The Day I Set My Phone On Fire

Yesterday, Thursday, Joey had to work. I got a new cell phone in the mail and while I was sitting at the doctor's office (I've been dizzy for 4 days) I put all the phone numbers from my old phone into my new phone. (That saved me $10, I'll have you know.)

Joey's new cell phone had come a day or so before mine had, and about the second thing out of my mouth, once we saw the new phone, was, "Can I set your old phone on fire when we get home?!"

"Umh, no." Joey said flatly.

"Please?" I asked...

"No way. It's wasteful and destructive." I could tell I'd better quit pestering for the day, it was going to get me absolutely nowhere.

"Stink."

As soon as Joey left yesterday, my evil little brain began planning. He said I couldn't set his phone on fire...but he didn't say anything about mine. (By default I should have assumed that, no, I still should not set my phone on fire, but I chose not to follow that train of thought.)

I began gathering my tools.
I figured I needed lots of matches (to give it that little poof of flame every so often), my phone (obviously), toilet paper (for ignition), tape (to tape matches to the phone),










After I dumped those matches out, I realized that it had been a really stupid idea. It took me forever to get them all back in the box so they'd all fit, they all had to go a certain direction. I will not be doing that again. Ever.


I would have taped googley eyes all over my phone, but decided against it. I figured the phone would have enough trouble burning as it was.

I told Henry to stay inside and keep out of trouble, and I carried my loot outside. I had already decided against doing this on the parking lot (I didn't want Landlord to catch me), so I decided the best thing to do was to do it in the grill. I had put a call in to The Kid about 1o minutes prior to this, to ask him if I should take out the battery, but he never called back. So I left the battery in. (I realize now that this was probably not my brightest moment.)

I doused the phone, newspaper and matches with lighter fluid. I then moved the container of lighter fluid as far away from the grill as possible (I'm not a complete idiot) and set the edge of the newspaper on fire. A dry, non-lighter fluided edge.














This was the result:


I thought it was pretty sweet...but it did smell terrible.








The phone burned for about 10 minutes and began to make some strange hissing, popping, buzzing type noises. I particularly enjoyed the way the screen looked as it melted, it got all colorful and oozy. The keypad looked kind of like a gray shiny marshmallow that was burning up.














Joey called about 20 minutes after I had cleaned up my mess.

"Hey, what are you doing?" He asked me, probably assuming that I was cleaning, watching Anne of Avonlea, or reading a book.

"Um....Iwassettingmyphoneonfire," I mumbled.

"What?"

"I set my phone on fire...You didn't say I couldn't set my phone on fire!"

"Aaaaugh! I was going to give the phones to Best Buy, they'll reprogram them to dial 911 for old people."

I began to feel slightly guilty, but nonetheless quite satisfied with my phone-burning exploit.

Joeh sighed in the background. "I assume you took the battery out first?"

"Well....no." I said.

"Those give off dangerous chemicals!" Joey squwaked. It seemed like now was as good a time as any to tell him that I'd burned the phone in the grill.

He made some strange, indistinguishable noises. "I hope you're going to clean that up," he said.

"Well, I'll get all dirty, and besides, I don't really know how."

Fortunately, Joey laughed at me. "OK, I'll clean it up when I get home. You're crazy, you know that?"

Of course I know that. Why else would I set my phone on fire?

Spirit Beads and Toner Cartridges

Today is "Wear All Black" for spirit week. I actually participated this time, I am dressed from head to toe in black. I feel very svelte.

Computer Guy came in this morning to bring me the toner that I asked for a month ago. He was dressed in all black too, but HE had on silver spirit beads!

I shrieked, "WOW! You have spirit beads!" When I saw them.

"Spirit beads? Oh, yes, I do." He sort of chuckled at me. (This was, of course, after I'd said "Wow, I'm SO excited that you brought the toner. I'm really looking forward to seeing how dark the printer prints now". And I was serious.)

"I have to give them up if I talk to a football player outside of a class today. Whoever has the most at the end of the day wins some sort of prize. But if I still have them by the end of the day, I'll come give them to you," he said to me as he took the toner cartridge out of the box and put it in the printer.

I was positively giddy at the prospect. (Even more giddy than I had been over the toner.)

Just five minutes ago, Computer Guy came into my office wearing his spirit beads. He came over to my desk, took them off, and gave them to me. I put them on, of course. (If he was any younger than age 58, I would not have accepted them from him.)

I was chattering on and on about my new, sparkly spirit beads. Cleaning Lady looked at me and said, "Wow, it doesn't take much to get you excited, does it?"

"Nope, not at all," I was proud to respond.

Computer Guy had accidentally talked to a football player outside of class, but he breathed a huge sigh of relief when the football player didn't take his spirit beads. I guess he'd been saving them for me all day. I really, really, like them.

The toner for the printer is pretty sweet, too. You should see how well that printer prints now. It's pretty amazing.

Skateboarders

Some of you may recall that, previously, Joey and I called the cops on the noisy skateboarders outside our apartment window at 12:30 a.m. It was super fun, although the kids figured out the cops were coming and left before we could see the take down. (What a disappointment.)

Two nights ago, at 10:30, I heard the familiar whir and clack of a kid trying to jump over the grass patch that divides the two parking lots outside our window. Aparrently it's really popular with the skateboarders.

"I should yell 'TAKE IT TO THE MOOOOOOOON!' out the window and see what the kid does," I said to Joey.

"Yeah, do it!" Joey egged me on.

I slid over to the window and peeked beneath the shades, so the skateboarder couldn't see me.

"Is it the same ones as last time?" Joey asked.

"No way, this one's kind of plump." I whispered and ducked down, in case the kid heard me. He didn't seem to.

"Those others were kind of skinny, weren't they."

The kid geared up for another jump over the grass, and I made a decision. Instead of yelling "Take it to the moon", I was going to scream bloody murder as soon as he jumped.

He started rolling....he jumped....and I screamed. Super low, and super loud.

The kid froze. Joey and I dissolved into giggles (but his were very manly giggles), and he rushed over to the window to see what was going on. We sat there, on the floor, peeking through the 1 inch crack between the shades and the window sill, hoping the kid didn't know which window the scream had come from.

The kid, at this point, was looking around quizzically, obviously wondering what he should do. Was someone in danger? No, it wasn't a terrified scream, just an "aaaaaugh" scream. Was someone going to kill him? No, it wasn't quite that kind of a scream. Was he being watched? Definitely.

The kid picked up his skateboard and started to walk towards home. He kept looking over his shoulder, kind of nervously.

Joey leaned to the window and yelled, "TAKE IT TO THE MOOOOOOOON!" Guiltily, we giggled again.

The poor kid stopped again, looked around, and started back towards home. This time he was walking a little bit faster.

"I feel kind of bad now," I said to Joey as we crawled back under our down comforter.

"Yeah, me too. Poor kid. He'll be OK."

"But it was only 10:30 and he wasn't even bothering us...But it was totally hilarious."

We decided to fall asleep and not worry about the kid anymore. But I bet we probably won't do it again. Still, hilarious.

The Die Is Cast

Yesterday on the way to the grocery store I said, "Oh, did gas go up a cent?"

Joey said, "No...it's still $2.05."

"Oh. It looks like $2.06...oh, nevermind, now I can see that it's a 5 and not a 6."

Joey looked at me. "Do you need to be wearing your glasses?"

I began to squirm and squeal a little bit. I HATE wearing my glasses. They slide around on my face, make my eyes look smallish and beady, and generally throw off my groove.

"Start wearing your glass. What does that sign say?" He asked, pointing to a development sign.

I knew what it said, but I couldn't read it. He gave me The Look and turned into the grocery store parking lot.

Several hours later, after noticing that while I wasn't as blind as a bat, I sure couldn't see much at all, I said to Joey, "I need a reward. If I wear my glasses for a whole week, I want a reward."

He looked at me oddly. "You mean besides being able to see?"

"Bo-ring, I want a reward." I said, and flopped down on the couch beside him. "Can I have 50¢?"

"OK, fine. I'll give you some kind of reward if you keep your glasses on from tomorrow morning until next Tuesday evening. You can take them off to sleep, get ready for work, and maybe to read, but otherwise you have to leave them on. Then, maybe, I'll give you 50¢."

While noncommital, it was enough for me. Here I sit, merrily typing away with my glasses on. I guess I can sort of see better.

True Confessions

1. When I was 3, I stole a peanut off the floor in the grocery store and put it in my mouth. Mom caught me and made me put it on the conveyor belt (all chewed up and slimy) and pay for it.

2. When I was 4, I was dared by one neighbor girl (Carrie) to tell the other neighbor girl (Nicky) that she was fat. I did. Nicky ran home crying to tell her mom, who came over to yell at my mom. I hid in between the back screen door and the door (I was a really little kid) until Nicky's mom left. I don't remember how much trouble I got in.

3. When I was 5 we moved to another town and were visiting churches. I decided I didn't like my name after my mom and dad dropped me off at Sunday School, so I introduced myself as Heidi, for some reason. The morning went great until my parents came to pick me up and said, "Jenna, time to go..." I was so embarassed.

4. When I was 6 I was at my friend's house, and we went for a walk. Her mom told me not to run ahead, but I did. Far, far ahead. I had to sit in a time-out until my mom came to get me.

5. When I was 7 we had been reading Old Testament stories and one had been about stoning (I think, specifically, it was Achan). I was really curious about it; I couldn't figure out what it would be like. So, one afternoon, I saw a really fat toad hopping across our driveway, and I got an idea. I picked up the biggest rock I could find...and started throwing it at the poor toad. Since my aim has never been very good, I gave up after 5 minutes. I felt sick to my stomach and awfully sorry for the poor toad. I never told my mother until just a few years ago. (And I've never tried to stone anything since.)

6. When I was 8 or 9, I got mad at my friend and threw her purse in the snow. Immediately I knew I was wrong and felt guilty and bad, but she wouldn't talk to me or let me apologize. I called her as soon as I got home to try again, but her mom hung up on me. Can you believe that?

7. When I was 10 or 11 and at my Grandpa and Grandma's house, I'd say, "Um, I need to go to get some Q-tips from your bathroom, Grandma". Yes, I'd get my Q-tips, but I'd also try on all her lipsticks while I was there. This continued for several years; past, even, when I was allowed to finally wear make-up.. My grandma always had cool lipsticks. (I even bought one after trying hers.) As far as I know, nobody noticed I did this because I always wiped it off really well before I came back down to the family room.

8. When I was a freshman in high school, I was not allowed to go on dates. I accepted a homecoming date with a boy from my class, and my mom found out right before we left to drop me off. She let me go...but she made me pay the boy back. AT the bowling alley. Mortification. My mom and dad sure knew how to nail me.

9. When I was a junior in high school on Friday nights my parents set the timer to 10:30 p.m. and went to bed. It would go off if I wasn't home by 10:30 to turn it off. Well, I got home before 10:30, turned it off, and took my friend out to the barn to look at the cows. I only 'fessed up to this one a couple weeks ago; Mom never knew.

10. When I was either a senior in high school or going to Iowa State and home for Thanksgiving, I was out in the barn working one evening. Paws (our dumb dog) had caught a mole and was smacking it repeatedly into the ground. Mom rang the dinner bell, so I put Paws away, grabbed the mole and stuck it in a bucket of water. Dad really, really hated moles and I couldn't allow the poor thing to go free to wreck more of Dad's grass. Poor mole.

11. When I was going to Faith, I didn't delete "Baby Got Back" from my computer for at least a year, if not two years. And I even listened to it in my dorm room. (With headphones on of course.)

12. When I went to Faith, I'd put lounge pants under my skirts in the winter, and in the summer once or twice I didn't wear stockings. But I never got caught.

13. A couple months ago I was making popcorn for Joey and he said to do it for 2 minutes and 12 seconds. I did it for 2 minutes and 20 seconds and burnt the popcorn. Joey was not happy (but I was since I like it burnt), and fortunate for me, he forgave me.

14. Last Saturday, at Living History Farms, I found a huge white mushroom and poked and busted it up with a stick. (There were no signs saying don't disturb the flora and fauna, but I probably would have gotten in trouble if I'd gotten caught.) The mushroom was really fun to break, though, it was the size of a volleyball and foamy and squishy...

Rarrrrr

One of the fun things to do with/to Henry is to put him on our bed and to hide on the ground and pop up every few seconds and roar at him.

He totally freaks out at first, but then his tail starts wagging so hard it looks like it'll wag right off and he tries to get brave enough to look over the side of the bed to find you. SUPER cute.

This morning, while I was trying to get myself the gumption to get ready for work, I was playing with Henry on my bed. Joey had been playing with us too, when all of a sudden he sort of turned into this gelatinous blob and slid off the side of the bed.

Henry looked at him with marginal interest, but I was like, What happened to Joey? Why did he just fall off the side of the bed like that? Is he sick?

"Joey? Why are you down there? Are you OK? What is going on?" I asked, as alternately petted and teased Henry.

No answer from the husband.

Henry plopped on the fluffiest part of the comforter and started licking himself.

"RAAARRRRRRRR," screamed Joey, and he jumped up from the side of the bed.

"AAAAAAAUGH!!!!" I screamed, mostly out of terror.

Henry was unaffected. He did think, hmm, that's kind of weird and inch toward the edge of the bed, where Joey soon popped up with another roar. Then Henry began to get in to it and tried to pounce on Joey when he'd come up to roar at him.

I, meanwhile, was trying to get my heart to return to its normal pace. Joey had scared me so badly.

After Joey was done roaring at our dog, he asked, "Did that really scare you? Um, you knew exactly where I was. You saw me go down there."

"Yes, that's true, but I thougth something happened to you! You slid down there like maybe you were hurt, or something had pulled you down. Like a snake or something...."

Joey thought this was both amusing and pathetic. I tend to agree with him.

Pac-Man

Three days ago Joey came home with a stunning announcement: He could download Pac-Man to my(our) iPod for $5.

I love Pac-Man. A lot. (Once I accidentally spent $.75 on it at a pizza shop because I thought you had to put three quarters in to play when I could have gotten by with only one. But that's OK because I got to play for a really long time.)

Two days ago, Joey sighed, wilted, and said "I downloaded Pac-Man for you and I wanted it to be a surprise."

I kind of looked at him, oddly, and thought, Well, if you hadn't just said that, it still would be a surprise.

"I can't put it on the iPod when I'm at school, they blocked the store. So I have to go somewhere else to get it and I don't want to make you leave your iPod at home during the day," he said, still entirely wilted.

"Oh. Well I'd have given you the iPod if you wanted it." I said.

One day ago Joey took my iPod and actually installed Pac-Man onto it before he went to class. I forgot completely about my potential Pac-Man game until yesterday evening.

"Do you want to play Pac-Man?" Joey asked

"PAC-MAN?!?!" I screamed and bounced around while looked at my iPod. "I know what I'll do, I'll take Henry out and while I wait for him I'll play Pac-Man."

"Ok..." Joey said.

I haven't quite figured out the finer points of the "joystick" yet, but I'm getting there. I'll probably secretively play it off and on all day. I'll probably take it to the dinner tonight and play it with The Kid. as well as maybe even at the dinner at school tonight. But don't tell anyone.

G.P.S. Schmee.P.S.

My grandparents came to town yesterday evening. The goal: to go out to eat (and I also needed to hit Bed, Bath, and Beyond to get some kitchen utensils since several of mine broke within the space of a week).

Grandpa bought this new Jeep a few months ago, and he pretty much hates it. Aparrently it's not comfortable, has dumb features, and gets disdainful gas mileage. (We were getting 16.7 on the interestate last night, if that tells you anything.)

BUT...it does have this really sweet, and partially unnerving, GPS system. While Grandma and I were upstairs in my apartment fixing one of her shirts, Grandpa was down in the car having the GPS map him out a route from our apartment to Dallas, TX. The screen showed him where we were (streets with names, railroads, and "bodies" of water included) and had a little arrow deal pointing the direction we were going.

It creeped me out that I was being stalked by a sattellite.

I watched, mesmerised, as the little screen showed we were travelling on 1st street, and then it said "In 200 feet, turn right on to the interstate". Sure enough, there was the on-ramp on the screen. And we were on it.

We made a pit-stop before dinner and decided to use the GPS to find us a Chinese restaurant. It found us one 1.7 miles away, in the direction of Bed, Bath and Beyond. So we drove off, merrily.

When we reached our destination, we drove around for about 5 minutes before we realized it looked like the place had gone out of business. Grandma ran into the restaurant next door and, sure enough, it had gone out of business 3 years prior.

Three years.

So we tried again. We headed .7 miles away to China House and...it was closed, too. Grandpa was not a happy camper. Not at all. The Jeep was about to get sold, punched, and blacklisted. (Maybe not in that order.)

We were all hungry, by this point, and morale was dropping at an extremely fast rate. We had three options, I told them. The food court in the mall, a sit-down place that wasn't Chinese, or Panera.

Panera it was. At Panera, I mentioned about our Marble Slab break-up experience and Grandpa perked up immediately. (Not so much about the break-up, but the minute he heard "ice cream" he was a changed man.)

So, an hour or so later, we were sitting out in front of Marble Slab. Grandpa was eating a regular sized cone, and Grandma and I were happily eating our "under 12 or senior" sized dips. (Poor Grandpa felt left out since he didn't get an "under 12 or senior" dip, but he didn't seem to be any worse for the wear after eating all that extra ice cream.)

Afterwards we went back to our apartment (sans GPS instructions) and Grandpa let Henry misbehave and chew on his fingers. Oh well. That's what grandparents are for, right?

The Sky is Falling

I'm sitting here, minding my own business, when from the ceiling falls a multi-legged bug. Right on to my keyboard.

I jumped.

He slithered all his legs and antennae down under the number pad and he's currently under the Delete and Enter keys. He really grosses me out. I have tricked myself into thinking that since he's so far to the right, under the number pad, he won't get anywhere near me.

I'd squish him, but it looks like his entire body is under the Enter key and his back legs are all that are under the Delete key. So all I'll do is succeed in maiming him...

I also considered freezing him with canned air. But as yet I haven't.

IT JUST STARTED MOVING AND TRYING TO GET IT'S LITTLE FEELERS UP IN BETWEEN MY KEYS!!!

I'd better do something quick. Andrew says to turn it upside down and shake it. But I'm too scared it'll fall on me and scare me worse than I already am. I just called Joey to tell him but the thing started moving and I got scared and hung up on him.

The creepy thing is under the 0 now...I have to do something with it before it gets loose and I start screaming.

And I also have to call Joey back.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Last night I took Joey out for a $5 date. We were originally going to go to Gelaterie Stam (downtown) but thought better of it since it was getting late. Instead we went to Marble Slab and split a very yummy dip of ice cream.

I thought it was particularly yummy because even though I was taking Joey out for ice cream, he ordered what I would have gotten. (Since we were splitting.) Oh well.

We got our water glasses and sat down at a table inside. Originally we'd planned to sit outside with Henry, but the tables were gone so we left Henry in the car to destroy the leaf I'd gotten for him. (The leaf was quite decimated when we got back in the car, by the way.)

Joey, kindly, scooted a seat over so that I could "watch the people", as he knows I like to do. (There's something homey and comforting about sitting down with your husband, lazily eating ice cream and watching other people live. It's just downright domestic.) We both had been watching this loud, jovial couple come in and order their ice cream.

There were only two free tables in the shop and they were on either side of us. The couple sat down and began eating their ice cream.

I made several comments about the fact that the guy two tables away had way, way tighter jeans than I'd ever feel comfortable wearing. And the guy's girlfriend didn't seem to mind. This struck me as disturbing and odd, and I told Joey so. He agreed with me.

At the other table sat a lady I'm acquainted with, and she was very obviously on a date as well. I was enjoying watching her and her date when I heard something very shocking come from the table behind me.

The jovial couple.

Mind you that the guy in that relationship was not 5 inches away from me, and very unfortunately my back was to them. I'd been so distracted watching the other couple that my ears perked up halfway through the girl's first sentence.

Girl (loudly): ...Going out for about six months now.
Guy: Yeah
Girl: And I'm just not sure this is going to work.

Me: Joey, is she breaking up with him?!
Joey: It kind of sounds like it...
Me: She's talking loudly enough that everyone in the shop can hear her!
Joey: I know, poor guy.

Girl: It's, like, we're busy all the time. The only time we ever see each other is on weekends.
Guy: Yeah, I know
It bears note to insert here that she probably just wanted to date another guy. This is the worst break-up excuse in the book.
Girl: I don't want us to not be friends anymore though, becuase I think you're so cool.
Guy: Yeah, true.
Girl: One time I broke up with this other guy and we were just never friends again. He...

Me and Joey, simultaneously: Is she talking about an ex-boyfriend to this guy she's breaking up with?!
Joey: Yeah...I think so. I feel kind of bad listening to this. Poor guy, he just paid for her ice cream and everything!
Me: She needs break-up lessons.
We both dissolved into giggles. (Joey's were very manly, though.)

Girl: So, I just want to make sure that we'll still be friends.
Guy: Yeah, we will.
Girl: Well, thanks for understanding...
Guy: Yeah, no problem.

Joey and I got up to leave once we figured the drama was over. The now ex-couple was sitting there when we left. The girl/woman was gesticulating wildly and Joey said, "Is she still talking? Poor guy..." We noticed as we drove away that they were Drake students, so they had a long, uncomfortable drive home afterwards.

Honestly, girls, breaking up is hard enough without doing it in a small, echoey location like Marble Slab. (Especially when your voice projects like a megaphone.) Go to a park, walk around the mall, meet him at The Stick, go over to his house, whatever, but do something free and something private. That poor, poor humiliated guy.

I wrote this story in a hurry for The Kid yesterday. I don't think it's particularly funny, but Joey does and he said I had to post it.

So here you go.

The Greatest Story Ever
by Jenna M. Woestman

Once upon a time there was a cool kid named The Kid. He had a furry white dog code-named Firepower who had recently been shorn. Firepower was a lot like Samson, when he got shorn he lost a lot of his mad skills. But now that his fur was growing back, he was becoming unstoppable again. (He even had a hurricane named after him!)

One day The Kid's sister, named Piglet, came over to play. Piglet brought her main man (read: husband) Fairly Odd and their dog Wimper.

The Kid, Piglet and Fairly Odd went to Wal-mart to buy some explosives for their next caper. They left Firepower and Wimper at home in the care of Cute Mom, who liked Firepower as long as he wasn't jumping up on her or licking in between her toes. (She wouldn't really have much to do with Wimper at all.) The next day was Sunday and Fairly Odd had a real tricksy stunt he wanted to pull at The Kid's church.

The goal was to buy a whole lot of plump and juicy gherkin pickles (the tasty kind like they have at Old Thrashers) and cut the cords off all the lamps in the home lighting section. (This would keep them from actually having to purchase lamps only to wreck them when they cut the cords off.) Piglet was sent to the hardware section to try to find ten-penny nails.

For good measure, Fairly Odd and The Kid also got a lot of baking soda and Diet Coke to shoot off "bottle rockets" from the barn. They figured Super Realtor (aka Dad) might like to join in the melee.

After standing around in the aisles waiting a long time, Piglet was still nowhere to be seen. Fairly Odd and The Kid went to look for her. (They had to lug all their loot over to the hardware section , where they figured she was.) She was standing in the toilet seat aisle and was looking completely lost. Fairly Odd led her to the ten-penny nail section and she picked out 59 nails. The Kid told her to get more since they had a lot of pickles. He reached around her and started dumping handfuls into the bag while she held it.

After checking to make sure the lamp cords were sufficiently hidden from any Wal-Mart employees who might catch them, they left the store.

Back at the lab (a.k.a. the basement of The Kid's lair) they began setting up the glowing pickle lamps. Fairly Odd wanted to replace the light bulbs in the sanctuary with glowing pickles, as well as have some hang from the ceiling. The Kid didn't think Fairly Odd would get into murh, if any, trouble for this since he wasn't a regular attender of the church.

Piglet wasn't much help, she just ate pickles and tried to get Firepower to eat them too.

Wimper slept in the corner where the hamster shavings used to be.

When The Kid went to lock up the church that night, the three of them grabbed Firepower (their good luck charm) and brought him and all their glowing pickles along. They strung them up in the light fixtures and plugged them in to every available outlet. Firepower was very adept at picking the most powerful outlets.

It was decided that Firepower would come to church the next morning and throw the inagural "glowing pickle" switch. If they dressed him up in khakis and a polo, it was unlikely that anyone would recognize him. (Since he was so cool.) They all went home and picked out some clothes for Firepower to wear. Piglet gelled his bangs and sprayed him with cologne. When it was decided that Firepower looked extremely convincing and awesome, everyone went to bed.

Early Sunday morning Firepower woke everyone up with several gigantic licks. He held his leash in his mouth and barked morse-code that translated "Take Me To Coffeesmiths". Since Firepower was the official mascot and good luck charm, it was agreed that they must acquiesce to his demands.

After drinking a lot of coffee and getting the jibblies, the three (and Firepower) headed to church. They released Firepower in the room with the switch they had rigged up, and went to Sunday School.

At the appointed time, Firepower stepped on the switch. Pickles glowed all over the church. People were quite surprised and grossed out at the green, sizzling pickles hanging all over the place. Somehow they had not noticed them before.

Firepower sneakily slunk out of the church and trotted all the way back home where he woke up Wimper and began to beat him up.

The end.

The Remote-Controlled Whoopie Cushion

Last night, I ran to Wal-Mart (ugh) to pick up some things to make a pumpa-kin swirl cheesecake for Joey's Seminary picnic tomorrow evening. I need to add that Wal-Mart did not have three of things things on my list, so I wound up going to two (count 'em, TWO) other stores. On my way to the checkout I spotted a clearance dump by the front of the store. The "Remote Controlled Whoopie Cusion" caught my eye. Joey would love this! I thought, as I stood there holding the package, hoping nobody I knew saw me. The price tag said $3 (on sale from $7, which was on sale from the original price, whatever that may be) and while I thought that was a little high for the level of sophomoric humor, I knew Joey was worth it. What's discretionary money for, anyway? I rang up my items and noticed that it scanned for only $1. That made my foolish purchase seem a little bit less foolish to me as I bagged up my things and left the store. As I drove away, I dialed up Joey at work. "I got you a present!" I crowed to Joey. "Really? What is it?" "Well...it's a remote-controlled whoopie cushion," I said. Joey was slightly speechless. I'm not sure if this was because he was like "oh man, now I have to act pleased about this stupid present" or he thought "wow, my wife is getting cooler every day!" I choose to believe it was the latter. "Wow...what's the range on the remote control?" Asked Joey, "I want to know if I can set it off from the back of college chapel or in class." Hold it up there, Cowboy. College chapel?! "Um, I'm not party to any of that. And if you use this thing in class, don't you dare tell anybody your wife bought it for you". Joey began listing off some of his wild and crazy ideas for where he was going to use his new toy. I was wondering at my own sanity for purchasing such a thing, thinking I'd made yet another tactical error. This morning, we put the, um, whoopie cushion on the floor by Henry and pressed the button (it has four different, er, "sounds".) Henry began rearing up on his hind legs, pawing the air, and pouncing (like a kitten, I'm afraid) on the whoopie cushion. He'd hunker down and wait for it to...make noise, and then he'd try to pick it up and shake it around. This was pretty hilarious. I grabbed the camera and handed it to Joey, who caught Henry's antics on film. I apologize for the sound effects, they're kind of grody, but if you concentrate on the birds in the background it's not quite so bad. Henry's a kill, though.

Joey's "Dear John" Letter

Joey received this e-mail a few minutes ago. I think it's pretty funny.

September 8, 2006

Mr. Joseph A. Woestman
1234 Main St
Sometown, IA 11111

Dear John,

It's a pleasure to inform you that your application for admission to the Master of Theology program has been approved! We are looking forward to your enrollment as a new student in the Spring 2007 semester...

I was unaware that I'd married someone named John. Perhaps they got Joey mixed up with his pops? Maybe the admissions guy was like, "Hmm...do I call him Joe, Joseph, or Joey?!" and was so overwrought with indecision that he decided to just use Joey's dad's name to be safe. Maybe???

At any rate, it pretty much cracks me up. It's not every guy who gets a Dear John letter when he's married and his name is actually Joey.

Baby Face

I was walking Jamie's tupperware back to her this afternoon, and I took Henry with me. It was a bit too long of a walk for the little critter (2 1/2 miles...) but I think he did pretty good. (I did wind up having to carry him for 4 blocks because he looked like he was really thirsty. But then he does have a really long tongue.)

After leaing Jamie's container at her door, Henry and I headed down College Ave.

I heard "Hey, hey, hey" and saw some frantic waving directed to me from a guy over by one of the shady apartment buildings. I figured he was lost, needed help, or something. Not sure what else to do, I stopped and took my iPod headphones out of my ears. "Yeah?" I asked. (Henry siezed the opportunity to flop, since he was so terribly tired.)

The guy intoduced himself as "from the 'hood in Minneapolis; yo, I'm not even from your state" (that was reassuring right off the bat) and proceeded to explain that he was "in need of 25 credits" (of what?!, I wanted to ask) and would I please buy some magazines from him. Sorry, that was a really long sentence.

Scanning the list of magazines he proffered I noticed the "company" he worked for couldn't correctly spell their own name ("Movemeant"), and 80% of the magazines were inappropriate. For $20 a month I too could receive such trash in my mailbox every month.

I remembered an email I received two days ago from a lady at work saying there were some college kids going around our town scamming people by selling magainzes for college, Hurricane Katrina.

Or to "earn credits", I assumed.

Quite rudely, the guy asked me how old I was. I was kind of shocked at his audacity but I stuttered out "24..." to which he responded, "Aww, girl, you have such a cute baby face. I thought you was younger", or some variant thereof. (He couldn't have been more than 19 or 20 himself, and he did not have a "cute baby face".)

He continued addressing me in an increasingly flirtatious matter, and I was trying in vain to figure out how to extricate myself from this vortex of a guy. He was making me really, really nervous.

Finally I muttered something about "we're on a tight budget" and started dragging Henry away. The guy limp-fish shook my hand (I checked it over thoughly for any homing devices he may have stuck to me) and I made my furtive exit.

Honestly.

Mom Is Right

After only three days at my parents house, Henry has gone to the dogs. He used to be a nice, well mannered, housebroken furball; now he is a nice furball. (Actually he's still fairly well mannered now that he's remembering that when "mommy and daddy" say something to him, he actually has to do it.)

He pretty much got away with murder when we were in Cedar Rapids. Not only is he small and cute and everyone loves to talk to him in high-pitched, googly voices, but Ernie (his older cousin) is around to fight/play with.

We also get real distracted by The Kid and other siblings when we're at home, so poor Henry didn't get watched as closely as he should have.

Mom says Henry is getting us ready for kids, and she's totally right. Once we got Henry home on Tuesday, I realized we were in for a bit of trouble.

He was kind of needy, whiny, and altogether disobedient to normal house rules. (He acted a whole lot like us kids probably did after we got back from Grandpa and Grandmas and we got to eat things like Lucky Charms that our mom never let us have.) He also was having accidents every morning.

Which brings me to this morning.

I shut the bedroom and bathroom doors to keep Henry out in the open so we could watch him. I was out in the living room talking to Joey, and Henry was sitting under the glass-topped coffee table, looking angelic as usual.

Until I noticed he was looking up at me with sort of distressed eyes, the kind he uses when he looks at me when he's outside, doing his business.

Sure enough, he was. Right in front of me.

I picked him up, said "NO NO!" real sharply, and hurried him over to the door, holding him away from my body. Just in case. I didn't hear any little splats, so I figured I'd caught him in time. Joey was right behind me and as we got to the hallway, I handed Henry to Joey.

As I turned to go back inside I heard "Oh, he's losing stuff," and didn't think anything of it until....

squish

I began shieking and wailing. Henry looked all confused and traumatized while Joey hurried him outside. I had stepped in a freshly fallen Henry Present. Hopping on one foot, I promptly attempted to wash the unclean foot with a lot of soap and scrubbing.

Henry was extremely subdued when he came back inside, he knows he was a bad boy. Now let's just hope he remembers he's at home and he has to behave again.

Just like a little kid.

$34.25

This week on groceries, I only spent $34.25 of the $40 we have budgeted. Last week it was even lower, but I don't know the actual number.

I was so excited when I left Fareway on Tuesday.

Now it looks like I'll have to spend at least another dollar or two, Joey signed us up to bring dessert to the Seminary picnic on Saturday...and if I make pumpkin bars I need to buy cream cheese to frost them. (And maybe some of those candy-corn pumpkins to set on each of the bars. I love those things.)

It fairly amazes me that I can buy plenty of groceries for less than $40, when I used to have a terrible time keeping it at $50 last year when we had more budgeted. Half the time then it was closer to $60 anyway...so I've almost cut my grocery expenditures in half over the year we've been married! Coupons (and menu-planning) to the rescue! :)

Funny how organization helps...

Henry Gets Sick

Yesterday, I got a phone call from Joey while I was at work.

"Um, hon, I just got Henry out and took him downstairs to go outside, but I think he had a major accident in his kennel. He's wet, his face is all yellow, his neck is kinda goopy, and he smells terrible."

Gross.

"Do you think he threw up?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah, maybe. That's probably why his face is all yellow. He's laying around all listless, too."

Despite actual visual confirmation, we determined that Henry had thrown up in his kennel, laid in it, and then given up and decided to go ahead and have an accident on top of things, since he was already disgusting.

When I got home, the poor little guy just looked at me like he knew he was rancid. I picked him up to give him some love, but quickly put him back down after I found the soggy spot on his side.

In fact, he smelled so bad that I promptly filled up the bathtub and plopped the poor, sick puppy down in the water and scrubbed him up but good. He was more pathetic during this bath than usual, and I felt so sorry for him. If he hadn't smelled so bad, and been so sticky, I maybe would have waited for awhile.

Anyway, Mom says the dog is preparing us for having children. I suppose that's not entirely bad; since I can't handle it when people get the flu I might as well get broken in on my dog.

Grody. He better not do it again today.

"My" Baby Chicken

On Sunday night, after we launched the rocket, Pops, Andrew and I were down at the barn dropping off the LRV. I noticed an odd, disgusting smell in the barn as well as an orangey glow coming from one of the former horse stalls.

"Um, what is that over there?" I asked Andrew.

He sort of grinned at me and said, "It's chickens!"

Oh no. Chickens. I hate chickens. I flatly refused to have any part of them when I was in high school, which I am surprised that I got away with.

I ventured over to look into the stall and was pleasantly surprised to notice that these chickens were just little itty bitty babies, still all yellow and downy.

(It's the nasty teenager-type pullets that I don't care for because they're so gawky and ugly. And smelly.)

Andrew and Dad got out Dad's remote controlled airplane and hooked it up the the LRV engine to try to get it started. That didn't go so well (it was too high off the ground), so Dad brought out another one of his contraptions, and gave it a whirl. Literally.

Honestly, I didn't know that he still had that old riding lawnmower, but it's a good thing he did because it was just the right height to get the airplane started.

All the exhaust the airplane was putting out was making Andrew and I blow smoke rings (seriously, it was) and that really creeped me out. So I went into the chicken stall and made funny vocal-soaring noises at them and watched their little heads go up, down and jiggle around from side to side.

I selected a particularly cute chicken and tried to catch it.

No luck.

So then I just grabbed the next one I could get my hands on; fortunately he was pretty cute too. He tried to peck me, but since his beak was still rubbery and soft it didn't hurt.

I took him outside to watch dad's plane taxi up and down the driveway, and occasionally off into the pine trees.

Sister, Joey, Laura and Stephen were up by the house, so I took Chicken up to the house to be admired by them. Sister told me that Chicken might die, since he had been handled by so many people, so I took him back down to the barn. I'd hate to be the cause of an unpleasant dinner for Pops, him having just found Chicken dead in the barn. (He likes to keep the death toll as low as possible.)

On the way, Chicken and I happened upon the stray, whiney kitten, meowing his poor heart out in the pine tree that Dad had nearly crashed his plane into earlier. I stuck Chicken down as close to the kitty as I could get (which wasn't all that close) and the kitty ran back into the tree.

I figured I'd better put Chicken back before something bad happened to him, so I took him back into the stall and deposited him back with all of his other brothers. He quickly disappeared into the mass of yellow fluff.

I think I was supposed to feed them, but I didn't really know how. And twice I forgot to tell Dad that I never fed them...Joey even kept reminding me. It's a little late now to fess up to forgetting to feed the chickens on Sunday night, eh?

Dad, if you're reading this, I forgot to feed the chickens on Sunday night. That, and I didn't really know what to give them for food or water, so I'd probably have poisoned them if I had fed them anyway. Sorry. I hope they didn't die.

Better late than never!

Rockets and LRVs

On Sunday, Joey and I went to Michael's after church to buy a rocket. We wanted to shoot it off at stuff and then go chase it. We picked out the cheapest one ($5.47) and grabbed the biggest engines this particular model could handle. We figured a C6-7 would get the job done.

The guys duct-taped the rocket together and dubbed it "The Flying Duck". It looked pretty motley, but we figured that since the rocket was so small and the engines were so huge we'd only get one launch out of it anyway.

We assembled the crew and Dad and Andrew ran down into the lower pasture to chase the rocket. I got to be the one to push the button, since the rocket was my idea in the first place. I enjoyed this. I counted down, pushed the button and off shot the rocket.

In the entirely wrong direction.

Poor Dad and Andrew had to go running up through the pastures to the road, where the rocket landed and was retrieved. Dad doesn't like doing more running-type work than absolutely necessary, so as the rocket was being loaded back on to the launch pad (and I was retreiving some boots so I could be a chaser too) Pops went and got the Launch Recovery Vehicle (LRV), also known as Dad's work truck.

The truck really smells and is seriously dusty inside. It also has an empty Harry and David box sitting on the dashboard.

Joey wants me to insert here that I look "really cute wearing tall farm boots, running through the field and dodging cow pies". I need to insert that I really wasn't dodging cow pies, I ran right through them. It was the holes in the field I was dodging. Dad and Andrew brought the LRV up to the upper pasture to pick me up and we drove back to the lower pasture.

(I could probably have run down there just as fast, but I think Dad wanted to drive the LRV real fast through the pasture some more.)

Joey shot the rocket off and Pops, Andrew and I were off. Andrew singlehandedly scared the entire herd of cows in the pasture as he ran toward them. It was pretty amazing--they started charging in the opposite direction.

Dad was in the LRV hollering to Andrew and I where to go, and we ran happily through the soggy field, looking intently for the rocket. Dad could see that we were never going to find it (it had gone super, super far away), so he fired up the LRV again and drove off to try to guide us.

Good thing he did, too, because he found the rocket in no time at all. Andrew and I were in the wrong spot.

We had fun shooting the rocket, but we lost it on the third shot. It was too dark; hopefully we can spy it in the morning hanging from a tree or something.

That's all. I'm tired of blogging now.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot; Part 2

Yesterday before we left to go to Cedar Rapids, I stopped to fill the car up and grab a Coke for Dave. It was $2.34, which I thought was pretty awesome.

I filled up, went inside and got the Coke and went to pay. The cashier looked at me as I pushed the Coke toward him.

Then I said, "I have gas."

He looked at me again, rather blankly. I realized what I'd said and got flustered, trying to articulate which of the cars was mine.

It took several tries.

I paid for the Coke, the gas, and left the store feeling like a doofus. But at least it's made for some good stories.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

Yesterday, after Joey and I arrived in Cedar Rapids, we hit Arby's to have dinner with Sister, Stephen, Andrew and The Kid. They brought Ernie, who fought with Henry and amused us all.

We were just getting ready to go inside the restaurant and eat. Joey took Henry over to the front of the restaurant and he was standing in the landscaped area; Henry was down in the parking lot. He has trouble getting up over curbs still, he's real short still.

At this particular Arby's, the Drive-Thru goes right along the front of the building, right by where Joey and Henry were. And Henry was right in the path of any oncoming cars.

I could see that there was a chic in a hunter green old-timey car who had just gotten her food from the window, and was beginning to advance toward my husband and dog-child.

She looked...dumb.

Joey was still over on the landscaping and Henry was still technically in the parking lot, on his leash.

I hesitated....and then I hollered loudly, "Um, Honey? There's someone coming and she doesn't look real bright."

Silence from the Siblings. Then everyone started laughing and frantically checking to see if the girl who was "not real bright" had her windows down.

This is still unconfirmed. It could possibly have been since she'd just gone throught he drive-thru. At any rate, I have yet to live this down. "She's not real bright" comments have been circulating since the incident.

Well, Joey and I went to Target. We wound up not getting the black necklace, but a brown one with big chunky beads that I'd looked at the day before. (Joey liked it better than the black one.)

Good thing I'd waited--the necklace was $3 cheaper today so I only spent $7 on it instead of $10.

I like that.

Joey Is My Stylist

Yesterday when I was at Target, I happened upon a really fantastic pair of gauchos for $11, some brown sandals for $3 and some strange earrings for $5.

Having taken a temporary leave of my senses, I put the sandals back and opted for the earrings. I actually could use a pair of dark brown sandals, since I don't have on and it's not overly professional to wear beige beach flip-flops to work. (Which I've been doing.)

The earrings? Now that's another story. They're not useful at all.

I knew the earrings were unusual, but what I really wanted was this gorgeous black necklace that matched another pair of earrings Joey picked out for me at Dillard's last year. (The actual necklace that went with them cost $80, on clearance. We decided that was not a wise use of $80 and so I only got the earrings for $10. I like gift cards.)

At any rate, I really adored this black necklace and it was clearance, too. It was $10 but I didn't feel right about spending the same amount on a necklace as I would spent on some clearance gauchos for work.

This is mostly superfulous information. Sorry.

I got home, tried on the earrings, and saw the error of my ways instantly. Unfortunately, I didn't have the gumption to go swap them for the sandals, sinc eit was 9:00 at night and I had tons of work to do before I could go to bed.

So...I left the earrings on the kitchen table.

When Joey came home we talked about the sandals and the black necklace and the odd earrings. He was really excited that I found a black necklace that was similar to the $80 one (which he was super, super sad we couldn't afford. He told me he even looked for it on Ebay for me for our anniversary!).

"We'll have to go back there tomorrow," he mumbled...I could tell he was falling asleep.

This morning as I was getting ready for work, I heard a shocked, horrified cry from the kitchen. In the vicinity of the kitchen table, actually.

"What ARE these things?!" Joey hollered. "They're awful!"

I could only assume he was referring to my terrible $5 earrings. They were definitely going back to the store. (I love return policies)

"You should know by know that I am better at picking jewelery out for you than you are," Joey said.

Drat. He totally has a point.

Good thing I married someone with better taste than me, eh?

Oregon Trail

Today at work I'm purely decorative. I really haven't got anything to do, so my main job is to sit here and look like I'm busy. I hate that, I super feel bad doing it...but you can only reorganize your files so many times before you can't find things in them anymore.

So today, I'm playing the old-school Oregon Trail game on the Internet. The Kid found it for me online and I just killed off me, Joey and three of our children in my first attempt at crossing the Rockies in probably 15 years.

Next time I'm going to be a banker so I can have more money to buy clothes and stuff. This hunting business is for the birds.

Question:

Why are elections in America always on a Tuesday? It seems kind of arbitrary.

Silence

So I think CW2 is mad at me today. I have been in this office for over an hour and a half and he has not said one single word to me; nay, he has not even looked my direction. This is unusual because usually he at least tells me what I've done wrong lately by now.

Normally I would not assume this pettiness from a guy would mean he's mad at me, but for those of you who know what I'm talking about...it makes sense.

I think it's kinda sad/funny. I wonder how long he/we can keep this up. Good thing I can amuse myself by strange little things, otherwise I might take it personally and go in the bathroom and cry.

But where's the fun in that?

Since I know I didn't do anything, I figure I can just be amused by his general sourpussness. Don't people like that ever just get tired of themselves? I know I would. So anyway, I'm off to see how long CW2 can go without talking/looking/acknowledging my presence. And this way, it's kind of fun.

Poor, poor Henry

This morning before work Joey and I held Henry up to the computer and took distorted pictures of him using PhotoBooth.

The result was...disturbing.

Henry's Favorites

Henry enjoys eating people food, and I don't mind if he does, as long as he doesn't get it by begging from the table. I make him do something really good and then I give him a people food treat.

Things he likes:
1. Carrots
2. Peanut Butter
3. Green Beans (but only the inside, somehow he manages to suck that part out and leave the skin)
4. Apples
5. Blueberries (he freaks out over these)
6. Raspberries
7. Canteloupe
8. Tuna
9. Ground Beef
10. Whole Wheat bread
11. Eggs
12. Broccoli
13. Bird seed (But he can't digest it at all, so I wish he didn't)
14. Mashed potatoes

Thing he doesn't like:
1. Popcorn
2. Pineapple
3. Peanuts

He seems odd to me. He likes his fruits and veggies...but not popcorn. Obviously he's not related to Sister or me--we LOVE our popcorn. :)

Private

On Saturday I volunteered in the Millinery at Living History Farms again. It was a fantastic day, gray, cloudy and misty. (I loved it, anyway...it was a lot cooler to wear that big heavy dress.) I did slip on the boardwalk a time or two, but at least I didn't totally wipe out, which would have been really embarassing and indecorous.

After several lovely hours of sitting, visiting, sewing on my lovely deep blue and brown hat, and greeting visitors, I realized that all the water I'd been drinking was "visiting". That, and I wanted to go buy some 1875 period-approved earrings from the General Store up the boardwalk a ways.

I got directions to the nearest modern restroom (whew! some sites don't have them) and I was off.

They have hidden a modern restroom, lounge, and washing machine and dryer in the basement underneath the Tangen House in town. I was instructed to go up the walk, go to the left through the grass, and down into the "cellar".

I wasn't sure I could pull this off, I'd not been in the Tangen House but once before. But, armed with my brand new earrings, I set off to find the bathroom.

Fortunately, my fellow milliner gave excellent directions. There was a root cellar with one of the door propped open, and I went down the stairs, successfully not tripping on my skirt. The Tangen House must have been built on site, because it has a modern foundation and the basement is just like any other unfinished basement I'd ever seen before.

After I got lost a few times down there, I was ready to leave the world of 2006 and head back to the slow, peaceful days of 1875. I opened the door (that was labeled "Private" in old-timey writing) and stepped into the muted sunshine.

I looked up the stairs and saw four little boys and two men standing right at the cellar opening, staring intently down at me.

They cocked their heads and continued to stare at me.

I, flustered, looked at the steps. I realized, as I looked back up the steps at them, that they were probably not going to be moving anytime soon. They were still staring.

I was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable.

One of the little boys poked one of the other little boys and stage-whispered, "I wonder if that's the bathroom, maybe that's why it says Private."

Well, he hit the nail right on the head. I wasn't about to tell him that, though. Deciding I really had no other option, I picked up my skirt and started up the stairs.

Naturally, I tripped.

Flustered, I tried again.

And...I tripped again.

The boys and their fathers still had not moved. I kept my head down and shouldered my way past them, without saying anything, and walked on to the Millinery, leaving a shocked group of little boys and fathers in my wake.

I think they actually thought I lived in 1875.

1,900

I'm doing vendor files right now. The stack of labels for me to apply to files was between 3 and 4 inches thick a week ago. I did some counting and figured out that it's roughly 2,280 labels that I need to stick on files.

I have, as of a few minutes ago, completed 1,900.

If my back didn't hurt so badly from hunching over for the past couple hours, I might feel pretty good about getting so many finished.

Not saying that I do or anything...but I think this shirt is pretty sweet.

If only it came in womens' sizes...

I Am Not a Mind Reader

Here is an actual telephone conversation that I had not moments ago.

Me: This is Jenna

CW4: What about time sheets?

Me: Um...what about time sheets? (At this point I need to mention that there are four different things he could be wanting to know about time sheets. I don't have the answer to any of those four things, since I don't do payroll, so I can't figure out why he is calling me in the first place.)

CW4: (annoyed sigh) Where are they?

Me: We have some in the office.

CW4: Can I get some down here for my employees? (Still really annoyed tone of voice)

Me: Sure, I'll put some in your box.

After I hung up I discovered that he's supposed to have copies of time sheets down there, and he's supposed to be printing them off himself. So, I emailed him the entire file again. I have yet to figure out how that goes over.

I do want to point out that simply asking, "May I please have some time sheets down here for my employees" would have been a whole lot easier.
----------------------------------------
(Later)
Yeah, so CW4 just showed up looking for his timesheets. I told him I'd emailed them to him.

That did not go over so well.

Ketchup is Best When It's Cold

Last night I made meatloaf for dinner. I usually hate meatloaf, but the recipe I used was pretty good. (Thank you once again, America's Test Kitchens.)

Ketchup goes with Meatloaf like...Ren goes with Stimpy, I guess. Ya just gotta have the two together.

It was sometime in our first few weeks of newly engaged bliss that Joey and I had The Discussion about the location of ketchup bottle. He believes ketchup is best placed in the cupboard, since it does not say "refrigerate" on the bottle. I think that ketchup belongs in the refrigeragor.

Reasons Why Ketchup Should Be Refrigerated:
1. My mom refrigerates hers
2. Cold ketchup on piping hot burgers, meatloaf, steak, etc. always tastes the best
3. Ketchup looks best on the refrigerator door right next to the Worcestershire sauce (which, amazingly, also doesn't say "refrigerate" on it either)
4. Warm ketchup seems...creepy. I feel less concerned about the fact that it's shelf stable when it's in my fridge

My arguments really stink. I need to work on that.

However, at our house we do refrigerate the ketchup...but the Worcestershire sauce is in the cupboard by the molasses.

A compromise, I suppose.

Ebay is Awesome

My cell phone battery has been dying. At first I thought I could make it last a few more months, but it's to the point now where I can charge it up to full health and by the end of my first five minute phone call the thing's beeping "Low Battery" at me.

I checked into cell batteries, and the kind I need was going to set me back $50. I refuse to pay $50 for an itty bitty battery. As the saying goes, "like husband, like wife"; I decided to check Ebay to see if they had anything cheaper. (And, for those of you who may wonder, that's not really a saying. I made it up.)

They do--$40 cheaper. Including shipping.

I pretty much feel like I've kicked commercialism's butt. I probably haven't, but at least I feel better about replacing the battery now.

Dude, your phone's ringin'

On Monday mornings it's really quiet at work. I was frantically applying labels to file folders (I have to have 2,000 some done around the end of the day or early tomorrow) for a fairly time-sensetive project when I heard my little brother Alex's voice coming from my purse.

"Dude, your phone's ringin'...Dude, your phone's ringin'...Dude, your phone's ringin'..."

I jumped a mile. I forgot to put my cell phone on vibrate.

CW1's head snapped up from her desk, "What in the world is that?!" She asked.

"Um, that's my phone." I mumbled, as I dug around trying to find it. I silenced it quickly.

"That's your ringtone?" She asked, quizzically. "What in the world..."

"My little brother made it for me, it's what rings when my parent's house calls. It's better than when my brothers call, then it says, 'Hey stupid, answer your phone'. Alex recorded them for me special." I looked longingly at my phone; I was dying to listen to my voicemail. I always get so curious when people call and leave me messages during my day.

About an hour later, I got my chance. It was The Kid calling to tell me that his Mac had arrived--go him!

Ours has arrived too. (I checked FedEx.) I'm sure Joey's itchin' to go home and pick it up! Only fifteen more minutes until your class is out, baby! Hang in there!

My Stomach Hurts. Again.

Lately I have, admittedly, been consuming altogether too much junk food. It's like I have this "Sugar NOW" button that gets pushed and then I go on a mad sugar dash.

This is not good. Especially if I don't want to have to buy new jeans.

I have just finished consuming oatmeal raisin cookies (which I justified because they contained oatmeal and raisins) and drinking coffee. I am now shaky-jittery from the caffeine because I also drank a Mountain Dew about an hour ago.

Joey says my breath is "horrendously stinkable". I'm not sure that's very nice.

All these sugar cravings had better not be because I'm with child. That would be, um...interesting.

Anyway I'm tired of blogging and I'm going to go play with my iPod and run around the house all jittery-like. I'm really freaking out my brother-in-law.

200

This is my two-hundredth post. Two hundred times I have logged on here to blog about pretty much nothing at all. And the scary thing is...there are a few people who actually read it.

So, for those of you who have read my nonsense...Good for you.

For the rest of you, smarten up and read my nonsense.

The Sky Is Falling

On Sunday, Joey and I dropped Henry off at his parents' house before church. We didn't think it would be considered appropriate to bring him since Joey was preaching and I (wound up) singing. Having an adorable little furry Shih-Tzu on the platform with us would have looked unconventional and tacky.

We came home from church about 1:30, after eating a yummy lunch with some friends. After we walked in the door Father-In-Law1 said, "Well...Henry has had an interesting morning." He looked kind of sheepish as he said it, so I figured he'd probably accidentally done something terrible to our puppy and was trying to confess.

"I took Henry out in the back yard to go to the bathroom, and I was walking down the hill. Henry was following me. All of a sudden, I heard a tree branch snap and a thud. I looked behind me to see what happened, and a squirrel had fallen out of the tree and landed on Henry's backside."

Everyone in the room bust out laughing, most of all me. The mental picture of Henry, terrorized, with a disoriented squirrel attatched to his bum was more than I could successfully not laugh at.

Aparrently, Henry had taken off across the yard, yelping, and the squirrel had continued laying there on the ground, slightly dazed. My facts may be slightly sketchy, because I was laughing so hard I didn't hear as clearly as I wish I had.

Anyway, Henry's not a big fan of going out back. Father-In-Law1 says that Henry goes running around to the front door when he tries to take him out back.

I'd love to give it a shot, but it's raining extremely hard here right now and I'm not going to go get wet. And besides, my coffee is probably ready.

Joey hates it when I drink coffee, but I figure he's probably not going to be getting any kisses anytime soon because he's playing Xbox with Eric right now. Oh, wait, I didn't give Eric a code name. I suppose it's too late by now; I'd better not get arrested and/or fired.

I'm going to go drink my coffee.

Interesting

Joey found this note a couple blocks from our house while he was on a walk with Henry.

Dear Jenna,

I have left,

not sure when I'll be back,

watch out for zombies

Sincerely,

Eric Thaden

Although I have no idea who Eric Thaden is, I do appreciate the warning about zombies.

The Futility of Life

There are two things that, I believe, just point out the futility of life on earth. For example:

1. Backrubs
I adore backrubs, especially ones from my husband. He gives fantastic ones and works my knots out very well. The only problem with backrubs is that in no time at all, your back is sore again! Things like BioFreeze do help in making backrubs effects hang around, but still. The one time I got a massage, I remember thinking "this feels great now, but I will be sore again in an hour", and I was. Quite sore, actually.

Do really rich people just have a masseuse on call so they can have a massage whenever they feel like it? I would.

2. Washing the car/polishing the car tires
Washing the car I can understand, because if you drive down a gravel road then there's a good chance that you'll get dirty when you bump up against the car. And a good amount of muck and dirt on your car can make it get rusty, or so I'm told. (I'm sure if that's not correct Joey will send me a frantic email saying that no, mud and sludge on your car don't make it rust.)

It's the tires that really kill me. Polishing the tires?!

I actually was not aware that people actually washed and polished their tires with special tire polish until, one Sunday afternoon at Joey's parents house, Father-In-Law1 said, "Hey, kids, let's go wash your cars". I happened to have the Saturn down there for fixing, and Joey had his car down there too.

Gamely, we obliged. John has pretty much every single car washing device and/or product known to Sam's Club. He can get a car cleaner than anybody I know.

I thought, up until that day, that I knew how you wash a car. Ya get a bucket with soapy water, a scrubby thing (also known as a chamois, according to Father-In-Law1) and you scrub your car using circular motions all over the whole car. Except the roof, because that's too high to reach and you need a ladder or taller boyfriend (Joey and I weren't married yet) to wash it for you.

After I did that, hosed it off, and waxed it (with John's fancy car wax), and cleaned out the interior, I thought I was done.

No, I wasn't. I had missed the tires, and the weather stripping. (I didn't even know what weather stripping was.)

Joey patiently got out the tire brush and the shiny tire stuff. I was trying desperately to keep my question of "WHY!? The tires go on the road and they get dusty and dirty from the concrete; they're supposed to be dirty" to myself.

It worked for the first two tires. By the third, I couldn't hold it in any longer. Joey told me that washing the tires is, "just something you do becaues it looks nice". He did have a point, my shiny black tires did look nice. For about five minutes.

We have our own tire shiner now, and I have been known to spray it on my tires after I wash the car. I usually mumble to myself what a waste of time it is, but I do find myself standing back and admire the glory of the shiny black tires.

For the five minutes they look nice.

See? Futility.

Henry Gets Stuck

Henry was trying out his new bed when he suddenly found himself trapped!