Today Is Friday

Another week down.

Rehearsal didn't really happen so much last night. It wasn't cancelled or anything, and I showed up along with a number of other folks. It's just that 160 people did NOT show up. See, it was sprinkling yesterday off and on, and rain was forecast for the evening as well. And despite the fact that the call board was never updated with any cancellation notices, those 160 people decided that they'd just stay home.

Those of us who *did* show up got a nice meal out of it, and a fairly long Q & A with "Cap", whose given name eludes me, but whose leadership skills and speaking prowess will never. Honestly I can't really tell you what his job is, except to sort of guide us all through this process and make it work. He's just really entertaining to listen to, and makes us feel like a valuable part of the show, instead of treating us like the untrained peons we really are. Of course the former is true as well, and I don't mean to discount that at all--they *could not* do this without the 400+ volunteers (as evidenced by the fact that with 160 short last night, we got to sit in a tent chatting with Cap instead of actually rehearsing). It's just really nice to be treated as a member of the team, and with respect, instead of just getting orders barked at us.

I talked to him about this after he wrapped up his answers and sent everyone on their way. I'm sure I came across as a total cheeseball suckup, but I told him that I was really impressed with his speaking and his leadership. We chatted for a bit about the fact that in order for it to work, the volunteers have to really *own* the process. They have to feel a part of the whole. Without that feeling of partnership, it will never come together. Cap lamented the fact that, as a society, we don't do things "together" anymore. Everyone runs around with their cell phones to their ears, in their own little worlds. No one wants to be spoken to by a stranger, let alone help them with something.

He talked about the days when there were barn raisings and community fire departments--times when people got together to help others out because it was the right thing to do--not because it was a paid job. This, in his mind, was harkening back to those activities. A bunch of strangers coming together to do something great. Not because we'll make a bunch of money, but because we can. Sure, it will be a lot of work for "Free". Most people probably signed up because they wanted to be on TV, or tell their buddies they were on the Superbowl.

Regardless of their reasons for signing up, for everyone involved it will be a huge learning experience and a chance to be part of something bigger than most of us will ever know. The production team, and Cap most notably, is ensuring our success by really including us, and not treating us as outsiders. I hope that a lot of people take that feeling away with them and remember to apply it in their everyday lives.

5 Words...

I never thought I'd hear myself say:

I'm going to the Superbowl!

It's true. As some of you know, Superbowl (mumblemumble because I have no idea what number it is...) is being held in Glendale, Arizona this year. Glendale is a whopping 20 minute drive from our house.

Orginally I wanted nothing to do with the debacle. I wanted to leave town for the week and rent our our house for $20,000 (no, that's not our house...but an example of some of the many many ads posted).

Then, a message was posted to one of my Meetup groups. Superbowl Productions needed people to help with the Pregame and Halftime shows. OH EM GEE! I may not know what number Superbowl it is, or even who's playing, but I do know that the Superbowl Halftime show is one of the biggest productions....EVER. A chance to be a part of that? Sign me up!

Sign up I did, and went to our first rehearsal last night. I had to sign a confidentiality waiver, so I can't say much about it, but I will say that it's amazing. The amount of preparation and coordination involved is staggering. I am so excited to be a part of this, I can't even describe it, but R can tell you stories of my bouncing around the house and jabbering constantly and incoherently when I got home last night. It is going to be one of the more memorable experiences of my life, I'm fairly certain.

So if you're going to be watching the game, don't miss the Halftime Show! I'll be on the field...somewhere. :)

mmmmmm

Last night I made these for dinner. Yum. Honestly, I think the "gravy" would make anything edible in and of itself. Sososo tasty. And easy? The hardest part was actually assembling the raviolis. I really need to buy myself a pastry brush. Because the whole dipping ones finger in water and wetting the wontons? Tedious! But oh so worth it. I've been told that we *will* be having these again--preferably as part of our weekly routine. :P

Taco Tooooosday!

Except not really though. For one thing, it's not Tuesday... We had grilled cheese sammiches and tomato soup, because it's just so dang cold here. And yeah yeah, my friends and family in truly cold places will scoff at that remark, but let me just say that when you're accustomed to 110 degree +, 50 degrees seems downright frigid.

I had my appointment with the good folks at Charles Schwab on Monday, and the guy agreed with me that my once fantastically performing IRA mutual fund is now a dog. A mangy, evil, kitten-eating dog. We discussed moving those funds into something else, and my interest is in a "socially repsonsible" fund--something that doesn't put a boatload of interest in oil, or mining, or the like. We found one that looks good, so I'm to see about selling/buying on my own via the online trading thing. I'm also going to *finally* reinvest some of the cash in my MM account into a smaller cap fund in the hopes of getting a little better return.

Don't I sound like I know what I'm talking about? Haha fooled you! I am anxious to learn more, indeed, and the Kiplinger magazine is pretty cool, as far as a magazine written in a foreign language about a subject that makes my head hurt can be. I think I'm picking up a few things here and there, but I doubt I'll ever be "investment savvy". Perhaps. I certainly have the time on my hands of late to do something about it. :)

Um so yeah. Hump Day! Not much else to say, unless you want to hear about how clean my bathroom is, or how much my toes hurt from trying to learn to jump rope again. Yeah, I was jumping rope barefoot, what of it?

Oh, and did I mention that it's COLD here? Supposed to get down to the 30s overnight! Oh no! I'd better run and dig up my flannel pj's!

Bulbous Bouffant!

A clever person with a lot of time on his or her hands has put Bulbous Bouffant by the Vestibules to "video". Please ignore the distasteful image that this person has chosen for their avatar, and instead just click play and enjoy!

Shirking

I like that word, "shirking". It sounds sort of playful and painful at the same time. Of course it means neither of those things, but that's okay because in it's actual definition it works as a title here.

I didn't tell you about my day Thursday. Or Friday. I was shirking my duties to you, denying you the minutae that makes up my daily drill. To make up for it, here is a quick recap.

I made:

A *really* tasty taco salad using Mezzetta Vinaigretta, which I don't have a link for because--shockingly and unbelievably--I cannot find any mention of online, save for a mention on Hot Coupon World. It's not even on the main Mezzetta webpage. Very very odd. Anyway, I found it in the salad dressing aisle, entirely by accident. There are a couple different flavours, and I went with Chipotle something-or-other. If you're familiar with Mezzetta, you'll recognize the jar full of all manner of veggies, steeped in a sauce of yummy spices. This stuff, though, is meant to be tossed up with salad greens and served as is. I dumped some in a skillet and sauteed the chicken in it, then mixed it all with shredded lettuce and served it in a homemade tortilla bowl. (GO ME!) Very good stuff.

An appointment to see someone at the local Charles Schwab office. My IRA has been languishing, so I'm going to try to take charge again. But first I need a refresher course. Oh, and thanks, Dad, for the Kiplinger subscription--I got two issues yesterday! Overload!

An online order for a paper shredder. We have a lot of old documents that it's time to get rid of, and me tearing them into tiny pieces is *not* going to happen, no matter how much free time I currently have. It should be here Monday. Let the destruction ensue!

Every muscle in the top third of my body ache. I went pretty nuts on the Bowflex yesterday, and then spent some quality time in the yard with the lopper. I will soon be as trim as the trees and bushes in the back yard.

I did some other stuff too, but I've slept since then, so that's all that springs to mind. Today is Saturday, so it's laundry and dishes day. And I'm going to go for a bike ride later this afternoon. And...yeah.

<3

Wherein I try to clear my head before bedtime.

So last night I went to bed with my head full of thoughts and ideas. Not about anything specific, just...stuff. So much so that I didn't fall asleep for quite a long while. I used to write in an actual pen-and-paper journal before bed, and although I wrote about a lot of nothing, it seemed to allow me to rid my brain of all the fluff and get to sleep more quickly and to sleep more soundly once I got there.

That's the long way of saying that I'm going to attempt to do a little of that here and see if it helps. Expect a LOT of randomness, since the day is done and my head is a little like a pail of trimmings from the day's catch, if you will.

Today I:

Emptied the dishwasher but didn't reload it. I'll pay for that tomorrow. Unless it eats at me so much over the next few minutes that I succumb to the guilt and go do it before bed.

Walked the dogs and worked out on the Bowflex a bit. Turned wonky and now I have a SharPei (much love to my best friend in the entire world Even England) in my right knee. Shame, cos there was another death march up Piestewa Peak this weekend that I was going to attempt. Now, not so much.

Played on the computer more than I should have.

Went and saw Sweeny Todd which, in retrospect, makes me wonder "What was I thinking?" I had heard about the gore, but somehow convinced myself that it really wouldn't be *that* bad. But OH! It was. Very very bad. But the worst part? All the shaving! Who knew? A movie with a subtitle "The Demon Barber of Fleet Street"? Oh yeah, and the tiny fact that I actually played Mrs. Lovett in a high school production of it (not the musical). Despite all that, I somehow blocked out the fact that it is a movie about SHAVING. I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before, but I have an unfounded, yet completely real and ginormous phobia of watching people shave. I can't watch Gilette commercials, for pete's sake. I have no trouble shaving myself (although I gave it up for about 12 years, which is another post completely), and I have, in fact, shaved other people when I worked with adults with developmental disabilities. But watching someone else shave makes my skin positively crawl. It makes my teeth hurt. It makes my butt cringe. It...gives me the heebie jeebies. All that aside, it was a great movie. Tim Burton+Johnny Depp= WIN!

Tomorrow I will:

Write more and tell you what I did.

Goodnight!

On the 7th Day....

Yes, yes, I'm well aware that we're a full week into the new year. And that not only haven't I posted any recaps or resolutions, but that I've only posted one measley photo and a few lines of text--AT ALL. Yes, yes, shame on me.

One of my tentative resolutions was to write something--anything--on this blog every day. That quickly changed to Monday-Friday, and then realism swooped in and I thought maybe 3 times/week would be manageable. And then a week went by with nary a post and I thought maybe "more" would be the proper terminology for it. I'll blog "more" this year.

So consider this. Two posts in 7 days. That's not so far off the 3/week mark. I need some material, though. I'll take requests. What do you want to hear about?

Oh, the mile high hike? You want to hear about that? Here it is in a nutshell: "Ohmygod we're still climbing are you serious I'm going to die on this mountain."

Squaw, or Piestewa, Peak is square in the middle of town, and although everything I've read about it claims that it's a "moderate" hike, and an "easy" trail, it's a real beast. It's about 1,200-1,300 elevation gain in 1.2 miles. I'm not a mathematician, so I don't know what kind of grade that translates to, but consider climbing stairs for 1.2 miles and you're pretty much there.
I made it all the way to the top my first time up, which is no mean feat, but I was humbled by a couple people that passed me at least once doing multiple ascents.

I'll get the rest of the photos up on Flikr here pretty quick. It was kind of an overcast day, so they're not great shots, but I'm going again soon, so maybe I'll get some better light next go 'round.

Happy New Year!

Squaw Peak

This is the view from where I sit at the moment. One mile--straight--
up! No joke. More photos to come!

Expounding

So yeah. Yesterday I drove down to Fort Huachuca to visit our friend T, who was taking some classes. This was his last weekend in our neck of the woods (he and his wife live in San Antonio).

We'd been talking for months about visiting Tombstone and doing some hiking in the area, but the weather has been (relatively speaking, of course) remarkably bad here for the past couple weekends. Rain or shine, we decided, this weekend we'd do it. R stayed home to do Christmas stuff sans me--it was his only opportunity, since I'm here *all* the time!

Tombstone was kind of a bust. I don't know if we were missing the good stuff--maybe it's further off the beaten path--but it just seemed like an out-of-control kitsch market. There were historical markers and information, but they seemed few and far between. And completely overrun by the cheese. Perhaps I should have done more research. We walked around for a bit, saw a silly gunfight show, got handed eleventybillion flyers, and hightailed it back to Sierra Vista.

The photo in the previous post is from our trip up Carr Canyon. We drove a goodly portion of the way, until it became too icy. Yes. Icy! There was a bit of snow, and the air was thin and so so cold--it was wonderful. You see I broke out the stocking cap hat for the first time in over 3 years. I also got to break out the cozy wool socks and my underarmour. It was a great day. There are some actual trails up this mountain, so if T makes it back for another round of classes, I think we'll try those. But for the first excursion, the scenic road was really spectacular and a good appetizer!

Here are a couple more shots from the day--check out the Flikr badge to the left there if you want to see more.

Snow! OMG! Water! OMG!

Went for a trip today. It was much pretty. And there was snow! And A Creek!

More to come....

<3

December First. The Holiday Season is half over! We've survived Halloween and Thanksgiving, and have Christmas and New Years to weather yet. I can't tell you how thrilled I am to not be working retail during this time of year. My stress levels have plummeted, although I do miss seeing all the fun new stuff and having extra money to spend.

Haven't gotten out with either of the meetup groups lately, although our family did go to Sedona on Black Friday for a Pink Jeep Outing. (See the flickr badge on the left there for new photos.) It was my brilliant idea to take mom and dad up to Sedona the day after Thanksgiving and avoid the hordes of people out shopping here in Phoenix. It was a great plan, in theory. Unfortunately, aproximately 90% of Phoenecians had the same idea. The main street where the tour met up was packed with shoppers and tourists--we had to park blocks and blocks away. And it was COLD! Hats and gloves weather. And hot chocolate. It really was an amazing trip, though; I wish we could have spent more time *in* Sedona, but we were all frozen to the core by the time we got back from the Tour. It was all we could do to haul ourselves to a soup and sandwich shop before hightailing it back to the warmth of the car heaters.

The folks got here on Tuesday before Thanksgiving and left the Tuesday afterwards, and I mean it when I say it was too short of a trip. I'm not sure why, but it seemed to pass very quickly and I wish they'd have stayed longer.

We had another houseguest over the weekend as well, a friend of ours who is in the military and is temporarily stationed down by Tucson for some classes. Now that he and my folks are gone, and R is back to work it's very very quiet in the house. I spend a lot of time talking to the dogs, and the oblige me by responding in whines and wookie noises. It's not the same as human interaction though, so I may just have to spend some more time (window) shopping over the next few weeks, just to get my human interaction fix.

And OH! Look:
I just took this photo out of the loft window here at the house!

It rained yesterday for no less than 7 hours--practically non-stop! It was glorious. It was all dark clouds and gloom and flooding in the streets, and although we are supposed to have showers all day today, the wall of blackness is breaking up, and we're getting wonderfully fluffy cumulus clouds. I'm not sure if I've ever seen these here before. It is still raining off and on, which is just fine with us. We rarely get to experience *weather* here, so it's a nice change. Break out the hot cocoa and chili--this is about as winter as it gets!

Wherein I Demonstrate My Skills Of Poing, and the Rewards Therein:

These are the mysterious keys I found as a result of washing a shower curtain this morning.

Bear with me, this is a twisty ride. . . .

My parents are coming to town tomorrow for Turkey Day and other Festivities, so of course I have cleaning to do. I was working in the kitchen when R left for work, so I left my sink-scrubbin' for a moment to run upstairs and grab the shower curtain from the extra bathroom (we're on an energy-saving(s) plan that gives us a discount if we focus our energy consumption between 9pm and 9am, so I needed to get the washer goin).

Our washer and dryer are in the garage, and when I went out to put the curtain in the wash, I saw that the garage door wasn't closed (note to self: tell R his garage door clicker is out of whack). "Well" I though cleverly to myself, "Since the garage door is already open, I should move my car to the center of the garage so I can access it more easily when I clean it out later." I'm ever so efficient, you know, not wanting to have to open the garage door twice when once would do.

I moved the car, and realised that with all the crap in the garage I would not be able to pull up far enough to A) close the garage door and B) get *around* the car to clean it. "Hm. Well, why not just clean it out right now, while the garage door is open?" So I did. I really only needed to clean the trash out of it and give it a vacuum, but after I moved it I saw that the wee bit of armor all I'd wiped down some surfaces with yesterday had really made a difference. Enough of a difference that I figured I needed to finish the job to even it out. And as I did that I noticed that the windows were mighty ooky, what with all the doggie nose prints and stuff.

After the exterior of the car was nice and shiny and spot free, I tackled the inside. This is where the keys come in. I should preface this by saying that I have given my car what I thought was a good thorough cleaning before. And that I was told by the crappy crappy place from which I bought it (that should tell you something right there) that it had been fully detailed. I was vacuuming under the front seat when I spied something shiny (pause for giggles). I reached in and grabbed a key...which was attached to this keychain.

I've never owned a Toyota, and neither has R. We don't know anyone who owns a Toyota. Therefore, these mystery keys must have been lurking under the seat of my car for *at least THREE years*. How wierd is that? Someone can't ride his/her bike because I have the key to their Kryptonite lock. Looks to be a house key or two on there as well.

I know I should throw them away because we'll never find the owner, but...keys! I can't throw away keys. Can anyone? Everyone I've ever known has had that strange collection of orphaned keys. You're not sure where they came from, or what they go to, but we hang onto them, just in case.

Because you *never* know when I'll randomly meet someone who will tell me a funny story about how they used to love cycling until they lost their bike lock key and had to give it up because, well, Kryptonite!

So anyway. It's 12:20 and I've thus far cleaned part of the kitchen--including the sink, part of which I had to *re-scrub* because the residue from the clean had dried out and gotten crusty!--and unearthed oddities in my car. Oh, and I washed the shower curtain. There's so much more to do, and away I go!

Po-Ta-Toes!

If you have dogs, you will find this as hysterically funny as I did. If you don't have dogs, you are SO missing out. Because this? This is EXACTLY what it's like.

For Your Consideration

with love,
A Happy Dork in the Periwinkle

If...

...I ever make it to my dream destination of the British Isles, I'm *SO* using The Landmark Trust.

Making Good Use of My Newly Emancipated Weekends

I joined a couple meetup groups here in Phoenix, thinking that finally I'd be able to get out and meet people. Whaddya know?? It works! Went on a really beautiful hike this morning with a bunch of total strangers and it turned out to be a lot of fun.

Here is some cholla. It's evil. Don't ever ever ever touch this plant. It will bite and then cling forever to you.
Not that I know from experience or anything. . .












These little guys are apparently Barrel Cactus --NOT BABY SAGUARO. There was a sign that stated as much, but it had exclamation points and everything. They are kinda cute tho, what with the squattiness and the growing out of any nook or cranny. Plus, they're red. Within a sea of brown and more brown, with some brownish green accents, red is a nice lil punch of colour.










This was probably about the halfway point of the hike (which we were told was going to be about 4 miles, but I'm pretty sure was longer; next time I'm hookin the Forerunner up to my camelbak). See the two highest peaks? Just below them is a bit of a ridgeline. We hiked up and over there, and in the next shot you'll see the view looking down to the spot from which this photo was taken.














So. Right about in the center of the photo you can kind of sort of see a bare flat spot? Can't you? That's where the previous photo was taken, and here we are looking down. It's hard to believe that there is all this "wild" land in the middle of Phoenix, but it is. Off to the left of the photo you can see the rows and rows and streets and streets of homes. It's much the same to the south of this preserve as well. But it is nice that so much undisturbed land has been set aside. I hope it remains so.



So it was a lovely lovely morning, and I'm so glad I went. The downside of treks like these is that at this point they completely wear me out. I was home by 1pm, but spent most of the rest of the day crashed out--lounging with the puppies, or sitting right here at the computer. That just means I need to get up and out more and work on that endurance! We'll see about that!

Wherein I Continue To Digress. . .

I realise I have (seemingly, apparently) completely dropped the ball in the whole "These-Are-All-My-Past-Jobs" vein I had started. I haven't forgotten about it though, I've just, well, dropped the ball. See it bouncing? Right over there in the corner? Yep, there it is. I see it. I'll get there.

In the meantime, I thought I'd post some photos I took this morning.



This is the big wide flat trail that starts near our house and runs...a ways...through Scottsdale--that is when it's not blocked due to highway construction. I only got to ride about 7 miles this morning because of that, which is fine, because my bike is making bad scrapey scratching sounds. We'll probably get to that in the bike maintenance class I'm going to in a few weeks, but the basic class last night only covered...basically nothing. And since I hope to ride between now and December 8th, I'm either going to have to suck it up and pay someone else to fix my bike, take a wild leap and try to fix it myself (which would mean having to buy certain tools anyway, as well as taking the chance that it won't come out quite as well as the vacuum cleaner extravaganza), and/or ride R's bike or my old one.

I'm thinking a trip to the bike shop is in order. So just send some happy thoughts my way, will ya? Something like "It's nothing major and will only cost about $20 to fix."

Thanks

I've always wanted to see myself in an ad like this...

Several of the zine/papers that were run in the college towns I once inhabited ran an ad section called "Missing Persons". These were ads taken out by the lovelorn; someone sees another someone at a concert or a grocery store or walking down the street or whatever...and before they can muster up the courage to say hello, the potential object of their affection is gone. *poof*

The ads are a way of saying "I totally think you're cute/hot/interesting/cool and I want to meet you for coffee/hotsex/a debate on nihlism/to boost my ego. Sorry I'm a shy idiot and let you get away the first time. Please call me."

So I guess this girl in NY really made an impression on this guy. aww...

Go Here. See the big gray banner? See the lower right corner where it says "View Volleys"?

Doo Eeeet.

It's much cool. And it's distracting me from the abundantly dusty job of organizing, dusting, sorting, dusting, and cleaning and dusting the CDs downstairs. We need more Bennos! Or fewer CDs.

Ahahahahahahahahahaha!!! ROFLMAO!!!

(I blame the dust. There are gremlins in the dust. I inhale the dust, they take over my brain.)

It's a slow going day, because in addition to the cleaning thing, I'm replacing broken cases, making sure the right CDs are in the right cases (something that you wouldn't think needs to be done, but apparently there are those of us in this household that are ...*impaired*... in regards to getting our toys back home.), and trying to figure out why we have 2 identical CDs with no cases (yeah, yeah, it crossed my mind too, but this particular selection came out *after* R and I got together....), and many cases with no CDs. Our front room is clearly a mystery wrapped in an enigma, and suffocating in dust.

And these won't mean anything to anyone that hasn't lived here for the past 3 years, but here are some shots of the living room, which I finished cleaning/re-organising yesterday:

They are a bit of the blahs, because we aren't supposed to paint or hang anything on the walls, but I'm sick of white white white, so I'm going to put up some of R's very cool artwork and photos, and some art done by some of his friends. And that hideous hole behind the telly?


It's getting some schmancy velvet curtains--a la theatre.


We're tired of looking at the backs of the stereo system and the rest of the music junk.

I find it amusing that the one thing you can really make out on our shelves is the Yahtzee game. :) We have all these games around, just in case a bunch of people ever show up at the house and they aren't sufficiently amused by the dogs or our wit. Of course, the last time any of them got any play was when we lived in Oklahoma City. But we keep them around, because you just never know. And they give me something to dust. :D

Mistakes made, never learned from.

Once again, I've disobeyed my own 1st rule of blogging... Never ever read other blogs before posting. It garbles up whatever was in my brain to talk about, and makes me feel as though I really have nothing to say. I mean, check out what I put myself up against:

Pioneer Woman
The Fat Cyclist
Dooce
and
Shanny

(yes I know they are in the sidebar. But how often have you clicked the links from anyone's sidebar? hm? )

The closest I get to working calves is when I have to roll one of the pups for misbehavin' (Bucket *is* nearly as big as some of those critters, I think).

I did go for a bike ride this morning but there were no single track mountains of gorgeousity involved, and I only have 2 bikes in my arsenal, unlike Fatty, who has at least 6. And I haven't lost 40 lbs (I'd settle for 10).

Ah Dooce. No one wants to see my office space. But then again, it wasn't designed by an eco-artist. It wasn't designed at all! And even if it was, I don't think I could take such pretty photos of it.

Shanny--posts regularly about her insanely happy, amazingly normal life. New house, crazy critters, game-playing hubby...things I know about and can relate to! <3 Shanny

However, the problem still remains that I was going to jot down thoughts about my past week of "sick time", and/or continue my detailed delving into works past. And now, my brain is mush.

Maybe later.

Plans Awry

On this, my first full day off work, I had planned to completely clean out the kitchen. It is now just after 1pm, and I have successfully done the last two shelves in the pantry (so I fibbed a bit last night--they were an afterthought, really), the cabinets above the fridge, and the fridge itself.

There are a couple of factors here that are hampering my progress, the first one being that things were a little messier, dirtier, clutteredier (!!) than I had anticipated. The second, and more problematic problem, is that I'm a bit, um, obsessive compulsive on the rare occasions that I *do* clean. My old toothbrush has already been donated to the fight against the grime that collects in every nook and cranny. I took everything. EVERYTHING. out of the fridge, checked dates, reorganized, *CLEANED OFF THE BOTTLES/BAGS/BAGGIES/ETC*, and tossed out the stuff that we should have consumed up to a year ago. Everything came off the front of the fridge as well. The top and sides of the fridge are sparkling, and that grill on the front--down on the bottom there? As clean as it's going to get.

I've done two loads of dishes, and handwashed the meat and veggie drawers that go in the fridge. I've taken out two loads of recycling (aforementioned past-their-prime bottles and such, primarily), and have nearly filled my second trash bag. The garage sale pile has even gotten a few new goodies.

So it's been a busy morning, but I haven't gotten nearly as much done as I had hoped. The one day kitchen project will probably be at least two. But hey--I've got 7.5 more paid days off work, none of which I'd planned on. So technically? Way ahead of the game!

Unemployment starting.....NOW!

When my phone rang yesterday afternoon, I immediately recognised the phone number from work. I assumed they had finally figured out that they had scheduled one manager from 9-5, and the next manager from 7pm-3am (we're having the floors done), and that they'd be asking me to come in for a couple hours.

Not so much.

They basically said I don't have to come back, effective immediately. Seems I have an overabundance of sick time available (over 100 hours) that I will lose if it's not used. And they are WAY over budget on payroll hours. These two items are fact. So, as my "reward" for having such great attendance--read: never calling in sick, and going home early 2, maybe 3 times in the 3 years I was there--they offered to pay out my sick time. I get to stay home and get paid for it and they save on payroll hours. Win Win. Right? So why was I so suspicious and upset about it?

The unspoken bit of it is that they just don't want me around, stirring up the rest of the folks during my last 9 days of work. I am going back in for one final 11-7 shift next Saturday, November 3rd--it was going to be my last day anyway, and they have *graciously* said I could come in and work that day and they'd throw me a party and whatnot. Thing is, as of today, I've only personally told 4 people that I was leaving. Two of those were the GM and AGM, and one of them was as I was walking out the door today. I feel more than a little uncomfortable at not having told anyone myself. I made a copy of the phone roster before I left today, and I'm going to start making some personal calls over the next couple of days.

I also typed up a nice little letter for the boss guys to sign, indicating the reason that I was taking the last 8 of my 9 days in sick leave--specifically that it was not my request. As well it states that I will still be eligible to receive all vacation and float hours due to me, as well as accrue the whopping 3 or so hours of vacation that I would have gotten for working. I tried to cover all my bases because, quite frankly, I don't trust them.

So, yeah. I'm effectively unemployed, barring the token shift to say my farewells. After I dropped by the store today to get my little love note signed, I went to Home Depot to get some stuff for making our lawn pretty. Project time commences! I'm going to take some before and after photos, but I'm not showing you *anything* until I see some improvement. It's a pride thing. And the yard is really gruesome right now.

The pantry though? The pantry is already cleaned out. Like mother, like daughter! :D

Onward!

When I realised that it was not a good thing that the company I was working for was moving out of our sweet sweet office space and into the owner's home--not to mention the fact that he was using money *I* was bringing in by booking bands out to pay the bands *he* was bringing in (instead of paying me and my bands), I started looking for an hourly job. Sound Warehouse it was. Wow. They are still around too. You may remember that it used to be a chain, but in a big hooray for the little indie stores, when the chain started to implode, Rudy and Holly bought out the place and made it their own. Or something like that. The fact that they are still around makes me happy.

When I worked there, it was a combination video/record store. Yes, records. Vinyl. Cassettes. Old school, baby. I discovered Akira Kurosawa there, and named my (best friend's and my, that is) first-outside-the-safety-of-my-parent's-home dog after him. My Akira ate a bottle of blue paint and lived to tell the tale, but that's another story for another time.

I worked with a guy named Kevin Blakely (he played bass for Punkinhead)--the first black guy I'd ever really spent time around. His buddies used to come in and they would start chatting in this unbelievably incomprehensible way; it was utterly fascinating. I was too naive not to express my curiousity, and thankfully he was too well brought up to make fun of me or take offense about it. Thus I learned my second foreign language. The only thing I really remember is "Aight den". Which, of course, means "All right then".

I got a lot of free cd's and a lot more free passes to this or that live show. Mike Watt of Firehose showed up on my doorstep one morning after a show. He'd lost a filling or a cap or something during the show, wasn't going to be able to get to a dentist for some time, and I happened to have had a prescription for Tylenol w/ codeine (I'd recently had my wisdom teeth out and couldn't stand to take the stuff). Sleuth that he is, he got my address off the bottle, and showed up for breakfast the next morning.

And this one time, I got a boot to the head at an Agnostic Front show. Damn crowd surfers (thanks Shanny, for the proofreading!)

The job itself? I don't remember a whole lot about it, except for the part where we used to have to handwrite all the receipts. I used to be able to tell which album and which record label was represented just from the barcode. No joke.

Stay tuned for tales of how I moved on from my life in the music biz. . .

It'sThe Little Things: Witness

I just took this photo after the FOURTH time vacuuming the first floor of the house(the first two were sans belt). I'm shocked and a little embarassed at how filthy the carpet was/is. But I've got the new belt on, and a spare waiting in the wings. I'm ready for it!!

Sent from my iPhone

Vacuum Cleaning and Diagnostics

Add that to my list of jobs?

Well, unofficially. Probably more of a hobby than anything, I suppose. I was wondering today why a simple stray string wasn't playing along with the whole vacuum-suction thing. So I upended the machine and took a screwdriver to it. Turns out that odd sweet smell I've been noticing for...oh, let's just say a rather long time...was a direct result of the belt having melted and fused to the roller brush. And then disintegrating. Turns out two heads of long hair are mightier than the Eureka Power Vroom or whatever the hell it's called. I think I pulled enough hair off of the roller mechanism to donate to Locks Of Love if I'd washed and combed it out. So we're in the market for a new belt in the short term...but high on the wish list is a whole new machine. I did feel rather...crafty...for having dived in and taken the thing apart. Would that I'd have done it months and months ago. Word to the wise: if you have long hair or other sorts of windy (wine-dy) stuff on your floors, clean your vacuum from time to time. I am available in the Phoenix markets if you need such a service performed.

What's that you say? How can I digress so boldly when I've neglected the completion of my epic saga of past employment. A-Ha! It was a lead in, don't you see?

So yeah. Jobs after college.

Booking agent for Rock Solid Entertainment and Supersports. I had a lot of nerve when I got out of college. When I moved to Fayetteville, I started calling around to all of the hot clubs in town and asking for jobs. Amazingly enough, Chris King of JR's Lightbulb Club knew of a guy who needed some help booking bands and events. I gave Beau Whalen a call, and he gave me my first job in the real world, although you could hardly call it that.

I was fresh out of college, sharing an apartment (and soon after, a house) with my best friend, booking the hottest bands in NW Arkansas. Don't laugh. There was a pretty hip music scene in Fayetteville back in the day (still is, for all I know). I worked with Punkinhead (omg, they're still around! amazing!) The Faith Healers, Gypsy, Cosmic Giggle Factory--several others whose names escape me. I worked part time, at best, rolling out of bed late in the morning, working from no earlier than 11am--usually going in after 1pm (the clubs we booked into weren't generally open before then, anyway) and staying only until 5 or 6 at the latest. I got paid cash commissions off the bookings, and got into free shows almost every night of the week. Oh, and we lived about 3 blocks from where I worked, so I walked every day. The primary clubs the agency booked *into* was less than a mile from where we lived, so we walked there as well. Ah, the good ole days.

Still to come: The realisation that a regular wage is better than commission only.

But first...sleep.

Working Title

I did it. Last Friday I put in my notice at work. I gave them one month to replace me, given that A) it's the holiday season and they'll want to get someone in to train pretty quickly (although I've seen no movement to that effect) and B) I'll be hard to replace. :P

Of course I've been thinking about what I'm going to do next, aside from spending a couple days cleaning the HELL out of the house and perhaps hosting a garage sale to unload some of the stuff that's been boxed up for 3 years with nary a thought.

Thinking about what's next invariably gets me thinking about what's in the past, so I thought I'd share a rundown of my illustrious working history.

1. Babysitter. I don't know how old I was, but I know I was barely old enough to be left alone myself. I used to stay with my mom's friend's boy Ryan a lot. It was more like an unsupervised playdate than anything else. After Ryan there were a lot of in betweens, but the main other kids I sat with were Chris and Kyle Corbin, and the Lane boys, whose names escape me. I don't really recall ever babysitting little girls--at least on a regular basis, and I now find that odd. I always got along better with boys, anyway...

2. Video Store Clerk. I once made an error on a receipt that made it look as though we were $2,000,000 short at the end of the night. I didn't get fired!

3. Lifeguard. Yep. I worked as a lifeguard at a country club. Once, a friend of mine from school walked up to me and asked what the writing was on my hip. Turns out stretch marks don't tan well, and look like a form of writing from far away...

4. Disc Jockey. I was an unpaid DJ in college, and then one summer got a real live paying on air job at a local radio station. Power 105.9FM Northwest Arkansas' Best Music! I was the overnight weekend DJ. There are some freaky people up late at night, and they are not afraid to stalk the dj booth.

5. Baby Chicken Processor. Somehow I had in my head that this job would look good on a Peace Corps application. I debeaked and innoculated baby chickens, among other horrible, horrible things. It was godawful work, often for 16 hours a day. I saved a baby chicken from becoming chicken food once (oh how I wish I were kidding). Any "off coloured" chicks were tossed into the grinder, so I stowed a tiny black chick in my shirt pocket and took him home. He lived in a box in our front room and hung out with me on the front lawn. His name was Little Moufette.

6. College Radio Station Manager. After I was a dj for 2 years, I managed to become Station Manager. This entailed mainly making schedules, reading CMJ, and creating and booking a lot of live shows, including but not limited to: The Mongol Beach Party, Bunnies of Doom, and Sweet Baby. Ah the good old days of bands sleeping on the couches and floors of the house and getting their tour trailers stuck in the back yard. Good times, good times.

So that's the jobs up through college. Post college forays into the world of work will be for another day.

This green behemoth is the last place I lived in Lawrence, Kansas. The window(s) just above the porch roof? Mine. I had a fantastic 2 br/1bath apartment, with the smallest kitchen known to man. My cookie sheets wouldn't even fit into the oven, it was so tiny. If I had owned a microwave at the time, it would have had to sit in my spare room because there was absolutely no place for it in that kitchen. Literally, I'd say it was probably about 7-10 square feet. And that's probably being generous.

But that wasn't the only quirky thing about this apartment, oh no! As you might have guessed from the exterior, it was an old house, and as we all know, things tend to sag as they get older... My apartment ran the length of the entire house, and if you stood at either end of it and put down a spherical object of any kind, it would roll to a point roughly in the middle of the apartment.

And then there was the fact that all of the utilities were included, but communal. What that means is that although I had purchased a spiffy window air conditioner a few years prior to moving in, I was not allowed to use it. That would have shifted the electric bill rather a ways up, but everyone split the bills, so no go. The house did have a/c, but it was woefully inadequate. My "scrape-the-freezer-ice" trick was put into play again, but I also cleverly parked my self in the main hallway of the house on the hottest nights. There was a vent at either end of the hallway (there was but one in my rather large room, which happened to sit over the open entryway of the house, so was bordered on three sides by hot hot air), so I hung blankets to keep the cold air in, and slept between them on the floor.

Ah, the good ole days! I lived on a brick street, the photo of which I can't show you because Blogger apparently hates me just at the moment. But I had always wanted to live on a brick street, from the very first time that I visited Lawrence (thank you thank you thank you to my good friend Kevin Waddell for moving there and inviting me up--and introducing me to the guys that sold me my very first mountain bike too, btw!), and this house gave me that dream. And let me tell you...it's no picnic, especially in the little pickup that I was driving at the time. Or on that mountain bike. But it sure was pretty.
Ah! Now it works. See? I told you it was pretty.

Ravaging Burros

Yesterday, I went back to Lake Pleasant for National Public Lands Park Cleanup Day. I'm fairly certain that the wild burros were culprits behind all of the trash. They were clearly feeling surly about the fact that we were removing all the tasty styrofoam cups and Capri Sun pouches:
The day was strictly volunteer; I wasn't serving any community service for wrongdoings (despite the constant and very real urge to do bodily harm--or at the very least, curse at--the folks who frequent my place of work), and I wasn't having a guilt attack for tossing a huge pile of garbage out of my car window while driving down the highway (NEVER!). I just wanted to get outside, do something I could feel good about, and maybe meet some cool folks in the process.

So I took a floating holiday--and a lot of flak from my co-workers for having another Saturday off after having just been on vacation--and hauled myself out of bed at 5:30am in order to get to the lake by 7am. It's only a 30 minute drive, but a girl has to bathe and eat you know. I was paired with three other "singles": Krista--a girl about my age, Beverly--an older lady, and Arthur--a much older gentleman with what appeared to be Parkinson's. I only mention that because I was so amazed and impressed that he was out there climbing around and bending and lifting and shaking visibly the whole while.

Our little posse spent about 5 hours picking up junk from a day camp site and a big ravine on the side of a roadway. It truly is amazing how many Capri Sun pouches we found. As many or more of them than beer or soda bottles. True story. Another odd fact: plastic cups and lids disintegrate at a touch after sitting in the dry Arizona heat for a few weeks or months. So many times I'd reach for one of those quick stop plastic lids, only to have it break into a thousand teeny pieces at my touch. Oh the humanity! We found socks, flip flops, a couple styrofoam coolers, feminine hygiene products, lots of diapers, and tons of plastic bottle caps and plastic shopping bags, among other things.

At the end of the day, I looked like I'd stuck my left
arm into a clump of these.........................................
(which I guess, sort of, I had)
and I was more tired than I recall being in a very very long time. More tired than I was after chasing my best friend's 2 year old all over Kansas City! I actually laid down and took a nap after lunch. I never nap!

So I got out of work, got out of the house, got some scratches, and got some sun. I didn't get Krista's number, which I should have, because she seemed pretty cool. My friend Shannon would have done it, because she's outgoing that way. I need to take some more lessons from her on that front. Despite coming away without any new buddies, I had a really good exhausting day! And yes, there is water in Arizona!

The 21st Street Duplex

So as I mentioned a few days ago, I lived next to a psycho in that little brick duplex. I can't even really tell you how I discovered that he was a psycho. Maybe I just knew it all along. Sometimes you can just sense these things. I could probably count the number of times that I actually saw his face on one hand, but I immediately remember beady little eyes in a balding head--a sure sign of psychosis, right?

There were the long, long, long nights of extraordinarily loud music until about 4am (at a time when I had to be at work by 6am), and conversations that I listened to through the apparently thin wall separating us. I don't think he ever had anyone over to the apartment, so I *assume* he was on the phone, but you just never know. I couldn't hear everything, but I'm pretty sure I heard the words "score" and "rocks" on more than one occasion. I'm also pretty sure he wasn't talking about sports or music.

And then there was the night that he pounded on my door at around 3:00am demanding that I fix him something to eat. It had been a night of loud loud music, and he was obviously drunk/in an altered state. And he was pounding on my door. My door that shook visibly when pounded. My door that, I'm fairly certain, was less sturdy than even foam-core--"air core" if you will. And it wasn't a friendly "Hey, got any food in there?" Oh, no. It was a mean, drunken "HEY! Get up and make me some FOOD! Come on, damnit, I'm HUNGRY!" I happened to have locked my pitiful front door that night, which is a good thing, because he actually rattled the handle a few times.

Needless to say, I did *not* make him any food. I'm not even sure I responded to him at the time, at least not directly. I may have told him to go to bed. The action I did take consisted of protecting myself. I pulled my phone into my bedroom (this was back in the dark ages of land lines) and shut and locked the door. I think I stated before that from that point on, I slept with a steak knife under my pillow, but that was a lie. I was living alone, and I don't eat beef. I owned no steak knives! Besides, I'm far too much of a klutz to sleep with something so easily dangerous so close to my head. No, I slept with a cloak pin. Because that's safer than a steak knife, right? Thanks to an exboyfriend who happened also to have been a blacksmith, I had this little dandy in my Renaissance Faire repertoire. I'll pause for a moment to let all that sink in.

Renfaire geek with blacksmith boyfriend ---------> Recovering WoW addict with interactive web designer boyfriend. My how the times change.

Anyway. I called the property management place the next day and told them what had transpired. He remained there until long after I moved out (he was, in fact, still living there when I returned to Lawrence 3 years later--my old apartment was up for rent again and I would have moved back into it in a heartbeat had it not been for his presence), but the loud music ceased to be a problem and the drunken hunger rages were never directed at me again.

Didn't stop me from sleeping with my cloak pin for a long time afterward, and I *always* remembered to lock my door from then on.

There are more, slightly less life threatening stories from that apartment. Like the time I chiseled ice from my freezer and put it in a big metal bowl between my bed and a big fan because it was 115 degrees outside and I had no A/C. For three weeks it was over 100 degrees. I used to go hang out in the library for relief. So all winter long I saved and saved and saved and bought myself a really nice programmable window A/C unit for the following summer. And it never got above 90 degrees.

Good times. Good times.

We Interrupt This Program. . .

...because I've been distracted...

yeah, I've traded one video game fixation with another. It's purty. But it gives me bad dreams if I play too close to bedtime!

At least it doesn't make me want to sleep with a steak knife under my pillow like the psycho that lived next door to me in this Lawrence, Kansas duplex:

I'm off tomorrow, and after I spend most of my morning waiting for my windshield to be replaced, I'll have pretty much all day to relay the story. So you'll just have to wait.

A little. Bit. More.

Hold That Thought

The second installment of musing on past housing situations will have to wait. I ended up working about an hour late tonight and I've got a nasty headache. I'm tired and cranky (yeah, I know...what's new?), so your storytime will have to wait until I'm feeling cheeky enough to do it justice.

I have great news though...I just saved a TON of money on my car insurance.

No joke. I switched to AAA; I'm going to be saving almost $600/year for the same coverage I had under Progressive. Nice.

Memory Lane

One of the other things when I did while in Lawrence was visit my old apartments/houses.

This little stone dandy I shared with 3 other folks, Annika and John and a boy named Kerry. Then he moved out and was replaced by a real jerk whose name escapes me. Annika's folks owned the house. They were from Dubai and her mom told me my toe ring was inappropriate because it meant I was married. Except that I was wearing it wrong because there were supposed to be two, etc. etc. She was actually quite lovely about it, and now I have that little tidbit to dish out. I lived in the basement. Those two little tiny windows at the base of the house? That's me. There used to be a giant tree smack in the middle of the front yard. I wonder why they removed it?

Annika volunteered at a wildlife rehabilitation place, so we always had odd critters in the house--sickly squirrels, baby owls and bats, rabbits with broken legs. . . When I found an abandoned nest of Starlings, though, she told me that the rehab place wouldn't support them--apparently they are considered the cockroaches of the bird world. Or something equally disdained.

She did, however, offer to show me how to take care of them. She showed me how to use a paintbrush to feed and water them (watered down and mushed up dog food--but you really have to jam it down in there. It's. . .disturbing!!), and I took them to work with me every day for at least a week or two in order to feed them every two hours. These were baby baby birds!

When they started to fledge, we put them in a laundry basket and created a screen to place over the top of it. Eventually they got big enough that they could fly up and push the screen off of the basket, and they actually used to fly (hop/flap) around my room and return to the cage on their own. Soon after this we figured it was time to start the release process, so I'd take them out to that front porch and remove the lid from the basket. They'd hop up on the edge and have a look around, but for the first few times, they'd just as quickly hop back in. Soon enough, though, they ventured off the basket's edge and out to that now-missing tree.

For one of the babies, that was that. He (she?) never came back. Just sat in that tree and cried and cried. The other one sat for a few minutes and decided he just wasn't ready for that much of a challenge and came back to the "nest". I left the basket out for a while longer, and while he jumped up to the edge again to sit and ponder the wide world, he didn't fly off. I brought him back inside for the night and we tried again the next day. Maybe he missed his brother/sister, or maybe he'd just decided the time was right. Whatever happened in his little bird brain, he took off for that tree, sat for a few minutes, looked back at me (I swear!), and flew away.

Tomorrow: Apartment #2. . .The Psycho Next Door

gimmegimmegimmemoremoremore

Memory Lane

When I visit Kansas City, one of my primary destinations is always Lawrence, Kansas. I lived there off and on for 6 years or so, and it holds a lot of good memories for me. Plus, there's good eats and good shopping! While I missed visits to *both* Papa Keno's and La Familia, I did get to visit one of my very very favourite non-food places: Clinton Lake. I sent a photo/post from my iphone that day. I'm far too lazy to create a link at this moment...just scroll down a bit; it was only about 4 posts ago! I took a bunch of photos with the regular camera as well, and I love the green green green path, so I'm going to spam the rest of this post with some of those shots. Enjoy!

This is the stealthy trail. Off to the left there, going up that slight embankment. Just south of the dam, on the west side of the road.No marking on any map that I've ever seen. I couldn't even tell you how I know about it. It was very overgrown, which sort of made me happy in that sort of "it's my little secret" way...and kind of sad in that "no one else knows about this wonderful place" way.

This is actually on the way *out* of the trail--the entrance would be just 20 yards or so on the other side of that very sunny ridge. Sorry for the sunspots, but then again, I kinda like the feel of 'em.
This one, it's just a close up of the rocky top of the trail. It can be a bit challenging to get down without fallin on yer butt. And it's the primary reason I never tried to take my mountain bike on this trail. :)

Just look at all that green, will ya? it's just...mmmm.... Bit overwhelming. Sort of like trying to work all these photos into one post. Blogger is not being friendly about the entire process, so I'm going to leave it at this for now. Trust me, there will be more!

In Flight

Okay, I'm not actually *in* flight, as that would be both dangerous
and against the rules. I am, however, sitting in the Dallas airport,
awaiting my boarding call. If I may fess up to a most macabre facet
of my personality, I'll just say that I always check out my flying
companions, and wonder what it would be like to be stranded on a
remote island with them. Who would the leaders be? Who would cause
trouble? Who would try to steal my remaining protein bar, and my
bottle of water???

Yes, I'm ready for the new season of Lost.

And the plane? It's now ready for me! Next stop, Phoenix!

Sent from my iPhone

It's A Dirty Job. . .

I mowed *part* of the ginormous lawn at my parents' house today, and
this is what I have to show for it. Those are NOT tan lines--that, my
friends, is layer upon layer of dirt and grass and, well, hair (I
haven't shaved in... a week?). I imagine there is even a chigger or
three (thousand) in there somewhere. I was actually talking to
someone in Arizona a few weeks ago who had never heard of chiggers, if
you can believe it! Another person had heard of them, but had assumed
they were mythical critters. I wish! Before mowing, I was picking up
walnuts, and I'm certain I felt the little buggers creeping around and
munching on my ankles. Ahhh, green stuff! How easy it is to recall
your beauty, but completely forget the terrors harbored within!!

Well the upside of doing all this work is that I'll have a mighty
appetite for the all-good-things-injected smoked turkey we are having
tonight, not to mention the Mad Mad Mud Pie ice cream and homemade
cookies coming up a little later this evening!!

Current View

This is my current view, off the back deck of my parents' house. I
don't get good (any?) reception out here, so this will likely get to
the Internet *after* I've entered a blog from the computer proper. . .

Best seat in the house

This is the view I have right this second. I'm at Clinton Lake--one
of my favorite places in Lawrence. When I lived here, I frequently
brought my backpack, a journal, and much more hike-friendly shoes out
here for the day. The point off in the distance there is the very old
site of a very old
home. The foundation created a secluded and oddly mystic place for me
to sit and read or write for hours. There is always a good wind off
the lake, and the constant lapping of the water is so soothing-- even
mixed with the cacophony(sp?) of all the seabirds that have somehow
found their way here.
My best friend was good enough to lend me her car for the half day she
is at work, so I made my "all the places I've previously lived" tour
and came right out here. If I have time when I've gotten my fill
here, I'll hit Mass street, but for now I'm really content with the
sounds of the lake.

Mini Calzone Maker

When she told me that we were having mini calzones for dinner, I
assumed she meant that she had a mini calzone maker... This was not
what I had in mind.

Back east

I made a comment to a couple from Louisiana the other day that they
were from "back east", which they did not find nearly as amusing as I
did...but I still maintain that, relative to phoenix, it is indeed
east--and since I grew up in the general region, I can certainly
qualify that description with "back".

So now, at this very moment, I am Back East. I'm in my best friend's
guest room, thumbing out this blog entry on my phone just for the
challenge of it. We stopped on the way home from the airport for some
Taco Bueno and caught the second half of the Princess Bride. It's
already shaping up to be a great trip :D

It's nearly 11 here and everyone else is fast asleep. When in Rome...

Sent from my iPhone

'spearmintin

bear with me as I attempt to figure out this mobile blogging thing. yes, that's right! it's not enough that I neglect writing from the comfort of my own home. I want to compound the guilt I feel about not keeping up with the blog by enabling myself to blog from *anywhere*! :)

the photo of Bucket was supposed to have a line of text, which I do not see, so apparently there are kinks to work out. If things look a little whacky today and in the coming week, you now know why.

Witness: Clouds of DOOM

I don't recall which day this was, but here is my Cloudy Sky shot taken on the way to work recently. It's so rare to see a single cloud in the sky here, much less this leaden blanket...it was an absolute joy to witness. A bit bass ackwards, I know, but such is life.

And yeah, I got my email and phone linked up, so I should be able to post a few photos from the road to keep ya'll interested. And then of course there will hopefully be an album of sorts when I get back.

Hooray Vacation!

gear head

so, what does it mean that the first things I made sure were absolutely ready to go for my trip were my iPhone, the digital camera, and my DSlite? I've thought about what clothes to take, and even what book(s) to take, and tonight I bought some airport/plane snacks...but the first things actually packed up and fully ready to go with no tweaking were the electronics.

I'm not the hippie chick you used to know...but then again a lot of me still is. It's an odd amalgam I've turned out to be. Gimme my organic foods and none of that earth-killin beef, but I'll be damned if a day passes by that I don't engage in horrific abuses of electricity and airwave pollution. I'll happily soak in a patchouli scented bubble bath whilst I toil at the remaining unsolved Sudoku puzzles on my portable game system.

yeah, I said whilst. omghax! :P

Surprise!

You thought since I took two days off that I was gone for good, eh? Oh ye of little faith! I'm back with not much to say, except that I leave for Kansas City in less than 3 days and I'm SO excited. Thinking about all of the places I want to visit....La Familia, Papa Keno's, KCRF, Bloom Bath and Body (try as I might, I couldn't find a link!)...
And of course I'm excited about visiting my best friend and her hubby and Sweet V, and my folks. It will be lovely to be out in the sticks again, although I'll almost certainly be put to some sort of strenuous work by my father, whose sole delight in my visits is handing over a giant To Do list. I've tried to explain that these visits are my vacation time, but that doesn't seem to carry much weight. And besides, there is a sick sick part of me that actually likes those projects. I'm a tasker, so seeing something get crossed off a list really soothes a part of my soul that gets no relief in a life of retail. Also, my dad's not the mushy sort, so these projects are really the only quality father/daughter time we have. And, I usually learn something useful while doing them. So I'll whine and complain, and end up with blisters and a giant backache, but ultimately I'll look back and love the fact that I picked up 30 pounds of walnuts from the back yard, or flushed the gutters or helped patch a hole in one of the boats. Or something.
With any luck all that backbreaking labour will be offset with some time in the kitchen with my mom (and no, I don't mean cleaning out the pantry, mom!). We both love to cook/bake, so maybe we can whip up some goodies while I'm there. And of course, shopping. There are always fun little odd shops out in the middle of nowhere. I don't know how they stay in business, but I'm glad they do. And I'm glad my mom knows where they all are. And even though we've tried--and failed-- everytime I've seen her for the past three years, maybe *this* time, the knitting lessons will stick. :)

OMG 3 Days in Row!

Another lovely shot of yet more cacti, clouds and mountains. From the same jaunt as yesterday's photo--heck from the same perspective, almost identically. I really liked the way the clouds shaded some of the mountains. I like the way the clouds shade *anything* here, if you want to know the truth. A few weeks ago there was an absolutely glorious dark, rainy, cloudy day (I have a photo on my phone to prove it, but haven't managed to get my email set up and working on it yet), which I much bemoaned missing out on as I was headed into work. Far cry from the days when it only seemed to rain on--and ruin--my weekends. It's a topsy turvey world.

That's all I've really got to say for now. I've just dyed my hair, and I'm anxious to go look at it. Again. And in true Shanny fashion, I want to go start planning what I'm going to take/wear to KANSAS CITY! The land of GREEN. And TREES. With LEAVES! H'ray!

So I went for a drive last week on my day off. I had originally intended to actually *leave* the car and go for at least a short walk, but when I arrived at Lake Pleasant (roughly a 30 minute drive from the house--not really all that bad when I had always assumed a general dearth of water in the entire state), I realised that I didn't have the $5 required to actually enter the park. So I drove. And drove. It was an atypically cloudy day, and as I popped over one hill Iwas startled enough at the view to stop and snap a photo. The Lake, hidden by such hills (mts?), is to my right. I was able to sneak a tiny peek at one point in my drive, but it didn't really translate on the camera to much more than a streak of shiny blue, so I didn't take the photo. I'll go back sometime, cash inhand, and manage to take that walk by the water. And I'll bring you photo documentation lest you continue to believe, as I did, that there is no water in Arizona.

twig?

Since my writing has been less than regular, perhaps I should invent a term for those like me..the sporadic bloggers. No longer writing Web Logs, we now can only manage Web Twigs. Or Web Detritus.

My humour. Obtuse, I know.

So it's a (relatively) new month and it's nearly fall, so I'm going to give this being a regular blogger thing another go.

I've been in a fairly decent mood lately, what with all the bike riding and the looking forward to my fast approaching trip back to Kansas City and the 'rents. They go together, you see. Because although it's still hitting 90-100 degrees by 10am, I've been riding my bike again--all with the aim of getting a little shape back before my trip. My best friend and my parents love me, but I don't need them worrying about whether I'm going to singlehandedly put the all-you-can-eat food bars out of business when I come to town.

Besides, bike shorts tan lines rule and let me know where to put the tattoo.