Here we sit at Sodium Manor, with a light drizzle tapping against the windows, enjoying the warmth of our home on a quiet Sunday October morning. Jake's next to me here at the computer and Tammy's upstairs making a breakfast of eggs and hashbrowns. Sarah's at her friend Mariah's and all is well. It's going to be an all sports day today with the Vikings playing at noon, the Bears, ON TV baby, at 3, and then the Yanks and Angels tonight. Hence, the blog cometh early today. This is the season that I live for, Fall. Sweatshirt weather and lots of sports and the blessings of a roof over my head and a family to share it with. Let's not forget all the animals too... They are now for sale by the way. See Fido's List for details.
Speaking of animals, Jake got another fish to replace McNabb, the world's largest beta (seriously a big fish in a little pond. That sucker was HUGE) who passed away from old age a few months ago. Before you judge me as I swore off any new animals and have kept the hampster conversation at bay thus far, I washed my hands of the whole thing. It's his fish and his alone. His reward for surviving H1N1 I guess. There will be no tank cleaning or feeding from this chica. Well, I'll feed him if Jake is gone, but if the tank turns black from lack of attention it will not be my deal. (Uh, yeah, right. I'm so mean that way.) His new red beta has been named Yoshi after the Mario charcter who's butt I kicked over and over in Mario Kart, oh yeah! I have all gold's and one silver, but alas, I digress.
Yes, and speaking of animals part two, we are having shepherd's pie tonight and it will include Neka, the American shepherd as the main ingredient. Work that Iron Chef Mosimoto. I'm going to skin and cook her up along with Buck the golden, also known as "the doorknob". He was the one holding the door when God was passing out dog brains. Don't get me wrong he is a sweetie-pie (which will fit nicely in my shepherd's pie), but he is a dim bulb. He is also food obsessed. So much so that when I got home from work on Friday the first thing I noticed was Jake's fish food container lying open and empty in the hallway. Jake prefers to use the beta balls for his fish and as soon as I walked in Neka plopped herself down to guard the mess, licking the carpet to get the deep down balls of brown. Nice. So I gingerly advanced into Sarah's room like a big busted floozy in a horror film, and no surprise, could not find her yellow plastic container of fish flakes. I found one trace that it had been there at all. On the floor was a small chewed up piece of yellow plastic. Oh look, he left a crumb I thought. There was no container to be found. I even looked under the bed knowing it wouldn't be there but I did find a live cat napping, so that was a bonus. That is, until Jake found the evidence in our bedroom, a yellow chewed on tube lying amongst the now red stain of artifically colored fish food that they had licked into the beige carpet. Anyone want a 65 pound shepherd and 70 pound golden? We just had the carpet cleaned in August and now the bedroom looks like a murder scene from CSI. Billy Mays where are you? I need my OxyClean. Sans the coke please.
Last night we finally got our Serum's fix with Bruce and New Nancy and Dexter and "Bob". When you don't go to Serum's for awhile it is a treat, no trick. I love that place in all it's grimy goodness. Since Anoka IS the Halloween capital of the world (Google it if you don't believe me), Serum's is all decked out with spooky decorations and cobwebs, some of them are even fake unlike a normal day, and they put up all these old time photos that if you look at directly are like regular old brooch wearing ladies and collar stay sporting guys of olde, but from an angle are ghosts and skeletons and such. It's pretty cool. My wings were delicious and I brought home the leftovers to nosh on during all the sports today. Life is good. Tammy's still coughing though and has a sore throat, so her illness is not completely gone. That's a bummer, but she is still breathing so that's a good thing.
Guess that's about it. Oh, but if someone could explain to me cross multiplication of fractions in easy to interpret language so I can explain it to Jake, that would be helpful. Sufi? Heinsohn? Anyone? In the meantime, I have to go sharpen my utensils to begin my shepherd's pie. Neka? Buck? Come here please...
Love,
Diane
PS. Is Jake's costume from 2007 the coolest or what? Oh yeah.....
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Cliches Cause My Nose to Wrinkle
Unfortunately for us, the "Takes One to Know One" virus did indeed turn into H1N1. Ugh, so cliche. For so long I have embraced the unique and in the end we get the massive fear mongered virus. Boo and hiss I say. How convenient though I had just received my new load of vacation from my work. It is added to my time bank every year at the end of September, my anniversary date for donning the golden handcuffs. Oh Andrea, the devil doesn't only wear Prada, sometimes the devil wears Wranglers and Red Wing boots, ah but that is a discussion for another day. In any case once Sarah was officially diagnosed (this conspiracy theorist IS still skeptical, just sayin...) last Monday morning I took vacation the rest of the week to prepare. Jake came home from school on Tuesday with a 102.5 and Wednesday Tammy went down with a 102 and a cough hoarse enough to make Brenda Vaccaro blush. Me? I had a bad cold this whole time but never did get the H1N1. Since I was the best of the worst I did my best to meet everybody's needs. It was tough and we were self quarantined. Luckily I always have my cataclysmic "just in case" beer supply on hand and Butterfingers. Everybody at one time or another was pretty much reduced to a puddle of goo and the weepys hit each at different times. Boy, did we watch a lot of movies too. That is not a complaint as I have always thought I should be paid to watch movies anyway and in a sense I was. Guess we joined Netflix at just the right time. What an unusual "vacation". Anne Frank and two whole families were in that small attic for two years and a month and we barely made it a week in a four bedroom house with a finished basement. I was about to call the SS myself, anonymously of course. Any bald spots you might notice are from pulling my hair out at various points but I have been told it will either grow back or you all can call me Bozo. The kids go back to school on Tuesday and all are back to healthy. What a weird weird week. One for the books. I was jonsin for some Serums wings by Wednesday and Dexter did offer to do a drive by and toss them in the driveway but I passed. We'll go this weekend.
Today was actually gorgeous outside and I just finished some grilling of T-Bones. We had T-Bones and steak fries tonight. My best grill of the season I think. Yes, I am tooting my own horn. It's taken me a couple full summers to master the art of charcoal grilling versus gas. Am OWN my Weber now. Carcinogens for everyone!!
Oops, I better go. BEARS ARE ON IN FIVE MINUTES!!!
Love,
Diane
Today was actually gorgeous outside and I just finished some grilling of T-Bones. We had T-Bones and steak fries tonight. My best grill of the season I think. Yes, I am tooting my own horn. It's taken me a couple full summers to master the art of charcoal grilling versus gas. Am OWN my Weber now. Carcinogens for everyone!!
Oops, I better go. BEARS ARE ON IN FIVE MINUTES!!!
Love,
Diane
Monday, October 12, 2009
Takes One to Know One
I moved to Minnesota in September of 2000. Since I have been up here we have had our share of cold snaps and spells, of below zeros and snow drifts aplenty. But never, in my 9 years of being embedded, have I seen this much snow accumulating this early in October. What a crazy year. The first week of July we had long johns on at softball games. I thought for sure summer would just come later but it appears I blinked and missed it. Last year at this time I was lying in bed bargaining with God regarding my pneumonia (God? Seriously. This is how I’m going down? Dude, come on. This? Bogus!) and as a result simply stopped smoking after 28 years (I wasn’t a heavy smoker so it wasn’t that big of a deal). This year I have the sniffles right now. No fever, no aches, just the sniffles and sneezes. Let’s keep it that way. Sarah went on a church youth retreat “up north” where two kids had to be picked up early due to illness and she arrived back at Sodium Manor last evening very ill. Symptoms indicate it could be H1N1 according to the doctor Tammy spoke with this morning. I’m going more for the TOKO strain of it, known as the “Takes One to Know One”, illness myself. So we’re keeping her home from school and will power wash Jake when he walks in the door tonight. I call it the Silkwood. Tammy’s bleaching all the doorknobs and handles and things. No fun that’s for sure. Sarah is a pet cuddler too so I better Silkwood the dogs and cats. Might as well do the fish while I’m at it, sorry Charlie. We don't want fish with good taste. We want fish that tastes good.
The bright side to all of this, yes, there is a bright side, is that it is chilly, wet, and cold outside and that means…MINNESOTA HOT DISH! WOO. You can say casserole all you want but it is hot dish up here and since I’m embedded like Donny Brasco, I say it now too. Tammy made this hamburger rice hot dish thing-a-ma-jig yesterday in the crock pot that is to die for. She’s doing a chicken thingee today since she is home with the germ monkey. And may I just mention how much I love that Tammy bakes? She is such a good baker, it’s like she went to military school at Pillsbury, was taught by General Mills, and roomed with her good friend Betty Crocker. I just finished my second oatmeal chocolate chip cookie. A couple weeks ago it was homemade banana bread. She says the secret to that one is using sour milk. I say, too much information, just slice it up please. If I want to get grossed out we can talk Lutefisk and Haggis, just don’t rain on my banana bread woman! Me? Oh I can cook too. I make a mighty mean meatloaf and I am a breakfast cooking Goddess, and as most of you know and have tasted, I AM the Grill Master (I’m waiting for Bobby Flay to throw me down, but for baking its Tammy Graham, no question)
The highlight of the weekend was that we finally joined Net Flix. Now Cathy has nothing to pester me about. Bwahahaha. Actually now I can sit and watch Joan Crawford in “Straight jacket” instantly. How cool is that? Jake’s already found the TV show place so has been watching Drake and Josh like a crazy man.
My Twins lost in three straight, sigh. Yanks took 'em down. Um, yeah, when you leave ducks on base every single inning to the total of 17 you aren't going to win. 17 men left Friday night. No team has left men on base in every single inning since 1912 and no, that's not a typo. 1912. Boo. Oh well, they tried. Bears were off this week. Vikes won. Big whoop. Their "real" schedule is about to start. You know the one where they actually play decent teams, not the soft underbelly of the NFL. (eyeroll - hee hee)
As for me this week, I'm going to drink plenty of fluids and get plenty of rest and stay away from Sarah's cooties. Poor kid. No school tomorrow either for her. Guess that's about it from here. Take care.
Love,
Diane
The bright side to all of this, yes, there is a bright side, is that it is chilly, wet, and cold outside and that means…MINNESOTA HOT DISH! WOO. You can say casserole all you want but it is hot dish up here and since I’m embedded like Donny Brasco, I say it now too. Tammy made this hamburger rice hot dish thing-a-ma-jig yesterday in the crock pot that is to die for. She’s doing a chicken thingee today since she is home with the germ monkey. And may I just mention how much I love that Tammy bakes? She is such a good baker, it’s like she went to military school at Pillsbury, was taught by General Mills, and roomed with her good friend Betty Crocker. I just finished my second oatmeal chocolate chip cookie. A couple weeks ago it was homemade banana bread. She says the secret to that one is using sour milk. I say, too much information, just slice it up please. If I want to get grossed out we can talk Lutefisk and Haggis, just don’t rain on my banana bread woman! Me? Oh I can cook too. I make a mighty mean meatloaf and I am a breakfast cooking Goddess, and as most of you know and have tasted, I AM the Grill Master (I’m waiting for Bobby Flay to throw me down, but for baking its Tammy Graham, no question)
The highlight of the weekend was that we finally joined Net Flix. Now Cathy has nothing to pester me about. Bwahahaha. Actually now I can sit and watch Joan Crawford in “Straight jacket” instantly. How cool is that? Jake’s already found the TV show place so has been watching Drake and Josh like a crazy man.
My Twins lost in three straight, sigh. Yanks took 'em down. Um, yeah, when you leave ducks on base every single inning to the total of 17 you aren't going to win. 17 men left Friday night. No team has left men on base in every single inning since 1912 and no, that's not a typo. 1912. Boo. Oh well, they tried. Bears were off this week. Vikes won. Big whoop. Their "real" schedule is about to start. You know the one where they actually play decent teams, not the soft underbelly of the NFL. (eyeroll - hee hee)
As for me this week, I'm going to drink plenty of fluids and get plenty of rest and stay away from Sarah's cooties. Poor kid. No school tomorrow either for her. Guess that's about it from here. Take care.
Love,
Diane
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Crazy as a Soup Sandwich
Please take note of the wonderful sunset from the front window of Sodium Manor Sunday night. Sarah took this photograph with her phone. Yes, with her phone. Technology still never ceases to amaze me. When I was a kid the coolest thing ever was snapping a photo with a Polaroid, ripping it out of the side of the camera, wafting your arm pit with it while counting off the 30 seconds before peeling the back off. If you peeled too soon it was ruined. If you peeled too late it was ruined. Oh what a game it was. Now, you snap and download and viola. Yes, that is pretty cool too, but with no risk it lessens the drama. How many photos do I have with stripes down the middle and blurry faces resembling Sasquatch all because I just couldn’t wait the full 30 seconds? Kind of like now, when I testily drive five miles out of my way and take 15 extra minutes rather than sit in traffic for 8 watching the driver next to me pick his nose. Oh I’m a smart one I am. They’ll never call me green and I’m glad, so there. What’s so good about green anyway? Green with envy, green-eyed monsters, green in the gills, greenhorn. There is no good green. (Green M&Ms are just slutty) Ask Kermit. He knows it ain’t easy being green. He sings that damn song for goodness sakes and we all shake our heads and give a knowing aww. So that’s what I think about green. Personal responsibility for my space and planet? Absolutely. Color of the day, flavor of the month? Never. Bush senior once drilled it into me through the media that Mohmar Khadaffi was as crazy as a soup sandwich yet he’s still running Libya decades later? What the?? And Elian Gonzalez seems just fine in Cuba last I heard. Next week it will be a new color. Well, unless we all die from H1N1. All we must ask ourselves is: What would Woodsy do? Hoot Hoot.
Speaking of hoots, we had one Friday night at Mama G’s with Deana, Donna and Maureen. You know, just when you think you know your friends they’ll up and surprise you. I had no idea Deana is obsessed with the game show, The Price is Right. No, there are no typos in that statement. THE PRICE IS RIGHT! She tapes it daily. Seriously. She even tried out for the show when they held auditions at Mall Of America last year. I had no idea. What’s even more surprising is she didn’t make the cut. If you met Deana you would be shocked she didn’t make the cut. SHOCKED I say. If anyone is PIR material, she is. All that could have been missing in my opinion were the 48DDs bouncing around. Isn’t that what you always see when you tune in? Some extra large woman bustling down the aisle when Johnny Olson shouts for her to COME ON DOWN! Ba-da-boom ba-da-boom. I believe buxom is the word. Seems like it anyway. So anyway, she didn’t make it but that woman can cite you the cost of a jar of Gold Bond Medicated Cream and a Zippo twin pack without even blinking. So of course we were all doing the Price is Right Yodel music remembering that Swiss Alps mountain climber guy. Deana says now it’s all about the Plink-O. Whatever. Life just never ceases to amaze me. Ever. Deana, my wish for you is to make the next try out. We’ll come and support you and I’ll stuff your bra with melons if that’s what it takes. GO GIRL. What a night we had. Then there was the skinny meth-head fuzzy-faced pony tail guy trying to lure Maureen outside as he was weaving past us on his way outside to smoke, and wanted her to come sit on his lap and keep him warm. Yeah, now that’s a winning pick up line. The creep factor on that guy was a 10 (insert Price Is Right yodel music here).
The rest of the weekend was spent watching the Twins and Bears. Twins tied it all up!!!! One game playoff TODAY at 4pm CST against Detroit to determine the AL Central champs. How cool is that? They’ve won 16 out of their last 20. I think they will do it too. GO TWINS. And of course my Bears won. YES!!!!! Tonight is Vikings versus Packers. VIKES WON! What a great sports time it is in the Twin Cities.
Guess that’s it for this week. Until next time….. GO BEARS
Speaking of hoots, we had one Friday night at Mama G’s with Deana, Donna and Maureen. You know, just when you think you know your friends they’ll up and surprise you. I had no idea Deana is obsessed with the game show, The Price is Right. No, there are no typos in that statement. THE PRICE IS RIGHT! She tapes it daily. Seriously. She even tried out for the show when they held auditions at Mall Of America last year. I had no idea. What’s even more surprising is she didn’t make the cut. If you met Deana you would be shocked she didn’t make the cut. SHOCKED I say. If anyone is PIR material, she is. All that could have been missing in my opinion were the 48DDs bouncing around. Isn’t that what you always see when you tune in? Some extra large woman bustling down the aisle when Johnny Olson shouts for her to COME ON DOWN! Ba-da-boom ba-da-boom. I believe buxom is the word. Seems like it anyway. So anyway, she didn’t make it but that woman can cite you the cost of a jar of Gold Bond Medicated Cream and a Zippo twin pack without even blinking. So of course we were all doing the Price is Right Yodel music remembering that Swiss Alps mountain climber guy. Deana says now it’s all about the Plink-O. Whatever. Life just never ceases to amaze me. Ever. Deana, my wish for you is to make the next try out. We’ll come and support you and I’ll stuff your bra with melons if that’s what it takes. GO GIRL. What a night we had. Then there was the skinny meth-head fuzzy-faced pony tail guy trying to lure Maureen outside as he was weaving past us on his way outside to smoke, and wanted her to come sit on his lap and keep him warm. Yeah, now that’s a winning pick up line. The creep factor on that guy was a 10 (insert Price Is Right yodel music here).
The rest of the weekend was spent watching the Twins and Bears. Twins tied it all up!!!! One game playoff TODAY at 4pm CST against Detroit to determine the AL Central champs. How cool is that? They’ve won 16 out of their last 20. I think they will do it too. GO TWINS. And of course my Bears won. YES!!!!! Tonight is Vikings versus Packers. VIKES WON! What a great sports time it is in the Twin Cities.
Guess that’s it for this week. Until next time….. GO BEARS
Monday, September 28, 2009
HEY! I love that barrette...
There I was, a Sunday afternoon in, "Up Dere" Minnesota, watching Jake's 12U baseball double header. It started out warm and sunny, and within minutes turned into a grey, cold, and uber blustery day. No unoccupied lawn chair was safe from flight and yet the game played on. Now, I'm not sure because there was a lot of sand and leaves flying around, but at one point the ump called a time out and I think I caught a brief glimpse of a pigtailed young girl, in a blue and white checkered jumper, appearing on home plate, frantically clicking her ruby red slippers and yelling something to the sky about this not being Kansas either. When I looked closer though she was gone, replaced by a chubby kid in catcher's gear named Kyler chomping gum. Weird.
Speaking of weird, normally I am the weirdo magnet in this bunch. I think it's because, much to my chagrin, I actually make eye contact with fellow human beings. I know. It's old fashioned etiquette in an age of anonymity and self-importance but old habits die hard. Anyway, during this marathon afternoon of ball, at some point I had to go make water. Tammy said she would go with me, so we tied the chairs down with shoelaces and headed to the concession stand bathrooms. Turns out they had one for women with only one stall. Um, I'm not sure but I'm guessing Frank Lloyd Wright was not involved in this architectural marvel. So in line we stood. Lo and behold a woman approaches, dressed all in brown, looking Sunday sporty in her headband and matching slacks, and she instantly gloms on to Tammy, who's in line behind me by the way, stating loudly, "Leave it to some dumbass man to design a ball park with only one stall for women!" Being the last two in line ahead of her we nodded politely and I turned away. Tammy made the eye contact. HUGE SNAFU. The woman repeats it again just as loudly and I detect an inflection I hadn't noticed before. Hmm....something's off. Then she goes on to talk about her nephew playing and boy isn't she sure glad to be out on a day like this. NOT! It was soon evident she had some challenges. I nodded and turned away, wanting to be polite but not comfortable with her sailor's language near all the children. Save that for the crowd at the bar where Brandy's serving whiskey and wine, or at night when the bars close down and Brandy walks through a silent town, did you know she loves a man who's not around? Wait I digress. At this point I'm next in line and Tammy's gently tease poking me in the back while this woman is droning on and then I hear loudly, "Hey. I really like your barrette." I know Tammy's wearing one across the back of her hair, layering her curls. I stifled a giggle. Then I hear it again preceded with a louder, "Hey! I SAID I like your barrette!" I glanced just in time to see Tammy half turn and mutter, "Thank you," Just then the woman starts petting her head and barrette. Seriously, Tammy got petted. Right about then the door opened and I walked into the restroom and as I turned to close the door, Tammy pushes right through, slams the door and says, "You're not leaving me out there with her!" Of course I was mortified yelling, "Excuse me! I don't even know you ma'am. LADY! What are you DOING in here?" It was pretty funny and Tammy was saved.
So that was Sunday so we didn't get to see the Favre game winner with :02 left on the clock, or the Twins loss to Kansas City, OR the Bears, but they're rarely on here anyway. But we did get to share a stall that actually still had toilet paper, and watch dirt devils form at shortstop and second base. Jake's team won the first and lost the second.
Saturday was Pearl's 71st birthday (Tammy's mom) so we went to the party at Tammy's sister's house in Fridley. She always makes a feast. I'm still full. Some of the kids, including Pearl, went and shagged balls at the baseball field behind the house but my back is all kinked up so I refrained. I always knew I was kinky but I didn't know it would hurt so much. Such is life and ibuprofin is underrated. I may need to visit the chiropractor but I never have liked going to the doctor.
Friday night we dropped the kids off at the St. Francis homecoming game and went up to Billy's pub to watch the Twins and wait for the call for the pick up. Then Tammy gets a text from Sarah. "STREAKER!" We were cracking up and just as Tammy was texting back, don't look, Sarah texted, "OMG! I just saw grossness!" We laughed so hard. St. Francis lost the homecoming game again for the 28th year in a row and the streaker was subdued by the St. Francis police officer, so all was well.
And that, ladies and germs, was my weekend in a nutshell. Take care. Until next time. Love you!
Speaking of weird, normally I am the weirdo magnet in this bunch. I think it's because, much to my chagrin, I actually make eye contact with fellow human beings. I know. It's old fashioned etiquette in an age of anonymity and self-importance but old habits die hard. Anyway, during this marathon afternoon of ball, at some point I had to go make water. Tammy said she would go with me, so we tied the chairs down with shoelaces and headed to the concession stand bathrooms. Turns out they had one for women with only one stall. Um, I'm not sure but I'm guessing Frank Lloyd Wright was not involved in this architectural marvel. So in line we stood. Lo and behold a woman approaches, dressed all in brown, looking Sunday sporty in her headband and matching slacks, and she instantly gloms on to Tammy, who's in line behind me by the way, stating loudly, "Leave it to some dumbass man to design a ball park with only one stall for women!" Being the last two in line ahead of her we nodded politely and I turned away. Tammy made the eye contact. HUGE SNAFU. The woman repeats it again just as loudly and I detect an inflection I hadn't noticed before. Hmm....something's off. Then she goes on to talk about her nephew playing and boy isn't she sure glad to be out on a day like this. NOT! It was soon evident she had some challenges. I nodded and turned away, wanting to be polite but not comfortable with her sailor's language near all the children. Save that for the crowd at the bar where Brandy's serving whiskey and wine, or at night when the bars close down and Brandy walks through a silent town, did you know she loves a man who's not around? Wait I digress. At this point I'm next in line and Tammy's gently tease poking me in the back while this woman is droning on and then I hear loudly, "Hey. I really like your barrette." I know Tammy's wearing one across the back of her hair, layering her curls. I stifled a giggle. Then I hear it again preceded with a louder, "Hey! I SAID I like your barrette!" I glanced just in time to see Tammy half turn and mutter, "Thank you," Just then the woman starts petting her head and barrette. Seriously, Tammy got petted. Right about then the door opened and I walked into the restroom and as I turned to close the door, Tammy pushes right through, slams the door and says, "You're not leaving me out there with her!" Of course I was mortified yelling, "Excuse me! I don't even know you ma'am. LADY! What are you DOING in here?" It was pretty funny and Tammy was saved.
So that was Sunday so we didn't get to see the Favre game winner with :02 left on the clock, or the Twins loss to Kansas City, OR the Bears, but they're rarely on here anyway. But we did get to share a stall that actually still had toilet paper, and watch dirt devils form at shortstop and second base. Jake's team won the first and lost the second.
Saturday was Pearl's 71st birthday (Tammy's mom) so we went to the party at Tammy's sister's house in Fridley. She always makes a feast. I'm still full. Some of the kids, including Pearl, went and shagged balls at the baseball field behind the house but my back is all kinked up so I refrained. I always knew I was kinky but I didn't know it would hurt so much. Such is life and ibuprofin is underrated. I may need to visit the chiropractor but I never have liked going to the doctor.
Friday night we dropped the kids off at the St. Francis homecoming game and went up to Billy's pub to watch the Twins and wait for the call for the pick up. Then Tammy gets a text from Sarah. "STREAKER!" We were cracking up and just as Tammy was texting back, don't look, Sarah texted, "OMG! I just saw grossness!" We laughed so hard. St. Francis lost the homecoming game again for the 28th year in a row and the streaker was subdued by the St. Francis police officer, so all was well.
And that, ladies and germs, was my weekend in a nutshell. Take care. Until next time. Love you!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
If the shoe fits are you an alien?
There I was, driving to work as I have done at least 6,600 times to date. Wow. That's a lot of gas. Anyway, as I passed the Holiday Station store at Xkimo and 169, bragging about its stupid $2.33 per gallon gas prices, somehow mocking me and knowing I had just paid $2.39 at Bill's Superette down the street (who exactly is "Bill" anyway?), I happened to notice a dark lump of something lying right in the middle of the road. Literally right in the middle, balanced on the center line. Assuming it was the usual skunk or squirrel road kill so popular around here I barely slowed from my 60 mph personal min. speed or glanced up from phone texting my novel (texting a novel while driving is often referred to as drivel) when something caught my eye. It was a shoe. No, it was a galosh. Singular for galoshes, this galosh was missing it's right foot. Not that Christy Brown would ever notice. Apparently his left foot was enough, the Irish braggart.
Seeing that galosh got me to thinking. Why it, why now? Why do I even see shoes in the road at all? You never see a pair of shoes, only one. Often times you will drive past a shoe out in the desolate middle of nowhere. Why? Where do these almost anachronisms come from? Do people moving not tie down their shoes and they flip out of the pick-up? Did they just walk there? My mother when in cleaning mode used to scrunch her face up, put her hands on her hips, and actually ask me if I thought my shoes were just going to walk themselves to my room. Maybe I should have waited to find out. Do domestic disputes on wheels often turn to the threatening of shoe-a-cide? (I swear, Jeananne, you stop this car right now or I'm throwing this baby out. I swear, I'll do it! It's a Hushpuppy! It's a Hushpuppy!!" BAM. Gone baby bootie Gone. Is that what happens?
I don't think so. I think it is an alien form of communication. Think about it. When you see one of those lost and lonely shoes do you ever stop to pick it up? Does it cross your mind, hey, is that an 8 narrow? I've been needing a new right shoe, damn you pubescent scoliosis. No, it doesn't. What you hear is your mother's voice saying, don't touch that it's dirty. You don't know who's foot was in there. Then in a whisper, you don't even know if they wore socks. What? Are you serious? Gee, I wonder what kind of shoes Ted Bundy wore? Yes mother, because if I were to don some article of clothing from the Ted Bundy spring break collection I'm sure I would instantly turn insane and develop and unnatural attraction to all things necrophiliac. Aileen Wuornos' thumb ring? No way! Where's the John? Puh-lease. Anyway I digress, or digest as Jeffrey Dahmer used to say. I'm thinking alien "hide-in-plain-sight" theory.
The shoes are out there, they're clearly out of place and yet we drive on, ignoring the fact that someone's footwear is living on the side of a six lane highway. Have you ever seen a shoe actually fall out of a moving car or garbage or Goodwill truck? I didn't think so. Me neither. So what gives? See, the aliens who walk amongst us, well, those with feet, have figured out what we'll ignore, and shoes on the road we'll ignore. Wallets? No. Purses? Never. Alex Forrest? She won't be ignored, Dan! But that's a fatal attraction for another day.
I don't know what it means but I know they may contain messages and probably, not certainly, but probably alien. I'm watching. Tomorrow that galosh will be gone. Have you noticed that as well? Shoe, no shoe, just like that. Someone or something is collecting them. Who? When? It's all so strange and now that I've noticed I will proceed with caution. Am I safe? Can I grab a shoe and understand it's alien meaning? We shall see, we shall see. Until next time....
Seeing that galosh got me to thinking. Why it, why now? Why do I even see shoes in the road at all? You never see a pair of shoes, only one. Often times you will drive past a shoe out in the desolate middle of nowhere. Why? Where do these almost anachronisms come from? Do people moving not tie down their shoes and they flip out of the pick-up? Did they just walk there? My mother when in cleaning mode used to scrunch her face up, put her hands on her hips, and actually ask me if I thought my shoes were just going to walk themselves to my room. Maybe I should have waited to find out. Do domestic disputes on wheels often turn to the threatening of shoe-a-cide? (I swear, Jeananne, you stop this car right now or I'm throwing this baby out. I swear, I'll do it! It's a Hushpuppy! It's a Hushpuppy!!" BAM. Gone baby bootie Gone. Is that what happens?
I don't think so. I think it is an alien form of communication. Think about it. When you see one of those lost and lonely shoes do you ever stop to pick it up? Does it cross your mind, hey, is that an 8 narrow? I've been needing a new right shoe, damn you pubescent scoliosis. No, it doesn't. What you hear is your mother's voice saying, don't touch that it's dirty. You don't know who's foot was in there. Then in a whisper, you don't even know if they wore socks. What? Are you serious? Gee, I wonder what kind of shoes Ted Bundy wore? Yes mother, because if I were to don some article of clothing from the Ted Bundy spring break collection I'm sure I would instantly turn insane and develop and unnatural attraction to all things necrophiliac. Aileen Wuornos' thumb ring? No way! Where's the John? Puh-lease. Anyway I digress, or digest as Jeffrey Dahmer used to say. I'm thinking alien "hide-in-plain-sight" theory.
The shoes are out there, they're clearly out of place and yet we drive on, ignoring the fact that someone's footwear is living on the side of a six lane highway. Have you ever seen a shoe actually fall out of a moving car or garbage or Goodwill truck? I didn't think so. Me neither. So what gives? See, the aliens who walk amongst us, well, those with feet, have figured out what we'll ignore, and shoes on the road we'll ignore. Wallets? No. Purses? Never. Alex Forrest? She won't be ignored, Dan! But that's a fatal attraction for another day.
I don't know what it means but I know they may contain messages and probably, not certainly, but probably alien. I'm watching. Tomorrow that galosh will be gone. Have you noticed that as well? Shoe, no shoe, just like that. Someone or something is collecting them. Who? When? It's all so strange and now that I've noticed I will proceed with caution. Am I safe? Can I grab a shoe and understand it's alien meaning? We shall see, we shall see. Until next time....
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Tommy Guns, Gangster Molls and More...
Machine Gun Kelly had a wife. E-I-E-I-O
And with his wife there came a gun. E-I-E-I-O
With a rat-a-tat here
and a rat-a-tat there
Here a tat, there a tat, everywhere a tat-a-tat
Machine Gun Kelly had a wife E-I-E-I-O
Huh? Ok, so the Tam and I went on the St. Paul gangster bus tour with Cathy and Andrea on Saturday afternoon. First of all, yes I am coming to grips with the fact that a bus tour would actually light me up. I age before my own eyes. They often call them cotton tours because when the miked up leader gazes down the seat filled rows, all they see are fields of white cotton tops. Yesterday was no exception. I think we were the youngest foursome on the two hour adventure.
You probably didn't know this but during prohibition, St. Paul was THE hot spot for gangsters due to the O'Connor layover law. This law, started by the St. Paul police chief, sumptin sumptin O'Connor, stated if you were a wanted criminal you could come to St. Paul any time with no hassels, but there were three rules that had to be followed. One, you could not commit any crimes while you were there (speakeasy partying not included). B. You had to sign in and out with the police so they would know who's where. And three, you had to make a donation to the policeman's retirement fund. Anyone following those rules could hang out in St. Paul with no fear of arrest. And hang out they did. It was a pretty cool tour and our leader, her photo is included, did a fabulous job. Her real name is Dawn Brody and she was leading as Catherine "Kitty" Kelly, Machine Gun Kelly's wife. Turns out she purchased her first Tommy gun from the Sears and Robuck mail order catalog. Once prohibition ended they all went into bank robbing and kidnapping and those tommy guns worked great. Anyway, we had a great time, saw parts of St. Paul's history and had a great fun time.
BEARS WIN! BEARS WIN! OMG. We looked good today. I had the game taped because Jake had fall ball at 10 and 2 today (who thinks up these schedules, I ask?) I'm beginning to think taping is not so bad after all. Fast Forwards rock. I'm just in time for the Emmy's, broadcasting in the background as I blog. Blog. It really is an onomatopoeia isn't it? Blog. Written vomit. But who will hold my fingers?
Here is yet one more example of a Minnesota moment. So the Twins are still in the AL Central hunt, so the games are getting more intense and anxious to watch, etc. Well, Friday night we packed a cooler and headed over to Bruce and New Nancy's to hang out. [Insert bad segue here] If you couldn't tell this was the weekend the kids went to their dad's until today. [Back to topic at hand] We didn't know what the evening would look like, we just knew we were going to get together. So we get over there and they have chairs set up on the deck. Oh and let me tell you this is a nice deck. It's an upper level deck that overlooks the ten heavily wooded acres they dwell on. If you are quiet you can hear the brook babbling in the background. Kind of like if you sat near my table in a bar. Babbling away... So Bruce had already hooked up a nice sized TV out on the deck, complete with cable hook up so we could all watch the game while hanging out. It was great. It got dark out and the weather was perfect light jacket weather, not too windy, not stagnant or mosquito infested. What a blast. I mean, we only have so many weekends left before the snow flies and up here it can get bad, so when it is nice out you want to be outside no matter what. Even some of the restaurants and bars up here will do whatever it takes to claim themselves as having outdoor seating. They'll knock out a wall with a sledge hammer, throw a card table out there and viola, outdoor seating. Many come complete with a view of the non-moving rusty semi trailer, usually parked next door to a place like Mike's Fish, or the local retention plant. You get the picture.
I guess that's about it for this week. We've been hanging out and having fun learning Facebook. I'm back in algebra, pretty much daily now. Sarah's in 8th grade "enriched" algebra so that means lots of homework. Enriched. So what, I found the yellow cake Uranium or something? Ugh. Or should I say I mean Ugh = Y + NYAH / BOO. It's actually been kind of fun. Sarah starts Confirmation classes on Wednesday so there's a whole new flashback of trauma for me to look forward to.
Take care everyone! I love you all!
-DIane
And with his wife there came a gun. E-I-E-I-O
With a rat-a-tat here
and a rat-a-tat there
Here a tat, there a tat, everywhere a tat-a-tat
Machine Gun Kelly had a wife E-I-E-I-O
Huh? Ok, so the Tam and I went on the St. Paul gangster bus tour with Cathy and Andrea on Saturday afternoon. First of all, yes I am coming to grips with the fact that a bus tour would actually light me up. I age before my own eyes. They often call them cotton tours because when the miked up leader gazes down the seat filled rows, all they see are fields of white cotton tops. Yesterday was no exception. I think we were the youngest foursome on the two hour adventure.
You probably didn't know this but during prohibition, St. Paul was THE hot spot for gangsters due to the O'Connor layover law. This law, started by the St. Paul police chief, sumptin sumptin O'Connor, stated if you were a wanted criminal you could come to St. Paul any time with no hassels, but there were three rules that had to be followed. One, you could not commit any crimes while you were there (speakeasy partying not included). B. You had to sign in and out with the police so they would know who's where. And three, you had to make a donation to the policeman's retirement fund. Anyone following those rules could hang out in St. Paul with no fear of arrest. And hang out they did. It was a pretty cool tour and our leader, her photo is included, did a fabulous job. Her real name is Dawn Brody and she was leading as Catherine "Kitty" Kelly, Machine Gun Kelly's wife. Turns out she purchased her first Tommy gun from the Sears and Robuck mail order catalog. Once prohibition ended they all went into bank robbing and kidnapping and those tommy guns worked great. Anyway, we had a great time, saw parts of St. Paul's history and had a great fun time.
BEARS WIN! BEARS WIN! OMG. We looked good today. I had the game taped because Jake had fall ball at 10 and 2 today (who thinks up these schedules, I ask?) I'm beginning to think taping is not so bad after all. Fast Forwards rock. I'm just in time for the Emmy's, broadcasting in the background as I blog. Blog. It really is an onomatopoeia isn't it? Blog. Written vomit. But who will hold my fingers?
Here is yet one more example of a Minnesota moment. So the Twins are still in the AL Central hunt, so the games are getting more intense and anxious to watch, etc. Well, Friday night we packed a cooler and headed over to Bruce and New Nancy's to hang out. [Insert bad segue here] If you couldn't tell this was the weekend the kids went to their dad's until today. [Back to topic at hand] We didn't know what the evening would look like, we just knew we were going to get together. So we get over there and they have chairs set up on the deck. Oh and let me tell you this is a nice deck. It's an upper level deck that overlooks the ten heavily wooded acres they dwell on. If you are quiet you can hear the brook babbling in the background. Kind of like if you sat near my table in a bar. Babbling away... So Bruce had already hooked up a nice sized TV out on the deck, complete with cable hook up so we could all watch the game while hanging out. It was great. It got dark out and the weather was perfect light jacket weather, not too windy, not stagnant or mosquito infested. What a blast. I mean, we only have so many weekends left before the snow flies and up here it can get bad, so when it is nice out you want to be outside no matter what. Even some of the restaurants and bars up here will do whatever it takes to claim themselves as having outdoor seating. They'll knock out a wall with a sledge hammer, throw a card table out there and viola, outdoor seating. Many come complete with a view of the non-moving rusty semi trailer, usually parked next door to a place like Mike's Fish, or the local retention plant. You get the picture.
I guess that's about it for this week. We've been hanging out and having fun learning Facebook. I'm back in algebra, pretty much daily now. Sarah's in 8th grade "enriched" algebra so that means lots of homework. Enriched. So what, I found the yellow cake Uranium or something? Ugh. Or should I say I mean Ugh = Y + NYAH / BOO. It's actually been kind of fun. Sarah starts Confirmation classes on Wednesday so there's a whole new flashback of trauma for me to look forward to.
Take care everyone! I love you all!
-DIane
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