Friday
Thursday
Monday
4
Today we shall have cake. Or cookies. Or a donut. Or maybe just some frozen yogurt from Costco. But we’ll have something, because today is 4 years out from having my head probed as proof that I really do have a brain.
Go on. Go have something yummy and sweet and totally not diet worthy. Use my brainiversary as an excuse to pig out, even if just for a snack.
Today we shall have cake. Or cookies. Or a donut. Or maybe just some frozen yogurt from Costco. But we’ll have something, because today is 4 years out from having my head probed as proof that I really do have a brain.
Go on. Go have something yummy and sweet and totally not diet worthy. Use my brainiversary as an excuse to pig out, even if just for a snack.
Sunday
Assorted Cells Of Grey Matter Explodeth In My Head
- I hate super-hot weather more than I hate super cold weather. With a projected high of 108 for Vacaville today—hotter than Sacramento and even Fairfield, which is within spitting distance—I think I will stay inside and contemplate all the work I should be doing.
- That doesn’t mean I’ll actually do the work. I’ll just think about it while I sit here and play online.
- I did venture out long enough to go to WalMart to buy a mop (that I may never use) and two 12 packs of Cherry 7-Up Plus. Because, you know, life without soda is not life worth living.
- I had a moment of panic when reading an email from Murf this morning; he wanted to know where in my archives to look for a eulogy-for-the-living I had written for his dad and my heart damn hear popped until I read further that he just wanted to print it out… Note to Murf: don’t do that again unless you preface it with “He’s not dead, but…”
Back in February I posted about scoring this little gem on eBay, thinking I was just bidding on the cables that connect it to my computer…I already had one. Several people emailed me, asking if they could buy the extra, but I had already promised to sell it to someone.- The person to whom I had promised to sell it needed a little time to scrape the money together, but promised she would pay for it in time for us to include that money in what we owed on our taxes. I took her at her word…Here we are in June, and I still have it.
So, if you were one of those interested, email me. I’m looking to sell for $50.It's spoken for, thanks for playing! - It’s a PDA that functions as a nifty word processor; you don’t need the serial cable that connect it to a computer if all you use it for is writing—it has a compact flash slot and you can use a card to move files back and forth—but I’ve noticed cables on eBay now for about $20. The case is a little scratched up but it works just fine.
- If no one wants it, I’m just gonna put it on eBay.
- No, I don’t know why I bulleted all this. I like bullets, I guess.
Friday
Thursday
Wednesday
You know how you feel really bad when you forget someone's birthday? Like you just kicked their puppy because for some stupid reason you thoughtit would be funny, and all it did was made them cry?
That's normal.
But please tell me why I feel bad because I forgot that yesterday was Max's birthday. It was his fifth birthday, I forgot, and I honestly do feel bad about that.
We'll make it up to him (oh stop rolling your eyes) with shrimp. But making it up to him impies I think he really cares... Oh, Lord, I am really losing it, aren't I?
Don't answer that.
That's normal.
But please tell me why I feel bad because I forgot that yesterday was Max's birthday. It was his fifth birthday, I forgot, and I honestly do feel bad about that.
We'll make it up to him (oh stop rolling your eyes) with shrimp. But making it up to him impies I think he really cares... Oh, Lord, I am really losing it, aren't I?
Don't answer that.
Tuesday
Saturday
I am a horrible housekeeper.
Hell, I feel like I should stand up in a group, everyone in those uncomfortable metal chairs used in school auditoriums and gyms for mass overflow to open events, all lined in a perfect little circle, a paper nametag stuck to my chest, as I fold my hands before me and utter, “Hello, my name is Thumper, and my house is disgusting 95% of the time.”
Everyone will then clap and praise me for my honesty, because they, too, suck at keeping a clean house. We would all smile and support one another, but because we’re all there with our butts plastered onto hard steel, no one’s house is getting any cleaner.
I walked into the bathroom today and realized I had to do it. I had to not just pick up the dirty towel on the floor and the empty TP rolls that were lined up on the counter, but I had to get down on my hands and knees and scrub. I needed to clean the toilet. I needed to wipe and clean and then wipe and clean the vanity some more.
While I was on my hands and knees, trying to get behind the toilet, I had two thoughts:
1. Whose bright idea was it to place toilets so close to bathtubs and vanities, or even walls, that getting behind it is a royal pain? Did no one ever stop to think that someday someone would be contorting themselves in order to scrub the nether regions of the throne?
And
2. This is all my sister’s fault. I suck at housecleaning, and it’s all her fault. Oh, she doesn’t know it’s her fault and I’m sure she would vehemently disagree, but I know it’s her fault. It’s her fault because, during those years when we shared a room, I never had to clean it. Now, we were both sent to our room to clean it, but after 5 minutes, she would place her hands on her hips, sigh hard, and say, “Just get out. This will be a lot easier without your ‘help.’”
Heh.
It made me very happy then, but the long term effect is that I did not learn how to clean. I learned how to avoid cleaning, and that I am very good at.
Now, don’t get the idea that there was no parental instruction involved in learning how to clean. We had to take turns setting the table, clearing the table, and doing dishes. I can do dishes. Or if I didn’t have a dishwasher, I could do dishes. But since I have one, that’s a moot skill. The thing is, by not having a dishwasher as a child, I did not learn that there is no kitchen fairy who loads the dishwasher, hence sometimes (read: often) stuff sits in the sink over night, waiting for that elusive fairy to show up.
When it came to other household chores, I was a master of getting out of it. I’m not even sure how, but I suspect it had to do with lots of whining, lots of foot dragging, lots of pointing out that my friends were outside and they needed me to play shortstop.
Oh, and did you know there’s no laundry fairy, either? Damn, was I ever surprised to find that out…
Would I like a clean house? Heck, yeah. I’d love for it to be all shiny and sparkly and fresh smelling. But getting that is work. On the whole, I’d rather be out riding or driving around topless or playing online.
Hey, I never said I was mature.
I am immature and my house is dirty and I don’t really care most of the time. Thinking about it, I don’t need the support group. Those of you with sterile, clean houses should actually envy me. While you’re vacuuming and wiping things down and dusting this and that, I’m out riding or driving, and I have a frickin’ huge smile on my face.
Yep, clean is over rated.
:::wanders off, debating: clean the kitchen, or go for a ride… :::
Hell, I feel like I should stand up in a group, everyone in those uncomfortable metal chairs used in school auditoriums and gyms for mass overflow to open events, all lined in a perfect little circle, a paper nametag stuck to my chest, as I fold my hands before me and utter, “Hello, my name is Thumper, and my house is disgusting 95% of the time.”
Everyone will then clap and praise me for my honesty, because they, too, suck at keeping a clean house. We would all smile and support one another, but because we’re all there with our butts plastered onto hard steel, no one’s house is getting any cleaner.
I walked into the bathroom today and realized I had to do it. I had to not just pick up the dirty towel on the floor and the empty TP rolls that were lined up on the counter, but I had to get down on my hands and knees and scrub. I needed to clean the toilet. I needed to wipe and clean and then wipe and clean the vanity some more.
While I was on my hands and knees, trying to get behind the toilet, I had two thoughts:
1. Whose bright idea was it to place toilets so close to bathtubs and vanities, or even walls, that getting behind it is a royal pain? Did no one ever stop to think that someday someone would be contorting themselves in order to scrub the nether regions of the throne?
And
2. This is all my sister’s fault. I suck at housecleaning, and it’s all her fault. Oh, she doesn’t know it’s her fault and I’m sure she would vehemently disagree, but I know it’s her fault. It’s her fault because, during those years when we shared a room, I never had to clean it. Now, we were both sent to our room to clean it, but after 5 minutes, she would place her hands on her hips, sigh hard, and say, “Just get out. This will be a lot easier without your ‘help.’”
Heh.
It made me very happy then, but the long term effect is that I did not learn how to clean. I learned how to avoid cleaning, and that I am very good at.
Now, don’t get the idea that there was no parental instruction involved in learning how to clean. We had to take turns setting the table, clearing the table, and doing dishes. I can do dishes. Or if I didn’t have a dishwasher, I could do dishes. But since I have one, that’s a moot skill. The thing is, by not having a dishwasher as a child, I did not learn that there is no kitchen fairy who loads the dishwasher, hence sometimes (read: often) stuff sits in the sink over night, waiting for that elusive fairy to show up.
When it came to other household chores, I was a master of getting out of it. I’m not even sure how, but I suspect it had to do with lots of whining, lots of foot dragging, lots of pointing out that my friends were outside and they needed me to play shortstop.
Oh, and did you know there’s no laundry fairy, either? Damn, was I ever surprised to find that out…
Would I like a clean house? Heck, yeah. I’d love for it to be all shiny and sparkly and fresh smelling. But getting that is work. On the whole, I’d rather be out riding or driving around topless or playing online.
Hey, I never said I was mature.
I am immature and my house is dirty and I don’t really care most of the time. Thinking about it, I don’t need the support group. Those of you with sterile, clean houses should actually envy me. While you’re vacuuming and wiping things down and dusting this and that, I’m out riding or driving, and I have a frickin’ huge smile on my face.
Yep, clean is over rated.
:::wanders off, debating: clean the kitchen, or go for a ride… :::
Friday
It’s just a little warm out there right now…Earlier, when it was only 95, I decided to put on all my gear—jacket, gloves, boots, helmet—and take the bike out for a spin. I’m not nuts; it was intentional. I wanted to see how miserable it would be riding in the heat, and if it’s something I could routinely do. I figured if it was bad, I could turn around and be home in 5 minutes.
While the bike is moving, it’s not bad, not bad at all.
Even stopped at lights, it’s not bad. The jacket keeps the direct heat off my skin, and I’m moving before I can feel it too much past the mesh. My face did start to sweat after about five minutes, and after 15 or so I stopped at KFC to get a soda. I figured I’d drink that and then head over to the library for a while.
I was only inside KFC for five minutes; when I came out and sat on the bike, the seat wasn’t just hot, it was hot.
I’m surprised my butt doesn’t have blisters.
Well, ok, I’m not limber enough to look and see, but it doesn’t feel like there are any. I’m not asking anyone to check for me.
I rode over to the library and rolled through the parking lot; all the spaces that were in the shade were taken, so I turned around and headed home.
The idea of leaving the bike sitting there in the sun for so long, the seat getting hotter and hotter, just wasn’t all that appealing. I’d kind of like to keep the skin on my backside.
Next time, I’ll take a light towel and keep it in my backpack. Or just keep riding. Riding is still a lot more fun that working.
Wednesday
Max has discovered a new way to wake me up at Way Too Early in the morning. He takes his little paw, curls it into a furry little fist, and pokes me in the eye.
Seriously.
The first time I thought he was probably just touching to see if I was alive. Second time, it was just luck . But when he did it five mornings running…he knows exactly what he’s doing. Even when I dragged the squirt bottle out and had it ready, he poked me in the eye with that furry fist of fury and then ran as I reached to spray him.
I am not a morning person and he knows it.
But this morning…I woke up at 4:15. He was curled up on the dresser, saw I was awake, and practically squealed as he jumped onto the bed and raced towards my head. I was prepared for the clawless jab to my eye, but instead he plopped down, put his head on my shoulder, and squirmed to get as close as he could.
It was still the middle of the night for me, he wanted attention, and I was not going back to sleep until he got it.
So I rubbed his little head and scratched under his chin, and tried to fall back asleep. He jammed his cold wet nose into my armpit and started to purr, but I couldn’t even manage to doze. I stayed in bed--with the exception of 30 seconds when I had to go get Buddah off the Boy’s doorknob (he wanted in and was determined…)--until 6:15, long after Max had left the bedroom.
It’s now 5:30 in the evening, and my poor ass is dragging. I don’t know how the rest of you manage to wake up at human hours.
On the whole, I think I’d rather have Max poke me in the eye at 6:30; at least then I seem to be able to get back to sleep. This cuddling crap just throws me off completely.
Seriously.
The first time I thought he was probably just touching to see if I was alive. Second time, it was just luck . But when he did it five mornings running…he knows exactly what he’s doing. Even when I dragged the squirt bottle out and had it ready, he poked me in the eye with that furry fist of fury and then ran as I reached to spray him.
I am not a morning person and he knows it.
But this morning…I woke up at 4:15. He was curled up on the dresser, saw I was awake, and practically squealed as he jumped onto the bed and raced towards my head. I was prepared for the clawless jab to my eye, but instead he plopped down, put his head on my shoulder, and squirmed to get as close as he could.
It was still the middle of the night for me, he wanted attention, and I was not going back to sleep until he got it.
So I rubbed his little head and scratched under his chin, and tried to fall back asleep. He jammed his cold wet nose into my armpit and started to purr, but I couldn’t even manage to doze. I stayed in bed--with the exception of 30 seconds when I had to go get Buddah off the Boy’s doorknob (he wanted in and was determined…)--until 6:15, long after Max had left the bedroom.
It’s now 5:30 in the evening, and my poor ass is dragging. I don’t know how the rest of you manage to wake up at human hours.
On the whole, I think I’d rather have Max poke me in the eye at 6:30; at least then I seem to be able to get back to sleep. This cuddling crap just throws me off completely.
Sunday
Friday
Poor Spouse Thingy.
Today my favorite new toy needed to go in to the dealership for its 600 mile checkup and maintenance, and because I did not want to sit there for 2 hours, he was obliged to follow me there (woohoo! I went on a road I was avoiding, and it was fun!) with the car, and then amuse me until time to pick the bike up.
Chewed off the morning, for sure.
Then we got home, opened the garage door, and realized the front right tire on my car was flat. So he had to wrestle with the jack and the lug wrench thingy and put the spare on, then go get the flat fixed (for free!)
By the time we got home, it was just about time for him to leave for an evening the Boy and I think should be called That’s Five Hours Of My Life I’ll Never Get Back.
Yep. He’s now off trying to stay awake through the class room portion of the Basic Rider’s Class.
His reward for today will be the riding part of the class tomorrow and Sunday, where he will get to go zoooooom, and where he will learn to weave through cones, take 90 degree turns, and try to do 2 U-turns in a tiny-tiny box.
I have no doubt he will pass. He’s played with my bike in the church parking lot, and he did quite well with it.
Stay tuned for the list o’things I’m gonna stick on eBay* soon…Gotta get the boy a bike of his own, because I am so not about the whole sharing thing…
*Like a nifty PDA (um, yeah, one I was going to sell back in January…the person who HAD to have it never paid for it…), womens size 10 inline skates, DDR for PS2…
Today my favorite new toy needed to go in to the dealership for its 600 mile checkup and maintenance, and because I did not want to sit there for 2 hours, he was obliged to follow me there (woohoo! I went on a road I was avoiding, and it was fun!) with the car, and then amuse me until time to pick the bike up.
Chewed off the morning, for sure.
Then we got home, opened the garage door, and realized the front right tire on my car was flat. So he had to wrestle with the jack and the lug wrench thingy and put the spare on, then go get the flat fixed (for free!)
By the time we got home, it was just about time for him to leave for an evening the Boy and I think should be called That’s Five Hours Of My Life I’ll Never Get Back.
Yep. He’s now off trying to stay awake through the class room portion of the Basic Rider’s Class.
His reward for today will be the riding part of the class tomorrow and Sunday, where he will get to go zoooooom, and where he will learn to weave through cones, take 90 degree turns, and try to do 2 U-turns in a tiny-tiny box.
I have no doubt he will pass. He’s played with my bike in the church parking lot, and he did quite well with it.
Stay tuned for the list o’things I’m gonna stick on eBay* soon…Gotta get the boy a bike of his own, because I am so not about the whole sharing thing…
*Like a nifty PDA (um, yeah, one I was going to sell back in January…the person who HAD to have it never paid for it…), womens size 10 inline skates, DDR for PS2…
Tuesday
How many people are freaking out over the date?
OMG THE WORLD IS GOING TO END!
No. No, it’s not.
It didn’t end a thousand years ago when it was 06/06/06.
It didn’t end a thousand years before that on 06/06/06.
Besides, today is not 6/6/06.
It’s 6/6/2006.
An arbitrary number on a calendar created by mere mortals.
That ’06 is a truncated number for convenience.
The Apocalypse does not begin today.
It might have started a few years ago and we just don’t know it.
But it’s not today.
Today is not the Mark Of The Beast.
Today is Tuesday.
Today is the day we go to the commissary.
That’s evil enough for one day.
OMG THE WORLD IS GOING TO END!
No. No, it’s not.
It didn’t end a thousand years ago when it was 06/06/06.
It didn’t end a thousand years before that on 06/06/06.
Besides, today is not 6/6/06.
It’s 6/6/2006.
An arbitrary number on a calendar created by mere mortals.
That ’06 is a truncated number for convenience.
The Apocalypse does not begin today.
It might have started a few years ago and we just don’t know it.
But it’s not today.
Today is not the Mark Of The Beast.
Today is Tuesday.
Today is the day we go to the commissary.
That’s evil enough for one day.
Monday
Know that uneasy feeling when you're driving and you realize there's a cop behind you, even though there's not a thing wrong with the way you're driving?
Imagine that...only you're on a motorcycle, and there's a bike cop right behind you...he's not trying to pass, but he's wandering back and forth in the lane, taunting you. It's like he's chanting, "I know you're a newby...I know you're a newby..."
I did not wet myself.
Nope.
I took the first right I could find.
Yes, I'm very brave...
Imagine that...only you're on a motorcycle, and there's a bike cop right behind you...he's not trying to pass, but he's wandering back and forth in the lane, taunting you. It's like he's chanting, "I know you're a newby...I know you're a newby..."
I did not wet myself.
Nope.
I took the first right I could find.
Yes, I'm very brave...
Saturday
BEHOLD! Found On FARK, The Wheels The Spouse Thingy Should Get...
Not just him, but every red blooded man with a taste for da beer.
Holds a case of beer and 8 pounds of ice, and cruises along at a nice 15 mph. Really now, what more could a guy ask for?
Hey, Father's Day is coming up...
Not just him, but every red blooded man with a taste for da beer.
Holds a case of beer and 8 pounds of ice, and cruises along at a nice 15 mph. Really now, what more could a guy ask for?
Hey, Father's Day is coming up...
Friday
Obviously, it was evident that I was having way too much fun, out there putt-putting around the streets of Vacaville on my bike. So, the day before yesterday, the Spouse Thingy went to the DMV and got himself a learner’s permit, and will be taking the MSF basic rider’s class weekend after next.
I am not so mean that I would not let him sit on my bike. Heck, I even let him start it up, find the friction zone, and first gear. And then I made him get off of it. My bike. Mine!
No, actually he’s been zipping around the church parking lot quite nicely and got the hang of it without a lot of effort. By the time the class rolls around it will mostly be an exercise in reinforcements for him, plus how to swerve and not run a Rider Coach over. The day after the course is over he’ll be quite capable of riding around town, I think.
So I’ll have to share my bike.
Dammit.
:::wanders off to find tons of stuff to stick on eBay:::
I am not so mean that I would not let him sit on my bike. Heck, I even let him start it up, find the friction zone, and first gear. And then I made him get off of it. My bike. Mine!
No, actually he’s been zipping around the church parking lot quite nicely and got the hang of it without a lot of effort. By the time the class rolls around it will mostly be an exercise in reinforcements for him, plus how to swerve and not run a Rider Coach over. The day after the course is over he’ll be quite capable of riding around town, I think.
So I’ll have to share my bike.
Dammit.
:::wanders off to find tons of stuff to stick on eBay:::
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