Yes, I Am a Friend of Otis

We have three elevators at the plant: a passenger elevator (the absolute slowest elevator ride I have ever been subjected to), a large freight elevator (the most frightening elevator on Earth), and a small freight elevator. That small freight elevator (similar to the one pictured above) is my all time favorite elevator, ever (insofar as it's possible to actually have a favorite elevator, for crying out loud).

Anyway, the small freight elevator. You know the kind: steel car about three feet deep and six feet wide, with an open top and a pull-down wooden-slatted inner gate, all in an open elevator shaft, where each floor also has a pull-down metal-grill gate as a double redundancy. The kind of elevator with an up/down lever the rider has to hold down throughout the entire run, otherwise the car will deadstop once the connection is interrupted.

Same thing with the call buttons on each floor; one to call the car "up" to you, and the other to call the car "down" ... if you want that car to come, you need to look up and down the shaft to ascertain where it is (and whether it's already in use) then push the approprate call button, holding it down until the car arrives.

Since there are so many people on-site during the day (e.g., first shift), freight elevator etiquette is de rigueur. If you step on hijack someone else when the elevator is in-use you'll hear it up and down the shaft, same happens if you're in the car and "drive by" someone who is calling the elevator. And once you get a bad elevator rep, that's it, you're stuck with it.

I like that elevator so much I go out of my way to use it ... doesn't matter that I'm at the South end of the building and it's at the North (long building, looooong building), or that I have to "gear up" (e.g., change into my steel-toe shoes and don a hairnet and hard hat), or that it isn't at all temperature controlled ... whatever it takes, whatever the season, that small freight elevator is my preference.

The only time I can't use it is first/last ride of the day, as all my safety gear resides in my fifth floor office, which is why certain previous posts have lamented days of passenger-elevator-breakdown-so-walk-up-a-bazillion-steps-to-the-fifth-floor with no mention of "so I walked down the other end of the plant and took the small freight elevator instead" ... if I'm going to make everyone else wear safety gear, I can't cop out just because I'm fat and don't want to take the stairs!) .

But this past week my elevator ... my favorite elevator! ... has been toying with me. I get on, close the gates, press the lever and ... presto! Nothing happens.

What?!? Are you kidding me? My elevator doesn't work? So I try, repeatedly, muttering under my breath that I must not have the gate situated just so, and becominging increasingly frustrated with my anthropomorphised friend, the small elevator. I open and close both gates, jiggle them back and forth, press on the lever with varying degrees of pressure (because if simply applying a couple pounds of pressure won't do it, surely leaning my full body weight against the silly thing will make it work!). Not.

Then it moves, but not because I'm doing anything right, oh no! Merely because someone else, somewhere else, is calling my car. So I'm along for the ride. Sigh. I exit as soon as possible and takes the stairs (which happen to wrap around the elevator shaft).

This has gone on all week, with everyone laughing at me: the maintainance techs, who repeatedly make me show them my epic elevator fail, which they then turn into an abbreviated small freight elevator driving lesson (until I remind them that I've been driving this puppy three years now and I've got it, thankyouverymuch) ... and the operators, who pretty much do the same ... and the rest of the staff, ditto ... all while smiling maddeningly at my endearing little elevator foibles. I am the only person who cannot get this thing to work. Sheesh!

But today? Today ... finally ... the stars aligned and my small freight elevator is no longer putting me through my paces. Until.

Until last run of the day. I hop on and push the UP lever. And go nowhere. Expletive deleted! I try again. And again.

Fourth time is a charm, and away we go! All the way up to the fifth floor, where one of the maintenance techs awaits, arm extended, hand over the control, finger on the button, bringing me home. But.

But as soon as he lets up on the button, and before either of us can open the inner/outer gates, some yahoo on the first floor calls the elevator back down! Again!

I could have handled it better.

Instead ... I shrieked like a bansidhe, grieving the loss of my fifth floor. Not really, but I was not a happy camper, and may have poured my pent-up elevator frustrations just about all over the head of the poor lab tech who dared continue calling that elevator all the way to the first floor when he knew ... knew ... the person trapped within was less than pleased with being stepped on hijacked in such a fashion.

But Lisa, you ask, how could he know? Hunh. 'Parently you've never heard me bellow down an elevator shaft before.

I Probably Shouldn't Laugh

But they're just so funny. I picked up a couple Kongs while Lonnie was here, to give to the girls after he left as a reward for being such good doggie hostesses. Last time I tried was with the "regular" red ones, and the girls promptly ate them (then poo'd them out in chunks of red rubber for a couple days), so I was happy to find the "super-chewer" black ones.

I brought them home and filled the bottoms with broken cookies (e.g., doggie biscuits), then plugged the rest up with four heaping tablespoons of creamy smooth peanutbutter ... then froze them solid. I highly recommend freezing them ... it cools the girls down on a hot day, is far less messy (melted peanutbutter all over the deck is nobody's idea of wonderful), and ... best of all ... takes the girls much longer to empty.

First time I gave them to the girls was Sunday afternoon, right after Lonnie and crew went home. They did not know what to do with them ... Kaia took hers down in the yard and lovingly cradled it in a positively fierce Horton imitation, slobbering all over her new baby Who without quite getting that it was filled with yummy goodness, while Boogie ran from hers like it was chasing her with guns blazing (sigh, I should have known ...). That first time it took each about three hours to clean the Kongs out.

Today was the fourth time the girls have had them ... and the love is totally there! They doggie laugh! They doggie chortle! They doggie giggle and show & tell! They do everything but doggie kiss (with which I am totally cool, seeing as I'm not all that big into a face full of doggie slobber). These things are the perfect shape for being able to grip well enough to carry around, but not quite well enough to bite through. P'awesome!

Bear figured it out right quick and, after running all over the yard showing her prize off to every blade of grass, bird flying overhead, cloud in the sky, tree in the yard, and the next door neighbors, she lumbered back up on the deck and had a lie-down to get. every. last. bit. out. She is the living embodiment of the slow glean.

Kaia, on the other hand, after also parading her prize to all and sundry (real and imaginary), gave it her all to chew the thing apart for the goodies, "got to get to the nom-nom" ... "someone help me out here" ... "there's peanutbutter, can't you smell the luscious peanutbutter, someone HELP ME GET TO THE PEANUTBUTTER!!!!"

OMGoodness, I laugh out loud! I sit on the deck and guffaw ... actual belly rolls! These silly dogs, I love them to bits.

Boogie here, exhausted by her Kong ... too tired even to get that last cookie bit. No worries, though ... Kaia got it right after I snapped these two shots.

Kaia, completely done with hers, just before she snooped and saw Bear's still had a morsel for the taking.

AND ... I Have Math-Catletes (Cat-Mathletes?)

I've pulled out my 2nd edition Elementary and Intermediate Algebra from MTH208, just to see if there actually is any hope left for this lump I call a brain.

I opened it to chapter 1: Real Numbers and Their Properties.

Sigh. Lost already.

NEXT LITTLE BIT LATER:

So, I've pulled out my notes from MTH208, blah, blah, blah, blibbity blah (good thing I kept them).

Now, I'm off to relearn math, my all time favorite pita (for reals ... nothing else gives me such agita working it out, then such satisfaction once I've done it).

Wicked Awesome Poem Wednesday

Chocolate Math

Let's sum it up: I cannot add.
Finding a difference drives me mad.
I hate remainders and it's true,
Multiplication makes me blue.

Those plastic sticks just don't do it.
Who thought that up really blew it.
We'll do well with a new device,
These M&Ms will be real nice.

This subject now will be a treat
As Chocolate Math is really sweet!
I'll be an adder who never misses
While adding piles of chocolate kisses.

Here's a device found at the store:
Ten Tootsie Rolls, and I'll eat four.
Then I'll say, "I still have six."
With Chocolate Subtraction Tricks.

Now division can be done in haste
When it's done with a little taste.
With remainders I'll have a ball,
I'll pick them up and eat them all.

To multiply we will be able
To put some chocolate on the table.
Two candy bars times four are eight. (ate)
That product we'll assimilate.

If teachers would not preach and nag
But assign our homework from a bag,
All students could be math fanatics
By using Chocolate Mathematics.

-Bob “Grandpa” Tucker

I'm Greedy, Pleased to Meet You

Sunday afternoon AC and crew came to pick up Lonnie on their way home from the airport, after having been in-transit a bit more than 23 hours.

They. Were. Exhausted!

So much so that I rushed them out of my house to get back to their house (yet another hour of driving) for some much-needed rest before work the next morning.

In the rush to get them out, I took the gift bag AC proffered and set it on the stove, her explanation of, "I didn't know what to get so I brought them all" barely registering with me (other than my lame, "oh, such a neat bag" exclamation, because I truly do think the bag is kind of cool, being from halfway 'round the planet and all).

AC sort of blinked at me, then we got on with the rush of packing Lonnie up and trekking everything out to the car and taking leave. Then I went back inside and after awhile opened up the bag and took stock of these treasures. And was frankly appalled at my behavior! Among the items in that bag were:

This double set of handmade ebony sandalwood chopsticks from Taiwan. Gorgeous!

And these engraved wooden cup & bowl sets from China. Beautiful!

As well as this elegant handmade glass dragon head from Taiwan. Magnificent!

So I'm looking at this bonanza of loot from Asia and I realize ... I took all the gifts AC had brought back!

All! The! Gifts!

For everyone! OMGoodness, how rude! How embarrassing!!

And AC was so exhausted when I did it that she was at a complete loss as to how to tell me they weren't all for my greedy guts, so she just left them with me. I was horrified at my behavior and the (unintended) insult. Just like me, trying to help out and coming off like a horse's ass.

So I e-mailed AC right away (told myself I didn't want to interrupt their homecoming and tiny bit of R&R before work, but really just because I was too embarrassed to talk to her right then):

I really wish I'd had the presence of mind to look in the gift bag before I let you leave, as there is no way on Earth you could possibly have meant all those beautiful items for me. I was just supposed to pick one, wasn't I? I am so embarrassed! My apologies.

Why didn't you say something ... you were exhausted from the billion-hour flight, weren't you? Anyway, I'm bringing the bag into work in the morning so you can have all the gifts for everyone else back. Also you can tell me the story behind them all, because they're gorgeous!

So what happens at work? AC sits in my office and laughs at me. Giggles, even. There were a couple guffaws, and a chortle or two. Apparently my e-mail was found amusing: the entire bag, it turns out, was for me. A bag of swag. A bag of international swag. All for me. Wow.

That is so cool.

I am still too flipping greedy, though.

What About the "Off" Season?

Think they can make a "Not So Deadliest Catch"?

I'm going through withdrawal, people, and it ain't pretty! I've resorted to searching facebook and twitter for some f/v action.

My life is so pathetic at times like this ...

Color Me Sheepish

OMG am I a nitwit!

For weeks (weeks!) now I have been unable to get a volume on anything having to do with youtube, which has kinda stunk, because most video these days seems to originate there.

Anyway, went through the various diagnostics ... repeatedly ... no luck.

Talking to a colleague at work about it couple days ago, and he says something along the line of "have you checked to see if you need to un-mute the application volume?"

And I'm all like, "you can do that?"

... let me admit right here that most things I learn having to do with a computer are because I went and accidentally hit some key (or sequence of keys) at some time that impacted something behind the scenes the results of which I was completely unaware ...

So I took a close look at the next youtube link I came upon (this time from http://ambulancedriverfiles.blogspot.com/ link from today's entry) and there it is.

A bright red megaphone icon with an X next to it.

I click on it, and suddenly all is well in my youtube viewing universe!

Achoo!

It's official ... I've become allergic to something, just don't know what.

Most likely a flour, though, seeing as we have two new ones at the plant, and I've been sneezing non-stop (only at the plant, though - thank goodness!) for two days straight.

And it's not like I have a delicate little "chew! chew! chew!" sneeze, oh no! I have a rowdy crowd-pleasin' "Rah-ah-ah-AH-CHOO! RAH-CHOO! CHOO!" sort of sneeze.

They're taking bets, people ... so not fair.

Mer. Gonna make it tough to concentrate.

Soooooo Tired Right Now

Lonnie has been great fun but oh, my goodness! It'll be nice to get rid of him! This big ole lump of set-ways-and-schedule has pooped in my basement four (FOUR!) days in a row now. Of course, each has been completely excusable, and thank goodness he used the concrete floor instead of the wall-to-wall ... ditto that they were solid and not, well, unsolid, if you know what I mean.

Tuesday there was a rush-hour MVA (huge pet peeve of mine) on the way home, plus I had to stop to get Lonnie more food, so was almost two hours late (making it a twelve hour day) and Lonnie just couldn't take it.

Wednesday I didn't watch him closely in the morning and just assumed he went before I left for work ... once again, too long between times.

Yesterday I forgot to pick up the girl's full bowl of food when I let him out, plus I didn't go out with him, and he gobbled all their food up (on top of the full bowl of his food he had just finished) ... so even though he did go in the morning, he was far too full to last very long.

And today I left for work at 3:45am for a third shift event, and got home at 2pm, so just plain messed up his schedule again. I'm actually lucky he's still solid, come to think of it.

In the grand scheme of nuisances, solid poops on the concrete floor of the basement get a teeny-tiny thumbs down compared to, you know - the other kind - on the wall-to-wall carpeting upstairs ... which is exactly what happened when I was watching Brig's Golden Retriever Buddy, who (unbeknownst to me) had never "processed" rawhide before. Doh! Something to tell the sitter, people!

Anyway, a nineteen day dogsit is perhaps a tad longer than I'll sign up for in future (read that as "don't bother asking Lisa to dogsit for longer than one week, ever again, anyone!") ... and being at day seventeen, I am positively itching for a no-Lonnie zone. I'm just so tired! Every day it's get up and feed Lonnie, then let him out, but sit out with him or he'll bark non-stop, then get ready for work, then let Lonnie out again, but sit out with him or he'll bark non-stop, then leave for work, then come home from work and let Lonnie out, but sit out with him or he'll bark non-stop, then feed him again, and let him out again, but (oh, you know this part!), then get ready for bed, then let Lonnie out for the last time, etc.

Go to bed, do it all over again tomorrow. And the second daily "feed Lonnie" part is an event in and of itself, involving 2 parts dry food, 1 part canned food, 4 different meds, water, mixing, and sitting-with-while-eating-to-ensure-no-choking.

What I'm used to is get up, go to work, come home, and in the meantime keep the girls bowls full of food and water (they're on the all-food-all-the-time plan because they've always been and .. luckily for me ... aren't gluttons ... they've never known any different, so only eat when they're hungry). Sometimes two whole days will go by before I have to refill their food bowl (which they share, sweetly, with each other). And unless it's particularly inclimate weather (e.g., 87 degrees or more, or 45 degrees or less, or pounding savage rain, or blizzarding) they practically live outside (by choice), twentyfour-seven.

So you can understand how having Lonnie adds time to my day, which subtracts time from my sleep, which I and my RA-riddled body do not like. I'm up at 5:30am and off to work around 7:30am (ministrating to the Lonster adds approximately 45 minutes to my morning routine) ... then I have to stay at work an extra half hour (because that's how late I am in the morning, but I just can't bring myself to get up at 5am for a dog! and not even my dog at that!). Then the after-work routine adds about an hour and a half ... mostly because the little shite barks so much if I leave him out alone, and I can't keep him in the house all the time, that's got to be doggy abuse or something ... but we have a good time because I basically spend that time sitting on the deck putting the pats on all three of them, and it is peaceful.

So from now on, and into at least the near future, the only doggie houseguest I'll be accepting is Yellow Dog, and that will only happen if one of you manages to sneak him in (for those of you not in-the-know, Yellow Dog is just about the ugliest migratory concrete-painted-black-painted-yellow-yard-ornament-guard-dog that we sneak into each others houses/vehicles/garages etc.) ... you can admire him in the picture above. Yellow Dog has been "found" in car trunks, basements, showers, washing machines, and dryers, on decks and picnic tables, and even once in a pile of pretty white gravel in the middle the front door steps. The little guy gets around.

Back on topic: this last week of having Lonnie has been tricky, and although I'm the first to admit he's a lovely fellow, I'm ready to start missing him, pleas (e.g., ready for him to go home with his people).

Yes, I (Kinda) Cheated There

But I had to ... I didn't hear Larry's poem until just now.

I had to DVR Deadliest Catch because I had a work timeline that was due today, so everything got taped the past couple days.

Anyway ... I just watched the episode, and wouldn't you know right at the end there they had Larry Ryser, Deck Boss (and poet) on the Incentive reciting this beauty ... so I overwrote my original "Wicked Awesome Poem Wednesday" from yesterday with the one he recited.

I love it. Love it! Go back to yesterday's WAPW and read it. Go on. Now.

You'll love it, too.

Ain't It Grand?

Two ... I don't know ... issues, topics, whatever ... I'm pondering today:

1. The Example He's Setting
2. How Not to Help

On the "example", I'm talking about President Obama. There are these actions he's taken (I want to say lately, but they're really just the latest), and I find them increasingly disturbing:

FIRST he attempts to ramrod various programs and bills through Congress (e.g., health care/cap & tax), going so far as to threaten to effectively shut down our federal governmental processes if he doesn't get his way. The federal govermental processes of the United States, people!

SECOND he purposely fans the flames of national racial debate by calling PRESIDENTIAL attention to what is essentially a local issue of a man, of some political clout, who refuses to hold himself accountable and accept responsibility for his own indelicate and indiscriminate actions. The President, people!

NOW he has the nerve to accuse political detractors of engaging in "petty politics" while placing blame directly on Congress for maintaining the healthcare crisis. Congress, people!

Yep. Exactly the example I want the leader of the Greatest Country on Earth to set.

Not.

On "helping", here's the gist of a recent e-mail I read, advising of upcoming changes.

In effect a new position has been created (yay!). At the same time the duties of an existing position will be split between some other ... existing ... positions ... in order to make room, organizationally, for the new position.

With you so far.

And we'll be working to help the ... uh, seceding ... existing position holder find a new ... er, job ... over the next little while.

Wow. Is it just me, or is this a preeeetty effective way to damn any chances the incumbant has to get a lateral move anywhere within the confines of the recipients of that e-mail? I mean, if that person was actually wanted, the author'd have just said something along the lines that effective such-and-such a date, so-and-so's new job title and responsibilities would be X, while his/her old responsibilities would then be split between Y, Z, and A.

Right?

Or am I being way too negative?

On the one hand, maybe the author was trying to let everyone know this great person was coming up available soon, so they'd better snatch him/her up while they have the chance (very naive, but plausable); but on the other hand, it certainly appears the author has absolutely no use for this person and doesn't want to be even remotely responsible for saddling anyone else with him/her. Especially since the tract ended with the standard get-in-touch-if-you-have-any-questions-or-require-clarification.

Er, yeah ... you were preeeeetty clear.

Wicked Awesome Poem Wednesday

I Fished a Place


I fished a place like no other place

You'll ever find on Earth.

A place where the hard work and danger

Can, and should, reflect a man's worth.

I fished a place where the hours are long;

Sleep, rare, if at all.

A place where even the strong

Sometimes stumble and fall.

I fished a place where you spend countless hours

Pulling countless pots.

A place where the memory of her back home

Is thought with countless thoughts.

I fished a place where the weather can turn

Bad in the blink of an eye.

A place where are those who'll get hurt,

And some will even die.

I love this place

And the pride it's given me. You see,

Very few people on the face of this Earth can say,

"I've fished the Bering Sea."


-Larry Ryser

Whoa! That's a Lot of Kale

Man have the past few weeks been a madhouse! It's budget time again, where we put in for what we want next year, and for the third year in a row it has been my baby to head up ... meaning that, even though Bossman told the troops repeatedly to get onboard, I had the major say in how much money and headcount each department has requested. You'd think they'd have learned by now how very important it is to be integrally involved in this, but nope. One guy even went on a trip when he knew it was due and his wasn't complete! Doi.

Today I handed in the preliminary draft, reviewed it with Bossman, made a few minor payroll changes, and sent it on. Yippee! This is the draft all the work goes into ... all revisions from here on out are due to the state-of-the-business, over which we have little control (as opposed to our facility having no idea what our needs will be).

Being done? Most awesome! I actully felt the stress of the past little while melt away. Deep breath ... aaaaaahhhh. If there was mint, I was smellin' it! This, combined with the strongly lingering way-cool-junior effects of my recent vacation, has me in a state of near euphoria. If I didn't know any better I'd challenge the world to bri ... but, nope ... not gonna jinx it.

Now I can get back to writing that Great American Novel (not really ... but I can get back to writing for my own enjoyment). Been so long I'm going to have to go through my notes again to remember what's what (and who's who). At one time these characters where like real people to me, and I would rattle off imaginary comments and conversations in my head, no worries.

Going to bed at night was like setting up a new chapter or event ... it was very entertaining! Isn't it weird how it seems that for many of us, our imaginations sort of fade out as we get more busy with making a living? Not necessarily as we get older; the two just tend to go hand-in-hand. But then, it's not like the filthy rich are all that well known for their great imaginations, either, so maybe the correlation is somewhat flawed.

Sigh. There I go again; instead of 'Conjunction Junction' it's 'Digression Station' with me.

The really weird thing about being in charge of the money is the massive (to me) budget. If I hadn't spent years screwing up my personal finances, suffering the consequences, then (with great luck and tremendous support) setting them straight, I'd definitely have problems separating *my* finances from *not my* (e.g., work) finances. As it is, since I've been through the wringer finance-wise, I drive my plant (and sometimes even Accounts Payable) absolutely bug-eyed ... snicker ... it is kind of fun!.

My personal annual budget is 0.0049% of the plant budget. Yep, I did the math. Can you imagine that?!? Because I can't, and I live it! Less than one half of one percent! Whoa, Nellie!

I, um ... I have little left to say after that nugget: 0.0049%. Ain't money grand? I get to have a giant budget, but not run myself into the poorhouse while I'm at it ... and because it is so huge, we're currently running 26% under budget YTD (while good, not as good as it sounds, seeing as sales is down about 20%, but still ... we freakin' ROCK!). And the supercool thing is that I kept Bossman completely informed of the two of our guys who took a seriously over budger department July of last year and ended the year at budget ... amazing! And Bossman rewarded both of them for their incredibly hard work. It. Was. Awesome.

On the Effects of *Really* Bad Timing

So you know how I’ve got this houseguest, Lonnie (by the way: discovered I spell the English equivalent of his Chinese name wrong … it is supposed to be “Luan”, not Lang”)? Well, he barks. A lot. As in non-stop. But it took me a few days to realize it. The girls are barkers, but only when there are specific things happening:

• Strange dog being walked on our street
• Strange dog running around loose in the neighborhood
• Utility people reading the meters (they walk through the yards)
• Kids cutting through the yard to the back neighborhood
• As a signal they want to come in … now

They also have this howling thing they do on occasion, but I don’t know why, or even if they start it … I just know it becomes a neighborhood chorus of many dogs when it happens, but it doesn’t last long (and sounds kind of cool).

They do not, however, walk out the door and bark. And bark. And bark. At a blade of grass, at a fence, at the neighbors (enjoying their backyards), at the cars driving by, at the wind, etc. They just don’t.

And, of course, Lonnie was here for days before I realized he barked at all, and another couple before I figured out the dog that was constantly barking was him. His people told me he doesn’t like to be outside (whereas my girls are out every minute that I’ll let them) but that turned out not to be true … he loves to be with the girls, so I’ll leave them all out from 6am ‘til 7am, then again from 5pm ‘til bedtime. Lonnie stays inside while I’m at work, though, because I don’t know whether he can handle the midday heat, so I want to be home when he’s out.

So anyway, I realized he barked after he’d been here a few days, and thought it was because he was having fun with Kaia and Boogie … but a couple days after that I realized the really annoying dog next neighborhood over who barked absolutely non-stop was in effect Lonnie, in my backyard.

He barks constantly, but has this super-muffled bark that seems to come from far away. I have to actually look at him to confirm that really is him … it’s very muffled, and deep … hard to explain; it’s weird, but totally cool. When the girls bark there is absolutely no mistaking it … sounds like they’re standing right next to you, even though there’s a wall between you.

So anyway, I make my grand discovery and determine to not leave Lonnie outside without supervision anymore (although it doesn’t bother me, I am well aware that for many people a dog barking is as annoying as fingernails on a chalkboard) … all I have to do is say his name and he stops barking. I don’t want to upset the neighbors.

So I implement my Lonnie diligence: he starts to bark at my neighbor out gardening, I go and call him in … at which time neighbor says (in an I-am-not-even-attempting-to-hide-my-annoyance voice), “Thank you.” I feel like dirt; I apologize and explain he’s only temporary and will be leaving the 2nd, blah, blah, blah, blibbity blah.

Now I’m totally on watch; the rest of that night I’m on Lonnie like white on rice … he even looks like he’s drawing a deep breath and I’m there. Next morning I left him out with the girls while I grabbed my shower, and knew it was a mistake as soon as I stepped out … wouldn’t you know all three of them had set up an awful ruckus? But since the girls were in on it, I knew they were barking at someone, and turns out I was right; they were barking at whichever lovely “neighbor” smashed my birdfeeder in the street and moved a neighbor’s “For Sale” sign to in front my house (that part was actually funny) and dumped a couple other neighbors full trash bins all over their front yards (it was trash day).

My first thought was that a dog had hit the trash cans and my birdfeeder … but no dog I know of can move a 'for sale' sign! Moving that sign, by the way? Still funny!

So, I’m kind of bummed, though … bummed about my birdfeeder, which is the first I ever got and was not cheap and was the bird’s favorite … bummed that when I replace it someone will damage the new one … bummed that if this was some kind of misguided retribution because a visiting dog barked for a week, then that means I have at least one assbucket “neighbor” who can’t even man-up enough to complain to me in person … and bummed that it bothers me this much.

It’s like that time a few years ago when I extended my Summer vacation by a week and my lawn wasn’t mowed while I was away due to miscommunication, and I received a letter from the Police the day after I got back (about three hours after I had finished mowing the field … er, lawn) detailing how I was in violation of ordinance yadda yadda yadda and a neighbor had notified the police and really?!?! No are-you-lying-comatose-in-your-kitchen, is-there-anything-we-can-do-to-help, are-you-okay?!?! Just your-grass-is-too-high-you’re-destroying-my-property-value-quit-it?!?!

And the notice made the mistake of detailing exactly how high was too high, so I determined for the rest of that Summer to keep it one inch shy of too high (because you asked for it, assbucket neighbor!) … but couldn’t figure out how to do it, so they skated on that bit of retaliation on my part (although I did only mow every three weeks the rest of that Summer, ostensibly to keep the grass from turning brown and dry as long as possible, but kind of really to thumb my nose at assbucket).

So here's my bad timing ... if I had realized it was Lonnie sooner, would our three houses still have been hit by whichever neighborhood punk was out at 6:30am last Thursday morning? I don't know, but I kind of think the dog barking was what little excuse the dirtbag needed. I can't believe how bad I feel the the birdies, because I won't be putting more seed out until after the 2nd, when Lonnie's people coem get him.

Now I'm going to go sit out on the deck with my three wards, and we're going to scope out the neighborhood (but we're not going to bark at anyone, lest we offend their tender little sensibilities).

I've Done Gone Overboard

NAME: Kaia
ORIGIN OF NAME: 1988 movie "Willow" ... Kaia was the name of Willow's wife
STATUS: Sitting on my couch in the kitchen, awaiting an opportuniy to steal Boogie's "binky", the Purple Platypus.
BREED: Labrador Retriever
GENDER: Female
BIRTHDAY: March 14, 2003
ACTIVITIES: Following Boogie's lead (if I let her think she's the boss life is ever so much easier for everyone!), tail-wagging, convincing everyone I'm a "lapdog", notifying the nearby vicinity of all and sundry neighborhood activities, staring at Boogie like she has three heads when she starts barking at nothing (but TOTALLY joining in when Boogie starts howling ... we ... sound ... awesome!!), chasing Boogie in the rain, perfecting my she's-so-cute-lets-give-her-a-cookie look, getting so excited at the thought of taking a walk that I have to go pee, stealing rawhide chew-toys from Boogie when she's not looking ... in general, being awesome!

NAME: (Full Tilt) Boogie
ORIGIN OF NAME: Racing yacht in Newport, RI ... thoroughly describes her personality (either "on", or asleep)
STATUS: Laying under the kitchen table, slobbering all over my "binky", the Purple Platypus.
BREED: Labrador Retriever
GENDER: Female
BIRTHDAY: March 14, 2003
ACTIVITIES: Barking, tail-wagging, "cleaning" off the kitchen counter, notifying the nearby vicinity of all and sundry neighborhood activities, defending my demesnes against all invaders (who like to disguise themselves as neighborhood kids cutting through the yard, but I'M ON TO YOU!!), running in circles in the rain, rough-housing with my sister Kaia, baring my teeth at the leash (no, I do NOT want to go for a walk!), devouring rawhide chew-toys like I'll never eat again while ignoring a full bowl of food ... you know, stuff like that.

I've just finished making Dogbook pages for Boogie and Kaia ... methinks I may have too much time on my hands.

Um, You're the President ...

... of the United States.

Think before you speak!

Sheesh.

Wicked Awesome Poem Wednesday

One Ring

Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

-J.R.R. Tolkien

Bumper Sticker I Wanted Today:

"No One Enjoys Being Stuck Behind Your Happy Ass Going Below the Speed Limit During RUSH HOUR!!"

This is Kemo Sabay

Which in our lexicon means "Faithful Friend" ...
Because that's just exactly what she was ...

During Mom's and Dad's voyage.

And she was certainly a beautiful little yacht!

Her current owners invite Mom and Dad to visit her on the Block, even!

My Recent Purchases

Or, “Why’s It Take So Long For the Delivery?” in a really, super-duper whiny voice.

So I have this list of stuff around the house for Dad to fix (or otherwise work on) next time he comes for a visit (because, yes … at the decidedly grown-up age of 44 I still need my Daddy!), including:

• Washing machine – it’s been knocking on spin a couple years now (somebody either overloaded or unbalanced loaded it).
• Overhead light in guest bathroom – fan part works, but not the light part (yes, even with a new bulb … I’m not that dim!).
• Automatic icemaker – leaks right into the fridge (well, not right now, but that’s only because I shut the water off … after Dad told me how).
• Ceiling fan – last one to replace is in the office (the one there now is from the ‘70’s … not really, but you get the picture), and put a light fixture on the one in the living room (I just plain love ceiling fans!).
• World map – have I mentioned how my completely, totally, perfectly awesome parents circumnavigated the world in their Hans Christian sailboat “Kemo Sabay” (mentioned, by the way, in Heyward Coleman’s memoir “The Next Port”)? No? Well they have! Left from the Chesapeake, went all the way ‘round to the left … er, West(ish, some East/South/North, too) … and came home to Newport Harbor? Took ten years, thereabouts, with a few trips back home to visit. Well, they gave us kids world maps with the route outlined to that point (about halfway), and I want the rest of their route added so I can frame that sucker and hang it high.

I also had the garbage disposal on the list, as it crapped out when the little-engine-that-no-longer-could burned out in late June … and at first I was all, “Oh, no!” but then I realized I don’t actually need a garbage disposal, so it was all good. But then I quickly discovered I just can’t wait ‘til October or so for Dad to come out and install another … that thing stinks!! Since the disposal outlet is about an inch high up on the garbage well wall, water just sits in there and stagnates. I’ve been pouring a half cup of bleach in every night after I do the dishes, but it still stinks, so I’ve ordered a replacement from Sears (where America shops) and they’ll be installing it as soon as it gets here and I can schedule it.

Which brings me to the title of this blog; seems when I go on a buying spree, I go on a buying spree! Not only do I have the garbage disposal coming from Sears, but I also have a new toaster (shorted that out in June … apparently June was a bad month for appliances in my kitchen … while attempting to clean out the crumbs), and a new blender (with a glass container, because the plastic one became a bit of a chew toy after it was left within easy reach of a certain someone who’s name rhymes with ‘oogie’).

But ordering from Sears wasn’t enough, oh no … I then went over to Amazon.com and comparison-shopped for a new George Foreman Grill!!! I’m very excited about the grill. If you’re a hater, I don’t want to hear it.

I loved my old GFG, but it was tiny, and a nightmare to clean … either had to clean it before eating supper, thus letting the food get cold (kind of defeating the purpose of cooking a hot meal) or reheat it after supper to get the gunk hot enough to clean off … but the parts weren’t removable, so I could never dunk it in the sink to really clean it.

Which is probably why Boogie really loved that thing. I’ll bet it smelled like every burger, brat, pork chop, and chicken breast ever cooked on it. She simply could not resist that day I left it on the counter … so I came home that night to a three-piece GFG that would never … ever … work again. Not such a big deal in the Winter months, but in the Summer? Whoa, Nellie! I don’t know about you, but I am absolutely loath to turn on the oven when I’m running the air conditioning … so it’s either replace the GFG or eat a lot of take out.

Now, my new GFG? It’s the G5 … it has six (SIX!!) take-outable (okay, “removable”) cookplates! Six! I can cook almost anything! The only problem I have with it is that its red, and all my kitchen appliances are white, but the white one was $50 more, so you know in the end I just fell in love with the red after all (snicker!).

Oh, and I also ordered “Coupling”. If you don’t know what “Coupling” is, you’ve missed out on some serious funny … Google it. Go ahead, Google it. I love BBC America, I truly do.

So c’mon Sears and Amazon! Get my stuff here soon!