Anhydrous Wit

Homeless people deserve sexy, expensive underwear, too.

2012-01-24T20:07:00.002-05:00

According to this site, if you purchase one pair of underwear (or a shirt or hat for women, since the products are distinctly male-oriented), the company will donate a pair to a homeless shelter. Just think: the next time you want to impress your wife/girlfriend (or the guys at your gym, for all I know), some homeless dude will say, "Thank you!"

It's a nice thought, but wouldn't Hanes or Fruit of the Loom do just as well? For the homeless men, I mean. I still want to look good for the guys at my gym. ;)

If you can read this, I'm too close.

2012-01-24T18:08:00.003-05:00

So far, so good. If this gets posted, that means my computer was fixed, and I can get online from home again!

Your Place, Not Mine

2012-01-24T07:12:00.000-05:00

It's a good thing I'm single, or this ongoing problem with my bed would be more than a nuisance.

This is the latest chapter in what has, alas, become a saga about my bed.

You might recall that, back in August, I wondered what the cracking sound was which woke me up one night. Then, in October, I figured it out. I can't recall why it took me so long to call the company which sold me the bed (probably laziness or forgetfulness), but they said they'd notify the manufacturer and have them send me a new part. (They also asked if I had installed the feet that came with the bedrail; I had not.)

The new rail arrived, naturally, while I was on vacation. Thing One helped me take off my mattress, and the slats this past weekend. That's when we observed that the new rail they sent: 1) was different (each end is "beveled", for lack of a better word) than the broken rail and 2) was a different size (thickness and width, not length) than the broken rail. We also observed 3) that neither rail was oriented or pre-drilled to be able to attach the feet. (This may or may not be the reason I did not install the feet in the first place, but as we're getting on to a year since I first assembled the bed, I can not remember at all.) We reassembled the bed with the broken rail (flipped over, for a little more support for the time being, until either I finally get a rail I can use or until it breaks the other direction).

Yesterday after work, I phoned the vendor. (Please note that every employee I have spoken with, up to the owner, is very courteous and helpful and knowledgeable and thorough.) I asked for the owner, but he was not in, so the only message I left with the man who answered the phone was that the rail which arrived was different than the rail I already have. I'll wait to reveal all the other details when I speak with the owner himself.

I was amused to realize that the employees of that company might not remember my name offhand, but they do remember that I'm the guy from Chattanooga that has ongoing issues with his bed.

I should've realized that there would be trouble when the owner told me that I was one of the very first people to buy this new variation of an existing bed model.

I'll need a new bar of soap tomorrow, though.

2012-01-24T06:49:00.003-05:00

As I got out my shower/shave kit at the gym this morning, I noticed that my can of shaving cream is getting lighter. Naturally, that replaced the song that had been in my head with this.

I just flew in from Albuquerque...

2012-01-19T06:42:00.003-05:00

...and, boy, is my whole body tired! Going to bed at 11 p.m. and getting up at 4:30 a.m. is not good.

As soon as I have enough sleep to focus, I can tell you about my trip.

Imponderable Question #7

2012-01-05T06:53:00.001-05:00

If something falls in your dwelling (with or without the aid of a household pet), does it ever fall when you're not sound asleep?

At least it wasn't tonight, the night before I spend all day at work and then half of the night (well, my night, not your night) on a plane or in an airport. (Don't worry; I'm sure something will keep me from sleeping tonight, so I'll be nice and grumpy all of tomorrow.)

Let them eat (my) cake.

2012-01-05T06:48:00.000-05:00

At the end of every quarter, our bowling league secretary distributes money from the prize fund and brings an almond-flavored cake. Last night, because I had a big dinner, I restricted myself to just one piece of cake, and I paced myself about eating it, through all three games. At the end of the third game, I looked for my cake, but it was gone. Someone had thrown it away! Where's my cake? I wasn't finished yet. Dagnabbit, I want my cake!

This incident reminded me of a conference I attended during college. Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting was the dessert served during the final, awards dinner. I was nearly done. All I had left to do was to scrape the remaining frosting from the plate. I was holding my fork directly over the plate. Out of nowhere, a waiter reached over my shoulder, grabbed my plate, and took off, walking briskly. He moved so quickly, and I was so stunned, I didn't even call after him to complain.

I should've kept the fork.

New Year, New Jacket

2012-01-03T07:08:00.000-05:00

A few days before the end of the year, the zipper on my work jacket started separating. I asked Thing One, who is a whiz at sewing, if it was possible to replace the zipper. Yes, she told me, but she wouldn't do it -- not because she didn't want to or couldn't but because it's a pain in the neck and probably will turn out misaligned.

So, I have a warm, durable jacket that can't even be donated to charity because of one lousy zipper. I can't blame the jacket, though, because it has lasted me decades. Honest. I think my mom bought it for me when I was still in high school. It had a good, long, useful life. Still, I hate to ponder getting rid of it. After all, a good Cap'n doesn't give up the zip. ;)

I then had to wear my brand-new jacket that I had bought for casual use (because I didn't want to wear my work jacket out into the world, in case it was smutty). Wouldn't you know it? The first day I wore it (that brand-new, casual jacket), I stood a little too close to the loader that Skippy was using to pick up broken concrete, and I got mud on it.

Yesterday, I had to look in a store for something my friend Gimpius Maximus wants. (He got the last one where he lives and thought I could find the second one he needs.) We went to that store and several others in that shopping center and the smaller Maul (Should I call it the Smaul?). I found what he wanted, but I also got into trouble. We spotted a brand-name, wool blend topcoat that felt really nice (5% recycled cashmere fibers) and looked sharp on me. It was on sale for 50% off. I was trying to convince myself that I shouldn't think of it as spending too much on a coat; I should think of it as buying a quality coat that would last me the rest of my life. My reasoning process was saved when we couldn't find one in my size. Still, they had a water-resistant, winter jacket (60% off) which I bought for work. Then the cashier scanned a coupon to give me an additional 15% off. (When Thing One and I get together, our powers of charm and thrift tend to synergize, and we end up getting deals we never expected.)

At another store, we found a similar style topcoat that cost less, was also 50% off, had the same amount of wool in the blend (but no cashmere) -- and had one in my size. We walked by the display of hats, and Thing One wanted to see how I'd look in a knock-off fedora. Lo and behold, they actually had one large enough to fit my large, oddly shaped head! (Hats were on sale, too.) Then we passed the clearance rack, and there was a brown, faux suede jacket that fit me and looked sharp, too. For some odd reason, though, there was no check-out register in the men's department, so we slogged over to shoes. (My arm was getting tired, holding up the coat and jacket.) On the way, an unknown but very kind woman approached us, said, "Here. You look like you need this," and handed us a 15% off coupon. (See? Synergy.)

I spent far more money than I should have. (My last credit card bill had the gift certificates I bought for my employees' Christmas presents, but not the airfare for my upcoming trip home, so I was already running along the ragged edge of too-much spending.) In my defense, I used "Australia Rules", everything I bought myself was on sale (even before the synergy), I did acquire Gimpy's item (the only thing not on sale), and I got my monthly supply of protein bars, as well as the protein bars for two of my employees, who are riding the coattails of my discount.

I really ought to go to the department store's website and see if they can get me one of those topcoats in my size. After all, it was charcoal gray (I look good in gray), and the one I did buy was black, and those are two completely different things...

Adopt a sheep today.

2012-01-01T13:32:00.002-05:00

Be sure you take good care of it, too. Give it anything it wants. After all, doesn't everybody want a happy ewe near?

Welcome to Griffin's Gym

2011-12-31T16:34:00.001-05:00

Some of the weight machines I use have the following stickers on them. "Stay clear while machine in use."

A Frank Self-Assessment

2011-12-31T16:32:00.003-05:00

Before getting dressed after swimming this morning, I figured I'd take a year-end look at myself in the mirror, to see what condition I'm in. It was just as I feared: I look nothing at all like Frank.

I knew I should've gone to bed at seven.

2011-12-30T06:52:00.002-05:00

It's not like I was exhausted or anything; I just felt tired at 7 p.m. yesterday. I thought I could relax in bed for a while with a book (rather than playing computer games and reading while waiting for my next turn, which is what I had been doing). I decided it was way too early and waited an hour before taking my book to bed. Wouldn't you figure I slept like crap last night? (Insert title here.)

I was dreaming about my bowling league. Judging from the conversation, Ronald Reagan had just been reelected President. I wondered if my college friend Helgi was around, and then I started doing the math. Let's see... that was 1984, so he would've been twelve, so, no, he wouldn't be in this adult's bowling league. For that matter, I would've been thirteen, so what was I doing there? (Based on my limited exposure to Doctor Who, I figure that this type of confusion is standard for humans new to wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff.) One of the bowlers suggested we meet "at the bowling alley on Brainerd Road" next time. Another one asked for directions. As I pondered what to tell him, since the only alley on Brainerd Rd. I know about (in 2011) obviously couldn't exist yet (in 1984), someone else gave him directions, and said it was the one "near Watercress Road". Oh, yeah, I know where that is. I thought I might drive by to see what was there now (in 2011). I got into my car and leaned forward to put my key in the ignition switch, but I couldn't because it was on the passenger side, and I had to wait for a fat woman to buckle her seatbelt first. Then I realized that the woman's husband was in the driver's seat, and I was in the back seat. Before I could get my key into the ignition, and before I could figure out if I was in my car or theirs (which I called a Volvo, but it might not have been), my alarm clock went off and woke me up.

Obviously, since this dream was about bowling and contained a tangential reference to Doctor Who, I blame Betty entirely for the dream. There might even really be a Watercress Road for all I know.

Truth is stranger than accurate hearing.

2011-12-23T07:44:00.002-05:00

I have NPR's "Morning Edition" on my computer while I'm trying to type my blog posts. This is an admirable feat, considering how terrible I am at multitasking, especially at trying to ignore words being spouted at me while I write or read words.

This is why, during a news item about politics, I presume the announcer said "leaders", but I heard "looters of the House and Senate".

If multitasking were normally this fun, I might try it more often!

A Rant on Behalf of my Employees

2011-12-23T07:25:00.002-05:00

Our official days off for the holiday are today (since Christmas Eve is on a Saturday) and Monday (since Christmas is on Sunday). The past two years, Skippy has let everyone go home early (about lunchtime) on the day before our days off. It didn't happen yesterday, so my empl...

Wait. It did happen? What? When?

Mid-afternoon, I phoned Skippy (who was on an errand to Atlanta to pick up something for someone to put in some building on campus) to let him know our brush-grinding contractor had started working, and I also wondered aloud why campus seemed so empty and Froggy and Thing One's cars weren't outside the office. That's when I found out that we had been allowed to leave at noon. He sounded surprised that I wasn't aware of it.

No one called me or left a voice mail on my cell phone. No one called me or left a voice mail on my office phone. No one e-mailed me. No one sent me a text message. No one made an announcement over the two-way radios that all managers and most staff members carry. No one told me in person. (Yeah, I know, how old-fashioned could that be?)

I can't prove it, of course, but I have a feeling that Froggy and Miss Kitty assumed that everyone would be let go at lunch "as usual", phoned Skippy and browbeat him into agreeing to it, and then chose not to inform me. Possibly (if I want to be nice), they thought Skippy would tell me. Maybe even Skippy sent a text message to the managers but accidentally left my number off the list.

As a result, everyone else got four hours paid not-work, and my crew got two. Come Monday, I'm going to raise a stink in our management meeting. I'm going to be nixed, of course, when I say my employees are owed two hours of comp. time, and Froggy is going to claim it's my fault that I didn't know. (Miss Kitty would say it, but she's back to not speaking to me.) Razzlefrazzlesnarfin...

"Life isn't fair, Calvin."
"Yeah, but why can't it ever be unfair in my favor?"

All I want for Christmas is a five dollar sweatshirt.

2011-12-23T06:42:00.002-05:00

The sweatshirt I wear to work is too big. (Imagine me saying that about anything.) That's what comes of assuming that I could buy the same brand and style I already have for working out, just in a larger size to have the proper sleeve length. It appears that I do have to try on every item of clothing I want to buy from now on. (Oh dear, what about underwear?) At least I paid only five bucks for it in the first place.

I'm dreaming of a wet Christmas.

2011-12-23T06:41:00.001-05:00

I think the rain is over for a couple of days. I hope. At least it's not snow.

Bowling with Doctor Bob

2011-12-20T06:37:00.002-05:00

Last Friday was the school's annual faculty/staff bowling tournament. I had two good games and one terrible one, so I averaged out to average. Don't ask me who won, because I don't know. The winners were supposed to be announced at the faculty/staff Christmas party that night, but I'm not allowed to attend that. Apparently, it's okay for me to partake in a "blue collar" event, but hobnobbing with administrators is something Skippy saves for himself. (Or maybe it's because there's alcohol served at the party.)

I had met my teammates before, and actually whomever put us together did a pretty good job of matching our personalities. One of them is a guy who likes to be called "Doc", instead of his first name, by his coworkers. I have trouble not calling him "Doctor Bob", not only because his name is Bob, but also because he looks like Soupy Sales with a really large nose (not the shape of Rowlf's, but that obvious).

On the off chance you have no idea of whom I am speaking, here's the debut of "Veterinarian's Hospital".

Hiring and Test Firing

2011-12-19T06:53:00.002-05:00

The mystery I'm reading during my morning cardio has a character whose husband is running for office. The character has to attend public appearances and be shepherded around by the campaign manager and appear as a happy, supportive wife. That appears to be much like real life. (We will presume, for the sake of argument, that the same occurs if the wife is running for office and the husband plays contented spouse.)

What if, however, the spouse doesn't want to do this? "I'm sorry, dear. I love you, but I hate this job you're going for." Indeed, why do spouses need to be visibly supportive of politicians' lives?

What if political offices were handled like "normal" jobs? What if candidates were "hired" instead of elected? As applicants, the candidates would provide resumes of relevant, past experiences. Debates would be replaced by interviews. (Where I used to live, the League of Women Voters would submit a list of questions to each candidate. The candidates' answers (or statement that the candidate did not respond) would be printed in one issue of the local newspaper.) Questions about religion, family, ethnicity, disability, etc. would be prohibited. (That should clear out some of the fluff from campaign coverage.) Applicants would be hired for short-term contracts and could reapply, if interested, when their contract is due to expire. Applicants also could be fired for cause (recalled) before the contract ends.

The bathroom book I'm reading is by Werner von Braun and concerns a theoretical trip to the moon. (The book was written in the late 1950's.) My first thought was to wonder if President Kennedy was influenced by von Braun when he set the nation's goal to land on the moon, knowing it was theoretically possible, rather than just wanting to "beat the Russkies". My second thought, regarding the book's illustrations of the moon rocket, was that the rockets were almost exactly like that. (Well, yeah, if you're going to design a rocket, you'd be a fool to ignore advice from von Braun or Robert Goddard.) My last thought (so far; I'm not done the book yet) was that von Braun's idea of the capsule that returns from the moon to the earth was extremely like the Space Shuttle: airplane-shaped and designed to glide through the atmosphere. I marveled at the concept which was put forth twenty years before it was actually implemented. (Yes, a little part of me realizes that this probably is a suitable incubation time for developing the technology and getting Congress to provide funding.)

I wonder what other ideas are out there?

Please show me what I've won, Vanna.

2011-12-14T15:56:00.003-05:00

Hmm, based on my previous post, maybe the beautiful weather is what I won. Let's see if you agree I deserved it.

You'll recall that Miss Kitty hasn't spoken to me in almost six months. Until today, that is.

She got so mad in our daily managers meeting that she spoke angrily to me today. All I did was offer to print out a form one of her employees might need, and she blew up, saying that it's her employee and she can print it. I think she was already upset by the employee, so even though I pointed out that I was the only one here whom the insurance company sent the form to, so it makes sense (ah, that's the problem!) for me to print it or e-mail it to her, she vented at me. It's a shame Skippy wasn't there to witness it -- or maybe she felt safe enough to get mad out loud because he wasn't there.

Anyway, there's just half a month before she retires and leaves town, so I don't care. Actually, it means that I beat her at her own game, since I got her to talk to me before her six months ended. (Ooh, that's gotta hurt.)

Good luck finding the toll-free number to call the insurance company and ask for the form. :)

When I'm 6" deep in snow and complaining about the cold, I'm sure you'll remind me of this day.

2011-12-14T15:54:00.003-05:00

Depending on which online weather source you believe (and where the thermometer is), it's either 63 or 68 degrees Fahrenheit in The Noog. I'm in my shirtsleeves, thinking I didn't need my undershirt today. I had the windshield open in my Gator. Is this really December?

And the winner of the "Well, duh!" category is...

2011-12-13T12:54:00.002-05:00

Yet another article explaining introverts to the rest of the world. If you don't want to spend the time reading it, I'll summarize it for you.

1) It says nothing we don't already know.

2) The authors misspell "extrovert" throughout the article.

3) Many of the listed characteristics nail me, but I won't repeat them because that would take up too much space.

4) My favorite line of the entire article is this. "It does not need to be cured."

Even my underwear was black (although I didn't plan it that way).

2011-12-12T06:38:00.003-05:00

On Friday morning, we found out that Froggy's employee had succumbed to his cancer. (My employee's surgery last month was successful, and he started chemotherapy last week, so we expect to have him around a little while longer.) So, on Sunday afternoon, I attended his funeral. Knowing the general dress code of The Noog, I figured I wouldn't need a tie. I wore my "casual dressy" clothes (you know, the type I'd wear to impress a date, if I ever had a date), mixed and matched so that everything was black. I needn't have worried. Several people there weren't in black (including the deceased's children). No one was in jeans, though, so that's something.

Afterward, I went home and hung my Christmas lights. After all, nothing says "joyous celebration" like a funeral.

This, of course, begs the question, "So, Brain, what are we doing next Sunday at 2 p.m.?" The answer is, "The same thing we do every Sunday at 2 p.m., Pinky: go to a memorial service."

This time, it will be for the neighbor who died of cancer, the day after the employee. Egad, I hope this is the last one for a while.

It's Rhyme Time

2011-12-09T06:42:00.002-05:00

A new vehicle appeared in our school's bus lot. It has arched windows, native American pots at strategic locations, a wide swath of basketweave pattern, and faded red stripes. It definitely doesn't look like one of our school buses. "What's the bus from Mexicali doing in the parking lot?" I asked Skippy. He explained that it was bought used (for a school with money, why don't they buy anything new?) and would be refinished to become our on-campus shuttle (since our precious visitors can't walk from the parking lots to the buildings).

I started thinking about this, once I realized that the city I named rhymes with our school's name. And it doesn't look like a bus so much as an old-fashioned means of public transportation. And, if my grandmother were to ask my mother about it, using her pet name for my mom, the question would come out like this.

What's the Mexicali trolley doing at McCallie, Dolly?

Me and My Big Mouth

2011-12-07T06:40:00.001-05:00

It figures. The day after I say that it doesn't rain on my way to the gym but does on my way out... Today, it rained both before and after.

Oh, well. Having a perfect record is too stressful, anyway.

Coincidence or Consistency?

2011-12-06T06:46:00.002-05:00

On days when rain is forecast, I walk to the gym wearing my raincoat but not needing it. When I leave the gym, it's raining. This always happens (so far). Why? This isn't going to be like all those light poles back in NM that turned off whenever I walked under them, is it?

a.k.a. Clean-Out-Your-Freezer Soup

2011-12-05T06:41:00.002-05:00

Thing One offered me her turkey carcass to make soup after Thanksgiving. My cupboard isn't full of spices and seasonings, but I thought I'd give it a try.

I had the turkey skeleton (with enough meat still attached to make it worthwhile). Oh, hey, there's that leftover barbecued pork. Just for fun, I'll add some kielbasa. Hmm, need filler... Look, I have some barley! (Mum uses barley when she makes soup.) I think I'll stick in some noodles, too. (Soup is more fun with noodles.) Now for spices... Salt and black pepper, naturally. (And who cares about measuring, anyway?) I don't remember why I bought that container of dried, minced onion, but I know onion is a common, soup ingredient. (That one I did measure, guessing how much water it would absorb.) This probably would be a good time to use that little package of red pepper flakes I must have gotten with a pizza some time ago but didn't ever throw out because it would be wasteful, even though I never use red pepper flakes. Finally, toss in that package of frozen veggies, since it has carrots in it, and carrots, too, are a common, soup ingredient.

The soup turned out pretty danged good! (I could taste the red pepper flakes.) For a soup without any fancy (or even pre-planned) ingredients, it's super-effing remarkable. I'm thinking of calling it International Soup or Multicultural Soup. Accidental Soup wouldn't be too far off, either.

A long, almost lazy weekend

2011-11-28T06:49:00.002-05:00

I'm actually glad to be back in the office. Mind you, it has been raining steadily since yesterday afternoon, so I'll be scrambling to find work my crew can do, but I was starting to feel tired of being home for four days.

Or maybe I was tired because I slept like crap the entire weekend -- and I couldn't sleep in. On Thursday and Friday mornings, I did my normal workouts. On Friday, Saturday, and Sunday mornings, I arrived early at a store in Idiotville. (Shopping in Idiotville after Thanksgiving? That makes me an idiot.)

It wasn't as bad as I feared. Traffic was pretty light, and I went to a store that wasn't as sought after as others. Parking was full at the nearby Maul and Toys 'R' Us, but I found close spaces at my store.

I went to Cost Plus World Market each morning for three mornings. Why? Because they were giving away a free Tintin ornament and voucher for a movie ticket to the first 100 customers each day. (What kind of Tintin fan am I that I didn't know there was a movie coming out soon?)

So, I got my three ornaments and ticket vouchers. (I was 33rd in line the first day, 1st the second day, and 3rd the third day.) I also plan on entering the store's sweepstakes for a trip to Belgium. (I won't link to it, lest you also enter, thus reducing my chance of winning.) If I win, I'll take one of my brothers, also a Tintin fan. (And he'll tell me that he doesn't remember any of the French he took in high school.) I didn't get second ornaments for him because I couldn't talk Thing One into accompanying me rather than sleeping in.

The rest of the weekend, I ate turkey and read and played computer games. If it weren't for the ornaments, that's all I would've done, and that certainly wouldn't have been worth blogging about on its own.

Consider it a verbal flyswatter.

2011-11-18T19:15:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, as we prepared to leave our daily meeting, Thing One yawned for quite a long time. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "I'm catching flies."

I stifled my laugh but couldn't help but smile. After all, she was standing next to the sourpuss Miss Kitty, and I remembered that you can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar.

Later in the day, I was pondering how nice it might be to stick it to Miss Kitty one last time before she retires. She has gotten even sourer and more mean-spirited than I thought possible. Can she not be happy about anything anymore?

How, though, could I be clever enough to zing her in a way that 1) can't be retorted and 2) isn't blatant to everyone else. I thought of it (and Thing One helped me refine it) after surprisingly little time. It's clever, it's short, and it sticks it to her just subtly enough.

I will sign, on her retirement card, "I hope you'll be happy in Texas."

'Tis the season, but I'm not jolly yet.

2011-11-18T06:55:00.002-05:00

Skippy said yesterday that the company which decorates the school's live tree for Christmas every year would be here today. Naturally, they showed up yesterday. Even though we're still a week away from Thanksgiving, the lights were on last night. Ho-ho-ho, and all that rot.

As I passed by the building which houses the band room, I heard the students practicing the song "I Saw Three Ships". Naturally, it got stuck in my head. Also naturally, I thought how easy it would be to parody that song. I came up with this.

My waitress asked me, "Red or green?"
"Red or green?" "Red or green?"
My waitress asked me, "Red or green?"
On Christmas day in the morning.

I think it's because Thing One has been talking about making tamales and posole, traditional Christmas-season dishes for some people. (Now those are symbols of Christmas I don't mind coming early!)

I thought up a second verse this morning.

Tamal, posole, refried beans,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day.
Tamal, posole, refried beans,
On Christmas day in the morning.

Yes, "tamal", not "tamale" is the correct singular form of "tamales". (How about that? "Mr. Language Person" is also "Mr. Foreign Language Person"!)

I hereby invite you to contribute whatever verses you can imagine. They don't have to be Mexican-food related. And, as you can see in this link, I varied the form by repeating the first line in my first stanza, but I kept the second line intact in my second stanza. Heck, if we're making a parody, why not vary it? (Scroll down in the link for sheet music, if you're not familiar with the tune.)

Have fun! Share and enjoy! (And if you're sharing tamales and posole, call me!)

Share This! (Like a Disease)

2011-11-18T06:52:00.003-05:00

I follow a couple of blogs that normally post things like this, so it amazes me that I haven't seen this link before. You, too, can buy your own plushy diseases! (Vinyl now available, as well.)

Updated: I thought of an effective marketing slogan -- but it might generate a lot of attention but not actual sales. "Give your spouse VD for Valentine's Day."

Another Sure-fire Moneymaker from the Cap'n

2011-11-14T06:44:00.003-05:00

I'll open up a seaside fitness center called Shipshape. Its slogan will be, "We specialize in thighs and glutes. We'll leave no stern untoned."

If I keep this guy around, I'll never need to think of another blog topic again.

2011-11-09T06:53:00.002-05:00

Right before clocking out yesterday afternoon, one of my new employees was talking to Cold Miser about anti-matter. He ought to know better than to try explaining science to a Jesus Krispy; Cold Miser was resistant to what he thought wasn't proven. (Naturally, he didn't see the irony that he firmly believes in an unproven God.)

"Stop smiling, Boss," my employee said.

"I can't help it," I replied. "Cold Miser said it doesn't matter. He's right; it doesn't, because it's anti-matter."

I haven't gotten a laugh from a group that large since college. (I need to find more groups.)

It pays to enrich your word power.

2011-11-08T06:45:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, I experienced another vocabulary discussion between my two newest employees.

"Boss, are you familiar with the term 'conflaggeration'?" (Well, that's how he pronounced it.)

Since they knew what "conflagration" meant (even if not how to pronounce it), they were hypothesizing that the capacity of being flammable must be "conflaggerable", the state of actual burning must be "conflaggerizing", and the result of combustion must be "conflaggerated".

How did I get named as the judge in these sort of things?

Naturally, I whipped out my large dictionary to settle the matter. First, I pointed out the proof that I pronounced "conflagration" correctly and they didn't. Second, I read to them that there is only one variant (at least in this edition of this dictionary) of that word, and that is "conflagrant", which means "burning intensely; blazing". (I'll give them a point for logically extrapolating other words, but they're still in negative numbers for being incorrect and not knowing how to pronounce the word in the first place.)

Speak softly and carry a big dictionary.

This is why you'll never see me in cowboy boots.

2011-11-07T06:47:00.003-05:00

I hunted for shoes this weekend, but I didn't bag any. I did see one species I liked, but it was smaller than the allowable limit. All the others were out of season.

I mentioned to Thing One that work shoes were on sale at a particular store, and she told me to check out a special shoe store first. Apparently, "special" in this case means it's where overstocks go to die. Do you recall how Ollivander's shop was described in the first Harry Potter book? Do you know how COAS has room upon room of shelves stacked to the ceiling? That's what this place was like. It's a pity they didn't have any my size. Well, okay, they had shoes in the proper length, but they all were medium or wide, or D or EEE widths.

It's not just this store. I can't find shoes my size unless I go to one of those fancy, high-priced stores (and, even then, they can't always give me what I want). Am I the only man in America with B-width feet?

I did! I did taw a puddy tat!

2011-11-04T19:06:00.002-04:00

The second kitten is alive and well at Thing One's house. He still is adjusting to the environment, and he threw up once, but he used the litter box correctly. He's very receptive to scritching but looks dubiously at Thing One's giant but loving German Shepherd. (The dog is so loving, she previously nursed a kitten. Really, I mean produced milk for a cat.)

The kitten is pure black and has green eyes. Thing One wanted to name it something to do with Halloween, since that was about when the kitten was found, and since it is black. Renfield (that must be an inside joke with Thing One) didn't fit. Igor wasn't quite right, either (even when pronounced eye-gore). Jack (as in Jack o'Lantern) couldn't be used because that was used by a prior family cat. I believe that they have settled on calling it Trick (as in Trick or Treat), a name suggested by yours truly. :) Not only does it fit the Halloween theme, it also fits the tradition of giving most of their pets names which begin with "T". Am I awesome, or what?

Sharing My Evil Genius with the World

2011-11-04T06:43:00.002-04:00

I know I have a small group of readers, but, every so often, someone might stumble across my blog and wonder, "Who is this guy, who thinks he's so witty?" Then, of course, they discover how truly awesome I am. I'm humble, too. :)

This isn't a new thought for me, but it's a new blog topic. Seeing as how I work at a high school and use their weight room for my workout, I thought this morning of something I had shared with my friend Betty some time ago. It was about our high school fight song.

Hoorah for lions!
Hoorah for lions!
Someone in the crowd's shouting
Hoorah for lions!
1-2-3-4
Who are we for?
Lions, that's who!

Something had always bugged me about that song, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Finally, it dawned on me: there were two things wrong with that song. So, I revised it to be grammatically and mathematically correct.

Hoorah for lions!
Hoorah for lions!
Someone in the crowd's shouting
Hoorah for lions!
1-1-2-3
For whom are we?
Lions, that's whom!

You know what I'd like to see? I'd like to see a football team go to every marching band competition. It's only fair, since I had to go to every darned football game, just because I was in the marching band.

Take two; they're small.

2011-11-04T06:39:00.002-04:00

My mom always said that sarcastically whenever one of my brothers or I would take a larger helping than we should. Here, it has a more literal translation. I thought it also would be a nice title since it's more like a movie retake.

There was a second kitten in our equipment yard. It was rescued by one of my employees and taken home by Thing One at lunchtime. I wasn't her chauffeur this time (can you believe I spelled that word correctly the first try?), and I haven't spoken with her since, so I have no word on this kitten's health, nor even its color.

Further updates as events warrant.

Three Words: Chocolate Bacon Cake

2011-11-03T06:54:00.003-04:00

You think I'm kidding, don't you? You think this comic was a fluke. It has been proven, however, that lightning can strike twice in the same place. (There's a tree on this campus that could testify to that, if it could speak, of course.) Here's a prior example I know about. (I encourage you to listen as well as read; it's fun.) I would suspect that someone out there has already tried to make one. I'm not sure I could bring myself to taste it, though.

Requiem for a Kitten

2011-11-03T06:49:00.003-04:00

Upon arriving at work yesterday morning, I heard something that sounded like meowing. It was a kitten, hiding under the shipping container which Froggy dumped in our parking lot some months ago. I asked Thing One to notify the local animal shelter, as I figured someone would adopt it. She wanted it, though, since she has a soft spot in her heart for animals.

She came to pick it up, cuddled it as I drove her home, and gave it a saucer of milk. It wasn't until she put it on the rug that we realized the poor thing's back legs didn't work at all. Alas, it still went to the shelter, but for an entirely different reason. At least it was comforted and fed in its last hours.

I lose more denim jackets that way.

2011-11-03T06:45:00.003-04:00

It wasn't until I had arrived home and stepped out of my car last night that I realized I had left my jacket at the bowling alley -- and that my cell phone for work was in the pocket. So much for going to bed on time. I drove back to the bowling alley but couldn't find it. I left a message at the desk and hoped that one of my league mates picked it up for me. When I got home the second time, there was my teammate, parked in front of my apartment. "I thought you'd probably need this," he said.

That was almost the second time I had lost a denim jacket in the bowling alley. The first one was back in college. That time, it wasn't so much the jacket I minded losing; it was the button I had on it, which read, "I refuse to grow up."

Variations on a Theme by Cap'n

2011-11-02T06:56:00.003-04:00

I still think it's odd that one online quiz calls me a bumble bee. Sure, I work hard for the good of the hive, but I'm not ready to be called a social insect. Along those lines, I thought of this lyric parody this morning.

He works hard for the honey.
So hard for the honey.
He works hard for the honey,
So you better treat him right.

Any implication or double entendre about honey is entirely up to you and your dirty mind.

After that, how can I not share this?

Now would be a good time to hope for a nuclear holocaust.

2011-11-01T07:23:00.002-04:00

People often bemoan the current youth (whatever they consider "youth" at whatever time) and say that they fear for the future of the planet. Today, I offer you proof that we are in trouble.

A student currently enrolled at this school sent an e-mail, requesting "lofting" materials for his dorm bed. Skippy replied to the e-mail, asking, "What dorm and room are you in?"

Wait. It gets worse.

The student replied, "I am in Presley and I am pretty sure I am in 211."

The really sad part is that he didn't even spell the name of his own dorm correctly.

What kind of insect are you?

2011-11-01T07:04:00.002-04:00

No, this isn't a stupid, internet quiz (although I did try out two before I started this post). It's a comment on my life.

It struck me yesterday that, if an alien life form came to Earth and observed my behaviors for the past week, it would think I'm a social butterfly. I've been out, doing something, every day. I stayed up late almost every night. In that case, I feel like a blend of the ant and the grasshopper (and the grasshopper at night creates one tired ant in the morning).

Normally, I'm not like this. I tend to be sedentary and seldom emerge from my cocoon (so to speak). Still, occasional fits of social behavior do come over me, and I go out and meet others on infrequent occasions. I think what I really am is a social cicada.

Oh. The quizzes? One result calls me a bumble bee. It's not as dippy as it sounds. It claims, "You are hard working and people don't want to piss you off." I guess that's not far off. The second quiz was more precise, though. According to it, I am a praying mantis because, "You are very intelligent, inquisitive, patient, and well respected by your peers. However you tend to be a loner."

Cover your head.

2011-10-31T06:38:00.002-04:00

It was supposed to get cold (below 40 deg. F) last night, so when I headed in to the gym this morning, I expected to be shivering. I had on my shorts and T-shirt, a medium-weight jacket (zipped up), and a knit hat and some gloves. It was just about 40 F, and I was comfortable, even though my legs were exposed. I didn't wear the sweatshirt I brought. I think the difference was covering my head and hands.

Five Years On

2011-10-30T20:09:00.000-04:00

Today marks the fifth year since my father died.

In a mentally disturbing coincidence, I was at a bowling friend's birthday party last night, which echoed the Halloween party I had hosted during my father's final hours. The night before, I was at another bowling friend's casual party (followed by a bar visit). And, of course, there was the disciplinary action at work which I alluded to in a previous post. It was a week full of happy and sad.

It was a total mindf*ck.

I'm looking forward to Halloween being over, so I can get on with November. (Plus, I'll have candy!)

I'll bring dessert.

2011-10-29T20:05:00.000-04:00

I was thinking... if you're invited to dinner at someone's house, why not take a box of Twinkies as a "hostess gift"?

In Which I Remind You of My Pop Culture Ignorance

2011-10-29T09:58:00.003-04:00

Thanks to my anonymous friend, I have learned that "Debbie Downer" was (or still is, for all I know) a character from Saturday Night Live. Since I normally have been in bed for hours before the program airs, I can't offer you any more explanation. Instead, here's the sketch.

I wonder if The Noog counts as a "big ol' city".

2011-10-28T16:12:00.003-04:00

I generally loathe country music, but I like the refrain of this song. I need to remind myself of it every time Froggy or Miss Kitty get me down.

Incidentally, this was the first time I had seen the video, and I think it's pretty nice, too.

Does your point of view depend on context lenses?

2011-10-28T06:38:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, a conversation with two employees included the phrase "anal-retentive". (For those of you who have ever seen my T-shirt, yes, it does have a hyphen.) One employee asked the other what he meant, so the other one explained.

"I thought that was 'meticulous'," the first one said.

"It can be," I interjected. "It depends how you use it. For example, you could tell me, 'Gee, boss, you sure are meticulous'. But, when you go home and talk to your girlfriend, you say, 'Boy, is my boss anal-retentive.'"

This must be Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays.

2011-10-27T19:16:00.002-04:00

It has been a tough week. I can't discuss the personnel issue that happened two days ago, but before I could administer the company discipline notices to the employees today, they were at it again. I had to tell one of them that I've requested approval from our HR department to terminate him.

I just hope that my employees who were given the random, monthly drug test today all pass.

After this, I think I need to name my Gator.

2011-10-27T06:29:00.003-04:00

Every morning, when I get into my utility vehicle and let it warm up, I wipe dew off the windows. I frequently have to wipe off condensation from the inside, too, especially after I've been occupying the enclosed cab. The dew and condensation almost immediately return (dang humidity!), so I have to switch on the windshield wiper for a swipe every minute or so. I don't like having to rewipe the inside periodically, either.

Even just to exit our equipment yard and take the shortcut through the alley to our office, I drive unwisely, what with an obscured windshield and only one hand on the wheel as the other switches between wiping off the inside and reaching for the windshield wiper switch, which is overhead and to my right, somewhere. It's not until the sun comes up an hour or so later that the windshield remains clear (on both surfaces). I'm almost afraid to think of what it will be like when the weather gets colder, or on cloudy days.

I always make sure my headlights are on, until the windshield is clear. I figure that if I can't see other drivers, they might not be able to see me. Of course, this makes it the ideal vehicle to use when escaping from the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal.

It's second nature to me now.

2011-10-26T07:04:00.003-04:00

In an e-mail thread to Betty about cartoons, I said the following.

Thankfully, they don't tire with age. I still get mileage out of the story about how I hooked my parents on _Pinky & the Brain_. (No pun intended with "tire" and "mileage", I swear!)

I've blogged before that I pun even in my sleep. I'm glad this isn't a potentially lethal issue.

My Latest Sniglet

2011-10-25T21:37:00.000-04:00

Are you familiar with that smell after someone mows the lawn? I hereby dub it "grassoline".

Grumpy people make me smile.

2011-10-24T19:07:00.002-04:00

It's not easy being a Pollyanna, you know. Debbie Downers (I like that better than "Negative Nellies", so I stole it from a new friend) constantly wear at me. Circumstances swirl around me, and it's not always easy being the "rock solid, market wise" one (as Gimpius Maximus once dubbed me).

For example, I just got back from visiting one of my employees in the hospital, where he is recovering from cancer surgery. It was difficult keeping his spirits up before the surgery, when the prognosis was worse than reality. Now that the surgery is over, and it turned out better than expected... Do you know how hard it is to be funny enough to cheer someone up but not make him laugh so hard that he hurts?

Then my buddy Robomarkov has needed my support working his way toward a divorce. If that weren't enough, two other blows to his psyche and stamina followed. (I'm not at liberty to discuss them.) It's also difficult to provide positive support repeatedly without dipping into the fount of negativity, but I'm managing.

Mind you, my life isn't all bad. Actually, I'm glad for having Miss Kitty and Froggy as Debbie Downers at work. Froggy is a constant reminder that, when you expect something negative, that's what you get. Miss Kitty is like the yin to my yang (or is that the yang to my yin?). At the start of June, she stopped instigating conversations with me. In our daily managers meetings (where we sit across the table from each other), if there's anything she needs my crew to do, she will ask Skippy, not me. Then, at the start of this month, she completely stopped talking to me. Even if I say nothign but "good morning" when she walks in the door, she won't answer. (Thing One picked up on this right away. Skippy observed it once but, ignorant saint of a man that he is, probably assumed she didn't hear me rather than chose to snub me.) Her morning shift supervisor waved and smiled when we drove by each other. Miss Kitty, who was driving right behind her, ignored me. Actually, I've started to enjoy this. I now make a game out of it: being nice to her on purpose. I can't help but grin. Once, I laughed because it's so funny.

The old me would've called her a "bitch on wheels" or a "sour old cow". The positive me prefers to think that this is her way of approaching a painless retirement. Imagine the poor, old dear so downcast at leaving me behind at the end of the year, that she forces herself to ignore me, in the hopes that it will make her departure less painful. She even separated her preparations into two, three-month parts, kind of easing into it, you know? Oh, however will she live without me?

Dang it, I'm smiling again! :)

Nuns and priests must be dying from starvation.

2011-10-20T13:11:00.002-04:00

I thought this excerpt (from Artists in Crime by Ngaio Marsh, 1938) was amusing.

"No nonsense with women. You and Sonia seem to be sitting in each other's pockets. Have you been living together?"

"When you're hungry," said Garcia, "you eat."

"Well, this isn't a restaurant, and you'll please remember that. You understand?"

I, for one, am sick of the self-service buffet. ;)

I'm too old to become a famous quarterback, anyway.

2011-10-20T06:40:00.003-04:00

On my way home from work yesterday, I noticed that someone had tried hiding a football behind a tree. (It wasn't that big of a tree, obviously.) After I picked it up, I tried holding it like I remember my gym teacher telling me: fingers on the laces. I couldn't keep a grip on the thing, let alone be able to throw it properly. I know my hands aren't big, but I have kind of long fingers. I wonder how big the hands are of NFL quarterbacks. That's the sort of statistics they should be keeping.

I wonder how they framed it.

2011-10-15T19:56:00.001-04:00

Gotta love the work order requests we get at an academic institution.

"We have a plague that needs to be hung up in the SAC."

Getting (a) Shot

2011-10-14T06:46:00.004-04:00

The school offered its annual, free (to students and staff) flu shots yesterday. Free? Count me in!

They had Snoopy bandages to put over our boo-boos this year. Snoopy is cool enough, but then I spotted another box on the table. "May I have a Scooby-Doo bandage instead?" Scoob's the man! (Well, yes, I know he's a dog, but you know what I mean.) Last year, the choice was between Spongebob Squarepants and Spider-Man. (Spidey rules!)

Scooby-dooby Doo,
Fightin' the flu,
Scooby-dooby Doo,
Where are you?

Is that vaguely vulgar, as in, "Eat foo and die"?

2011-10-13T15:42:00.003-04:00

My insurance agent, of all people, sent me an e-mail about his company's contest. Here's the prize.

One lucky foodie will win airfare for 2, hotel accommodations for 2 nights in the heart of South Beach and $500 spending cash. Our escape also includes a Food Network Magazine exclusive prize - a trip for 2 to attend the Food Network Magazine lounge in South Beach, Miami in February 2012.

Free airfare and hotel sounds good, but do I want to sell my soul for a chance to see the "Food Network Magazine lounge"? Heck, I'm so socially unconscious that I barely am aware that Food Network is a cable channel. (Note: I'm not providing a link to its website because I might accidentally learn something about it, and I'm happy remaining ignorant to what the masses enjoy.) Even if I skipped that grand and glorious opportunity, is there anything interesting to see in Miami besides the beach?

Just go to the link below, hit the Miami Foodie Escape tab on my Facebook page and enter to win!

Aw, shucks. I can't enter because I'm not on Facebook.

You heard that right, I'm one of the few netizens smart enough to be a member of the resistance. (Doctor, if you're listening, I'll help you defeat whichever flavor-of-the-month alien trying to take over our planet, and I have some friends who can help.) In fact, if I were at all capable of using my computer for more than games, e-mail, and a few documents, I'd tell Microsoft to take a flying leap.

When's the last time you ever thought of looking under your own rear end?

2011-10-12T06:47:00.002-04:00

Last night, I finally figured out what made the cracking noise in my bed at the start of August.

I had overcome one portion of my laziness and decided to put empty boxes (the packaging that hold things you use everyday* but don't want to get rid of since you know you're going to need them again when you move at an unspecified point in the future) under my bed. Sure, my bed has spiff drawers under it, but they don't go all the way to the middle, so there's space (a vast amount, as I found out) between them, where I can hide things I don't need to get to.

As I was bellycrawling, I saw a dark streak in the center support rail for my platform bed. I wondered if it was a naturally occurring mark in the wood or if it was open to the other side. When I got close enough to reach it, I felt that it was a rather large crack. Aha! I wasn't imagining my bed breaking, but I couldn't see what cracked until I got under the bed. Now I have to dig out the purchase paperwork and see if it's still under warranty -- or maybe I can go to a lumber yard and buy a 2x4 to put in its place.

* Interestingly, my toaster oven is smaller in all dimensions than my microwave, but its box is larger than the microwave's.

Flattery will get you nowhere.

2011-10-11T18:00:00.001-04:00

As I was walking to the campus gym yesterday morning, one of the security guards stopped me and asked who I was and where I was going. This wasn't a new employee. In fact, he has seen me several times at that hour of the morning (night) before.

"I'm sorry," he explained, "from the back, you looked like a student."

Geez, I know it was dark, but how did my big ass possibly get overlooked?

A Textbook Example

2011-10-11T06:47:00.002-04:00

Skippy has been hinting for months for me to accompany one of my work crews all day, to keep them on course. He doesn't realize that's impossible. He finally out-and-out told me to follow the crew yesterday. Naturally, it didn't work.

I retrieved my Gator and parked it in a place convenient to the starting worksite and the daily managers' meeting. I picked up a piece of trash and began walking toward the worksite (and a trashcan). An employee from the other crew stopped me and said he needed a key -- from the keybox back at the shop. I turned around and started walking back to my Gator -- and was stopped by my small equipment mechanic (that is, a mechanic for small equipment, not a small mechanic for equipment, although he is slight of build), telling me the tractor still has a battery problem and what he was going to do to diagnose it.

I drove back to the shop and gave the employee the key he needed. I drove my Gator back, parked it, and was stopped by the mechanic who had confirmed his diagnosis and was going to buy a new battery. I continued to the starting point and the trash can, and I decided to use the bathroom while I was there. Naturally, that's exactly when I was called over the radio and my cell phone rang at exactly the same time (and exactly when my hands were otherwise occupied). The radio message was telling me that the missing employee had arrived and needed to be let into the shop to clock in. The two missed phone calls (with no voice mails) were the employee trying to let me know he had arrived. I headed back to my Gator to go back to the shop. (At least I finally had the chance to throw out that piece of trash.)

I let the employee in. He grabbed his ring of work keys and his uniform shirt, and he went to get his equipment. He put it in the back of my Gator, so I could take him to the worksite (assuming I'd ever get there myself), and then he realized that he hadn't clocked in. So, I let him back into the shop and finally got underway.

As soon as I dropped off that employee, another one approached me and asked if I could drive him back to the shop, so he could clock out and leave for his doctor's appointment.

Sigh.

I did so, and by then it was time for the daily managers' meeting. By the time we got done with that (it was more like Froggy holding forth at an audience for an hour), it was time for the crew's morning break, so I couldn't observe them. I went back to the shop, checked for any new e-mails, and played a few rounds of Freecell.

At that point, I realized that I hadn't yet turned on the sprinklers to keep our new seed and sod moist, so I went around campus and did that. By then, I had half an hour before we managers would leave campus for lunch to celebrate Froggy's and Officer Krupke's birthdays (last month, but we're finally getting around to it, for reasons that would fit in well with this post but also would make it longer than it already is), and I really wanted to check on the status of the tractor, so I went to the mechanic's shop. He filled me in, I went to turn off the sod sprinkler, and then it was just enough time to use the restroom again before lunch. (At least I had time to go to the bathroom yesterday. Some days, I don't get that much.)

Lunch took two and a half hours, all told (waiting for everyone, driving nigh on forever, eating, listening to Skippy hold forth, and driving nigh on forever back to campus). I brushed my teeth, checked e-mails -- and then it was almost time for the crew's afternoon break, so no sense heading out onto campus just yet.

Finally, I did go to check on the crew. I drove through all the areas where they are scheduled to mow every Monday, saw that they had skipped a couple, and found them in Tuesday's area, where I instructed them to go back and do what they had skipped. (The crew supervisor was so upset by this that he has called in sick this morning.)

Sure, Skippy has a point about keeping tabs on my crew, but I think you understand why I can't.

Long Day's Journey into Noog

2011-10-10T06:53:00.002-04:00

Last Friday was the day we observed Labor Day (since we worked on the actual holiday). I woke up and worked out as usual, but then I had breakfast at Aretha Frankenstein's. (Maybe that's how the pun got into my head.) I discourage you from ordering the Mexican omelette.

I walked over to campus and turned on all the irrigation, to make sure that our new seed and sod stay moist. (Oops - I forgot to do so yesterday.) Then I started painting the bottom half of the front of my apartment building. For some reason, those shingles were painted dark green, but the rest of the front (and the entire sides and back) were gray. I think the building looks much better now that it's a uniform color. It lightens up the front porch, too. (Thing One asked if I had cleaned up the front porch; she didn't say anything about the new paint.)

Saturday was my lazy day. Wait, I take that back. I went to the back to deposit a check and withdraw some cash for Sunday, and I also irrigated the fields and sod again.

On Sunday, I drove Thing One and V (a coworker from the business office) to the Georgia Apple Festival. I bought some tiny (I do mean "tiny". Two of them are no bigger than my little toenail.) owl figurines which complement the ones I bought from the same vendor two years ago, and some matted owl photos (three for $20 was a great deal). Thing One and V didn't buy anything. That is, they didn't buy anything at the Apple Festival.

On the way to lunch at Bud's Pink Pig restaurant, we stumbled across the Cherry Log Festival. It was much smaller than the apple festival, and both Thing One and V bought a sack of sweet potatoes. Then, we stopped by two orchards we had passed on the way to the apple festival, and I bought a bag (1/2 peck) of Stayman Winesap apples and a bag of Arkansas Black apples. V and Thing One bought some Rome apples. (One orchard was more crowded, probably because they had paid for signs along the road, but its prices weren't any higher than the other, and they didn't have any different cultivars. I won't link to its website because they have enough publicity.)

I was close to nodding off on the drive back to the Noog, but we arrived home safe and sound. We had been gone about eight hours (nearly half of that was driving), but the weather was good, and we didn't spend too much money, and we brought home some healthy foods. I think it was a good weekend.

Dr. Frankenstein in the Modern Age

2011-10-10T06:52:00.004-04:00

How many times do I have to tell you, Igor? I'm a cosmetic surgeon specializing in breast reconstruction. Please stop referring to this office as a "build-a-pair workshop".

An Ovine Love Song

2011-10-07T23:19:00.001-04:00

"My Sweet, Embraceable Ewe"

No, you're not misreading that time stamp, and the pun is proof that my mind does strange things if I'm kept up past my usual bedtime.

I have seen the future, and I am scared.

2011-10-07T06:32:00.003-04:00

In the past, I have mentioned how helpless, hopeless, or self-centered (or all three) some of the faculty members are at this school. For example, we will receive work order requests to spray for ants in their houses. Can they not buy a can of ant spray themselves? Do they think it's beneath them? Can they not clean up their kitchens so the ants won't be attracted by food? (Or is that presuming too much of them?)

I've also noted how these same faculty members bring their spouses and children to eat with them in the dining hall. (That's odd. If they're not eating in their kitchens, why are there ants there?) I picture one of these children growing up and getting married and telling his/her spouse, "Sorry, dear. I don't know how to cook, so you'll have to do it for me."

However, I have refrained from commenting on their children -- until today. Yesterday, my observation confirmed a behavior that I have seen them exhibit before, and it frightens me that these children might end up ruling society some day.

When these children play, they often play in the street. This is not a big deal; children around the world do so. However, these children do not get out of the street when approached by a car. Indeed, they don't even move out of the way. They will stand there and look at the car stupidly, but they won't move. (They're similar to "dumb animals" that way.)

I daren't honk the horn or yell at the children to warn them, for their parents then would think I am frightening or even accosting their little darlings. I'd be in even bigger trouble if I ran them over. (But it sure would save this planet a lot of future troubles.)

Sea Shanty

2011-10-07T06:09:00.002-04:00

Did you know that a sailors' song, beloved and thought of as charming by many, actually has its roots in shore leave, when the sailors sought out harlots in the port?

I'm referring, of course, to "Yo, ho, blow the man down."

I don't remember having a Triple Hunh Day before.

2011-10-03T07:17:00.002-04:00

Three posts in a row is pretty rare, too.

Hunh - On my walk from my workout to my office, I saw that the electronic gate, which is usually open at that time, was closed.

Double Hunh - On my way around the closed gate, I saw that the nearby gate, which must be unlocked/locked and opened/closed manually, was open, as usual.

Triple Hunh - The light that campus security asked me to leave on all the time in my office, so their cameras can see if anyone breaks in, was off.

Maybe the electronic gate is broken, or maybe one of the security guys isn't doing his job. However, if no one working security on the weekend observed that the camera was dark and bothered going into the office to turn on the light as it's supposed to be, that's more than one security guy not doing his job.

Pee-Wee's Big Adventure

2011-10-03T07:03:00.002-04:00

It's not that we're codependent or anything, but yesterday was the first time I ventured out for a day of errands without Thing One. (She and her mom went downtown to the weekly farmers' market with a coworker.)

I went to Southeastern Salvage to buy a pot large enough for the discounted palm tree I got at the grocery store. (I browsed but didn't see anything else I liked.) Then I went to McKay's; I had decided to use my accumulated bowling prize money for books and CD's. I didn't find many of the books I wanted (after the third search, I really think that everyone else must like the books I like, so they hold onto them instead of getting rid of them), but I did find several CD's. (They were better alphabetized, but that's probably because there were a lot fewer of them to sort.) I was interested to note that used CD's cost about twice as much as used books, unless they're scratched (the CD's, not the books). I was more than a bit hungry by then, and it was after the post-church rush, so I had a late lunch (veal parmesan) at Gondolier Pizza. On the way home, I stopped by Aldi for groceries.

You're probably dying to know if I had set a limit on what I would buy at McKay's. Indeed I did, and I stayed within that budget. Well, pre-tax I did. That counts, right?

Remember to bend at the knees, not at the waist.

2011-10-03T06:58:00.003-04:00

On Friday and today, I observed that the shower in the coaches' locker room has been dismantled (presumably to repair what was really wrong with it, rather than say that opening a valve fixed the problem). There wasn't any warning sign posted. Presumably, they think we're intelligent enough to see the shower can't be used. It's just as well that I take my supplies to the shower first, so I saw the situation while I still had my clothes on. Otherwise, I would've had to stuff everything back into my gym bag and mosey to the locker room down the hall, carrying the bag, my keys, and making sure my towel doesn't fall off.

Maybe the other locker room was designed to be used by 6th graders. The sinks and mirrors are lower than in the coaches' locker room. Indeed, I can barely see my chin at the top of the mirror, which makes accurate shaving a bit difficult.

A Sure-Fire Way to Get Slapped

2011-09-30T06:42:00.001-04:00

"No, you looked fat even before you put on that dress."

Maybe I'm just sensitive.

2011-09-27T06:44:00.004-04:00

When I woke up this morning, my apartment seemed lighter than usual. It wasn't that I overslept and the sun was up*, but, for some reason, the nightlight I keep in my kitchen (so I don't kill myself if I get up in the night to find the bathroom) seemed brighter. Then, in my living room, I could see my porch light through my blackout curtains, which I'd never seen before. Have I collected so much owl stuff for so many years that I'm starting to acquire better night vision?

A little later, on my walk to the gym, I passed under the high tension power lines, as usual, but this time I could hear the electricity sizzling along them. I'd heard this phenomenon years ago, at a college campus in Arizona, but never at these power lines.

Better vision, better hearing -- will I be able to turn my head 180 degrees next?

On the other hand, if my vision and hearing are improving, does that mean one of my other senses is diminishing? Losing my sense of taste might mean I would eat less. It also might mean I eat more, trying to satisfy myself because I can't taste food as well.

Since I'm on the topic of sensitivity, let's have a listen at this.

You know, even if I account for years or decades since she first recorded the song, Christine Lavin looks nothing like I expected.

* For me, "sleeping in" means I don't get up until 6:00 a.m., and that's still well before sunrise in The Noog. If I'm ever in bed when the sun comes up, something is seriously wrong.

I know why the caged bird sings.

2011-09-24T18:46:00.002-04:00

This is a follow-up to this post.

Yesterday, I heard over the radio that the plumber had fixed the problem with the hot water in the coaches' locker room. What did he have to do? He opened a valve.

Are you kidding me? Six or seven months after I first reported the issue, they finally look at the pipes and figure out that a valve was closed? Sheesh.

Weird Science

2011-09-21T12:54:00.002-04:00

Just because it comes from a cartoon doesn't mean it's not real. In the cartoon "Of Mouse and Man", The Brain staged a workplace accident involving a microwave oven and non-dairy creamer. Lo and behold, the following message is printed on the case of creamer which I picked up for my crew today. (I am not making this up.)

Caution: Like all powdered products, this product should not be stored or used near an open flame or high heat source.

People usually say I'm backwards.

2011-09-21T06:51:00.002-04:00

When making my bed yesterday morning, I noticed that I had put the top sheet on sideways. Oh well, as long as it covers me and my future bedmate.

That's not blood on my napkin; it's beet juice and chili.

2011-09-20T06:45:00.000-04:00

Don't you hate it when you bite the inside of your mouth when eating? As if the pain weren't enough, the area then swells up, which makes it more likely that you will bite yourself. Again. In the same spot.

I bit the inside of my lip on Saturday. At lunch yesterday, I hit the same spot five times, but only once at dinner. The spot seems a little less swollen this morning, and I haven't bitten it yet as I eat my breakfast, so maybe it's finally healing.

(I ate them separately, of course. The beets were in my salad; the chili was on my hot dogs.)

This sounds like a not-bad rule to live by.

2011-09-15T19:11:00.002-04:00

When reading, I often find a quote I think is funny, think applies to me, or just plain like. It's rare when I find a whole paragraph, but here it is (from The Sword in the Stone, by T. H. White).

"The best thing for being sad," replied Merlyn, beginning to puff and blow, "is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then -- to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the thing for you. Look at what a lot of things there are to learn -- pure science, the only purity there is. You can learn astronomy in a lifetime, natural history in three, literature in six. And then, after you have exhausted a milliard lifetimes in biology and medicine and theocriticism and geography and history and economics -- why, you can start to make a cartwheel out of the appropriate wood, or spend fifty years learning to begin to learn to beat your adversary at fencing. After that you can start again on mathematics, until it is time to learn to plough."

You all want me to have a good night's sleep, so I don't share my weird dreams with you.

2011-09-15T06:27:00.007-04:00

I dreamt that my mom and I were at an Episcopal church, looking for my buddy Robomarkov. It was a large church, and the part of the congregation we were in was off to the side, so the service was nearly over before any of us could hear that it was already going on. The minister called out for hymn #2, but someone changed the signboard and posted an omega symbol in front of the two. I opened the hymnal and looked in the front, but it wasn't that page two. It wasn't the next one, either. The third one (and what sort of book starts numbering its pages three times [in Arabic numerals each time]?) was the right one, but it showed just the words, not the music. I told my mom she'd remember the tune ("Be Thou My Vision", if you care) once it started, but I couldn't read the hymnal where she was holding it, so I tried to carry the tune for her and hoped I remembered the words correctly.

Then I was outside, with my paternal grandmother, walking under some trees, toward the church doors. This time, we were looking for my mom. When we got to the church, a guy told us that everyone had left, except some people working on the candles, and my mom wasn't with them. We walked on, and I told my grandmother that we were on the campus of the school where I work, and I explained that it was just like the small, college campus in the town where she lived, except the college also had female students, and they were in their twenties, not their teens.

My grandmother had a large (and I mean almost as big as she was, but she was still able to carry it in one hand), styrofoam cup of green soda. She set it down to take a drink from the straw, and some boys playing frisbee nearby pinched a bit of the cup so that the green soda flowed from the side. (I, naturally, was indignant. The boys, naturally, didn't care.) A large fly (proportionately large, like the cup) was attracted to the sweet soda but got caught under the flow. With one tremendous burst of energy, it managed to fly out of the stream.

Then, Skippy showed up and told me that I should look for a song by the band "Hot Dog Brownie, Old Fudgies, and Go". Then my alarm clock woke me up.

My first thought was I think even pregnant women with cravings wouldn't want to eat that. My second thought was I don't think I'd be interested in music by that group; it sounds like a punk band. My third thought was that I didn't go to bed late, but I had woken up several times in the night (two of those times, I heard it raining), so maybe it's not the duration of sleep but the quality that counts.

Pass it on: Tommy's keys are in his car!

2011-09-13T15:42:00.002-04:00

One student shouted to another, "Hey, Malcolm (or Chandler, or whatever rich boys are called these days)! Tommy left his keys in his car!"

Okay, so if you know who Tommy is and what car he drives, you just got yourself a free set of wheels!

Consider this my announcement to the world.

2011-09-12T06:54:00.003-04:00

The weather is not my fault. It has not been my fault for over a year. Stop telling me that I made it rain last night.

Actually, I wasn't sure it rained, or if the humidity was just denser than usual. (Yeah, we usually have dew on the grass, but this time the asphalt and concrete were damp, too.) According to the swimming coach, whom I frequently see in the locker room in the morning, it rained just as he and his wife were going to bed.

I, of course, am blaming others. I think it rained last night because Thing One's daughter and granddaughters are flying back to NM today. My reasoning goes like this.

1) The day I moved from NM to The Noog, the "drought" they were experiencing ended with a 2" downpour.

2) When Thing One moved from NM to The Noog last winter, the city experienced more snow events (including one at 6-8") than had happened in years.

3) As of last Sunday, Thing One's mother has moved to The Noog from NM, and we got 9.58" of rain on Monday (and another 0.58" Tuesday).

Actually, I see it's getting worse. I think we need an embargo on any more New Mexicans moving to The Noog, before those of us already here get washed away.

Hmm, this could be a new variable to test. If my New Mexican friends Betty or Gimpius Maximus come for just a visit, will the precipitation vary accordingly?

I haven't been properly dry since August.

2011-09-07T06:54:00.002-04:00

Boy, I never expected to fit a Harry Potter quote into the titles of my blog posts.

It misted or drizzled all day yesterday, but there's no precipitation this morning. In fact, the streets and sidewalks look as if they're starting to dry off. (I wish I could say the same of my shoes.) Weather records based at the airport say we got 9.85" of rain on Monday and 0.58" Tuesday. I still think we're better off than other parts of the country.

Dry and Alive - for the Moment

2011-09-06T06:41:00.003-04:00

I really need to pay attention to current events, instead of merely scanning the online weather forecast. The forecast called for rain. Current events said the remnants of a tropical depression would pass over. Not that knowing in advance would've kept me any drier, mind you.

One of my crews accomplished very little yesterday, short of continually driving around campus, in case one of the storm drains got clogged by fallen leaves. While they were dry and sitting down, the other crew and I were in ankle-deep water on the athletic fields, emptying the trash cans and turning them over, so they wouldn't get even more water in them. (Not only are they very heavy, the anaerobic decomposition of whatever organic materials are in them makes them smell nasty.) Mind you, I'm not sure they stayed turned over, since they were on the verge of floating in the first place, and it became windy overnight.

The power went out (twice) in my new office and the neighborhood where I live, but the rest of campus (which receives its electricity from a different direction) was unaffected. My office phone still doesn't work, since the campus computer department has to "reboot" it (the price of technology).

At the end of the day, I went home and tossed everything I was wearing, except my raincoat (which I didn't want to melt) and work shoes (which I didn't want to make an infernal clunking and possibly damage the machine) in the dryer. Gosh, toasty-warm underwear sure feels nice! I think it took an hour for my feet to dry, though.

More rain today and tomorrow, which is no surprise, since there has been some form of precipitation for the last 24 hours. Mind you, I'm not whining; I do realize that many other people are worse off because of actual hurricanes, and not the remnants of one.

There's no place like home for the holidays.

2011-09-01T06:42:00.001-04:00

Alas, I'm not there. (September 1 is a holiday, right?) Today marks my sixth anniversary as a homeowner. Since I've lived elsewhere for the last two years, though, I haven't inhabited my condo for 1/3 of the time I've owned it. I figure that, if I live in The Noog two more years, I'll have not inhabited my home for half of the time I've owned it.

Happy Emma M. Nutt Day!

I presume she treats her husband better than us menial lawn jockeys.

2011-08-31T06:59:00.003-04:00

I got a voice mail from the headmaster's wife last night, with her periodic list of little, annoying wishes that we were going to do anyway. (Actually, it was half of a voice mail, so I'm going to have to call her back and find out what I might have missed because, even though she tends to ramble on for five minutes, saying what could take me less than one, she might have said something after being cut off which I might actually need to hear.)

To start off her message, she said she wasn't sure when we'd be in her yard this week.

Wednesday. She knows this. We mow her yard every effing Wednesday. We have mowed her yard every goshdarn effing Wednesday for the two years and two months which I have been here, and the crew always did it on Wednesday's before that!

Is she forgetful? Is she stupid? Is she just effing around with me to watch me turn red and emit steam from my ears?

(Sorry for the swearing, but, as you know, blatant, repetitive stupidity is sure to cheese me off.)

Dude, where's my yard?

2011-08-31T06:47:00.002-04:00

I've been helping Thing One with the final stages of fixing up her house before the Royal Visit. (After much rescheduling, her mom is finally moving to The Noog to join her. Thing One's daughter and two granddaughters will be accompanying her for a week-long visit.) We rebuilt the porch railings and have spent much time tidying the yard (picking up fallen branches, broken bricks, broken glassware, alcohol bottles, carpet remnants, etc. and cutting weeds off the chain link fences). The yard is now so bare, it looks much bigger. At least, Thing One seems to think so. What I see when I look at it is the absence of grass. We need to find some grass seed for shaded areas then hope for the return of rain. (It hasn't rained for a month, which seems more like the climate I left behind in New Mexico, and certainly doesn't match the abundance of precipitation from my first year in The Noog.)

I was pondering: since Thing One's family is flying in, can I refer to the plane as "Air Force One"?

Imponderable Question of the Universe #99

2011-08-25T06:59:00.002-04:00

If Adolf Hitler could have a girlfriend, why am I still single?

This isn't a cream puff. It's a cannoli with chocolate chips.

2011-08-25T06:39:00.003-04:00

I had an unexpected (though pleasant) visit yesterday from the "Area Support Manager" for my company. In other words, he's the guy who travels around and visits all the grounds managers in the warm-season turf part of the country. I'll admit to a bit of pride that he made many of the same observations I have (so I'm not crazy, deluded, or just plain wrong). The reason his visit was so pleasant, though, was because he gave me some good tips (whereas Skippy's boss spouts negativity when he visits and then asks, "What can I do to help you?").

My favorite part of the visit was at lunch, when the manager said, "Oh, I knew within five minutes of meeting [Froggy], when he acted put out about opening the door to let me in and calling you on the phone to tell you I was here, that he's an a--h---."

The Canary in the Coal Mine

2011-08-24T06:34:00.002-04:00

Several months ago (about half a year, probably), I submitted a work order request that sometimes there was hot water in the showers in the coaches' locker room, and sometimes there wasn't. Froggy made noises like he'd have his plumber fix it, and the problem went away (at least as far as I experienced). The other day, the swimming coach said the problem is again (or still) occurring. Yesterday, one of the middle school teachers asked me, "Is there any hot water?" and I replied, "There is right now." But, of course, Froggy doesn't listen to me.

Yesterday (and please note that I didn't really want to post this whine, but it's my time of the month, so I'm going to), I found out that Froggy brought in a company to cut out part of a concrete wall in our old shop, as a remodel for Miss Kitty's crew to move in. While I was picking up a can of wasp spray from our chemical room, I saw Skippy fingering the light switch to our former tool room, and I said, "Oh, that never worked right." I didn't add, "even though I put in two work order requests to fix it," because I thought I'd sound snarky. That tells me how highly I rate here, though, that Miss Kitty can have a wall taken out, but I can't even get a light switch fixed.

The filling in this cream puff, though, is what Elmer Fudd found out from one of Miss Kitty's crew supervisors. The reason the wall was taken out was so her crew wouldn't have to walk outside between their break room and the offices/bathrooms. Apparently, my crew isn't that special.

Nothin' says lovin' like somethin' from the oven.

2011-08-23T06:39:00.000-04:00

I had occasion to see an obese couple. "Boy, are they big!" I thought. Then I told myself to be more positive. "There goes 800 pounds of love."

I can't write poetry this good when I'm awake.

2011-08-22T06:49:00.003-04:00

"Back in the saddle again."

Oops, wrong song.

School is back in session, and we're back to the work schedule that allows me to work out before heading to the office. It felt nice to be back in my comfort zone, especially after "hell week" (last minute preparations before the students' return).

This morning, I woke up with this (original) song in my head.
Up and down Manhattan,
Inside and outside the town,
I have a key to a Joshua Tree, and
It plays the best music around.
It was kind of barbershop quartet in tempo but Mills Brothers in harmonies. (If you think I was born in the wrong era, you're not the first to think that.)

The best news is that I can go and spend money again! For just over a week, I couldn't find my credit card nor my ATM card. They weren't in the drawer where I normally keep them. They weren't under the drawer. They weren't in or under the other drawer, either. They weren't behind or under the cabinet. They weren't in my car. They weren't in or under the sofa. They weren't at the last store I had a receipt for.

I called both companies, but the cards hadn't been used since my last receipt. That pointed toward them being lost and not stolen. Maybe the last store threw them out, without realizing it. Maybe I threw them out without realizing it.

Where did I finally find them? In my gym bag, of course. Doesn't everybody keep them there? Grocery store, here I come!

I still can't find my smallest, reusable, grocery bag, though.

My job is making me fat(ter).

2011-08-15T05:26:00.000-04:00

For the past couple of weeks, I haven't worked out. The start of the school year is approaching, so I've been working longer to help with that (and certain administrators think their pet projects are even more important and must be done absolutely-right-now). On top of that, we officially moved office and shop last Wednesday, so I've stayed late to resort things so we can move around and find many of the necessities. I spent most of Saturday and at least half of Sunday in my own office, sorting and cleaning and arranging and decorating, so it looks like a pretty nice place after all. And Skippy's boss will be visiting today, and he's always negative, so I know he'll think I'm not having my crew do enough to prepare for the students' return. Sounds like a workout is exactly what I shouldn't be missing right now.

You scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours.

2011-08-09T05:28:00.002-04:00

Some of my poison ivy rash started diminishing on Friday, about a week after it appeared. (It's not gone, though.) Other bumps started emerging on Sunday, but they aren't as itchy. The ones on my palms periodically give me fits, and I'm starting to think the rash on my waist (thanks to the constant irritation and humidity) never will go away.

I have an interesting other itching experience to tell you about. On Saturday, when Thing One and I were plant shopping from the clearance remnants at a major retail chain (she bought more than I did, so hush), I felt as if several insects were suddenly biting or stinging my right thigh. I didn't see anything (well, as much as I could see without adjusting my shorts to an indecent level for public view), and the feeling went away after a few minutes. Yesterday evening, I was repotting some of the plants I had bought, and I felt the stinging again. It was in the same area on the same leg, but I was wearing different underpants and shorts than on Saturday, and I wasn't wearing a shirt, shoes, or socks, so I know the clothing didn't contribute to the episode. I wonder if it was one of the plants. I wonder if it was one particular plant (which I can't name right now, since I don't remember what the tag said). I wonder if I would feel any differently if I wore pants when working with that plant. I wonder if the plant doesn't realize that I'm Cap'n Chlorophyll and I mean it no harm.

You wouldn't have opened the door if you knew I had brought these puns with me.

2011-08-05T17:45:00.002-04:00

Thing One is looking for house numbers to put above her front steps. I suggested some nice tile ones with hummingbirds, to bring a bit of New Mexico flavor but still be suitable for the architecture. If she can find a matching doorbell, her front entrance sure will be a humdinger.

Thinking of the ex-mouse I created this morning, I wondered if there are any rodent-shaped door knockers. I'll know I have guests when I hear their rat-a-tat.

Anyone for mouse kibble?

2011-08-05T07:59:00.002-04:00

We were clearing some junk out of our new (to us) shop storage building this morning, when I said, "I'm glad there wasn't a rat under there," at which point a mouse started scurrying around my feet. (No, I didn't scream. Surprisingly, I made very little noise at all.) "Oh, wait. There's a mouse," I said, as I tried to dodge it and it tried to dodge my feet.

"And now you've killed it," my employee informed me.

One, Two, Buckle my Shoe

2011-08-05T05:29:00.001-04:00

Starting last July, I implemented the policy that I would buy my employees one pair of safety shoes per year, in the months of the anniversaries of their hire dates. To make it look less that it benefits me more than them, I skipped myself in July. That means my first pair of company-paid shoes should be arriving shortly. I intended to replace the shoes I bought back when I was still in New Mexico. I noticed the other day, though, that the pair I bought myself here two years ago is coming apart (the sole of my right shoe is separating from the upper part). Aargh! Now do I replace just the falling-apart pair, or do I spend my own money on getting rid of the ill-fitting and older (but not falling apart) pair, too?

By George, I think I've got it!

2011-08-04T05:32:00.003-04:00

Well, no, not the poison ivy rash. You already know about that. And, no, I don't even mean the new bumps that have appeared on my palms, since I last blogged about it. I'm speaking of a way I can survive without washing my hands yet still be able to eat and read. You can feed me and read to me. What do you think? Um, no, I'm still going to rub the anti-itch gel on myself -- unless you're very nice to me. ;)

Bookyear

2011-08-03T05:33:00.002-04:00

It was another interrupted night, but at least I wasn't woken up by sirens or my bed cracking.

I asked Thing One to stop by to help me move my king size mattress, so I could inspect my bed. Nothing appeared cracked or broken. Nothing was loose. Nothing wiggled inappropriately. I have no idea why my bed made that noise the night before. We replaced the mattress, made the bed, and I slept without any further suspicion of damage.

I dreamt that I was here at work, trying to remember the name of a teacher. It kept eluding me, and I wished I had a yearbook handy, so I could look her up. How useful, I thought, to have all the staff members photographs in one place. Don't know what the point is of having all those children's photos in the front of the book, though.

When You Care Enough to Send the Very Least

2011-08-02T07:14:00.003-04:00

When I arrived home from work yesterday afternoon, I saw a tiny (2" diameter) flowerpot containing a dead plant on the front porch, next to my (live) ones. The tag calls it a Balfouriana Aralia (correct botanical name, if you care, in the link).

Perhaps someone saw my gardening prowess and thought they'd contribute a gift, but then I didn't water it and it died. Perhaps, but since it wasn't there the day before, I know it wasn't lack of water on my part which killed it.

Perhaps someone knows of my horticultural prowess and thought I could save it. Perhaps, but I'm not Dr. Fronkensteen, and I can't revive dead tissue. (The other question is who hates me enough to give me a dead plant as a gift?)

Speaking of Frankenstein ("Nice blend, Fozzie. Thank you, Fozzie."), Thing One and I ate breakfast at Aretha Frankenstein's on Sunday morning. (We got there just before the crowd, and they actually had a second cook arrive, so the interminable wait for one's food suddenly became much more terminable.) I like the Polish eggs, and the omelettes are good, but I decided to try something different. I ordered the Elephants Gerald ("Our Belgian waffle topped with Vanilla Ice Cream, Pecans in Syrup, and dusted with Cinnamon"). I had wondered why they chose such a strange and inappropriate name for a Belgian waffle with pecans, until I spoke my order to the waiter.

Still don't get it? Try saying it out loud.

Still don't get it? God, you're younger than I thought! (sigh)

Another Sleepless Night

2011-08-02T05:38:00.002-04:00

For the fourth night in a row, I slept poorly.

At one point, I woke up from a dream that was turning into a nightmare. I had said something about Thing One to E.G., a girl I grew up with and haven't seen nor heard from since high school graduation. (Where does my subconscious drag these ideas from?) Thing One was angry with me and said, "You should've told her Azalea Sauce," then produced a bottle of something that looked like one of the orangey hot sauces but with a texture like ketchup and poured it onto a potted azalea.

Another time I woke up, the two poison ivy bumps on my hip were itching like mad, and I so wanted to scratch, but I wouldn't, and after who knows how long, I compromised and rubbed the area, and that calmed me enough to fall asleep again.

Then I dreamt I was visiting my friend Robomarkov and his wife Scribe Ari (and their children, and their cats, and....) They were playing me a computer story they had made, with fantastic drawings and music (she is a talented artist, and he is a computer wiz -- or is that "whiz"? -- well, whichever one doesn't mean "urinate"). It was a story about how I had phoned them, but the younger child didn't pass along the message to mama. One of the cats (in a big, floopy hat like you'd expect from medieval stories like "Puss in Boots"), though, knew the message was important, and this story was how he (or she) got the message to Robomarkov and Scribe Ari. I realized that the male narrator's voice was not Robomarkov's, so I asked him who was reading. "It's a magnet," he said, from which I inferred that the story was originally on a refrigerator magnet and then had been marketed as a whole line of products, including this computerized story.

Then I was awakened by a loud crack, and my bed shifted. I had the usual thoughts one has when one's bed appears to have broken in the middle of the night. "I wasn't even moving. I'm alone in bed, so you know I wasn't doing that. Demmit, it's a brand new bed! But is it any better to break an old bed? What if it's an antique or has sentimental value? Either way, you have to spend money on a new bed, unless, of course, it's still under warranty..."

I managed to fall asleep again (though I had debated staying up and reading, since it was just an hour before my alarm was set to go off, but it shows how tired I was that I fell asleep). When I got up and switched on the light, I lifted my mattress to look. The legs appeared okay. The brace in the middle appeared okay. The slats didn't look cracked. The bed wasn't tilted. What happened? I'm going to ask Thing One if she'd mind dropping by this evening to help me move the mattress and see if we can find anything broken.

I'm okay. I only appear diseased.

2011-08-02T05:27:00.002-04:00

I knew exactly when I did it last Wednesday. It happened at the headmaster's house. You know how it is. You're pulling weeds, and you get in the groove: pull, pull, pull, and then... oops!

I didn't get back to the shop in enough time to wash the poison ivy from my hand. On Friday morning, I saw the first few bumps rising (and itching). On Saturday, there were more. (I tell myself not to scratch the poison ivy bumps, but their itches are so like regular itches, I usually forget.) On Sunday, there were more. In fact, there are a couple more this morning that weren't there yesterday.

I now have poison ivy rash on the inside of my left wrist, the inside of my left thumb, my left hip, my right shoulder, the (entire) inside of my right forearm, the back of my right hand, one on my left jaw, and one on the left side of my neck. (Yes, those two make it fun to shave in the morning.) The good news is that the one just on my right eye socket seems to have migrated down to below my eye. Yay.

It's really odd, trying to wash my hands and feeling bumps that normally aren't there. Then, am I allowed to dry my hands, or will the towel break open the bumps and spread the rash? Is my cotton towel at home any better than the paper towels at work, or vice versa? Maybe I should stop washing my hands at all. That would have the added benefit that I'd lose weight by not eating. After all, I wash my hands before fixing or eating food, and if I don't wash my hands after going to the bathroom, ick! I couldn't get any work done, since I don't want to contaminate my keyboard, my utility cart's steering wheel, or anything else with my germs, so I might as well just stay home, right? Oh, wait. Would I be allowed to touch my books with those hands? Maybe I'll still wash my hands and let them air dry.