Archive for May, 2008

Sacratomato Soup


2008
05.31

Let me tell you, when you’re sick and have an ache-level that is measured by the degrees at which your spine is trying to rip free of your body it helps to have a spouse who is willing to run to the store to retrieve things for you. 

Sacratomato Soup

A reliable source has informed me that this soup contains both pixie dust and antibiotics which explains its ability to cure everything from a summer cold to an advanced case of Ebola. Last night I was prepared to give my left arm for this particular soup and my husband was prepared to sacrifice the rest of my body to shut me up. So he ran out and grabbed it for me and I pretended not to notice that he’d spiked it with NyQuil.

Such is the stuff our marriage is made of.

A Whole Month’s Worth of Photos


2008
05.29

I’m sick with something. I’m not sure what bug hit me but it’s chewing at my throat and making every muscle fiber in my body sore and achy. I’m pretty sure the damned thing is gunning for my sense of humor as well because I just puked on my husband’s side of the bed and I haven’t been able to muster the energy to properly savor that moment the way I should.

At any rate, I can barely sit up so I’m just going to post photos and try to come up with something to go along with them. Sound good?

Alright, here goes: 

Soap Saver

Ok, so let me explain; yesterday was our new housekeeper’s first day (yes, I am quite the spoiled bitch) and while I was taking a bath last night I noticed that not only did she manage to get the hard water stains out of the toilets and sinks, the woman made spotless our soap savers. 

I have no idea if she scrubbed them or soaked them or dipped them in a substance that will eventually eat my face off but who really cares, really so long as they look good. After seeing this I proceeded to throw the contents of my refrigerator on the floor before letting my children lick the tile clean. Just because I could.

This carving was a gift from a friend of mine who was gracious enough not to kick me out of her house when I ran rough-shod over her southern sensibilities:

Love of Learning

It’s called “Love of Learning”. Isn’t she adorable what with her books and no face? And totally unexpected since just two days prior I had the audacity to ask my southern girlfriend about her rib recipe which, apparently, is grounds for justifiable homicide where she’s from. Even when the southerner in question is a white woman who threw off enough of her old-fashioned southern upbringing to marry a black man.

Went to Tahoe the other day: 

Steps - Lake Tahoe

There was no real reason for the trip other than the fact I was about to kill and eat my offpsring if I spent one more day cooped up with them. In the end the pile of gold kugrands required to fill my gas tank was worth getting out of town for.

I helped out with a jog-a-thon at my kids’ school: 

Runners

Quite a few parents turned out, which was nice since it meant we didn’t have to jump through hoops for permission to beat students when they got out of line.

I finished up finals, but not before I snapped a few photos inside the Winchester Mystery Trailer: 

Infant Casket

You know what I love best about this photo? The fact that right next to the infant casket is a Costco-sized package of granola bars and a sign admonishing people to pay fifty cents before taking one.

I received straight A’s by the way. Not that anyone really cares, but I figure what’s the point of getting straight A’s if you can’t lord it over everyone? Oh, and there’s more funeral education photos here.

I’ve been growing stuff: 

Asiatic Lily

It’s large and loud and orange and therefore I am totally in love with it.

Ever see a wind farm?  

Wind Farm

This is a photo of the wind farm on the Altamont Pass taken during the drive between Sacramento and Santa Cruz.

A friend of mine made the trip up to Sacramento to participate in the Sac State Alumni recital:

Gary Playing Clarinet

He’s an incredibly talented musician and I can’t think of anything smart to say about him although trust me – I’ve really tried to come up with something. Since we grew up together I try to tread lightly since he’s the only one who can produce photographic evidence that I’m a total tard and not at all as cool as I try to portray myself on this blog. He leaves for Kansas next month to earn his doctorate.

…and since this post doesn’t have nearly enough photos to destroy the bandwidth of most of my readers, how about another photo of the Winchester Mystery Trailer?

Casket Wall 

Yup. That just about wraps it up. Sorry about the loading time.

Lil’ Sophie has an asshat for a daddy


2008
05.21

Just last weekend I walked out of my local Raley’s to find that my vehicle had been blocked in by someone driving a black Ford SUV. I didn’t think much of it until after I had spent an inordinate amount of time buckling my daughter into her car seat and loading my groceries into the back before jingling my keys in the direction of the offending SUV’s driver to indicate that yes! I am planning on, like, getting in my car and driving away now because that’s what we really good parkers do around here: we steer our vehicles into an available space and then? When we’re done shopping? We return to our vehicles and vacate the space for the next person.

Well, despite the availability of dozens of parking spaces Mr. Ford Driver was having difficulty grasping this simple concept. After several minutes of patiently waiting for him to notice my back-up lights at his passenger-side window he hadn’t budged an inch.

I was a little perturbed but managed to behave in a calm manner as I got out of my vehicle to point at it before making little finger-walking motions out of the space to indicate that yes, I did in fact want to leave now and would he please pick an actual parking spot and like, move?

I thought I had taken care of the problem. Surely one would move if – in the course of idling in the middle of a parking lot they had received indication that their car was blocking another? I jumped back into my car and patted myself on the back. After all, I had behaved with civility and managed to avoid murdering a “special” citizen.

Dude didn’t move.

I began to wonder why this guy hadn’t remained on the short bus where his people usually ride quite happily and in compliance with the vehicle code.

I got back out of the car and lifted my shoulders toward the guy in a slightly annoyed yet still family-friendly WTF? gesture. He responded with a gesture that involved his middle finger and was PG-13 at best. That’s when I noticed the dude was no taller than five-foot six.

I could take him easy.

So I went flying toward his car to have a word. I needed to get home and I was tired of this fop indulging his Little Man’s Complex on my time. Well, apparently the fop wasn’t too keen on consequences because, upon seeing six feet of blonde ferocity coming at him, the coward screeched away with a look of panic that indicated he knew he was about to have his ass kicked by a girl.

…and do you know what I saw? As his vehicle retreated? Several inches-high white lettering on the back window that read:

Lil’ Sophie’s Daycare

(916) 214-9960

Now, let’s forget for a moment that I see this vehicle every day at carpool or that these people’s kids and my kids go to school together or that we’re even neighbors. Let’s forget about the profound lack of class and intense stupidity required to treat people – particularly people in your own ‘hood – the way this guy did and focus, instead, on the fact that this moron took a car that acts as a rolling advertisement for a daycare and then behaved like a petulant brat in front of hundreds of people in a busy shopping center.

Good going Lil’ Sophie’s daddy. Did they teach you those skills in business school?

Darwin Made A Housecall…


2008
05.19

…but we didn’t answer the door. I’m in the middle of studying for finals and avoiding parenting my small child who, by the looks of things, has gotten her head stuck between the slats on the back of one of our dining room chairs for the third time this morning.

I suppose I should help her out but I find myself welling by parental pride because dude! My kid was capable of suspending the laws of physics long enough to push her honeydew-sized head through a space that only a softball was formerly capable of passing through! How cool is that?

Also, I’m thinking that – as a parent – it is by far better for me to let her figure out how to solve this issue on her own. You know, the day isn’t too far off that she’ll be off in the big world alone and what would happen if she goes off into it having not learned how to dislodge her head from impossibly tight spaces? I mean its not like she can expect me to come running should she get jammed into a copy machine or a dorm window.

Well, I suppose she could expect me to, but she’d be waiting a long time because when my children turn 18 I’m only paying for colleges that are a minimum of four time zones away.

So I think I’m just going to sit here and savor this precious moment and appreciate these days before my daughter has figured out how to dial up the fire department for assistance.

And for my next trick…


2008
05.17

As of Tuesday I will have completed my first semester in the funeral services program at ARC and I have to say that I have LOVED it. I love the course material, love the instructors, love my classmates.

In fact, the head in which I dwell is home to a big fat love-in and if there was a soldier holding a rifle around I’d put a flower in the end of it.

Whoa, hippie image overload. Forget I typed that. Shake. Erase. Start over.

Anyway. During the last little while I’ve discovered that I have the ability to absorb copious amounts of chemical equations and anatomical concepts without my brain liquefying in protest and leaking out my ears to stain my shirt.

What’s more is that I am finding I actually enjoy the science coursework. As in I really get a kick out of it. Like, I’m getting A’s and everything. Who’da thunk?

I could not be more confounded right now if the skies had opened up and the great forefinger of God himself were to point down as he boomed, “You, with the bad haircut! You’re not nearly as dim as you thought you were!”

…and caused the great ball of deathly black discouragement that has been “the sciences” all my life to morph into a subject area that I can grasp with some ease and holy crap! The notion that I might be capable of succeeding in an area more technical than Play-Doh would undoubtedly cause all of my ex-boyfriends and most of my extended family to have a collective aneurysm. But I digress.

To this end, my husband – the ever patient patron saint of Encouraging One’s Wife to Pursue Whatever Schizophrenic Path She Pleases – has suggested that upon completion of the funeral services program I leisurely pursue a BS at UC Davis.

So I think I’m going to do that. Maybe I’ll even pursue a masters. Why not? I may be 50 before I graduate but I figure I’m going to turn 50 someday anyway and I might as well do it with a degree in microbiology

At the end is an addendum to my Amazon Wish List


2008
05.09

I have a theory about political bloggers:

99% of all political bloggers are knee-jerk histrionics who have given as much critical consideration to their political ideals as the average person uses to select toilet paper.

As if the first one weren’t enough, I have a second theory about political bloggers:

Most of your Pavlovian political zealots – the ones who salivate at the mere mention of Hillary or Dubya - don’t give a wit about the political ideals that they claim to care so much about. Rather, the blogosphere seems to have attracted the latest generation of drama queens who have masked their need to be the properly outraged center of attention in the guise of being “principled”.

Translation for those of you who don’t speak Stephanese: most political bloggers act like hormonal fourteen-year-old girls on the hunt for something to cry over.

To be sure, there are definitely a few gems out there:

MW of DWSUWF is dedicated political blogger with whom I disagree on many points but who has – quite admirably in this environment - managed to keep a dispassionate and intelligent blog that is a joy to read.

- Another blogger whose political posting consists mainly of where the political meets the personal is James, who has a set large enough to regularly engage his readers in conversations about topics that make most people do that creepy rocking back-and-forth thing while holding their knees to their chest and sucking their thumb.

- Kevin and Kyle are two fellow Catholics who consistently post through the minefields of politics and faith with respect and class and – if I were them – are justifiably annoyed about now that their track record of taste and virtue has now been marred by an affiliation with this blog.

…and despite the fact that I’m forgetting a couple, my quest for intelligent life in the realm of political blogging has been a frustrating experience indeed.

Just for once I’d like to read a post by a liberal who concedes that an immigration free-for-all is a disastrous idea that encourages the cruel exploitation of people who enter this country without the benefit of being documented workers with requisite rights as human beings.

Similarly, I would do backflips if I could find a conservative who would concede that the human flow from Mexico consists mainly of folks who bust their ass doing jobs that we’ve become too silly and full of ourselves to dirty our hands with and not – as some would have you believe – seething hordes of brown people intent on bankrupting our welfare system.

I’d love to hear a rational and constitutionally sound argument devoid of ad hominem appeal supporting a continued ban on gay marriage.

(That last part was a joke because a constitutionally sound argument supporting a continued ban on gay marriage does not exist.)

I’d like, before I die, to hear my fellow Christians acknowledge the benefits afforded us by secular government.

I would positively faint if I ever heard an atheist admit that the U.S. is hardly a theocracy.

It would be nice if for once a political blogger could form an original thought instead of relying on jackass idealogues like Ann Coulter or Al Franken to do it for them.

On a personal note, I would really appreciate it if in the course of a political discussion people would use logic to argue with me based on the points I’ve made instead of a) throwing up their hands and invoking my home state as evidence that I’m some pinko-commie nutjob or b) using my Central Valley digs as proof that I’m some right wing extremist who’s only a small cache of weapons away from being the next Randy Weaver.

I’d also like for everyone I know in both the real and virtual worlds to conference and decide once and for all whether they’re going to brand me a conservative or a liberal because I’m sick of receiving political e-mail forwards and if there is any way to cut that crap in half I’d be mighty obliged.

G-Damned Stupid Carpool (bleep)’s


2008
05.07

Dear fellow stay-at-home moms who share the morning carpool lane with me,

Seriously ladies, WTF? I mean… you live in nice suburban homes with your perfect wardrobes tucked into perfect walk-in closets with perfect packing islands and perfectly trimmed lawns out front. You go on perfect little Hawaiian vacations, have perfect little jam sessions with your perfect little girlfriends about perfect little Oprah and are perfectly up-to-date on Us Weekly and People.

Everything about your life is perfect. Am I right or am I right? Ok, yeah I’m sure that things would be better if your BFF didn’t have her wedding ring upgraded with a diamond that’s twice the size of yours and probably cost a dozen tiny African children their limbs to extract from some dingey cave but hey, what’s life without a little adversity, right?

Is this not what you professed to envision your life being when you and your fellow shallow twits pored over back-issues of Brides magazines? When you strong-armed daddy into spending the GNP of Iceland on a Vera Wang gown and Tahitian honeymoon? Isn’t this what you wanted when you gleefully abandoned your half-assed attempt at majoring in Early Childhood Education because you finished your MRS degree early?

I mean holy crap ladies! Are you not living happily ever after with Mr. He-Doesn’t-Care-That-I-Can’t-Do-Long-Division-Or-Know-What-NAFTA-Stands-For-Because-I-Have-Big-Titties?

So how is it that you are so angry? How is it that every morning I see at least one of you wield a perfectly manicured middle finger at your fellow parents and their school-aged offspring? Why do you aim your Texas-sized SUV straight up my ass and careen through the parking lot at freeway speeds? Why do you blare your horn as if you’re in the middle of a crack and Starbuck’s bender? Why have you and your shallow legions of yuppie twits made it your personal mission to make the carpool experience as harrowing as life in the Eastern Congo?

Why do I get the impression that you’re trying to kill me? What did I ever do to you? Why can’t you focus your aggressions on your own offspring? Or small animals? Or environmentalists?

Why? Why? Why?

(And no, this open letter in no way indicates that I may have my own issues to overcome, why do you ask?)