Category Archives: Awesomesauce

Because I Can…

…and should – I bring you flowers from Poland:

 

The Strange Wonderfulness of it All

I’m really working hard on a post detailing the insanity of our move to the sticks.  It was like a bad “B” movie, but with worse lighting.

Anyway, as I work on that, some random observations from things that’ve been going on.

  1. Our new ranch has a house and guest house (insert sarcastic “yay” for doubling the square footage I have to clean) and in both houses we got satellite television. Except in the guest house we didn’t get…something..some piece of equipment – a router? – that let’s us access the Internet on the television. This is important. Because Netflix and Hulu.  So, I called my provider to get that fixed.  And I spent a SOLID HOUR on the phone with a tech as she told me, I shit you not, her ENTIRE LIFE STORY.  She is in her 20’s and has had a rough go. Dad’s done time, Mom died when she was young, she’s raised her sister. It’s a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie waiting to happen, kids.  She kept saying to me “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I haven’t even told my sister or Granny yet.” as she relayed recent events or innermost feelings.  Since we only get landline coverage in the hinterlands I was trapped at the kitchen table, listening, as my husband kept going in and out looking perplexedly at me as each time he passed he saw the glassy-eyed look on my face.  Finally, we got to the end of her story and she said a tech would be out to fix the problem.  I hung up the phone with a headache, and I think a small country might have gone to war and won in the time it took for that conversation to end.
  2. Yesterday, I went to the post office to drop off my out-of-town packages for mailing. I’d already printed the postage and put it on the box, so I normally just set the packages on the counter and leave. But, yesterday I needed to get stamps so I stood in line. I’m so glad I did. The woman in front of me was 80 if she was a day, and she had on BRIGHT green pants, a trench coat over a simple blouse, and a matching BRIGHT green floppy hat with a long purple/pink/green paisley print ribbon wrapped around it.  She was carrying a backpack that had skateboards and graphics all over its black exterior.  Inside, she had a few packages she was sending.  She giggled as she tried to extricate them one by one, saying “I wrapped these up so  neat, and now I am going to tear them up just trying to get them out of here!”  I offered to help her and her smile lit the room.  Just when I thought she couldn’t be any cuter, the clerk called her to come up to the counter asking, “And how are you today, ma’am?”  to which she LOUDLY replied, “I AM BLESSED IN THE LORD, YES I AM!!” Everyone in line, myself included smiled broadly and a few chuckled softly.  Floppy Hat turned that sunny smile on all of us and said, “MERRY CHRISTMAS Y’ALL!!”  And I thought as I watched her, ‘I want to be her. Just like that. Now and always.’  It was a magical moment, and I hope I can keep the memory.

Random Shit – Just So You’ll Know I’m Not Dead…Yet

So, a few weeks ago we bought a farm.

Sweet clothespin jeebus, what were we thinking?  Not only did we double the square footage of house we will now occupy, but we like bazillioned the amount of outdoor space we will now occupy. Thankfully, most of the outdoors looks like a forest and that’s exactly how it will remain.

Oh, and hubby doubled, yes fecking doubled, his commute.  Mine will remain about the same, because traffic.

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. are we doing???

We’ve also listed some other property we own for sale, put my mother’s property on the market – and it sold in three days, but now we wait for probate and try to figure out the drunken monkeys who wrote the damned mortgage on the property’s thought patterns – and hope/pray/cry/scream in frustration over the whole fecking mess which boils down to will I really be able to sell it at all or must I back out of these deals because when I do sell the property the mortgage company will come after me for the entire mortgage when I’m only responsible for half?  Jeebus, I hyperventilate just thinking about it all.

Then, this past weekend we spent 745 hours cleaning, packing, and de-feckifying the current house so the listing agent can come take pictures of it tonight and put it on the market.  Let me just say it’s been a while since I dusted anything properly. Apparently. Trust me on this.

We told the kids, they got weepy, the grandkids cried, and everyone decided we had to have a farewell potluck in the old house in a couple of weeks before we actually move – which will happen on Halloween, as you do…or at least as we have done the last two moves.

So, I’m a wee bit distracted and a wee bit exhausted, and a wee-wee-wee all the way home aching from head to foot.

Oh, and this morning my tire alarm went off in the car so I stopped to put air in the tire and was harassed by a homeless guy on a bicycle.

Good times.

Things That Freak Me Right The Hell Out

We all have them, the things that you see or do or see others doing that freak you right. the hell. out.

Here’s a partial list of mine:

1.Getting a text from my dentist’s office about how excited they are to see me on such and such date.  Really? You look forward to inflicting pain?  Dentists are freakishly weird.

2. Having the vet’s office ask me which of my “kids” or “babies” I’m calling about, AND when I’m there and go into an exam room, they announce that so-and-so’s “mommy” is waiting in such-and-such room.  I’m pretty sure mating with animals is illegal…wait, it’s still illegal to mate with critters, right?  Tell me I’m right. PLEASE. Because, if it’s not then I’ve crossed over from freaked to full-on fecked up.

4. I skipped 3.

5. You just went back to look.

6. Drones.  I actually swatted at my hair the other night, thinking the drone overhead      was a swarm of bees trying to kill me.  In my defense, it was my first droney-bee           encounter, and it was high enough above me that I missed. Dammit.

7. My frat-boy neighbors, a/k/a  The Dronemasters.  They NEVER sleep. Never.  Go to       bed at midnight?  They’re up.  Get up at 2:00 a.m.?  They’re up.  4:00 a.m.? They’re             up! They do this every night, then all their vehicles leave during the day.  I think       they’re vampires…and now I’m really freaked out.  And lest you think I’m that             neighbor peering out my windows at the frat boys, may I remind you that I can’t see their house from the only window I have that faces them.  I have to go outside to verify this.  I’m just looking out for you.  You’re welcome.

So, what freaks you right-the-hell-out?

This..THIS Is Why…

…why I love my husband. so. very. much.

Picture a blender, filled to the brim with:

  1. Milk
  2. Greek yogurt
  3. apple
  4. banana
  5. raspberry
  6. strawberry
  7. blueberry
  8. honey
  9. protein powder

And by “filled” I mean 8 cups full.  The above is what goes into my blender every morning to make the smoothies we drink/eat for breakfast every day.

This morning was no different, at least not until the moment when I pushed the button and the bottom of the glass jar separated from the plastic fluglebinder what screws onto the bottom and fits over the pin that makes the whirly-whoosh go ’round.

It’s very technical, so try to keep up.

Suddenly it looked like some unfortunate soul had blown chunks all over my stove, the counter, the tiny space between the two, the blender and me.

“Feckity, feckity, feckity, FUCK!” I screamed.

Hubby, from the bedroom said, “What happened?”

To which I replied, “The blender came apart and there’s blender-puke everywhere!”

He came out of the room, obviously not able to grasp the concept of “blender-puke” and upon surveying the carnage said, “But, what happened? I mean how?”

“I don’t know,” I said, grabbing paper towels to try and stem the river before it hit the floor. “but, it looks like it separated.”

“How?” He asked, his voice registering agitation.

“Look,” I began, getting pissed, “I don’t have time to argue with you about how it happened right now.”

“What? You can’t multi-task?” He said, his face a deadpan.

I started to giggle, and then he started to giggle, and then we cleaned up the barf.

And that is why I love him. He makes me laugh, even when I don’t want to.

And you thought I was going to relay some sappy story about hearts and flowers and shit like that, didn’t you?  It’s like you don’t even know me.

 

Texts With a 4-yr. Old

One of my granddaughters is 4, and this is what happens when she gets a hold of her Daddy’s cell phone.

First, she figures out how to get to the text message screen, then she figures out how to find me in the Contact list, and then she starts sending me texts.   This kid is brilliant, I tell you, just brilliant.

But, I may be prejudiced.  Below is a screenshot of the actual conversation.

You be the judge.

texts with avery

I don’t know, I think it’s rather poetic.  Don’t you?  Look at how she cleverly inserted an actual word – derided – into the message, and then left me wondering…am I being derided? Did I do something that deserved such an outburst? Or is she simply pondering the condition of man, and his inhumanity to his fellows?  Or is it just ‘Ed’? And who is this Ed person anyway?

The kid is a genius.

 

I DID It!!

I made it through a nearly 2-hr shopping trip, at my favorite grocery store without:

  1. Singing very loudly, and off key, in the produce section – or any other section for that matter.
  2. Responding to a phone call/text with a blue streak of profanity that looked like I was berating myself

I did dance a little jig when I realized my accomplishments, though. And, no I didn’t do that in the store.  I did that in the parking lot to some wide-berth stares.

But, that doesn’t count, right? Right?

happy feet

Is Your Life Too Hard?

Well? Is it?

Is it YOUR fault?

Tim Hoch, at Thought Catalog, thinks it just might be.

And, in many ways he’s right.

What say you?

And Uh-One, And Uh-Two…

I love music.

No, I mean I really, really love music.

I have two genres that are tops on my list.

#1 – Blues and Swing; from Billie Holiday to Voodoo Daddy

#2 – Celtic; from the Celtic Women to..well, everyone else, it’s not a large pool here in the States

Numbers three through elebenty-hunnert include gospel, classic rock, Rat Pack, and country.

The other day, as I was shopping, I was listening to Pandora radio on my headset.  I have one station called “Thumbprint”.  It’s fairly new (to me), but I’m sure you kids have seen it.  It takes music you’ve “thumbed up” and lumps it all together in one station.

(An aside, you young’uns don’t remember but back in the day radio stations were mostly AM and most of them played a wide variety of music.  It wasn’t until electricity came along, and FM was born, that specific stations with specific music were created.)

I was getting my groceries to the crooning voices of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra, and tapping my feet to the huge sounds of Voodoo Daddy and Brian Setzer.

I was in the produce aisle when a beautiful hymn called “Down To The River to Pray”, sung by the incomparable Alison Krauss, came on and I stopped and closed my eyes for a second.

Then I started to sing.

You know how when you have headphones on you think you’re being really quiet when, in fact, you’re being exceedingly loud and everyone around you notices only you don’t because you’re so caught up in the moment and sure at any second someone from a major label is going to spring up from the fruit display and offer you a million dollar contract on the spot because you’re the most amazing singer since singing was invented and angels weep every time you use those pipes?

Well, let me tell you, it’s every bit as interesting as finding out you left the house without pants again.  Except with fewer recording contracts.

Totally busted while belting out a song in the middle of the produce aisle?  Can check that one off my bucket list.

 

More

…about moi…

*clears throat, considers what to put out there on the Internets, decides she’s way too boring/paranoid to say anything other than what’s already here*

Ahem…

Uh….yeah…

Well, that got awkward in a hurry.

Sorry.

Here’s a picture of a cute puppy to make up for it.

cute puppy

You’re welcome.