Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

I Again Embarrass Myself at Lunch

Our lunch conversation wandered around. What did "F-A-B" stand for on Thunderbirds, that was one topic. Steve had slandered Marcia on Twitter. Aborted fetuses in artificial sweetener. Pythons eating alligators. Things we heard on the news. I mentioned that game they have in Southeast Asia now called "Angry Brides" that discourages dowries.

That story caught my eye because it seemed shed light on what happened with the Nephew's first wife, a girl from a Kashmiri family, who died of suicide.

The group at work know the context and weren't as utterly bummed out as most of you are right now. I know. And that is where I made my mistake at lunch.

See, I was comparing this news story about brides in Southeast Asia and how it paralleled the Nephew's bride in Kansas City, when a woman from a neighboring department approached our table to sit down. She said hi to everyone, put down her stuff and was sitting down just as I resumed the conversation -

"So we didn't consider it a dowry suicide ..."

She was sitting down during the sentence, her rear hit the chair on "suicide," and she stood back up like she was a yo-yo on a string. While we said "Wait - stop!" she swept her stuff off the table and left.

She tossed, "You scared me off" at me, and then when others tried to get her to come back claimed she just wanted to say hi to a guy at a table over there.

Alan suggested it was a good thing she hadn't sat down during the aborted fetus / sweetener conversation, she would have left burn marks on the carpet.

As Jon Stewart Might Say, "Roll 220"

One day Mom said something odd. She shared a quote she'd read, something about "how a daughter's job is to agree with the mother's version of the family history."

I believe I gave her the snake-eye with the eyebrows all askew. It seemed quite out of place. She wasn't dying, and it wasn't prompted by any blog bit she disagreed with. I must have asked what facade she wanted me to keep up. I don't remember any response.

That's my family. I think our family's warts and all have been documented. Changing the history would be impossible and unnecessary.

The in-laws? Some of them will relate a version of history that counters memories I have in my head. They might say, "Remember when A happened? That was hilarious!" and I reply, "No, it was B, and it was not hilarious."

"B? B?! That never happened."

"I was there. I remember it. Gary, B happened, right?"

Gary confirms that oh yeah, 'B,' that was nuts.

And the in-law will say, "No, that never happened." The denial is accompanied by a robotic head shake and steady dead eyes fixed on mine that make my doubt my mind. As if they think I'm about to be hypnotized into a different recollection.

For example, the Kansas City contingent came by recently and they have changed into a dead-eyed Stepford family. The children raved about their moral upbringing, which I don't contest. The they went on and on about how they never were allowed to see R-rated movies.

I thought, "Whaaaa?" 

Gary said, "Whaaaa? Sandy, you've been taking them to see R-rated movies since they were little kids."

"I did not! That never happened."

I said, "Sandy, we all discussed it at the time and how -"

"That never happened." Dead eyes. Head shake. Children all shake their heads. Stepford Family.

The conversation went on to how the kids were never allowed play with guns or knives. This is why the kids are so non-violent. And why their Mom is the Greatest.

I do think it's wonderful the kids love their Mom, and I think it's great especially considering they haven't always appreciated her.

Perhaps, I though, that was because they were bitter about non being allowed to play with guns while their mom married a knife-weilding ex-con who chased her naked through their condo, and then later held a gun to the nephew's head, thus violating the ex-con's parole and sending him back to jail. Maybe. Perhaps that also contributed to the non-violence. Or maybe it was the toys.

 At the time I said nothing, and that was good, because there was more to come.

The nephew is considering law school in Portland. We gave him some grief about Portand and the hippie reputation and how he'd fit right in.

"Why would I fit in with hippies," he said, "I'm not a hippie. Why would you think I'm a hippie?"

I thought, hmm, the drug addiction and the never bathing and the anarchist political beliefs and the brick-throwing in the war protest...

 "You're a pacifist!" Gary said, bless him.

At some point later someone brought up something else from the past and the nephew said, emphatically, "I've changed."

I hope he's changed. I hope it isn't the "history" that's changed. 

Siiick

The Issue That Made Me A Republican

I've been a life-long liberal, but it seems the weekly Debate Show starring Rick, Ron, Mitt and Newt has begun to influence me.

And today I heard some news that has swung me hard into the "No Big Government" camp. I read about Big Government making some regulations that are beyond the pale.

Read the whole article here. But in essence, it quotes some Oklahoma senator making this claim:

"There is a potential that there are companies that are using aborted human babies in their research and development of basically enhancing flavor for artificial flavors ... I don't know if it is happening in Oklahoma, it may be, it may not be. What I am saying is that if it does happen then we are not going to allow it to manufacture here."

If there was ever anything that would make me want to go to Oklahoma just so I could eat an aborted baby, it's Big Government regulating that I am not "allowed" to.

 I can't TELL you the craving I've had for Oklahoma-raised -aborted fetus since I read about this.

Tasty? I bet. I imagine, given they're 50% egg, they taste eggy, maybe with a salty finish of oyster. Like lobsters, the older ones may weigh more and make a spectacular display, but they aren't quite as tender.

Massive Stones

 

The image above is of a person under some largish pinkish-brown stones at Missouri's own Elephant Rocks State Park.

When Gary and I were watching the intro to the State of the Union, we did notice the President congratulating some head of Defense. "Good job today," Obama casually said.

"What was that?" we asked. Then through the speech we kept trying to call the Defense Guy in to the story. We eventually settled that he was getting kudos for this part of the speech:

"And I’m proud to announce that the Department of Defense, working with us, the world’s largest consumer of energy, will make one of the largest commitments to clean energy in history, with the Navy purchasing enough capacity to power a quarter of a million homes a year."

Well, Gary just bounced in to let me know that we were wrong, instead Defense Giuy got props because Seal Team 6 (Killing The Bad Guys since 2011, As Far As You Know) went in and rescued an aid worker in Somalia ... probably while the President was winding up his speech talking about how great Seal Team 6 is.

State of the Boobies

I can't be the only one who saw the First Lady at the State of the Union tonight and thought "Ouch."

Her boobies. They were flattened. I mean, she looked great, in a pre-pubescent way, but that must have hurt to have the First Boobies strapped down with Spanx or whatever got her into that royal blue sheath.

 

Gary Update

Gary returned to the neurologist today. I wasn't there, but Gary was careful in the re-telling to clarify what the doctor actually said (as opposed to what Gary extrapolated).

Gary shared with the doctor what he thought was good news. The last few weeks he's been feeling better. For example, he hasn't had to wear his sunglasses while at work. He was able to tolerate the blinding glare of the fully-lit doctors office for an entire fifteen minutes before he got nauseated and had to ask for the lights off.  And, he doesn't have a headache anymore, just a tight uncomfortable feeling around his head.

"So you still have a headache?" the doctor actually said.

"No. Just a tight uncomfortable feeling."

"A headache."

"Not a headache. Just a tight uncomfortable feeling."

"That's a headache."

"Well, not like the migraine I had back in November."

"'Back in November?' You're still having that migraine. You still get nauseated in the light, you're fatigued, your head hurts. You are in pain."

"I'm not in pain."

"You are. Your blood  pressure is high. It shows you're in pain," the doctor actually said.

Gary agreed his blood pressure was ridiculously high. Plus, I went on the internet after I heard this account and read non-verbal inidicators of pain, and Gary is non-verbally screaming in pain. Grimacing, guarding, bracing, rubbing, he does it all.

Gary, of course, argued he was not in pain.

"Are you fatigued?" the doctor actually asked.

"Oh, horribly.  I'm tired all the time."

"That's because you're in pain," the doctor actually said. "Are your hands numb?"

"Yes! My hands have been numb!" Gary said.

"Yes, that's the next stage," the doctor actually said. (This numb hands business, this was news to me.)

Eventually, the doctor convinced Gary that this was still the initial migraine, and clearly the Topamax is not working. Then they had a long chat about the seizure activity that Gary had from the Topamax. When Gary talks about his seizure activity, he starts to feel more seizure activity, so much so that they actually asked if he might want his wife to come pick him up.

"Wait," I interrupted him, "They actually said that?"

"Yes they did," Gary said, "But I just stayed in the waiting room until I felt well enough to drive."

=========================

So, the poor guy. On the other hand, the lucky guy, having a migraine without too much of a headache. Dr. Google says they're called silent migraines. Gary's got a prescription for Cymbalta now.

Tonight, when I suggested that since I had made risotto and cleaned up after the dog he might want to be the one to bring the cookies in from the kitchen, he answered:

"I will help you even though I am evidently in constant pain."

Spy Dog

Well, after much experimentation (and abandoning the inaccurate instructions) I got the dog spy camera up and running.

I regret to say that of 40 photos, only three were not of the darkness between the dog's chest hair and his pillow. Also, the dog camera doesn't work too well at night with low light.

I imagined this graininess to be Gary's chair:

... and I felt certain this was the food in the bedroom:

But it took me five minutes to determine what this was:

I thought the dog has climbed into the attic when my back was turned, then I realized it's the dog's eye view of the closet when I'm on the step ladder (the white frame.) the circular eye shape in the back is the truck jack I use to jack up heavy things.

I think I need to keep tweaking the body position -- maybe hanging from the side of his head, not the front. And of course, no more night vision photos.

I Thought it Was My Fault

I learned something about MS from Mitt and Ann Romney via the Ladies with Multiple Sclerosis for Newt Gingrich Facebook page.

Mitt Romney revealed to Chris Wallace on Fox:

[After Mrs. Romney's MS diagnosis] "She said 'I can’t cook any more'  ... And I said, look, I don’t care what the meals are like. You know, I like cold cereal and peanut butter sandwiches. We could do fine with that as long as we have each other."

None of my neurologists told me my cooking abilities would decline when I got MS. I guess that's the thorough treatment you get when you're a billionaire.

A Link I Must Share

Thanks be to Magpie Musing for sending this my way.

The premise is that Mitt Romney did not have the "sack" to dump his wife when she got MS. We need a president who will drop-kick that dead weight and move on! Like Newt!

Go here and enjoy the darkness.

 

Kinetoscope of the Backyard

I'll glance in the backyard several times a day. I spotted a robin a few days ago: a rare sight for winter. I never see much activity in the backyard.

I realized today it's because I never wait for it. It's like I'm glancing at movie stills instead of watching the movie. But today I was working at home and I spent ten minutes looking out the window.

At first I just saw the bird feeder, squirrel nut cage, finch feeder, and the box of peanuts on the ground.

A squirrel jumped down to the cylindrical nut cage and chewed at the nuts behind the chicken wire. I usually would say, "Nasty squirrel," and move on.

But I stayed put, and in two minutes there were three squirrels twined around the nut cage like the three graces, until one twitched a tail and they all made off to the neighbor's yards. They'd gotten the message that the woodpecker was hungry. This giant woodpecker, which Gary says looks like a prehistoric creature, moved like an insect along the tree until it got to the nut cage. It speared a nut and skittered back up the tree.

I lost sight of him because a flock of starlings descended on the tree, paused, folded their wings and plummeted to the ground. No attempt to flap. They all landed on their feet and pecked at the ground debris, except for a few that flapped back up to the feeders.

Then the starlings went after the squirrel's peanuts. The squirrel positioned itself by the corner of the house, came in half way across the yard, gave a chatter, and the birds rose up in concert while the squirrel ran alone across the yard, grabbed a peanut, held it in its teeth and tore back to the house.

After a minute the starlings hailed back down to the ground and it all started over. The squirrel claimed a peanut four times before the starlings gave up. The last time I watched the squirrel dig a hole, drop the final peanut in, and (something I've never seen) it pushed the earth back in to the hole and patted it down (with its rodent claws).

It ran back across the yard and then the yard was empty. I turned away. I thought the show was over. I looked back and there was a crow the size of a tricycle out there.

I think I'm going to go old lady and spend a half-hour each weekend day just watching the birds.

Boiling Water

Yes, it's a video of me boiling water on the new stove. (Cameo by Gary.)

Video takes two minutes. Water boils in one minute.

I then boiled 8 quarts of water in a stockpot in 17 minutes after that.

Of the roast (cooked with the roast probe and convection roast setting), and the of the Brussels sprouts and Gruyere potatoes, Gary said, "It's like when I got my trumpet in high school. It cost twice as much as my old trumpet and I couldn't play it. I had to learn how to play all over again."

Induction Obstruction

You want to know about the Girls Night Out to christen the new range?

The installer pulled out the old range, said, "I can't install your new range," Gary said, "I TOLD YOU THIS PARTY WAS A BAD IDEA" and I began making calls.

My old range is hard-wired to the house and the new one expects a place to plug in. Understandable. I should have stopped two weeks ago when the salesman asked if my plug was a three or four wire plug.

"I dunno."

"How old is your house?"

"Twenty four."

"It's a three-prong then."

Well, no, it's a no-prong, and I probably should have checked but I was filled with induction lust. (It drew me in like a magnet.)

The range got as far as my garage. The electrician who came out today said."Whoa. You''re upgrading!"

So, slowly, so so slowly, the range is nearing the kitchen. After it's turned on and heats something I'll reschedule the GNO.

The Nouveau-Faux School of Interior Design

Gary came to me yesterday morning. "Look what I did." He led me into the bathroom.

"Sweetie! You purged some of your Life & Style magazines from the magazine container!"

"And look! I unwrapped those Wired magazines I never read and added them!"

"You are so sweet! Our guests will think we're so smart!"

"Well ... I left in the Life & Styles. Where should I put this tube of vaginal ointment?"

"Just leave it out. I still need to use it."

"No, I have to put it away if people are coming over."

"Just throw it in the drawer by the toilet then."

"No. I can't put it there. You have women coming over. They might see it."

People: He put it in the drawer of our nightstand, the one that holds The Joy of Sex and the Lube. Just so you know.

He then complained the speaker system was off because I had insisted long ago the TV not be centered on the wall, but that it be off to one side to reflect that the TV is not the focus of all our attention. (A lie.) That was a permanent decorating falsehood, but there are all kinds of decorating tweaks I make when new people come over. The risotto is in the front of the pantry and the macaroni is in the back. The plastic-handled knives are hidden in shame inside a cabinet while the good knives are out.

The booze, however, is in a spectacular display spread across the counter.

What do you do to put your best face on your house?

This Is What You Get

Before the Drive to the In-laws

Gary: "Come on, let's get going. Come ON. Let's get the stuff in the car. Where's the pie? Did you get the pie we can't leave the pie go back in and get the pie. Are these all the gifts? Hurry up. Hurry we've got to get there I bet Karen's there already. Come on. Let's get a move on. Where's my hat. Come on!"

After the Drive to the In-Laws

Me: "Okay, we're at your parents!" (Turns off engine.) "Brr. My feet are cold. Did I forget my socks?" (Looks at feet.) "Well, yes I did. It also appears I'm wearing my slippers."

 

This dusting of snow has SHUT DOWN SAINT LOUIS

So I really wanted a drink but it's ten am ... So I got some pastries

There's a GNO in the Planning Stages

Caroline (#4) suggested there be a GNO to break in the new range, and then she suggested people bring uncooked food to share, and then she just dropped it in my lap.

"What about cocktails," I said, "Are there any 'magnet' or 'cooking' themed cocktails?" She shrugged, said ,"Sounds like a job for Google," and walked away.

I guess the rest is up to me. And by me, I mean us. Brainstorm!

So, I can picture people bringing those rolls of pre-made cookie dough, so we could play with convection. I do want to try out the roast timer feature, because I'm never encouraged to make roasts (since it's just us). 

We'll race to see which is fastest to boil: a cup of water in the microwave, a cup of water from the espresso machine, or a cup of magnetic water.

Or, and we need to put the broiler through its paces. All I can think to broil would be bagels. Or cinnamon toast. That's all we broil over here.

I guess we need to cook something with Kosher salt on the Sabbath setting. And I need to test out this "feature" that traps all the delicious cooking aromas in the oven. I can see that being a danger. Oh, and I need to keep it on overnight so it turns off on its own.

I'll tell you one thing I WON'T be doing, and that's hauling anything around in a 6 quart cast iron Dutch oven. I just hefted one tonight and empty it weighed 40 pounds.

Here are the only food / magnet / oven songs I have in my iTunes for the Party Mix:

Bangles - Eternal Flame
BNL- Stomach vs Heart
BNL - Aluminum
Boothby Graffoe - Sausage Fingers
Don't Talk, Dance - Sweet Beets
Kate Nash - Pumpkin Soup
Nellie McKay - Food

That's a pretty short list. I need suggestions.

Divide Me In Half, Put Me in A Greased Bowl, Flip Once and Cover Me with a Clean Towel

Some of you may recall my Hellish yeast infection from two years ago (see the Chronicles of the Holy Bleeding Cooter,  June '09  - January '10). My labia minora would swell and bleed and throb painfully, and it turned out to be a Yeast Infection, damnit, when I thought I had crotch cancer and I might be taken seriously.

Well, it's back.

Two years ago it would have been diagnosed swiftly and easily if I'd had the classic yeast infection symptom: Cottage Cheese Crotch, but it would seem my yeast infections are non-dairy. Come to think of it, most female reproductive systems are lacto-ovo vegetarian, mine is vegan. No eggs, no milk, no cottage cheese.

Birds

We got Ken and Wilma the Audubon bird camera for Christmas, and it has taken many entertaining photos of the four species of birds in their backyard.

At first we all fell into the "Christmas mouse" thinking - you see a mouse every couple of days in the winter; you think it's one mouse. "There's our Christmas mouse." When you have a seething mewling horde of two thousand vermin.

Much like "Oh, there's our groundhog."

So, all the wrens look the same, all the ground birds look the same, all the male cardinals look the same (outraged!), but the each female cardinal has her own stylist. One has a ratty crest, one has a chipped beak. Still they fit the standard form:

 

Then lo, we came upon a photo of a female cardinal that was a lot hotter than the others.

(These aren't the actual photos, but the best representations I could steal off the 'net.)

This new bird looked like a female cardinal who had been through the wash. She was at least 50% paler than the others. Wilma admired her greatly.

Ken said "She's a mulatto!"

This killed me, because Ken is almost ninety and I think some leeway is allowed, and at least he didn't say "She's an octoroon!" We steered the language away from that shortly after.

It did make me wonder if you can breed birds like you breed horses and dogs. Or perhaps I have seen the legendary albino cardinal.

Can you have a mixed bird?

How to Deal With a Ridiculous First World Problem

I got the iPhone 3Gs a few years ago for my birthday. Of course now there's the IPhone 4 with the wonderful Siri application.

Everyone loves Siri.

There are countless Siri Easter eggs, including the one that shows you the face of Siri. (You ask "What would you look like if you were a human being?")

Marcia asked Siri what the weather was like and Siri answered, "Brr." Right this instant I can bet you Marcia is asking Siri what she would look like if she were a human being. (UPDATE: No, this is BS. Dang.)

I don't have Siri or an iPhone 4s, I have an iPhone 3g. I also have a new range, new brakes, new rotors, a medicated dog and new lower A-frame bushings. (My diamond bra is too cold and it pinches.) So I am focusing on the brakes that don't squeak, the dog that poops solid material, and Siri's older stupid sister, Voice Control.

I clicked too long once and saw this screen, and I assumed it was a voice recorder. It beeped and I tried to record something like my car location or a shopping list. It began playing a Blondie song. I thought it was a coincidence.

Since then I've learned how to use it and I'm relieved to see many other people don't know what it's for. You wait for the beep and say, "Call Gary." Eek! It calls Gary. Well, on my phone anyway. I don't know what it would do on your phone.

There are all kinds of commands that float past on the screen, whcih I have never noticed until I found that screen grab above. Most are related to music, but calling instead of dialing is handy.

There's only one Voice Control Easter egg: just say "Steve Jobs." (Don't say "Call Steve Jobs" because then it will call Steve from work and you'll have to hang up fast.)

Onomatopoeia Post

Burp

After lunch I sat with my coworkers, discussing some lame spreadsheet I'd put together and that my boss had edited. The conversation went on too long, and eventually the focus turned away from me, but then -

"Ellen!" my boss said, "Is something wrong? What's wrong? What did I do to the spreadsheet?" She had noticed a peculiar look cross my face just as I clapped my hand over my mouth.

I didn't answer immediately, because I was considering if a lie was a good approach. It wasn't.

"I was stifling a burp."

Moan

Gary is on such a decline he is following the doctor's instructions regarding proper dosages, that's how sick he is. I drove him about a little today, since my car is in the shop, and he moans almost non-stop when he is around light: sunlight, car light, and the light shining off chrome on a custom Mini.

The poor guy. I hope kicking up the Topamax does him some good. It was working for a while before he turned against it.

Walla

I was reading online message boards last night as I tried to get my iPhone Gmail working. (The trick: turn the phone off and on again.)  There was a new slang word that kept showing up in message threads, to wit:

"I did all the steps for the two-step verification and set an application-specific password, and it worked. WALLA!"

"What is WALLA?" I wondered. "Is it like, 'White Girl's Holla?'"

I saw a few more WALLAs. It began to look like an acronym. I am all about using the acrolingo: BRB, FFS, WTF. Since I've been watching Breaking Bad I've had to stop myself from saying "Bounce." "Yo, catch you later bro, I gotta bounce." Or, I would probably just wave goodbye and say, "Bouncin'!"

After about ten minutes of reading message boards, voila, it hit me.

 

Stupid Iowa Caucus

I had a good day overall, in fact I had a work breakthrough and an iPhone Gmail breakthrough. If it were not for the hour from 5 to 6 and the hours from 7 to ... now ... I'd have had a great day.

5-6: I was tooling down the highway at 5 and ping! a light on my dashboard went on.

"That's the light that looks like my butt. What was that light again?"

Yes, it was the flat tire light. I was calm and CONTINUED DRIVING because last time this happened I drove a few miles on the service road. So I drove about four miles to the place I'd had the flat repaired last year, Dobbs.

If this ever happens to you, even if the tire doesn't look or feel flat, even if you've ridden a million miles before, just pull over. You will indeed tear up your tire no matter how minor the problem. The nice people at Dobbs found my mini midget spare tire and set me up to drive slowly to the Mini store tomorrow, where they keep the Mini tires.

I got home and looked at the clock and it was six. This set my problem into a tidy compartment, 5 - 6, and I have ignored it since then.

It was easy to ignore because at 7 I began watching the Iowa caucus. And it still goes on, and it may go on for months like Bush v. Gore. Gary took to bed at 8 after screaming "What? Two people have voted for Santorum? Are they crazy?" Yes, their names are Mabel and James, and they voted for Santorum. Absurd.

All this Iowa political dreck is cutting short the most hallowed holiday: Year In Review Week. I'ven seen no retrospectives.

However, I'm greatly enjoying the homoerotic tweets like "Will Santorum come from behind or pull out?"

I could be watching another episode of Breaking Bad right now, but I'm not.

I just saw Rick Santorum say "We won." By ... less than 50 votes? Damn you, Mabel and James. Or rather, bless you, because I'm just watching so I can imagine the winner in a debate with President O. 

Return of the Lost Bear

Remember the bears?

Remember, Gary and I would hide them around the house? See how there are six in the photo above? Well, at some point, they became five. I hid one somewhere so cleverly I lost it.

Well, since this is the last day of vacation, every nook and corner was cleaned, and in one nook was The Lost Bear.

That's an end table, and the bear is suspended upside down facing the wall.

Amazing the things I find during the Yearly Clean. I found a Lean Cuisine tray from last summer behind my guitars. Still, in addition to cleaning I did 18 of my 30 tasks, the ones I didn't do are at the extremes, like "Play guitar" and "Purge basement."