Ok, I"m already going out of the box this Christmas and only making things for people. Good thing I'm unemployed, because it is very time-consuming (I'm not talking about the quicky crafts here). However, I know that no matter what Gas Monkey and I do or say, we will be getting Christmas presents. So here our a couple of gifts that we need. I would argue that it does not matter how many people get us these things, because we will end up using them.
Merut's list:
1. Beef Jerky (I just saw one of those Sasquatch Beef Jerky commercials. I don't get beef very often living with Gas Monkey and his "morals")
4. Any cooking staples, such as whole wheat flour, bread flour, olive oil, chicken breasts, ground turkey. This would easily be remedied by a simple gift certificate to any of the following: Sunflower Market, King Soopers, or Safeway
5. Diamonds . .. . just kidding
6. A Job - you'll be bumped up on my list for next year's Christmas. I'll put in a special word to Santa
7. Coupons - as in coupons for services performed by you
Gas Monkey's List (created without his input):
1. Boxers (large) - I am making it my special mission to make sure almost everybody gets him a package of boxers. He is still wearing some that are translucent, or have the band showing through the fabric. I want to take his old set and either wear them for my pjs or throw them away.
2. Coffee - unground, he likes organic, but if not, at least as dark as possible
3. A coffee mug - My mom got him a very nice mug one year, but he lost it. So, it should be stainless steel, but cheap, because he'll lose it
4. Socks
5. Drill bits - he has a very incomplete set, because he loses things. So don't buy him any, just go through your collection and find any spares
6. Some sort of Stain removal - for his shirts and coats. He has a small mouth after all. The dentist still uses kid's tools on him
7. Scissors - somehow "we" are losing those all the time too
8. Any sort of salty treat - because I deprive him
Ok, enjoy. Like I said, no pressure. Thanks!
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
Gas Monkey's Birthday and he turns OLD
My F.M.I.L (future mother in law, for future reference) and I are thinking of holding some sort of birthday party for Gas Monkey. He turns the scary 3-0 on the 19th of December. So does anybody have any ideas of what we should do for him? It will likely be at my house, but it is a little small for a lot of people, especially if nobody can go outside due to the weather (but we'll keep our fingers crossed). He does not want a fuss, but that is one birthday wish he won't get. Sorry pal. Instead we'll make him wear a birthday crown and sing to him in front of a cake (maybe in a creative shape like a boat or a dinosaur, or a piece of elephant poop). Oh this will be exciting.
Jumping Ship
WARNING: For the sake of your sanity, nobody need read the following post as it is admittedly whiny. I just had to vent, and my only outlet is the black hole that is the internet.
Woe is the day I had to move out of my parents house and start taking on my own bills. Even more, woe is the day I left Utah to come home to my family, friends, and unemployment. Luckily, I had enough money saved to help me pay my bills for September and October. My parents paid my bills for my birthday. Now I'm in the worst month of the year to be unemployed, having bills to pay, and Christmas presents to buy. Not to mention a new mortgage payment.
Today the recycling guy pointed out to me that two of the tires on my Suburu are flat. They were leaking less than a month ago, and I filled them with air. Now they are leaking again. So . . . what do I do? I'd rather pay health insurance and my energy bill than buy new tires. I don't need my car now, I probably will when (and IF) I find a job. So much for being in the holiday spirit.
Staying home everyday being pressed by these financial matters is very depressing. While I wanted to stay home for awhile (as in not working in the field in another state), I think I might have to take another field job, or least start applying to them, just to pay the bills. I wanted to wait until next March/April, but I don't know if I have a choice. Here are some other things I'm doing to save money.
1. Not buying anything for Christmas, so expect some lovely homemade gifts and Merut coupons.
2. Spending a lot of time in the kitchen making things completely from scratch, like vegetable stock, cooking and freezing dried beans, making bread, making pasta, making tortilla chips, pretty much anything I can think of. Not eating meat every night, and avoiding buying any prepackaged food like chips, juice, candy, cookies, crackers, etc. I'm desperately trying to avoid the ramen noodle diet
3. Not eating out, which we have maintained since we moved in. Although we lapse once a week.
4. Going to the library. I know this seems obvious, but I have an addiction to bookstores. But I don't have the money or the storage for more books (I had to donate about 1/3 of my personal library already).
5. Not getting my oil changed, which means I don't drive me car very often
6. My house is always at 60 degrees. Any lower and my jaw sets very tightly
7. A major decrease in liquor
8. Avoiding taking Corin to the vet for his annual exam. I'm a bad pet owner. But the brat is driving me crazy with his attention-grabbing antics, so I'm assuming he's healthy. And he's still up-to-date with his rabies shots.
I'm sure there is more, but so be it. It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't spend most of my day in complete isolation. Books, internet, tv, and cooking only do so much to maintain sanity.
Currently I am reading A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving, but also In the Heart of the Sea, by Nathaniel Philbrick. Heart of the Sea is about the tragedy of the Essex, where in 1921 a whaling ship was sunk by a sperm whale, and the crew was set out to sea long enough for them to go crazy and begin sacrificing each other so they'd have something to eat. It is pretty metaphorical for how I feel lately, like I'm stranded at sea with only my own company to keep. And slowly nothing to eat or drink. I'll have to wait until a Job Vessel comes to my rescue before I jump ship.
But don't worry. I know I'm not alone and my situation is not unique. I'm not seriously depressed. Just weary and worried. Don't start planning an intervention or anything.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
What Idiot Contractor . . .
. . . Puts tiny white tiles with white grout in a bathroom floor? Obviously one who has never had to clean it. Seriously. It may look good up front, but it sucks to clean. The cleaning is made ten times worse by the fact that the contractors walked around with grout on their feet, and did not bother to clean it up. So translation: no matter what I do, how long I scrub, I cannot get that floor looking clean. So I have given Gas Monkey a few choices on remedying the situation.
1. He can tear out the floor and put in a new one (I give this to him as an option so he can see how much more reasonable the other two are).
2. He can re-grout the floor with something darker, like a tan or a gray. At least that way it will look better.
3. He can clean the base of the toilet after every time he pees, and be responsible for cleaning that bathroom forever. (another option to make his see the reasonableness of just re-grouting. And somehow he puts up with me.)
Which would you choose?
1. He can tear out the floor and put in a new one (I give this to him as an option so he can see how much more reasonable the other two are).
2. He can re-grout the floor with something darker, like a tan or a gray. At least that way it will look better.
3. He can clean the base of the toilet after every time he pees, and be responsible for cleaning that bathroom forever. (another option to make his see the reasonableness of just re-grouting. And somehow he puts up with me.)
Which would you choose?
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Wedding Conditions
Ok, I know I've gotten tons of questions about my pending nuptials. However, we've been buying a house, so it hasn't been a priority. Before I begin this list, I'd like to say that I don't really want a wedding. Gas Monkey does not want a wedding. I would rather get to use the money to travel to Europe or Asia or Australia or Africa for a couple of weeks. I know that if I get a wedding, I won't get to have my honeymoon. But without a wedding I won't get a honeymoon either. So either way, I'm doing this to make other people happy (and Gas Monkey agrees, but on a stronger level). So, if I have to put on a show for other people, I am not going to be a puppet. Here are my conditions. I'm sorry this is a very abrasive blog, I'm not intending to offend anybody. It is just the way it is.
1. We don't have a date. But probably in August or September or next year.
2. It will be in Colorado. In the mountains, and outside (I'd like to do Estes Park, Durango, or another place that has meaning to us. But it will depend on the expense).
3. I don't want to spend more than $10,000, period. It is not the greatest moment in our lives, but the beginning of it. No reason to be in debt for a long time or put that kind of burden on my parents.
4. No cake. I don't think the ritual has a lot of meaning. There is always one of two outcomes. If you throw the cake in the face it is predictable. If you don't, you're stuck up. If anybody wants a cake that bad, they can pay for it. I'd rather bob for apples.
5. No God. If you wanted a religious ceremony, perhaps said people should have taken us to church a few times. Or just read the Bible to us. Either way, no religious ceremony.
6. Family needs to get along. I'd love for all three families to be able to go to the reception dinner, sit at the same table, and have small talk, even if it is just about the weather. This is a marriage of not just Gas Monkey and I, but of our families. My family is too small to act as a buffer. I know this is not a whole lot to ask. Gas Monkey and I don't want to worry about other family drama at our union.
7. No destination wedding. I don't want to spend my honeymoon with family. And I don't want to place that kind of financial burden on other people.
8. I hate dress shopping (and shopping in general), but I know it must be done.
9. Small, maybe 75 guests.
10. No dancing. Gas Monkey and I hate dancing. And we can't agree on music.
11. No sitting around making small talk the whole event. I want to do something active, like play cards or softball. I realize this is not plausible. However, I'll take any suggestions that can make it fun, active, and still represent us.
12. Ultimately, to have fun. Like real fun. I hate being the center of attention. I need to be distracted.
13. Please note: I am not a party-planning kind of girl. I'm not the dream-wedding kind of girl. I hate the idea of holding a wedding so everybody can criticize the details. In the end, I don't care what flower arrangements, or what kind of dress I'm wearing, or what my bridesmaids are wearing (they are going to be given a color. Then I'll say, "go forth and be successful").
14. I am not traditional. So don't expect me to be.
15. Gas Monkey is required to have an active role in the planning. If I have to do it and have opinions, then so does he. End of question.
16. There will be no bride's side and groom's side. It will be first come first serve, without any separation.
17. Since it will be a small wedding, the guest list will include our friends (i.e. no friends of our parents/grandparents that we have never met), immediate family, aunts/uncles (and spouses), cousins, grandparents, and in my case great grandparents. But this is not a family reunion. So don't expect it to be. 75 guests remember.
18. I want to have a friend marry us (since there will be no priest). I think it should be one of Gas Monkey's friends, or I'm a supporter of having B do it (not because she is family, but because she is a close family friend, but not a parent, that has helped us out from the beginning), but Gas Monkey needs to help make this decision.
As soon as I have provided acceptable solutions to these conditions then we will seriously begin planning. Gas Monkey feels he is just there for the show. He will be contributing, and he will be a part of of the planning. He's not just going to show up the day of. After all, he initiated the whole thing by claiming to want to be with me forever. And it would be sad to have a husband who got one of his degrees at the Art Institute, but couldn't come up with any ideas.
Now I hope I haven't offended anyone. I realize some of these conditions are hard to swallow. Just remember it is our wedding, not yours. If Gas Monkey has preferences contradicting mine, then I will be willing to compromise. Luckily I have a mother who is very supportive and creative. She is already helping me figure out the details to my liking. But I still need help finding happy solutions. Any suggestions?
1. We don't have a date. But probably in August or September or next year.
2. It will be in Colorado. In the mountains, and outside (I'd like to do Estes Park, Durango, or another place that has meaning to us. But it will depend on the expense).
3. I don't want to spend more than $10,000, period. It is not the greatest moment in our lives, but the beginning of it. No reason to be in debt for a long time or put that kind of burden on my parents.
4. No cake. I don't think the ritual has a lot of meaning. There is always one of two outcomes. If you throw the cake in the face it is predictable. If you don't, you're stuck up. If anybody wants a cake that bad, they can pay for it. I'd rather bob for apples.
5. No God. If you wanted a religious ceremony, perhaps said people should have taken us to church a few times. Or just read the Bible to us. Either way, no religious ceremony.
6. Family needs to get along. I'd love for all three families to be able to go to the reception dinner, sit at the same table, and have small talk, even if it is just about the weather. This is a marriage of not just Gas Monkey and I, but of our families. My family is too small to act as a buffer. I know this is not a whole lot to ask. Gas Monkey and I don't want to worry about other family drama at our union.
7. No destination wedding. I don't want to spend my honeymoon with family. And I don't want to place that kind of financial burden on other people.
8. I hate dress shopping (and shopping in general), but I know it must be done.
9. Small, maybe 75 guests.
10. No dancing. Gas Monkey and I hate dancing. And we can't agree on music.
11. No sitting around making small talk the whole event. I want to do something active, like play cards or softball. I realize this is not plausible. However, I'll take any suggestions that can make it fun, active, and still represent us.
12. Ultimately, to have fun. Like real fun. I hate being the center of attention. I need to be distracted.
13. Please note: I am not a party-planning kind of girl. I'm not the dream-wedding kind of girl. I hate the idea of holding a wedding so everybody can criticize the details. In the end, I don't care what flower arrangements, or what kind of dress I'm wearing, or what my bridesmaids are wearing (they are going to be given a color. Then I'll say, "go forth and be successful").
14. I am not traditional. So don't expect me to be.
15. Gas Monkey is required to have an active role in the planning. If I have to do it and have opinions, then so does he. End of question.
16. There will be no bride's side and groom's side. It will be first come first serve, without any separation.
17. Since it will be a small wedding, the guest list will include our friends (i.e. no friends of our parents/grandparents that we have never met), immediate family, aunts/uncles (and spouses), cousins, grandparents, and in my case great grandparents. But this is not a family reunion. So don't expect it to be. 75 guests remember.
18. I want to have a friend marry us (since there will be no priest). I think it should be one of Gas Monkey's friends, or I'm a supporter of having B do it (not because she is family, but because she is a close family friend, but not a parent, that has helped us out from the beginning), but Gas Monkey needs to help make this decision.
As soon as I have provided acceptable solutions to these conditions then we will seriously begin planning. Gas Monkey feels he is just there for the show. He will be contributing, and he will be a part of of the planning. He's not just going to show up the day of. After all, he initiated the whole thing by claiming to want to be with me forever. And it would be sad to have a husband who got one of his degrees at the Art Institute, but couldn't come up with any ideas.
Now I hope I haven't offended anyone. I realize some of these conditions are hard to swallow. Just remember it is our wedding, not yours. If Gas Monkey has preferences contradicting mine, then I will be willing to compromise. Luckily I have a mother who is very supportive and creative. She is already helping me figure out the details to my liking. But I still need help finding happy solutions. Any suggestions?
Friday, November 20, 2009
Anybody know how to skin a cat?
And as a side note, I think the eerie inconsistencies in the photo are proof of the little boy that sleeps in the crawl space.
Me vs. the Cats
I am losing and not happy about it (yeah, I'm not winning many battles here). Corin has always enjoyed knocking things off counters, nightstands, coffee tables, etc. However, he has taking a passing interest and developed an all out profession. Our cheap alarm clock from Walmart went from working pretty normal, to being extremely quiet, to now screeching in a fingers-on-the-chalkboard sort of way.
The next lovely behavioural development - if there is a glass of anything, he cannot resist knocking it over. Here's the scene. Corin tentatively moves his paw towards the alluring glass of water, in slow motion just to give us enough time to notice, and as soon as we shriek in protest, the glass is on it's side and water/beer/wine/milk/juice is seeping into our carpets or running across the floor. And then Corin looks at us, "What? You didn't think that was fun too?"
While I have learned to babysit my drinks, and have wrapped the alarm clock cord around my bed lamp, the real clincher is the kitchen counters. Corin and Carson have always jumped on the counters, but only in passing. Now, if I leave so much as a fork in the sink, moments later I'll hear a distinct, urgent licking sound coming from the kitchen. I carry my squirt bottle with me whenever I'm eating, but the cats would rather risk it. As soon as they know they've been caught, they squint their eyes, but in a stubborn act of defiance, do not jump off the counter. They are obviously thinking, "Squirt me, it's worth it. If I survive I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Chocolate cake yum yums."
I don't want to be that person who has cats jump on the counter. It's gross. I have to wash the counters over and over to make sure I get all the hair off. This has to be why cat ladies go crazy. As of right now, the probability of the cats surviving the winter decreases ever so slightly with each passing lick of the counter (and as I write this I hear a set of paws contentedly land on the tile floor behind me). I think I might cook Kung-Pao Cat for dinner.
The next lovely behavioural development - if there is a glass of anything, he cannot resist knocking it over. Here's the scene. Corin tentatively moves his paw towards the alluring glass of water, in slow motion just to give us enough time to notice, and as soon as we shriek in protest, the glass is on it's side and water/beer/wine/milk/juice is seeping into our carpets or running across the floor. And then Corin looks at us, "What? You didn't think that was fun too?"
While I have learned to babysit my drinks, and have wrapped the alarm clock cord around my bed lamp, the real clincher is the kitchen counters. Corin and Carson have always jumped on the counters, but only in passing. Now, if I leave so much as a fork in the sink, moments later I'll hear a distinct, urgent licking sound coming from the kitchen. I carry my squirt bottle with me whenever I'm eating, but the cats would rather risk it. As soon as they know they've been caught, they squint their eyes, but in a stubborn act of defiance, do not jump off the counter. They are obviously thinking, "Squirt me, it's worth it. If I survive I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Chocolate cake yum yums."
I don't want to be that person who has cats jump on the counter. It's gross. I have to wash the counters over and over to make sure I get all the hair off. This has to be why cat ladies go crazy. As of right now, the probability of the cats surviving the winter decreases ever so slightly with each passing lick of the counter (and as I write this I hear a set of paws contentedly land on the tile floor behind me). I think I might cook Kung-Pao Cat for dinner.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Me vs. Fried Spicy Chicken Sandwiches
And the winner is . . . almost always the fried spicy chicken sandwich. Not that I'm the one eating them, but I usually lose this battle when it comes to Gas Monkey (another reason why he is so gassy).
Ever since I've been home, I've become overly concerned with what we are eating. Let me correct that, with what Gas Monkey has been eating. I am young and have a whole life to reverse the negative effects of my eating habits. Gas Monkey, on the other hand, is almost 30, which means his life is theoretically half-way over (though I will be optimistic and declare my man will live into his nineties, if he starts taking care of his heart, which he still persists to ignore).
Since I came home from Utah, I have been relishing the ability to actually cook. And since I am still unemployed (we'll get to that another day), and most days practically despondent with the whole sick-of-being-home sickness, the highlight of my day, or more like the purpose of my existence, from the moment I get up until the time to do dishes, is to plan and execute a night's dinner. The ultimate goal is to enjoy a good meal and provide leftovers for Gas Monkey to eat at work, so he does not end up buying three spicy fried chicken sandwiches which make him gassy. I usually spend about 2 hours actually physically making dinner . . . from scratch. No mixes, no shortcuts for me. I have nothing better to do than waste hours of my life making homemade pasta that Gas Monkey appreciates briefly and then goes on to recollect his grandma's amazing homemade pasta (translation: my pasta is almost as good as Grandma's).
I cook dinner almost every night. For example, this past month I have made chili, homemade meatballs with homemade pasta and homemade french bread (an all day ordeal), stuffed peppers, lemon chicken, pumpkin cookies (not for dinner), falafel from scratch, pork tenderloin, and his favorite, tequila-lime chicken. And I made my first successful batch of homemade white bread without using my bread machine. Take that. Still, after all my gourmet dinners, the boy chooses to eat spicy fried chicken sandwiches. Why?
Another issue I take with Gas Monkey. He does not ever, and I mean ever, drink water. Water! He'll drink coffee in the morning, 100% sugar-free grapefruit juice (and he goes through a gallon every couple of days . . . gross) in the afternoons, and beer in the evening. So the new ritual. I make him drink a very large glass of water every night before bed. He does it, but he doesn't like it. And while he drinks it, I think to myself, "what a controlling b$tch I am." But it is good for him.
Being home has made me lose my sense of humour. But thank you Spanky Bottoms for working me down and get me out of the house. You don't know how much I need it.
So if you're ever wondering what restaurant or fast food place has the best fried chicken sandwiches (although he'll sometimes eat grilled ones to be "healthy"), ask Gas Monkey. He is a bona fide connoisseur.
Ever since I've been home, I've become overly concerned with what we are eating. Let me correct that, with what Gas Monkey has been eating. I am young and have a whole life to reverse the negative effects of my eating habits. Gas Monkey, on the other hand, is almost 30, which means his life is theoretically half-way over (though I will be optimistic and declare my man will live into his nineties, if he starts taking care of his heart, which he still persists to ignore).
Since I came home from Utah, I have been relishing the ability to actually cook. And since I am still unemployed (we'll get to that another day), and most days practically despondent with the whole sick-of-being-home sickness, the highlight of my day, or more like the purpose of my existence, from the moment I get up until the time to do dishes, is to plan and execute a night's dinner. The ultimate goal is to enjoy a good meal and provide leftovers for Gas Monkey to eat at work, so he does not end up buying three spicy fried chicken sandwiches which make him gassy. I usually spend about 2 hours actually physically making dinner . . . from scratch. No mixes, no shortcuts for me. I have nothing better to do than waste hours of my life making homemade pasta that Gas Monkey appreciates briefly and then goes on to recollect his grandma's amazing homemade pasta (translation: my pasta is almost as good as Grandma's).
I cook dinner almost every night. For example, this past month I have made chili, homemade meatballs with homemade pasta and homemade french bread (an all day ordeal), stuffed peppers, lemon chicken, pumpkin cookies (not for dinner), falafel from scratch, pork tenderloin, and his favorite, tequila-lime chicken. And I made my first successful batch of homemade white bread without using my bread machine. Take that. Still, after all my gourmet dinners, the boy chooses to eat spicy fried chicken sandwiches. Why?
Another issue I take with Gas Monkey. He does not ever, and I mean ever, drink water. Water! He'll drink coffee in the morning, 100% sugar-free grapefruit juice (and he goes through a gallon every couple of days . . . gross) in the afternoons, and beer in the evening. So the new ritual. I make him drink a very large glass of water every night before bed. He does it, but he doesn't like it. And while he drinks it, I think to myself, "what a controlling b$tch I am." But it is good for him.
Being home has made me lose my sense of humour. But thank you Spanky Bottoms for working me down and get me out of the house. You don't know how much I need it.
So if you're ever wondering what restaurant or fast food place has the best fried chicken sandwiches (although he'll sometimes eat grilled ones to be "healthy"), ask Gas Monkey. He is a bona fide connoisseur.
Monday, November 9, 2009
The Little Boy that Sleeps in the Crawl Space
Gas Monkey and I have been living at our new house for about two weeks, and we finally have internet. Phew. I'm so behind on updates, someday I'll pick up on what you've been missing. But for now, let me describe our "friend."
Our house was originally built in 1953. So it is almost 60 years old. Occasionally strange things happen. First, I used the garbage disposal, and something metal was in it. I had been using the dishwasher with no problems for about a week. I reached my hand in, grappled around and found a small screw. I threw the screw away. The next day, I turned on the garbage disposal, and something metal was in it again! So I reached my hand in, grappled around, and pulled out, yup you guessed it, a screw. I threw it away. The next day I woke up, and went into the kitchen to clean it up. I could not find the dishcloth. I briefly thought about looking in the hamper, but I knew that was giving Gas Monkey just a little too much credit. What would be the next logical place? I know! The garbage disposal. I gingerly looked down the drain, and surprise surprise, there was the dishcloth. (I realize I have a cat that likes to knock things off of counters and tables, but for the sake of novelty, we'll say it was a little "spooky." And as I wrote that last sentence, Corin knocked over an almost empty glass of milk on the counter, just to prove his point.)
Later that night, Gas Monkey and I filled the dishwasher (but left it off because it was not full) and then went outside. When we came back inside, the dishwasher was inexplicably on! Around this time I began calling any unexplained occurrence a result of the little boy that sleeps in the crawl space, since Gas Monkey found a toy horse below the house. So we blamed it on the little boy.
Finally, it was Halloween. I made my scarecrow, carved my pumpkin, and had my candy all ready by the front door. The doorbell rang. I sprang into action, opened the door, but there was no one there. What kind of brat prefers tricks to treats on Halloween? I mean come on. Throughout the rest of the night, little kids would come, and every so often the doorbell would ring and nobody would be there. At first we both thought it was a doorbell ditcher. But it went on for five hours, and we never saw anybody running away. When we turned our light off because we were out of candy, the mysterious doorbell ditcher disappeared.
It has been a week since Halloween. The little boy that sleeps in the crawl space still doorbell ditches me every now and then. Other than that, lately he has been a very good little boy.
Our house was originally built in 1953. So it is almost 60 years old. Occasionally strange things happen. First, I used the garbage disposal, and something metal was in it. I had been using the dishwasher with no problems for about a week. I reached my hand in, grappled around and found a small screw. I threw the screw away. The next day, I turned on the garbage disposal, and something metal was in it again! So I reached my hand in, grappled around, and pulled out, yup you guessed it, a screw. I threw it away. The next day I woke up, and went into the kitchen to clean it up. I could not find the dishcloth. I briefly thought about looking in the hamper, but I knew that was giving Gas Monkey just a little too much credit. What would be the next logical place? I know! The garbage disposal. I gingerly looked down the drain, and surprise surprise, there was the dishcloth. (I realize I have a cat that likes to knock things off of counters and tables, but for the sake of novelty, we'll say it was a little "spooky." And as I wrote that last sentence, Corin knocked over an almost empty glass of milk on the counter, just to prove his point.)
Later that night, Gas Monkey and I filled the dishwasher (but left it off because it was not full) and then went outside. When we came back inside, the dishwasher was inexplicably on! Around this time I began calling any unexplained occurrence a result of the little boy that sleeps in the crawl space, since Gas Monkey found a toy horse below the house. So we blamed it on the little boy.
Finally, it was Halloween. I made my scarecrow, carved my pumpkin, and had my candy all ready by the front door. The doorbell rang. I sprang into action, opened the door, but there was no one there. What kind of brat prefers tricks to treats on Halloween? I mean come on. Throughout the rest of the night, little kids would come, and every so often the doorbell would ring and nobody would be there. At first we both thought it was a doorbell ditcher. But it went on for five hours, and we never saw anybody running away. When we turned our light off because we were out of candy, the mysterious doorbell ditcher disappeared.
It has been a week since Halloween. The little boy that sleeps in the crawl space still doorbell ditches me every now and then. Other than that, lately he has been a very good little boy.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Moving and other nonsense
Ok, I'll admit it. I've been horribly neglecting my "fan base." That means you, although "fan" may be too strong of a word. These past couple of weeks has been a chaotic mess of packing, garage sales, signing contracts, doing walk-thrus, having guest, and finally moving, and now unpacking. As soon as I get internet in my home (and don't have to sit next to a guy with horribly bad breath in the public library) I will become much more diligent. Until then, I may be off the internet for about a week or a week and a half.
We officially moved everything last Friday. It is now Monday, and it still looks as if we just moved in hours ago. I'm going to blame this on Gas Monkey's insistence on giving himself new projects, therefore postponing the necessarily unpleasant unpacking process. I.e. the boy spent eight hours installing an on-demand water heater (I've never seen the boy's face quite light up with that degree of happiness until after he successfully installed it and took his first hot shower. He was glowing with pride, and probably pain after sitting on his knees in the crawl-space for that long). Ok, I thought to myself, that's good. We needed a water heater. We can unpack on Sunday. Alas, it was not to be. We spent two hours at the man palace that is Home Depot. We bought numerous pieces so Gas Monkey could insulate the new copper pipes, put in a new air filter, and install, yes install, cable and internet in every room. Can you guess where this is going? Yeah, no unpacking yesterday either.
Gas Monkey let me cut the holes in the drywall, cause I'm tough and precise like that (although not too precise since I nicked a wire, although the power was off). Then, since Gas Monkey is precise, he attempted to drill a hole up through the crawl space into the wall in the living room. Apparently he is not so precise, since we now have a 1/4 inch hole through the hard wood in one of the closets. But, after 5 tries, and only one visible error, we managed to wire the living room. So yay! Now, I get to spend most of the day at home, without internet or tv (for about a week) at home without a book to read (since I can't justify spending $10 on the next Twilight installment, and have to wait about a week or two for any book I want to come in through the library. So, I'm bored. And I have a lot of work to do at home, but I like to procrastinate as well, which is why I am here at the library, writing this lengthy update. It will not happen again for awhile. I will send out change of address forms later.
When I get internet, I will describe in the most delightful of details, the garage sale and all of our customers. It was an awesome experience from beginning to end.
We officially moved everything last Friday. It is now Monday, and it still looks as if we just moved in hours ago. I'm going to blame this on Gas Monkey's insistence on giving himself new projects, therefore postponing the necessarily unpleasant unpacking process. I.e. the boy spent eight hours installing an on-demand water heater (I've never seen the boy's face quite light up with that degree of happiness until after he successfully installed it and took his first hot shower. He was glowing with pride, and probably pain after sitting on his knees in the crawl-space for that long). Ok, I thought to myself, that's good. We needed a water heater. We can unpack on Sunday. Alas, it was not to be. We spent two hours at the man palace that is Home Depot. We bought numerous pieces so Gas Monkey could insulate the new copper pipes, put in a new air filter, and install, yes install, cable and internet in every room. Can you guess where this is going? Yeah, no unpacking yesterday either.
Gas Monkey let me cut the holes in the drywall, cause I'm tough and precise like that (although not too precise since I nicked a wire, although the power was off). Then, since Gas Monkey is precise, he attempted to drill a hole up through the crawl space into the wall in the living room. Apparently he is not so precise, since we now have a 1/4 inch hole through the hard wood in one of the closets. But, after 5 tries, and only one visible error, we managed to wire the living room. So yay! Now, I get to spend most of the day at home, without internet or tv (for about a week) at home without a book to read (since I can't justify spending $10 on the next Twilight installment, and have to wait about a week or two for any book I want to come in through the library. So, I'm bored. And I have a lot of work to do at home, but I like to procrastinate as well, which is why I am here at the library, writing this lengthy update. It will not happen again for awhile. I will send out change of address forms later.
When I get internet, I will describe in the most delightful of details, the garage sale and all of our customers. It was an awesome experience from beginning to end.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Cereal Wars
Ok, I know I haven't been so diligent with my posting. Here is the most recent situation. I was frustrated today because our pantry was full. To my surprise (and horror), there were five nearly empty boxes of cereal. I don't eat cereal. Obviously, Gas Monkey bought cereal, would eat it until there were only a few pieces left, and then leave the box in the pantry, because throwing it away would be oh too simple. So five boxes with only 1/4 cup of cereal in each. So I pulled the boxes out of the pantry, determined to make a point. Then Gas Monkey came home. He was hungry for dinner. So I said, "We have a problem." While he waited for the problem to speak itself, I carried the five boxes to the living room, and plopped them in front of the couch (he was watching the Rockies game 4 playoff game). Instead of him taking them to the recycling, he grabs the nearest one and starts munching. "Here," I said, "let me make this easier." So I took all the boxes back to the kitchen, grabbed a bowl, and filled it up. "Dinner."
At least this is further proof about how strong our relationship is. I get slightly annoyed with Gas Monkey for being "trash lazy." I tried to emphasize the importance of the situation. He retaliated. So I retaliated. Now he is eating mixed cereal (maybe up to a year old), and the boxes are now siting on my clean counter, instead of the recycle bin . . . so I lose again, but at least I am slightly entertained. And don't worry, I'll still make him dinner. That is, if he stops loudly crunching his cereal to various Rockies' chants. Although it does make me wonder if all my gourmet dinners are a waste of time and effort.Thursday, October 1, 2009
Idiot that I am
So here I am, 9:30 a.m. A whopping half an hour before B shows up to take me to her house to take more pictures of her stuff. I have been up since 7:30, and have only managed to clean the basement. Gas Monkey's dad is coming today, hence the whole "me-getting-up-early-to-clean" freak scenario. I am way behind and a tad grumpy. I have not even started the main floor or taken a shower. Whatever I don't get done before B arrives, may not get done before Gas Monkey's dad comes over. Hence the grumpy my-house-has-gone-batshit-and-I-don't-want-to-be-up-this-early-cleaning-it-and-I'm-almost-out-of-time-so-I-think-I-should-write-a-blog attitude. But that is not why I am writing.
B has so graciously given us this older vacuum cleaner from either the 80s or 90s (hard to tell). We love love love this vacuum cleaner. It picks up everything, including the piles of cat hair that always seems to be accumulating around our house, no matter how often we vacuum. The other fantastic thing about this vacuum cleaner, when it breaks, you can fix it! Don't be too jealous now. After all, such vacuum cleaners are not made anymore. Let me demonstrate the power of this vacuum cleaner with an excerpt from my morning (and I know by now you are in awe that a blog about a nondescript vacuum cleaner could be this long).
First, I was trying to vacuum the bathroom mats in the basement. Sure enough, as always happens, it sucks up the corner, and before I can remedy the situation, the brush stops working. Not getting too excited until I assess the damage, I unplug the vacuum cleaner, sit on the floor and try to figure out how to open it. Opening it involves a screwdriver, which is entirely too much work. Hoping the vacuum just overheated, I let it sit in peace for 15 minutes. I plug it back in and nothing happens. Around this time, numerous expletives beginning with an "s" stream out of my mouth, gradually turning into a fury of "f" words. Hint: "fudge" is not one of the words. I look around. The basement floor is covered in random bits of crap from all of Gas Monkey's numerous projects. I go upstairs, find the manual (thank god we still have the manual) and read through. To my delight, there is a "reset" button! Problem solved.
Next, (to answer your question, yes, this story continues) I vacuum the stairs. As I reach the top of the stairs, I pick up the head of the vacuum (it is one of those two part ones), and as I am sticking it on the main landing, to my horror, it sucks up my toes!!!!!! I repeat, this vacuum cleaner is so powerful it jammed itself with my toes, which makes me wonder if my toes are too long. I try to pull said toes out of the vacuum, but it won't let them go. Luckily, I am right next to the power cord. With a grimace I reach over and pull the plug. The brush stops. Problem being, my toes are still jammed in the vacuum cleaner. With an even larger grimace, I pull on my toes, and slowly turn the brush until they are free. And that is my story.
The irony: the vaccum cleaner protects itself from jamming, and managed to stop itself when the flimsy, lifeless rug was caught. A rather ingenious design. However, it did not stop when a person's extremities were caught. Maybe I should have broken a couple of toes so I could have sued them for big money. Then I could be the person behind a new warning label saying "Warning: Vacuum cleaner not intended for cleaning toes."
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
I've Created a Monster!!!!
Yesterday, I spent a lot of time going through B's inventory of items to sell, doing more research, and posting some of the items on Ebay. I'm holding out hope for ebay, because Gas Monkey and I think this is her best option.
Rummaging around our stuff, I found the baseball/basketball cards that Gas Monkey thinks are worth something. So I started going through them, card by card. Most of them are only worth $1. I did manage to find one that seemed to be worth some money, but it isn't really selling well online.
Here's the monster situation. Let me just remind everybody, when Gas Monkey focuses on a project, it is nearly impossibly to draw him away from it. Gas Monkey came home. Let me just state, our focus right now should not be on selling baseball cards. We need to finish going through our stuff, and putting it into sell, give-away, or keep piles. However, when Gas Monkey came home, I foolishly told him I was having a hard time finding any cards of value. So the boy grabbed his collection, and starts pointing out cards.
"This one used to be worth $50, how much is it now?" he'd ask.
Dutifully, with extreme skepticism, I type in the card online. "$1."
"What?! What about this one? It's a David Robinson rookie card. That has to be worth a lot."
"Nope, $2."
We continued to play this game for an hour. Finally I gave up in exasperation. For the rest of the night, Gas Monkey enthusiastically searched his collection for cards that are still worth something. No luck. A few times the card has a lot of value, but everybody who has it is selling it for $2, unsuccessfully. It is really hard for Gas Monkey to accept that his collection, which he spent a very pretty penny on over time, has failed him. Poor boy. He's in denial.
The problem is, he is now temporarily obsessed with searching through his cards, when frankly, we have a lot of other stuff we need to do. His dad is coming down tomorrow. Our condo is a disaster. What to do, what to do? At least I know Gas Monkey will pull through at the last minute.
Rummaging around our stuff, I found the baseball/basketball cards that Gas Monkey thinks are worth something. So I started going through them, card by card. Most of them are only worth $1. I did manage to find one that seemed to be worth some money, but it isn't really selling well online.
Here's the monster situation. Let me just remind everybody, when Gas Monkey focuses on a project, it is nearly impossibly to draw him away from it. Gas Monkey came home. Let me just state, our focus right now should not be on selling baseball cards. We need to finish going through our stuff, and putting it into sell, give-away, or keep piles. However, when Gas Monkey came home, I foolishly told him I was having a hard time finding any cards of value. So the boy grabbed his collection, and starts pointing out cards.
"This one used to be worth $50, how much is it now?" he'd ask.
Dutifully, with extreme skepticism, I type in the card online. "$1."
"What?! What about this one? It's a David Robinson rookie card. That has to be worth a lot."
"Nope, $2."
We continued to play this game for an hour. Finally I gave up in exasperation. For the rest of the night, Gas Monkey enthusiastically searched his collection for cards that are still worth something. No luck. A few times the card has a lot of value, but everybody who has it is selling it for $2, unsuccessfully. It is really hard for Gas Monkey to accept that his collection, which he spent a very pretty penny on over time, has failed him. Poor boy. He's in denial.
The problem is, he is now temporarily obsessed with searching through his cards, when frankly, we have a lot of other stuff we need to do. His dad is coming down tomorrow. Our condo is a disaster. What to do, what to do? At least I know Gas Monkey will pull through at the last minute.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Awesome Bat Photos
This link below is to some pretty cool pictures of bats in flight taken in the U.K. (I think). If you've never tried to take pictures of bats in flight, you'll never know just how hard it is. First of all, they are fast. Then, they can turn on a dime. Finally, it is dark. This guy did a remarkable job. The best part is the reflection in the water.
Batshit!!!!!
Hey now, I'm not cussing. I would never do such a thing. Apparently the word, "batshit", is officially a word. It was just put in the Oxford English Dictionary. It means to go crazy, similar to "batty." However, this still gives bats a bad rap. They are not crazy. If it comes down to "batshit" vs. "apeshit" in my daily jargon, I think I will still prefer to use "apeshit." Although I am not confident that apeshit is officially a word. Which do you prefer?
House Update #2
Yesterday we received our first appraisal. Chase bank, our lender, is requiring two appraisals, so we are still waiting on the second one. This second appraisal came back $8,000 less than the price we agreed to pay. So, on the one hand we will be taking out a smaller loan. That is good for us. On the other hand, we may have to put down an additional $3-4,000 down, sort of as a reimbursement for the closing costs the seller agreed to pay. It is confusing, even to me. Basically, the seller is going to say the closing costs he is paying is a part of the value of the house, in order so he can get a little more money. Gas Monkey is not too worried about it. In fact, he is happy about it. His dad is coming down later this week, and he will be able to look at the house and give us approval. . . hopefully. Anyways, we still have a couple of weeks before closing, so anything could happen.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Bat of the Week: Fringed Myotis
Better delve into the small Myotis species. Unfortunately I did not get to see this species last summer in Utah. But I saw a few in Mesa Verde.
Name: Myotis thysanodes
Common name: Fringed Myotis
Merut's diagnostic characteristics:
- Long, pointed tragus
- Long blackish ears
- Short stiff hairs along the edge of the uropatagium (tail membrane) i.e. the fringe
Merut's reaction: I hope it is a fringed and not a long-eared bat. It is! Yay!
Merut's experience: These bats are not very common. In Utah they are considered a sensitive species, or species of concern. They look very similar to the more common Long-Eared Myotis. For a while, this bat gave me a hard time with identification. Long-eared Myotis also has some faint and sparse hairs on their uropatagium. Thus I went through a phase where I would identify Long-eared as Fringed Myotis. However, as soon as I saw a Fringed Myotis, I realized how easy it is to see their fringe. As far as bats are concerned, it they smaller and calmer than a lot of other species. They are adorable, and provide an unexpected pick-me-up. I kept hoping to see one in Utah last summer, but each time it was a Long-eared Myotis instead. Boo hoo.
Other notes:
- Weighs about 5-7 grams
- Wingspan of about 27-32 inches
- Ear length 16-20 mm
- Most common in oak and pinon woodlands
- Produce one pup
Some of the data taken from Bats of the Rocky Mountain West by Rick A. Adams
House Update
We had our inspection last Wednesday. The inspector spent four hours on our little 1,000 square foot house. Luckily there were not any huge surprises. The roof needs to be certified (and possibly replaced), the water heater is 14 years old and needs to be replaced, and a lot of the outlets are not grounded. Those are the big issues.
Our realtor talked with the seller. He is going to replace the water heater (Gas Monkey wants a tankless water heater, so we may be paying the difference to get that). Also, the seller is going to have the roof looked at. He is not going to take care of the grounding. He claims it is original with the older house. Not so sure, but of the three issues, that is the least important. We'd much rather get the roof taken care of. We still have not had the appraisal yet, that is the next step. In short, things are still moving forward.
Our realtor talked with the seller. He is going to replace the water heater (Gas Monkey wants a tankless water heater, so we may be paying the difference to get that). Also, the seller is going to have the roof looked at. He is not going to take care of the grounding. He claims it is original with the older house. Not so sure, but of the three issues, that is the least important. We'd much rather get the roof taken care of. We still have not had the appraisal yet, that is the next step. In short, things are still moving forward.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
The Cat's in the Bag
Gas Monkey finally completed his bag. He made it out of an old pair of jeans and an old polo shirt. He is as proud of it as can be. Though it is definitely not the best piece of work either of us have made. We are calling it the ghetto bag. After testing it can hold at least 8 pounds of cat.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Friendly Competition
When it comes to Gas Monkey and I, there are many things he is better at than myself. He's more creative and imaginative (a little redundant but doubly true). He thinks he can do anything, and he is more patient (a useful quality when you think you can do anything). Well, today while Gas Monkey was sorting through his office junk, I, having already finished my laborious junk sorting last week, decided I was going to make a bag out of Gas Monkey's unwanted shirts. From the moment I decided to do this, to the end of my project, a whopping twenty minutes later, I had a new bag (the twenty minutes should be a clue as the quality, but hey it looks ok and is functional).
Gas Monkey has wanted to make bags out of shirts for a long time. Using myself as inspiration, he grabs a pair of unwanted jeans and a shirt he does not like. He starts cutting. "Don't you want to make some stencils or something?" I ask him, dubiously. He quips, "I know what I'm doing." Ok then. After he has hacked all his pants and shirt up, surprisingly, it is not going to work. After listening to my reasonable advice, he is now making himself a stencil out of trace-paper. He searched around for all the serious tools, a fancy ruler, a piece of board to cut on, trace paper; it's serious. I know he will be successful. He's definitely the kind of guy who will not be bested by some old fabric and a sewing machine. Quite admirable. The ironic thing however, is out of his two closets of shirts, he only has one he can sacrifice. And yet he forgot he had the whole other closet until last week. . .
The cats are always willing to help when there is fabric and string involved.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Garage Cleaning and Old Friends
This past week has been quite hectic. First, our bid on the house was accepted, after some negotiating. Now we are both thinking, "What the hell did we just get into?" I'm sure every new homeowner goes through this mental process. The real crisis, how are we going to move out of this giant condo, and into a house with only 1,021 sq. feet? Any suggestions? Luckily, my crap is mostly furniture and books. Gas Monkey's crap . . . well, I'll be nice. I'll just understate the problem and say, he has some sorting to do. A lot of sorting. B came over and decided we should have a garage sale. A garage sale? I'm very excited and curious about this proposition. I've never had a garage sale, because my mother was more than willing to continuously throw away my toys and "precious things." Case in point. "Merut, do you use this." "Well mom, I might in the future." "Trash," as she would unforgivably throw my valuables into a large plastic bag. A little sad, but I have rarely had those moments in the future where I thought, "I wish I still had this or that." Thank you mom for heading off any hoarding habits head on (nice alliteration, I know you are thinking).
Ok, so garage sale. It took me five hours, maybe, to sort through my stuff and throw it away or put it in the for sale section. So now I volunteer helping B and Gas Monkey. I can only hope my own callousness towards my high school treasures and softball trophies and Egyptian books is an inspiration towards those two. I am keeping my first softball trophy, because I am still so damn proud of it, rightly so. The garage sale won't happen for a couple more weeks, since they still have plenty of work to do.
Last Friday I went to the Denver Zoo to see a presentation by my favorite CU professor, Professor C. He recently came back from 11 months in Vietnam studying the Tonkin Snub-nosed monkey, a highly endangered primate, among many in Vietnam. I was a little nervous about going, partly because I hadn't seen my professor in 2 or more years, as well as seeing the old Zoo Conservation biology folks again. It was like I had just showed up from the dead. All of the congratulations and excitement. I'm really glad I went. I need to set up coffee with my professor, because I really enjoy talking with him.
Recently my legs have been super bruised. It almost looks as if Gas Monkey has been beating me. But really, I just don't know how to walk. Going through the garage I scraped myself against some of the copper piping he had been storing for years, in order to "recycle." Needless to say, that copper is not in the garage anymore.
Ok, so garage sale. It took me five hours, maybe, to sort through my stuff and throw it away or put it in the for sale section. So now I volunteer helping B and Gas Monkey. I can only hope my own callousness towards my high school treasures and softball trophies and Egyptian books is an inspiration towards those two. I am keeping my first softball trophy, because I am still so damn proud of it, rightly so. The garage sale won't happen for a couple more weeks, since they still have plenty of work to do.
Last Friday I went to the Denver Zoo to see a presentation by my favorite CU professor, Professor C. He recently came back from 11 months in Vietnam studying the Tonkin Snub-nosed monkey, a highly endangered primate, among many in Vietnam. I was a little nervous about going, partly because I hadn't seen my professor in 2 or more years, as well as seeing the old Zoo Conservation biology folks again. It was like I had just showed up from the dead. All of the congratulations and excitement. I'm really glad I went. I need to set up coffee with my professor, because I really enjoy talking with him.
Recently my legs have been super bruised. It almost looks as if Gas Monkey has been beating me. But really, I just don't know how to walk. Going through the garage I scraped myself against some of the copper piping he had been storing for years, in order to "recycle." Needless to say, that copper is not in the garage anymore.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
First House Offer
Today Gas Monkey and I put down our first offer on a house for the first time. Apparently there is already a bid on the house, so it seems doubtful we will get it, but here is what we were thinking.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Bat of the Week: Spotted Bat
Might as well start off with the creme-de-la -creme of the bat species, since y'all have been deprived for a couple of weeks now.
Name: Euderma maculatum (hence my blog site: euderma.blogspot.com)
Common name: Spotted Bat, Skull Bat, and according to Wikipedia, the Jackass Bat
Merut's diagnostic characteristics:
- Long. long pink ears that slightly curve
- White belly
- Black back, with three large white spots, two on top, and one on the rump area - hence the "skull face"
- Truly one of the easiest bats to diagnose
Merut's Experience: This bat is "rare", meaning researchers rarely catch them, and they are not sure if that is because the species is rare, or they are just hard to net. Either way, the first Spotted bat I mistnetted, was on a night when all the other technicians were doing insect sampling, and I was netting with a couple of USGS folks. I took out the bat, immediately knowing what it was. The USGS dude said, "I hope you appreciate this. Most bat biologists will never see one. So don't tell them. They might be extremely jealous." So it was a proud moment for me. I have mistnetted 3-4, and seen about 5-6. So I'm very lucky. In terms of radio-tracking them, they are very difficult. The only one we could find was roosting in one of the sheerest areas of Mesa Verde, and therefore nobody could pinpoint the roost.
Other notes:
- Spotted Bats may be more common than previously believed
- Weighs 16-20 grams
- Wingspan is 13-15 inches
- Occurs in the desert, as well as open ponderosa pine woodlands
- Their echolocation is audible to humans (which is not true of all bats)
- They are a sensitive species in Utah
Brew and the zoo and guest too
Gas Monkey's friend from Seattle came down for the weekend. He would like to go by Ivel. It was fun meeting him, harassing him, and watching them do their "man talk". Friday we went to Brew at the Zoo, which was mostly beer and less food this year. The best part was riding a black bear on the carousel with a beer in one hand and a pole in the other. The animals on the carousel even looked a little tipsy.
Imagine my shock at getting Gas Monkey having this much fun riding a drunk zebra. He looks the same as he did as a baby! See the resemblance?
Surprisingly, I managed to out drink Ivel, even though he is a "beer connoisseur". My training at high altitude is finally paying off. As Ivel flew to Denver to beer taste, we spent Saturday in Boulder, brewery hopping. More like getting lost in that crazy maze. It was fun, but I've eaten enough nachos and drank enough beer to tie me over for awhile.
Best moment of the weekend: looking at the website http://peopleofwalmart.com
Worst moment of the weekend: watching the Broncos game. Always the longest 3 hours of my week.
Imagine my shock at getting Gas Monkey having this much fun riding a drunk zebra. He looks the same as he did as a baby! See the resemblance?
Surprisingly, I managed to out drink Ivel, even though he is a "beer connoisseur". My training at high altitude is finally paying off. As Ivel flew to Denver to beer taste, we spent Saturday in Boulder, brewery hopping. More like getting lost in that crazy maze. It was fun, but I've eaten enough nachos and drank enough beer to tie me over for awhile.
Best moment of the weekend: looking at the website http://peopleofwalmart.com
Worst moment of the weekend: watching the Broncos game. Always the longest 3 hours of my week.
Friday, September 11, 2009
House Hunting
Kill me now. I only wish I was quite as gung-ho as Gas Monkey. We've been to 8 houses thus far, some potential, but still not "home." It's hard to imagine moving out of here, especially since I've lived in this area since I was 5.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
The Art Piece
As Spanky Bottoms so eloquently put it. She artfully said it was less of a ring and more of an art piece. And I think that is a good description. These pictures do not do it much justice. But I know a lot of you may never see it, or not for a long time.
Everything in this ring has meaning:
Red Simpel - the red stone symbolizes our love
Tsavorite - the green stone symbolizes our joint dedication to the environment (although it is smaller than our love)
The bat on the side - does not represent my love of bats. That would be silly. But it does represent Gas Monkey's acceptance and encouragement of my career plans, bats or not.
The texture on the side - Gas Monkey just thought it is cool. He took one of the pictures of bats I took in Mesa Verde (pallid or spotted), and blew it up, and took the texture off of one of the ears. So it is not obviously a bat ear, but it gives the ring more complexity.
It is pure white gold, and big enough to be a self-defense weapon (not intentional). What more does a girl need?
Merut - the Happy Homemaker
Being home has been busy. Here are the "highlights", if you can call everyday life a hightlight.
Last Friday, Spanky Bottoms came over to learn how to crochet. I have only seen her two times in the past year and a half. I saw her once when I was in Aspen. I came home from Aspen, then she went to New Zealand for 6 months. She came back from New Zealand, and I went to SLC. So I was excited to see her. She had crocheted a couple of times prior, so she wasn't entirely a novice . I think she was intending to crochet a square, but by the end, I told her it looked like half a panty. By the way, I loath the word "panty." Gas Monkey thinks most women hate the word "moist", but I enjoy a moist salmon, for example. There is no way to make "panty" sound good. So if anybody uses this word in front of me, you will evoke a cringe and maybe a sarcastic comment. Even "thong" has more balls. (I remember when my aunt had her two boys calling there underwear "panties". Now that is cruel and unusual parenting). After crocheting, Spanky Bottoms decided we should walk to Walmart, a good fifteen minute walk, and pick up a bridal magazine. I loved this idea. It was a double whammy against Gas Monkey. He hates both. And now that I'm home, my main entertainment is teasing Gas Monkey. The bridal magazine (Martha Stewart, of course, one of Spanky Bottoms' idols, sad to say) was completely absurd. I mean, come on. Do I really need to torture my bridesmaids (or let's be honest, bridesmaid)?
Saturday Gas Monkey and I went to his Aunt B's house, and I helped "can" 21 jars of peaches. A new skill! I'll be the housewife who knows all the housewife skills! Maybe I'll make a resume of all my domestic skills and give it to Gas Monkey: Looking for a nice home to be a homemaker. Skills include cleaning, crocheting, knitting, cooking, scrapbooking (actually this is giving me more credit than I deserve), jarring peaches, organizing, harassing my fiance, sleeping in, saving water (i.e. not showering everyday), and sitting around on the computer. I'd say I'm more than qualified. It was pretty cool to get a little dirty in B's garden.
Sunday we went to my parents house for an "engagement brunch." My parents went through a lot of effort. We got there and they were cooking pork ribs and chicken (which my mom rarely does since my dad is allergic). My mom even learned how to make mimosas, which she had never had before. After the first taste, her reaction was "meh", even though she encouraged Gas Monkey to continually refill her glass, much to my father's chagrin. Afterwards, we played "Oh Heck", which involves putting a dollar in to play, and then the loser pays the winner an extra dollar. Gas Monkey won twice. It is the only game my mom can win, and the only game my dad can't win.
Monday, Labor Day (thank you, you crazy Canadians), Gas Monkey and I went to the Rockies game. First row, along the first base line. I brought my beloved left-handers catcher's mitt. I even received a comment of adoration from a stranger. A left-hander's catcher's mitt is a rare thing indeed. I love love love that glove. Rockies won, but I was distracted by the heat. I kept looking around for mercy clouds. Mercy clouds let me down, often times by missing the sun, by mere "inches."
Now I'm home during the day. The honeymoon is over. That's what we always call the first week home after field work. Yesterday was the first day I started being down. I'm liked a caged animal. I get restless pretty quickly. I spent a lot of yesterday playing Pokemon on my Gameboy color, and watching reruns of America's Next Top Model (I blame that addiction on B, as I would never have started watching the show otherwise). The sorry thing is, I've seen all the seasons of ANTM, many times. I did manage to do all my daily studying for the GRE and doing laundry, but still. It feels pathetic.
Last Friday, Spanky Bottoms came over to learn how to crochet. I have only seen her two times in the past year and a half. I saw her once when I was in Aspen. I came home from Aspen, then she went to New Zealand for 6 months. She came back from New Zealand, and I went to SLC. So I was excited to see her. She had crocheted a couple of times prior, so she wasn't entirely a novice . I think she was intending to crochet a square, but by the end, I told her it looked like half a panty. By the way, I loath the word "panty." Gas Monkey thinks most women hate the word "moist", but I enjoy a moist salmon, for example. There is no way to make "panty" sound good. So if anybody uses this word in front of me, you will evoke a cringe and maybe a sarcastic comment. Even "thong" has more balls. (I remember when my aunt had her two boys calling there underwear "panties". Now that is cruel and unusual parenting). After crocheting, Spanky Bottoms decided we should walk to Walmart, a good fifteen minute walk, and pick up a bridal magazine. I loved this idea. It was a double whammy against Gas Monkey. He hates both. And now that I'm home, my main entertainment is teasing Gas Monkey. The bridal magazine (Martha Stewart, of course, one of Spanky Bottoms' idols, sad to say) was completely absurd. I mean, come on. Do I really need to torture my bridesmaids (or let's be honest, bridesmaid)?
Saturday Gas Monkey and I went to his Aunt B's house, and I helped "can" 21 jars of peaches. A new skill! I'll be the housewife who knows all the housewife skills! Maybe I'll make a resume of all my domestic skills and give it to Gas Monkey: Looking for a nice home to be a homemaker. Skills include cleaning, crocheting, knitting, cooking, scrapbooking (actually this is giving me more credit than I deserve), jarring peaches, organizing, harassing my fiance, sleeping in, saving water (i.e. not showering everyday), and sitting around on the computer. I'd say I'm more than qualified. It was pretty cool to get a little dirty in B's garden.
Sunday we went to my parents house for an "engagement brunch." My parents went through a lot of effort. We got there and they were cooking pork ribs and chicken (which my mom rarely does since my dad is allergic). My mom even learned how to make mimosas, which she had never had before. After the first taste, her reaction was "meh", even though she encouraged Gas Monkey to continually refill her glass, much to my father's chagrin. Afterwards, we played "Oh Heck", which involves putting a dollar in to play, and then the loser pays the winner an extra dollar. Gas Monkey won twice. It is the only game my mom can win, and the only game my dad can't win.
Monday, Labor Day (thank you, you crazy Canadians), Gas Monkey and I went to the Rockies game. First row, along the first base line. I brought my beloved left-handers catcher's mitt. I even received a comment of adoration from a stranger. A left-hander's catcher's mitt is a rare thing indeed. I love love love that glove. Rockies won, but I was distracted by the heat. I kept looking around for mercy clouds. Mercy clouds let me down, often times by missing the sun, by mere "inches."
Now I'm home during the day. The honeymoon is over. That's what we always call the first week home after field work. Yesterday was the first day I started being down. I'm liked a caged animal. I get restless pretty quickly. I spent a lot of yesterday playing Pokemon on my Gameboy color, and watching reruns of America's Next Top Model (I blame that addiction on B, as I would never have started watching the show otherwise). The sorry thing is, I've seen all the seasons of ANTM, many times. I did manage to do all my daily studying for the GRE and doing laundry, but still. It feels pathetic.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Toilet Lid Wars
As I have spent the past 5 months away from home, Gas Monkey has taken to leaving the toilet seat and lid up. Unless, of course, it is in his best interests to put the seat down. My momma raised me to always put both seat and lid down. Her strategy to make her own new husband (a.k.a my dad) learn proper toilet etiquette, was to constantly nag him to the bathroom to put the lid down. This strategy is lost on Gas Monkey, who is more stubborn and catches on more quickly. After two years of being drawn to the bathroom on false pretenses, the boy has caught on. After last night, I developed a more aggressive strategy.
Right before we left for today's Rockies game, when Gas Monkey was preoccupied with his computer, I saran-wrapped all four of the toilet lids and seats in the house together. I.e. I used a hella lot of saran wrap, and tied the lids and seats together, so when it was in Gas Monkey's best interests to use the seat, he would be more than a little inconvenienced. Needless to say, I was tickled with myself. On the way home from the Rockies game, he was eager to use our facilities for his dirty business. I continued to feel even more tickled with myself. We arrived home, and Gas Monkey rushed to the nearest bathroom. All I heard was a brief verbal lashing before the sound of quick ripping of saran wrap. It took him a whole second to undo my thoughtful efforts. Hardly an inconvenience. To top it off, afterwards he mentioned that he needs to teach me how to properly saran-wrap toilets. Damn him. So my method did not work. Any other suggestions?
Right before we left for today's Rockies game, when Gas Monkey was preoccupied with his computer, I saran-wrapped all four of the toilet lids and seats in the house together. I.e. I used a hella lot of saran wrap, and tied the lids and seats together, so when it was in Gas Monkey's best interests to use the seat, he would be more than a little inconvenienced. Needless to say, I was tickled with myself. On the way home from the Rockies game, he was eager to use our facilities for his dirty business. I continued to feel even more tickled with myself. We arrived home, and Gas Monkey rushed to the nearest bathroom. All I heard was a brief verbal lashing before the sound of quick ripping of saran wrap. It took him a whole second to undo my thoughtful efforts. Hardly an inconvenience. To top it off, afterwards he mentioned that he needs to teach me how to properly saran-wrap toilets. Damn him. So my method did not work. Any other suggestions?
Thursday, September 3, 2009
My Best Dog in the World
Mandy, my puppy since I was in the 6th grade, was put to sleep today. She was awesome, and I have felt bad ever since I started my own life by going to college. A German Shepard/Chow mix, we rescued her from Table Mountain Animal Shelter as a puppy. She was more than 12 years old.
I remember begging my parents for a dog since I was in the 3rd grade. My mom finally gave in after I printed off 50 pictures of different breeds, wrote names on the paper, and then pasted them on my bedroom wall while talking to them all daily. I feel bad I couldn't be there for her, but that would have been very hard. I only hope my parents are doing alright. When I left for Utah, she was relatively healthy looking for her age. However, over the summer, her stomach bloated really bad, and while she recovered, it was all downhill. The last couple of times I saw her, she looked emaciated, every bone showing, she couldn't stand up (because as a German Shepard, she inherited a degenerative disease where her spinal cord lost all feeling towards her rear), and since she couldn't feel anything, she licked all the fur off of her tail until it looked raw. Let's hope our other dog, Scout, can recover. When Mandy was in the hospital for the stomach bloating, Scout did not eat anything. Doggy heaven? In honor of my dog.
Monday, August 31, 2009
The Ring
Because I keep getting questions about that too.
Think of your typical engagement ring . . . and then imagine the complete opposite.
I asked Gas Monkey a long time ago, that if he decided to propose, I would want him to design the ring. I would want it to remind me of him, and represent us.
Gas Monkey spent two months working on my ring with a designer. Numerous emails and phone conversations, going to the designer many times, bringing six packs to try and bribe the guy to keep trying. Gas Monkey was never satisfied. They did 3 different printings, and 3 different waxings. Poor designer.
It is a ring that has to grow on you. I like it more and more everyday. Not saying I did not like it at first, I did, it was just so different than anything I had ever imagined.
It is impossible to describe and do it justice. What I can say, it reminds me of Gas Monkey to a T: modern from the top, almost Gothic from the side, it is symbolic, detailed, and unorthodox. He put in a lot of symbolism. For example, the main aspects represent our love for each other, our dedication to the environment, nature, and sustainability, and his acceptance of my career and future goals. What more can you ask?
And there are no diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds etc. The two stones he used are Red Spinel and Tsavorite. They are both very pretty.
I may post pictures of it in the future, but for now I want to wait.
Think of your typical engagement ring . . . and then imagine the complete opposite.
I asked Gas Monkey a long time ago, that if he decided to propose, I would want him to design the ring. I would want it to remind me of him, and represent us.
Gas Monkey spent two months working on my ring with a designer. Numerous emails and phone conversations, going to the designer many times, bringing six packs to try and bribe the guy to keep trying. Gas Monkey was never satisfied. They did 3 different printings, and 3 different waxings. Poor designer.
It is a ring that has to grow on you. I like it more and more everyday. Not saying I did not like it at first, I did, it was just so different than anything I had ever imagined.
It is impossible to describe and do it justice. What I can say, it reminds me of Gas Monkey to a T: modern from the top, almost Gothic from the side, it is symbolic, detailed, and unorthodox. He put in a lot of symbolism. For example, the main aspects represent our love for each other, our dedication to the environment, nature, and sustainability, and his acceptance of my career and future goals. What more can you ask?
And there are no diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds etc. The two stones he used are Red Spinel and Tsavorite. They are both very pretty.
I may post pictures of it in the future, but for now I want to wait.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
An Engaging Engagement
So here is the story, with all the nitty gritty details, since I know people like my mom want to know everything.
Thursday was my last day in Utah. I worked with K.H., received a glowing review from her, and then went home after a day of cleaning the work truck and doing data entry. I started packing, everything except for my clothes and bedsheets. My intention was to leave Friday morning, and get up around 10 a.m. No big deal. Just a little annoyed at the packing process. I called Gas Monkey, and he spent the whole night furiously cleaning the house. When I talked to him, he was extremely frustrated because the refrigerator blew a circuit board (or something else complicated and expensive), so all of the food was rotten. He sounded equally peeved, as he had supposedly bought food for a nice dinner this weekend. Either way, he spent the night cleaning, while I slept.
The next morning, I was very tired. At 9 a.m. I get a phone call from Gas Monkey. I, not intending to wake up before 10, pressed silence on my phone. Then, to my slight annoyance, he called again.
"Crap," I thought to myself. "If I don't answer, he will continue to call, and I will not get that extra precious hour of sleep." So this time I answer. I assumed, like most normal people, that he was calling to see if I had left yet.
"Hello?" I said, in my sexy morning gruff voice.
"Are you going to let me in?" he says from the other line.
"What? You're joking me."
"I'm outside in the back, are you going to let me in," he repeats.
I hung up on him, slowly go up the stairs, walk outside, and he is standing at the gate. Suitcase in hand, with a taxi behind him. My shock was counteracted by my lethargy.
"What the hell are you doing here? Are you crazy? You flew all the way out here to drive home with me. How sweet."
You could tell he was quite proud of himself. And I felt a strong urge of gratitude, and surprise. When he is romantic, the boy is romantic. So I had him follow me back to my room. To his horror and entertainment, he saw I had not loaded my car, and still had clothes sprawled everywhere. He commanded me to take a shower, which I was not intending on doing, and he began to carry all my crap (and that is what it mostly is) up the stairs and around the house to my car. By the time I was done with my somewhat intentionally lengthy shower, all my stuff was in the car.
I took him to breakfast at a really good local pancake house. Then, before we began to make the trek, he said, "We should go through Colorado. I'm really sick of Wyoming. It's boring." (Sorry you few Wyomingites, but it is true.) I tried to reason with him; driving through Colorado takes an extra two hours. But he was adamant. At that time it dawned on me. He brought a suitcase to drive home? I doubt it.
So we drive and drive and drive. After about five hours we ended up in Grand Junction. I began getting "truck fever" again. We stopped briefly, then back in the car. After maybe half an hour, he pulls off in Palisade. Palisade is wine and peach country.
"I have to get peaches for my aunt," he says. Meanwhile he is passing all the peach stands, while trying to nonchalantly use his phone for directions.
Finally we arrived at a small bed & breakfast. It was really cute. But when we got there the owners were not answering the door. As I had been deprived of good ol' Colorado beer, we decided to go to the local tavern. As soon as we walked in, one of the locals said "I hope you kids have I.D.s" We were the only people in there younger than 50. And the only thing they had on tap was coors and bud, and no bottled beer of anything else. Welcome back to Colorado? So we went to a local grill and had dinner. Finally we went back to the B&B.
Upon arrival, the lady that owns the place was super excited. I know this because she said, "It's so exciting!!!!" Immediately after she said this, Gas Monkey sorta hugged me, and apparently gave her the urgent don't-say-anything look. She showed us our room. It had a huge bed covered in black lace, a bottle of local wine, and bouquet Gas Monkey had ordered. Attached to the room was a "tower", with a full-sized hot tub was on the main floor, and an observatory on the second. We unloaded some of my stuff, then walked around their back yard. We sat in the gazebo for awhile just talking.
Then Gas Monkey wanted to go inside, so while he went up to the observatory, I picked a peach. I went up to him and we sat and talked some more, all about random things, like the time Spanky Bottoms and I each bought a harlequin from the thrift store. After that story, he tried to get me to tell a story about love. Uncooperative, I told him he knows all of my stories, since he is in all of them. So he started talking about how much I mean to him, how he wants to be with me forever, etc. He stood up and then got down on one knee. I have never seen my confident man this nervous. Stumbling over his words, shaking slightly, he even wiped away a tear. He tried to show me the ring, but I told him I did not want to see it until after I gave him my answer. Which was yes obviously. And that is the story. He literally flew in and swept me off my feet. Apparently the man was determined to get what he wanted.
And that is a very long narrative of a very important day in our lives. We are very happy.
Thursday was my last day in Utah. I worked with K.H., received a glowing review from her, and then went home after a day of cleaning the work truck and doing data entry. I started packing, everything except for my clothes and bedsheets. My intention was to leave Friday morning, and get up around 10 a.m. No big deal. Just a little annoyed at the packing process. I called Gas Monkey, and he spent the whole night furiously cleaning the house. When I talked to him, he was extremely frustrated because the refrigerator blew a circuit board (or something else complicated and expensive), so all of the food was rotten. He sounded equally peeved, as he had supposedly bought food for a nice dinner this weekend. Either way, he spent the night cleaning, while I slept.
The next morning, I was very tired. At 9 a.m. I get a phone call from Gas Monkey. I, not intending to wake up before 10, pressed silence on my phone. Then, to my slight annoyance, he called again.
"Crap," I thought to myself. "If I don't answer, he will continue to call, and I will not get that extra precious hour of sleep." So this time I answer. I assumed, like most normal people, that he was calling to see if I had left yet.
"Hello?" I said, in my sexy morning gruff voice.
"Are you going to let me in?" he says from the other line.
"What? You're joking me."
"I'm outside in the back, are you going to let me in," he repeats.
I hung up on him, slowly go up the stairs, walk outside, and he is standing at the gate. Suitcase in hand, with a taxi behind him. My shock was counteracted by my lethargy.
"What the hell are you doing here? Are you crazy? You flew all the way out here to drive home with me. How sweet."
You could tell he was quite proud of himself. And I felt a strong urge of gratitude, and surprise. When he is romantic, the boy is romantic. So I had him follow me back to my room. To his horror and entertainment, he saw I had not loaded my car, and still had clothes sprawled everywhere. He commanded me to take a shower, which I was not intending on doing, and he began to carry all my crap (and that is what it mostly is) up the stairs and around the house to my car. By the time I was done with my somewhat intentionally lengthy shower, all my stuff was in the car.
I took him to breakfast at a really good local pancake house. Then, before we began to make the trek, he said, "We should go through Colorado. I'm really sick of Wyoming. It's boring." (Sorry you few Wyomingites, but it is true.) I tried to reason with him; driving through Colorado takes an extra two hours. But he was adamant. At that time it dawned on me. He brought a suitcase to drive home? I doubt it.
So we drive and drive and drive. After about five hours we ended up in Grand Junction. I began getting "truck fever" again. We stopped briefly, then back in the car. After maybe half an hour, he pulls off in Palisade. Palisade is wine and peach country.
"I have to get peaches for my aunt," he says. Meanwhile he is passing all the peach stands, while trying to nonchalantly use his phone for directions.
Finally we arrived at a small bed & breakfast. It was really cute. But when we got there the owners were not answering the door. As I had been deprived of good ol' Colorado beer, we decided to go to the local tavern. As soon as we walked in, one of the locals said "I hope you kids have I.D.s" We were the only people in there younger than 50. And the only thing they had on tap was coors and bud, and no bottled beer of anything else. Welcome back to Colorado? So we went to a local grill and had dinner. Finally we went back to the B&B.
Upon arrival, the lady that owns the place was super excited. I know this because she said, "It's so exciting!!!!" Immediately after she said this, Gas Monkey sorta hugged me, and apparently gave her the urgent don't-say-anything look. She showed us our room. It had a huge bed covered in black lace, a bottle of local wine, and bouquet Gas Monkey had ordered. Attached to the room was a "tower", with a full-sized hot tub was on the main floor, and an observatory on the second. We unloaded some of my stuff, then walked around their back yard. We sat in the gazebo for awhile just talking.
Then Gas Monkey wanted to go inside, so while he went up to the observatory, I picked a peach. I went up to him and we sat and talked some more, all about random things, like the time Spanky Bottoms and I each bought a harlequin from the thrift store. After that story, he tried to get me to tell a story about love. Uncooperative, I told him he knows all of my stories, since he is in all of them. So he started talking about how much I mean to him, how he wants to be with me forever, etc. He stood up and then got down on one knee. I have never seen my confident man this nervous. Stumbling over his words, shaking slightly, he even wiped away a tear. He tried to show me the ring, but I told him I did not want to see it until after I gave him my answer. Which was yes obviously. And that is the story. He literally flew in and swept me off my feet. Apparently the man was determined to get what he wanted.
And that is a very long narrative of a very important day in our lives. We are very happy.
Friday, August 28, 2009
10 Ways to Know You Work for a State Wildlife Management Agency
Ozzy the Otter on the bookshelf next to my desk.10. You have to pay to use the water cooler.
9. Orange is everywhere.
8. Half of the people working there carry guns and have gun safes next to their desks.
7. The common mentality: It is important to teach children how to shoot. Not what they are shooting or why they are shooting it.
6. They will pay to have you learn how to shoot a bow and arrow (meanwhile looking upon you with pity).
5. The common sentiment about salads: "That's not food. That's what food eats."
4. It is commonplace to leave your fresh, newly severed elk head in the public parking lot during hunting season.
3. You work for free and they still complain about your project.
2. You have dead things in your office and you did NOT put them there.
1. You work for The Man - in particular a white, conservative, skinny old man.
The view from across my desk.
9. Orange is everywhere.
8. Half of the people working there carry guns and have gun safes next to their desks.
7. The common mentality: It is important to teach children how to shoot. Not what they are shooting or why they are shooting it.
6. They will pay to have you learn how to shoot a bow and arrow (meanwhile looking upon you with pity).
5. The common sentiment about salads: "That's not food. That's what food eats."
4. It is commonplace to leave your fresh, newly severed elk head in the public parking lot during hunting season.
3. You work for free and they still complain about your project.
2. You have dead things in your office and you did NOT put them there.
1. You work for The Man - in particular a white, conservative, skinny old man.
The view from across my desk.Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Big Green Tractor Song vs. Man without Determination song
Here's the two songs of last night. They are both pretty sorry:
Black Footed Ferret Surveys - 2 Nights
These past Monday and Tuesday nights, Db and I helped out the Northeastern region do their Black-footed Ferret surveys in Vernal, not too far from the Colorado border. In case you've never seen a black footed ferret. . .
To learn more about this endangered North American carnivore (not rodent!), here is a link to the Black-footed Ferret Recovery Program:The survey involves Db and I driving the same small area of the boonies from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m., looking for bright green eyeshine. If we were to find the eyeshine, we would run out to the hole, grab a trap, and set it hoping to catch the ferrets. However, that part is all theoretical.
This is how it actually panned out. I promise, it is a sorry scene.
It is 1 a.m. Both our windows are rolled down. Giant spotlights are attached to the roof of our truck, each with a handle that extends down into our windows so we can maneuver them. It is somewhat cold, and we are driving, so I am wearing a clean sock on my hand to keep it from freezing.
Db is lying next to me, asleep. There are twinkie, kitkat, and Baby Ruth wrappers sprawled everywhere, not to mention a few empty cans of Mountain Dew and Cream Soda. The crew happily provided us with they nutritious snacks. Needless to say, my stomach is a little edgy.
As I drive along, I am listening to one of two things on the radio: country music or UFO talk radio. The "scientist" is describing, in a boring monotone, how aliens and ghosts are the same thing, beings from an alternate dimension. I listen waiting for the crazy callers. Got to love those drunk crazy callers.
When I am listening to country music, I keep waiting for my new "favorite" country song. The lyrics go "I can take you for a ride on my big green tractor. We can go slow, or we can go faster. . . " Perfect. Instead they keep replaying this horrible song were the singer gave up "smoking, women, and drinking. And it was the worst 15 minutes of his life."
Occasionally on the hand-radio (after all, we have a whole team sprawled out on the horizon), we hear one of those guys shouting about how he found a coyote and it is his turn to shoot it. Awesome. DWR is, after all, a hunting agency created for and by hunters. So half the dudes are really looking around for coyotes to shoot. I guess it needs to be done. They need blood samples, but really, I shirked my duty by leaving one coyote to his evening.
At dawn Db and I get to go to a trailer and sleep, today for only 5 hours. Truck fever and a headache and no sleep. I am not a happy camper. Only one more day.
Monday, August 24, 2009
White-nose Syndrom + NPR
I believe a few of you have been hearing about bats on the East coast and "White-nose Syndrome". This is a very disheartening disease, and it is spreading fast. Researchers are doing what they can to understand it, but they are entirely underfunded. Since it is a fungus, the hope is that it won't reach the Colorado/Utah area since it is too dry here for fungus to grow. We can only hope.
Here is the NPR article and you can also find a link to the radio segment on the page.
Here is the NPR article and you can also find a link to the radio segment on the page.
No Bat of the Week Week
Sorry folks. I know you've been on the edge of your seats this week. Unfortunately, my computer has given up on me, and I on it. Therefore I'll have to go home before I can reinstate this thrilling segment of my blog. I need my pictures to do it. But I promise it will happen.
Tonight I am off to do Black Footed Ferret surveys. I am not exactly sure what this entails, but I am aware it involves staying up from dusk until dawn, looking for ferret "eyeshine" with a spotlight. I am unsure if it involves any trapping. What I do know is that this seems to be the survey everybody avoids. I think the reason is mostly because of the hours. I am sincerely hoping something exciting will magically happen.
My last weekend in Salt Lake City - I stayed mostly in my room and watched movies or read. Way to make it worth my while, I know. I did not go and reminisce or get all emotional. Mostly I was slightly annoyed at having to drudge through another weekend.
Happily, I get to come home on Friday!!!!!!!!! Then I'll spend a wonderful two weeks being very content, until gradually the perpetual unemployment and boredom slowly ingrain on my brain until I become extremely depressed. But for now I shall be optimistic. I will take this opportunity to hone my "domestic" skills. Cleaning, cooking, crocheting, knitting, scrapbooking, pleasing my man. Got to keep practicing to become the perfect trophy wife. Right?
Tonight I am off to do Black Footed Ferret surveys. I am not exactly sure what this entails, but I am aware it involves staying up from dusk until dawn, looking for ferret "eyeshine" with a spotlight. I am unsure if it involves any trapping. What I do know is that this seems to be the survey everybody avoids. I think the reason is mostly because of the hours. I am sincerely hoping something exciting will magically happen.
My last weekend in Salt Lake City - I stayed mostly in my room and watched movies or read. Way to make it worth my while, I know. I did not go and reminisce or get all emotional. Mostly I was slightly annoyed at having to drudge through another weekend.
Happily, I get to come home on Friday!!!!!!!!! Then I'll spend a wonderful two weeks being very content, until gradually the perpetual unemployment and boredom slowly ingrain on my brain until I become extremely depressed. But for now I shall be optimistic. I will take this opportunity to hone my "domestic" skills. Cleaning, cooking, crocheting, knitting, scrapbooking, pleasing my man. Got to keep practicing to become the perfect trophy wife. Right?
Friday, August 21, 2009
Truck Fever
Firstly, my computer is no longer functioning properly. It is apparently in perpetual hibernation. The lights are on, but the screen will not turn on. I've held the power button down until it reboots, I've taken the battery out for hours, I've turned off all power; it has been 24 hours and no change. Help please. This is going to be a long weekend without it.
Last Monday and Tuesday I drove the equivalent of 24 hours, by myself, out in the desert. Currently I am reading The Shining, so I've decided that instead of having "cabin fever", I developed a sort of truck fever. It was nice at first, but towards the end I was losing it. It is nice that I have multiple personalities to have conversations with. Here are some of the thoughts that ran through my head while I was entertaining myself those two days.
Last Monday and Tuesday I drove the equivalent of 24 hours, by myself, out in the desert. Currently I am reading The Shining, so I've decided that instead of having "cabin fever", I developed a sort of truck fever. It was nice at first, but towards the end I was losing it. It is nice that I have multiple personalities to have conversations with. Here are some of the thoughts that ran through my head while I was entertaining myself those two days.
- "Wow! It's fun to be alone again!"
- "I like our conversations Rush (Limbaugh). You can't interrupt me with your angry tirades. You can't retort!"
- "Is there a reason why we can't play more than two country songs before commercials?"
- "Crap! I just hit a Horned Lark! That's odd."
- "I think I should have a chocolate chip milkshake for lunch."
- "That was the best milkshake ever!"
- "WTF!? I just hit another horned lark!"
- "I'm bored."
- "I think a flat tire would be fun."
- "I should stop and take a picture of that roadkill. I think it is a coyote, but it could be a kit fox."
- "I'm hot, better turn on the air conditioning."
- "Why am I arguing with myself?"
- "I should finish watching Flight of the Conchords."
- "I'm cold, better turn off the air conditioning."
- "We could take a ride on my big green tractor. We can go slow, or we can go faster (it's a song)"
- "I'm boring."
- "That guy is too old to ride with on his big green tractor."
- "I wonder how many husbands Marilyn Monroe had."
- "Hot again. Better turn on the air conditioning. This is irritating."
- "Badger? Badger!"
- "I miss horseback riding."
- "I'm annoyed."
- "I wonder what these people in Delta think about my Coors Credit Union credit card. . ."
- "I should get cash."
- "Why is Delta High School holding band practice at the Coal Power Plant?"
- "Two elk road kill. That can't be good."
- "WTF!!!!!! Why is my exit closed! It's 10:30 p.m.!"
- "If I have to listen to this song one more time . . ."
That's just a fun sample. Luckily, Wednesday and Thursday I spent 20 hours with K.H. As you can imagine, she did not get to talk much. All work and no play makes Merut a dull girl.
(I am at the library, with only 25 minutes, so no time to proofread.) Don't go into withdrawl now.
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