Monday, August 30, 2010


The hubs and I went to get a dog. We decided it was what we were going to do. We found out that the Humane Society was having an awesome special deal over the weekend, we decided to go for it, when else would we have such the perfect opportunity to get a puppy for practically nothing? The deal was, if you brought in a much needed pet item: food, treats, towels, bleach, peanut butter or some suchness, you could name the price you wanted to pay for the adoption fees. Well, us being the wonderfully cheap people we are, we went right in with a jar of peanut butter.

Now, you might be sitting there thinking, "What?! She just said she hates dogs. Now she's going to get one? Crazy person?!" And that's very well good and true. ...however, sometimes the hubs is gone, and when he's gone I would like some protection. Thus the dog. But this dog is going to have to be one heck of a special dog to win me over. Cause, as we all know now, I do not like dogs. But I feel as though there might be one special one other there. Maybe. Maybe. ...and that's why we are looking for a dog. This dog is going to have to not bark, jump, climb, scratch, nibble, bite, prance, or run. Well, he can bark, but only should an unwelcome guest appear. And bite, but given the same circumstances.

So, we go looking for a dog. The right dog. There are dozens and dozens of puppies. Nope. There are big dogs and small dogs, but they all bark and hop and are just pretty crazy. Plus, none of them are really very cute. And if we're going to get a dog, it sure as heck better be a stinking cute dog. We don't see any that suit us, even though we've gone to a bizzilion different humane society places. There is one more. One more. We go and look. Why not? We are already out. The hubs sees one he likes. Personally, I can tell just by looking at it jumping around like crazy and barking non-stop in his cage that he is not the one for me. But they get him out and stick us in a room with him. The dog's jumping and barking and spinning in circles and then starts to jump on me. Naturally, I jump on the counter. O no. This dog is not happening. They put the dog back.

I remembered seeing one dog in the whole row of dogs who was not jumping up and down like a maniac, or barking. I asked to see him and they went and got him. Now, this dog, this dog was nice. He did not jump, he did not bark. He let me pet him without trying to devour my arm. O sweet thing, I want to take him home with me. The hubs agrees, he likes him too.

Before we do take him home, we want to talk about it, to make sure we really want him and that I really like him. He is pretty much the nicest dog I have met since Clarabell. He even has a little bit of wrinkliness going on on his face. Plus it's a really good sign that I didn't hop on the counter when we were trapped in the little room with him like I did when the other dog was in there. I'm pretty sure I like this dog... We name him Oswald. Before we even get him, that's how sure and excited we are about getting him.

So excited and 100% sure that we are going to get him in fact, that we go out and get him all kinds of doggie goodies and treats. A crate, a little pillow bed, food, water and food bowls, treats, a bone, and some snazzy looking dentist for dog chew toy. Oswald is going to love it all.

Oswald is a mix, as are a lot of the dogs we've seen at the Humane Society. Some of his mix is... pitt bull. This doesn't bother us in the slightest, in fact I quite like it because that means all the better protection for me. However, we happen to remember one of our friends talking about home owners insurance going up with a pitt bull in the house, so the hubs calls. The insurance people won't know till Monday, it's Friday. The hubs calls again and again and the more people he talks to, the more confident they are that they would drop our policy if we got him. So the hubs shops around. Only, everyone else is ten times as much as our current policy and if we didn't have him insured it would cost us a million dollars if he bit some one. Not that he would, cause he's not that type, but you never can know. And a million dollars is a lot of money.

It's a sad day when we realize we can't get Oswald. He was such a happy sweet lovely dog.

And now, I'm pretty sure we will only ever dream of getting another dog. It will probably never really happen. O well. ... unless of course, you happen to have a red and white Welsh Corgi puppy for sale. That's my new pick. If we can't get Oswald, the only other dog I will get is a Welsh Corgi. But seriously, if you have one, I want him.

Friday, August 27, 2010


Now, I have never been much of a person for dogs. With on extreme exception: Clarabell. Oh, how I loved Clarabell, she was the most wonderful most sweetest, most cutest, most precious dog ever in the world. Ever. She was. I loved Clarabell and Clarabell loved me. She loved me so much that nearly every time I picked her up she would scratch me or try to bite me. But I didn't care. I loved her. There are not many things I remember very clearly from my childhood, but she is one of them. We had a dog, Tucker. He was a nice dog, and I liked him too, but the day I saw Clarabell I fell in love. She was a little puppy shar pei with golden fur. I loved her wrinkles. She was like a life size cuddly non-sticky prune! Only it was a little tricky to cuddle with her cause she would continually scratch and nibble at my arms and legs as she tried to escape my loving arms. In-spite of her bites, I loved her so much I abandoned my beloved dolls and favorite stuffed piggys just to play with her. I found doll clothes that fit her and I would dress her up in them (she was so cute!) and I had the best little doll basket ever. It had two handles and a lining (a miniture Moses Basket), to keep the dolls comfy. I let Clarabell sit and lay in my doll basket. One day after wrestling her into a cute little dress and bonnet I set her in the basket to take her on a walk around the yard. But when I picked up the basket it popped. The handles broke. Clarabell broke my baby doll basket. She did. It's true. I was momentarily downhearted, but it didn't last long, cause I had to chase after her as she ran away in the little dress and bonnet. I just loved her so much. Oh how I loved Clarabell. I really did.

Then came the day we had to give her away. Mums and Fater told me we were really just watching her for the summer and it was time to give her back to her owners. I was devastated.

Not long after that I went with my Aunt to visit her boyfriends Dad. I was sooo excited too. It was just me, Aunt, and Boyfriend. I got to go on a special trip, just me and them. I was just so excited. The Dad had dogs at his house. And since I loved Clarabell and Tucker, I loved all dogs. I wanted to go see them. So we went. The dogs were locked up in separate barns on opposite sides of the yard. Safe, right? You would think. We went down in the yard to look in at the dogs (who were safely and securely locked up), but as we were peeping over the fence at the girl dog... the boy dog escaped. A big growling ferocious boy dog. Somehow after the boy dog got out, the girl dog found her way out too. They were running... right to where I was standing. Two angry, big, mean, barking, growling, in heat, dogs, running right to me. Terrified I froze. The natural thing to do, of course. Thankfully Boyfriend swooped me up on his shoulders right before the dog bit my leg, and ran inside the house. Unfortunately Aunt was not as lucky as me and one of the dogs bit her. We went to a clinic and had to get checked by the doctor (in case the dogs had rabies or something).

I do not like dogs. No. I am terrified of dogs. I am horrified that a dog will run up and bite me. Even years after the attack I can't stand jumping dogs, barking dogs, running dogs, big dogs, little dogs. No. No dogs. It doesn't matter if it's small, it doesn't matter if it's big. No dogs for me.

Friday, August 20, 2010

remembered I forgot

I just Love it when I remember things that I forgot. It's really my favorite. Maybe even one of my most favorite things ever... with the exception of frozen yogurt that is. But seriously, it truly is one of the most wonderful things ever in the whole wide world.

This is why I am just sooooo excited right now. So, remember how I was talking about how I am so capricious and how my life is like my grocery shopping? Well, if you don't you can read about it, I wrote it somewhere on here... a few weeks ago, or maybe a month ago. I can't remember. But it's here. Regardless... that is how my life works (with the exception of the three most important things ever to happen in my life: the hubs, "the" dress -you know, the white one-, and the house. I just knew when it came to those three things. It's true). Not that remembering things I've forgotten always has to do with me being capricious or anything. But sometimes it correlates.

So I'm in school, you know. I've talked about homework and how that's all I ever do and how completely and utterly dreadful it is (which is the truth) and how I said I would never go back to school in my whole long life (and now that's what I am going to spend the rest of my life doing). yay.

Note: Never say "never". Seriously though. Three things I have said never to:
1. I said I would Never live in this country hilly state I currently live in.
2. I said I would Never go back to school.
3. I said I would Never get rich. ...well, I'm not rich -yet. But do you see my ploy? I said that so it will Never happen, but if it works out like the rest of my Nevers... o yes. I will be loaded and will do all sorts of great things. It's true. I'll let you know in a couple of centuries how that last Never turns out. But really, all the things I have said Never to... they've happened. Therefore, I've learned to stop saying "Never."

So anyways... this is what I remembered I forgot. I was registering for classes this morning. My very last three classes Ever (that's not Never ; ) and I was typing in the codes, seeing what to take when... who taught what (not that I know any of the profs... but still, I look, it's a habit), and what days the classes I needed were on. Well. I entered in the first class info and I checked both terms to make sure I can take it. I entered the second class and I do the same. I entered the third class and I do the same. Fairly monotonous it may seem, but it's fun! It's like a puzzle I have to work! A small puzzle, thankfully, because I'm not very good at the 1,000 piece puzzles they have... even when I have to cheat and look at the picture. ...So, I write down the days and terms the classes are offered and as I'm looking at the last class I need to take I realize something. Not right away, but you know, I realize something. As I'm sitting staring at the only available time the class is offered (just one option for me to click on) my eyes wander over to the prof. who teaches the class. Dr. Card. I roll my eyes and think, "Oh brother, not her again. I just had her for a class just like this class last month!" Not that she's a bad teacher, on the contrary, she's really quite nice. However, this class also had the same course description of the other one I took with her. Huh. That's strange. I dig out the paper with all of the classes I've taken and scrutinize it carefully. "Ah Hah! I've Already taken this class!!!" Then I proceed to jump up and down and turn all around and fall on the ground. "Ha Ha Ha!!! I Don't have to take it!!! Ahh!!!" So wonderfully exciting!

You see, I had forgotten I had taken that class! Isn't is just wonderful when you remember things you forgot?! O, it is. It is.

Then... I found out the second juicy tidbit of information. Although, this bit wasn't something I remembered that I had forgotten. It was an altogether new surprise. As I was registering for my Two classes, I found one that was taught by Han So Lo, ok alright, I'm sure that would be pretty interesting to say the least. Or I could take it the next term with Mr. M. I opted for Mr. M, as I actually recognized his name, and had had him before for a class, and as he is pretty much one of the best profs. I've had since being back in school. So naturally I was excited he was teaching another class and signed up to take the one with him (after checking to make sure it wasn't the same one I had already taken with him that is. Which in some ways might have been even better to realize I had already taken that class because that would mean I would only have one more class to take, and one is much better than two) no offense to Han So Lo.

And now I am excited because I know that I am soooo close to being finished. I only have two more classes as opposed to the three I was dreading taking earlier this morning. Isn't it wonderful to remember what you forgot? ...unless of course it's a bad remembrance like when I forgot to...

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

crazy A students

I have just enough time before I have to leave to go get the hubs to calm myself down. Not that I'm in a hyper state or anything, it's just you know, nice to chill. I like it. A lot. Also, I've been freighting a lot about some things these days and I just really don't care for it. Things I've never freighted about before. know, I've never ever in all of my life been a straight A kind of student. Nope. Not me. My sister, yes, my brother, yes, my other sister, yes, my other brother, yes (at least that how it always seemed to me). Me, no. they just seem so smart and to do well in everything! They would always come home and their tests and papers would get plastered all over the refrigerators with big fat A+ all over them, no red pen marking up the paper, other than a smiley face and a note that said, "Great!". Not mine. No. Mine might make it to the fridge with a C+ and a "Keep Trying!" or "Great Improvement..." no smiley faces though, and about a ton of red ink weighing down the paper with places of where I did the wrong thing. ...and that was a good one for me. I was not the perfect learning student. No, not me. They were. I wasn't. I'm not bitter or anything. I only had to trade my life away for babysitting for my geometry teacher so I could get extra tutoring and help sessions. I'd go over early while his little baby girls would run around the apartment, their momma laughing and chasing them around. So happy. And I would be in tears at the kitchen table because I couldn't work the problem. Not so happy. However, I am very thankful for my very patient and kind Aussie teacher and that I had the privilege of going to such a great small school. But like I said, I'm not bitter.

Even though I would spend hours and hours and days and weeks trying to understand how to do some "simple" geometry problem (fyi: geometry is not simple) I didn't get it, it didn't click. But that's just the way it was. So, I was used to learning and studying and working my tail off and getting "C"s and such. My whole life I did this. I still do this now as a grad student. However, oddly enough I have done better with my class work now than I have ever done before. I'm not saying that to brag, I'm saying that because it makes me feel a lot more pressure than ever before. I feel like now that I have done so much better than I am used to doing, I have to keep it up, I have to maintain that. And now, just the other day I turned in this big fat research paper and lesson plan... and well, I'm just a little bit concerned for my grade. I want it to stay high, I want to keep the high marks I've never had before. Having these marks makes me feel like I'm learning and I'm smart and stuff. But then it also makes me freight about things I never used to freight about. o my. I need to stop. I am not a perfectionist. I'm not a straight A student. I don't need to be acting like one. least I'll pass my classes... I hope! I can see now why the straight A students were always so stressed out and worried about one little grade. ...that is not my personality, so I'm pretty sure this phase won't last long. Thankfully.

So anyway, I'm trying not to think about that stuff and instead think about the Praxis I have to take in a month. gross. No thank you. It's not very calming to think about that big fat long test that I just don't want to take. Nooooo. phooey. I'll stop thinking about it then.

So I'm here. where I get happy. Where I let myself go and say things I probably ought not. Where you get to see all of the little crazy and random thoughts in my head. Where I don't censor myself.

Anyhow. I am going to bake. I haven't baked anything in over two months. That is a record for me. I've been baking something pretty regularly since I was a wee little girl. That also makes me happy, baking, that is. I'm not sure what I'm going to bake, but I'm sure it will be tasty, if you come over I'd love to share some of whatever it is a bake with you. delightful.

Monday, August 16, 2010


I'm home now. My little white house was sitting waiting for me. The first day I was back I was starving and refused to leave the house. ...I didn't want to drive to the store. I hadn't driven in a year, so I was pretty terrified as you can very well imagine. Also, our car was covered in leaves and bugs, you could hardly see the top of the car, everything was piled around it so high. If you would have looked at where it was sitting you would have just thought, "Wow. What a big pile of leaves." You never would have even suspected a car under there. I did not want to mess with all of the bugs and leaves, so I just let it sit. I knew at some point I would have to pull out the hose and give it a through scrub, but I just wasn't having it that day, so I didn't. Also, because of the disaster state it was in I was really just frightened to even go near it. When I did finally venture near and open a door to get in, a swarm of crickets hopped out all over me. I ran away real quick like arms flailing every which way. Five hours later I went back hoping the crickets had left the car alone and not made another new home in the car. They did, but unfortunately I noticed a ton (literally, a ton) of bird crap caked on the car (literally, caked on, it was baked and fried and not about to move) but I didn't feel like even trying to get the bird crap off. I'm glad the crickets left, as I didn't feel like fighting the crickets, but I was prepared... with a bottle of hairspray. Cause, hairspray kills anything right?

...that's what I kept telling myself as I walked around the lonely house when the hubs was away. I walked real slow like, especially at night or as soon as I would get home... but most especially when you combine the two. With my arm straight out in front of me, bottle of hairspray in hand. Long metal pole in the other, ready to take a swing, phone in my pocket... I was ready for whatever (or whoever) might be lurking in the closet or under the bed or in the dryer. I got the continuous spray kind of hairspray too. That way my finger wouldn't get tired. I also didn't want the sprayer to get stuck like it sometimes does, you know? That's why I got the fancy one. All I have to do is pull the little trigger thingy and phoosh! there is a constant spray of breathtaking, eye burning fumes. It's really quite ingenious. It not only makes the invader choke and gag and cough and bend over for clean air, it also temporarily blinds them. My favorite part. This gives you the opportune time to wack 'em upside the head and on their back and arms and legs and any other spot that could make 'em hurt. Once you have sprayed and wacked the crap out of the intruder you have your chance to run out the front door, screaming and waving your bottle of hairspray and big metal pole in the air. You have enough time to make it to the neighbors house and hope and pray they are home. While you are pounding ferociously on their door yelling, "HELP ME! HELP ME!!!" you pull out your cell phone and punch 1 - speed dial for 911, obviously. As the neighbors come to their door you are spouting to the 911 person to come and help.

O, gracious, it is an exhausting experience. As you can very well imagine. It takes several years to recover from it. All I can say is I'm just glad the people that lived here before us left a random long metal pole in our bedroom and that I have a full bottle of hairspray.

The hubs said he's going to get me a guard dog, he's not fond of the metal pole/hairspray combination idea. I reassure him that it always works well when I play it out in my head. Though I will have to admit, I hope I never ever have to actually go through with it. Because that would be all the more terrifying and I'm pretty sure I would kill over dead from the mere shock of finding a stranger hiding behind the shower curtain (note: if you leave the shower curtain open, it is easier to spot an intruder... if they are hiding in the shower). Also, after I recovered I would need a second bottle of hairspray. I should add that to my grocery list. Also, it would be nice if you had the company of a teeth baring, mean growling dog on your side should an intruder ever interrupt you.

But now the hubs came back. He's home now. And it is nice. I don't have to carry around my bottle of hairspray and big metal pole when I go downstairs to get a drink of water in the morning or at night. It is rather tricky to be armed with a bottle of hairspray, a big long metal pole, and your phone.... and then get water while on full alert. There just aren't enough hands for that. Oh brother. However if you are surprised you do have the advantage of being able to throw a glass of ice water in someone's face, the ice hurting a little bit and possibly glass shattering all over their face as well, giving you more spray time. Genius.

It was very lovely to see him again. I went to the airport to pick him up one night, after sitting and working on homework for what seemed hours and hours and hours... I finally said, "phooey" slipped on my sandals and walked out the door. I didn't care if I got there early, I would rather sit and wait there than get there late. Or leave with just enough time to get there and somehow get lost along the way (I never plan for that, and somehow it always happens to me, getting lost that is). Also, I couldn't concentrate on the homeworks any more. I must have read the same sentence 72 times before I realized I had no idea what I just read and then after rereading it realizing I had already read that 74 times. Also, I would get distracted with other things ... you know, looking at pictures, tidying up a little, and such.

So I left. And got to the airport without getting lost (however, I did use the GPS the hubs got me for Christmas. I guess he was tired of me calling him in the middle of the day crying, "I don't know where I am!! How do I get home?"
and then him saying, "Well, where are you? Tell me and I can help."
"I don't know! That's why I'm calling!!!"
"Well, what's the name of the road you are on?"
"I don't know! There isn't a road sign right here! How do I get home?" and on and on this went. Poor Hubs. He is so sweet and patient. Thus the GPS for Christmas. for which I am very grateful. There have been no more teary frantic phone calls. Thank goodness too, especially when I went to pick him up because he wouldn't have been able to answer my call).
As soon as I got there the hubs texted me. he was there! Early! I'm so glad I left when I did! And now we are home sweet home together.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

or like....

The hubs sent me away yesterday. Not because he wanted to but because we are cheap and that is when we could get the very cheapest ticket. O my. So he is there and I am here. And we will see each other again one day. One day.

Until then, I carry on filling my days with homework (joy) and the usual, except not everything I usually do, or have been doing, like this. Which is sad. Because it makes me happy and calms me down, which is good, especially when I am here and he is there. So, I am calm once again.

Or like riding my wonderful trusty little bicycle around town (which by the way lasted quite well all of the two months I was there, thank you very much Negative Bike Shop Man. ....stop trying to take all my money! for Pete's sake!

Or like meeting the hubs every day for lunch and watching people in the little square and listening to Screaming Man (who's real name is actually Hezekiah!) and using my nose to tell me when Mr. Speedy is near (and his real name is Peter!).

Or like enjoying treats of frozen yogurt. sad. The hubs sent me a picture text the other day of his yummy filled bowl. wasn't that so sweet and thoughtful of him.

Or like swimming. We swam a bunch, and it was nice.

Or like just enjoying chatting with (or maybe I should say to) the hubs when he got home from work.

Ya. those are just some of the usual things I am no longer doing. And it is sad and unfortunate. Because I very much enjoyed all of the above mentioned.

Though, I suppose it wasn't going to last. And now I'm home and I have to be home now. will be good. I just wish the hubs would hurry up and get home. One day I will see him again. One day. yes. but until then...

Friday, August 6, 2010

not once

Looking at the drawers full of clothes I am getting ready to pack up any day now, I can't help but think how I wish I would have known then what I know now. Packing for two months is a task, as you well know by now. I did my best. I mean, moods change, weather changes, occasions change. You just can't tell what you will feel like wearing on June 17th or July 23rd. You just can't. You also can't know what the temperature will be like at the pier in San Fransisco or what it will be when you are adventuring in Yosemite. You just can't know these things. So you have to pack. Pack for all occasions, all possible outings, all weather, all dispositions.

So I did.

When I was busy scrambling and throwing (okay maybe not throwing, you might have figured by now that I can't really throw anything into a suitcase -unless of course it is dirty laundry, in which case I have no choice- I have to roll and stuff and smoosh and make it so tight not even a tiny tin of sardines would fit) my entire summer wardrobe into my suitcase earlier this summer I wish I would have told myself the following:

1. Your awesome camo skirt is nice and all, Cupcake, but does not allow room for bicycle riding. No. It does not. Not even a little bit. And you will be riding a bicycle every day. ...If it were an ankle length one, it could probably be pulled off, but not a knee length one, or even calf length (not that I have one of those) one. Nope. No. (Needless to say, I was only able to wear that skirt on days I did not ride my bike. Which was once. Once. Only one day I did not ride a bike. glad I brought that skirt.)

2. Same applies for jean skirt of same cut and length. (Worn: not once.)

c. You won't wear your favorite pretty white and pink and orange polka dot flowy skirt. You will be riding a bicycle everyday. That skirt is entirely too flowy and white, you will probably get it stuck in the bike chain, it will rip and ruin and you will no longer be able to wear your happy little skirt. Or the wind will flap it up in your face, you will be blinded and crash into the tree up ahead. Don't bring it. Or that will all happen at once: a bit of the fabric will get caught in the chain, tear, turn black, and another part of the skirt will fly up into your face blinding you and making you crash. As a result, not only would your favorite happy skirt be ruined, you would also have two broken legs, a broken arm, and a concussion. Not good. (Thankfully I was smart enough to envision the later of these scenarios happening - after we got here - and was smart enough to not wear the happy skirt, all summer long.)

3. You are probably going to wear the same eight t-shirts the whole summer. Don't bring lots of extras because you will not wear them. You especially won't wear the fancy ones. Even if you think you might wear them on a trip or a hott date, you won't. You will stick to the same five you wear every day. Make some space and leave the others at home. (but of course I have to bring extras, you never know what might go down).

4. You don't need to bring ten sweaters, it is summer after all. - In my defense, it was only a cardigan, a hoodie, and a wind jacket - You won't wear the wind breaker. (... how many times have I worn that wind jacket? Zero!)

f. You don't wear shorts. Don't take them. You know how it will go, you will take a dozen pairs, and wear one of them. And that's it. Don't take 23 pairs or shorts with you. You will not wear them. (It's true. I have only worn one pair of my beloved shorts. And they aren't even ones I brought with me. They are ones the hubs got for me after we got here. They are navy and wonderful and they go with every single one of my 40 shirts. That's all I need. So that's all I wear.)

8. You only need to pack ten shirts, your two comfy shirts and that's all. Know why? Cause that is all you will wear. It's true. You should really listen to me about this. Cause if you don't you will want to leave all of your clothes there and not bring any back with you. You will pull out one of your very favorite shirts, look at it and think, "huh. I haven't worn that all summer, I'll just leave it here." And you will!! Even though you will wear that shirt at home. O gracious.

You see, I have a problem. I don't know if I've told you about this one (I seem to have lots of these: problems that is), when I leave a place, I want to leave everything I have acquired while there. Shoes, socks, sheets, blankets, baskets, a magnet, clothes... everything. I try to leave it. Thankfully I have had friends in the past who have thrown some of the things they know I love and will need in the future back in the suitcase (or duffel, or box, or tub). For this I am thankful. Though if I catch them sneaking the item back into the bag I'm packing up I will yank it out and glare it and then them. I will then say, "I don't need this! It's only my most favorite cup (or shoes or book)," and I will promptly toss it into the "donate" mountain on my bed. It's true. After graduation, I left more at school than I took with me. I just don't like to lug it around. Plus, other people might need it more than me and I can replace it if I really want or need to.

I'm afraid this is starting to happen again. I am afraid I will come back with an empty suitcase. ...though, in reality, that probably won't happen cause the hubs will put it back into the suitcase and I will have to lug it all home. o. my.

Aren't you so glad to know the five things I have worn (or not worn) all summer? I'm sure you are and your life is now complete. yes.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

16 minutes

The hubs and I went to Target again. Unlike the first time we didn't get to enjoy a nice long leisurely stroll to get there. No. We took a bus. This is how it went: I called the bus people and asked if they could pick us up at such and such a time (you have to arrange pick up times you see) They said sure. I said, "Great! and can you pick up up 45 minutes after that?" The hubs doesn't care to walk around in a daze looking at everything like some of us do, but I won't name myself and give me away. So I was trying to keep the trip as short as possible. The bus people said, "No we can't pick you up then." ...So the time quickly went from planning on having 45-50 minutes at the store to 30 minutes. But, eh, 30 minutes is still plenty.

We went to the bus stop and waited ...forever! the bus wasn't coming. The bus was not there. The bus was late. Eight minutes late to be exact. You would think eight minutes wouldn't really matter all that much, but when you are going to be picked up at 1:30 and it is 12:57 and you aren't even at the store yet and it takes 13 minutes to get to the store, eight minutes is quite significant.

Needless to say I was not happy. I don't like to be rushed. I don't do rushed. I can't think or function well when rushed. It's really true. I can feel my skin getting tighter and tighter and my veins getting bigger and bigger. then pop. I go pop. Finally the bus shows up... eight minutes late. Do they realize they are cutting into our precious shopping time? Do they know they were supposed to be at the bus stop eight whole minutes ago?! For Pete's sake! I think not! I estimated how long it would really take to get all the groceries, and it was definitely longer than 18 minutes. great. just super.

We get to the store and have exactly 16 minutes to get in the store (which of course this bus driver drops us off at the furthest bus stop from the store) so it takes about an hour to get in the store. Ok. that might be an exaggeration... but still, the point remains: it took forever to get into the store to actually do the shopping. Hubs is booking it, he likes this pace. I on the other hand am panting behind him, trying to catch up. By the time I catch up with the hubs he has a cart half full of goods. O my. But! We have no time.... so we start zipping through the aisles. Hubs is throwing a gazillion things in the cart and I don't have enough time to throughly examine each item, decide we don't need it and put it back on the shelf. No. I don't We only have 9 minutes to finish and we aren't even half way through. I pick up a few things, bread, I know we need bread. I get one. Hubs throws in another. Gracious. I keep speed walking, trying to keep up with the hubs. Panting, heart racing, I can't see what we have in our cart. I can't tell how much crap there really is in there. No matter. We only have five more minutes. He's flying through the aisles, do we need this? Yes? That? Yes? This? No. Toss and throw. It all goes into the bottomless cart. Feet moving, head spinning, I can only see the boxes falling out of the cart and do my best to arrange it all so they will stay in.

At the register we throw everything on the nifty little moving belt thingy and start bagging everything up. Shoot. It's not all going to fit in our backpacks. We stuff and jam things into the bags, pay up and run out to the bus stop. Literally, we run out to the bus stop. Thankfully I have a cart to ride out so I can keep up with the hubs. On time. We are on time. Bags nearly falling out of the cart.

Funny. I thought there was supposed to be a bus... at the bus stop. At 1:30. There's no bus. And it's 1:30.

Really?! I mean, really? Is there seriously no bus? We rush and pant and panic and stuff and jab and jam and pull and ... there's no bus. So we wait. Again. At 1:33 there is still no bus. Those are precious minutes, I could have been putting something back on the shelf! Don't they realize this? Apparently not. After three hours of waiting and our milk going sour the bus comes. Finally. You know, we could have walked back home by the time the bus got there. Even totting our 101 bags. We could have made it. I'm sure of it. Once we're on the bus, the driver takes the longest way back. Are you serious?! Our milk is going to spoil! The cheese is going to melt. The ice cream will be soup. The frozen pizza will not be frozen.

But what can ya do? Nothing. But sit. And wait for her to take us back. What troubles. What troubles. After we get back (five hours later) we unpack what is left of our goods and put them all away. I hope we never have to do that again. I need more than 16 minutes to go grocery shopping for three weeks worth of food. Good gracious!


Also, I was right. I got to see the water fountain again in the morning. The hubs even stayed home a little later to see if he could see the crazy fountain. 40 minutes after he left the fountain was still spouting water. good gracious. I called the emergency maintenance number and told Manny (the maintenance man) all about it. He said he would fix it in the morning. I tried to convey the depth of the problem to him. "You see, it's been raining water for about an hour now. It's flooding both sides of the side walk. It shoots up above my window." I kept watching out the window all morning, but never saw anyone fix it. I left for lunch and it was still unfixed. Thankfully when I came back some one had stuck a new spout on the sprinkler. Manny saw me and told me he fixed it. This morning, there was no fountain, however, the sprinklers were still watering the cement side walks. Oh, I'll never understand. I try to help... but it's to no avail. I may as well give up.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Water Fountain

This morning there was a water fountain right outside my window. The fountain was so big it shot above my window. I live on the second floor. This is not good. Nope. I stand perplexed at first looking out the window, my mouth hanging open just a smidgen. Slowly I begin to walk over to the window and I look out. Sure enough there is a massive water fountain right outside my window.

I look down at the ground and see the gush of water shooting up into the air. I look at the side walk, the water is falling onto it like a heavy hail storm. Soon there is a big fat puddle of water. The small mound of dirt that is beside the sidewalk has flooded... in one minute. The little plants are wilting under the pressure of the water. Good thing the hubs left two minutes ago instead of one minute ago, 0therwise he would be one soaking wet person. It's true.

Looking down on the new fountain outside my window I can't help but think of how smart it is to water concrete slabs. Every morning, right after the hubs leaves the sprinklers come on. Every morning the sprinklers water the rocks and the cement sidewalk. Smart, huh? I suppose the tree that is near by might get some of the water, but it's only what the rocks and the sidewalk don't want. Poor tree. All he wants is his water and he's not even getting it. The stone is. And stones don't need water!

Obviously, this was all I thought about all morning long. Unfortunately I found more important things to do, like you know ... things of importance. Plus, I knew the water wasn't going to go off any more today, it only goes off at 7 in the morning, so obviously this wasn't an emergency. It could wait for me to go tell Mr. Maintenance. So I did my things of importance and went to have lunch with the hubs. I bumped into Mr. Maintenance on the way back and told him about the pretty fountain I saw. He seemed very concerned. But I haven't seen or heard anyone fix it yet, and I've been looking out that window all day long. Also, I have seen the broken bit of sprinkler laying beside the sea of mud. I don't think they fixed it. I think in the morning, I will see another fountain and another flood. o. my.

...You know, no one would have known if it hadn't been for me. Nope. No one would have found out. I guess you could call me a little hero for that. You know, I did the right thing and told someone about the fountain that isn't really supposed to be there. I didn't have to. You see, the neighbors keep their blinds closed... all day long, every single day. So they never would have even noticed. I don't know how one can stand being inside and having the blinds closed in the day time! Especially in the summer! Crazy! What about the pretty light and sunshine? They are missing out. ...hummm... maybe they are ... Vampires!! ah ha! I've figured them out! Of course! Why didn't I see it sooner?! ...they don't open them. Their blinds that is. Never. Not even once. Not even a little crack or peak. I can see their light and fan whizzing round and round on the ceiling through the tiny little crack between the blinds and the window. But that's it. Although, I suppose it could be a little awkward for them if they opened their blinds and saw me dancing and prancing about the house. I mean, I don't care who sees me, I wouldn't fall to the ground immediately, bang my head, get a concussion and have to go to the hospital or anything. No. I wouldn't do that. I'm a great dancer and most certainly am not ashamed of it. The hubs has even said that I would make a great Creative Dance Teacher. O. yes. That's right. Naturally this comment of his has only increased my dancing round the kitchen and living room. There's one song that is especially wonderful for dancing. I just love how happy it is. It Sends Me On My Way. So my new dream is to the be the creative dance teacher at a school. I'm hoping anyway. Hubs says, "You never know," then he chuckles to himself. What a sweet guy.