HEY KIDS, WHAT DAY IS IT??

It's the day when every blogger blogs about what went on in their lives throughout the year.

Why?

Because it's the last day of the year, that's why!

But guess what?

CHICKEN BUTT!!!

That never gets old.

*I* am not going to do a 2011 retrospective because frankly, not a whole helluva lot went on during 2011 that merits reminiscing about.  I went to Lake Tahoe for a couple of days in August.  That's about it.

Because who lives an exciting life?

Not this gal.


And I'm okay with that.


Once upon a time, I did Fun and Exciting Things to ring in the New Year.

In 1983, I was dating a guy who was the singer in a rock band.  I KNOW, right?  Every girl should go out with a guy in a rock band at least once in their lives and then? Box checked.


Anyway, he had a house party gig on New Year's Eve and I was all excited, so excited in fact that I neglected to actually eat anything in the hours leading up to the party, where I would be starring in the role of "Lead Singer's Girlfriend."


And because it was New Year's Eve and I was the Lead Singer's Girlfriend, which was not as glamorous as it sounds, I was a-drinking and a-partying, all on an empty stomach.


So by the time midnight rolled around, guess who was rolling around in the bushes, puking her guts out?  Oh, I was a LOT of fun that night, lemme tell you.  And The Boyfriend?  Was NOT sympathetic.  Or concerned.  Or attentive.  But what he DID do, was find someone else to kiss at midnight, nice guy that he was.


New Year's Eve 1986 was a good one.  I went and saw the Grateful Dead play one of their famous/infamous New Year's Eve shows.  I went with my boyfriend, The DeadHead, and while the rest of the DeadHeads camped out in the local park, we roughed it at the Marriott in Berkeley.  


Surprisingly, I made it through the entire show without ever once indulging in the recreational chemicals that are plentiful at Dead concerts.  I don't remember why.


Since I've been married to TheManTheMyth, we've spent most of our NYE camping out in the desert with our motorcycle club.  For years, we would cook a gigantic prime rib for the everybody and drink martinis and champagne and set off fireworks, which would scare the crap out of everyone's dogs and there was always drama of some sort including the guy who rolled his truck 1/4 mile from camp and then spent the next few hours wandering through the desert in a daze like Moses if Moses had been drunk and rolled his truck, a few fistfights breaking out amongst long-time friends and guess who decided she's kind of done "celebrating" in that manner?


Which is why I'm saying Farewell 2011, Hello 2012 here at home with Thing 2 and Gracie Lou while TheManTheMyth and Thing 1 are carrying on tradition in the desert.


I will watch my beloved Anaheim Ducks probably get beaten by the Colorado Avalanche because the Ducks are sucking big time this year but I still love them. 

And I will wake up in 2012, without a hangover and I will think about what I can do to make 2012 a little more interesting than 2011 in a way that doesn't involve NHL players filing restraining orders.  Again.

PANDEMONIUM

Last week I went to IKEA to return something AND to stock up on bags of their Swedish Meatballs and Sauce Mix (because YUMMY!) and I figured while I was there, I really should look at their cookware because I was in serious need of a new frying pan and besides, there's always tons of swell stuff at IKEA along with Real Housewives of the OC all pushing strollers filled with screaming toddlers because, in case you didn't know, IKEA is the hot ticket to go for Mommy & Me outings because not only is there a little Drop-the-Rugrats-Off-Here-While-You-Shop daycare/play area, the cafe serves good food and dirt cheap prices and if I lived closer to an IKEA, I'd eat every meal there and wow this is one helluva long run-on sentence.

Deep breath.

So anyway, I'm browsing in the cookware section and there's all kinds of pots and pans and I finally choose a big-ass heavy duty frying pan, pay for it and haul it home.

You guys. It's the most awesome pan in the world.

Everything that I've cooked on it has come out perfect.

It's beautiful.

We're in love, my pan and I.

Or is it "my pan and me?"  Grammar police?  What say you?

Anyway.

I'm thinking of giving my pan a name because we have a Relationship going on now so what's a good name for it?

Oh.  Duh.  Peter.  Get it?  Peter PAN??


Work with me, people!

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Peter:

Isn't he GORGEOUS??

Yes, he weighs a ton and has to be washed by hand instead of just tossing him the dishwasher but I DON'T CARE, I LOVE HIM AND WE'RE GOING TO BE TOGETHER 4EVR!!

Kelly

+

Peter

4 EVr

And filed under "Weird Stuff" (not like me being in love with a frying pan is weird or anything), Thing 1 went to change the oil in Big Red and found this tied to the undercarriage:

There's only one obvious explanation for this:


MORE COWBELL!!

CONTAIN YOURSELF, WOMAN!!

Despite all evidence to the contrary (have you SEEN my office?), I have a "thing" for organizational stuff.  I buy books that tell me how to declutter and simplify my life.

Never mind that those books have become part of the clutter that has taken over my office, my Special Place, my Sanctuary.  Yeah, it's a mess but I LOVE my office.  Although I would love to shitcan my desk because it's huge and ugly massive and takes up way too much room because it's so huge and massive and ugly and it really doesn't have much storage which is why EVERYTHING ends up ON it instead of put away nice and neat IN it.

Anyway.

I love anything that helps you to Get Organized and today, I visited the Mecca of the Organizational World.

The Container Store.

Whose motto should be, "A Place for Everything and Everything in its Place and this is the Place to Get a Place for Everything!"

When I walked in, I thought I had died and gone to Organizational Heaven.


And, I think I gave a squeal AND a heavy sigh.


I walked up and down every. single. aisle and made sure I checked out the end-caps to see what sort of gadgetry called out to me and let me tell you, EVERYTHING called out to me.


I easily could have spent hundreds, no, THOUSANDS of dollars I don't have on stuff I'm positive I need to turn my office into a Thing of Organized Beauty.


Cabinets!  Bins!  Shelving!  Racks!  Holders!  Gadgets!


I wandered into the kitchen section and there were Cabinets!  Bins!  Shelving!  Racks!  Holders!  Gadgets that you didn't know even existed but you know you Must Have!


Everything to keep your kitchen all tidy and organized!


The Laundry/Utility Section!  Bins!  Cabinets!  Shelving!  Holders for mops, brooms, buckets!  Gadgets!!


Oh, it was Organizational overload!  There were bins to hold bins!  It was like the Matroyshka Dolls of storage!


I needed to contain myself (get it?  Who cracks herself up?  This gal!) before I exploded so I headed out the door.

But not before purchasing two items to help me in my organizational needs:  A rubber pet hair removal brush thingamajig (it works!) and lids for dog food cans.

Who's Miss Organized now?

Not this gal.

WHY?

1.  Why did I wake up feeling semi-okay despite an utter lack of sleep because TheManTheMyth kept smacking me because I was ALLEGEDLY snoring yet how can I be snoring if I wasn't even asleep and so I fought against sleep so that I wouldn't get smacked but now I have a raging headache and feel like total poo?  Oh.  Yeah.  LACK OF SLEEP.

2.  Why do people walk alongside their carts while at the supermarket instead of pushing them like normal people?  Do they not realize that they are taking up the entire aisle when they do this?  

3.  Why do people choose to go grocery shopping with the entire family and by "entire family" I mean Mom, Dad and multiple ill-behaved yard apes who are all having meltdowns because they want candy and Ding Dongs and Jolt Cola.  And these are also the people who walk alongside their carts.  The whole damn family.  Nobody pushes the cart.  They all hang on to the sides and mow down anyone in their way.

4.  Why is it I don't mind doing laundry but I hate folding it and putting it away?

5.  Why am I actually semi-excited for Christmas this year?  I'm usually of the "Bah Humbug" mind set.

6.  Why do I suck so badly at "Words With Friends?"

A DEEPLY PROFOUND KIND OF, WELL, PROFUNDITY. AND HOW KELLY GOT SCHOOLED AT THE DMV

Let me state right up front that when it comes to my religious/spiritual beliefs, I'm about as Christian as, well, Moses.  Or Pharaoh.

In other words, I'm NOT.  A Christian, that is.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

It's a Choice.  A Lifestyle, if you will.

Anyway.

Bible Thumpers annoy me.  I can't recall the last time a Muslim, Jew or Buddhist knocked on my door wanting to save my soul from eternal damnation. 

Because it's never happened.

Today, however, I had an experience at the Department of Motor Vehicles (of all places) that gave me pause.

For starters, every time I have to go to this particular DMV, I always, ALWAYS get lost.  I turn right off the freeway when I should have turned left, I turn left on the street where its located instead of turning right and by the time I figure out where I screwed up, I've taken the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

All I needed to do was renew the registration on my ATV, which expired back in 2004.  Yes, I'm a little late. My excuse is that I never received a renewal notice.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.


So the lovely Woman of Color is doing my paperwork and suddenly she leans forward and beckons me in like she's going to tell me a secret.


I lean in real close and she whispers, "Do you read the Bible?"  And I'm thinking, "Crap.  All I want is my OHV sticker and instead another well-meaning Bible Thumper wants to save my soul.  At the DMV.  Great, just great" but instead I just pleasantly say, "Some times." Which is not really a lie. 

She then tells me that there's a verse that says, "Be Still and Know that I am God" and I nod and smile and I don't say anything.


Then she tells me that when it gets all chaotic and crazy, which, at the DMV happens on a regular basis, she takes a deep breath and sits still for a moment and whispers that verse to herself.  Then, she said, she is reminded of a Greater Power and can continue to do her job without going postal.


I just continued to nod and smile and I took my items and wished her a wonderful Thanksgiving and started to toddle off when I stopped and turned back and said, "Thank you for sharing that."


And she just smiled and said, "Your welcome."


The whole way home (I didn't get lost LEAVING the DMV) I just kept hearing that lady whisper, "Be Still and Know that I am God."


And the lesson I learned today was that in times of chaos, just take a moment to be still and focus on a Positive.

This will come in handy during the chaotic holidays.


Class dismissed.

CHECK, 1, 2. CHECK, CHECK

TheManTheMyth is kicking his family out of the house over the Thanksgiving weekend.  We've all been told to find someplace else to go.

Why, you ask, and I just typed, "aks" and since when do I speak Ebonics?  

Anyhoo, the reason we have been asked to leave our place of residence is so that TMTM can re-finish our hardwood floors.  I have no idea where he is planning on sleeping unless he climbs in and out of the bedroom window.  Which is what he did the last time we refinished the floors several years ago.

Why are we refinishing our hardwood floors if we just did them a few years ago?  I'll tell you.

As I may have mentioned a time or two, we're remodeling the kitchen and dining room and the floor of the new section of the dining room is hardwood and the existing floors in the dining room, living room, entry and hallways have taken quite a beating and if we want everything to match, those areas all have to be redone.

So, there's your answer.

And now you're probably asking what refinishing hardwood floors have to do with the title of this post.

I'll tell you.

We have to move everything out of the dining room and living room and put them on our upper, covered patio and also in my office.  And in my never-ending attempts to de-clutter, I'm going through some old file cabinets so I toss that shit out.

And I found an old file box filled with bank statements and cancelled checks from the early 1990's.  And some from my days as a Spinster.

So I've been sitting here feeding checks and bank statements into my little desktop shredder and while I've been doing that, I've been taking a walk down memory lane.

It's been interesting to see checks written to department stores that are no longer in business:  May Company, Circuit City, Mervyns, The Broadway, MonkeyWard, Robinson's.  I bought records at the Wherehouse and Sam Goody.  There were regular checks made out to Crown Books and Waldenbooks.  I wrote my sister a check for $50.00 for Christmas.  The memo line on that was, "Merry Christmas, Darling!"  I purchased hosiery at Park Lane Hosiery.

I just now found a check made out to King Neptunes, which is a little seafood and bar joint.  A real dive.  I remember that night.  I went there after work to meet my sister and some friends and my sister impressed the bar crowd by putting her leg behind her head while fitting her fist in her mouth.  Some old seadog sitting nearby drunkenly asked her if she was single after that display of talent.

After my cash ran out and I still wanted to continue the shenanigans, I jokingly asked the bartender if I could cash a check and darned if he didn't say "Yes."  

Something else that I remember about that night.  The TV in the bar was on and everyone went silent when President George H. Bush came on and announced that "The Liberation of Kuwait has begun" which became known as "Desert Storm."


There are mortgage payments for our first house and our former vacation home on the Colorado River.  I also found a 17 year old check for $405.00 we got back from the escrow company when we sold the vacation house and for some reason, we never cashed it.  And that was at a time when we really were hurting for money.  I showed it to TheManTheMyth and he was all, "What the hell?"  How did we miss THAT?"


I found the final payment made on the very first car (truck, actually) I ever bought.  It was a 1985 Nissan pickup and all I could afford at the time was what was known as the Stripper Edition.  It basically came with a seat and a steering wheel.  No radio, no A/C, no power steering, no passenger mirror, no back bumper.  And I loved that truck.  Every birthday and Christmas, my family would buy something for it.  My grandma bought the stereo cassette player, my dad bought the back bumper and for my birthday the first year we were together, TheManTheMyth had A/C installed.  Seriously, that was the best material gift I've ever received.


And because shit happens this way, about 3 months after I made that final payment and had the pink slip in hand, my beloved truck was destroyed in a fire.  And to clarify, it didn't catch on fire; it was IN a fire.


Which is story in itself that I'll have to save for another time.


Among other things found in that file box o' bank statements are TMTM's divorce papers from his first marriage (I married a used husband, ladies).  I'm hanging on to those to remind him that he married Up.


I also found a 1971 Eisenhower Uncirculated Silver Dollar, still in its Official packaging.  That sucker is solid silver.  No idea what its worth is, though.  


My poor little shredder is getting so much use that the motor keeps overheating and I have to shut it down for 15 minute increments.


Okay, back to shredding.  And reminiscing.

DIARY OF A GIMPY KID. ACTUALLY, THE GIMPY KID'S MOM

So, Thing 1 survived his surgery on Wednesday.  But man, what a long-ass day!

He was originally scheduled for surgery at noon.  Then they told him to come in a 1:00pm.  And of course he can't eat or drink anything after midnight so by the time 1:00pm rolls around, he's ready to gnaw on his arm.

We check in, he gets all prepped and put in his cute little hospital gown, booties and a dapper chapeau:

He gets hooked up to his IV and then...we wait.  And wait.  And we wait some more.  At 3:00pm, he gets wheeled to the pre-op waiting area and talks with his doctor and the anesthesiologist.  He gets a shot of something and is off to LaLa Land.  Which was good because he was a nervous wreck this time.

FINALLY, at 4:00pm, which, if you do the math, is a whopping FOUR HOURS later than the original surgery time, they tell me to wave goodbye to my little boy and off he goes to surgery, to go Under the Knife.

By this time, I'M around ready to chew my arm off so I figure I'll walk somewhere (I didn't want to lose my parking spot) and get a bite to eat.  And I look in my wallet and there's a whole two bucks in there.  Which would be enough for a bottle of Two Buck Chuck (if I drank wine...which I don't) but not enough for a meal.  

Of course I would arrive at the hospital for my kid's surgery without any money.  Especially since I knew I would be there for hours.  So why bring money?  Especially since the cafeteria is right next to the lobby/waiting area and smells of food would waft out every time someone opened the door.

Which meant, if I wanted food, I had to go somewhere that took plastic.  Which narrowed my choice to MickeyD's.  Yay.

To make this day go even better, my phone decided to be a dick.  I could not get internet, even with the hospital's free WiFi, which meant I could not amuse myself on Facebook or even play Words With Friends (if anyone wants to play, I'm "Another Kelly" and I'm terrible at WWF so it'd be an easy win for you.  Just sayin').  After sending and receiving a couple of texts, the battery decided to roll over and play dead.  All in the space of about 3 hours.  Which is ANOTHER reason why I hate my phone and am counting the days until January 2, 2012 when I can upgrade.

Nothing like going off on a tangent about my stupid phone.  Again.

Back to Thing 1.

An hour and a half after he went Under the Knife, his doctor comes out and tells me everything went well, the screws and wire holding his kneecap together were removed and repairs were made to damaged cartilage and ligaments and someone would come and get me in about 45 minutes.

Waiting.  Waiting. Waiting.  Thank God I had my Kindle since I couldn't play WWF.  And in the time I sat waiting for someone to come and get me, I read 75% of a book before my eye began to twitch and the room, to pitch.

An hour and a half later, I went up to the desk and asked if I could see my kid.  He was finally brought in and we spent the next hour and half waiting for painkillers and also for him to pee because they wouldn't release him until he peed.  Both boxes were finally checked and he was wheeled out to the car.

By the time we got him in the car, the painkillers were in full effect and I believe his exact words were, "I'm higher than a kite."  And his next words were, "I think I'm gonna puke."

Yay.

I got him home without incident and put him to bed.

And to give you an idea of just how high he was, he invited his sister, Thing 2,  to sit and watch the Country Music Awards with him.

I know!!

And they kept up a conversation the whole time without a single, "No, I hate YOU!"

I know!!!

Of course, that sibling love faded as soon as the meds wore off and things were back to normal.

Well, as normal as it gets when your teenage son is literally crying because the pain in his knee was so bad and the painkillers had as much of an effect as baby aspirin?

So guess who had to call the doctor and get a new prescription for The Good Drugs?

And his doctor, bless his heart, included a prescription for a little something to keep the plumbing working, to keep things movin' and a-shakin', to make sure he doesn't plug up, if you get my drift.

And I'm sure he'd be just thrilled to know I included that part.

Thing 1 is ensconced in bed with his TV remote, his XBox 360, his iPod, his laptop, his cellphone AND a big empty jug.  And I'm sure he'd be just thrilled to know I mentioned that last item.

And with all that stuff at his fingertips, the hard part will now be getting him up and moving.  

And a-shakin'.

LIKE THE PEARL JAM SONG SAYS, "I'M STILL ALIVE."

It's been awhile since my last post and I'm sure my 1 or 2 followers have decided I'm never coming back and have transferred their blogging affections to someone else.

Well guess what, people?? I'm back.

There's been a lot of stuff going on and it's kind of taken precedence over having witty and pithy observations for your viewing/reading pleasure.

There's been some good things and some bad things that have kept me a bit preoccupied.

A beloved member of our racing community was brutally murdered last week and we're all still reeling from the shock.  


A few weeks earlier, we learned that a guy I worked with and who just did a job for us was THIS guy.  That was a bit of a shocker, too.


Let's see, what else?


Oh.  Thing 1 goes Under the Knife this afternoon for his knee.  They're taking out the screws and other flotsam and jetsam and he'll be Hopalong Cassidy for the next 6 to 8 weeks.  And driving us (read: ME) crazy.  I'm the lucky one who gets to sit in the hospital waiting room while he's sliced open.  The real fun part will be getting him into the car to bring him home and then getting him out of the car when we get home.  Then up the steps and into his bed.  And bets are on that Gracie Lou will run and jump right onto his knee in her excitement to see him.  Because that's what she does.  Just ask my sister.


The kitchen remodel is coming along.  TheManTheMyth is hard at work as we speak (okay, as I type this) building the island.  He's such a handy guy.  Useful as well as ornamental.


We picked out floor tile, which is supposed to arrive some time today.  The new hardwood section of the dining room is installed but doesn't have the finish on it.  One of these days, I WILL take a picture of how the kitchen looks so far.


A big decision was made this morning by TheManTheMyth and me.  The palm trees along our backyard fence will have to come down.  I know, I know.  But they've grown just a bit too big and one of them is on the verge of breaking the fence.  They just got too massive and we weren't expecting them to get THAT big.  The one on the left has a HUGE base and it's only going to get bigger so, they must go.

And yes, it's a clear, sunny day with winds so dry my skin is cracking and my sinuses are screaming.  Gotta love them Santa Ana winds.  However, our weather will change yet again, with rain coming our way in a couple of days.


In other, more serious news, was anyone shocked that Kim Kardashian's marriage didn't even make it 3 months?  No?  Didn't think so.  What a twit she is.  But what can you expect from someone who became famous because she was filmed letting some guy pee on her during sex.  


And is anyone shocked that Michelle Duggar and her clown car of a vagina is knocked up with Baby #20?  Because all the Duggar kids have names starting with the letter "J" I suggest that Duggar Baby #20 be named, "Jeez Louise."  Even if the baby is a boy.


And speaking of babies, I'm having a hard time believing that Justin Bieber is that gal's BabyDaddy.  But if she is, in fact, telling the truth and the Bieb IS the BabyDaddy, well, I, for one, will be shocked. And could I use any more commas in that sentence?


So that's what's going on in my world.  Now I have to take Gimpy the Kid to the hospital.  Wish us luck.

THE FACE IN THE WINDOW

I've written about the strange shenanigans we've experienced in our house.  For a while, my Grandma was making regular appearances.

Which is all well and good because this WAS/IS her house.  Except that she's been dead since 1995.

We've heard the footsteps in the middle of the night, walking from the kitchen to her bedroom, which is now Thing 1's bedroom.


We've heard voices.  I've seen Shadow People flitting by out of the corners of my eye.


Overnight guests have woken up in the middle of the night and have seen a figure standing in the kitchen.

Even my dead dog, Lucy, showed up, which I will admit made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. 


But it's been pretty quiet lately.  Unless you count the noise Thing 1 makes when he comes home in the wee small hours of the morning from wherever it is he's been.  


I mean, I KNOW where he's been and with whom; I'm just not allowed to say where and with whom.


WhatEVER.


ANYWAY.


Things had been quiet on the Paranormal Front.  Until we started our kitchen remodel, which is coming along nicely and someday I'll post pictures of the kitchen.  But don't hold your breath.


So, during our kitchen remodel, things turned up but nothing really unusual happened.

And then something Unusual Happened.


Something that scared the ever-lovin' crap out of me when I saw it for the first time.


I had walked into the kitchen and when I turned on the light, I saw It.  The Face in the Window.


But it was not someone on the front porch, staring in at me.


It was a Face.  In the window.  Not in front of the window.  IN the window.


And the Face was of someone screaming in terror.  Or horror.  I'm not sure which.


And when I saw The Face in the Window, I screamed too.  In terror.  AND horror.  And I may have peed a little.  But that might be because I really need to do my Kegel exercises.


But what was kind of weird about The Face in the Window was when I discovered you could not see it from outside and you couldn't see it when the kitchen light was off.


It could only be seen at night when the kitchen light was on.


I was not the only member of the family to see the Face in the Window.  We all saw it.


We wondered, what did it want?  What had terrified it so?  Was it trying to tell us something?  Did it not approve of our kitchen remodel?


You could only see The Face in the Window at night with the kitchen light on.


One night, I was able to capture the Face in the Window with my cellphone camera and am sharing it with you.


It's pretty scary and not for the Faint of Heart.  So don't say you've been warned.

Happy Halloween!

MY WHORES ARE MOANING AND MY MENS ARE O'PAUSING

You want to see my head spin around and pea soup shoot out of my mouth?  Ask me why I did something one way and not another way.

Or make a "funny" comment about my weight when I stepped on the cracked floorboard and it broke.  Which is a totally valid, "Your Honor, he needed killin'!" defense.

Or constantly interrupt me when I'm trying to say something and refuse to let me get to the point and then laugh when I explode in frustration.

And then say, "Why are you flipping out?"

Why?  I'LL EFFING TELL YOU WHY YOU %&*$@! LITTLE PECKERHEAD!!!!!

It's called "menopause," son, and your mother is suffering from it which means EVERYBODY in this here household suffers.

Be afraid.  Be very afraid.

Oh my God, this weekend was a barrel of laughs around here, let me tell you.


I have the patience of, well, not a Saint and my emotional state is about as stable as, well, pick any country in the Middle East and there ya have it.

Oh, I'm a joy to be around.


And then there's my hair.


My hair has gone circus-freak crazy.  Seriously.  It's got the texture and appearance of rusty steel wool and seems to have doubled in volume. 


If I use a flat iron, it looks like flattened steel wool.  If I blow dry it, it's BIG steel wool.  If I use a curling iron, it's curled steel wool.  I can't catch a break with my hair.


I supposed things could be worse; I could be having hot flashes but so far, I've been lucky to avoid them.


And I probably just jinxed myself.


Fuck.


FUCKITY FUCK FUCK!!!


Oh.  There I go again.

EVERYTHING AND THE KITCHEN SINK

Things have been a little chaotic here at Chez Kvetch, which is one of the reasons I haven't posted anything in a day or two.  Or six.  Whatever.

The kitchen remodel is coming along.  I can't say that's it's coming along nicely because once again, I do not have a working kitchen.  And it sucks.

Last week, TheManTheMyth started working on the section where the sink was located.  Key word: WAS.

The dishwasher was removed and is now blocking the new finished pantry and I cannot show you how fabulous it looks because there's a dishwasher blocking it.  However, you CAN see the finished upper cabinets in the above photo.

Anyhoo.

As TheManTheMyth removed the dishwasher (and used it to block access to the pantry), whatever was holding the sink in place gave out and the oh-so heavy (and ugly) cast iron sink came crashing down and lemme tell you, that's one helluva loud sound.  The whole house shook.

So TMTM drags the old sink out and proceeds to remove the cabinet.  Which will have to be completely rebuilt because it was pretty rotted out.  Goody.  This will delay our progress.  But it's okay because on Friday, we realized we had completely forgotten to order the new sink to go into the new sink cabinet.  The new sink will arrive in about 10 days.

As TMTM removed the old cabinet, a couple of things were discovered:  The floor under the sink cabinet and dishwasher were pretty much rotten due to plumbing leaks

and so that section of floor had to be torn out

and the plumbing had to be completely redone.  We also found a swell rat's nest under the cabinet:

but luckily, the occupant was not present.  And we found access holes in the walls from when the old plumbing was done and the plumber didn't bother to fill in the holes thus giving the little rat-bastards easy access.  Fuckers.


So currently, my dishwasher is blocking my pantry, the refrigerator is sitting in the middle of the room, I don't have a sink and have to wash dishes in the bathroom sink, there's tools and assorted flotsam and jetsam covering my dining room table and it's just such a mess I can't stand it.  I also no longer have countertops.


But on the bright side, my fabulous new stove was delivered on Friday but since we can't install it at this time (and God only knows WHEN it can be installed) it just sits in the middle of the floor and has become another flat surface to pile crap on:

Unable to cook, unable to wash dishes, unable to get into my gorgeous new pantry.

Just another day in Paradise.
 

SOME EARTH SHATTERING OBSERVATIONS

1.  Why are bargain-brand, no-name loaves of bread already stale the moment you buy them, even if they've just been delivered?  For the record, *I* don't purchase these loaves of bread (see first sentence) but TheManTheMyth does when he and Thing 1 head out to the races and of course they eat a grand total of 4 slices (2 sandwiches total) which means they bring back an almost full loaf of stale bread.  I feel guilty if I toss it because it's such a waste and I feel guilty if I take it to the park to feed the squirrels, ducks and geese because there's all these signs BEGGING you not to feed the wildlife even though the squirrels, ducks and geese at my local park haven't had to forage for food in decades.  They get 3 hots and a cot from the local senior citizens who deliver meals twice a day and no, I'm not kidding.  So if I were to take my stale loaf of bread to the park, it would probably be laughed at by the squirrels and fowl who are used to much better vittles than the stale loaf of bargain bread I'd be flinging at them.  Yeah, it's a tough life for critters at El Dorado Regional Park.

2.  In this day and age, just about every car manufacturer offers various models of hybrids.  You can get hybrid SUV's, hybrid luxury sedans, hybrid compact cars.  Yet out of all the hybrids out there, only one model seems to cause its driver to drive in a manner all but guaranteed to annoy, irritate and pretty much piss off everyone else who encounters one on the road.

I'm talking about the Prius.  Or, as my friend Sandy pronounces it, the "PrEYEus."  Because Sandy is a card.  A Joker.

I'll be driving along and all of a sudden, traffic slows waaaay down and cars start swerving into the next lane and then back with hand gestures a-flailing and lo and behold, the reason becomes clear:  Someone in a Prius is driving along, under the speed limit, usually in the fast lane or carpool lane and completely unconcerned that they're causing a bottleneck.  They don't care, they don't have to.  They drive a Prius.

You don't see the drivers of Altima Hybrids or Ford Fusion hybrids or even Camry hybrids driving like geriatrics with cataracts.  No, they drive like NORMAL people even though they're driving hybrids.  So what's the deal, Prius drivers?  Huh?  Huh?

3.  My internet connection has decided to play hard-to-get over the last couple of days.  One minute I'll be happily web surfing away and the next, there's no connection and my networks isn't even listed on the little icon thingamajig up at the top of my screen.

4.  "I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really, want!  So, tell me what you want, what you really, really want!  I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want!  So tell me what you want, what you really, really want!"  

Yes, folks, I've got "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls stuck in my head.  Special thanks go out to Thing 2 for planting that seed.  She'll pay for that.

Yes, I downloaded it to my iTunes.

Yes, I'm ashamed that I did.

5.  I don't know what it is about hardware stores but I seriously can spend HOURS in them.  Not so much the Home Depots and Lowe's but the Harbor Freight, Ace and True Value stores.  There are so many gadgets and jing-tinglers and all sorts of fun things to see.  I had to go to my local hardware store this morning to buy 6 dozen screws (I ended up just buying a box of 100.  It was cheaper that way) and if TheManTheMyth hadn't needed them RIGHT NOW, I'd probably still be there browsing to my heart's content.  

I was at Harbor Freight the other day and I swear I was the youngest person in there.  Octogenarian men as far as the eye could see.  Well, MY eye.  I don't think the oldsters could see all that good.  They kept asking me to read stuff to them.  "Young lady, can you tell me what it says on this drill box?"  "Um, that's a stapler."  "What?  What's that you say?  A stapler?  I don't need a dad-gum stapler!  Where are the drills?"


Gotta love 'em.


And then I watched as they got into their Delta 88s, Buick Park Avenues or Chrysler New Yorkers and drove off, sideswiping a slow-moving Prius.


Of course.


Gotta love 'em.

YOU LIGHT UP MY LIFE

This past weekend, I was finally able to get my hands on something I have wanted, nay, coveted for a long time and now, it's finally mine, Mine, ALL MINE!!!!

It all started a couple of years ago in Palm Springs.


My Brother in law and I decided to check out an estate sale near the house.  However, this estate sale was pretty much a bust.  Unless you were looking for old Corelle dishes and 8 track tapes of Vicki Carr.


There was really nothing of value until we went into the bedroom and saw It.


We stood there, completely enthralled and I said, "You HAVE to buy it, it's THAT awesome!"


We arrived back at the house with our fabulous purchase and presented it with a flourish.


We knew we had found something really, really special and Our Find was placed in the living room for all to admire.


But instead of accolades over our fabulous find, we heard things such as, "Are you out of your freakin' mind?" and "You have got to be kidding" and "This is a joke, right?"


We were stunned.


How could everyone overlook the spectacular awesomeness of our purchase?


How could they say it was hideous and Must Go?

BIL and I defended Our Find and tried to convince everyone that this was a Great Thing.


But they laughed at us.


Finally, my sister rolled her eyes and allowed Our Find to be placed in the Living Room for all to see and comment on.


And comment they did.


And not in a good way.


But for about a year, Our Find was  present in the living room and then one day, it was quietly replaced by something less "stylish" and awesome.  Our Find was banished to the garage and there it sat, unloved and neglected and slowly covered in a layer of dust.


And every time we went to Palm Springs, BIL and I would lament about our poor unloved and unwanted Find and how nobody appreciated its awesomeness and its beauty.


I couldn't stand the thought of that magnificent object being so neglected so finally I offered to take it off their hands and give it the loving home it so richly deserved.


My sister couldn't hand it over fast enough.

I brought it home, cleaned off the layers of dust it had acquired from its banishment and placed it in its new home.

The reactions of my family were varied.

TheManTheMyth stared, shook his head and headed out to the garage to continue refinishing the kitchen cabinets.


Thing 1 laughed and said, "You are such a Gypsy!"


Thing 2 walked in, stopped and stared in disbelief.  "WHAT is that...that...THING doing here?" she asked.  "Isn't that supposed to be in Palm Springs?  WHY IS IT HERE??"


I ignored them all.


Nobody, except for my BIL, "gets" how fabulous Our Find is.  They just don't understand.


Once I finished cleaning the layers of dust off and polishing the parts that needed polishing, I flipped the switch and stood back and admired:

How awesome is that lamp?  Is it not the most gaudiest thing?  And that's what makes it so fabulous!  It's just so over the top and big and just so...so...BAD!

Look at those prisms!!

And the pineapple leaves they're attached to.  The fringed lampshade. The cut glass bowl.  


The incredibly ornate base.

Not only is this lamp huge AND hugely over-the-top, it weighs a ton, too. 


And is completely out of place in any room with the exception of the boudoir of a flamboyant gay man.


Liberace would have loved it.


And I love it, too.


Because it makes me laugh my fool head off.


And if you can't laugh at yourself, trust me, there are plenty of others who will.

Dude, Where's My Show?

I had a totally different post for today but after watching last night's episode of what used to be one of my favorite shows, well, the original post will have to wait another day.

Because I HAVE to talk about the "new" Two and a Half Men."


I'm not saying the new version is bad but I would have walked out of last night's episode on an airplane.

THAT'S how bad it was.

Ashton Kutcher's character, "Waldon (Walden?) Schmidt" should have been named "Michael Jesse Kelso" since he's basically rehashing his character Kelso from "That 70's Show" and Jesse from the critically acclaimed, "Dude, Where's My Car?"

In other words, he's playing a dimwit dufus.


And I guess Angus T. Jones, who plays Jake Harper, has been put on recurring status since his entire appearance consisted of a 5 second scene and two words, "Hello?  Dad?"  


And on one hand, I wondered how a father could completely move out and forget his own son but on the other hand, my parents had a habit of driving off and forgetting to take me from the time I was an infant until I graduated from High School so I guess that's not all that far-fetched.


Another issue of bad writing/casting is seeing Walden's (Waldon's?) wife Bridget played by the same actress who played Herb's sister Myra, who Charlie dallied with when she came out for Judith & Herb's wedding. 


The show went downhill right after Charlie Sheen's marital meltdown and he pretty much just phoned in his performances, leaving Jon Cryer to carry the show with ridiculous slapstick antics.


I can see in the episodes to come, Waldon (Walden?) will continue to make childish attempts to reconcile with Aunt Myra, I mean his wife Bridget, and sleeping with a bevy of beauties in between reconciliation attempts.


On one hand, I should be curious where Alan will be sleeping now that Berta has moved in as live-in housekeeper but on the other hand, it's just not worth it to care in more.


I know I can't be the only one who expects a future episode to include a leather jacket, a pair of waterskis, a ramp and a shark to be jumped over. 
Am I right?

I'm right and you know it.

Out With the Old, In With the New(er)

When Thing 1 turned 16, he received his Inheritance from his paternal Grandfather, The Red Rocket

A 1990 (which makes it older than Thing 1) Chevy 3/4 ton 4x4 pick up truck (duh, it's pretty obvious from the photo) that sucks gas like a crack whore sucks...well, let's just say it gets REALLY lousy gas mileage.  We're talking single digits for City MPG and very low teens for Highway MPG.  And the A/C doesn't work.

But the truck was free and the insurance is cheap since Thing 1 maintains a 3.0 GPA and we only got Liability Insurance.  Which I have to remind Thing 1 whenever he talks about going "Barging" and "Mobbing" in the Rocket.

The Rocket became something of a Legend in these here parts of the woods.  People have even shown up in the middle of the night to lovingly "gift wrap" the Rocket as a gesture of affection:

 But for some time, we've been wanting to get something that is a little more reliable and gets better gas mileage but since the money tree in the backyard is just not blooming, it's been a moot point.


Until yesterday.


Meet the New Red Rocket, or Red Rocket 2.0 as we like to call it:

It's a 1994 Dodge Ram 2500 with the Cummins Diesel.  Which means it'll last forever AND gets twice the mileage as the Old Red Rocket.  It was owned by a diesel mechanic who was meticulous about mechanical maintenance (say that 3 times fast) and kept very detailed records.


The best thing about it, other than the fact that my car will NOT need a trailer hitch, was the dirt cheap price.  When Thing 1's Best Crony (and our Favorite) told us about the truck and the asking price, we kept saying, "What's the catch?"  Other than some minor cosmetic issues and a lack of a stereo in it, there was no catch.  The seller needed the money (divorce).


There was no way we could pass it up.  And the seller even knocked $100 off the already ridiculously low price because of the missing stereo.


We're all excited about the new Red Rocket.  Thing 1 because it has working A/C and now he can legitimately hang with "The Cummins Crew" as many of his cronies all have the same truck.  TheManTheMyth is happy because he now has a back up reliable work truck and a new desert mobile and I'm beyond thrilled because my new car will not need to have a hitch put on it so the guys can hitch up a small motorcycle trailer and take that to their races instead of driving The Big Truck or the Old Red Rocket.   Thing 2, well, she just shrugged as said, "Whatever" and disappeared back into The Cave.


We asked Thing 2 if she wanted Red Rocket 1.0 for herself but she just looked at us and said, "Uh, NO."  


So, Red Rocket 1.0 is For Sale.  $2500.00.  Spread the word.  Tell your friends.

Flea Market Fun

Yes, folks, it's that time once again where I spent a Sunday at the Long Beach Antique Flea Market (held the 3rd Sunday each month), which is ALWAYS good for blog fodder.

This time, I went with my faithful reader (but rare commenter) and sidekick, Queen Stella.  Or, as I like to call her, "Bubbles."

For reasons beyond me, every time I go to the Flea Market, it doesn't matter if the weather forecast calls for blizzards and sub-zero temps, as soon as I walk through the gates at the Flea Market, it's blazing hot and temps reach "Swelter" range and yesterday was no exception.

One of the things I enjoy about the Flea Market is all the interesting items people are selling.

When I saw this, my first response was "What. The. Fuck?" and my second response was to whip out my phone and take a picture:

Seriously, this was some sick shit right here.  A limbless mannequin that had the nipples cut off and was gutted to show an assortment of fishing lures inside.

Oh. My. God.  I just took a closer look at that photo and the tits of this thing were NOT cut off but were made into open-mouth fish.  See the eyes?

Dude.  What. The. Fuck?

Okay, I'm even more creeped out now than I was when I saw it yesterday.  

Cute little plaid cooler for a stand, though.

Moving along, I saw a swell bed.  Sheet metal flames.

Handcuffs not included.

Several times, we saw dolls for sale and since dolls are one of the things that gives Bubbles a serious case of the creeps and since I am a caring friend, I made sure to point the dolls out to her and then use my Exorcist voice to further irritate her.  "Stella.  Look at me.  Look into my creepy doll eyes.  LOOK AT ME!!!!!"

Yeah, I'm a riot.

And then there was the picture of Mae West that someone tried to 3D by adding feathers and stuff.

Loverly.

If any of you read The Bloggess (and if you don't, you're missing out on some real genius), then you know about Beyonce and I don't mean the singer.  Go read it RIGHT NOW so you'll understand.

Someone was selling a Beyonce!!!  Unfortunately, they wanted $250, otherwise I'd have my very own Beyonce knocking on MY front door.

Unfortunately, also, I didn't take a picture of Flea Market Beyonce.

I also didn't take a picture of the one thing I wanted more than anything else I saw at the Flea Market.

It was a wrought iron full size cart that had a surrey-type of roof and it had wheels and everything about it screamed, "GYPSY CART!!!" and I wanted it so effing bad.  As Bubbles said, it could be blinged out with crystals and ribbons and jing-tinglers and it would have looked PERFECT in my backyard and there was just one problem.  Okay, two problems:  

1) It was $325.00 although the vendor said they would entertain any and all offers but I figured offering them $75 would be just a bit insulting and I was not going to pay a penny more because, well, that's all I had.

2) It was a full size cart, about the size of a street vendor hot dog cart and my car is a Chevy Cruze so getting it home had they accepted my $75 offer would have been a bit of a challenge.

So no Gypsy Cart for me and I'm STILL upset about it.  I told TheManTheMyth about it and he did ask how much but shook his head when I told him the price.  But I bet he would have been okay if it was $75.  If that vendor and cart are still there next month, I just might have to do some wheeling and dealing.  Because I WANT THAT CART!

All righty then.

We also saw a plant vendor who had a cute and unique method of displaying his plants:

A swingset for plants!  These particular plants were in these ginormous snail shells (ewww) but how cute would a swingset for plants look in your backyard?  WAY cute is what I'm saying.

While Bubbles and I were walking along, I was telling her about a vendor that I used to see every month.  This particular vendor specialized in, how shall I say, "funeraria."  I don't know if that's even a word but he sold all sorts of funeral-related items.  Including old caskets.  But Funerary Vendor hasn't been around in a couple of years.

And as I'm telling her about this, we both stopped dead in our tracks (no pun intended) and I'm all, "Do you see what I see?"  And she's all, "Uh, yeah" and I'm all, "No way!" and she's all "Way!"

And of course we have to hightail it over because how often do you see THIS at the Flea Market:

I KNOW!!!  Hockey sticks!!!  AND a crosscut saw!


I made a whole two purchases:

This will go in my backyard and be decorative.  Or something.

My other purchase was one of those folding old-lady shopping carts because I had brought my little Lawn Buddy that doubles as a wagon for any loot I purchased:

but those plastic wheels were noisier than shit on the asphalt and that got REAL old REAL fast.  Plus, the shopping cars were only $25 and I'll be able to use it over and over.

I also hit a couple of garage/yard sales this weekend and you know what just irritates the ever-lovin' crap outta me?  When I follow the jillion signs that all say, "HUGE YARD/GARAGE SALE" and when I get to said "huge" sale, there's nothing but a bunch of clothes scattered on a blanket along with old recalled baby items.

It's enough to sic that gutted mannequin on their asses.