Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Earring Overdose

On Monday, I went out to buy a pair of gold hoop earrings.

I bought a gold pair, and snatched up a silver pair on sale as I checked out.

I hadn't found any of these newfangled collar or climber earrings. "No problem," I said, "I'll just get some on Macy's online."

And then the snowball started rolling.

A collar and climber at Macy's.

Another two at Overstock.

Two more at Amazon.

Who am I kidding, I said, and then bought ten pair, TEN PAIR, from eBay.

None of them were over four bucks. Well, eight bucks. Maybe one was ten. I tried to keep it classy. With the exception of one pair of fish, and, okay, the elephant heads, no earrings look like anything but earrings.

I eventually stopped after page 75 of used earrings.

And now that they are all displayed in front of me, I see that I put the "costume" in "costume jewelry." Not a single classy pair, except maybe the square crystal Nordtrom's ones that were too boring for the original buyer to take out of the packaging.

I'm only halfway through the three months of healing. This does not bode well.

Backyard Wildlife Secrets Exposed

It has been a long, long Birthday month here at King Gary's castle. Most years Gary invokes Birthday Month playfully. This year Birthday Month has become an entitlement, evidently, given the way he cuts me off with a gesture and "Birthday MONTH!" Outraged tone and all. The inalienable right to Life, Liberty, and A Birthday Month.

His big birthday gift was the upgraded Wildlife Camera. Our old camera pooped out after five years of service, just in time for the new model that takes nighttime video.

We've always enjoyed the night photos of the racoons, deer, opossums, and skunks, but the video reveals the full story, which is that  ... these animals are not friends. Sure, they look like buds when you see a photo of them sharing some peanuts, but the video reveals the body language. The peanut buddies are on the verge of throwing down.

So, there's been a few days of seeing skunks with bloody head wounds, and raccoons antagonizing each other (Presenting your butt to anothor raccoon seems to start lots of fights, so, just note that in your raccoon preparedness manual,) That's why it was nice to spot this exchange of nuzzles.

 

Friday Freakout late March

Ugh. It seems I fall into tears every single day now. Still, the trigger is always the same: someone else gets emotional, and I'm like a dry bit of brush catching fire from the superheated air.

There was one episode at work that which I was able to control, but I still felt the rage flash. Outside of work, happily, there are only a few people I have to deal with who have the emotional self control of a yappy dog. I need to find a way to avoid the yappy dogs.

Of course, Gary always displays every emotion, and then amplifies every emotion. Tears always flow around Gary, whether it's a new argument or a new twist on old arguments.

I can't really ask the rest of the world to stop expressing their emotions. All right. As of this moment I'm calling the ob-gyn Monday for some hormones.

-----------Moments later:

I just announced my intention to Gary and he asked, "Why? You seem to be doing better."

Zoo Part 3: Bird

There's a bird in The Bird House with whom I converse whenever I visit the zoo.

It is one of the Hornbills and over its beak it seems to have grown a kazoo.

It is next to the toucan not quite by the door, and each time I see it I squawk.

In response every time it squawks right back at me, as if it is trying to talk.

We stood under the toucan, just one bird away. My husband then waved at the bough.

"Here's that bird that you talk to. This toucan right here," he said, just a smidgen too loud.

I could tell that a stranger was listening nearby. "My bird's not the toucan," I sighed.

I then stepped to the right and I SQUAWKED at my bird, who SQUAWKED in return in reply.

Though the stranger's reaction was one of surprise, I exited without a word.

True, I scored many cool points but I must confess, I wished I could high-five my bird.


 

Zoo Part 2: Polar Bear

What really drew us to the zoo was the new polar bear. If you go, look for the bear at McDonnell Polar Bear Point. Not McDonnell-Douglas Polar Bear Point. Not even Boeing Polar Bear point. I can only guess that Sanford McDonnell funded the project before he died in 2012.

You know how at the zoo some bears are sleepy, some bears are bored, some bears pace compulsively? (I'm looking at you, Spectacled Bear.) Not this bear. The new polar bear, Kali, is the most elated bear I have ever seen.

Perhaps we just saw him on a good day. It was the last day of winter, and it was chilly. I don't know how perky he'll be when it's 101 and sticky. He has an open-air enclosure, but there are a number of swimming areas that I assume are full of chilly water.

When we came up to the first viewing area he was above ground, teasing the assembled crowd of fifteen. He would climb up to the highest rock, right next to the water. Then he'd crouch as if he were about to dive, crouch more, tense, quiver, then say, "Screw this" and amble off the platform. He did this six times before finally belly-flopping into the water, at which point the crowd screamed. I almost high-fived a stranger. Then. everyone ran off to the underwater viewing area.

We didn't, and we got to see him climb out a minute later and go find some joint of flesh that still had some meat on it. He went back to the high rock, tossed the joint in the water and dove in to "catch" it. After he got it, he surfaced, and tossed it backwards over his head back in the water and back-flipped to go after it.

Well, then we had to watch this production from the underwater viewing area. He was all paws. Giant paws slapping on the glass to get traction. Enormous paws pulling through a backstroke. The paw size might have been exaggerated by the way the water magnified everything. When he was half out of the water you'd see a tiny bear head offset by two feet from a huge bear body.

He suddenly left, and we weren't quick enough to see him go to the next area, the barren tundra (which is Mississippi river clay topped off with piles of ice cubes). When we arrived Gary remarked on how fast Kali got there, and a little boy turned and said "He ran!" From the look on the boy's face I could just picture it. 

There was no question of why he ran, he was face-first in a pile of blubber or salmon or something else we couldn't see.

I cannot wait until we get him a girlfriend.

Zoo Part 1: Train

Once or twice a year we visit the world-famous St. Louis zoo. Second best of all zoos, best free zoo. Of course, our visit to the free zoo cost us fifty bucks, with parking, lunch, and passage on the train.

THE TRAIN

I usually see the Zoo Train as the object blocking my way to the bathroom. However, early in our visit we saw a toddler cutting through gardens and dodging gates, determined to get to the train.

(I should note here that "Zoo Train" is not the official name, it is "Emerson Zooline Railroad," in honor of its sponsor, Emerson Electric. It will take you all the way from the Enterprise Rent-A-Car Family Sea Lion Landing to the Monsanto Insectarium. This is why it's a free zoo. I couldn't find my employer's name on anything. Perhaps now that we've taken the name off the empty football stadium we can get naming rights to a zoo exhibit. I'd campaign to name the new grizzly bear habitat, but the St. Louis based Build-a-Bear will probably nab that one.)

Gary remembered being on the train when he was a child, which would have been more than fifty years ago. "I've never been on the train," I said. Gary, bless him, fought past his natural fear of looking like a pedophile and took me for a ride on the kiddie-packed train. We shared a seat because I recently lost over forty pounds: had I not we could not have been so cosy.

That train was a revelation.

First off, at least a fourth of it is underground. There was a metal tunnel, a plain cement tunnel, and a tunnel decorated with a mural of scampering tigers.

Second, while you are above ground, at one point it trundles through "Elephant Woods," which you can only see FROM THE TRAIN. We saw an elephant feeding from a manger. Evidently even viewing an elephant in the woods is not guaranteed, because from the little bit I read about it on the zoo website, Elephant Woods appears to be a leisure resort for elephants. And its full name is just "Elephant Woods."  It isn't tagged with a St. Louis business name, because you've paid for the train ticket. It's like cable tv: you've paid up front, so no commercials. 

 

It's Baa-aack

This car got sick the day after Thanksgiving. Three and a half months ago. We took it in - what - two weeks ago? I really can't complain that it took two weeks to fix since we let it sit in the garage for months.

Gary says it drives like a new car, and no lights came on. I asked him to drive it home, because if any lights came on I would lose my mind and drive it into an embankment.

They did give us ten percent off the parts and labor for our aggravation. The thing that was evidently so hard to diagnose was a bad cylinder. Why on earth a bad cylinder could cause the dynamic stability control light to come on I don't know.

I may try driving it somewhere today. I still feel a little betrayed.

Friday Freakout: False Hope

Yesterday I was in the car with Gary, and I was thinking how long it had been since my hormones took over and made me into a menopausal monster. A whole week and a half! I decided if I could go a month I could consider myself cured.

I was at peace.

Not twenty seconds later I flipped out because Gary changed into the wrong lane.

Early Morning

For some reason I woke up at four am, just in time to hear Gary go to bed. God only knows what he does till four in the morning. Well, actually, I know what he does till four in the morning.

At any rate, we decided since we were both up at four it was time to get breakfast.

So, now it's six and I just got back from breakfast, and I have to kill an hour before I can go to work.

Gary is tickled pink that we went to breakfast. "It's so spontaneous! Excitement!" I suppose after days of the drudgery of sleeping all day, a man needs something to break the routine.

Bunny Throwdown

Easter is coming. This means Gary will buy out all the Lindt bunnies at the grocery. We were at the Shop-n-Save and not only did I see Lindt bunnies slumming it there, but I also saw Ghiradelli bunnies of equal stature AND Godiva bunnies too. I pointed out there are other brands of chocolate Easter bunnies that might give the Lindt bunnies a run for their money. Time for a Throwdown.


This is how it all fell out.

ELLEN'S OPINION

All bunnies tasted identical. Lindt is the only one wearing a real red ribbon. Style points put Lindt over the top. Lindt wins.

GARY'S OPINION

Gary divided his opinion into two categories: Big Bites and Small Bites.

At first it was simple. If you took small bites, this is how it fell out:

Lindt - (red bow) - win
Ghiradelli (white wrapper) - place
Godiva - (gold wrapper) - show

But then, Gary noticed the Godiva's ears were almost solid chocolate. He bit off the entire head in one bite and decided the taste was affected by how big the bite was.

So, if you take a big bite, this is the ranking:

Ghiradelli - win. He felt the taste of this bunny was more complex, more delicate, more "notes of vanilla," but you couldn't tell unless you crammed your entire maw with bunny.
Godiva - place
Lindt - show

I feel I take my bunnies in small but steady, inexorable bites, plus: style points, so I would recommend the Lindt, but Gary can taste the subtle distinctions. Take it as you will.

Friday Freakout

Today I removed all the staples holding the torn leather on the loveseat, because the loveseat has two issues: the broken down upholstery and the torn leather, and no one works on both. So I have to present the tradesmen with separate issues.

I thought Gary would freak out when he saw the upside down loveseat, but he didn't. He instead bottled it up until he needed a bandaid and they were six inches from where he expected them to be.

But did I lose it, as I now do when he gets emotional?

No I did not. I laughed at him and eventually found the band aids.

Perhaps this is the end of the hysterics. Mine, anyway.

Glamour

Monday morning I trudged in to work, and Friend #2 came by to say that someone they were counting on for a training video shoot couldn't make it, and could I fill in?

Sure. I like video shoots, as long as I NEVER EVER view the finished product. Recently I was passing someone's desk as they happened to have my face emoting away on screen, and I had to reprove them for breaking my streak of never seeing my face on camera.

I had to drive half an hour to get to the shoot. I knew they were waiting on me. I figured I'd walk in, read off a teleprompter, then come back. The video shoots I've been to are fairly low key.

I walked in to this video shoot, ready to go, get this show on the road, and they said, no, you have to go in to hair and makeup.

I laughed at them. And then I saw that this was not the usual video shoot. They had a hair and makeup lady, catered food, a professional actor, costumes, lights, cameras ... just waiting on me for the action.

Let me tell you, I documented what the hair and makeup lady did. Of course, I would have needed 20 different shades of powder to do the same. 

She spent five minutes on the bags under my eyes. She didn't use any mascara, which made me feel better about never using mascara myself. I was also gratified to see that we used almost the same shade of lipstick, and that she didn't go heavy on my eyebrows

She also did a lot of work on my hair, and it looked much the same when she was done. So, if a professional can't make it look any better, then I feel comforted.

Eventually she gave up, and I went on to say my lines and try not to look too adoringly at the gorgeous professional actor across from me.

Afterward, I didn't want to waste the free professional makeup, so I went out to eat with Gary and we exceeded our personal best for dinner expenses -- but, I was a celebrity for a day and I had to live it up.

 

Mini Update

As you know, after keeping the car in the garage for four months and saving up what I imagine it will cost to get it fixed, we took the Mini back to the dealership last week. They called after three days to tell us they hadn't had a chance to look at it yet. So, that's better, that's more honest at least.

I said before I was civil to the Mini people, but only after I made a cutting remark to an employee on the parking lot. The building is surrounded by major roads and has doors on all sides. I asked the employee where the service entrance was (you'd think after ten years I'd know), and she said "In the front." So. My remark wasn't very clever, I just repeated "In the front," in a deadly tone, and she said "Oh. I guess that wasn't very helpful." It was then that I realized I should just be quiet and let Gary deal with everyone.

That's why when they called with an update I stopped them until I could hand the phone to Gary. Evidently they think all the problems are caused by a bad valve. They have to send it off to the place that does their valve repairs. I took a little satisfaction in the idea that someone would have to drive a long distance with a worrying Service Engine Soon light and a rattly idle, but I was reminded it's probably just going to the BMW shop across the street.

The plan is to nurse the Mini along for a few years unitl the Tesla 3 arrives. Gary has stopped talking about replacement cars now that I've dangled a more affordable Tesla in front or his nose.

Friday Fish Fry

It amazes me that my husband, who shudders at fish for all but 40 days a year, craves Catholic fried fish every Friday in Lent.

And the fish must be Catholic. We pass a Protestant church that has a Friday Fish fry, and we tried it last week. We made it to the end of the line and realized we had an hour wait in front of us. Gary suddenly became very insistent and whispered that this fish was not Catholic, he didn't know, but where was this money going to, and then we found out the fish was free and WE CANNOT TAKE CHARITY ELLEN WHAT and then we had to leave.

A Clever Political Parlay

Here's my theory about the madness that is this year's political race.

Ann Romney said she refused to participate in any more campaigns, and that if Mitt campaigned in '16 he'd be running as the country's first divorced Mormon candidate.

I'd have used quotation marks around that, but I can't find any truly credible source. She did say were done done done. 

My theory is that to spare the wife and kids more stress, knowing that the campaign sets off Ann's MS, he has choreographed this crazy reality show starring Trump. The final scene is the brokered convention. Deals will be made, he will be the nominee, and Ann won't have to have campaigned at all.

Friday Freakout

This week Gary and I both really lost it on Wednesday, when we were headed to see a tax accountant.

Two things:

1. See a tax accountant. I've spent the last few days amending old tax returns I did with TurboTax. TurboTax deceives you, people. You shut off your brain because you think Ol' T.T. will do all the math for you, and it does not. It does almost all the math, then it doesn't bother to multiply the cost basis by the number of shares sold, and you are too confident in T.T. to check its math.
2. Sometimes it's nice to drive somewhere in a car screaming at each other,  because one of you made assumptions about which Bread Company the tax accountant was waiting in. I felt a little better about my rage, since Gary met me scream for scream.

On the other hand, there was one hysterical outburst this week that had us again considering low-dose hormones. Here's my question: won't the low-dose hormones just delay the problem? I can see taking them to get my mood swings under control, but let's say I take them for five years to pump myself full of the soothing lady hormones. When I get off them, won't I then be with the hormones again and in wild hysterical hormonal mood swings?