Yesterday, I was going to make a pot of my incredibly good (if I say so myself) chicken soup, and I wanted to check the sheet of paper to see how long I should boil the chicken.
| See, here’s the thing. I can cook, but I’m not a talented cook, and I have no innate cooking skills. I don’t experiment with recipes much – I like to follow the instructions closely – and I like to know that something needs to cook "for ten minutes" as opposed to "until brown", because I think that brownness is subjective. HOW brown? Light brown? Medium brown? Dark brown? Almost-burnt brown? Don’t tell me "until brown", people! I like having concrete instructions to the point where if a recipe instructs "Cook for 8 to 10 minutes", I will set the timer for 9 minutes, and go off to do something else until the timer goes off. It’s just the way I am, okay? And I’m old and set in my ways, so don’t try to change me. |
The sheet of paper? It wasn’t there. It wasn’t on top of the fridge, it wasn’t on the floor, it wasn’t anywhere at all. After searching for it for five minutes, I found Fred, who was sitting in front of his computer, and said "Have you seen the sheet of paper Farmer Rich gave us?"
"Yes," he said. "I threw it away."
You can imagine the temper tantrum that followed. I NEEDED my sheet of paper, people! And the entire time, Fred had a smirk on his face, so I half-suspected he was fucking with me, that he KNEW how important the sheet of paper was to me and had simply hidden it somewhere. Finally, he went out into the garage and dug into the garbage can to find it.
It was soaked with juice from the pole beans we’d had with dinner the night before.
"I’ll go rinse it off," he said. Again, with the smirk. I assumed that he knew that rinsing a piece of paper would make it disintegrate, and I sat down to put on my shoes to go for my ass-kicking hill walk. He came back into the garage.
"It fell apart," he said, and threw it away. Bastard.
Luckily, my chicken soup came out excellent anyway.
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Sunday, Fred and I were in the computer room, each sitting at our own computer netsexing each other (just kidding! We were actually netsexing complete strangers…heh. Kidding on that one, too), and Fred said in a deeply concerned voice, "Bessie, it appears that you’ve been hacked!"
I turned around and saw this on his screen:
"Oh my GOD!" I screamed, and turned around to view the offending page on my own computer. I was horrified. A man’s naked ass! Next to a picture of my beloved baby!
I got to the page on my computer, and saw no naked butts.
"It’s not showing up on mine," I said, clicking the "refresh" button.
"I know," Fred said proudly. "I was just fucking with you."
It appears that there is a site (well, used to be a site – the guy took it down) where you could go, enter a url, and have that page come up with nekkid hairy asses wherever there’s a picture. I’ve gotta hand it to Fred, he definitely freaked me out with that one!
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I spent the morning running errands – including spending an ungodly amount of money on Mother’s Day cards – so I think I shall spend the afternoon (what’s left of it, anyway!) sitting on the couch and reading the rest of The Nanny Diaries, which is a pretty damn good book.
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To me, he looks an awful lot like he went out and bought some cheap tan-in-a-bottle and slathered it on. Hee!
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When I came back outside from getting the camera, Miz Poo followed me out. She got about a foot from the back door, saw the tabby, and puffed up. They moved toward each other, and I was just standing there until Fred said "You’d better put her inside."
So I put Miz Poo back inside and went to take pictures of the tabby. He was as friendly as he could be, purring and rubbing and flopping down to roll around in the grass. He wasn’t wearing a collar, but he seemed to be in good shape, so we thought he probably had a home somewhere. Fred was happily petting the tabby until I took a step or did something unexpected – I’m not sure what, exactly – and the tabby scratched Fred’s hand.
Fred decided he didn’t like the cat anymore, and kept his distance. From inside the house, Tubby closely watched everything we did, an intense look of hatred on his face.
Finally, we went inside, and the tabby hung around for a little longer, and then headed off to points unknown.
Monday morning, I was sleeping soundly when Fred came and woke me up to tell me that while he was snoozing on the couch with the back door open so that our cats could go in and out at will, the tabby had tried to come in the house. Fred chased him off, and as the tabby ran by Fancypants, who was sitting in the middle of the back yard, Fancypants took it upon his stupid-ass self to try to start a fight. Fred shooed the tabby off before Fancypants could get his ass kicked.
He’s a good little cat (the tabby, that is. NOT Fancypants), and mighty friendly, but it kinda pisses me off that he’s coming around so much – our dumbass cats hiss and growl at him and try to start fights, so I feel like we can’t leave the back door open all the time for them to go out, because they’ll either get out there and pick a fight and get their asses kicked, or the tabby will try to come inside, and believe you me, I do NOT need another shedding machine running around here. I have no idea how old he is – he’s small, so he may still be a kitten – and I have no idea whether he’s got a home, or if someone moved and left him behind, or what the story is. He’s not wearing a collar, and thus isn’t wearing an id tag. Neither of us is inclined to call Animal Control, because if no one claims him, they’ll put him to sleep, and like I said, he’s a really good little cat. Fred suggested that we make sure all our cats are up-to-date on their shots, and just let the tabby hang around. But Fancypants is an aggressive asshole sometimes.
He came around this morning, and I took a can of air out and sprayed it at him. He didn’t seem too terribly frightened, but he did run off into the neighbors’ back yard. And of COURSE I felt bad for scaring him off. But what can I do? Our cats have to come first, and since the entire reason we put up the fence was so that they could go into the back yard, I guess from here on out I’ll scare him off when I see him. I really wish, if he has a home, that his owners would put a collar and id tag on him.
Of course, I’m one to talk. Fancypants often jumps our fence to explore the neighbors’ yards, and he doesn’t wear a collar or id tag either. I’m going to remedy that this week, though – I ordered an engraved id tag, which will be here in a few days. The only problem will lay in finding a collar to fit around his skinny little neck.
Y’all, what does Chanel No. 5 smell like? Everyone always raves about what a classic scent it is and how much they like it, but I’ve never smelled it. It’s so expensive that I don’t want to spring for a bottle of it, but I’m really curious to know what it smells like. If anyone out there wears it and would be willing to spray a piece o’ paper with it and send it to me, I’d be grateful. Of course, as expensive as it is, you might not want to waste it like that! According to the description – Contains bergamot, lemon, jasmine and is accented with rose, vanilla and amber. – it sounds like it’s right up my alley.]]> 
The dog, who likes to keep an eye on everything. He is, as Fred would say, a DAWG. He walked over, sniffed at our tires, and then wandered off into the woods.
One of the chickens running around. This is a family pet, I guess, because the chickens they sell are kept in a pasture, but this one and a couple of others are allowed to run around and eat the dog’s food, and there’s even a little swimming pool for them. They have a pet duck, but it wasn’t around this time.
This is the swimming pool, but not the one I mentioned above for the chickens – that one is a small blue one. I wonder how they keep the duck out of the pool, or if they do.
Near the house, there’s a little playhouse. Cute, isn’t it? I’d kinda like one of these for myself!
As we were driving away, we spotted a rabbit. Of course, we got all excited and had to stop and take a picture, because we’re dorks. You can’t really see him, but he’s sitting near the base of the tree, on the right side of the tree. There’s a closeup below.
Okay people, you got your picture. Move it along…
More gorgeous scenery.
Horses! These horses aren’t part of the farm where we got the chickens, but we passed them on the same road.
I swear to you, these horses were all looking in my direction one second, and the next they all had their asses pointed toward me.
This guy lifted his head and looked at me a couple of times, but do you suppose I managed to get a picture of it? Of course not.
Hay! Fields! Pretty!
Scenery outside the gas station.
Scenery in the parking lot while I was waiting for Fred to come out of Subway with our dinner.
Defilement of a happy face sticker will be a crime when I’m Queen of the world.
Wiggins St! Hee!
Every summer, I end up obsessed with one sort of tree or plant. This year, it’s the primroses that grow wild everywhere. I took several pictures of them, because I think you should be obsessed with them as well.
One of the things I like about going to Hartselle is driving down Main St. To me, it looks like a perfect all-American town, and I keep telling Fred that one day we need to go park and walk down the street. There are a lot of big, old houses I love to look at. Unfortunately, it’s a busy street, and I didn’t get any pictures of my favorite houses.
I love old houses with deep porches.
I think this house is actually empty, and probably not in very good shape. I’d love to see the inside, though.
The moon! I don’t know why, but it always fascinates me when I can see the moon while it’s still daylight out.
Back in Madison, this is a house I really like to look at while I’m out walking.
Fred said "What a junky car! Take a picture!" So I did.
Okay, that’s it for today. See y’all tomorrow! ]]> 
Foot-long veggie delite on white, no mayo, no cheese, and a bag o’ WOW Doritos.
I meant to take a picture of the actual food I had for dinner last night, but by the time we got home it was TWO HOURS past dinner time, and you just can’t get between a fat woman and her food in such a situation. It was good, though. I love me some Subway.
Dinner tonight:
Chips and salsa, top, and the #1, bottom – 2 chicken enchiladas, 1 beef taco, and rice. A nearby Mexican restaurant just opened – tonight was it’s first night – and we went to check it out. I can get Fred to go out to eat maybe once a month, so I was excited when he suggested we go out. The food was pretty good – not the best I’ve ever had, but I’ve certainly had way worse. (I would have taken a picture of the inside of the restaurant, because it was pretty cute, but Fred thought I was making a spectacle of myself with the pictures I did take, so I refrained).
I took a thousand and one pictures on our trip to the farm to pick up our free-range chickens yesterday (uh, to eat. We’re going to eat the chickens, I’m not sure if I ever made that clear. I’m thinking the people on either side of us wouldn’t be too happy if we brought home chickens and let them loose in the back yard. Though Tubby could probably herd them.Or at least sit and meow bitchily at them…), but I don’t know when I’ll get that entry done. I had planned to put them in today’s entry, but it’s going to take a long time to write that one, and I’ve spent a large part of the day sitting on my ass (which is also a large part. Har.) in front of the computer doing things on the 
The note next to the painted frog is from Von telling me that a dog hair got caught in the tape when she was taping up the package. I know how it goes – every single time I tape up a package to send, 45,000 cat hairs get caught in the tape.
Inside the box:
Is this the coolest thing, or what? I always eye the boxes similar to these when we’re in Gatlinburg, but they always have some sort of horse or mountain stenciled on the top, so I pass ’em by. And inside the box, herbal bath tea! According to the tag, it’s an aromatherapy blend of organic botanical herbs and spices with sea and mineral salts. And DAMN does it smell good. It’s reusable! Whee! But what’s the coolest of all is what’s on the bottom of the box:
Is it awesome, or what? You made my day, Von – thank you!
I sent my secret pal, Joanna, a batch of the best chocolate chip cookies ever. They’re not my recipe, they’re a recipe I got off the web somewhere, but they’re SO DAMN GOOD. Baking’s not terribly crafty, but as I told Joanna, I started a cross-stitch picture for my sister for her birthday 5 years ago, and I’m not done yet! (I’m working on it, Deb, really I am!)
Friday Five:
1. What are your hobbies? This site, 
unscrewed the plastic cover, and removed a large piece of spinach-looking gunk from the air gap floopy.
Apparently, that wasn’t a built-in soap dispenser, as we’d assumed lo these many months. Good thing we never tried to use it as one.
"That should take care of it," the service guy said. We stood around and listened, he commented that we must have cats (because of the refrigerator magnets), but he didn’t see any, I explained that they’re scared of strangers and were most likely hiding under the beds upstairs, and then awkward silence ensued.
Self, I thought to myself, if that’s really all it takes to fix this problem, then I’m going to kick your ass. (Pause to visualize that, won’t you?) Because SURELY clearing the air gap floopy is covered in the MANUAL that came WITH the dishwasher, which the previous owners kindly left behind, and YOU didn’t even bother to look. And when I’m done kicking your ass, I’m going to kick Fred’s, ’cause he didn’t look either.
To my relief, after about ten minutes, the washer made some sort of noise, and the service guy took out his drill and pretty much had to take the dishwasher apart. I wandered off to sit in front of the computer and pay bills while he worked. After 20 minutes, the mystery was solved. We need (I only know this because he wrote it on the bill) a new sequencing switch. I’d tell you what it is, since he so carefully explained it to me, but I could feel his words going in one ear and out the other, so I’ll simply tell you that it’s something the dishwasher needs and it’s important and all.
Since the dishwasher’s no longer under warranty (of course), he promised to call when the part was in (3 -10 business days) with an estimate.
Sucks to be the spud about now, since she’s the one responsible for washing the dishes after dinner.
Just call her Spuderella.
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Baby romaine salad with 
I was in the grocery store yesterday, doing the mid-week shopping (Fred does the big shopping trip on Saturday mornings (though I did it this past Saturday), but we always manage to run out of a bunch of stuff between Tuesdays and Saturdays), when I saw a couple of really cute plants:
I wanted to buy them, so I did. Even though "plants" wasn’t on the list and neither was "useless shit we neither need nor have room for." So there! That’s a Gloxinia on the left, and – according to the tag – a Hypoestes on the right. I’m a copycat, because 
Shortly before he kicked his hind legs up into the air and started licking furiously like the perv he is.
Almost looks there might be a flash of intelligence in there, doesn’t it? Don’t be fooled.
Sittin’ on the bookcase and pondering the birds outside.
I’m waiting for the dishwasher repairman to get his butt here. Our dishwasher, over the past few months, has started to not drain all the way at the end of it’s cycle. Fred finally called Mr. Rooter, who came, looked, and claimed it was because we hadn’t run the garbage disposal, and food in there was blocking it. $65 for that bullshit. Bargain, eh? Since then, I’ve been getting the dishwasher to drain by hitting "start" and then "reset". That worked for a few weeks, but as of today, it ain’t workin’ anymore. I’ve probably broken it or something, and we’ll have to lay out $24,349.53 to buy a new one, and it’ll all be MY fault.
Gah.
This is why it takes hours to write an entry sometimes. Because I have to reach around a portly Poo.]]>