out he met the Bunkers' son. He was doing some work on the house across the street. So B forced him to come tour our house because he wanted answers about our kitchen. You know - the kitchen with the very tiny dishwasher, the weird cut out, and only one drawer? Yes, B demanded answers.

This is what he found out. The Bunkers always had their fridge in the weird cut out. Always.

We thought it might have been the stove area or a heater, but he confirmed it was the fridge. He also said that the ownes before us tore up cabinets, the counter, and A DRAWER to move the fridge over to the other area:

If I could find them, I think I might kill them. They removed storage to create nothing but space. Oh and to get a bigger fridge. Also? They put in that teeny tiny dishwasher. His parents always had a portable one. Now, I wouldn't want a portable one either, but it would seem to me maybe putting a full size one where the fridge is might be a better idea. But what do I know? I am just someone that doesn't like having to run the dishwasher EVERY day and sometimes twice. We own stock in Electrasol.

Another fun fact? The door on the right in this picture was completely covered when the Bunkers bought it. The whole room was *gasp* full of paneling. It wasn't until they looked at the blueprints that they realized there was a door there and opened it back up:

And this weird area in the basement? It was a bar area like some had predicted:

Also? We are only the FOURTH owners of this home. Before the Bunkers, the house was built for a big funeral home family in the area. They owned it, the Bunkers, the Schmidts, and then us. Fascinating.

B plans on framing the blueprints and putting them on the wall. I think he is a decorating genius.

*Yes, these are super old pictures of the house, but I am behind in updating you on our progress and didn't want to ruin any surprises.

This Doesn't Sound Like a Very Good Horoscope

The other day, I found this horoscope in my email box. At first it sounded delightful:

You are on the brink of something fantastic, DANIELLE, so just hang in there a little bit longer. It could be that you feel like the little train engine who is slowly working her way up the mountain. Perhaps you have made compromises and sacrifices along the way in order to get where you are. Just keep going. Pretty soon you will top the crest, and the rest of the journey will be all downhill. The tremendous work you have put in will pay off generously.

Wait.

"The rest of the journey will be all downhill."

Downhill? Doesn't that sound...um, bad? Like, "oh, it's all downhill from here" [insert sad face].

I mean, really. Who wants to "top the crest" only to fall all the way down. Can't I stay on that crest for a while?

Lessons learned:

1. Hard work does NOT pay off.
2. Crests are temporary.
3. Being at the top means you are going to fall.
4. Downhill = bad
5. Horoscopes are stupid.

Um, Your Baby Sounds Like a Furnace and I Am Pretty Sure That Is Not a Good Thing

Today I had to go to the doctor. You know, THAT doctor. The one that wants you to say "Ahhh" with parts other than your mouth. Yeah, I just grossed myself out with that one.

In any event, I had a bunch of time to kill while dressed in a gown with the opening facing front and a piece of paper over my lap. As in 30 minutes worth of time. Did I mention it was freezing in there?

As I was studying the poster that explained the various parts of a vagina*, I realized that I could hear an ultrasound happening next door. This was not surprising as there were about 50 pregnant women in the lobby when I arrived. So I listened to the WOM WOM WOM sound and thought to myself:

You are witnessing a little life growing and a little heart beating. How precious.

Then I thought:

Wow! That heart is beating fast.

Followed by:

That heart sounds like a train. THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THAT BABY. WTF PEOPLE? IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE??

Then I got distracted when I heard that my doctor had a phone call and began to think I might have to frickin' call into work if this first thing in the morning appointment went any longer when I realized that damn ultrasound sound was STILL GOING ON. So I thought:

That is one hell of a long ultrasound.

And:

That can't be right.

And it wasn't. You know why? It was the frickin' heating and cooling in the building making that noise.

THE FURNACE.

Yes, I totally thought the furnace was an ultrasound.

The doctor eventually came in, heard the story and immediately revoked my female gender card.

But first he made me open wide.

*The more you know...

When You Plan on Staying Home Sick from Work, it is Probably Best to Actually Tell Your Office

It is early morning. Dani woke up to her usual routine - shower, breakfast, internet, dress and leave for the office. However, somewhere between breakfast and internet, Dani decided she wasn't going to be able to get to the leave for the office part. She thought she was getting better. She went to the office the day before, but today she needed more rest. And more Nyquil. So she emailed her secretary, took another dose and went back to bed.

And so she slept.

Meanwhile, at the office...nobody has heard from Dani. Everyone is asking her secretary where she is, but nobody has an answer. Her secretary emails her, but gets no response.

And so she sleeps.

Around 11 am, the office starts to get worried. Dani's co-worker calls and gets her voicemail. One of the partners calls and gets her voicemail. The managing partner calls and gets her voicemail.

She still sleeps with the faint sound of the phone ringing in the background. They will call back, she thinks.

Meanwhile at the office...panic has set in. "There was an accident on the freeway," someone suggests. "We should call her old employer for contact information" screams another. Someone texts her. Another calls her. THERE IS NO ANSWER they yell to each other. The whole firm has gotten involved. They have notified one employee that she has to drive to Dani's house to see if she is okay. Someone else suggests they call Dani's cell phone company to find a signal on her. A third person starts scrambling through papers to find info for B.

And so she sleeps.

And then she is startled awake at 2:00 p.m. by her husband screaming:

GET UP! YOUR OFFICE IS LEAVING ME MESSAGES. CALL THEM!

And so she awakes, stumbles to her phone to find 3 voicemails, 5 missed calls, 2 emails and a text message. She notices that there is a big red X next to the email she sent at 7:30 a.m. saying she wasn't coming in. She calls the first number she recognizes and is greeted with WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD. Word is spread that Dani is, in fact, alive. And sick. And sleeping.

And so she went back to sleep.*

In other news, have you lost something? Have you wondered whatever happened to that ex or long lost friend? If so, get my office on the case. They will find what you are missing in less than 5 hours - guaranteed!**

*I didn't really go back to sleep. Unless you count the times I dozed off during my marathon Dexter sessions. So I had to watch 3 of them 2 times? I was sick!

**I have to say that I am very amazed at the lengths my coworkers went to find me and to make sure I was okay. I feel very appreciated. And stalked.

From Jersey Shore to Jersey at Our Door: The Day I Almost Killed My Husband and Got a Dog (Note: These Two Things Are Related)

Meet the newest edition to our family, Jersey:

I know you are wondering to yourself "WHAT? They just got a third cat! Are they nuts?* How did this happen?" Let me tell you, I am wondering the same thing. Here's a little tale for you kiddies as you warm yourselves by the fire:

It is about 8 pm Tuesday night and I receive a text from B who is at his part time job. It merely says:

dont kill me. I have a surprise.

If you are married, you will automatically know that no text or conversation that starts off with "dont kill me" will end well. Hell, all you single people should know that too. So a "conversation" ensues via text message:

Me: What kind of surprise? Why would I kill you? Is it a dog?

B: Maybe.

Me: Are you sure? I am sure you wouldn't make such a permanent decision without any input from me.

B: It was going to be a surprise but they have to do a home visit and drop it off.

Me: And you didn't think I should have any input into this?

B: I thought your input would be no.

B: You were supposed to come home and it would already be there and you would go awwww..

Okay, he is right. My input would have been NO. We just got a THIRD cat. A kitten to be exact. The older one hisses and growls at him regularly. Also, it wasn't a good day. I came home to find:

1. two ornaments off of the tree and strewn around the living room
2. one ornament completely crushed
3. my mail chewed up and strewn around the dining room
4. puke with a poinsettia leaf in it

This was before there was ever a mention of a dog. Meanwhile, during this texting? I discovered a cat (*ahem* Brad) ate my recipe for chocolate chip cookies and tossed some bread around the kitchen. I think we already have a dog. He is just pretending to be a cat.

So, yes, my input would have been no. And, yes, my husband knows me well. He knows that if he had brought a very cute puppy home, I would not have let it leave. But I wasn't going to let him know that. So when he texted me later after sending me a link to the puppy, I ignored him:

B: Did you find it?

Me: Yes.

B: And?

B: Am I still dead?

B: Ok. I am going to drive home slowly.

B: I am just circling the block now.

Eventually he came home and we discussed the new arrival. I was just glad he didn't try to bring home a beagle. He told me he knew better than to do that and, if he had got a beagle, he would have just kept driving with the beagle howling beside him in the car. We know each other so well. That is why we are in love.

That is also why he is still alive.

So here is Jersey.** She is a beautiful lab/sharpei mix with a bit of shepard in her. She has huge wrinkles on her head which may not show up in the photos but will probably get more prominent as she gets older.

She fell asleep next to B after being attacked by Chester and ignored by Mooch.

How could you not love that face?

*We are totally nuts. Did you have any doubts?

**No, we did not name her after the Jersey Shore show. It was entirely coincidental. Or fate. You decide.

***No, B did not get the idea of getting a dog from yesterday's post. That was entirely coincidental. Or totally planned by him. You decide.

Crime Watch Wednesday: The One Where I Am the Victim. Or the Perp?

Our Halloween night held more excitement than just passing out candy. While we were waiting for B's sister, brother-in-law and our nephew to come over for dinner and trick-or-treating, I noticed a police car pull around the corner, drive slowly up to the neighbor's house across the street and stop. Being ever mindful of B's constant need to know everything happening in the 'hood, I shouted out:

Me: The cops are at the old lady across the street's house!

B: What are they doing there?

Me: I don't know.

So I sat down on our couch in front of our big picture window and watched, trying to determine what was going on while petting Lil' B and giving the original B a blow-by-blow:

Me: She came to the door.

Me: She is letting him in.

Me: Only one cop.

Me: He is still in there.

Me: This is boring.

B joined me at the window and then we saw the neighbors next door to the old lady head over. B dropped to the floor like he was dodging bombs in Band of Brothers while exclaiming "Now they can only see YOU - the nosy one." Um, okay. Who wouldn't be nosy when there are cops at their neighbor's house? Also, B would be the first one to lecture me on why I did not find out what was going on when there were POLICE ON OUR STREET. This may have happened once or twice before.

The neighbors are only there for a few minutes before they walk back to their house. I conclude nothing is happening and this is really boring when my phone rings. Figuring it is my SIL, I head over there, pick it up to see "private number." The following conversation happens:

Me: Hello?

Voice: Is this Dani?

Me: Yes....

Voice: This is, um, Officer Somebody from, um, your town's, um, public safety department.

Voice: We, um, found a package belonging to you.

Voice: Um, if you tell me your address I will bring it over.

At this point in time I am thinking that it is my friend E playing a joke on me. He does that. Really, the guy sounded unsure of what he was saying and what he was saying was making absolutely no sense to me.

Me: If you have a package for me, wouldn't it say my address on it?*

Voice: Well, the thing is it is difficult to read your address.

Me: Where did you find this package?

Voice: One of our residents found it.

Ding! I swear a light bulb went off in my head.

Me: Are you at the resident's house right now? [said in a long drawn out horror movie kind of way]

Voice: Maybe?

Me: I AM RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET FROM YOU. I CAN SEE YOU RIGHT NOW.

Voice: Oh.

Me: I am coming over.

And so it came to be that my neighbor across the street had one of my packages delivered to her because the number for the address was one number off. Then she called the public safety department because she did not recognize my name and didn't know what the package contained.

And so I walked across the street, to be introduced to my neighbor whom I had never met before, gave the officer my complete name and birth date for HIS REPORT** and then carried my big box back home.

And so I heard the police officer tell another inquiring neighbor "Oh, nothing. Just a misdelivered box."

And how did the officer know where to find me to inquire about said box? MY PHONE NUMBER WAS WRITTEN RIGHT ON IT. Why my neighbor could not have just called me, I will never know. Also? Ten bucks says she forgets who I am by the time this happens again. This will surely happen again.

Victim or perp? You decide.

*You cannot dodge an attorney. We have a knack for stating and asking the obvious.

**Can you believe this did NOT show up in the town's crime watch chronicles? Now, techinically this wasn't a crime, but it is a little disheartening to read a story in the crime watch about a racoon stuck in the basement window that was freed with a dog catcher hook and released to the backyard shrubs and not this story. Come on! It could have a catchy title and everything:

Suspicious Package Forges New Friendship

A local resident found a unique way to meet her new neighbor. When a suspicious box arrived on her doorstep containing someone else's name but her address, the concerned woman called public safety. The responding officer, after confirming the box was harmless, called the phone number on the delivery sticker only to find that the phone was answered by someone right across the street! The neighbors were introduced and the box was returned to its rightful owner.

Damaged, Dodged, Deposed, Discussed a/k/a Things I Did Last Week

Last week flew by and I barely posted. This caused me to stop and think about what I did all week:

1. Totally wiped out my computer at work with some spyware.
2. Became the office joke for wiping out said computer ("maybe you shouldn't surf for PORN")
3. Tried to explain I was really just using an online translator ("yeah for the PORN")*
4. Tried to figure out how to work for the next three days without a computer (how does one answer emails, bill time, generate documents, and review what's been done previously on a file without a computer? It was like living in the dark ages - pen, paper and my brain only. I barely survived!)
5. Tried to avoid the sickness plague that took over our office. Seriously, they were dropping like flies. One day we had four people leave early while another 7 were already out. By Friday we were down to just a few. I did not stick around.
6. Spent four and a half hours in deps on Tuesday. No break. No lunch. VERY crabby!
7. Spent four hours in court on Friday. No break. No lunch. VERY VERY crabby!!
8. Took a deposition of a surgeon and watched my opponent attempt to rip him to shreds, only to ask him after the dep if he would treat him for his carpal tunnel.
9. Discussed Tiger Woods. A lot.
10. Came home to numerous boxes and packages on our porch. I love online Christmas shopping.
11. Thought about plans for exciting new things for the blog next year.**
12. Cleaned, straightened, grocery shopped, meal planned, and strategized for our housewarming/holiday party.***
13. Watched B put finishing touches on different parts of the house for said party.
14. Finally, got to sleep in on Saturday.

I expect this week to be less hectic with more posting. Let's see if it shakes out that way.

*Obviously, the most important thing in watching porn is being able to understand what is being said. Actions be damned - the dialogue is all that matters!

**Are you intrigued? Excited? Curious? Are you even paying attention???

***Party post to come soon although I ended up not taking a lot of pictures. Boo on me!

Of Course I Meant to Put That There...

B likes to think he is much more organized than I am. Having seen my magazine stash, and the messiness of my home office, you may agree. However, I typically can find anything I need. B, on the other hand, well...

B: Where is the cat brush?

Me: I don't know. Where did you put it?

B: Somewhere I wouldn't forget.

Me: Obviously.

Me: Check the shelf.

B: Not there.

Me: Check the drawer.

B: Not there.

Me: And you call me unorganized.

B: I could find if I needed to.

Me: Um, aren't you kind of needing to now?

B never did find the cat brush. I did. Know where I found it? On the floor of the spare room BEHIND a box BEHIND our entertainment center.

Clearly, somewhere he would not forget.

A Deal is Made and No One is The Wiser

No one was around when the stranger quietly approached me with an earnest look on her face:

Girl: Do you have any extra?

Me: I may have a few. How many do you need? One, two...?

I was hoping it wasn't more than that. I was very protective of my stash.

Girl: Just one.

Girl: I can't get my hands on any.

Me: What value do you have there?

Girl: Seventeen.

Me: I have just what you need.

Girl: Are you sure?

Me: Trust me.

With a slight flick of my wrist, a transfer was made. I commented about how it seemed so shady. We were whispering after all. She laughed heartily and said "I won't tell, if you don't."

I then steered my cart toward the bakeware while I pondered how many 20% off coupons I would need for my purchase.

Seriously Behind in the Garden Photos...

So let's remedy that, shall we? Here, for your viewing pleasure are more garden photos showing various flowers and plants that have bloomed over the past couple of months. Enjoy, so I can catch you all up to the current state of the garden and the yard:

*For those of you that might not know, we just moved into this house in January so all of the flowers that you see here and on other posts were planted by former owners and are a complete surprise to us as they bloom. We consider ourselves lucky that (a) we don't have to plant anything unless we really want to, and (b) they did a pretty good job in the variety of plants so that when one stops blooming another starts.