Revenge of the Shave Gel

This is what our bathroom cabinet looked like last night when we opened it. Joey's shave gel must have exploded sometime during the day (how?!) and its ooze filled up the entire bottom shelf. The picture does not convey the true nature of the shave gel ooze.

Do you have any idea how hard an entire cabinetfull of shave gel is to clean up? Especially when the water pressure in your bathroom is next to nothing?!

Fortunately we had a shelf liner down so I grabbed that and took it to the kitchen sink to wash it out while Joey scraped the thick blue goo that was left.

That goo is not easy to remove, either. It's so terribly slimy.

We have no idea what happened; the can didn't really look punctured...and we know it came out of the bottom since the thickest, bluest junk was at the bottom of the shelf.

Grody, grody, grody.

Stuff like this always happens when you're trying to pack to leave town, ya know?

In Praise of Ernie (sort of)

I am so tired today, I have to make a big deal out of something in order to keep myself from falling asleep on my keyboard.

I keep breaking things (such as the copier, several times) and dropping things (such as my freshly washed Nalgene...into the trash can full of creepy spaghetti type stuff). I'm surprised I've gotten anything accomplished at all. Surprisingly, I've been quite productive. All things considered, of course.

Last night I bought Ernie a doggy ice cream cone for $1, and a doggy cannoli for $2. The cannoli is awesome looking, it looks yummy and edible. It's got little carob chips and carob swirls on it and is all full of dried whipped cream.

Delectable.

That is, if Ernie can get his little mouth around it--it's kind of plump and his mouth is very small. But I'm sure he'll enjoy licking out the dried whipped cream. He's quite a cute little pup.

Joey is probably bemoaning my affection for Ernie at this very moment. He thinks I'm rather obsessed. Perhaps he's right. But I still think Ernie is my cutest little nephew.

I think my tiredness is causing me to ramble on about boring, senseless things. I should quit.

A Remarkable Discovery

This has been such an eventful day. The goats have been out twice (fortunately some high school boys came over to get the three renegades back in this last time, and then they shooed them all down to the pasture they were supposed to be in) and I have just made the most amazing find.

I have a slight obsession with binder clips. You know, those black things that hold lots of paper at once?

Oh man.

I've always liked them, and a couple of weeks ago I found some really itsy bitsy ones and they fascinated me quite a bit. I usually hog them, too. I hate putting them on papers because I never get them back!

But....

I noticed a few weeks ago that there is a large, large box on top of a cabinet in the back room. It is labeled "binder clips".

I just hauled it down (it was excessively heavy) and opened it up.

It is full of binder clips!!! Thousands upon thousands of them!!!

I have only found one itsy bitsy one, but I'm planning on sorting the entire box so that I can easily restock myself when my favorite sizes run out. This could take awhile, but it's worth it to find all the small clips.

Public Snoring Should Be Banned

Last night, Joey and I went to a choral concert. It was an OK concert (kind of long). After intermission, I began hearing this loudish, obnoxious noise. It could only be one thing:

Snoring.

Some hoser behind us had fallen asleep and was sawing logs to beat the band.

It wasn't so bad in the louder parts of the songs...just when the choir was singing the softer, more emotive pieces. It was quite a distraction, if I do say so myself.

The entire time I was picturing some plump, older farmer with a straw hat and piece of hay in his mouth, slumped down in his seat, piece of hay vibrating every time he snored. I also imagined he had a rather hard-of-hearing wife who had a bright pink floral dress on with big turquoise jewellery. In my mind, I wished she would smack him with her handbag every so often in an effort to get him to stop.

I never got a chance to figure out which person behind me was the offensive snorer, but I sure do like my mental image.

I cannot tell you how much snoring grosses me out. It really bugs me. It especially bugs me at a concert because there's no possibility of kicking/smacking/poking the person who is snoring, because you don't know them.

If you didn't want to go to the concert in the first place and are going to fall asleep, I have two words for you--STAY HOME.

It is my opinion that people who fall asleep and snore loudly during concerts, graduations, and/or church should be fined. I think it should be a steep fine, too. Either that or someone should stand at the door handing out No-Doze.)

Speaking of cows, I had the craziest dream last night.

I dreamt of frosting. Lots of frosting.

I don't really know why, but Joey and I were in China again with our student Lisa. We were at a wedding and had somehow offended the bride and groom in a major, major way.

We were trying to sneak back into the reception because I had noticed that, in addition to cake, they had an entire frosting wall.

It was made of bricks, bricks!, of frosting of all different colors. I really wanted one.

I woke up right before I got a chance to have a frosting brick.

But when Joey came back from the store, he had a surprise for me--a frosted cookie! It had a big, plump flower on it.

I am ashamed to admit that I shrieked, "HONEY!!!! A FROSTED COOKIE!" It wasn't even 8:15 a.m.

My Magic, Drastic Weight Loss

I usually weigh myself in the morning, first thing. We have a nifty scale that has two settings (one for Joey, one for me!) and it records the weight difference from time previous. It's pretty sweet. I like it when it says ↓1.6 which, of course, means I lost 1.6 lbs.

Last night we tested the scale by putting two 10 lb weights on it. The scale read 20.6 lbs, which I figured is close enough for government work.

This morning when I stepped on the scale, glory hallelujah but I weighed an entire 10 lbs less than yesterday!!

I am not sure how this is possible.

I was wearing the same clothes and even had an extra sweatshirt on (since my house is freezing in the morning). If we hadn't just tested the scale last night I'd figure it was busted.

Maybe the gravitational pull of the moon is less today?

I still figure the scale is wrong--I don't feel (or look, for that matter) an ounce skinnier for my 10 lb weight loss. This isn't April Fool's day, is it?

Bang Snaps

Joey and I had to run to Hy-Vee to get some sugar. (We were out and I need a cup tonight to add to the Amish bread.)

Somewhere between the Pepsi aisle (Joey: "Woah! They have 10 for $10!!!) and the sticker aisle, I lost Joey. (Stickers are on the way to the sugar, dontcha know)

While I was trying to find him, I happened upon a display of 4th of July things.

They had Bang Snaps, 3 for $1.

I couldn't resist.

I looked around real quick to see if Joey was about, he wasn't, and I grabbed a box. I didn't want him to see because I figured I'd just start throwing them at the ground around his feet once we got outside.

I hadn't yet figured out how I was going to:
a.) hide them from him while in the store,
b.) pay for them, or
c.) get them out of the box without his keen eye catching me.

I finally found Joey. Or, rather, he found me. (I was in the sugar aisle.)

Joey: "Hey, what's that in your hand."
Me: "Uh, stickers."
Joey: "No, that other thing. Behind the stickers."
Me: "Um...don't look at that. It's a secret." Stinkin! That wasn't very smooth.
Joey: "I want to see."
Me: "No way, man. You can see once we're outside the store."

Joey kept trying to sneak peeks at the box of Bang Snaps I had hidden under the sticker package. He's really tricksy.

Since I'd forgotten my wallet in the car, I used his while he sulked over by the haircare products. Poor thing. He hates it when I keep "secrets" from him.

I finished checking out.

Joey: "Can I see the receipt???"
Me: "NO."

We headed outside. I was trying to open the package of Bang Snaps without being detected. It wasn't working. Joey kept casting sidelong glances my way trying to figure out what I was wrestling with in the pocket of my sweatshirt.

Once outside, I began pelting the ground around his feet.

Joey: "Oh, you got Bang Snaps."
Me: "What, you weren't even sort of scared by the noise?!"
Joey: "No way, babe."

Alas.

I decided to roll the window down and start throwing them at things outside the car. It was pretty fun, it made louder noises than when I just tried to weak-arm throw them myself.

Joey: "I dare you to throw a Bang Snap and hit that big green van when we drive by."
Me: "Um....OK, I'll do it!"

We passed the big green van. I threw.

Bang! Snap!

Bullseye.

Joey sped up and drove away real quick, just in case the van owners were in the yard and we hadn't noticed them.

After that I tried hitting Stop signs (too high) and throwing one in front of Yoda to see if he'd run into it and cause it to pop.

All that did was send the Bang Snap down into the engine somewhere. Oops.

Once we got home I threw some against a Port-O-John (they make cool echo sounds) and the rest against the wall. Joey threw his at me. They didn't pop. So he threw them against the wall, in which case they did pop.

I suppose he's lucky they didn't pop when he threw them at me.

And now I have to go watch the season finale of CSI.

In a Tizzy

I am positively helter-skelter today.

My attention span is about nil, and that could be due to a few reasons:
~I may still be traumatized from the rather large, gray, wolf-like dog I saw get obliterated on the highway this morning. It was my first time to witness a roadkilling.
~I've been trying to get these dumb percentages to equal all morning long, and they're off by the tiniest margin. I'm about to start throwing cotton balls at my computer screen.
~I may get voted off the island.

All things considered, I am impressed that I've gotten as much done as I have.

I still do wonder if that wolf-like dog thing I saw get smashed this morning was a wolf or a dog...

Erstwhile

People keep asking me what "erstwhile" means.

I suppose I'll just tell you, even though you could look it up on dictionary.com. This is easier, though, right?

erst·while (ûrsthwl, -wl)
adv.
In the past; at a former time; formerly.
adj.
Former: our erstwhile companions.

I am an "erstwhile telemarketer" because I used to be. (But not any more, praise the Lord.) In the past I was. Formerly.

You know.

Disgusting

I experienced one of the grossest things of my life this morning.

It was random drug test day. That's all well and good, but they used our microwave to microwave the samples!!!

I microwave my lunch in that thing.

Why do they need to get it warm, anyway? Seems they should just be able to drop a few drops of something in the little specimin jar and it would turn colors if there were drugs in the sample.

They should NOT put it in my microwave!

As soon as she left, I got the highest octane antibacterial cleaner I could find. I hosed the inside of that microwave down and then cleaned it out with dish soap and hot water. While zapping urine in my microwave is highly, highly disgusting, I figure it's only slightly less gross to be tasting the vestiges of the bathroom cleaner I used to sanitize my microwave with.

Acronyms Don't Mean Anything Anymore.

So aparrently it was a really big deal that I get an RSS feed on my blog. The Kid, The Brother and Joey harangued me considerably about it. The only problem is, I can't even figure out how to get links to appear in the "my links" part of my blog much less do something with an RSS feed.

Perhaps this wouldn't have been so hard if I could just remember that it's called an RSS feed. I was all geared up to go change my settings and thought I had it all figured out until I said, "I'm gonna go change my blog so that it's got an RSV feed".

Joey just laughed at me.

"Did you just say RSV?!" Joey squeaked out.

"Humph," I said, realizing that I must have gotten my acronym wrong.

The next day, I thought I'd done it. On my blog it said something about an RSF (or so I thought) and that made perfect sense to me. "Remote Site Feed" must be what it stands for, so that's got to be the right thing. The Kid will be so proud of me.

I emailed Joey and told him I thought I'd enabled my RSF feed. Again, I got back ":) Yeah, I'll check it out. and it's RSS :)"

Who the heck invented RSS?! It's so stinkin' annoying and hard to remember.

A day or two ago Joey and I were talking about this darn feed and I said, "What does that stupid acronym stand for, anyway? I could remember it a lot easier if I knew what it stood for."

"Well, nobody that I know of knows what it means. It must just be one of those things."

So I figure it stands for Really Super Sweet. (Makes sense to me, anyway.)

In Which Jenna Requests Comments

So I can't figure out how this works.

Alex, aka The Kid, has had a blog for a whopping three days. He has three comments. Now, granted, two of them are from me, but the third is from ANDREW.

Joey says Alex is kicking my blog-comment butt.

I figure no one really reads this blog anyway, but if you do leave me a comment and make me feel better.

My Bangs, or Lack Thereof

Yesterday after we got home from Omaha, I had a "brilliant idea". My bangs were really bugging me because they're kind of long, and I thought I'd just cut 'em up real short.

So I did.

Now I could have stopped by just nicking the ends so that they were not in my eyes anymore, but I didn't.

I could have stopped after I took them up 1/4 inch, but I didn't.

I could have even stopped after I took 1/2 inch off, and yet I didn't.

I think they're something like 3/4 inch shorter than they were yesterday at this time. I was quite traumatized yesterday evening. I kept thinking, "I look like Amélie!!" (Well, they're not quite that short.)

Fortunately, my bangs were pretty long to start out with. Stretched out, they came to the end of my nose. Now when I flatten them, they hit the top of my eyebrows. I really hacked 'em off good!

This morning when I was getting ready I wasn't quite as heartbroken as I was yesterday; now I even sort of like my little fringies masquerading as bangs!

Sort of. :)

H.A.T.E. Strikes Again

This Sunday is Joey's and my first anniversary. We're going to Omaha to hit the zoo, go to the symphony, and otherwise just hang out. I'm quite excited.

The only problem is that I've been grounded from mentioning Ernie, Coolguy's doggy! I can't talk about him from Friday night (tonight) until Sunday night.

I suppose this is all my fault.

Joey likes Ernie OK, as long as I'm not going on and on and on about his cuteness, guilelessness, and overall adorability. I generally talk about him two to three times a day, which annoys Joey to no end (ask him, he'll tell you!) and sometimes I even make up songs about Ernie.

Last night (or maybe it was two days ago?), I think I overdid it.

Poor Joey had been working overtime to try to get this video done for Mom Woestman and he arrived home kinda late. I think it was about 11:00. Normally I'm asleep by then, but I can't fall asleep anymore if I'm all alone. That and I was hyper about something. (Maybe that scrumptious coffee you made me wasn't as decaf as we thought, Jamie?) :)

I began singing odes to Ernie. (serious)

I waxed eloquently about how cute his little face was.

I praised his little white fur.

Joey said, "OK, that's it. You can't talk about Ernie the entire weekend. I am not going out of town for my first anniversary and hearing about a puppy dog the entire time."

He has a point.



I said I wouldn't mention Ernie until Sunday. Let's hope I can keep my word. Just so everyone can appreciate Ernie's ultimate cuteness, I have included a picture.



And so that everyone can get a close-up of the guy, here's my favorite one. LOOK AT HIS FACE!!!



I suppose none of you will fault Joey for starting the H.A.T.E. club. (Husbands Against The Ernie) Fortunately, the only members are Dad, Stephen and Joey. Nobody else is allowed.

I love Ernie. Now I'm done. Until Sunday.

YAY! This is my 100th post!

Neutrality

In an effort to avoid having join the war of Office Politics, I have decided to declare myself neutral. I printed off a Swiss Flag, colored it (and used most of my red crayon) and posted it at my desk.

I am now neutral.

I haven't set up my countries borders yet. I have a feeling that all the CWs might wonder what had happened to me if I started taping Lines of Demarcation all over the floor with masking tape.

Just wait--in the next battle I can whip out my flag and say, "Hey, don't ask me. I can't have an opinion; I'm neutral!"

Update:

I am not arrested and/or fined yet. More later.

No one has outbid me in the Tupperware auction yet, but they have 1 hour and 43 minutes to do so.

My CWs 1,2 and 3 are off "svelting", so I have the entire office to myself. I do not know what "svelting" is, but I think it has something to do with Weight Watchers.

The Five Woes

Many bad things have happened to me today.

1. I am wearing a long, long white skirt and I keep getting it stuck in the wheel on my chair. This causes the skirt to get very dusty and I'm afraid it will tear.

2. The Kid just went through Jiffy Lube and said he didn't lock his keys in his car. This has brought back many unpleasant memories from the last time I got my oil changed at Walmart. I locked my keys in my car during their busiest time of day, and my car was 2nd in line to go in. And blocking traffic.

3. I bid on 10 Tupperware orange peelers on Ebay and I found a good deal. I put my maximum bid up to $3.50 and then, five minutes later, found a better deal with better available colors. Now I am blue. I'm hoping somebody outbids me so I can get the better deal and better colors.

4. Since it's a slow day at work, I decided to experiment with PowerPoint, since I've only used it one other time and that was last week. I made a slide show for the bus driver rules, since I'm retyping their handbook today. (The only reason I'm doing that is because I haven't got much else better to do yet.) Joey wanted to see it, so I emailed it to him. Now he says it's terrible and that I broke all the rules of Bad PowerPoint Presentations and that it's abysmal. He's sending it back later, edits included.

5. This one is The Doosey. Two months ago when we traded in my car, we realized we couldn't find the title. I figured that it got lost in the mail and was with my Social Security card, which also never arrived. So I hoofed it down to the Polk County building and got a new title made. A week later, we traded in the Stinky Saturn. As we were leaving, I remembered that I'd forgotten to grab the title. I ran upstairs and got it, and while I was doing that, I found the original title. I figured I'd just throw away the duplicate title, forgetting that I'd said I would mail it back to the Polk County people if I ever found the original. We traded off Stinky Saturn, never to be heard from again.

Today.

Joey sends me a message, " Hey, I just got a call from Toyota of Des Moines regarding the Saturn. They wanted to know why we got a duplicate title issued. What did we do with that second title? Do you remember?"

My poor little heart almost stopped. I heard my mother's voice in the background, Your sins will find you out, Jenna!

I figure I've really done it now. I'll probably get fined and/or arrested because I probably signed some paperwork down at the Polk County building saying it was OK for them to do that to me if I didn't mail the duplicate title back.

If only I'd done what I was supposed to with that stupid title instead of shredding it. I thought it would be OK!!!

I promise I'll let you know if I get fined and/or arrested. And if I get outbid on the Tupperware. What a morning, it's only 11:30!

Is bluffing really lying?

I had a dream. It was weird. I suppose, since I haven't got anything better to do right now, I'll relay it here.

It was an early Saturday morning. Joey and I were at my parents' house and were up with the sun. Dad came into the kitchen and said, "Hey, Jenna and Joey, I want you guys to go over to one of the houses in the new development and check it out. I know people live there right now, but since it's real early I bet they won't be home yet." (Yeah, the logic kind of doesn't make sense to me either, but remember...I was asleep when this all happened.)

So, Joey and I grabbed the doggies Ernie and Gus (who was visiting) and headed out.

We approached the large red-bricked (on two sides, the other two sides are white vinyl siding) home on the corner of the two streets in the new development. We always have liked this house but felt rather sorry for it because of the white vinyl siding.

Joey and I snuck in.

We had to sneak in, of course, because people lived there.

We headed upstairs with the dogs. We were looking in all the rooms (the beds were messy and unmade, but nobody was in them). Ernie kept going to the bathroom on all the lamps. I kept telling him not to, but he kept doing it. I cleaned up after him for awhile, but then I finally gave up.

Joey decided he was bored, so he took Gus and went outside.

Lucky him. As soon as he left, I heard a sound from downstairs. I froze. Somebody's in the house! I thought. I snatched up Ernie, who had taken a break from checking out the lamps and darted for the stairs.

Around the corner came some guy I'd never seen before. And he had just gotten out of the shower, so he was only wearing a towel.

I screamed.

He screamed.

Ernie just kinda sat there.

"What are you doing in my house?!" The guy asked.

"Uh, uh, uh, my dad sent me here to....look for something!" I bluffed.

"OH! You must be----" He said somebody's name I'd never head of.

"Uh..." I said.

He cut me off with, "My dad left that for you in the study. It's right around the corner. I hope you can find it, it should be sitting right on the desk."

I was rather shocked. Sweet! He's not going to have me arrested for tresspassing! Well, wait until he goes upstairs and looks at his lamps...

"Oh, OK, thanks." I said, and ran down the rest of the stairs, pretended to go look in the office and then zipped out the front door.

Joey and I took off running and ran the entire rest of the way home. As we ran I thought, Man, that was scary. But at least it'll make good blog material.

Forunately, I woke up right away and realized that it was all a dream. But my heart was still pounding and I was still super embarassed until I fell asleep again.

And that's the end of my dream. Weird, eh? I love how I can save face, even when I'm sleeping. It's a good skill.

The Grand Total

It's a slow day. So I decided to count all the paper we have stashed away in our office. We go through a lot (2,000,000 sheets this last year) so I figured we'd have a ton of it. I was right.

White--371,000
Salmon--3,500
Cardstock--1,500
Buff--4,000
Blue--6,500
Rocket Red--1,500
Orchid--5,500
Canary--4,000
Goldenrod--5,000
Green--14,000
Cream--8,500
Tan--7,500
Gray--8,000
Pink--8,000
Cherry--12,500


This comes to a grand total of 461,500 pieces of paper. Too bad it's not a few thousand more, then we'd have half a million!

As you can see, it's a slow day.

Why Walmart is The Great Satan

Yesterday, being Wednesday, Joey and I went to church. It was our first night down in Youth Group, which was quite fun. We had decided to ride our bikes to Walmart after church, so we boogied out of there pretty quick so we could be home before 10:00. I figure it's about a 7 mile round trip to Wally World and back.

I have no idea why we decided to go to Walmart instead of Target. We both dislike Walmart, but after yesterday...the dislike is much, much worse.

Here are some reasons why I hate Walmart:

1. They have "People Greeters" at the front door who give you uncomfortable looks when you walk in. I used to wonder if they thought, when they saw me, "Holy cow, how many times can a girl go to Walmart in a week?" But that was before I quit going.

2. Walmart carts are really junky. They're usually swervers and usually have a busted wheel.

3. It's hard to find someone, anyone, who knows what you're looking for, and harder still to get them to come help you. A particular instance comes to mind: Sister and I were at Walmart trying to buy sparklign grape juice once. Naturally, they were out. So we called some guy over and he said, "Um, I'll go get someone." He ran over to the little phone hooked to a post and paged someone to the juice aisle over the intercom. Aparrently his scanner said there were 4 bottles of this stuff in the store somewhere, and this other person was supposed to find them for us.

We waited. And waited.

No one came.

Sister finally decided to go to the film area to grab something. I said I'd wait for the juice guy.

I waited.

I got tired of waiting, so I snuck over to the wall phone the guy had just paged the juice person on, and pushed "intercom". I paged him again. It was really weird hearing my own voice go out on the loudspeaker over the entire Walmart store, but it was satisfying at the same time.

Still no one came.

We finally gave up and went to Target, where they had exactly what we wanted. Target always comes through.

4. Walmart keeps their groceries on the opposite side of the store from the toiletries and hygine items. SO ANNOYING! Target, on the other hand, has all that stuff together. You can run in, run out and never have left the green side of the store. It's beautiful.

5. There are only about 5 people running checkout lines at any given time at Walmart. This forces people to use the "Self Check" lines. Oh. My. Word. This brings me to last evening. Joey and I got our groceries (mind you, we rode our bikes over and it was 9:20 pm) and headed to check out. Nobody was in line for the Self Check line, so we started scanning away.

We get entirely done, and go to weigh the 6 red potatoes that we'd picked up for dinner on Sunday, since we're having company.

The scale is broken.

We hit the "help" button and wait for the girl to come over and fix it.

"Oh, the scale's broken on this one," she says. The proceeds to try to weigh the potatoes three more times. "I'm going to have to get someone to help you with this."

That's fine, we wait. Joey's wondering why the lane is open if the scale is broken. I don't have an answer for him.

Some lady comes over, not the manager who was called, and decides that she'll be the one to help us.

She weighs the potatoes. "Oh, this scale is broken." I consider beating my head against the conveyer belt. She weighs the potatoes three or four more times. Nothin'.

The manager comes over, sees that this lady is "helping" us and leaves.

She weighs the potatoes again. And again.

Finally, she gives up and starts typing things into a screen. The potatoes ring up for $14.44. "Woah!" Joey says.

The lady is embarassed and tries to take the charge off. People behind us are mumbling and grousing. I consider telling them to go get another line, this scale is broken anyway. I don't do it.

A few more minutes pass. The lady finagles the machine to ring the potatoes up for $0.05. I suppose I should be happy that I just paid five cents for potatoes, but my annoyance level is kind of high. I keep my mouth shut and we leave the store.

Twenty minutes later.

Self check lanes are a waste of your time. Especially at Walmart.

6. Last, but not least, is those stupid metal detectors. Every time I walk through one, I set it off. Doesn't matter if I am carrying anything, if I have my purse, or if I stole something. (Which I don't do.) I set the darn thing off.

As we're walking out, commenting on how we'll probably never come to Walmart again unless someone's got a gun to our heads, I set the alarm off.

The "People Greeter" we saw earlier makes a beeline for Joey, who begins digging through the bag trying to find the receipt.

He can't find it.

I consider just running out the door, but I realize that won't help Joey be able to leave any faster, and besides, he has the keys to unlock the bikes. So I stand there. Joey digs and digs....

Finally, he finds the receipt. It was stuck under something.

The People Greeter allows us to go on our way.

All this is why we're never, ever going back to Walmart unless we have no other options available. Sorry, Dad.

Flashback to Second Grade

It's a small world.

I was sorting resumes for our 2nd grade position that we have open, and I came across my 2nd grade teacher's resume! For the purposes of this pseud-anonymous blog (Grandpa) we'll call her Miss T.

Miss T. was, perhaps, my scariest teacher ever. She was probably early 40s when I was in 2nd grade, and I recall that she was very plump and round. Her face especially.

She had a twin sister who was also single. (Aparrently she still is since she has the same last name.) I think her sister was a teacher, too.

In any case, all I remember of Miss T. is that she yelled all the time. All of the time. Consistently.

We'll see what happens with our position here...maybe she's gotten in 15 years. Maybe?

Wherein the Birds Have an Outdoor Adventure and Learn Great Lessons

Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, two well-adjusted, satisfied parakeets, took it upon themselves, one fine afternoon, to venture into the periphery of Daveland.

Daveland, as you know, is a lush, green paradise. On the edge of Daveland there begins a rocky desert with a large oasis.

Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley set out. They began by looking at some antiques at an open air market. Mr. Bingley was the most fond of this old duck.

He thought the chipped paint gave it "character".

As the duo traveled and enjoyed the sunshine, Mr. Darcy noticed a small grove of sacred lilac bushes. The two friends, knowing that lilac bushes were very, very precious, should also have known to stay away from them.

But these birds have never been known to be good.

Mr. Darcy promptly encouraged Mr. Bingley to join him in the sacred lilac bush. All was well until the unthinkable happened.

Mr. Darcy began nibbling on the sacred bush!

Suddenly, the two birdies were transported to the barren wasteland of the desert. Mr. Bingley was quite upset with Mr. Darcy for his sin.

The sun grew hot and the birds began to get thirsty. The birds also noticed that they were beginning to get a rash. Mr. Bingley was convinced it was part of their punishment for eating the sacred lilac bush.

Mr. Darcy said he had once heard of a rusty bird that was raised high in the air, and all that sick birds had to do was to look up at it and they'd be healed. So the two set off in search of the rusty bird.

They needed to stop at an oasis where they found some shade and water.

They began to feel better, but they were still not totally free of their rashes.

Finally, Mr. Bingley saw the rusty bird! They scurried over nearby and gazed up at the statue.

Slowly, the rash began to fade!

"Hooray!" Chirped the birdies.

"I will never nibble on sacred lilac bushes again," pledged Mr. Darcy.

"You'd better not," said Mr. Bingley. "I didn't like that rash."

The end.

I'm Not Yet Ready For the Olympics

On Sunday, Joey preached in Monroe. He did a great job.

I slothed in a hammock all afternoon and basked in the warm, spring sun. It was fantastic. I didn't watch any TV and I didn't have to get jumped on by the big dogs.

By the evening, when we got home, I was ready for some serious exercise. Joey had brought home his odd-looking (but extremely cool) bike, and so we were ready to hit the streets.

I grabbed my blades, and we were off.

First of all, I need to mention that the streets around our apartment are not smooth. They have patches of extreme roughness, and tons and tons of sand and gravel.

Second of all, the reader must be aware that I only learned to rollerblade last year and I am really, really bad.

Third of all, I have only fallen once, and I didn't really hurt myself too badly. This was last year. I figure I'm due for a good one here soon.

We were going down 3rd street(or, rather, Joey was riding his bike in circles trying not to get too far ahead of me) and I was doing great. I'd stumbled a few times, but I hadn't fallen.

It's such a rush to almost biff it good, but then save it at the last minute.

The road is really uneven, so it's hard to tell if I'm really a bad blader, or if it's the road. I hope it's the road.

The park at the end of the street had a nice new concrete path around it, so I took a spin or two. I tried to be like the Olympic speed skaters and go super low and cross my feet over the other on corners.

I almost fell. Chad Hedrick, I am not.

Then this dumb kid couldn't make up his mind as to which side of the walk he wanted, so I had to crash into the grass. At least I didn't fall on my face, though.

So...I'm going to keep working on my blading. I need some serious help.

On a random note, there's these little red bugs crawling all over my desk. They're extremely small, kind of neon, and very annoying. Does anyone know what they are? And how do I get rid of them?

Joey Wears The Pants

I told Joey last night that I was not getting up before 10:00 am under any circumstances. It didn't matter if I was awake before then, but I was NOT getting out of bed.

I got up around 8:00 am to get a drink, but shuffled back to bed since Joey had a friend staying with us anyway. I heard them rumbling around out there, giggling every so often, and making pancakes, but I was not to be enticed to come from my nest.

No way, Jose.

About 9:30, Joey came in.

"Jake's gone, aren't you going to get up?"
"No. See how it's not 10:00 yet?"
"Well....yeah, but you're awake."
"That's true, but I'm not getting up."

He did not go away, he began tickling me. Cruelty.

20 minutes later, I'd had enough of his evilness. He wanted me to get up so we could go on a super long walk. It's a really nice morning, I guess.

And so, against my will, I got out of bed at 9:51 and we were out of the house before 10:00 am. I'm trying not to be too bitter, he was right about it being a nice morning.

In fact, it's now 10:40 am and we've walked to the library where I'm writing this.

So much for my "I'm not getting out of bed until 10:00 am!" I guess we know who wears the pants in our house...and it's definitely not me! :)

Buy a Toyota, you must

Yoda the Toyota and I have a new convert.

This morning Bus Driver, one of our bus drivers (duh), came blasting in here. (Which was a welcome change, since it's so stinkin quiet around here today.) Bus Driver is an older farmer who is retired, and two weeks ago he came in here in a big stink because he wanted to steal my car.

Serious.

He was gonna take the keys and take mine and leave me with his scary motorcycle, which looks like it shouldn't run at all. It's quite haphazard.

Bus Driver said he loved my car (which I'd just gotten) and that he wanted one super, super bad.

I told him he couldn't have mine, he'd have to get his own.

So Bus Driver comes in here, sun at his back so all I can see is a dark silhouette of a man flapping his arms, and says, "Look! I got me one too!"

I was a bit stymied as to who this guy was and what he was talking about, but I finally figured out that it was Bus Driver.

"Look out the window!" He was waving enthusiastically for me to come see what he was talking about.

I came over and saw a green Corolla parked two cars down from my silver one.

"I got it on Saturday," Bus Driver said proudly. "I just loved the way yours looked so much that I had to get one."

We talked cars for awhile (which was hard for me since I don't know anything about cars, I just made stuff up) and then he left in his new, shiny green car.

I could hear Yoda saying, from the parking lot, "Proud you have made me. A convert we have won!"

So all y'all go out and buy Corollas.

Let's Start a New Trend: Walmart Walking

My mind works in mysterious ways, I do not deny.

The other day when we were having a really huge storm out, I decided to go to Walmart to buy a weather radio, since we don't have a TV and it's kind of hard to know when it's safe to come out of the dungeon basement. (Poor Dad doesn't necesarily want to be checking the weather every 5 minutes for us, either.)

In any case, as soon as I got in Walmart (which, I might add, is my least favorite store of all) the storm got much, much worse. I began to wonder if the roof would blow off. I decided that since I was already inside, I might as well stay in there to die rather than to die by being blown off the road.

I began walking laps.

I know it is considered normal to be a mall walker, but as yet I haven't heard of Walmart walkers. Perhaps I'm the first one.

After my first lap, I began to be curious as to how many laps of the ginormous store it would take before I hit a mile. I figured somewhere around 10. Just to be sure, I called my dad. He thought 5.

One of us was probably wrong.

If I had been thinking, I'd have figured it out right then. But I didn't know how long my stride was, nor did I bother to count my steps in a lap.

This brings me to this evening.

I decided to go figure this out once and for all. I had my human calculator (Joey, of course) measure my stride. Turns out that it's only 2 feet, which is exceedingly disappointing. I thought normal people were supposed to have a 3 foot stride, but perhaps it's just because I'm short.

The total number of steps came out to be 360, which is roughly 720 feet. Dividing that into 5,280, we can, therefore, conclude that it's about 7.33 trips around Walmart to walk a mile.

I did all this math on my phone, just so you know, so if it's wrong I blame LG.

For those of you who are about to become Walmart walkers, I hope this information is helpful. I do wonder, though, how you intend to do a .33 lap of Walmart. That entails much more math than I'm willing to help you with...

One Million Kisses

One day when Joey and I were driving to my parents' house, I got bored.

Generally I do not get bored, but sometimes in the car it does happen. So I decided I'd try to figure out something that had really, really been bothering me.

If someone was going to have a million kisses in their entire life, how many would they have to average every day?

Knowing, as some of you do, how bad I am at math I decided I needed to get out my calculator. So I turned to Joey and said, "Hey, how many kisses a day does it take to make a million in someone's life?"

Joey mumbled to himself for awhile.

"100," he said.

"HOLY COWS!!" I said, "100?! That's like....a LOT."

These figures are, of course, based on 25 years. If you intend to live for a really long time, you only have to get 55 a day in to hit your million.

By the way, all those parental kisses when you were little don't count. It only counts once you get married, so those of you little tricksy people who figure you'll go start tomorrow...think again.

I wonder if they'll make a kiss-o-meter (you know, like a pedometer?) to count them so people could know what they were up to. I dunno, it probably wouldn't sell.

Acting like Adults is No Fun

For our 11 month anniversary we decided to do something cheaper than going on an actual date at a restautaunt or museum or something. So we went to Heritage Park and threw a Frisbee around (which, I might add, I'm not much better at than I was last year. The winter off didn't help much) and then went to take a walk.

We found that the bridge over the creek was flooded, so like the naughty little kids we are, we dragged a bunch of big rocks from the side of the creek bed and dammed up the water.

Since I was still wearing work clothes and had gotten them throughly soaked/grass stained/muddy from dragging said rocks hither and yon, we decided the best thing to do was to get our water shoes and come back and finish in the morning.

We did, of course.

I was so excited about playing beaver that I, much to Joey's chagrin, woke up at 7:30 the next morning which was, of course, Saturday.

He recovered from his sleepiness once he got his feet in the freezing water, and an hour later, we had successfully dragged enough rocks over to really tick off the guys in the Parks and Rec department, who eventually get to put t hem all back. We had also dammed up half of the water flowing over the bridge.

It was quite a proud moment. And yes, that is the bottom half of me in the background. I think it really ruins the ambience of the picture, don't you?

Parakeet Travels

Last night was CSI. I like CSI because I get to hang out with Jamie. Sometimes I take the kids because Jamie likes birds too. She asked me to bring them yesterday, so I happily acquiesed.

About 7:30 I stuffed the kids into their travel cage. They scuttled around and chee-cheed at each other; they hate being in small spaces like that. Hoping it wasn't too cold outside, I began my walk.

I shouldn't have worried, I think it was 80 degrees with about 75% humidity. It was quite warm and there was a nice breeze, which the birds tolerated very nicely.

We walked along at a nice pace, the birds having sensory overload at all the new sights, sounds, and smells. They particularly enjoyed the Robbins chirping in the trees, which I thought was very cute.

I suppose it's not considered "normal" to walk down 1st street carrying a cage with 2 parakeets in it, but then who said I was normal in the first place.

I got many strange looks from people in cars/motorcycles, and several people who really, really looked like they wanted to stop and figure out why the heck some girl was dragging a couple of tropical birds around.

Jamie's roommate, Brooke, is afraid of birds. Poor thing, I didn't know she was going to be there or I wouldn't have brought the kids along. She gets afraid when they fly--kind of reminds me of Mom.

Maybe next time I'll take them to Hy-Vee and see what happens. Naah, I'd probably get kicked out.

(Sorry guys, it's a slow news day. The birds will have to suffice!)

FYI--Joey does NOT have Bird Flu. I don't even think Parakeets can get it. So to everyone who was worried (and I know there were a few of you...) put your minds at rest. No Bird Flu.

These are our Babies on the railroad tracks.

I came home yesterday and Joey had the birds on the back porch. They were in their little travel cage, which is fine, but he said, "I'm going to go take them to run around on the grass!"

Oh boy.

So I went with him for crowd control. The birds actually enjoyed their experience, but were afraid of the grass. They don't like being poked in the face, I guess. The railroad tracks were their favorite. Aren't they cute?

Poor, Poor Joey

What a day. It's is most definitely Monday.

I woke up at 5 and with the feeling that something wasn't right. It wasn't. First of all, I was awake at 5:00 and should have been sleeping, but second of all, only Bear and I were in my room. I thought, Hmm...I wonder what happened to Joey. I'll go try to find him and hopefully I won't scare him really bad like I did last time.

Last time I scared about 7 years off his life. I know now that it's a really bad idea to stand quietly directly outside the bathroom door, in the dark, at 3:45 in the morning "waiting my turn". It really scares Joey when he opens the door and sees a fuzzy something-or-other standing there.

But I digress.

This time I figured he was in the bathroom, so I stood off to the side over kinda by the kitchen so I couldn't be blamed for scaring another decade off his life.

I heard mysterious noises. It sounded like....teeth brushing. Oh no! I thought, That can only mean one thing.

Sure enough, the barf bug bit Joey sometime after 1am. Poor thing.

So I reset my alarm for 7, but wound up not sleeping for the next hour and a half. I felt too sorry for poor Joey, who had, by this time, worn a path in the carpet. So I grabbed a hoodie (with the hood most definitely up, to cover my bedhead) and headed off to HyVee.

I've never been to the grocery store before 7am, and I really don't care to do it again any time soon. Strange people in bright blue shirts are overly helpful and wind up coming across as overbearing and disturbing. I didn't care for the experience.

I was glad that I had a late meeting in Des Moines this morning, which got out early, so I could come back and check on poor Joey on the way up to work. Now I'm off in 8 minutes, so I should really stop writing.

I think Joey got the flu from our birds who, of course, have Bird Flu.

Bird Flu!

I guess I'm on a birds theme.

I think our birds have the Bird Flu. Serious. Their white feathers on their heads are turning yellow, and I was reading on some site the symptons of Bird Flu. Here they are:

• Irrational screaming at familiar objects
• Inability to eat seed without throwing most of it ground
• An insatiable appetite for Romaine lettuce, particularly that lettuce which has been thrown on the ground
• An unusual yellowing of the white-coloured features of the head
• Develops a propensity to try to escape captivity, particularly through screens

When I read those symptoms, my heart turned cold. Our Evil Birds have exhibited not simply ONE symptom, but ALL FIVE!!!

I feel I must explain.

We took out most of our Evil's toys so that they'd appreciate them more. We started putting them back in the cage several days later, but in different spots. Mr. Darcy cannot handle this. S/he runs up to the very familiar toy, screams at it while flapping her/his wings, and then runs away from it back to the "safe" perch.

Lately, the Evil Duo have been throwing seed on the ground by epic proportions. Then even go down there and EAT THE GOOD STUFF THROUGH THE BARS if it gets high enough! (The bottom of the cage is bars like the sides, and under the bars is a tray that's usually got newspaper in it...and that also fills up with seed that the Wasters throw down there.)

Every evening when I make our salads, I cut an extra piece of lettuce for the Tricksy Gnomes. They love baby Romaine lettuce best, but that's too expensive, so I just get regular Romaine. Anyway, that's not important. The Dingbats will immediately run down to the lettuce dish, fight over who gets to be closer, and then throw all the pieces of lettuce on the floor. Then they'll go down and eat them. They like it better if I get all the pieces they threw on the floor and put them back in the dish so they can throw them out again, but I rarely pamper them so.

Two days ago, Joey noticed that Whitebird's head was turning yellow. I scoffed at him. Yesterday, I noticed that not ONLY was Whitebird's head turning yellow, but so was Mr. Darcy's!!! This seems to be the most serious of all the symptoms, to me, and I think we'll have to report our birds to the place that takes Bird Flu information.

On Wednesday, we took the plastic off our windows because it was such a beautiful day. (Of course, it got back down to 30 two days later, but that's OK. We still had fresh air.) Whitebird, being the sinner that he is, decided that he wanted to escape from his loving parents. He flew, full speed ahead, to the open window, curtains fluttering in the breeze....and bonked into the screen. Whitebird was stunned, of course, and sat panting on the windowsill for a few moments. Then flew back to his cage where he proceeded to sulk for the rest of the evening.

So you see, I think our birds have Bird Flu. Joey and I will probably be the next to die from it.

Iowa Oddities

Seagulls, first of all, should not live in Iowa. There's no sea and I think that confuses the poor little things. Saylorville Lake does not qualify, in my mind, but for some reason, we have seagulls.

This morning, the poor things were really mixed up.

We've had quite a bit of rain lately and some of the fields have big wet patches in them. Now, granted, these wet spots can't be more than an inch or two deep, but they're definitely there.

As I'm driving to work this morning, I noticed something very, very odd.

I was driving past a nice, muddy field with several wet areas, and in the water stood about 25 seagulls. They were only in water up to the middle of their little bird-legs, but there they were, standing in it and thinking, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home". Who knows, maybe if they think hard enough, they'll get transported to an ocean somewhere.

I thought, Gosh, it's too bad those birds are so confused. I hope it's an isolated incident. Maybe they have Bird Flu?

As I came upon the next field, full of more, smaller water patches, I saw more confused gulls. As far as my eyes could see there was black dirt and small circles of white seagulls pretending an Iowa field pond was the sea.

Too bad they didn't remember they were about 5 miles from Saylorville Lake. I'd have told them, but I don't speak Bird too well.

At least my birds at home can't seem to understand me.

So anyway, I don't think it's Bird Flu, I think the seagulls just need therapy. Maybe we should invent a Seagull Therapy Buddy, what do you think Jamie? :)

Nothing To Say

Happy Monday, everyone.

Today I typed competencies ALL DAY LONG. It's been really exciting. I'm almost done with Social Studies...except I have to transfer it all back over to another document because I hate stupid AutoFormat. Screws everything up.

The hightlight of my day was my TB test and "employment physical". I had to go to make sure that I'm alive and am, indeed, sane enough to hold a job in such a stressful environment. (Turns out I'm sane enough to work, isn't that grand?)

TB tests hurt. They burn and whatnot. I'd rather not ever have one again. If I really get TB from the amount they shot in me...I'm going to be hosed.

Well, an hour, a blood sample, 120 pills of an antibiotic, and who knows how much money later, I was on my merry way back to work. Turns out I have a "raging skin infection". Good thing I had to go to the doctor to make sure I was sane in order to find out about that!

Well, that's all. I have to get back to formatting.

Always Think Before Speaking

I went on a walk after I finished cleaning my house. I saw several cool things, one weird thing, two disturbing things, and did one dumb thing.

The cool things were very cool. I saw a very plump robin and some guy that drove by and his licence plate had the last three letters of MEW. So, of course, I walked along saying, "mew, mew, mew" for awhile. Good thing no one was around to hear me.

The weird thing was that I saw an older lady (she was probably 70) wearing forest green gauchos, black nylons...and black ANKLE boots. She was really, really trying to be en vogue, but the nylons and ankle boots really tanked it for her.

The disturbing things were very disturbing. Some dumb guys in a Toyota yelled at me and honked, and I had even thought, "Oh, they're driving a Toyota. How nice for them." I guess not so nice. The other one was that I saw a little Shih-Tzu almost get run over by a big, black Dodge Dakota. I don't like those trucks anyway, but seriously. Watch the cool dog, buster.

And...the one dumb thing I did...

I was walking past this house and there was a rabid Chihuahua tied up outside. He saw me and started barking like he was insane, and barring his teeth at me. I said to him, rather loudly, "Good thing you're chained up, varmint."

Just as the owner came out and told the dog to be quiet. His name was Fuego. (The dog, not the owner.) A rather fitting name.

Anyway, I was traumatized that I was calling the guy's dog a varmint in front of him, so I walked really fast and got out of there.

Now I have to go, the liberry is closing and we're going to have a storm.

I'm in Cedar Rapids this morning. I woke up at 6, hung out with my parents, annoyed baby chickens, got scratched by a barn cat (right in the neck, it's really nasty), and gave Ernie a bath.

So far I'd say it's been a pretty productive day.