I’m not sure that I’m actually the fire-making prodigy I’d like to think I am. I’ve set the smoke detector off twice in the past week and I’m still not sure why the house got so smoky. The good part is that the smoke detector is tied into our security system so rather than having … Continue reading “12-10-08”

I’m not sure that I’m actually the fire-making prodigy I’d like to think I am. I’ve set the smoke detector off twice in the past week and I’m still not sure why the house got so smoky.

The good part is that the smoke detector is tied into our security system so rather than having to get up on a chair and unhook the smoke detector and yank the batteries out to turn it off, I can just input the code into the security box (whatever the fuck it’s called) and turn it off that way.

The bad part is that I didn’t know that the first time the smoke detector went off, so I got up on a chair, unhooked the smoke detector, yanked the batteries out to turn it off, and still had to turn off the alarm on the security system.

I didn’t make a fire yesterday because it was in the 60s. Last night it was supposed to get down into the 40s, but it’s in the mid-50s right now, so I don’t think today will be a fire day either.

It rained like hell last night and a third of the back forty is under a few inches of water. The chickens aren’t complaining, though – they’re walking around drinking out of the puddles and splashing through puddles and kicking at the ground to get at the bugs the rain brought out.

Winter in the south. Ugh.

The good part is that it’s practically over; come February it’ll start warming up again while y’all in the colder parts of the country are still all bundled up.

The bad part is that I’m still so far from the ocean.

I think we oughta move to Florida, personally.

Except that moving all those animals would be the motherfucking death of me.

(Besides, I kinda like it here. Except when it gets cold. Of course, “cold” is subjective. I don’t know how on earth I ever made it through the cold-ass Maine winters, I’m such a delicate flower.)

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I’m beside myself with excitement.


Let me try that again.


As of this morning, I never ever ever have to shop at the local grocery store chain – let’s call it Porkkly Dorkkly – ever ever again. They’re opening a Publix in Nearville, and I’ve been eyeballing it eagerly these past few months, afraid that it would just never ever open, but the day has come! My beloved Publix has come to a location only five minutes from me, and I will shop there all the days of my life.

Yesterday morning I actually had to venture into town to go to Porkkly Dorkkly because Fred was completely out of cottage cheese, which he eats every morning as part of his lunch, and I couldn’t put it off ’til this morning.

It’s like the universe wanted to make sure I knew how very much I was going to love shopping at Publix and how very grateful I should be that I wouldn’t have to shop at Porkkly Dorkkly again. I went through the store quickly, picked up cottage cheese, oatmeal, and two loaves of bread. And then I went to the one lane that was open. There was only one woman in the process of being checked out, she didn’t have many items, so I figured I’d be out of there pretty quickly.

Not so much.

First, she had to write a check, and did you know that you can’t start writing at check at ALL until you know what the total is? Nope, you certainly can’t write in the payee’s name or the date or sign the check. You must know exactly what the total is, and THEN the check-writing process can begin.

Also, you must not have your license out and ready to be presented. Instead, once the check is written you must have to dig around in your purse for your license, to be held out to the cashier, who must punch the number into the cash register, AND SO ON.

But I’ve had to suffer through that sort of thing before, no big deal, even though I wanted OUT of there, so I amused myself by reading the front of the magazines.

So, items rung up, check slowly written out, license presented to cashier, all that accomplished – which must mean it’s my turn, right?


Instead, a conversation about weather radios commenced, and did you know that they sell weather radios at Porkkly Dorkkly? Indeed they do. They keep them behind the customer service desk, and so when customers decide they want a weather radio and it’s too early in the morning for someone to be at Customer Service permanently, someone must be paged because it appears that the cashier cannot leave her cash register to walk the fifteen feet to the weather radios, grab one, and bring it back.

So someone was paged, and she showed up and grabbed the weather radio and walked it over to the cash register, and the radio-fetcher went off to finish unloading the delivery truck or whatever she’d been doing, and guess what?

The customer wanted TWO radios. Didn’t she mention that? HA HA HA I’m so scattered this morning! LOL! ROFL! Time to page the radio-fetcher again!

Radio-fetcher looked less than pleased to be called again, and she stomped behind the customer service desk and stomped over to the cash register and plunked down the weather radio and asked “Anything else?”, and the customer and the cashier allowed that they thought that’d about do it.

And the second radio was rung up and the total was given, and the laborious check-writing process was underway and I could just about taste my freedom.

But wait! WAIT!

Did you know that these weather radios take batteries? They take batteries, and they don’t COME with batteries, that is such a gyp, I know. But the batteries are right there – see that sign three aisles away – and you might want to grab some batteries for your radios, they’d certainly be no good without batteries, right?


Guess what? Cashier can’t see anywhere on the box where it says what kind of batteries the radios take! So customer is three aisles away yelling “What kind do I need? How many?” and cashier is yelling “Hold on…!”

Time to page radio-fetcher! Radio-fetcher is pleased to be called away from what she was doing yet again, let me tell you. Radio-fetcher growls that the radios take three triple-A batteries each. Cashier yells this information to customer. Customer takes a LONG FUCKING TIME to decide that the big pack of batteries is the financially responsible choice. Customer wanders back to cash register.

The check-writing process begins yet again.

Customer and cashier chat it up. LOL! ROFL! O happy day, when I get to spend fifteen minutes waiting to buy two loaves of bread, cottage cheese, and oatmeal in the store that I am loathing more as every minute passes.

Customer finally finishes paying and wanders off. I answer the cashier’s “Good morning, how are you?” with NOT my usual perky “Great! How are you?”, but rather with a tight-lipped smile.

I don’t need to write a check, buy a weather radio, or wander around looking at batteries, so my checking-out process takes about a minute and a half.

On my way out the door, I silently wish Porkkly Dorkkly a nice life. You know, for the two days it takes for area residents to realize that Publix KICKS ASS and Porkkly Dorkkly quietly folds and goes out of business.

I’m going to Publix later today, and I don’t even need anything. I just want to bask in the glorious glow that is Publix and be happy in the knowledge that I will never have to visit Porkkly Dorkkly again.

(Which is not to say that I won’t if they have some good sales – just that I don’t HAVE to if I don’t want to.)

And when I am dancing through the aisles of Publix, I will probably stop and hug every Publix employee who greets me. I might even kiss ’em square on the lips.

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2008-12-10 (6)
“I just wanted to walk across that lady’s desk and give her a head-butt, but that mean old gray cat with the stumpy tail growled and growled at me and I was SKEERED!”

More pictures over at Love & Hisses.

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2008-12-10 (7)
Miz Poo keeps an eye on the squirrels.

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2007: It’s a pisser that the things that are the least fun – cleaning, laundry – are a neverending cycle.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I want to marry you, Consumer Reports.
2003: The Bean’s nickname for today is “Stanley Rotten.”
2002: Xmas meme.
2001: And then Miz Poo SMACKS him again.
2000: No entry.
1999: I’m just saying.