Aburrido

I think that's Spanish for bored. Or boring.

Or it's what a gringo orders at Taco Bell.

I'll have aburrido with a large Diet Coke.

But that's what life has been like here. Kinda boring. Not much to post about.

I was reading Mag's point that she recycles everything.

I do too. I've noticed not too many people around here do.

Every other week is paper/leave recycling week. Most people don't put out anything (i.e. Zorba the Slumlord downstairs) or they just put out a stack of newspapers and maybe a few boxes. There are quite a bit of people that put leaves/yard waste out there too.

But I'm like Mag--a paper packrat. Everything goes in the recycling.

Boxes.
Toilet paper cores.
Chunky's old schoolwork/takehome announcements.
Food packaging.
Tags.
Newspapers.
Catalogues/magazines.
Junk mail.

Babies.



Ha ha! No! We had a big load of paper recyling this week and Moochie was curious to see what was in the box. So we tossed him in it.



He seemed to enjoy it.

But something to think about. If you have curbside recycling, read up on what your service allows. Chances are they accept all types of paper. Not just newspapers and magazines.

Not much knitting to speak of. I'm working on a Christmas present for Cousing Blue Face Lester.

Due to the royal screwing by the Power that Is in delaying Dr. Mad Scientist's ability to be paid (oh and I just learned the first year you're a "real" teacher--they assign you a "mentor" teacher to show you the adminstrative ropes of your school. These "mentors" get paid extra to do this--and guess where that pay comes from? That's right! His salary! NICE!!!!! I'll bet that's some union clause...just a hunch) it's going to be a lean Christmas.

Lots of kids-only and family gifts. Ah well. There will be time for excess later.

And speaking of spending money and excess, Grandma Mad Scientist will be here soon--so expect some more radio silence.

Grandpa Mad Scientist bailed yesterday and won't come. So they're trying to figure out if
Cousin Flower Girl (she was our littlest flower girl at our wedding) can come instead of Grandpa MS. Apparently they didn't realize that it's NOT a simple thing to transfer a ticket in this post 9/11 world and it's going to cost something like $1500 to change it.

Dr. Mad Scientist's mother is shocked.

But why? The airlines are all nearly (if not already) teat's up--why wouldn't they charge you????

Aye, I swear. Maybe my life isn't such a burrito after all!!!

Going Spicy

I saw a commercial the other day with a familiar looking waifish blonde belting out some country-emo song.

I sighed and turned to Dr. Mad Scientist and said, "Remember the good old days when that airhead Jewel was the only Alaskan anyone had ever heard of?"

Oh those were the days!

In honor of Alaska's biggest haired biggest airhead giving us a bad name and her idiotic book hitting the stands today, I'm GOING SPICY!

As in ginger spice.


It's a shame Dr. MS and I aren't exchanging Christmas presents this year, because the nipple zipper bustier would be at the top of my list.

No, no, not that ginger spice.

More like this.



Mmmm...soft ginger cookies.

Preheat your oven to 350. Cream together 3/4 cups of butter, a cup of sugar. Then add a quarter cup of mole-asses and an egg. Mix, mix, mix. Next you add in a teaspoon of baking powder, a teaspoon of cinnamon, two teaspoons of ginger, a half teaspoon of ground cloves and beat it up some more. Finally you add two and a quarter cups of flour. Mix, mix, mix. Roll into balls and then roll the balls around in some sugar. Bake for 10 minutes.

Behold the soft barely-baked, chewy centers.



I'll be honest, I like my cookies to have chocolate of some sort, but I make an exception for soft ginger cookies.



Hey Moochie! Would you like a cookie?





Now that's a spicy cookie!

I'm Not Crazy!

Or at the very least, I'm among crazy people.

We won't last that long though this year. Moochie and the In Laws. Ah well, there's always next year!

Weekend Plans

T-Minus 10 days until the In Laws descend upon us.

The project I will tackle this weekend is cleaning the fans.



Ugh. Nasty.

But to my credit, I never really look up at the ceiling much.

In the kitchen that is...I look at the ceiling in the living room a lot. If you're on my Facebook (I nearly typed Fecebook--woah. Freudian slip?) you'll know I've recently whined about the unearthly sounds of the baby vermin that have hatched/spawned in the ceiling. Ugh. The sound just makes your skin crawl and I'm waiting for the day they pop out of my ceiling while I'm watching TV.

I need a Ceiling Cat.

I may take next Monday off to prepare a bit more for the landing. It would be nice to not have a certain little man underfoot.

The big one can only entertain the little one for so long before they both get bored

.

I'd much rather be quilting or knitting or sewing or reading myself!

Poppies Make Me Sleepy

Happy Veterans Day.

Today on the internets you will see the usual sentiments marched out and then inevitably you get the reciting of "In Flanders Fields."

But you all know I'm not like that.

I swim against the current. And today I'm going to introduce you to a grayer but just as meaningful poem.

Aftermath

Have you forgotten yet? ...
For the world's events have rumbled on since those gagged days,
Like traffic checked while at the crossing of city-ways:
And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow
Like clouds in the lit heaven of life; and you're a man reprieved to go,
Taking your peaceful share of Time, with joy to spare.
But the past is just the same - and War's a bloody game ...
Have you forgotten yet? ...
Look down, and swear by the slain of the War that you'll never forget.

Do you remember the dark months you held the sector at Mametz -
The nights you watched and wired and dug and piled sandbags on parapets?
Do you remember the rats; and the stench
of corpses rotting in front of the front-line trench -
And dawn coming, dirty-white, and chill with a hopeless rain?
Do you ever stop and ask, "Is it all going to happen again?"

Do you remember the hour of din before the attack -
And the anger, the blind compassion that seized and shook you
As you peered at the doomed and haggard faces of your men?
Do you remember the stretcher-cases lurching back
With dying eyes and lolling heads - those ashen-grey
Masks of the lads who once were keen and kind and gay?

Have you forgotten yet? ...
Look up, and swear by the green of the spring that you'll never forget.

--Siegfried Sassoon, 1919

I've blogged about it before but I was introduced to this poet by reading the Regeneration trilogy by Pat Barker this past year. It's a great fictionalization of what his wartime life may have been like. I also recommend her latest book Life Class. It's set during the time of the Great War and has an interesting message that translates well to today's state of affairs.

So thank you those who chose to serve because you felt like you had to defend your country or to fulfill a sense of duty, to those who were forced to serve against your will but did anyway and to those of you who served because it wasn't so much a duty thing as it was more the best way to advance your life.

Seeds of Annoyance

I haven't been doing much crafty stuff lately.

I made a pair of baby mitts for Moochie out of some nipple-red Red Heart and strung them with some i-cord. He now thinks he's got toys hanging off his coat sleeves.

But they're nothing to really blog about.

They're kind of like other things I've had kicking around my brain that I could probably blog about, but they would be very bitchy posts.

I've been thinking of things that annoy me like fathers that talk to their kids like their kids have the intelligence of a potato.

Or musing as to why they don't teach personal finance in school better. I mean we had a class in High School, "Consumer Math" or something like that. It was pretty much stigmatized as being "math for kids who won't go to college." Yeah I went to college and wasted my time on trigonometry. Do you know the last time I had to find the sine of an angle? Yeah. Never. I hope those "dumb kids" are laughing at us.

And stressing about all the cleaning I'm going to have to do for the Grandma and Grandpa Mad Scientist visit.

Stressing about all the money we'll be spending when they're here. Why couldn't they have come next summer when times were not so lean? Moochie and Chunky would still be adorable. (Because you know seeing Dr. Mad Scientist and I is just a happy bonus to getting to see the furthest-away grandkids.)

Procrastinating making lunches for the boys and me for tomorrow and hopping in the shower.

Sloring myself for votes for my Santa Baby Food Jar Ornament. I think I might have a chance--I mean they wouldn't have to pay for airfare. I could drive to the Grand Prize for less than a tank of gas. And it's less than $10 on the train to get to NYC. Besides as much as I don't really care for Barfy Marfy, I'd love to meet a witch in person.

Because we all know Martha Stewart isn't a demon. She's a witch. Nobody could do that much decoupage without calling on the powers of darkness. (HEE! Yes, we just finished Season 6).

Did you make it this far?

Shall I reward you?

Perhaps with a Moochie in a box?



Sometimes you gotta make your own fun.

Dear Sir or Madam Will You Read My Ad?

My sister T. thinks that no one reads the words on packaging and in advertisements.

(She obviously has never read Penny Karma's pieces on Inspirational Tampons.)

These are the words she toils away at at her job as a copywriter.

Maybe it's because of her or because I'm weird (probably a little bit of both) that I've been finding the latest batch of crap in the mail and newspaper oh so hilarious.

It's starting to be holiday time and I think this holiday season people are actually realizing the economy is in the shitter.

I think the sentiment was there last year too--but people were still a bit dazed about it and some were still in denial.

This year it's really sunk in.

The ads are starting to reflect this more--as they encourage us to spend our non-existent or stretched thin dollars.

My favorite has to be this one from Downy.



It reads: "Staying in is no reason your alluring side shouldn't come out. Express every side a touch more with Downy Simple Pleasures. Renewing scent pearls release with your embrace. So from alluring to serene, daring and beyond, you can feel more."

Hells yeah. If I use Downy I'm going to skip going to the dinner and movie and get laid instead!

Take that copy and replace the word "Downy Simple Pleasures" with "KY Personal Lubricant" and read it again.

Yup.

And then there's my favorite store that I hate going to because it's full of dumbass shoppers and two cashiers working the registers with 15 registers sitting empty on Saturdays at 2:00 p.m. when it's raining and every one's there--Target.

Target's mailer to me was full of coupons for "up & up" their "new line of value basics."

These are products that they claim to have created on a few simple beliefs:

"the things you need can also be the things you want.

a store brand can be as reliable as your favorite name brand.

and quality and value can be best friends forever.

here's to looking up."

Apparently not the first word in a sentence and using fragments is also on the up & up.

It must save money in ink if they don't capitalize the first letter and leave out the subject of the sentence.

Their coupons crack me up because they read like bad fortune cookies.



"nothing says 'i love you' like good hygiene."

Shit, this probably means I should go change my underwear and brush my teeth huh?



"bandages should be as comforting as the hug they come with."

If I made bandages they would make you feel like you should suck it up and be a man--it's just a paper cut! Quit your crying!

Also: "moisturizing is like a vacation for your skin."

Using cheap moisturizer is like a vacation for your skin where it rains and you get stuck in a crappy hotel room where you can hear the guy next door to you snoring, the door lock is broke and you have to prop a chair under the doorknob keep it secure, and the sheets on the bed have some odd stains on them and smell of stale cigarette smoke.

Thank god I don't moisturize my skin. It likes to stay home and avoid the hassle of vacations.

You know how it is--you moisturize and then it's like you need a moisturizer from your moisturizer. Exhausting!

And finally:



"sometimes happieness is as simple as a good fabric softener."

Wow. Maybe I'm not using the right fabric softener.

Don't tell the pharmaceutical companies about this--soon we won't need Viagra to get laid or Prozac to feel happy--we'll just need fabric softener!!