Oh, my stars and garters!

What I have been waiting for

Ain't that purty?  You did it, little morning glory seed!

Furthermore, my obnoxious work schedule has ended, leaving me free to do stuff like run errands and hang out with friends. My sister and I spent eight hours together today instead of the usual quick cup of coffee and a cigarette if time permits sort of hanging out we'd been settling for the past few months.

Also, barring some sort of disaster, we'll close on a house at the end of June. A yellow house. A yellow house with room for friends and projects, and maybe a puppy and a kitten, because Stinky needs more friends.

Click the link below to see the amazing (to me, anyway) progress of the morning glory.

Splendid

It's raining again, hard, and the bedroom ceiling just started leaking.

You know, I didn't realize it until last fall, but all I ever wanted out of this life was to never have to talk to my awful landlady ever again. I guess dreams just don't come true.

I wonder how hard she's going to fight us on something that, if left unchecked, will ultimately cause her ceiling to cave in? If I didn't think the water might eventually mess up our health and my stuff, I'd be tempted to save myself the aggravation of calling her and just let it rot.

I make flower

March 7

May 27

(I was going to wait until it unfurled completely to show you, but I guess it got tired because it shriveled up some a few hours later. Oh, well. I'm still excited.)

The early bird catches my undying contempt

Kind of a wild night at work, so when we finally got off we went to one of the few places that serves booze in the morning. When I drove home a little while ago, I was struck by how many people were already going about their business all wide-eyed and fresh at nine in the morning on a rainy Saturday. Jesus, people, nothing good ever happens before at least 11! Go back to bed! I know I'm going to.

How you know it's been a long night, plus a music review

I drove to work listening to "All Things Considered" and left to "Morning Edition." I prefer the brisk brass of the former's intro music to the wimpily upbeat jazz guitar of the latter.

The story of the busy boring beaver

Too much to do, none of it very interesting to write about. You know how it is.

Enter the nematodes

We thought we had gotten out ahead of the flea thing this year. We treated both cats when it started to warm up in March and then again a few weeks ago after all the rain. So when we saw a few fleas here and there around the house, we figured they were just a few stragglers. All cats have some fleas, right?

That's pretty cute, huh? We're so adorable when we're naive.

I have learned there is nothing to make you feel like a classy lady like a delicate ring of tiny, itchy red sores around your ankles, nothing to make you feel important and special like walking onto a rug and having a hundred little creatures jump up in glee. The only thing that even comes close is sitting on the sofa next to your loved one, dreamily picking parasites off your cat and crushing them to death with your fingernails while you talk over the day's events. A flea infestation is a very special time in a girl's life, you know.

It was getting bad pretty fast, so today we took action. We rolled up all the rugs and stored them in the back of the truck while we figure out the best way to clean them. We are in the process of washing every piece of cloth in the house in scalding hot water. We brushed the cat. We're going to borrow a vacuum cleaner from someone (anyone? we promise to replace the bag) to suck out the couch.

And then, after I got home from work tonight, I unleashed our secret weapon on the yard: beneficial nematodes.

My half-assed research today revealed that nematodes are microscopic worms. My research also revealed that "nematodes" is incredibly fun to say out loud. Nematodes. Neeeematodes!

Most are parasitic and will do horrible things like give you trichinosis, but there are a few species that don't care about anything but hanging out on your lawn and eating fire ant and flea larvae. We got that kind; I don't think they sell the trichinosis ones at the pet store anyhow.

You soak the nematode dirt (see above) in water and filter it out until you have a muddy, disgusting worm solution. Then you spray it all over your lawn (or if you're me, you spray it all over half your lawn until the hose gets all kinked up and caught on the gatepost and the sprayer starts leaking all over your feet and since you are temporarily unable to spray nematodes, you settle instead for spewing obscenities and then stop, sheepish, hoping yet again that your neighbors didn't hear you, and, if they did, that they don't think you're really that psychotic, and then you get the hose untangled and blush a lot while you finish the rest of the yard in your sopping, muddy shoes).

Anyway, you do that, and if all goes well, in a few days the nematodes will settle in and launch the Great Flea Massacre of aught-seven. While you wait, it's fun to sit on the porch with a beer and look out fondly at the microscopic worm kingdom you've just created. Godspeed, little nematodes. Never forget you are a force for light and truth and all that is good in the world.

Seriously, this better work because I don't know what the next step is. Foggers? Setting the house on fire? This really blows.

What not to buy

 

Yeah, I know. Sesame and seaweed rice chips most likely equals a big bag of bleah. But I was at the store and wanted a salty snack, and it seemed like these could go either way. I figured the odds were good they'd have that viciously bland, healthful grain taste. But I like sesame seeds and I like seaweed, so I thought there was a decent chance they'd have a nice, clean, savory flavor instead.

Imagine my surprise when they tasted almost exactly like Cool Ranch Doritos, which are mildly disgusting and can be had at a third of the price.

I am not outraged; there are far worse things in life than being disappointed by overpriced faux-hippie snack chips. I just thought you should know, is all.

Super Duper Doodle

Are you having fun?

Well, are you?

How about now?

Ok, but what about now? Are you having fun now?

.5(ass)

Stinky does not appear to have heartworms: Yay. Stinky was so pissed off about being taken to get x-rays that he took out his displeasure by immediately running out and killing a songbird: Boo.

I know you're really supposed to keep cats inside to prevent these kinds of things, but the genie's out of the bottle (the cat's out of the bag?) on this one. I have neither the heart nor the eardrums to convert Stinky into an indoor cat. Plus he acts like the litter box is his personal no-fly-zone. I'll live with the loss of the occasional sparrow if that means the walls aren't crystalline with cat urine.

Also, Stinky seems really needy and restless and pitiful since Wallace has been gone. I don't know what they know, exactly, but they know.

There's some non-cat-related stuff going on too, but maybe I'll go into that later. Or maybe not. Oh, hey, I got new shoes. Also I hate mosquitoes. I hope you won't be offended by my bold statement; I know most people love them.

And on

Thanks to everyone who wrote or said nice things about Wallace. Eric and I feel a little better now. I just wish Stinky would stop looking all around the house and crying bleakly because then we want to do it, too.

I had two days off for the first time in a month this weekend. I didn't do much with it: went out to eat, took some photos, hung out with friends, drank beer, did laundry. Nursed a nascent cold and worried about house stuff.

I mean, it'll nice to have a house and all, but wouldn't it be way more fun to quit our jobs, store all our stuff, and live out of Eric's truck as we travel the country? We could turn the jumpseat into a cage for Stinky and he could ride around with us, poking his little head out into the wind as we drove down the shining open road, taking things as they came, etc., etc. We could grow thin and weird on Diet Red Bull and beef jerky and strike up desultory conversations at rest stops. I could make pipe pokers out of coat hangers and Sculpey and try to sell them at music festivals.

We could...ah, hell. It's almost too late now anyway. I'll console myself with the thought that I can convert the bathroom into a part-time darkroom. Stacks and stacks of grainy, overexposed photos for all my friends!

Bye, buddy.

                                                                                 photo by Eric

It's been a sad day. Wallace died very suddenly and unexpectedly this afternoon.

We took him in for a kitty autopsy, and the vet said it was heartworms. She said there wasn't much we could have done. Sometimes there are no symptoms except, well, death.

And it's true; aside from horking up the occasional hairball, he seemed fat and happy and fine. He certainly seemed fine this morning as he ran around the house and climbed the screen door to get a glimpse of Stinky out on the porch. (I've never seen a cat with such a crush.)

We are amazed at how empty the place seems minus one small creature who spent so much of his time hiding anyway. Although lately he hadn't been hiding quite so much. In fact, the hardest part about this is that it seemed like he was starting to really trust us, like he might actually want to be our cat.

Right before I went to bed this morning, I held my hand out to him. Instead of quailing and backpedaling and falling off the table in an attempt to flee as he had a hundred times before, he leaned forward and sniffed and just barely touched me with his nose. Then he jumped down and sauntered away like it was no big deal. That's so cool, I thought, and went to bed. Eric woke me up a few hours later to tell me he was gone.

Rest in peace, Ball-less Wallace the Asshole the Cat. Thanks for letting us hang out with you for a little while.

It's too bad I'm not a morning person

Because it sure is lovely outside right now. It rained last night and the grass is sparkling and the trees are dripping in the sun.

It's pretty inside, too; my house is oriented so it's fairly dim for most of the day, but right now the light is filtering through the blinds and the skylight. It looks like a totally different place in here. I think I've been awake at this hour maybe twice since we moved in.

Nice as this all is, I better get to bed before my room gets too bright for sleeping.

Grinding forward

Nothing certain yet, but we're getting closer on the house thing.

I went bungee jumping a couple of times in high school, and this house-buying thing is giving me the exact same feeling in my stomach as I did when I was standing on the edge of the platform, all harnessed up and looking at the tiny mat below. Except this is going to cost a lot more than $40. On the other hand, if anything goes wrong this time it's not too likely I'll end up with my spine jutting out of my chest and my head dashed open on the pavement. So that's good.

Making fun

I can't wait until the 3-D printer hits the home market. I will print trinkets, tchotchkes, doodads, and baubles. Then, when I tire of all that, I will print up a robot sidekick whose strength and cunning will allow me to rule the world with a careful blend of brute force and benevolence. I may also crank out Mardi Gras beads as a sideline.

Man v. Market

We go out again tomorrow to look at houses. We have a bit of a crush on one of them, but given our luck lately, we'll see it in person and realize it doesn't have plumbing. Or floors. Granite counters, sure, but no floors. None whatsoever. Just a bunch of joists and empty space over hard-packed dirt, where a family of possums cowers and hisses.

What is so goddamn special about granite counters anyway? That's another one of those things people install in houses, however ineptly, just so they can trumpet it in the MLS sheet: WOW!!!!!!!! GRANITE COUNTERTOPS IN KITCHEN!!!!!!!!!! or  ****THIS IS A MUST SEE FANTASTIC UPDATES GRANITE COUNTERS COME HOME TO ORGASM TOWN**** or whatever.

I mean, granite counters are nice, but I'm pretty sure they don't merit that kind of excitement. ALL NEW GRANITE IN KITCHEN!!!!!!!! IS THE CURE FOR CANCER!!!!!!!!!! AND WILL BROKER AN AGREEMENT BETWEEN THE ISRAELIS AND THE PALESTINIANS!!!!! THAT IS AGREEABLE TO BOTH PARTIES!!!!!!!!!!! FOR ALL ETERNITY!!!!!!!!!!! SELLER MOTIVATED BRING ALL OFFERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Honestly, guys, it's just a kitchen counter. Although I hear bamboo flooring will eradicate hunger and sharply curtail domestic violence.

Anyway, wish us luck. I'm getting kind of bored with this, and I have a tendency to do bad and destructive things when I get bored. God, I'm such a badass I can hardly stand it.

I could teach you but I'd have to charge

My coworker Jo can shimmy. She stands, smiling but serious, holding her arms halfway up at her sides. She looks almost dainty for a second. Then she, well, shimmies. It is magnificent. It reminds me a little of those paint mixing machines at the hardware store.*

Jo is trying to teach another coworker to shimmy, but while the other coworker is definitely getting better, it's just not the same.

Me, I can't shimmy. I don't really have the build for it, for one thing, but I suspect it goes a little deeper than that. Some people can move. Some can't. I use my body primarily to navigate my day and do things like force open stubborn doors. Sometimes I do my dorky happy dance, and occasionally I pull out what I hope is a graceful recovery from tripping and almost falling on my face, but that's about as far as I go, movewise.

It doesn't have anything to do with self-consciousness, either. I don't think I'd do any better if no one were watching.

Actually, no one is watching now. Maybe I'll try again.

Nope. No no no no no. I don't look like the paint-can machine at all. Or Jo or Tina Turner or even the rapidly improving coworker. I look like I am simultaneously suffering from rickets, tetanus, and epilepsy. That is an unfortunate combination.

That's okay. Shimmying is entirely optional, and as far as I know I am going through life just fine without it. It looks like fun, though.

*She can also do a fairly respectable approximation of p-popping.

Rrr

First of all, rrr.  Furthermore, rrr.

Moreover, rrr, rrr, and rrr (to say nothing of rrr). 

In conclusion, rrr.

Admission

Today I took care of the easiest items on my list from last night, and of course it took far less time to actually do them than to compile a whiny list about them. I feel a little better now.

Also, this is hard for me, but I have a confession: The main reason I want to put off getting my driver's license has nothing to do with time or even money. It's disgusting, shameful vanity.

I'm pretty sure I am due for a new picture this year, and like I said, I will not have time to get my hair cut and pick out new glasses before it expires.

So for years and years I will be stuck looking at this:

Whereas if I could just wait a few months, I'd have something like this:

      

Of course I can't count on looking exactly like that because I haven't decided what kind of frames to get yet, but you get the gist.