But it's a Dry Heat

So I was gone this weekend to the beautiful and HOT city of Palm Springs where my seester and BIL have a beautiful house and I did not bring a computer with me so my only method of web-browsing was with my 1st Generation Motorola Droid and it just doesn't cut the mustard when it comes to catching up on the various blogs I follow.  But it does work splendidly for playing Words With Friends.  At which I suck.  So if any of you play WWF and want an easy win, play against me.  My WWF name is Another Kelly.  It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel.  Like Wayne Gretzky playing against a team of 5 year old beginners.   Like betting that Sarah Palin will say something really stupid and ignorant.


THAT easy.


Anyway.

I mentioned it was HOT.  I had Thing 2 take a picture of the temperature while we were en route:

100 degrees before 10:00am.  We had been watching the temperature gauge climb every mile and we bet that it would hit the Big Triple Digits before it hit 10:00am and we were right.

But it's a Dry Heat.

We spent the weekend lounging in the pool:

and I worked on my melanoma and I can now say that my legs have enough tan color that I can wear shorts and be only somewhat moderately embarrassed instead of REALLY embarrassed.

Yay me.

But the highlight of our weekend was getting to witness a baby bird take his first flight and leave the nest.

Right outside the back door of the house, a Dove had built a nest on top of one of the columns.  And we think Mama Dove was more than ready for Junior to leave the nest, seeing as how she had pretty much stripped the nest of any sort of cushioning and comfort.  Junior was basically sitting on a piece of grass and stucco.

Seriously, there wasn't anything left of the nest.  So we observed Junior all weekend and he observed us cooing at him and on Sunday morning, he started getting up and walking around his little perch.  Not once did he flap his little wings or show an indication he was going to fly the coop so we figured he was looking for Mom & Dad to bring him some breakfast.

I decided to snap a picture and about 5 minutes later, while we were watching, Junior flapped his little wings and we had lift-off.  We were SO not expecting this and he didn't get very far, smacking into the next column and falling down into the bushes.

And of course we screamed and went running to make sure he was okay.

He was.  Although he looked at us like, "What the hell?"

Ma & Pa Dove came fluttering down and hung out with Junior, nudging him to a more secure area and hopefully, he got the hang of this here flying thing and is off into the Wild Blue Yonder.

We would have loved to have stayed another day but some of us (Not me!) had to work the next day so we packed up our stuff and headed home.

When we were driving away, we watched the temperature gauge on my car climb to 114' in about 5 minutes.  

ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN DEGREES.

But it's a Dry Heat.

Thr Rooster Crows at Midnight

So Gracie and I are on our morning walk at our local park, which I love because nobody is there in the early morning hours except for a couple of fishermen and the firemen from the station right at the entrance out for their morning jogs and the cadets from the Police Academy on the north side of the park out for THEIR morning runs and do you wonder why I love this park so much?

Another reason I love my park is because of the flora and fauna I see every morning other than the hot and hunky firemen and police cadets.  The flock of Canada geese and their babies, the regular "Mother Goose" type of geese and their babies, the ground squirrels who chirp a warning whenever we get near their "village" and the tree squirrels who will mug you and steal your car keys if you don't hand over some peanuts.  There's also hawks, osprey, swallows, ducks, raccoons, possums, a fox once in a great while and coyotes.

And this week, there's a new resident residing at the park:

He showed up a couple of days ago and just hangs around this old, abandoned ranger station and kind of looks as if he's thinking, "How the hell did I get HERE?"  


I have no idea where he came from, it's not like he was flying south and looked down and said, "Hey!  Now there's a nice place to hang for the Summer!"


Unfortunately, I think his days are numbered, based on the interest shown by some of the fishermen.  I think they're thinking, "DINNER!" if they can catch him.


Years ago, when the Vietnamese boat people first relocated to the area, the chickens that had roamed the parking lot at Knott's Berry Farm for decades started disappearing.


America, Land of Free Catch-Your-Own Chicken!

Great.  Now I'm having a craving for Mrs. Knott's Chicken Dinner.

Anyway.


So then, I'm driving home from the park this morning and I actually hit a crow that didn't fly fast or high enough and does anyone know if that's a bad omen?  I'm thinking it is because I've got a big ol' cold sore/fever blister showing up on my lip and I got bit or stung by something, I don't know what, on my sternum area and it hurts like a MoFo and it's big and swollen and bruised-looking and did I mention it HURTS?  Oh, I'm REAL attractive right now.  Jason Statham should be knocking on my door any minute to profess his undying love for me because I'm such a catch right now what with my herp and my bite between my boobs.


But on the Good News Front, Thing 1 was notified that he is the proud recipient of a couple of grants that will cover all his tuition and books for his entire sophomore year AND the first semester of his junior year.  How relieved proud are we?

Okay, I gotta go put medicine on my Herp.


Beauty, eh?

I have a new Gypsy Wagon!

No, I don't mean that I have a REAL Gypsy Wagon:

 Although I would LOVE one of these because how cool is this thing?  If I lived on a large property, meaning just a bit more than the 6,000 square foot lot my house in the 'burbs sits on now, I would have one of these and use it as either a guest room or my own little sanctuary.  A place I could just chill out in and maybe read some taro cards or peer into my crystal ball and yes, I really do have a crystal ball.  Quartz crystal, not lead.  Although I don't actually have any taro cards.  Yet.  Sorry.

Anyway.

In case you're wondering, my family calls me, "Gypsy" and my car is the Gypsy Wagon.

Clever.

And Original.

Anyway.

As you may have read previously, I've been going through a bit of a car saga.  My old Gypsy Wagon, a leased 2008 Saturn Vue is getting returned and TheManTheMyth and I had different ideas for a new Gypsy Wagon.  He says "Used" and I said, "New."

And since he's the Breadwinner of the Family, he gets his way.

So I found an acceptable "previously owned" vehicle and yesterday we went to purchase said vehicle.  Which was at a dealership.  Because they offered better interest rates than the bank would if we did a private sale/purchase.

Anyway.

TheManTheMyth looked at the car I had found and thought it was acceptable.  

Then he took it for a test drive.

And was Not That Impressed.

But since this was to be MY Gypsy Wagon, he shrugged and said, "Well, if you're okay with it..." and while it wasn't my first choice for a car and did not have my beloved satellite radio, I could live with it.

So while our Sales Guy was running my credit report, we wandered around the lot, looking at the New Cars to pass the time.

New cars.  Which TheManTheMyth had said a big, fat "NO!" to.  And do you like how I ended that sentence in a preposition?

Anyway.

We're looking at the new cars and TMTM says, "Why didn't you look at these?  These are nicer!" as he points to a certain car.

And I remind him of his "We aren't getting a new car!  You don't need a new car!" vow.

And he says, "But this is better than THAT car, it has way more room inside.  And more headroom.  This is better." 

And I say (while hoping against hope), "But you told me we aren't getting a new car!"

And he looks at me, then looks at the New Car and says, "But these are better."  And for a split second, I thought he was going to say, "But these go to Eleven" and 10 points for anyone who gets that.

We looked at the sticker price then looked at each other and then looked at the sticker price again.

And then our Sales Guy comes out with my credit report (which was excellent, thank you very much) and says, "Let's go do the paperwork on (used vehicle)."

And TMTM points to the new car and says, "We want this one instead."

Behold!  The New Gypsy Wagon!

Okay, so it's not a real wagon; it's a Chevy.  And pay no attention to the fat broad making the sweeping gesture.  It was a long day and I was tired when my sister took this picture and my hair looks like crap.

But my new Gypsy Wagon has satellite radio, which the used car did not, Bluetooth, which the used car did not, the LoJack system, which neither the used car nor my Saturn did not and it gets kick-ass gas mileage, which my Saturn most assuredly Did Not.  And it came with a full tank of gas, which is always appreciated and I am absolutely giddy at the though of not having to fill up on a weekly basis.

How did I not see that I'd get a new car.  I have a crystal ball.  I should have seen this coming.

Random stuff because I'm awake at 5:30am

So today is the first day of Summer Vacation, which means I don't have to get up at 6:00am for the next few months.

Which is why I've been wide awake since Dark:00am.  Because the goddamn yapdog next door has been yapping it's high pitch, shrill yap since 4:30am and Ima go and punt that thing if it doesn't shut the fuck up.  Why yes, it IS a Chihuahua, how did you know?

So I'm laying there, listening to this non-stop yapping, asking myself, "WHY ME, LORD?" and TheManTheMyth and Thing 1 leave for work after making as much noise as possible and turning on as many lights as possible and I'm all, "I can go back to sleep now" but no, Petunia (of COURSE that's the name of the dog.  Which is a male.  Go figure) continues to yap and yap and yap and yap and this whole time, Gracie Lou is comatose on her back in the middle of the bed, completely oblivious to the yapping dog next door and I finally threw in the towel and got out of bed.

For the last few weeks, I've been waking up at Buttcrack O' Dawn, even when I don't need to and who is getting more than a little pissed about it?  This gal.  I don't know if it's a menopause thing, a "too much on my mind" thing or a goddamn fucking dog that won't shut the fuck up thing.

Or a combination of all 3.  All I know is that there have been a few times I've been up before TMTM and he's all, "What are YOU doing up?  Oh.  Well, since you're up, clean the house, wash your car."

Um, no.

Instead, I'm checking my e-mails, messageboards, Facebook, Damn You Auto Correct, which is guaranteed to make whatever you're drinking come shooting out of your nose because it's THAT FUNNY and to continue to shop for a lightly-used vehicle.  Because despite my massive slip of the tongue moment the night before, I made it quite clear to TMTM that we are not keeping my car and that if he wants to pay money for a gas guzzler, there are much cheaper SUVs out there because dealers are practically paying YOU to buy those these days.

And late last night, I went back to the dealer website of the car I've been looking at and saw that they just dropped the price another $1500.00 and why yes, I went and woke up TMTM to tell him that.  So I'll be calling the dealer this morning to go and have a look-see.  Wish me luck there.

Okay, who is absolutely glued to their seat over the Stanley Cup Finals?  This has been the most exciting Stanley Cup and I love that it's come down to Game 7 except that throughout the series, the home team has won each game and tonight's game is in Vancouver and well, I'm kind of cheering for Boston.  But Thing 2 is pulling for the Canucks so watching the games has been full of quaint expressions such as "SUCK ON THAT!" and "LOSER!" and "#WINNING!!" and things might get rather ugly tonight.  And of course, no matter who ends up hoisting the Cup, I'll get all teary-eyed and need a tissue, which is pronounced, "tis-syew" for dramatic purposes.


Well, Petunia has stopped his infernal yapping but now there's a murder of crows outside, screeching and cawing and circling and screeching and cawing and it's times like these I wish I had a sling shot.

It's drizzling outside right now.  And why did I have to include the word "outside" in that statement?  It's not like it's drizzling INSIDE.


I'm going back to bed.

 

My Big Fat Gypsy Mouth

Please tell me you've seen that show on TLC, "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding."  If you haven't, you are missing something pretty...um, well...mind-boggling.  And I am hooked like a fish.

Normally, I don't watch shows on the channel that inflicted the Gosselins, the Duggars and that moron attention whore from Alaska on the American People but when I saw a blurb for BFGW, I  knew that this would definitely be Must See TV.

And it's been All That AND a Caravan of Chips.

The first time I had heard of Gypsy/Traveller Weddings was when someone sent me an article about a 16 year Traveller girl's wedding and it was so over the top, I was trainwreck fascinated.  And knew I must learn more.

If you haven't seen the show, well, you are missing out is what I'm saying.  It's like Jersey Shore without the drinking, the sex, the profanity and, well, the cast of Jersey Shore.

Instead, we get to see 16 year old girls getting married in these absolutely flabbergasting dresses

There was even a bride who had a light up dress!  You can't make this shit up!

Must haves for a Gypsy teen bride include gallons of spray tan, false eyelashes, gobs of makeup and lots and lots of skin showing:

Klassy.

I love this show.

In other news, I've mentioned a time or two that the lease on my gas-guzzling 2008 Saturn Vue (15 mpg city, people) is coming to an end this Sunday and who is more excited to see the last of that car?  This gal.

However, it has been a bone of contention between TheManTheMyth and myself to the point my eye has been twitching like crazy, something that only happens when I am REALLY stressed and livid.

After sending me out to test drive various new cars over the last month or two, TheManTheMyth then informed me that no, I would not be getting a new car, that I didn't NEED a new car and that we (he) would not be spending any money on a new car when a cheap old used car would be perfectly adequate.

Cheap.  Old.  Used.  Car.

Exsqueeze me?

Baking powder?

Let's just say I had to leave not only the room but the house when he made that pronouncement because I needed to go and punch a tree instead of punching my husband, that's how pissed I was.

What *I* have in mind:

What *HE* has in mind:

So I'm fuming and seething and I vent to my sisters, who both agreed that I had every right to be upset.

 

But a couple of days later, I calmed down and went back into research mode and found a couple of lightly used sedans that I deemed suitable.  And I printed up the information and left it sitting on my desk while I ran errands.

TheManTheMyth just *happened* to see the info sitting there on my desk and he was much more inclined towards these cars than buying a brand new car and told me to look into it, that he was good with my choices.

And I'm all, "Whew!" because I had visions of him coming home with a Brand New 1976 Tomato Red Saab and saying, "Look honey!  Your new car!" 

Which actually happened.  My dad came home one day, in 1976, with the ugliest car in the ugliest Tomato Red color we had ever seen  and presented it with a flourish while we were all, "What the hell is THAT?"

Anyway.

We're talking about the price of these cars I had picked out and whether or not we could get an even better price because one of the cars is at a dealership where I could turn in my leased Saturn and we're talking and I'm thinking, "Yay, I'm actually going to get a car I won't cringe at every time I have to get behind the wheel" when I had to open my Big Fat Gypsy Mouth and everything came to a screeching halt.

Me and my Big Fat Gypsy Mouth just HAD to mention the buy-out price of my Saturn, which is $3,000 less than the cars I put forth for his consideration.  And even as the words were coming out of my Big Fat Gypsy Mouth, the voice in my head was screaming, "Shut up.  Shut. Up. SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!"

Did I listen to that voice telling me to shut the fuck up?

That would be "No."

And TMTM says, "If it's only that much, then we'll just keep your car" and I'm all, "No no no nononononononononono.  NO!!" at the same time I'm asking myself, "When will you learn to keep your Big Fat Gypsy Mouth shut, ya dipshit!"

And I sputtered and said stoutly, "We are NOT KEEPING MY CAR!  It gets TERRIBLE gas mileage!  I go through a tank of gas a week!" and TMTM says, "Well, you don't drive anywhere and it's probably a small tank" and I show him proof that a) I do drive enough to go through a tank of gas a week and 2) it's got a 19 gallon tank and he says, "Well, just don't drive so much" and that, Your Honor, is why he needed killing.

Miss Otis Regrets

Over at the Pie, today's topic is regrets, based on this article about the Top 5 things people wish while on their deathbeds.  And no, wishing they weren't on their deathbeds is not one of them.

So June asked us, her Faithful Followers, what would be our biggest regret or wish we had while on our deathbeds.


I've done some really stupid things in my life, made some really stupid choices in my life but ya know what?  There's not too much I regret doing.


Okay, I DO regret bleaching my hair and cutting it to look like Rod Steward during his "Blondes Have More Fun" phase because really, I'm SO not a blonde and it really was an awful look for me but just like all the other questionable choices I've made, it was a learning experience.  


I've done things that even as I was making the decision to do them, I knew it was going to be a train wreck of epic proportions that could only end badly yet I plunged recklessly ahead and yeah, it was as big a train wreck as I had feared.

But do I regret doing those things?  Nope.  Again, I learned from my mistakes (Cowboy boots with shorts?  Really?) and moved forward, a little older, a little wiser (I hope).


While I don't regret the things I've done, there's a few things I regret NOT doing:


I regret not learning to play the piano.  I begged my parents for piano lessons when I was a kid.  BEGGED.  And was denied.  I always wanted to be able to sit down at a piano and play beautiful music. I'd go to people's homes who had pianos and I would sit at the keyboard and literally ache to be able to play.  Yes, I know I could take lessons now but I don't think my arthritic fingers would cooperate.


I regret not taking education more serious and going to college.  I honestly can't recall either of my parents ever discussing the importance of a college education with my sisters and me.  In fact, the only thing my dad ever really said about college was that it was a big waste to spend that kind of money for girls who would only get married and become housewives.  I honestly can't remember anyone, parents, high school counselor, etc, ever talking to me about my future.  To this day, I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.

I regret not being more assertive.


I regret always feeling not quite pretty enough, smart enough, good enough.

Pity, Party of One Your Table is Ready

Disclaimer:  I'm about to whine and throw myself one big-ass pity party so feel free to move along.  Fair warning.

So Saturday was my birthday.  It was not observed in any particular way although Thing 1 did give me a lovely bouquet of flowers and Thing 1's GF gave me a gift card to California Pizza Kitchen (Hello Thai Crunch salad!).

Oh, and the traditional phone call from each of my sisters doing their best Marilyn Monroe breathy rendition of "Happy Birthday."  These singing phone calls are mandatory and are eagerly awaited.


TheManTheMyth, who had been out of town racing, gets home yesterday afternoon and completely ignores the bouquet on the table.  Takes no notice of it, makes no comment whatsoever.

This morning (Monday), TheManTheMyth's bidness partner comes over and the first thing he says is, "What pretty flowers!  Is it your birthday?  Happy Birthday!"

TheManTheMyth says nothing.

The two of them go into my office to look at some blueprints and I hear Bidness Partner ask TMTMif he did anything special for my birthday.  Dinner? Card?  Flowers?


TheManTheMyth's reply?


"I didn't know it was her birthday."


And that was the sole acknowledgement of my birthday from TheDeadManWalkingTheMyth.