new colors, raw meat, and hot buns

"Well... that was confusing"

We got the family together yesterday to celebrate Wolfgang's birthday from earlier this month. The above quote was his greeting as he came in the door.  In fact, each of the guys admitted to troubles in arriving at our house.  

I guess we should've told them we just had the exterior of the house painted.  Looky!

Before 😒:

After 😁:

We hired a pro with excellent google reviews, and I'm happy with how it turned out.  It even feels like the house is preening a bit.  The body shade is called "Night Owl".  I don't know what the old color was called.  Old Mustard?  Chicken-gone-bad?  What-did-the-baby-eat?  Suffice to say I was not a fan of the old color or its fadedness.

I've mentioned that the home we bought last March, right on the cusp of pandemic lockdown, had been a rental for many years.  As such, it's needed some TLC, and we've been chipping away.  It could use some interior paint as well, and I'll tackle that task once we decide on colors.  Right now, EVERY wall in the house is the same color - probably named "Landlord White".

So yeah, we had a nice little get together for Wolfgang.  He suggested Korean BBQ, which was fun.  We ordered a pile of raw meat and things (it had a more formal name on the menu) and grilled  right there at our table.  Sizzlin' good time.

And speaking of sizzlin', I started using the all gender bathroom when I get to work since it accommodates one person at a time, and I like to clean up a bit after riding my bike in.  I learned it has a heated bidet.  Not only is the water warm, but the seat is also heated.  Seems fancy!  

But it's summer!  It's hot!  About the last thing I want to do after riding in to work is sit on anything heated.  Just, nooooooo!  

Other than that, it's quite nice.  Enough whining.

let's pretend it's science

I was at work today, and one of our rehabilitation residents had on a Colorado Buffaloes - a.k.a CU - sweatshirt.

"Hey, I like your sweatshirt!  Did you go to CU?", I asked the white-haired woman.

"Yes, I did", she deadpanned.

"I went there too, always nice to meet a fellow alum, particularly here where there're a lot of Ram fans", I continued (Fort Collins is home to the in-state rival university of CU).

"Oh?  When were you there?", she asked.

"I graduated in 1990", I answered.

"Ah.  I was there... before that", and we giggled a bit as I went about my non-college-degree-requiring job.

My young coworkers know that I also work as a tutor.  I've told them, "I'm here for the 401K", as I've extoled the virtues of pretax savings.  Most of them are not at all interested in socking away for retirement at their current stages of life.

Tutoring is contract work, so no bennies.  It's a nice side gig, but I've typically had another side gig job, like now, that offers a 401K or other pretax savings plan of some sort.  Not a whole lotta money, believe me, but I like to contribute a little plus have some occupation to balance the tuting.

Also today at work, our dishwasher went on the fritz.  Not the machine in the kitchen, but the human who loads and unloads the machine in the kitchen.  Through a series of unfortunate events, she had to leave, which left us dishwasherless for a couple hours.  Anxious times, I tellya.  

I gathered my wits and headed to the alien land that is the dishpit.  Told myself, "I'm a retired mechanical engineer, I should be able to figure out a feaking commercial dishwasher".

And I did.

I went to college.  And today, I washed dishes, thereby saving the day.  

Wait, what? 

when the go gos don't

The year was 1980-blah blah something.  My friend Ron and I had tickets to see the Go Gos live at the state fair.  The concert was outside, late afternoon/ evening, and we made our way to  the front.  We were in the PIT, with all our 80's big hair cohorts!

Red Rockers were the opening band, and they put on a good show.  They wrapped up and we awaited the Go Gos.  Honestly, I wasn't a huge fan, but Ron was, and I felt they would put on a fun concert, and we were SO CLOSE!

As we waited, it got a bit breezy.  Then it got full on windy, gusty even.  A few raindrops began to fall.  Then, lots more.  Lots lots more.  It began to epicly pour.  I seem to recall an announcement over the din of the storm that the concert would be delayed.

We waited in the rain, not wanting to give up our perfect location.  Eventually, people began to filter away to shelter.  Ron and I followed and waited in the grandstand.  From there, we could see what a mess the storm continued to make of the field/ mud bog.  After several minutes, the announcement came the the concert was canceled.  The electronics for the show weren't a good mix for all that water.

Ron and I walked back to the car soaked, muddied, shivered, and dejected from the concert that wasn't.  Did we ever get reimbursed?  I don't remember, I just wanted to see the Go Go's.  It's like a page is now missing from my history book.  I understand the Go Go's are still performing live concerts, but I prefer the see the 80's version.  Now would be a good time for a time-traveled Go Go's Vacation from the pandemic

And since we're going back in time, another artist I never saw in concert but would've liked to in the 80's is Michael Jackson.  Yeah, he got weird toward the end, and there are questionable accusations about  him and young kids... But he knew how to put on a show, and he was peaking in the 80's when I was in college and broke.  Maybe I'll learn to moonwalk during the pandemic?

And honestly, I haven't been to a live concert in so long.  Raising kids, paying college tuition, etc. put concert-going in the backseat.  More like in the trunk, really.  Now live concerts are postponed until...?

Last summer, Meego went to see John Bellion in concert, and I was all, "GASP, I love that song of his!"  Honestly, I didn't know of any other of his work at the time, but loved the one hit.  Not surprisingly, Meego said it was a great show and that JB really connected with the audience.

Another artist I would love to see live is Machine Gun Kelly, because I find him talented and strangely adorable, and I bet he puts on a good live show.  He was in Denver last year.  I missed it.  Those near-to-tears girls singing along in the audience?  Yeah, that's me on the inside.

On the outside, yes, I'm old enough to be his mom.

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Linking up this week with Mama Kat for the prompt:

2. List the top 5 musicians you would see in concert.

I know I listed just 4, and I'm not sure that they'd be the "top", but it's who came to mind on the fly, OKAY!

almost wordless wednesday

My face when I go to the bike shop because a lever on my bicycle is not moving and so the thing it controls is not activating and the technician pushes on the lever and suddenly everything works just fine and he says maybe it just had a kink in the cable but I think he says that to make me feel less silly and then he returns to the important repair job I interrupted and I also realize that I'm wearing a t-shirt from a different bike shop.

selling, scammers, and the healing powers of mud

Yeesh, these are supposed to be the lazy days of summer, and I've been busy neglecting the poor blog!

My tutor workload has nicely mellowed - a few nice students a week, no evenings, no weekends. 😊
But I am filling the days with other things.  Since our April (snow) showers brought May (snow) showers brought a buncha downed tree limbs brought June showers, I find myself doing a fair amount of yard work this summer, trying to keep the yard presentable.

In my continuing tidying efforts, I've been selling a few items off on craigslist.  I get a kick out of the scammers out there.  They don't fail me.  Within minutes of placing an ad on craigslist, I get inquiry texts from interested "buyers".  So here's your PSA for today:

•   If some stranger asks for a Google Voice Verification code to prove to THEM that YOU are not a scammer, THEY are a scammer.

I can usually spot them right off because they respond to ads shortly after the ads have been posted, the item for sale is usually named exactly as posted in the ad, and the English is not so good.  I like to humor them a bit before I block them.  Example, figure 1.

fig. 1

*sigh*  Eventually, they leave me alone, and the legit people come through.  

And craigslist hasn't been a one-way street this month.  Meego, still reeling a bit from his broken heart, has done some shopping therapy and found a sweet new-to-him, full suspension mountain bike, plu$ a few acce$$orie$ and shop adju$tment$.   Good thing he works a lot of hours in the summer.  He got it out to the hills last weekend, and this showed up in my instagram.

Well, y'know what they say, "best way to get over a man is to get under another one"

OOPS, wait.  Wrong scenario.  

I meant to say,  "best way to get over a girl is to get off  Snapchat and get on a new bicycle".

hair we go

Meego made an impromptu visit this last weekend.  There is a bus route that runs specifically from his school to here with a changeover in Denver.  We'd been meaning to check it out, and he texted that he'd give it a go.

While here, he asked for a haircut. He'd let his hair get quite long - I can't remember the last haircut he had.  It didn't look too bad, but I guess he decided he was done with that for now, and asked to "go back to the old ways".  Less maintenance.

That dark fur blob on the floor?  No, it's not a new pet.  It's the volume of hair I removed from his head.

I see that Prince Harry now has a baby son.  Well, we had a hairy son...









Students are in the final weeks of school/ fall semester, and I feel ready for a lull.  Right now, it's a rush of prepping for final exams, EOC assessments, and the June SAT.  I know my tutees are ready for a break too.  Hang in there!

The range of students' motivation and work ethics interests me.  Some are super motivated and want lots of practice. Others take more prodding and parental pushing.  Then there are those who, I think, just want me to do their homework for them.

Speaking of cheating... Anyone catch the Kentucky Derby on Saturday?  Honestly, I don't generally follow sports, but I enjoy horse racing - because it's over and done with in so little time, and I think horses are just beautiful to watch when they're running full out.

The original winner, Maximum Security, was DQ'd for straying from his lane and impeding some horses behind him.   His win was overturned and the second place horse, Country House, was declared the official winner.

Racehorses have such unique names.  Maybe in a timely fashion, Maximum Security should have a name more like "College Admission" or "Crew Team"?

of men and dry erase markers

We sat there, chatting, wondering what the strange impromptu meeting was about as others of our kind filtered into the room.  Eventually, all were present and the mystery would unfold.

Years ago, after college and before kids, I was an engineer at a large corporation in upstate New York.  At the time of the mystery meeting, I was working at a site that was specifically built for our team that was developing a family of new products.  There were about 100 to 120 of us there. 

This new facility was a "showcase" for the time.  The layout and design of upper management offices, cubicle areas, laboratories, etc. were well thought out.  Technically, we had plenty of the latest tools at our disposal. 

Another nice feature was whiteboards whiteboards whiteboards.  Everyone had a whiteboard in his/her cubicle.  There were whiteboards in the break areas.  Conference rooms had floor-to-ceiling whiteboard walls.  There were even whiteboards in all of the bathrooms... *dun dun duuuuhhhhn*

It was a nice assignment, morale was high, we were getting stuff done.  So it was strange, that morning, to have been beckoned by the chief engineer to this meeting of unspecified topic. The strangest part was - it was a meeting of only the womenfolk of the facility. 

There we sat in the cafe area, about 30 or so of us.  Our chief engineer was a friendly, very approachable guy.  He didn't waste time with small talk and seemed rather somber as he began to speak. 

He'd called us together that morning because he'd received complaint.  Or rather, he'd received word from his boss about a complaint from within our team. 

One of the women complained to higher ups about whiteboards in the men's bathrooms, so he was going to have all bathroom whiteboards removed.

"The whiteboards in the men's bathrooms enable the men to have secret meetings where women aren't allowed".

In my mind...

SOURCE

OMG, what?

The looks on the other faces mirrored what I was thinking.  My friend Jill, an electrical engineer sitting next to me, began to snort/gag/choke/ laugh as she was sipping a coffee when the explanation for the meeting was revealed.  

Many began to protest and explain that we didn't feel that way at all.  I, for one, got along great with my male coworkers - many of whom I'm still in touch with today.  This was silly and absurd.  Plus... we kinda liked having whiteboards in the bathrooms.  For one, it was an easy way to let maintenance know when something wasn't working.

Besides, if some guys want to have a secret meeting in a men's bathroom, the non-presence of a whiteboard wasn't gonna stop it!

Chief engineer quelled our protestations.  In part, we realized, because the complainer was sitting there among us, whoever she was!  Even he didn't know who had lodged the complaint.  He went on to say that he hoped that, if any of us had an issue with anything regarding our team or facilities, etc., that we feel free to speak with him about it.  Like I say, he was a real laid back, approachable guy.  He wore Buddha beads for heaven sake!

And that's how we lost our bathroom whiteboards.  

And of course all the men learned of it quickly because obviously they asked us why there was a women-only meeting, and we straight up told them.  It became a sort of running joke at the place, but not too blatant, because she-who-remained-unnamed could be listening.

A few years later, when we'd decided I would "retire" and become a stay-at-home mom, many coworkers understood and wished me well.  However, one (single) woman (with no kids) came and asked why?  Why didn't  I just take an extended leave?  She subtly tried to talk me out of leaving for good.

She became my prime suspect for Whiteboard Woman.  But it remains a true mystery to this day.

--------------------------------------------

Linking up with Mama Kat for the prompt:

1. A memorable day at work

the lost boys

We picked up Meego for winter break from college last Friday.  He'd moved to a new dorm just the weekend before, and for that, I'm grateful.

One of Meego's good friends from high school also attends this university.  They'd tried to room together, but didn't get all their info in on time apparently.  But no biggie, they still hang out.  The university has an app that's "kinda like Tinder" where incoming freshmen can peruse profiles and find compatible roommates and get to know each other a little ahead of time.  Seems like a good thing, in theory.

So Meego found a roommate through the app. We met him on move-in day, and he seemed like a nice enough guy.  And he does have some good traits... but those traits are all fuzzed because of the copious amounts of drugs the dude uses.

It's sad really.  Meego says he'd start smoking weed first thing after waking up in the morning, and he's clearly addicted to JUUL pods.  In the short time Meego's known him, the roommate's done Molly, mushrooms, and cocaine, along with weed and booze and who-knows-what-else.  He says he won't do PCP. Well, nice to know the kid has discriminating tastes.

When we met the kid on move in day, he came across as outgoing and friendly, excited to be in college.  I'd say he had "the look" of a potential partyer, but a good portion of college kids have that look.  Meego says there were times when people would come into the room and roommate would just be staring into space with his mouth open, oblivious to others in the room.

Meanwhile, Meego's HS friend was in a 4-bed suite.  One of the 4 messed himself up by mixing alcohol and Xanax.  Twice.  He was sent packing after the second strike, another sad story.

But hey, there's a silver lining.  Meego and HS buddy and HS buddy's remaining suitemates started thinking about Meego moving out of the drug den an into the vacated 4th bed.  Meego was dealing with the situation pretty well, but still, Magnum and I were all, "Hell yeah, see what you gotta do".

So they made it happen.  I thought the university would just wait until the start of next semester, but they moved Meego a week before the break, and we picked him up from the new digs.  Not only does Meego have better roommates, it's just a nicer dorm - newer and nicer facilities.

This helped to not hurt druggie roommate's feelings.

Meego:  So my friend's got a vacancy in his suite, and I'm gonna move into it.
Drug dude:  Oh, cool.  Yeah, that's a nicer dorm
Meego:  Yah...

Meego let the ex-roomie keep the (our) dorm fridge and microwave since he would otherwise have to go without.  The ex will supposedly pay Meego for them, but I'm not going to hold my breath.  I think the whole thing has Meego appreciating where he is now


Got any "interesting" dorm / roommate experiences to share?

terror on the doorstep

A pleasant bug man came a-knocking a few nights ago.  He gave me the old, "Hi, I'm here in the neighborhood killing bugs over at Vic's house, and I can give you a deal to kill your bugs too since I'm already here 😁" bit.

And I was thinking, "What makes him think we have bugs?"

Actually.  No.  I did not think that.  It's obvious, especially from where he was standing.  Our front porch...

Let's get a close-up, shall we?  Of one of the many spiderwebs full of bounty that adorn the front door.

I spray them. With water.  I spray them goooooood.  I spray them because they are so strong, a broom doesn't really hack it.  I spray them on full hose pressure with the nozzle set on JET.

The spiders laugh at me and rebuild within a day or so.

No, I didn't take the bugman up on his offer, mainly because I don't give in to sales people who come a-knocking.  But... should I have pest control come?  What all do their materials do, anyway?  Bugman says he can kill existing bugs and repel future wannabes.

I've pondered this before, when my spraying can't match the spidery zeal.  Wolfgang was my voice of reason last summer.

"They're doing you a favor."

"How's that?"

"See all the bugs they catch in their webs?  If it weren't for the spiderwebs, those bugs would be inside the house."  

So that can be my excuse.  Our front porch spiderwebs are not unsightly, unwelcoming, creepy things.  

They are the moat to our castle.  

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Linking up with Mama Kat this week for the prompt:

2. Write a blog post inspired by the word: dirty

yewpee five oh too

Happy Thanksgiving, blog people! I will mention here that I am not one of those who refer to this holiday as "Turkey Day", and I have been known to inwardly judge harshly those who do, given my mood.

BUT it is a good reason for a Turkey Trot, and I managed to make it to the annual 5K event in my neck of the woods.  I hadn't turkey trotted in 3 years, so it was fun to get back into the fray.

It was a perfect morning for it. Sunny in the mid 40s, no real wind.  After a lovely rendition of the National Anthem, we were off.  Since it is such a popular race, we started in waves and I put myself in the second wave.

I'd been feeling a bit sluggish just before the race, but once the starter said "go", I got a surge of energy and moved to the front of my even more sluggish wave.

I eventually passed the 5-guys-dressed-up-like-a-school-bus that I'd had as my first target and was onto the next thing.

Shortly after the turnaround, I noticed some animated people in the corner of my left eye.  I turned to see Wolfgang and his three buddies, who must've arrived a bit late and started in one of the waves behind mine.  I was about to call out to them, but realized my lungs were  quite preoccupied, struggling to keep me alive.

So instead, I meandered over and gave Wolfgang a Ben-Hur-chariot-race elbowing.

Once he realized who the weirdo was, he sped up because no son wants to have his mom cross the finish line ahead of him in a Turkey Trot, late wave or no.

I made it to the finish, feeling I'd run a decent race.  I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure that some dude was doubled over and actively vomiting right after finishing a few seconds ahead of me.  I kept on running for a little while...

I hung out in the aftermath and got a very nice freebie water bottle, which I actually was in need of.  Some people began to post race results near where I was standing, so I figured I'd try to find myself.  I'd been shooting for a sub 24:00 but didn't time myself, plus I was wondering how I'd done against the other old ladies. But I couldn't find myself anywhere in the results.

But then... there I was:  "UnknownParticipant502"

WHAAAAT??

An official looking person (official looking because she had a bullhorn) told me that the "roster system" had gone down from some accident, so some of us didn't roll up.  She thought it would eventually update, but didn't seem real concerned.  So for now, this is me

It seems there were 74 of us thrown into the Unknown Participant bucket.  No age, no home, but strangely, we are all male.  

I won't hold my breath waiting to become a Turkey Trot somebody.  I did have Magnum snap a pic of me, making #502 a little less unknown.

And that's a turkey wrap of this race report.

xoxo
UP502

_______________________________________

Linking up with MamaKat this week
6. Write a blog post inspired by the word: accident.

at least it wasn't a pizza

Last weekend, I ordered a pair of shooz from Brooks.  They were shipped via FedEx and arrived on Wednesday:

See the cat back there?  Yes, he's laughing.

I'm curious what the FedEx driver thought as he plopped placed the crumpled package on our porch.

"How embarrassing, this package is all smashed up...", or

"Is it 4:20 yet??"

I think the shooz were adequately packaged from the Brooks end.  A thick cardboard box secured the inner box that secured the shooz.  Works for me.

Thankfully, these were just shooz, meant to take a bit of a beating, so the actual product was unharmed.  

On Tuesday, I ordered a book I needed for a tutee.  It was shipped via FedEx and guaranteed to arrive by yesterday.

It is now today. This is what has arrived.  

Actually, I have no image available because the book is floating around out there somewhere nowhere near me.

Thankfully, the bookstore located about a mile from our house had copies of the book, so I was able to get it in time for tuting, just not at the lower online price.    If and when the original order arrives, I'll have the pleasure of returning it because I needed it Thursday and we have now entered Friday and beyond.

Meego was home when the shooz arrived and I brought in the crumpled box.  He laughed even a bit louder than the cat did as I just stood perplexedly staring.  

He wasn't really surprised, and asked, "Haven't you seen that youtube video about FedEx?"  

But yesterday, we got a little ray of sunshine.  A cute little intact package arrived, this time for Wolfgang:

No dings, no dents, no crumples.  I believe it's a raspberry pi.  Even well in time for pi day. Delivered via UPS.

I'm wondering if FedEx drivers are sabotageful UPS drivers in disguise?

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Linking up with Mama Kat for the prompt:
1. Something that made you smile this week.

sharing a pint

I remember him sitting there.  George.  He was kicked back, all relaxed looking.  We'd just gotten off work and were hanging out after having discussed our sexual and drug habits...

"You know you live a boring life when you're allowed to donate blood", said George.

"Yup, I suppose so", my reply as blood drained from our veins.

Many years ago, I made a New Year's resolution to donate blood at least three times a year.  It was easy.  The blood letters came by regularly to our workplace.  We could just stop in after work before heading home.

Then I started having babies and breastfeeding babies and being busy with babies.  The blood donating tapered off.  I remember the last time was during a Halloween party at the elementary school where Chaco and Wolfgang were in attendance.  Good idea- blood drive at a Halloween party!  Had to hand it to 'em.

Anyway, that was quite a few years ago.  I just got out of the habit.  There was a blood drive at the university on Tuesday, so I decided to see if I was still boring enough.

Yup.

I found it actually quite relaxing, just as I remember.  And the staff is always so friendly and appreciative.  Plus, free snacks after!  I sat down to begin, across from this kid - likely an undergrad.  It occurred to me that a blood drive is probably a good place for single people to meet "safe" potential mates, much like George had alluded to.

Anyway, the guy was sitting there and he had a wet cloth draped over his forehead and there was a box fan blowing directly upon him.  Maybe he'd gotten a little woozy?  I learned he was doing the "big boy" procedure where the machine draws out two pints instead of one, separates out the plasma, then gives the rest back.

No thanks, I just did the one-way procedure.

He noticed that the blood people were wearing either blue, green, or burgundy scrubs and asked, "Do the colors of your scrubs mean anything in particular?"

"You bet it does!", replied my nurse, "It means these are the colors we each picked out of the closet today!"

Look at at that, dinner AND a show!

Then yesterday, I was about three miles from home when I guess Bella felt sympathetic or something.  I heard this click-click-clicking coming from her front tire and looked down to see something going round and round.  It looked shiny.  It looked metallic.  I was really hoping it was just a rock caught between treads, but the logical part of my brain told me it was something sharp and man-made.

Crap.

I contemplated stopping to inspect, but instead chose to pedal like a bat outta hell to see if the LITTLE PRICK would stay in so as to keep the air loss at a minimum and allow me to make it home before things got all squishy.

Happily, that strategy worked without a minute to spare.

Here's the thing before I carefully surgically removed it all psssssssshhhhhhhh...

I think it's a screw for holding on a license plate.

Yet another evil "Car vs. Bike" story!

.

maid raid!

I walked into the hotel, and immediately felt that something. Just. Wasn't.  Riiiight.  It was too quiet?  Something...?

This was back in time, like mid 1980s.  I was working as a desk agent at a hotel in Denver.  I typically worked second shift which started at 3:00 pm and went until 11:00 pm, so we mainly checked the guests in and made them all comfy cozy in their temporary homes.

So I get to work and there's all this Heavy Heavy in the air, but at the same time, it was all very Hush Hush.  Then I see that nearly all of the rooms are showing as not clean, and I'm all, "Why hasn't the housekeeping report been done?"

Well...

Actually, the housekeeping report, such as it was, had been done.  We were just very very low on housekeeping staff that day.  Eventually - since it was all so Hush Hush - my deskmates and I were filled in.

There was an INS raid at the hotel that day.  INS was the Immigration and Naturalization Service back then, currently known as U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services.  So, yeah.

So, at first we were all, "*GASP*, they hauled in our housekeepers?!"

But, NO!  The plot thickened.

See, our housekeeping department was managed by this assistant manager, Richard.  And no, I'm not using a euphemism for a more blunt term, his name was really Richard.

And apparently, Richard had some connections with - who knows - someone who could get undocumented workers on the cheap.  Now, this was news to us, but recall that this was back before 9/11, so undocumented workers weren't all that uncommon around here.  Most of them were from Mexico.

So my fellow desk workers - C and D (really) - and I were feeling bad for the housekeepers, who we did not know were illegal, thinking they'd been hauled off the hoosegow before their deportation.  But no.  It just.  So.  Happened. that most of housekeeping COINCIDENTALLY called in sick that day...

Apparently Richard had another friend who was actually part of INS.  The FRIEND gave Richard the heads up about what was going to go down at the hotel, so Richard got the word out in time.  INS showed up all, "RAAAIIIIID!" only to find a few U.S. citizens cleaning rooms.  Very few, thanks to the housekeeper flu or whatever.

So when we showed up at 3:00, there weren't a whole lotta rooms to rent out, and we were all "*frick*, what we gonna do about all these reservations?!"

We tag teamed,  making sure someone was at the desk at all times, while whoever was able - desk agents, maintenance guys, managers - went and prepped rooms.

The next day?  Everything was back to "normal".  Housekeeping was fully staffed.  Richard was Richard.  Rooms were cleaned.  Business as usual.

And to this day, I can fold a toilet paper point like nobody's business.

----------------------------------------------------------------
 In response to SR300 regarding my housekeeping training and...
For Mama Kat's prompt
5. A memorable day at work.

the frito banditos

Last week, Magnum was in Mexico for a few days for work.  While we were here, dealing with snow and subfreezing windchills, Magnum was in sunny, warm Mexico.  PFFFttt.

So he calls and talks about how sunny, how warm, how blah blah blah....  Yes, how nice.  *snark*

I went off to bed with my wool blanket.

Next morning, I turned on my phone and it quickly spills out a series of text messages.

"Our van was broken into..."
"Stole all the laptops..."
.
.
.

Followed by a list of tasks for ME.  Change passwords, block online access, identity protection plans...  Oh, caca, hay chihuahua.

Oh, and also, could I meet him at the airport on Friday because he doesn't have a key for the Civic.  Anymore.

Well, I could meet him if he cared to wait around for a coupla hours.  But then Chaco volunteered for key dropoff duty.  All in all, it could've been worse.  And he still got all that sunshine and Corona.  And Karma will get the banditos.

.

what should we name him?

Okay.  You guys...

*I'm whispering here, can you tell?*

You guys.  I'm here like a prisoner in my own house right now.  I just have this feeling that I'm being watched, but I don't know where the watcher is.  It's giving me the heebie jeebies.

I keep turning in different directions to look, but at the same time, I'm hoping to not see anything.  I'm watching my every step.  Every little peep of noise makes me jump.  It's hell I tellya!

It started this morning.  Or last night.  I don't know.

The cat was out all night.  It's just what he needs to do, I suppose.  He's got to go out and sow his predatory oats.  And that's fine, the gophers and mice will make more.

So this morning, when I got up, I looked and found him in the backyard.  Certainly after another night of carnage, he was ready to return to the civilized life.

I flicked on the light.
He turned from his crouched position and saw me.
It was his crouched position he assumes when he toys with a mouse before playing with it to death.
But he turned and saw me and decided to end the playtime and come on in.

or so I believed...

He came on in and headed downstairs.  I went down a minute or so later

to find him playing with a much uninvited guest.  The freaking mouse.  He brought the darn thing in with him!  It was still alive.  They're playing Tom and Jerry in mah house!

Oh feck.

I know what you're thinking.  It's my fault.  I'm the one who opened that door all widely and welcoming!  I'm the enabler!  To that I say:

It was dark!
I wasn't wearing my glasses!
Napolion's face (I've since realized) is the exact color of mouse!  Or vice versa!

So here we are.  I figured Napolion would play with that mouse until the mouse had no more play left in him - the usual shenanigans.  I didn't care to watch it, knowing I'd be responsible for corpse removal.  So I cowardly left the room, and returned later.

There's no corpse.  No trace at all.  No juicy gut pile.  No discarded tail.  Nothing.  It's a mystery.

Did Mouse survive?  Is he watching me as I type?  Waiting to exact revenge? If not, where is the body?!?  If so, where is the body?!?  If the mouse is dead, will he haunt our house forever??

There's only one who holds the answer.  And he's not talking.

At least it's a mouse and not one of those monstrous gophers.

But still...

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hair of the dog

Had the morning off from class, our instructors declaring a "lab day" since we've got some projects to finish up.  I took advantage of it by declaring it a make-your-dog-look-like-a-lab day, and took China to the groomers.  She's been nagging me for a haircut, the bushy fur coat is not a good thing now that the temperatures have gotten more friendly.

And personally, the vacuum cleaner and I are tired of the shedding.

Look!  So happy!

"I'm sexy and I know it... know it... know it..."

It was a good day for it.  Sun was shining with more promise of spring.  I planned to take a bike ride under the clever disguise of running an errand or two.  

No sooner had I brought the freshly shorn China home that the skies clouded up and the temperature began to drop.  And then... and then... and.... then....

Yeah.          That's me  ^.                  

and just like that...

...he's gone.  Gone!  Just disappeared into thin... water!

My plecostomus, Jansen.  He's swum the coop!

First, a little background:  A few months ago, the mysterious apocalarium happened.  Recall that I introduced a few new fish into the fold, and then one.  by.  one.  all but one of the previously residing tankmates went on to fish heaven in the course of about a week.  This left just two newbies and one strangely hardy old timer.  This also coincided with a strange flourish of plant health.

I studied up, made a few adjustments, and slowly brought the tank back to a state of, I think,  normal existence.  Since my previous plecostomus, Hot Lips, died in the apocalypse, a noticeable algae problem came about in his absence.

So I went ahead and brought in Jansen.  And Jansen went right to work, cleaning up like nobody's business.  He also managed to stay alive.  For quite a while, actually.

A week ago or so, I noticed my sunken temple, among other things,  was becoming quite green with algae.  Jansen was usually pretty good about cleaning my sunken temple, so what was up with all this algae?

Devil Fish of Algae Town

I've been looking for Jansen ever since.  There is absolutely no trace of him whatsoever.  No carcass, no nothing.  Just lots of algae.  And mystery.  I think it's the Devil Fish of (now) Algae Town.  They've done something with Jansen.

In the meantime...

If anyone's seen him or his  *GULP*  remains, please lemme know.  We need closure.

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dirty pictures

I read a story this morning about a woman who was sickened when she found out that photos she'd posted on her blog had ended up on some suspected pedophile site.  The photos were of her bottomless toddler boys engrossed in potty training.  Emphasis on gross.

I honestly don't have a whole lot of sympathy for her because (1) it's the internet, (2) I don't care to watch kids (or anyone else) taking care of their personal bodily functions and don't find such photos "cute", (3) it's the internet, (4) there are sickos out there who will be all over pics of bottomless toddlers, and (5) it's the internet!  If someone wants photos to be seen by only a select few, they don't post them where the entire developed world has access to them.

As I read, I learned a few things.  I learned that I could search my own photos by simply dragging them to the search box in google images.  Did you know that??  I didn't know until reading about the potty trainer.

Out of curiosity, I did a spot check of a few photos.  Thankfully, my blog was the only place they showed up.  Interestingly, the search also calls up "visually similar images".  Allow me to share some of my results:

My image 1

visually similar image 1

How so very flattering.

My image 2

Visutally similar image 2

It's Brittany, Bitch!

My image 3

Visually similar image 3

Okay, this match is shockingly accurate.

Have you googled yourself lately?  It's not a sin, it's only natural and healthy.
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bad poetry

Jack be nimble,

Jack be quick,

Abby not so much

Something's gone wrong in my foot.  My left foot.  It's not running.  Consequently, the right foot isn't running either.  Bummer.

There's no defining moment of injury that I can tie down.  I have no exciting adventure tale to tell about how it is that something's gone wrong in my foot.  I also don't really know what the injury is.  I did a little surfing online and I've ruled out a metatarsal sprain, but it's possible I have only a week or so to live...

A few weeks ago, I had a little tinge - you know those tinges - of pain on the top of my foot near the toes, but nothing of note.  Then, it was exactly two weeks ago today.  I was out for a run in the morning and the foot was whining.  Made me stop. 

I think I was sabotaged by those dang mail order shoes, remember them?!  They arrived all wrong and I sent them back for a second chance?  I don't think they agreed with my feet.  They are shoes of the devil!  I stopped wearing them a week ago.

So here I am, still in watch-and-wait mode.  I can walk okay and ride the bike and drive the manual-transmission car, it's just running that is a no no. 

And I miss it oh so much  *sniff*.

It's not just the physical exertion I miss.  In fact, I'm filling the time with more biking and boxing than I normally do (seriously, I'm so sore from boxing right now, and I'm not even getting hit!).  But I miss being out in the early morning hours with the other early morning runners.  This is such a nice time of year for that, and I paid my cold, dark dues through the winter damnit!

But I guess I can wait a little longer.

The thing that bugs me though - makes me a little nervous actually - is just not being able to run.  One of the reasons I run aside from "it's fun", is that I just like knowing that I  CAN.  I mean, one never knows when an emergency type situation might arise and running would sure come in handy!

I like knowing that I CAN run relatively far and/or run relatively fast if I ever need to (crossing guard... hello...).  I'm a prepper, what can I say?

Good ju-ju for the foot.  I'm taking donations.
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joined at the feet

I will probably never meet her, but I think of her as being very similar to me. 

Somewhere out there is a woman who likes taking walks, maybe she's still stroller-pushing age.  Or she could be take-the-grandkids-to-the-park age.  Maybe she's also got a pooch.  She could be a couple of time zones away from me, or she could be right around the corner. 

Somewhere out there is a woman with whom I'm forever bonded.  We share a unique connection.  I started thinking about her yesterday.

Somewhere out there is a woman who, one day last week, placed an order online.  She anxiously anticipated its arrival.  She got the usual e-mail notices:  "it's shipped!" and then there were tracking links - how it had arrived at such and such a warehouse, how it departed such and such a warehouse.  She could watch its progress in her mind, making its way to her.

I was home when my package arrived.  I set the package down here on my giga desk, rubbed my hands together, and removed the seal.  Ah, the fun of mail order!

I opened the box and pulled out one fresh new walking shoe for my left foot, ready for action.  I reached in and pulled out the other fresh new walking shoe for my left foot....

"What the....?"

Wolfgang looked at me, seeing the perplexed look on my face as I gradually came to understand that I was holding two left shoes. 

I looked at my feet.  Yep, still one right and one left. 

Uhm.... yeah.  So amazondotcom sent me a label to return them at no charge (ya think?) and are hopefully sending an order, this time with one left shoe and one right.  As I was live chatting with customer service, I couldn't help but notice that my new left shoes had been packed and shipped on Friday.  4/20.  Hmm... perhaps there was a little celebration of the "holiday" going on in the warehouse?

Somewhere out there is a woman, who probably received her package around the same time I received mine.  She opened the box, already thinking about her next walk with the pooch/husband/baby/grandkids, only to find that she had two right shoes that were... wrong.

Somewhere out there is my sole mate.
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