Sunday, June 18, 2017

Squirrel Tale

In our neighborhood, there's a squirrel that is missing part of its tail.  Instead of a long arching appendage, it has a short fluffy nubbin.

I wonder what its story is.
Was it attacked by a predator?  Did it get stuck in a trap? How did it manage to escape?

How has the squirrel's life been impacted?  It seems to be able to do everything other squirrels can do, but it can't swish its tail in warning like other squirrels can. 

Speaking of other squirrels, what do the other squirrels think?  Is the short-tailed squirrel a hero or a fool?  Is it looked upon as a survivor or as handicapped?

And how does the squirrel itself feel now?  Is it more cautious and twitchy than before, testing and inspecting  each new thing for its potential dangers?  Or is the squirrel more bold and fearless knowing it has survived once and can be victorious again?

These are my thoughts as I sip my Sunday morning beverage gazing at my backyard.

Monday, June 05, 2017


I do not have a problem with spiders.  I'm more likely to relocate a spider rather than crush it.
However, I have a problem with the conversation The Husband and I had at 4am today:

He: You'll be happy to know I killed the biggest spider I've ever seen in my life.  It was so big, I thought it was a mouse at first.

Me: No.  I am not happy to know that.

He: But it's dead.

Me: But it might have friends or family.
Where did you find this mouse-spider?

He: In the kitchen.

Me: Yeah, I won't be falling back asleep anymore this morning.

Sunday, June 04, 2017

The Ironic Makeup Applicator

Contents of travel kit:

1. Fold up toothbrush
2. Mini tube of toothpaste
3. Half dozen cotton swabs
4. Sample size makeup remover wipes
5. Sample size hair gel
6. Combo brush/mirror compact
7. Deoderant
8. Razor

I keep this travel kit stocked and stored in the linen closet so I can grab it at a moment's notice and rush out the door on an unplanned road trip, like the one I took last week to attend an uncle's funeral in Michigan. 

Each time I use the kit, I restock it and put it away for next time.  Sometimes, several months will go by before "next time" happens.
Like this time. 
I think the last time I restocked the travel kit was June 2016 when The Husband and I took an end of the semester celebration vacation.  So yeah, a full year.

Now, there are some items I don't put in the travel kit because I use them everyday. Things like my meds and my makeup I have to remember to pack in the same way I have to remember to pack extra pairs of underwear.

I remembered to pack everything before I left for Michigan this week.
However, I had forgotten that I'd recently washed the pressed powder makeup sponge that I'd been using. This sponge was still drying on my bathroom vanity in Wisconsin when I popped open the pressed powder in Michigan.
Well dang.

What to do.  Options:
1. Go without makeup
2. Use my fingers to apply the makeup
3. Rub the pressed powder container on my face
4. Find a substitute sponge-like item 

Option #4 was inside the 12-month-old travel kit.  Can you guess what it was?
Apparently, year old makeup remover wipes dry out if you don't seal the package completely.  When they do, they turn into sturdy,  lavender scented tissues.  And what do you know?  Fold one up enough times, it's the thickness of a makeup applicator sponge!

I was delighted and amused with this solution; I was able to apply my makeup... with makeup remover.

::takes bow::

Sunday, May 28, 2017

Two Word Movie Review - Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

Here are your two words:

"Father's Day"

Not a spoiler; I don't think it's a secret, and you won't be surprised anyway to find out that we meet Starlord's dad in Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2.

The theme of fatherhood is threaded through the entire movie all the way to the very last bonus scene at the end of the credits.  (Not that bonus scene, the next one.  No no, not that one either, the next one.  Listen, just stay in your seat until the house lights come up and the muzak comes on in the theater, 'k?)

Take your dad to this movie.
Take your old-enough-to-watch-it kids to this movie.
Go on Father's Day if it's still in a theater near you.

(The planets aligned in the Ack!Thbbbt! universe, and even though we did not plan it, both boys were able to join The Husband and me at this viewing.  It was nice.  And when I realized the fatherhood theme was a thing and shouted it outloud in the theater, none of my family members hid in shame refusing to admit they were related to me.  Instead, their eyes lit up and they agreed with my assessment.)

The good news is this sequel is unique in that it does not suck like most sequels do.
The humor and the character development hold up just as well in Volume 2 as they did in the original.  The sound track rocks as hard as the first, also.  I had no idea those 70's hits I grew up with were ever this kickass.
You will probably enjoy this movie more if you've seen Volume 1; you kind of need to know the characters and what they mean to each other to really appreciate the relationship dynamics.

This was a fine follow up to the first Guardians of the Galaxy.  I recommend it highly.

Read more Two Word Movie Reviews.
Read about the review author.

Thursday, May 04, 2017

Brain. Drain.

The bathroom sink leaks.
The Husband duct taped key pipe points to tide us over until he has time to do a proper fix over the weekend.
Until then, there's a bucket under the sink to catch water.

After brushing my teeth, I heard drips hitting what was starting to sound like a deep collection of water.
So I pulled out the bucket to empty it.

I dumped it... in the sink.

See.  This is why it took me three years to complete my junior year of college.

Wednesday, May 03, 2017

Did I happen to mention... much I hate group projects?

Everyone in my group graduates next week, so their level of caring what grade we get on our final project is zero.

Just crash my grade point into the ground on your way out the door, why dontcha?


I'm so sorry.
This blog used to be much funnier.
But I swear people used to suck much less.

Sunday, April 30, 2017

That's What She Sowed

The Husband was reviewing the progress of his plants on the seed-starting table when we had this exchange:

He:  I need to thin my melons...
Me:  That's... what *she* said?
He:  ...or put them in a bigger container.
Me:  THAT's what SHE said!

Thursday, April 27, 2017

The One with Mom and Dad

I want to remember this one.

I am dreaming.
I am at the home where I grew up.  There is smoke in the distance.  It is somewhere downtown.  I walk there.  By the time I arrive at the scene of the fire, my dad is with me.
The sign on the burning building is "Bait and Tackle".  I want to take a picture and post it on Facebook so everyone else who can see the smoke will know what is on fire.
But I don't have my phone.  I think I left it at home.
I tell my dad that I have to go home and get my phone.  He doesn't hesitate; he's seen all he came to see, and he comes with me.
As we walk home, we are talking.  On the way, I realize Mom is walking silently just behind Dad's shoulder.  Walking with us as if she had come along to see what the smoke was and now that she has seen it, she is content to just be with us.
"Dad, Mom is here!" I bubble at him.  Then I remember Mom has died.  "You can see Mom, can't you?"
He can't.  He asks me what she looks like.
I turn to look at her.  I see she is happy and young, and I can't wait to tell Dad that her hair hasn't even turned gray yet.
Before I can tell him, though, I remember Dad has also died and realize that this visit with Dad has also been only a dream. 

As the dream fades into the next one, I hear someone laughing a wonderful, sincerely happy, full laugh.  The air fills with many voices laughing, and I realize the first person who had laughed had been me.

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Renewed for Another Season

The Husband is catching up on a few seasons of The Walking Dead.
As usual, I've been paying only enough attention to what he's watching to know what the show is.  So, when I do stop and focus on a scene or two, I make snap judgements that may or may not be relevant to the story line.

Yeah, I yell at the screen and try to tell characters what to do.
But of course they don't do it.

After several outbursts (which The Husband patiently and quietly endures), I turn to this man of mine and blurt, "If this was happening to you and me, things would turn out differently."

He considers for a moment my inability to climb a flight of stairs without panting and his own reluctance to shoot me in the head if I were to "go zombie", and he says, "Honey, I'm not sure we'd last six seasons."
"Baby," I tell him, "so far, we've lasted 25 seasons."

He smiles and gives me a BIG hug.

Happy Anniversary to us!
25 years, baby!

Thursday, April 06, 2017


I told you about the awesome library job I really, really wanted. 
They were under a time crunch to fill the position, so I knew that if I didn't hear from them on the following Monday or Tuesday, I didn't get it.

I didn't hear from them on Monday or Tuesday.  Or Wednesday.
Or Thursday or Friday.
You and I both know I didn't get it.  But some stupid, tiny part of me still held onto hope even though I knew better.

The part of me that knew better mourned my loss over the weekend, and by Monday, I had convinced myself that I was okay keeping the job I already had.  It's not a bad job; it's just a dead end job that's not completely fulfilling.  But it's not bad.  (Work with me, I'm trying to deal with the cards I've been dealt.)

The day I should have been handing in my two weeks' notice, a co-worker in my department handed in hers.
Seriously?  She gets to leave, but I don't?
(No, she did not get the job I had applied for, but for a horrifying moment, I was afraid she had.)

Fast forward to yesterday.
I had just started again to convince myself again that I was okay keeping the job I already had.  Since my co-worker had handed in her two week's notice, our manager had announced he was restructuring the department, and my dead end, unfulfilling job would change a little bit, and it might just be interesting and a little challenging, and yeah, I might be just fine with keeping the job I had.
That's when another co-worker handed in her notice.
Sh!t.  Someone else gets to leave and I don't?  That's a punch to the gut. 

Jump to today.
A third co-worker in my department handed in his notice.
Everyone gets to leave but me?

Then, and only just THEN, I received my official, impersonal, "thanks, but no thanks" form letter email from the library making it official that

I struggled to make it through the day without crying in front of anyone.
I failed.

And about 15 minutes ago a cousin messaged me to let me know an aunt of ours died.

If you need me, I'll be the huddled mass on the couch hugging a blanket and a bottle of whatever adult beverage The Husband has stored where I can reach it.

Oh, and hey.
The United States just dropped bombs on Syria .
So fnck me for whining about my petty problems, right?