I had a good weekend (wasn't sick once!) and I will tell you all about it later. First, I need your help in saving the BEST SHOW EVER. As usual, one of the television shows I love the most is on the chopping block. I'm like Charlie Brown and that goddamn football with these shows. I love, they cancel. I learn to love again, cancel. I am bitter, but slowly manage to become fond, CANCEL. Fuck. Anyway, the show in question is Pushing Daisies which, if you haven't watched it, is a lovely little twisted fairy tale of a show. It's brilliant and sweet and dark all at the same time. Last week's episode featured taxidermied guinea pigs pulling a covered wagon. I mean, COME ON. How can you not want to watch that? Please go here and sign the petition:
http://www.petitiononline.com/daisies/petition.html
It probably won't work, but it's worth a shot. I mean, shit, what the hell else is ABC doing? Is anyone really watching Eli Stone? I'm not.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Poor - it's what's for dinner.
Whee, back to being poor! My husband has been laid off and we're both kind of happy about it. I know, this is probably not the emotion that we're meant to have (especially seeing the way things are going in the world) but his job royally sucked and made him really unhappy which made me unhappy.
It's stressful, the money thing, but we're good at it and I think this is our third laying-off together as a couple. My favorite is when we were both laid off at the same time. Whee! Nothing to do! Nowhere to go! Together! We did fine. I mean, hell, I remember when my paycheck was $265. That was for two weeks pay, and yes, this is after I graduated from college. That is the kind of poor where you're trying to figure out how to feed yourself on $7 for the week because you have $8 in your checking account (gotta leave that buffer dollar!) It's real, people. It happened.
Related segue: I am cracking up that there's a politically-related debate over whether a yearly income of $250K is "wealthy" or not. I am here to tell you that IT TOTALLY IS. This is not a debate! If you make a freaking QUARTER MILLION DOLLARS A YEAR, guess what! You're wealthy. I do not care where you live, you're doing JUST FINE. Now shut yer rich pie hole.
Anyway, back to poor. I accustomed as I am to attempting frugality, am sort of worried that we're going to have to make some not-good economies. I'm fine with trying to shop less and planning meals more carefully but if anyone tries to take away my DVR I will cut a bitch. DO NOT TOUCH MY HAPPY RECORDING BOX. NO NO. BAD.
Ahem. Sorry, I get a bit emotional when it comes to my television because it's so good right now. I think Pushing Daisies is the best part of my week, it's so freaking awesome. (I mean, Getaway sticks? Effing brilliant!) And Chuck! I love my Charles Carmichael. I love you, television.
Sorry, I'm all over the place today. I was trying to get around to talking about food and meal planning and whatnot. I plan all our meals out for the week and do the shopping on Friday after work. The most labor-intensive meal I plan is for Saturday or Sunday night when I have a little extra time. This weekend I'm making Butternut Squash Soup with Sweet and Spicy Pecans.
It's my favorite autumnal meal and the ingredients are not expensive. I don't have an immersion blender so I just blend it in batches in my food processor and then pour it all back in the pot before adding the milk. I serve it with grilled cheese sandwiches (made with really good crusty bread) and a simple salad of baby greens topped with chopped green apple and celery. It's good leftover for lunch the next day and freezes well. PS. Do not make a face at it's Rachael Ray origins. A good recipe is a good recipe.
And that's all I've got kids! Have a good weekend.
It's stressful, the money thing, but we're good at it and I think this is our third laying-off together as a couple. My favorite is when we were both laid off at the same time. Whee! Nothing to do! Nowhere to go! Together! We did fine. I mean, hell, I remember when my paycheck was $265. That was for two weeks pay, and yes, this is after I graduated from college. That is the kind of poor where you're trying to figure out how to feed yourself on $7 for the week because you have $8 in your checking account (gotta leave that buffer dollar!) It's real, people. It happened.
Related segue: I am cracking up that there's a politically-related debate over whether a yearly income of $250K is "wealthy" or not. I am here to tell you that IT TOTALLY IS. This is not a debate! If you make a freaking QUARTER MILLION DOLLARS A YEAR, guess what! You're wealthy. I do not care where you live, you're doing JUST FINE. Now shut yer rich pie hole.
Anyway, back to poor. I accustomed as I am to attempting frugality, am sort of worried that we're going to have to make some not-good economies. I'm fine with trying to shop less and planning meals more carefully but if anyone tries to take away my DVR I will cut a bitch. DO NOT TOUCH MY HAPPY RECORDING BOX. NO NO. BAD.
Ahem. Sorry, I get a bit emotional when it comes to my television because it's so good right now. I think Pushing Daisies is the best part of my week, it's so freaking awesome. (I mean, Getaway sticks? Effing brilliant!) And Chuck! I love my Charles Carmichael. I love you, television.
Sorry, I'm all over the place today. I was trying to get around to talking about food and meal planning and whatnot. I plan all our meals out for the week and do the shopping on Friday after work. The most labor-intensive meal I plan is for Saturday or Sunday night when I have a little extra time. This weekend I'm making Butternut Squash Soup with Sweet and Spicy Pecans.
It's my favorite autumnal meal and the ingredients are not expensive. I don't have an immersion blender so I just blend it in batches in my food processor and then pour it all back in the pot before adding the milk. I serve it with grilled cheese sandwiches (made with really good crusty bread) and a simple salad of baby greens topped with chopped green apple and celery. It's good leftover for lunch the next day and freezes well. PS. Do not make a face at it's Rachael Ray origins. A good recipe is a good recipe.
And that's all I've got kids! Have a good weekend.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Back to my old complainy ways.
Can I just feel good for maybe seven whole days in a row? Seriously? Check it:
Last weekend (not yesterday, the weekend before) I had a really good, busy Saturday. I helped with a yard sale, went out to lunch, got shit done, had a fun day. Then I trotted home and spent two hours making a really complicated stew that involved two different kinds of booze, one of which I got to light on fire (or, rather, Kenny got to light on fire because I'm a freaking wuss.) Dinner was nice, we ate, we watched a movie, we had dessert and then I suddenly got that doomsday belly feeling, the one like I had last November when I got puking sick. I ignored it lalala and dragged myself into bed in the hopes that I could somehow "sleep off" the impending doom. HA HA. NOPE.
I spend some quality time with the bathroom floor that night and had a few moments where I remember sincerely wishing to be struck dead because death would be preferable to feeling like the contents of my body were being removed with a giant melon baller. I don't even know, that's just how it felt. BAD. The badness finally tapered off around 8am on Sunday morning and I spent the rest of the day wan and listless, sucking on ice chips and unable to leave my bed. It was 80 degrees and sparklingly sunny out, naturally. Man, it still pisses me off.
(Oh, and that stew? The one that took two hours to make? I cannot even look at it. I cannot think about it, I cannot smell it. It's now in the freezer and Kenny is going to have to eat it because I can't. Ever. Never. Nope.)
I felt fine by Monday night and when this past weekend rolled around I was determined to make up for lost time. Woo. Saturday was again, a fun day. Went to the gym, out to lunch, ran errands, hung out with Kate. Good times. Saturday night I learned my lesson and made a simple dinner. All was good. Sunday I woke up feeling just dandy and we joined our friends for a mountain bike ride which ended up being about an hour longer than normal. We rode all of it and I have the scars to prove it. I was completely exhausted when we got home and my allergies were kicking in too, thanks to all that damn fresh air. My allergies got worse and worse and the Claritin was not helping. I finally just took Benedryl to stop the sneezing and went to bed. So much for Sunday.
I woke up this morning feeling like a zombie and I'm still sneezing and now I have a headache. I swear to freaking God if what I have is actually a cold SOMEONE IS GOING TO PAY.
OH. And since I know at least one of you is thinking it, I ain't pregnant. This did not stop some woman who works in the University dining room (who I don't even know) from looking me up and down last week and saying, apropos to nothing, "SO, you're having a baby??"
And then I burst into flames. The end.
Last weekend (not yesterday, the weekend before) I had a really good, busy Saturday. I helped with a yard sale, went out to lunch, got shit done, had a fun day. Then I trotted home and spent two hours making a really complicated stew that involved two different kinds of booze, one of which I got to light on fire (or, rather, Kenny got to light on fire because I'm a freaking wuss.) Dinner was nice, we ate, we watched a movie, we had dessert and then I suddenly got that doomsday belly feeling, the one like I had last November when I got puking sick. I ignored it lalala and dragged myself into bed in the hopes that I could somehow "sleep off" the impending doom. HA HA. NOPE.
I spend some quality time with the bathroom floor that night and had a few moments where I remember sincerely wishing to be struck dead because death would be preferable to feeling like the contents of my body were being removed with a giant melon baller. I don't even know, that's just how it felt. BAD. The badness finally tapered off around 8am on Sunday morning and I spent the rest of the day wan and listless, sucking on ice chips and unable to leave my bed. It was 80 degrees and sparklingly sunny out, naturally. Man, it still pisses me off.
(Oh, and that stew? The one that took two hours to make? I cannot even look at it. I cannot think about it, I cannot smell it. It's now in the freezer and Kenny is going to have to eat it because I can't. Ever. Never. Nope.)
I felt fine by Monday night and when this past weekend rolled around I was determined to make up for lost time. Woo. Saturday was again, a fun day. Went to the gym, out to lunch, ran errands, hung out with Kate. Good times. Saturday night I learned my lesson and made a simple dinner. All was good. Sunday I woke up feeling just dandy and we joined our friends for a mountain bike ride which ended up being about an hour longer than normal. We rode all of it and I have the scars to prove it. I was completely exhausted when we got home and my allergies were kicking in too, thanks to all that damn fresh air. My allergies got worse and worse and the Claritin was not helping. I finally just took Benedryl to stop the sneezing and went to bed. So much for Sunday.
I woke up this morning feeling like a zombie and I'm still sneezing and now I have a headache. I swear to freaking God if what I have is actually a cold SOMEONE IS GOING TO PAY.
OH. And since I know at least one of you is thinking it, I ain't pregnant. This did not stop some woman who works in the University dining room (who I don't even know) from looking me up and down last week and saying, apropos to nothing, "SO, you're having a baby??"
And then I burst into flames. The end.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Guess who's cranky?
I know I should write an entry because it's been way too long and my last entry was way too cheerful. Things have been...not great lately and I've had a few days of really black moods, the kind of mood that reminds me of the few days of nameless rage that I get every month like clockwork.
I had my yearly girl-bits doctor appointment last week and he asked me if everything was going okay and I said yes, except for the two or three days of nameless rage that I get every month, but I'm not sure if that's me or my birth control pills. He perked up and was all, "I can give you a prescription to help with that!" Yay! I mean, who am I to say no to pharmaceuticals? yay for drugs! I realized at that appointment that I've been on the pill for eighteen years. I have no idea what I'm actually like without these delicious controlled hormones. I mean, I can't really judge my personality at age seventeen against the person I am now, so like it or lump it, I guess. Hey, at least my skin looks good.
In other news, Kate is having a yard sale this weekend (come buy our crap!) and I'm really hoping to unload some of my own junk because I am getting itchy with the amount of crap we have lying around. I told Kenny last night that I expected a big pile of stuff to sell from him and he looked me square in the face and said he didn't really have much. I stared him down until he could no longer meet my eye and told him to get a-rootin.
Last weekend we finally decided we'd had enough of the upholstered chair we'd bought a few years back, a chair that has proven to be both uncomfortable and a life project for the cat's claws. It was looking shoddy. I finally demanded that we put it on the curb and let someone else have it and I'll be dammed if some asshole didn't drive by and take just the seat cushion. No, jackass! All or nothing! God, I hate people. Who does that? It was free! Take it! Or don't! Now it's completely f'ing useless and we're hoping the garbage men will take it this morning.
Note to the guy putting up the five foot McC@in/P@alin sign in your yard to compliment the other twelve signs in your yard: Yeah, that was me giving you the stink-eye and if the election was based on who has the biggest sign, you'd totally win, douchebag. So good luck with that.
I had my yearly girl-bits doctor appointment last week and he asked me if everything was going okay and I said yes, except for the two or three days of nameless rage that I get every month, but I'm not sure if that's me or my birth control pills. He perked up and was all, "I can give you a prescription to help with that!" Yay! I mean, who am I to say no to pharmaceuticals? yay for drugs! I realized at that appointment that I've been on the pill for eighteen years. I have no idea what I'm actually like without these delicious controlled hormones. I mean, I can't really judge my personality at age seventeen against the person I am now, so like it or lump it, I guess. Hey, at least my skin looks good.
In other news, Kate is having a yard sale this weekend (come buy our crap!) and I'm really hoping to unload some of my own junk because I am getting itchy with the amount of crap we have lying around. I told Kenny last night that I expected a big pile of stuff to sell from him and he looked me square in the face and said he didn't really have much. I stared him down until he could no longer meet my eye and told him to get a-rootin.
Last weekend we finally decided we'd had enough of the upholstered chair we'd bought a few years back, a chair that has proven to be both uncomfortable and a life project for the cat's claws. It was looking shoddy. I finally demanded that we put it on the curb and let someone else have it and I'll be dammed if some asshole didn't drive by and take just the seat cushion. No, jackass! All or nothing! God, I hate people. Who does that? It was free! Take it! Or don't! Now it's completely f'ing useless and we're hoping the garbage men will take it this morning.
Note to the guy putting up the five foot McC@in/P@alin sign in your yard to compliment the other twelve signs in your yard: Yeah, that was me giving you the stink-eye and if the election was based on who has the biggest sign, you'd totally win, douchebag. So good luck with that.
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