For Real This Time - New Address for Cooking Blog

Eating with My Mouth Open

24/7 Volunteer in Service to America - for a Year

I've been pretty busy lately. Last week I went to Albuquerque to train for my Americorps Vista position with the Colorado Division of Wildlife. The problem when you haven't posted anything in awhile is that you have too much to write, and in my case, no energy to write it. So I'll summarize it in poorly organized bullet points.

• Albuquerque was hot, but we were in the Hilton. I did not have to share my room so I felt very spoiled. People who liked onions probably thought the food was very good. I am not one of those people.
• Training was pretty interesting - mostly interactive discussion. Not nearly as painful as when I trained for the Census.
• Corin (the white cat) has been throwing up for months now and he has lost 4 pounds in the past 2 years. He had to have surgery my last day in Albuquerque. Apparently he consumed 13 hair ties and a very large necklace (probably the equivalent of 4 more hair ties). Now hopefully he will gain weight. Apparently he has been hiding his addiction for a long time. Gas Monkey says he only gets this one chance. So next time (and there better not be a next time) I'm going to take my friend's advice, give him a whole bowl of hair ties and tell him to enjoy his last meal.
• I started my job at the Colorado Division of Wildlife. I have a very friendly supervisor and work in a friendly office. The only drawback is the CDOW is a government agency - i.e. they don't even provide the water cooler's in the office. And you always have to watch out for other people's toes, because it is a very political agency. Yay for bureaucracy!
• My official title is "Wildlife Outreach Coordinator". My purpose is to develop and strengthen programs to encourage participation from impoverished or alienated groups (in particular Spanish-speakers and impoverished children).
  
• I am in charge of a few projects. First, to oversee the translation of the CDOW website into Spanish. Second, to strengthen volunteer recruitment programs to increase public participation. Third, to evaluate "Growing up WILD," a curriculum used to education young children about the environment and wildlife. Currently I am going through various curriculum focusing on wildlife issues and critical thinking, going through each activity and then deciding whether they satisfy any of the new requirements for Colorado public school systems. But mostly I'm spending the next week reading.
  
• I rode my bike to and from work once so far. A total of 10 miles round-trip. Very doable but I hate coming back home - it's all uphill.

That's it. It is pretty boring really.

Gas Monkey's Bionic Hip

It has been six weeks since Gas Monkey's surgery. Today we went to the doctor's for some post-surgery x-rays. They looked great. It's amazing with all of the unnecessary risks he's been taking, he is still fine. The doctor said he can walk without crutches now (although he should start off slow, putting 25% of his weight on his leg this week, 50% next week, etc). Best of all, all of his movement restrictions have been lifted. Now he can drive, dress himself, get in and out of the shower, and help me water the garden. My life is about to get much easier. He's also excited to be more independent. We are both happy campers.

My New Baby

You can't really tell, but it is just the cutest, tiniest little zucchini squash ever. Maybe 2-3 inches long. I think it is a girl and I'm naming it India, after a shade of green I saw on a Wikipedia page. And some people wonder why I cried after the hail storm. My garden is my baby and each plant is a little character of it's own. I hope India grows to be a large, luscious lady (BAM! - look at that alliteration, or consonance if you want to get technical). Then I will decapitate her, shred her to pieces, make zucchini bread and share her with you.

As you can see my garden has fully recovered, thanks to a lot of tender loving care, gentle petting, and daily pep talks. Now if only I could kill weeds with neglect.

An Alternative Use for a Box Spring . . .a Cat Bed!

I particularly like her legs hanging off the sides.

Before Gas Monkey's surgery, our bed frame kept damaging our floor so we threw it away. At the time we were not in any particular hurry to buy another frame, so the bed stayed where it landed, on the floor. However, after Gas Monkey's surgery B bought us a new bed frame so he could get in and out of bed. The only problem was now the bed was too high. So for the time being the box spring is sitting upright against the wall in my room. And both cats love it. Unfortunately. But hey, if I was a cat I'd sleep up there all the time too.

Could a cat be any happier?

Montana and Wyoming

Last weekend Gas Monkey and I went to his cousin's wedding in Montana. We spent a little less than a day with his dad and grandma. Not much else to say about Wyoming. Nothing really happens there.

The view from Gas Monkey's dad's porch. I could wake up to that everyday.

The day after we arrived in Cody we needed to get to Red Lodge, MT. I was responsible for driving the whole time and I decided we should drive through the Beartooths. The Beartooths are a beautiful mountain range in between Cody and Red Lodge. We don't usually drive through it because it takes more time, but I was getting a little sick of the sagebrush covered rolling hills. Here's a few pictures from our drive.



At the FMIL's (future mother in law) house the craziness was already beginning. My FMIL was hosting a large dinner party and by the end of the evening probably 50 people had showed up. Luckily Gas Monkey and I got to spend the night at his mom's neighbor's house (a 1.5 million dollar mansion, built by a lawyer from back East who is almost never there). At least we got some privacy and could go to bed relatively early (relatively compared to Gas Monkey's cousins. We still went to bed at midnight.) The day after that was the rehearsal dinner in Bearcreek, a tiny town just outside of Red Lodge. The dinner involved a deliciously bloodied steak and pig races afterwards. I couldn't get any pictures of the pig races because my camera died just after I took a picture of the track. Gas Monkey's pig came in second, so no big winners.

Saturday, the 10th, was the wedding. It was really pretty on a nice little ranch turned chapel area. Since we drained the open bar, then went down town and closed the bars, understandably it is taking me a few days to recover. It was terrible to have to drive all the way home the next day. Sunday we left at 3 p.m. and got home at 12:30 a.m. It was pretty miserable for me the whole time. I think Gas Monkey's grandma didn't understand why he had to stay awake with me the whole time since he wasn't driving. Too bad, I really needed him to keep me awake. I have enjoyed going up to Montana more and more, but I am glad to be back home. I fly to Albuquerque next week for my Americorps training.

New Cooking Blog

I know what you are thinking. Just how many blogs is this chica going to have? And also, why does she think anybody cares about her life? Well, I don't know how many blogs I'm going to have, and I don't know how often I will post, and I know nobody really cares, but I'm bored, and it keeps me motivated. Plus it is easier than writing this stuff by hand, so it is a record for me to look back on in times of reflection.

This time I have started a cooking blog. I'm trying to cook from home, and this will be a good place for me to record which meals I have made, and which were successes and failure, so I'll remember in the future.

http://sloppycook.blogspot.com

Who knows, maybe you'll actually want to try one of my recipes, or you'll find a new dinner idea.

Also, this link will be in the side on this blog, where it says "Other Places I
Express Myself."

Would You Wear These?

Ok, I know what you are thinking. When they are laid out like this they don't look so bad. Maybe I should emphasize a few aspects of these sweaters (which belong to Gas Monkey). Let's start with the grey one. No 30 year old man should be wearing a too tight turtleneck sweater with deep ribbing. Now the one on the right. The faded pattern itself is not offensive, if you can overlook the stain in the middle of the chest, and the fact that it is way too short for Gas Monkey. These are only samples from Gas Monkey's closet.

Every year we go through Gas Monkey's closet (he has at least three times as many clothes as myself). Today I was doing laundry, and I came across these two sweaters while storing his winter clothes. The thought that crossed my mind, "how did these get through probably three or four elimination rounds?" They are each 10 years old at least. I asked Gas Monkey this. He claims one was given to him by an ex-girlfriend and he picked up another girl in the other. Once again, I asked myself how these two made it through four elimination rounds. So I came up with a creative solution (unfortunately I cannot implement this solution until winter, so somebody please remind me).

Next winter we will go through another elimination round. This usually happens in the winter because he has tons of winter clothes since his birthday is days before Christmas. Here is the deal. We will sort Gas Monkey's clothes into keep, give-away, and trial. The trial pile will be clothes that Gas Monkey wants, but I see no reason for him to keep. Each day he has to wear a shirt/sweater from the trial pile. If he does not want to go out in public in one of these trial shirts, then it goes in the give-away (or throw away) pile. If he successfully models these trial shirts for an entire day, work days included, he can keep them. If not, goodbye. The only flaw with my genius plan is sometimes Gas Monkey wears the ugliest shirts all the time. Regarding these two "womanizing sweaters" we may have to make a special exception. Gas Monkey will have to wear them into a bar and if a woman, any woman, buys him a drink, then he can keep them. I'm extremely confident he will be successful.

P.S. Gas Monkey loves that all of my posts are about him. It demonstrates my everlasting devotion and love.

One Way to Work off a Beer Belly

Hopefully he did not break any of his hip precautions. Too bad he did not finish the yard.

Why so Sad Scout?

Probably because cats rule and dogs drool. Rejected by Carson!

See a Resemblance?

Can you see the similarities? Carson looks like a retarded cat. We had her shaved last Saturday. When she came home, Corin kept harassing her. He followed her everywhere, and kept trying to bat her and her tail. She was not having it.

Census Work

So I started working for the Census Bureau yesterday. Training is very painful; sitting around listening to the crew leader and assistants read the documents to us, and going through the same exercises over and over and over. The information has definitely been beaten into me. I thought I was prepared to sit on my ass for six hours, but apparently not. My tailbone feels like somebody has slowly been sawing through it. Seriously, all my training as a couch potato has not paid off. At least I am making $16.75 an hour. Pretty decent. The job only lasts up until July 5th, not very long. And they could always release me earlier depending on how efficient I am (i.e. if there is no more work to be done, they won't need me anymore). Hopefully I can get out into the field soon, because this training stuff is driving me nuts!!!! Not to mention the early to bed early to rise bullshit.

Hash Browns, Why do You Allude Me?

First of all, I am no chef. I prefer the modest title "cook." I can't create, but I can follow directions. I'm sure I am not alone here. For the most part, I can follow directions pretty well. Sure, it takes practice to make a spankin' good pizza crust, or any bread for that matter. But even if I'm not 100% successful, it is edible. I have finally met my foe . . . hash browns.

Hash browns? Really? Isn't that easy? You may be asking yourself in your head. My response, you'd think. When I was growing up, hash browns used to be my favorite food. I was lucky to have a dad who would get up early to make them for us from scratch. Of course being a bored, self-consumed child/teenager, I never bothered to get the proper instruction from my dad. I am ruing the day when I eagerly consumed the hash browns, and moved on in my life.

Lately I have been craving these (and no, there is no bun in the oven, I'm just bored and therefore hungry). I try to make hash browns at least twice a week, excluding the weekend when Gas Monkey gives it a try (and yes my jawline has been getting soft as a result). I've done a lot of research and have been testing all these methods. So far no success.

The first problem. No matter how much I prepare my beautiful new stainless steel pans, the hash browns stick. This is annoying since they need to be fried and crispy. When I use my pans, the crispy part sticks to the pan, and all I'm left with is the non-crispy parts. Yuck. Out of curiosity, I have used my George Foreman Grill. So far my success rate with that is 50-50.

The next problem, to precook the potatoes or not. Well, when I don't cook the potatoes, I end up with a grey slimy mess. Even if it is slightly edible, it is not appetizing. It looks like cooked worms. And it is not crispy.

Alright, so let's boil the potatoes first. This is annoying. Being the late-sleeper that I am, by the time I have boiled the potatoes and try to cook the hash browns, it is noon. Not that I am adverse to eating hash browns at any time of the day. However, when I try to cook the hash browns from boiled potatoes, they become mush. Who wants to eat fried mashed potatoes?

At this point I'm sure you're thinking, why not just buy the frozen hash browns? I am a person who likes to know how to make things from scratch. And by now I have made enough things by scratch that Gas Monkey is disappointed when I don't. So it is a failure on my part. I'm so frustrated!

Dad, if you're reading, I'm going to come over one of these days with my fantastic stainless steel pan and take the training I should have had a long time ago. (By the way, Gas Monkey may want the training as well. His are only mildly more successful than my own). I'm bound and determined to conquer this!

Gardening Fever

Now that Gas Monkey and I have built our garden, we have been eager to plant. About a week and a half ago, we set about planting those cold-hardy plants that would survive frosts. I mentioned to my mom that we had the gardening bug, and she replied "You don't have the gardening bug. You have gardening fever!" So far we have planted tomatoes (complete with walls of water), potatoes (at Gas Monkey's insistence), lettuce, spinach, peas, radishes, and green onion. Everyday I water and hope for those encouraging little sprouts to pop up. Yesterday I found those reassuring greens. Our radishes are growing! Granted I'm the least excited about the radishes, but at least something is growing. And I'll be darned if I don't provide all you eager followers with a taste of my own victory by producing a picture (pathetic though it may seem).

In the meantime, I have spring delirium (something worse than fever). I have a hard time spending even a few minutes in the house. I'd much rather be sitting on our new lawn chairs reading. It follows that I don't get anything done and my house looks and feels like a disaster area (not to mention I have a paper to write for the zoo that I am woefully late on and still haven't found a job yet). I even mowed the lawn yesterday to stay outside while feeling "productive."

Pots and Pans

Here is how the story went. About a month ago Gas Monkey and I were sitting outside, our favorite chatting haunt. Perhaps I was complaining about the storage space in my kitchen, or maybe it was out of the blue. Gas Monkey asked me if I would like a pan/pot hanger. I'm sure I looked at him incredulously (I've been reading Pride and Prejudice, so these words may pop up). "A pan hanger? For me? Those can be expensive!" Gas Monkey assured me he could have his friends make one, if I were to design one to my liking. Thrilled, but skeptical, I came with a tasteful yet simple design. "What?!" he asked me incredulously. "You can make it fancier." I eagerly described the difficulties pertaining from my own experiences with pan hangers. Gas Monkey agreed to meet my criteria. However, he wanted to make it much more complicated. We managed to come to an agreement. This is the result. While we quibbled over the tiniest of details, I am very satisfied and proud of my man. His friends did the welding, and he did the sanding and the painting.

My mother will be glad to know that I have since cleaned the bottoms of my pans, avoiding unnecessary tackiness.

Foxy friends

Today I spent the afternoon hanging out with mum, and while we were driving home from some errands, we saw some adorable foxes. I know what you are thinking, ooh ahh foxes (that is meant to sound sarcastic). But living in a urban area makes the mundane suddenly amazing. There is an old church a block from our house, and in the yard was a mommy fox and three pups. And I'm sure everybody will agree that baby-anything is simply delightful. It was cool to watch, because they kept running around playing, oblivious to the world around them. By the time I ran home to grab my camera, they were in their den, so this was the best I could do. Still cute though.

A good day's hard work

This is how much dirt was left when Gas Monkey came home.

So you know that part in Gone with the Wind when Scarlett and her sisters have to start caring for Tara after the war ended and they were left penniless and decimated? I hope most of you will know what I am talking about. Scarlett, being the go-to b@tch that she is, forces her poor sisters to work the cotton fields. The sisters' basic response is "We can't do manual labor, we're ladies!" Then they whine and moan the whole time. Well, I started the day off with the sisters' mentality. I.e. this is bullsh$t. I'm a "lady", whiny whiny whiny. That was because it was early in the morning and that dirt pile was insanely unreasonable. However, as the day progressed I bucked up like a true Scarlett (not that I want to be anything like her. She is a selfish conniving miserable character. No heroine of mine for sure). I managed to move 4/5ths of that dirt before Gas Monkey came home. I was very proud of myself.

The neighbors even felt sympathy for me. Our neighbor Carol, came up to me and said, "Are you crazy? You should wait until Gas Monkey comes home. Let me give you a piece of advice my mother gave me. Don't learn how to do something you don't want to spend the rest of your life doing. It will always be expected of you."

Like the best of retorts, mine brilliantly popped into my mind after the fact, and this is what it would have been. "This is what my mom told me. You can never wait for a man to get the job done. Because who knows when and if that will happen." Not that Gas Monkey does not do his share, but he didn't come home until around 4, and that would have been too late.

As it turned out, Gas Monkey came home bearing gifts (i.e. tulips and beer. The man is getting good about the flowers). He spent about an hour and a half finishing the job, then took me out to a nice dinner. This morning he even heated a wheat pack without my asking, and stuck it in the bed with me. So sweet. He told me that if I work my ass off like that everyday more flowers will follow. Fat chance, I'm back to the lazy ways. But now our garden is ready to be planted. YAY!

And by the way, I just want to give a huge shout-out to my dad. He spent his weekend doing hard labor with us, lessening our load. Gas Monkey works really well with him, even though the two of them managed to override some of my executive decisions (tsk tsk, I forgive you both). Thanks dad! Another thing I owe you for. I believe a nice dinner with our freshly grown vegetables will be in order.

On a side note, Corin has decided it is to his advantage to join Carson and I outside. It is more exciting and way warmer than the inside of our house. I'm so proud of him!

What made me think this was a good idea?

It is Tuesday morning, earlier than I'd like to be up. Thus I have not had time to recover my senses. We just had 6 cubic yards of dirt delivered. Foolishly, we took down the back fence with the high hopes our dirt pile could be close to our beds. WRONG! The dude tells me his truck is too heavy and he does not want to damage our driveway. So now our dirt is on the edge of our driveway, running into the street. To make things worse, 9news says the wind is at 23 mph. I'm so screwed. I wish Gas Monkey could come home . . .

Maybe whiny, lazy me should go get some Starbucks, as if writing a short blog wasn't procrastination enough.

Carson - Wannabe Ninja Kitty!!!

This story is from last week. It was a fine, warm afternoon. Carson and I decided to spend some quality bonding time outside, her cat napping and me reading. (Reminder: Carson is on a leash that lets her wander, but does not allow her to reach the fence or the tree) Carson was perched on her typical spot by the backdoor, observing the world around her, but not moving around much. While I was reading on the back porch, our neighborhood squirrel started trotting across the patio in Carson's direction. It was not until the squirrel was about four feet from Carson that it realized it was in mortal peril. Instantaneously the squirrel starts running towards the tree with Carson in hot pursuit. About three feet from the tree, Carson decided it was time to jump. With her eye on the prize, Carson maintained her attack until she was about four feet in mid-air. Then everything started going wrong. Suddenly she was pulled back, back away from her prey. Thud! She landed in a disgruntled heap on the ground. Stupid leash.

My reactions progressed something along these lines: "brave squirrel, man Carson can run fast, omg she might actually catch it, OH NO!, hahahahahahahaha, oops I hope she is ok."

I feel a little bad about laughing. It's one of those moments when somebody makes a really stupid mistake trying to show off and hurts themselves. You laugh first, then regret later. Carson was not hurt, just her pride. I wonder if she will ever make that mistake again. At least she was wearing a harness and not a collar . . .

Providing outdoor stimulation to Carson (sp. Felis catus carsonii) in order to determine entertainment value to one human (Homo sapiens amyii)

Introduction:
I have made the radical decision to risk my mental well-being by letting our cats go outside . . . on a leash of course! On the one hand, after cats have been introduced to the glory and independence of the outdoors, they will always want to be outdoors, making it hard to walk near a door without hearing that nagging meowing. However, animals that are "caged" need stimulation to keep their minds young and healthy. For example, at the zoo animals are presented with challenges to keep them active. The cheetahs share a chain fence with the kangaroos, keeping both sides of the fence "stimulated" (i.e. cheetahs pace back and forth, frustrated by the tease, while the kangaroos shit their pants). Therefore, my experiment is to provide our cats, who recently made the stressful move from a fairly large condo to a much much smaller abode, with exciting new experiences. Thus, given freedom within certain limitations, Carson should respond to outdoor simulation in a way that benefits all.


Methods:
-The experiment has been tested on Carson first, because she is more dog-like than Corin. Whereas Corin is more afraid to do something, Carson has no concern for her personal safety. An ideal test subject
- Carson is required to wear a cat harness (not a collar, to prevent any accidental hanging, no matter how frustrated I am with her) and a light rope attached to our awning at all times when outdoors.
- Some human figure must also be outdoors with Carson for monitoring and data recording purposes
-Carson is not to be made to do anything she does not wish (and she makes this very clear)

Results:
- While Carson is annoyed by dragging around the rope, she has explored to the extent of her capabilities. The extent of her capabilities is also an annoyance (she cannot reach anything that may result in a hanging, such as the fence, tree, or shed).
- Carson seems happiest sitting by her safety place (the back door), on the concrete, where she can be discreet in her observations of potential prey, but can also absorb the maximum sunlight. Sometimes said sunlight is a distraction from potential prey, resulting in grogginess.
- In warm but overcloud conditions, Carson is much more likely to "explore"
- Carson has yet to meow when she wants to go outside, but will follow diligently if offered.

Conclusion:
Provided the weather is warm enough, Carson enjoys being outside with company for up to an hour at a time. Unfortunately for her, her human companions do not always want to be outside for this duration, and occasionally her liaisons are cut short. In such cases, Carson goes and sleeps on the couch. The potential benefits of this study are mostly found in the entertainment value, as well as keeping Carson active during her normal daytime nap hours, allowing her to sleep more fully at night, to the well-being of everyone involved.

Further Research:
Should this study prove successful, it will be applied to Corin, who currently wears his sexy blue harness around the house to adjust to the feeling.

Yummy Taco Salad

Gas Monkey and I always make tacos. Last week I decided to vary it a little bit. What is a good variation of a taco? A taco salad! I know . . . GENIUS! To be truthful, I was hoping to find a sneaky way to get Gas Monkey to eat a little more spinach. So, I went to the store, searched everywhere for taco salad shells, to no avail. Instead I grabbed some large flour tortillas, and hoped I could find a recipe for baked taco shells. I was successful. Surprisingly, they did not take too long to make - almost stupid proof. I kept my "back-seat cook" out of the kitchen until it was ready (Gas Monkey has a tendency of "overseeing" my cooking). When I finally presented it to him, his immediate reaction was "WOW!" And that is not a sarcastic wow, it was an involuntary wow. That was the grandest reaction I have yet to receive from Gas Monkey, all from a pretty small variation on tacos. The man is easy to please.



We put the following in our taco salad (I know, it looks like a funky ice cream sundae):

Browned ground turkey
Spinach
Cheddar cheese
Black olives
Sour cream (I can't live without this stuff)
Homemade guacamole
Ranch dressing with fresh cilantro and lime juice added
Hot sauce
Tomatoes
Pepper
Green onions

If you want the recipe on how to bake your own taco shells from flour tortillas, you can go here:

Baked Taco Salad Bowls

Poke-N-Screw

So this morning I was getting some beauty sleep and a new card game came to me. When I awoke I made some minor adjustments. It is called Poke-n-Screw. Gas Monkey and I both enjoyed playing it, so here are the rules.

First, one person shuffles. The other person picks one card out from the deck, flips it over and sets it aside. What ever number is on the card will instigate the Super Screw (more about this later). The dealer then deals all the cards out to each person playing. Each person keeps their pile face down in front of them.

The play (very simple): Each person plays one card from the top of their pile face up in the middle, consecutively, one person plays a card, and then the next person plays their card, continuously. The point of the game is to get all the cards. Each player must look for any of the following:

Poke: Any combination of cards in a row that add up to fifteen (Aces count as 1, and 10 and above counts as 10)
N: Two cards of the same number played on top of each other
Screw: 3 cards played consecutively all of different suits

Anytime one of these combinations is played, the first person to say the type gets the entire middle pile.

Super Screw: Whenever a card with the special number is played the game halts. A poker hand ensues. Each player draws 5 cards from their hand. They then discard up to 3 cards into the middle pile. Each player draws the necessary number of cards to add up to 5 from the OTHER person's deck. Then, one player begins the bid, and the other player has the opportunity to meet the bid or raise it (Just like poker). You bid with cards. The winner of the poker hand takes ALL the cards from the middle pile, including the cards from both player's poker hands and those discarded.

The first person to get all the cards wins.

Special rules:
1. The first person to say the correct word (poke, n, or screw) first takes the pile.
2. If somebody plays a card on a combination before the combination is called, nobody takes the pile and play continues.
3. If one player has five or less cards left, and the a Super Screw is in play, that person cannot discard any cards, and can only draw the necessary amount of cards up to 3. That is their poker hand. Out of respect to the losing opponent, no bids are made. You cannot raise your opponent above the number of cards they have in their pile.

That's it. It sounds somewhat complicated, but it requires thinking actively and quickly, and even if you are losing you can redeem yourself by the Super Screw.

When you win you get to say "Poke-n-Screw You!"

Anybody who plays this be sure to give me your opinion and any ideas for improvement. All in all, I'm surprised I had a logical dream.

Congrats Gas Monkey

Gas Monkey accepted an award today for Colorado's 2010 Sustainability Champion Award as a part of a team (Workplace Conservation Committee for the Denver Zoo). He accepted the award in front of a couple thousand people. Here is the article (you have to click to the second page to see the Denver Zoo).

http://www.cobizmag.com/articles/2010-sustainability-champion-awards/page-2/

Paul's not in the article, but he instigated the program and accepted the award. Yay!

Stopping to Smell the Flowers

About a week ago Gas Monkey was so sweet and bought me a bouquet of flowers . . . using an after Valentine's Day sale of course. It was a pretty arrangement with purple daisy type flowers, and a couple of lilies that had not bloomed yet. A few days ago the lilies bloomed, and since they were gorgeous I took them out and put them in a separate glass. They are very powerful smelling. In case you are not acquainted with lilies, they have very strong pollen, that continuously falls off, and has a propensity to stain. I warned Gas Monkey not to get too close when smelling them, so he wouldn't look stupid. Unfortunately I could not relay this message to Carson, and here is the result.


Now her face is stained yellow and orange. And I'm sure she is wondering what that strange smell is that follows her everywhere. In fact, I think the pollen has acted as catnip, because now she is acting crazy. Silly girl.

I finally took the GRE . . .

Yes I know what you are all thinking, haven't I already taken the GRE? The simple answer, no. The more complicated answer. . . I've been studying for it on an off for almost two years, I've signed up for it three times, and postponed it probably more than 6 times. But, I finally took it today. Now, over the summer I studied for it for a couple of hours a day for three weeks. Since the beginning of January, I've been studying for it for over five hours a day. I have learned (not just memorized) over 1000 new words (including doozies like perfidy, amalgamate, penumbra, expatiate, sycophant, etc). I finally learned (hopefully permanently) what adroit, prodigal, and prodigal mean (and I mean finally because these are words that everybody else knows). Today was a big stressful step, and I needlessly created a lot of drama and buildup. I received a 1350. In other words, I'm in the 70th percentile for my math (which is a whole other dramatic story during the test. In essence, I took the math section twice!), and the 94th percentile for my verbal. Ultimately, my mentality going into the test was . . . "I know my GRE score will not automatically get me the grad position I want. But I also know it could potentially eliminate me from the position I want." While I wish my math was higher, I think I can be satisfied. I hope I never have to take the test again. And now there is a huge void in my life that I have to fill.

The Worst Part about Sleeping with Gas Monkey

Lately I have not been inclined to write, obviously. With the stress of the holidays, and now the stress of preparing for the GRE (for the billionth time), not much has happened in my daily life that would be of interest to the masses. Until last night.

A little background information. Gas Monkey is mostly a very pleasant person to sleep with (as in actually sleeping, all you dirty-minded folks). He generates a lot of body heat. Not only is he warm, he is a cuddler. Which means I must reciprocate the cuddling. He hugs me, and then turns around, and then I hold him. Remember this important detail, it will come in handy later. Most of the time the cuddling and warmth override all the negative aspects of sleeping with Gas Monkey.

He snores, but will stop if I push on him pretty hard. Up until last night, I thought the worst part of sleeping with Gas Monkey was the stinkiness. And as my own mother so "pleasantly" found out last Christmas, when Gas Monkey is stinky (which is all the time), it can produce a revulsion that becomes almost animalistic. What I mean is, when you catch a whiff, you cannot help but claw your way out of the room in retreat. Anyways, back to the story.

So I thought the snoring and the stink were the worst parts. But recently Gas Monkey has developed a new behaviour - drooling. And not just drooling, but drooling on my pillow while he is cuddling me, unbeknownst to me. Now that I have set up the scene, let me describe the moment that inspired me to write a blog for the first time in a month.

It is early early morning. Gas Monkey is cuddling me. The sheets are warm, and I am sleeping pleasantly. Suddenly, the warmth slowly abandons me and I hear (and feel) this gigantic lump next to me roll over. "Cuddle me," I hear in a barely audible adorable little boy voice coming pathetically from a very big man. "Alright," I think to myself, it is only fair. As I roll over, I groggily put my head back on my pillow. SQUISH!!!!!!! My cheek lands in a foreign round spot of wetness, Gas Monkey's drool. And the only way to describe it is . . . gross.

And then the problem, do I get out of the bed and the warmth to go and wash my cheek? I'll be honest, no. Instead I flip the pillow over and continue to cuddle Gas Monkey. Warning to Gas Monkey: be careful where you place your cheeks at night. Revenge is a b#tch.

Now that was inspiring to me, was it not inspiring to you?