Soon My Pretties

I will be able to reveal some of the top secret knitting I've been working on.

In the meantime, it's all wrapped up and ready to go.



No, I didn't make that bag thingy (ETA: I got it on clearance from Michaels, not sure if they have them anymore). But I made the rest!

In other news I've been invited to a potluck lunchy event this week. I volunteered to make cookies.



Now the question is--what kind???

Death of a Statesman

I don't talk about work much on my blog.

Not as much as I used to--and then deleted. This is post #733 for me. If I hadn't gone and deleted about 75 posts wherein I bitched about working for The Man back in Michigan--I'd be rounding 800 right about now.

However, one day I saw that someone at the old firm had found my blog. They weren't on here for more than one second, but it was enough to teach me.

Since then, I've been good about keeping my major gripes about work to vague minimum.

That said, this story is too good to pass up.

Yesterday we had a very special visitor to the firm.

I won't directly mention who--other than to say he's up for re-election this year in Nueva Jersey and Attorney DK, the first name on the letterhead, is his go-to man for all of his election law legal needs.

Special Visitor was there for a little fundraiser Attorney DK was throwing him. It lasted about forty five minutes and the attorneys and secretarial staff got to rub elbows with Special Visitor.

It was a big schmoozefest I guess. I didn't get to go because the schmoozefest started at 8:00 a.m. and this girlie has a family to support both financially and otherwise--I just couldn't get there at 8:00 a.m. (Work starts at 9:00 a.m. here on the East Coast--I know! I thought that 9 to 5 was just a myth perpetuated by bad Dolly Parton songs!!). Gotta keep that economy going right?

Anyway, the two associate attorneys I sit near--Associate Ick and Associate Rude (those aren't meant to be demeaning names--they're a couple of nice guys) came back and told me about something horrible that had happened to Special Visitor during the hob knob session.



At one point during the event, Chatty Cathy cornered Special Visitor!!!

Apparently when Associate Rude saw this he turned to Associate Ick and said:

"Should I go and save Special Visitor? He's going to lose the election if I don't--he'll be talking to her for the next four years."

Maybe you had to be there, or maybe you have to know exactly who Special Visitor is (I'm sure my NJ peeps will figure it out) but this little story cracked me the hell up!!!!

3rd Circle of Hell

You know your day is going to be wonderful when you walk to your desk twenty minutes before your day is supposed to officially start and your bottom of the totem pole boss pops out of his cubicle when he hears you approach and before you can say "You're here early!" because he never shows up before 9:00 a.m., and he apologizes in advance to you about how much he's going to make your day suck.

And he was right, it did suck. But it's done now. And like the pain of a tattoo, childbirth, or having your offspring ripped from your loins, I'm sure by tomorrow I'll forget all about it.

I didn't, however, forget about Cookie of the Week!



I really need to come up with a more appealing backdrop than foil or the cooling rack for my cookie pictures.

These are a "breakfast cookie." The recipe consists of shredded carrots, apples, coconut and of course lots of sugar and fat.

Still has to be healthier than a bowl of fruit loops though right?

They're good, but like many of the other fruit-based cookies I've baked, they're very cakey and soft. Which isn't so bad, but it makes them hard to store, they tend to mold together.

But not like finding a giant lump of cookie in my lunch ever made life horrible!

Come With Me

Let us put on our sunhats and stroll around The Estate shall we?



Outside the front door to our Bezidence we have a lush array of potted goods.



Planted in the crock of the crockpot that went tits up this winter we have the Super Elfin Hot Impatiens. They're doing quite well.

Next to them is a box of lettuce mix that tasted quite good on our Memorial Day barbequed burgers (even if mine wasn't cooked all the way thru).

Then comes my primrose and hardy mommum--both doing quite well. I'm enjoying the second flowering on the primrose and can't wait for the electric purple mommums to bloom this fall.

Finally there are the peas which are blooming quite nicely. I'm hoping to train them to grab onto the railing there. We'll see.

Wending our way down the stairs we come across the other half of my pot garden.




Starting at the right, there's my box of radishes. We'll see if those actually work this year. Last year I didn't space them far enough apart and they never "radished" out. They stayed skinny. Like tough red carrots.



Next to the radishes is a pot of either squash, cucumbers or pumpkins. They all look the same as young seedlings, so I'm not sure which it is.



In the small pail is a teeny little marigold sprout. Sprouted from some seeds I saved from the ever so hardy little Mother's Day marigold Chunky gave me last year. I'm quite excited the baby of my Mother's Day plant has sprouted!

Then I've got the salvia kickin' it.

The oregano slowly coming up next to that.

My taters--also starting slowly.

Finally there's a pot of squash/cuke/pumpkin with bachelor buttons or possibly a daisy--I can't remember which and another pot of squash/cuke/pumpkins.

Inside on the windowsill--perhaps the "sun room" of The Estate?--I have my basil and catnip plants I planted last year. They both made it through the winter and have exploded with growth!

I don't think basil is a perrenial--so I've got plans to replace this plant.



See, now THIS is a fundraiser I can get behind. Screw tricky trays. I ordered a basil plant and rosemary. I don't really ever use rosemary, but Chunky's class planted the rosemary, so I had to get some. I'll find something to do with it.

Plus it was great fun sending him to school with an envelope of cash labeled: "Herb Money."

Satis-faction

Holy guacas.

It's amazing what bringing home no work and having a three day weekend will do!

I did NOTHING on Saturday (ok I went grocery shopping) and it was everything I thought it would be and more.

Sunday?

I got some quick baby blankets made up for some people I know expecting offspring soon.



More on what I've included with those receiving blankets later.

I also took these:



And started on this:



Very cool. I'm super excited about this!

I also managed to:

* Make a big old bowl of tater salad--Bezzie style, you make it with a squirt or two of ranch dressing, yum!

* Bake 3 dozen "breakfast cookies" (more on those later too).

* Finish reading one of my library books (yes Mom, I took your suggestion...it didn't suck but it wasn't phenomenal).

* Get some substantial knitting done on a baby present (that will be married to one of those receiving blankets).

* And I got to of course hang out with my boys!



What did you get done this weekend?

Last Kick

You know how when you're running a race and you start off slow and then near the finish line you crank it up and "kick it" to the finish line?

Yeah me neither. I only run when chased. But Dr. Mad Scientist in his past life was a track/cross country nerd and I picked this competitive running strategy from him.

Anyway--I'm soooooo close to finishing the bigass data project from hell.

But this long weekend I've decided NOT to bring any work home.



Instead I'll be knitting and maybe tackling these.



And hanging with my boys.

Did I mention someone started eating solid food this week?



Nom! Nom!!!

The Boat is Burning!!!!

I think I've got Spam Flu.

I'm getting a scratchy throat and runny nose. And I don't have allergies.

At least swines taste better than spam!!

But processed meat product flu or not--I'll give you an entry today.

This entry was inspired by a conversation I had earlier this week with my sister T., a plight involving a pool I read about on Donna Lee's blog, and the fact that Wendy thinks I'm honest.

I'm supposed to list ten truthful things about myself.

Truthfully? I can't come up with 10 that you probably don't know already.

But I can think of one.

I can't swim.

This used to embarrass the heck out of me.

But you know what? When you grow up in Alaska, your "beaches" look like this.


Photo from virtualtourist.com

And if you walk on them they can suck you in and can kill you, or they might be full of large boulder sized rocks covered in slick algae.

Not to mention that if you fall in the water up there (some lakes in the summer aren't so bad) that hypothermia can kill you in under 10 minutes. Swimming and treading water isn't going to help you in very cold water either. That just wastes precious body heat.

Needless to say, learning to swim wasn't up there on the list of must-dos.

However, in 9th grade in gym class suddenly learning to swim was a must-do.

9th grade gym was a graduation requirement. Part of 9th grade gym was swimming.

You had two options: You could take a simple swim test where you swam one lap of the pool and you passed that unit and could go back to playing dodgeball or smoking in the locker rooms (or eating donuts and reading the sports page as the shop teacher-come-gym teacher was apt to do).

Or, if you couldn't pass the simple swim test, you could take a two week lesson that would teach you to swim.

As I was telling my youngest younger sister--I want to remember that I didn't attempt to swim the lap and just told Mr. Donutmuncher that I couldn't swim.

But to be honest, I think I tried to pass the test and made a complete ass of myself flailing around in the pool.

Cut to me and Tommy the Pigeon Toed Kid--the only other person in my class who couldn't swim a lap in our swim class--taking our basically one-on-one How To Swim course with the high school's swimming coach.

One problem: Do you see my profile picture up there in the corner?

Do you see what I'm wearing?

No, not the curlers (although those might make a great PFD!). The glasses.

I've worn glasses since I was a little bit older than Chunky.

I've never been interested in contacts. Because honestly, the idea of putting a foreign object on my freaking EYEBALL skeeves me out. And I'm lazy. I'd rather sleep than use that time worry about putting those contacts in/taking them out/cleaning them, etc.

Mr. Swimcoach always made me take off my glasses in the pool. They weren't allowed or something.

So here he is showing me how to stroke, kick, turn my head and breathe and all that shit, and here's what I'm seeing:



But to get the true effect--make that image slightly doubled--and that's how well I can see without my glasses.

You can imagine that I picked up a lot of useful information squinting at Mr. Swimcoach for two weeks and listening as Tommy the Pigeon Toed Kid learn to swim better than me.

At the end of the two weeks Tommy PTK and and I were taken to the deep end where our final "test" would be to see how we did jumping into the deep water and coming back up to the surface.

Holy crap.

You know how you piss your pants in scary situations? And how you're not supposed to pee in pools?

Honestly, I can't guarantee I didn't pee myself doing this exercise.

Tommy PTK went first and was in and out of the water and on with his life.

I, on the other hand sat perched at the side of the pool while Mr. Swimcoach treaded water in the pool waiting for me to jump in.

I was wearing a life jacket, so it's not like I was going to die. But there's something about that instant that the water hits you and swallows you up and everything goes silent except for that muffled glug-glug of the water filling your ear canal and the way the water presses in on your ribcage making you want to gasp for air, but you can't that is so frightening.

After about four minutes of me hemming and hawing at the edge of the pool and Mr. Swimcoach assuring me he wouldn't let me drown he finally gave up and started screaming at me:

"The boat is burning! The boat is burning! Jump or you'll die!"

Honestly?

Next time I'll take Death by Smoke Inhalation for $500, Alex.

Off Season Ambitions

I was putzing around the internets last week when I found this on Joann.com:



Colorado State University fabric--100% cotton.

I bought 5 yards.

Yeah, I went a little overboard. But I also got that 5 yards for $19.98 before shipping & handling. Not too shabby.

I've been saving these since Chunky was a little Chunkito.



That would be a stack of Colorado State onesies, t-shirts, and sweatshirts that Chunky wore when he was an infant and toddler.

Now, a true cheapass would hand these down to Moochie to wear. However, a true CSU fan would insist that her boy have their own individual spiritwear. Hee hee.

Instead I think I might make a quilted wallhanging out of the fabric I scored and that stack of Chunky shirts.

Dr. Mad Scientist was very open to the idea--and even mentioned it would make a great decoration to his Man Cave.

Now he doesn't yet have Man Cave and he won't until we buy a house. That's at least four years off. And his Man Cave then might just be a corner of the basement (because I can guarantee any house we buy WILL have a basement--there are tornados EVERYWHERE!).

Which means I have plenty of time to finish this!!!!

Sneak Peek

Gah, I REALLY want to expose these--they turned out so well!

But for now all you get is little snippets.





Sorry.

I also realized that I've had my wheel for exactly one year this week.

I'll be honest, I still don't know shit about spinning.

I can't tell you what a long draw is, spinning from the fold, what skirting a fleece involves, or what the micron count of merino is...




But I can spin with a squirmy Moochie on my lap!

Brain Boogers

I finished knitting something this week.

But I can't show it to you. Yet.

Instead something silly has been knocking around my brain.



Random Waffle Picture: Bacon Cheddar.

Why do women spend so much money on their underwear?

And why do they put so much stock in feeling sexy in underwear?


Shitty Blurry Waffle Picture: Carrot Cake.

Do we really need a $40+ piece of clothing holding up our tits to make us feel confident and sexy?


Washed Out Color Waffle Picture: Apple Cinnamon Walnut.

But more ponderous to me is this: How come MEN don't spend $40+ on the 1/4 yard or so of swishy fabric it takes to make a pair of underwear by Filipino children in a sweatshop to feel confident and sexy?

On the day Barack Obama decided to get into politics sit in front of his underwear drawer and try to pick out the pair of underpants that would give him the confidence to enter the life of political servitude?


Recycled Waffle Freezer Storage Containment Unit Picture: Old Bread Bag.

Is it a women's lib thing? We burned our bras and made them less conical and dropped the constricting girdles and made our unmentionables "sexier" and somewhere along the line started equating sexiness with confidence and likability and coined the phrase "granny panties" to shun our more archaic underwear beginnings?

Or is it something Madison Avenue cooked up? Buy this teensey scrap of lace and feel good about yourself! You'll be desirable!

I dunno.

I just don't get it.

But I can't really cast waffles. I succumbed to the silly toe-peer pressure those damn Jersey girls at the office put upon me.

All their talk about people who don't paint their toenails and get pedicures finally got to me. I bought a $1.09 bottle of nail polish and have been keeping my toenails painted.

I still won't waste the money to get a pedicure. (The thought of people touching my feet in a loosely regulated field where foot fungus and toenail infections can easily be transmitted and then paying them money for doing these things I just can't bring myself to do.)

But you know what, I think I just answered my own question with that admission right there.

Whatever flips your cookie--or waffle.

And now you all are wondering what color Barack Oboner's underpants are.

Cookie of the Week

I didn't do Cookie of the Week last week because it was just boring old no-bake cookies.

This week was an old standby.





Fishing cookies.





They're an oatmeal cookie with chocolate chips, coconut and walnuts. Crispy and chewy all at once.

As I was watching an ad for that stupid Rocket Fishing Launcher fishing pole because you know casting a fishing pole is soooooo hard (just like planting a tomato or wearing a blanket to keep warm), it occurred to me that Chunky's never been fishing.

I know when I was his age my Old Man had taken me fishing. I want to say in the summer we'd go fishing nearly every weekend.

Four more years until we can hopefully migrate back up home. By that time Chunky will have a year or so of license-free fishing left.

Yes, I could take him fishing here in New Jersey. But gross, I'll openly admit to being a fish-snob. And I won't do catch and release. That's like alien abduction!!!

Frick!

Six weeks left of school.



I thought I was off the hook.

Of Waffles and Poop

I woke up today , my first Mother's Day as a mother of two, at 7:30 a.m. to the paint peeling screeches of a Moochie exercising his octave range.

They weren't shrieks of anger, discomfort, annoyance, hunger, or anything bad. No, they were just shrieks for the sake of shrieking.

It's a damn thing he's cute or we would have to sell him to the space banditos.

The boys showered me with their gifts.

Chunky had a beautiful card he made me at school--seen here with the Dr. Mad Scientist trademark camera strap in the corner of the picture.



The boys got me a waffle iron!



As much as I hate appliances, I've wanted a waffle iron for some unknown reason.

Dr. Mad Scientist got me the "space saver" model. It stores on it's side for more compact storage.

Moochie got me a special gift to go with my waffle iron.



Frozen blueberries!

Ha ha! So when three boys hand you a waffle iron and blueberries--you make breakfast!



And yes, I made breakfast. I like baking my own birthday cake too.

Sofar, a great day.

Moochie was even so kind as to give me a present he made all by himself!!

You see, there's something about our computer chair that makes him poop. EVERY TIME I sit him on my lap while I'm 'putering--he goes a pootering himself.

This time though, he did a really diaper-buster and managed to crap on ME too! Such a sweetie! Especially since this is the fourth time now he's managed to crap on me.

I don't know if he's just been blessed with powerful rocket-bowels or diaper technology has really gone to pot (pun completely intended) since Chunky was in diapers.

Again, it's a good thing he's cute, or it would be off to the space banditos!

Happy Mothers' Day to everyone because think about it, if you didn't exist, someone wouldn't be quite the mother she is.

It's Been a Boring Week

What can I say? Or not say as the case may be.

I did finish something knitted.

But I can't show it to you. Not for another few weeks.

I'll entertain you with my pot garden instead.

I've got to re-pot my seedlings on the windowsill this weekend:


The cold weather plants are doing well. If I were a plant, I would be one of these guys.

The lettuce mix is doing well.



The primrose I bought when my Youngest Younger Sister was here in February and we went to the NJ Flower and Garden show is blooming again.



My hardy "mom" plant is doing well too.



The purple one survived the winter--the yellow one did not. I'll be honest, I liked the purple one better anyway!!

My peas are doing well too. I'm thinking I might thin the pot some though. Five seems like a lot for one pot.



Finally, Chunky's HSA (think PTA but with an acronym that sounds like a disease) had their spring plant sale. I sent him to school with $5 and he came home with these.



That's Salvia on the right, and two impatiens. I love impatiens (another shade lover)!! He did good picking! Plus I love the name of the type of impatiens he bought: Super Elfin' Hot.

Hopefully it won't be too super elfin' hot out this weekend and I'll get these babies planted A-OK!!!

Whatta Weekend!

Saturday was NJSASK! Lots of Sitting And Sans Kids! It.was.jawesome!

I kinda forgot my camera, Chris did a great write up here. We had a good time!

Hopefully by October she'll have her knee back and I'll have my boobs back.

Sunday was a constant drizzle so it was inside all day.

Which was fine. I needed to tend to a couple of things.

Mending mainly.

One of the joys--aside from the comingling of strangers pubic hairs or finding strange underwear in your laundry when you get home--is that the machines can be mean to your clothes. And if they eat one of the buttons on your work pants, you are shit out of luck in ever getting that button back.



I consulted my downright pathetic button jar to find a matching button and miraculously found one!



Next up I tackled my winter coat.

This coat is almost as old as those work-pants (the work pants are about 7.5 years old--I think I bought them after I had Chunky). I LOVE my winter coat. It's a black wool peacoat.

Yes, I realize by confessing this I am totally showing my Wonderbreadness, but I LOVE this coat. I love the pockets, I love the collar, it's warm enough for a mild Lower 48 winter, I love it. It's my go-to "dress" coat.

So I was a little sad to realize this year the cuffs were starting to wear.



I came THIS close to buying a new peacoat. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

The ones I saw were:

a) Too expensive (I bought my coat on winter clearance--even the winter clearance ones I saw this season, I couldn't beat or match what I paid for mine); or

b) Just not the same. They had different pockets, or were straight-cut, or had hoods, or cinchy belts--I wanted something identical to mine.

I committed myself to just wearing the coat with the frayed cuffs.

And then it hit me--



Bias tape!



This was too gentle of a task for The Beast so I handsewed the tape on the cuffs.

The verdict??



I can't wait for the weather to get cold again!!!