The Craving

Ben and Jerry’s and salt and vinegar.

That’s what I added to my grocery list this morning.  Then I checked the calendar for the confirmation I already knew:  PMS.

I’m craving kettle chips something wicked.  The ice cream likely will be coffee flavored.  Maybe the new one, Vermonty Python,* which I’ve already tried.  Hell, I would have tried that one just for the name.  It’s a good flavor, though I could do without the abundance of chocolate cows.  Maybe Starbuck’s.  Maybe orange sherbet (which, by the way, is a nice accompaniment to coffee ice cream).

And following today’s glorious, near 70-degree weather, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow.

Ben and Jerry’s and salt and vinegar and a good book and a movie.  “March of the Penguins” should be had better be in today’s mail.

Sounds like a plan for a rainy, PMS-y Saturday.

* Coffee liqueur ice cream with a chocolate cookie crumb swirl and fudge cows

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One

Not a lot going on these days.  It’s not a bad thing, like a rut, it’s just life as usual.  Nothing bad happening, nothing spectacular happening.  I work.  I see my friends and family.  I’ve even managed to finish that research project that’s been hanging over me for months.  In between the ups and downs, there is sometimes a plateau.  I am blissfully standing on a plateau.

Of course, there is little to write about while atop the plateau.  So, I have swiped this challenge in brevity from LA:

YOU CAN TYPE ONLY ONE WORD.  NO EXPLANATIONS.

1.  Yourself:  Girly-girl
2.  Your Lover:  Nonexistent
3.  Your Hair:  Straight
4.  Your Mother:  Recovered
5.  Your Father:  Deceased
6.  Your Favorite Item:  iPod
7.  Your Dream Last Night:  Yellow
8.  Your Favorite Drink:  Margarita
9.  Your Dream Home:  Hawaii
10.  The Room You Are In:  Office
11.  Your Pet:  Cats
12.  Who You Are Now:  Independent
13.  Who You Want to be in Ten Years:  Mortgageless
14.  What You Want to be in Ten Years:  Healthy
15.  What You’re Not:  Stupid
16.  Your Best Friend:  Olivia
17.  One of Your Wish List Items:  Pergo
18.  Your Gender:  Female
19.  The Last Thing You Did:  Lunch
20.  What You Are Wearing:  Leopard
21.  Your Favorite Weather:  Mild
22.  Your Favorite Book:  Hawaii
23.  The Last Thing You Ate:  Yogurt
24.  Your Life:  Balanced
25.  Your Mood:  Calm

Lastly,
Bumper sticker of the week:  DOG IS MY CO-PILOT.

BananaDramamine

Did you know that bananas, like turkey, contain tryptophan?  You know, that stuff that triggers s l e e p i n e s s ?  I didn’t, but I just looked it up.  Apparently, I ate the Banana of Death this afternoon, because I have all I can do to hold my head up and walk without my legs buckling beneath me.

No more after lunch bananas for me – I’m switching back to grapefruits.  Good to know, though, for those nights I can’t get to sleep:  Administer one banana and sleep like a dog monkey.

In the meantime, pray for me, that I might be awakened from this banana-induced coma.

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Sláinte!

Today I am posting an excerpt from an old entry.  Yes, I have gone into reruns.

An Irishman, an Englishman, and a Scotsman go into a pub, and each orders a pint of Guinness.  Just as the bartender hands them over, three flies buzz down, and one lands in each of the pints.The Englishman looks disgusted, pushes his pint away, and demands another pint.The Scotsman picks out the fly, shrugs, and takes a long swallow.

The Irishman reaches into the glass, pinches the fly between his fingers, and shakes him while yelling, “Spit it out, ya bastard! Spit it out!”

Sláinte!

Endless Banner

Is everyone as sick of the Endless Pools (the treadmill for swimmers) banner as I am?  How annoying is that two-frame, endless loop animation of the dude thrashing in a hot tub?  And what’s that thing at the end of the tub?  A diving board?  With a towel rod?  Wouldn’t that trip anyone attempting to dive, as if diving into a foot and a half of water isn’t already dangerous enough?

Treadmill for swimmers.  Give me a break.  I’ve been through several summers of childhood swimming lessons, was a member of Smalltown’s pre-teen swim team, and was a faithful YMCA lap swimmer for six years, and I can tell you the best part about swimming is the act of moving your body through the water, not thrashing in place while water streams by you.  I’m not salmon, you know.  I can’t leap upstream.  Oh god, is that guy in the banner ad trying to spawn?!  Eeewwww!

I did the unthinkable.  I caved in to my own curiosity.  I clicked on the banner.

“Finally a pool that makes sense!”

The base price is $19,400 (not including installation).  That’s followed by a list of about 50 options ranging in price from $100 to $8,400 each.  Yeah, that makes sense.  I’ve always wanted a pool, especially one that makes sense.  Sign me up, Pete!

Endless Pools.  The treadmill for salmon.  And dumbasses.

Exhibit D

Every once in a great while, I come across a piece of work product that amuses me.  Here’s a gem from some wannabe goon who has watched way too much of “The Sopranos” or any movie with Joe Pesci in the cast:

EXHIBIT D
Transcription of voicemail message
Received Saturday, 3:43 p.m.

Hi, ________, this is Mario ________, Lori-Ann ________’s husband, okay.  Would you tell Dr. [Client] to give me a call at ________, uh, that it would be in his best interest because my wife knows every illegal thing that was ever done in that office, okay, with billing, okay, because I am sick of him denying my wife her unemployment benefits, okay, because she never quit her job, alright.  She walked out the other day because of her stress level about, uh, her having to have to do five other people’s jobs, alright.  ‘Cause, trust me, I will call and I will take and call every single health benefits place that you people deal with, okay, and shut you people down, alright, and I will call my lawyer, alright, and I will appeal this ‘til the day is long, alright, until I get satisfaction, alright.  And it’s not a threat; it’s a promise, alright.  Okay, because you people have been doing illegal billing, alright, with ________, and Dr. C knows that by the way, alright, and I’m sure you do, okay, so you will be a part of that whole régime and everybody else, so if you people don’t want that to happen, alright, tell Dr. C to give me a call, alright, and I will not wait no longer than Monday at ________.  If I have to wait past Monday, I will be calling all the health benefits, and then you people can deal with that audit in your books, alright, and I will appeal this with my attorney, also, come Monday that my wife will be receiving her unemployment benefits.  I’m not playing a game with you people over here because you choose to not want to pay her unemployment benefits for something that she didn’t do to you people, okay.  My wife was nothing but a dedicated worker.  Unfortunately, you wouldn’t know what that’s like anyway, alright, because alls you do is walk around and start pushing buttons on people thinking that you know anything and everything.  Trust me, my wife taught you how to do your job when you walked in there, okay, because you didn’t even know how to do your own job, alright.  So take that one to the bank, honey.

End transcription.

Sometimes, evidence is wicked funny.  Alright?

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I’d Like To Solve the Puzzle

So, the most interesting thing that happened this weekend?  More interesting than dinner with Lauren, Jeannie, and Leah to celebrate Lauren’s birthday?  More interesting than that dream where I went on spring break with Lala and Mack?  (Okay, that was interesting but only in its utter bizarreness.)

It was the sign we saw on the way to the birthday dinner celebration.  The sign for Smokey Bones.  It jumped out at me.  Spoke to me.  No, no, just jumped out at me.  GARNERED MY ATTENTION, ALRIGHT?

I ordered Jeannie to pull in to the parking lot.

“We’re not eating here, are we?”

“No, no.  Check out the sign.”

Hahahahaha.

I rolled down my window and clicked away.  How fortunate that I had my camera with me to take birthday photos.  And partially unlit signs:

It’s for real, not touched up in any way.  Someday, this picture will come back to me in an email of amusing signs, I just know it, and I will have made my mark in email history.  Just remember, you saw it here first, straight from the source.

“Pat, is there a ‘y’?”

BOWLING

It turns out that I did not jinx our team by boasting about our commanding lead in the standings.  In fact, we now have an even wider lead.  AND I bowled over my average.  AND I won $8 in the pool.

Last week’s scores:  111-109-97; Games won:  2 plus pinfall.

Return to the Daily Grind/Cat Report

I’m back!  Alive and well!  I didn’t drown in the ocean or the pool or the hot tub, nor was I swept away in Thursday’s snowstorm.  (The Cape, by the way, had about eight inches of snowfall, as compared with only five or six inches at home.)

We did lots of shopping, antiquing, and dining out.  Each night, I swam laps in the pool, which I had all to myself during our visit.  Lap swimming has to be the most relaxing form of exercise there is.  I used to do it faithfully at the Y, but alas my present work commute does not conform to the Y’s schedule.  Pisser.  Someday, someday….  There was a nice whirlpool tub in our room, but it didn’t compare to the hot tub in the pool area.  Yup, I had that all to myself, too.  Sure, I know all that chlorine and hot water does a number on skin and hair, but it was sooo worth it.  That’s why god created moisturizer, right?

I also learned that my current tolerance level for round-the-clock Mom is approximately 2½ days.  No big battles or anything like that; it just takes that long for the differences in our personalities to wear on us.  Nothing a little time, space, and lap swimming couldn’t fix – that, and knowing I’d soon be blissfully home alone.

We returned on Friday in plenty of time for me to go bowling.  I did much better than the previous week – 130-89-109 (328) – and our team extended our first place lead such that we are assured our placement regardless of this week’s outcome.  From four-way tie for first, to two-way tie, to first place outright, and now this – we’re on a roll.  I hope I didn’t just jinx us.  Damn.

Saturday was Caitlin’s (Jeannie’s daughter) birthday party.  I must remember to find an excuse out of Caitlin’s and Jeremy’s future birthday celebrations.  Too many loud little cousins.  Loud little cousins all trying to be heard at the same time.  Aspirin, please!

On Sunday, I met Tim and Emma and her friend, Becca, at the downtown skating rink.  Tim wanted me to demonstrate a spin and a jump for the young novices.  We skated around a few times, got off, and asked for our money back.  They had no business being open that day, much less collecting money.  The sun was shining brightly and the ice was way too soft in the mild weather.  One end of the rink was so bad that our skates sunk in about a half-inch deep into the slush/slop/soft ice.  It was more like walking in sand than ice skating.  So much for open air skating.  Tim made some calls and found a nearby indoor rink that had public skating underway.  Emma and Becca did quite well, I thought, for only their second time skating.  I was able to show them a simple scratch spin and a waltz jump.  (Yeah, I kind of wimped out on the jump, deciding against a Salchow and instead opting for the measly half-revolution waltz.  If only I were twelve again!)

CAT REPORT

Lastly, about Tim.  I asked him to look in on the flock of cats (two’s company, three’s a flock) while I was at the Cape.  Usually I ask Jeannie, but I thought I’d give her a break this time.  Knowing I’d be gone from Tuesday morning to sometime on Friday, I left the kitties with two bowls of water, two BIG bowls of crunchy stuff (like that television commercial for who-knows-what), and a box full of clean litter.  I asked Tim to stop by on Thursday (he passes through my town on his way home from work) and even told him not to bother with the litter box (much to Princess P.J.’s dismay, I’m sure).

I came home to two bone-dry water bowls and about ten pieces of crunchy stuff between the two food bowls.  P.J. was giving me the Death Glare, while parched Rory set to licking the snow off my boots.  I replenished the bowls, and P.J. drank for about fifteen minutes straight.

What the fuck?!  Tim totally forgot?!

Or did he think it was the following week?  Or could he not find the key I stashed outside, or did Thursday’s snow inconvenience him?  And if so, why didn’t he call me so I could lead him to the key or make other arrangements (Jeannie)?  Surely, he didn’t think I wouldn’t have my phone with me.

Then, I considered giving him the benefit of the doubt (something I’m not always particularly good at).  Maybe something happened.  Jackie’s father is going through radiation treatments again… .

I called Tim and asked if everything was okay.

“Yeah, why?”

I mentioned the cats (you know, the cats who need food and water to survive), and Tim said he came on Wednesday, in anticipation of Thursday’s storm.

I let it go at that.

However, if he had been at the house just 48 hours prior, why was most of the food gone, too?  They have two cats; he certainly should know how much food to leave out.  Come to think of it, the water shouldn’t have been totally depleted in that timeframe either.  Just a couple of weeks ago (Presidents’ Day weekend), I visited Olivia.  I left the same 2/2 array of bowls, and when I returned two days later, there was a sufficient amount of cat provisions remaining.

Tres suspicious, no?

Next, I retrieved the key I had stashed outside.  I told Tim the key would be in some sort of container in the largest pot by the back door.  To be more specific, I put the key in a small Ziploc bag, zipped it, slid the key into the corner of the bag, tightly wrapped the bag around the key, put it in a small clay pot, wrapped the pot in a plastic shopping bag, stuffing the loose ends into the pot, placed the small pot into a much larger clay pot, and refilled the large pot with the dead oak leaves that had blown into it.  So when I went to get the key, guess how I found it?

Exactly the same way as I had left it (except with Thursday’s snow on top).

(A) Incredibly thoughtful brother who, despite not knowing how much food and water cats consume even though he has two of his own, replaced my key in precisely the same manner as I had left it, or (B) big fat liar?  You decide.

Needless to say, Tim is relieved from all future kitty caretaking duties.  Dipshit.

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