Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Memorial Day

I suppose Saint Valentine is in heaven (one assumes) and cringes when he hears, “Have a sexy Saint Valentine’s Day.”

Which is to say, again, people at work said, ”Enjoy your Memorial Day!”

I mean, to be fair, I am going to enjoy a day off, but still.

Moloch

I am always delighted when I learn something new. 

I am even more delighted when I learn something old — that is, something I should have learned a long time ago.

I mean, I certainly can see why my church just thumbed right past the sacrificial-baby-burning idol Molech in Leviticus and Kings.

But, here’s the thing, baby-sacrifice just doesn’t seem effective to me. I mean, in The Road, the people are hungry enough that they roast a baby, but that makes sense. Just doing the math here: eight pounds of baby would serve 11 people, Alexa says, so I guess if a hungry man had 10 hungry wives and got one of them pregnant every 28 days, then he could pretty much guarantee enough roast baby to have at least one satisfying baby meal a month for the whole harem.

But evidently the ancients wasted babies to Molech so often that they put one of those “do not drink floor cleaner” types of warnings in Leviticus. 

I just had no idea there was baby-roasting in the Bible. I did read the whole thing in junior high school  (even the begats): you would think I would have noticed. 

So if evangelicals are paying attention to Leviticus and Kings, it does kind of explain how 23% of the GOP supposedly believes that the current government eats babies.

Raw babies, though? Because that would be gross.

Alexa Is Listening

My duties at work involve updating the anti-money laundering course. It’s difficult, because to update a course one must understand the topic of the course, and while I watched the first two seasons of Ozark, I don’t quite understand money laundering.

When I ask questions, the experts cheerfully tell me they aren’t in the business of teaching people exactly how to launder money, but how to prevent it.

Well, I’ve been working on this course, and I was making a graphic about the process: not an exact representation of the process, but a general flowchart, and something clicked and I understand how it all works in detail, even the puzzling last stage. 

“Ohhhhh,” I sad, as you do when something clicks, “Now I see.”

”See what?” Gary asked.

”Money laundering. I get it. I could launder up some money right now.”

”Boop” the Alexa said,  as if she had been waiting for three years to catch me in a confession. 

It was pretty scary. I tried to take it all back but I could not.

Rewriting the Novel: Characters Decided the Break was Over

I have been taking some time off from the novel. I hit the midpoint, in which things go seriously south for the heroine, and I took a break because I felt it needed to settle. 

That was three weeks ago. For some reason all the characters woke up and said things in my brain this week. The waitress said a snide thing about the gambler. The neighbor made a remark about the radio. The heroine suggested we change the end entirely, which was surprising, but I will humor her.

Three weeks and the break is over, it would seem. At this rate it will be done in 2022.

Weekly Paint Progress: 5/27

This week the pansy went from this:

… to this.

The cliffs …

… got this far:

Old

A week ago I was telling the young neighbor about my 35 bruises. 

She said, “Oh really? Is that what happens to old people?”

I thought, “Really, girl?” Then I softened. I’m not old, but I am elderly-adjacent. Gary’s old. Well, he isn’t exactly old, but he looks old.

I stuck with that interpretation of reality for a week, until Gary needed an eyepatch for some eye nuisance that popped up, and then I realized that we are not only old enough to need an eyepatch but that we already HAVE an eyepatch, therefore, we are old.

 

Trunk

I think I’ve taken the Mini out seven times in the last month, and twice it has given me a warning message that my trunk is open. 

Bear in mind that I am sixteen years behind the rest of you in car technology, and most of you know why my trunk is mysteriously open. As I say, I am way behind, so I had to call the Mini dealer to find out what was going on.

Here is the key fob:

Top button is Unlock, the one with the logo is Lock, the one right below that is Open Your Damn Trunk Without Realizing It, and I’m afraid of whatever the bottom red button does. 

The man I spoke with was gracious enough to blame other elements in my purse for pushing the  trunk button, but I know my fat little fingers or my too-tight jeans pocket did it.

I Know I Just Talked About the Fox But Look How Gorgeous this Fox Is.

Look at the ears and the tail! Incredible.

Fox is paying us a visit once or twice a night every night now. Completely stole the show from the baby raccoons.

Gary’s Hair

When most vaccinated men are breaking their bubble to get a haircut, Gary is keeping his long hair.

He does accept that it’s untidy, though, so he found two solutions on Amazon.

One solution is an innovative little bead lasso marketed for women, so, a bold move:

The other is a manly-man’s hair band that is marketed for men, because men want hair bands that can hold up to 80 pounds.

If he is anything like me he will purchase a dozen solutions before he finds the irreplaceable one that works. He will use that one exclusively until it vanishes and destroys his world.

Gravy

I have a new staple. Garlic cream sauce. So, so garlicky. Head of garlic distilled down make garlic-infused cream studded with garlic and THEN FLAVORED WITH GARLIC POWDER because why the hell not. 

I put this on everything for two weeks. I just sniffed myself. I waft a nimbus of garlic in my wake.

Fair warning, the original recipe linked below begins with four pork chops, which have no purpose I can see but to add a layer of complexity to the garlic cream sauce. I used four chicken breasts instead the second time I made this, and then the third time I just upped the butter by a tablespoon. I did a taste test between a pork chop version and the extra tablespoon of butter version and I couldn’t tell the difference. 

• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 2 tablespoons butter 
• 1 whole head garlic 
• 1 tablespoon flour
• 1/2 cup chicken broth or stock
• 1/2 teaspoon lemon juice
• 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder (this cracks me up, because who added this after the whole head of garlic?)
• 3/4 cup heavy cream
• Fresh parsley chopped (so so optional - I fail to see the purpose of this. You won’t taste the parsley.)

Step 1.  
I take the whole head of garlic, chop off the top, put it on a square of foil, add a little olive oil, salt and pepper, wad it up, and roast it on the highest setting the air fryer has for 20 minutes. You could adjust that. I really don’t know what this would be in minced garlic numbers. I think this would be pretty bad with minced garlic from the jar.

Step 2.
While that’s cooling I measure everything out. I combine the chicken stick and lemon juice, and then the garlic powder (hahaha seriously) and cream. Then I dismantle the head of garlic, you know, do that thing where you squeeze the garlic heads out of the papery skins. Then I wash my hands.

Step 3. 
Heat the olive oil and butter at medium heat and lightly brown the garlic (they say three minutes). Don’t burn it. Scoot all the garlic to one side of the pan, and toss the flour over the butter on the other side of the pan so you donor end up with floury garlic. Stir it and cook that a minute or so until it makes a roux.

Step 4. 
Mush up the garlic heads with a fork if you are a delicate princess, then gradually add the chicken stock /Lemon juice combo, as you do with a roux, then stir in the cream / garlic powder combo. Cook that down until it’s really thick and bubbly, but don’t boil it. 

Taste it and add salt and pepper, if you need to. It gets a bit thicker in the fridge. 

Slather it on pork, catfish, chicken, scrambled eggs, sausage and biscuits.

Legit recipe is here on Salt and Lavender 

More Work Shenanigans

So, the new thing at work is to be vulnerable. Bosses, executives, co-workers, we must all be vulnerable so that we can trust each other.

It feels very awkward to be in front of people and talk about my purpose in life and my greatest fears and what shaped who I am today. 

Jerry gets a lot of heat, or course, for ditching us, in fact he gets all the heat, and I’ve said that he was verbal and loving and then said we weren’t worth the $100 each in child support, so that’s why I don’t respond well to compliments and can’t talk to bosses about bonuses and raises without tearing up.

I had to make that song and dance again this last week, and there was an extra bonus question. Beyond “What affected you most as a child?” We were asked “What affected you most as an adult?” I said, “Well, getting MS - because it turned me into my father, everything I hate, someone who is overly emotional and talks without thinking.”

That surprised me. Still not as much as having an entire four hour work meeting devoted to childhood trauma, because that’s how the Kids Roll Today.

Babies!

The raccoon babies are here three weeks early this year!

They are allowed back down to pretend to eat.

Later the fox comes by and chases the mouse. No taste for baby raccoons.

Weekly Paint Progress: 5/20

This week the pansies went from this:

… but wait. I happened to remember that’s from the book that tells you step-by-step what to do. Wow, did I go far afield.  Whoops.

But that was the plan, right? To go my own way?

… so now it’s this:

The next project? I have no more off-color salt shakers. I do have some miniature figurines, or I could do one of the more challenging step by steps. 

… like this one:

 

Gary and the Car

Gary has not embraced the car. Well, he has not embraced driving the car. He did drive it last Monday, but he was hesitant. He claims it’s because he knows every mile he drives takes up one percent of the battery. 

I see his point - I drive to Florissant and back and discover that I’m at 50%, which is fine - but plugging it in at home takes over a day to top it off again. He hasn’t seen how easy it is to charge up on the road, so he feels like he’d be stranded.

To ease that anxiety we visited a level 3 road charger Monday night, and everything went wrong.

1. EVGo charging card had not been activated.
2. Another car pulled in right after we did so she was waiting, adding to the stress.
3. Gary is familiar with how it feels to breathe in sulphuric gas, because batteries in his  mainframe computer room leaked once, and he said this battery was leaking sulphuric acid, and he choked and coughed violently.

So, we left with the same level of stress, if not more.

To alleviate his fuel stress we decided to accelerate our plan to put a level 2 charging station in our garage. I did notice that there is one application you can use that will tell you where the nearest charger is - and it is a house two miles away. Does this mean that people will arrive and ask to charge up? Awkward.

Review: The Death of Stalin

I don’t know who marketed the movie The Death of Stalin when it came out four years ago, but either they were an idiot or a genius.

I didn’t see a trailer, but I saw a clip of the council of Ministers rushing to fawn on Stalin’s daughter, and it struck me as a drama. I think I might have seen the clip on CNN because it was banned in Russia. Plus, it was showing all the Serious Theaters in town, and even though it had Steve Buscemi and Jeffrey Tambor in it, I thought, well, it’s all those actors who do comedy and drama both (probably why I thought Steve Carrell was in it) … and … and … no. 

It is a comedy, but it’s so dark that I kept taking it seriously. That’s when they got me.  

 

Pink Laptop

I thought I could come to the blog to find out how old my pink laptop is - all I see is a reference to Gary having paid it off in May of 2009. 

It held on until May of 2021, so 12 years. It did need the lid replaced once. But, the CD tray went out when I had two more un-streamable  CDs to burn, dang it. 

It has joined the other old computers in the basement PC graveyard, waiting for the resurrection when cyberattacks make all technology obsolete and we go back to pre-cloud Windows 7.

Responds How?

So I saw this commercial for a “smart bed” that responds to snoring.

At first I thought, so how does the bed respond to the snoring? Does it rattle you awake? Toss you off the side? Then I saw the head tilt graphic. So if someone snores because he has, let us say, sleep apnea, it will raise his head so that his airway isn’t as obstructed? Wouldn’t that wake him up? 

I’d mention it to Gary, but he snores so consistently that the thing would keep elevating until he was folded in half like a toddler’s PB&J. 

Foxes

Yesterday, Gary checked some old unseen backyard videos, and he reported the foxes are back. The one in the first few seconds is checking to see if lamb and rice dog food is still in the menu.

Rabbit is on the menu in the last second for the second fox.

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Related: Bears of Saint Louis. The bears continue to migrate north from South County. St. Louis’ most recent tourist bear started 30 miles south in Pacific. Not sure where he is today.

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Today, Gary said, “I’m going to check the latest video and check for any more fox visits.” 
I said, “You want foxes to visit, you’ll have to feed them rabbit. They won’t be interested in peanuts.”

Wrong! 

(Ignore the scene-stealing spider.)

 

Wires

Maybe I have a little Joan Crawford in me, but I find this unacceptable:

This mess is behind the monitor on Gary’s computer desk. Usually I steer clear of his little hoarder haven, but I needed a big monitor for a work task. I was finally able to find the monitor cable after I gave up and left the room twice.

(He’s not really a hoarder. He’s just more disorganized than I am. I keep following mom’s advice: men don’t need a mother, they need autonomy.)

Weekly Paint Progress: 5/13

This week the salt shakers went from this:

to this:

Large areas are wrong but some parts are right, so it’s a wash and I am stopping. 

[LATER] I realize now I didn’t paint in the salt shaker holes on her salt shaker breasts, so now she just looks like a naked women posing amid giant salt shakers. I like the idea that in the 2090s someone will find this at a garage sale and not understand it at all.

The pansy went from this:

to this:

Some Nice Covid Etiquette

One of our team leaders at work announced a retirement, and because everyone is fully immunized, the retiree wants to have an in-person retirement party. 

The remarkable thing was that he immediately followed that with “However, I am aware that some people have medical conditions that make it so can’t they are still at risk even if they are immunized, so their suffering continues.”

I know, he chose the word suffering, which sounded overly dramatic (the party probably won’t be THAT good) but it was nice he was aware not everyone is in the 100% safe boat.

I would have thought he was speaking directly to me, but I know better. When I told my boss about my inadequate vaccine situation, he was adamant that if I wanted anyone else to know that I’d have to be the one tell them. This non-secret would go to the grave with him.

I suppose it’s an HR rule. Some people are very private about illness, and the boss who discusses any illness would be seen as … a health gossip? 

At any rate, I felt that the disclaimer for the vaccine-impaired was very polite. 

Things I Have Discovered While Curating My Music

I’ve been adding my early music collection to Amazon Music. Man, there are a lot of nineties songs, which is odd given that I made the list in the mid-2000s. I still have the late aughts and 2010s to go. There were a few surprises.

• There ia a Barenaked Ladies song I didn’t know about. I mean, I know there are some that I am saving for when I am old and in the home, along with the pot, but I had no idea that 20/20 Hindsight was out there.
• I have three different songs all called Bang Bang: Cher, Liz Phair, Jessie J.
• I found almost everything on Amazon Music, with the exception of two Nellie McKay songs, Cowboy Moth’s Voodoo Shoppe album, and the BNL drummers side project: Don’t Talk, Dance.
• Someone at Amazon Music does not know how to alphabetize.

 

The Bears are Back in Town

Remember how last summer was the summer of Bruno the bear? Bruno the black bear was in my neighborhood looking for a mate.

Well, a bear has been seen in the Saint Louis area, two days in a row, (no make that three, now there’s a photo on Facebook putting the bear in Brentwood). So, perhaps it’s two or three bears, and perhaps last year’s bear Bruno was a scout, doing recon for future bear missions. (Maybe he’s done that ever since he was a cub Scout.)

Evidently the bear situation is so bad they are opening up bear season later to select people. Watch out, bears. You can find sanctuary in my backyard.

LATE BREAKING UPDATE: the bear spent too long up a tree and they shot him with a tranquilizer gun and carried him off to a farm upstate. Well, I don’t know where he is.

All I know is I got a lot of delight out of the constant reminders: “Do not take selfies with the bear.”

Looks Like I Picked a Good Day to Buy an All-Electric Car

Cyber-criminals have attacked the U.S.’s biggest oil pipeline. From the Wall Street journal article:

“Inventories of gasoline have been readied for the summer driving season and usually get replenished every five to six days. … The fuel artery is critical to supplying the northeastern U.S. and other markets, and extended shutdowns of the pipeline have caused fuel prices to jump in previous years. … An outage lasting more than five days could have sharp consequences for fuel supplies.”

Then they quote an expert:

“If you were looking at the top 20 public targets that you could really wreak havoc with by screwing with the software, the Colonial Pipeline is in that group … It’s a big deal.” 

Hah! Not for me.

CD Dismay

Yes, yes, the rest of you converted all your CDs to digital ten years ago. There’s no CD player in the new car, I am late to the game. They are finally forcing me into the future.

It’s a big adjustment, trading physical stuff for digital stuff. I was going to burn every CD we own to iTunes and then somehow get them to Apple Music or Amazon.

I was steeling myself to pitch it all at the end and Gary reminded we that we can play CDs on our blu-ray still. 

I was indignant we would have to re-purchase everything digitally, but looks like I’ll be piggybacking on the Amazon Prime and then using iTunes to get rarities on a Flash drive for the car’s USB hub.

It doesn’t look like a lot, does it? But it’s years of choices. I feel like a hoarder being asked to clean out her house. The thousands of decisions. The emotions. 

Have you done this? Was it this hard for you? 

Fish Game

The new electric Mini Cooper has a built-in game.

If you get in, activate the voice commands, and say, “My mini! Activate! Minimalism!” then it shows you a graphic of a fish in a fishbowl, and if you waste electricity while driving, the water sloshes out of the fishbowl and the fish is dismayed. You can see the non-electric version in action here.

My newer one is a little more 3-D.

I have looked at my efficiency data already with the iPhone app and I am 3 out of 5. Of course now I want to see that in fish terms. 

Of course what I really want to do is see if I can kill the fish.

I gave it a shot yesterday. When I drove like a old lady, the fish leapt out of the bowl and caught a star. When I floored the accelerator, the fish’s mouth gaped open in horror, and an image of a foot flooring an accelerator popped up on-screen. 

But flooring it is soooooo satisfying. No gearing up, no shifting, you’re just suddenly I n warp speed with no waiting. I am afraid my fish is going to be very unhappy with me.

Weekly Paint Progress: 5/6

This week the salt shakers went from this:

...to this:

My goal is to paint as realistically as possible with the fewest amount of strokes. I need to stop looking at what’s there and paint what should be there. In the salt shakers some parts look real and parts are a cartoon. The far left and far right sides are okay, but the belly and left leg are ridiculous.

(Bear in mind she’s a salt shaker set. She’ll only look so real. Gravity-defying breasts are just what I’m working with; don’t blame me. You couldn’t have realistic breasts for the salt and pepper.)

I need to find a new subject for the alternate painting. No forced perspective, no peonies. I think I’ve been saddened by doing the walkthroughs and seeing my painting is weak compared to the goal painting. So this time I’m copying an unsophisticated painting and seeing if I can make it better.

The new goal:

 

Uh - oh

This thought just crept into my head:

”You know, I bet pottery’s an interesting hobby.”

That’s some trouble brewing.

Herd Immunity

I heard on the news last night that scientist say the U.S. might not ever reach herd immunity. (It’s what I herd. Snort.)

This discourages me. I suppose it means I’ll always have a 25% chance of dying from the covid if I leave my bubble and encounter a virus. 

(By the way, if I were you I would have just thought, “Didn’t she just go out in public and buy a car?” Yes I did, and my mask can only do so much. Judge away.)

Perhaps the globe will start behaving as if they have a stake in the global pandemic and begin sanctioning the U.S. — no more Japanese televisions or South American oil until we flatten all our curves.

Then I wondered how many of the people resisting the covid vaccine are also resisting the flu shot, and if perhaps the flu shot could just combat Flu Type A, B, and now a little C for Covid.

Actually, I don’t remember it, but after the swine flu non-global pandemic it seems they started tossing in a little swine flu vaccine in there for H1N1.

That’s just what we need. Keep it on the down-low and next fall all those patriots who feel a covid shot limits their liberties might get some extra MRNA with their flu vaccine. 

Then again, do patriots get flu shots? Only 40-50% of us even get the flu vaccine. 

I don’t know. I’m grasping at straws.

Bruised

I was at my physical and the doctor asked me about my five bruises. “Yardwork.” I said.

That was early last month. Now I have 36 bruises. I didn’t even know about the ten on the back of my right arm; Gary had to ask why I have ten tiny bruises in a row. And 11 on my left leg, and 11 on my right leg, and then a few — four — on my left arm. 

Doctors know, though. They want me back for a repeat thyroid test in three months because the standard test shows some wonkiness. I have been waiting for years for that organ to peter out: during one of my two MS flare-ups there was a lesion too close to whatever brain part controls that system and the resident were quite surprised (and perhaps a little disappointed) that I wasn’t having thyroid problems. 

It might be Hashimoto’s disease, when the immune system attaches the thyroid, because sometimes a white blood cell wants a bit of variety in its diet of axonal myelin. I would think the pills I take for the MS would keep the immune cells away from my thyroid just as the same as they do when they guard my central nervous system. 

It certainly explains the three-month weight-loss plateau. Or, perhaps it’s just a fluke in the blood test and I really beat myself up gardening. 

My Friday Night

I start a new project Monday, and I wanted to finish up my old project before I get absorbed in the new one. I worked on it all day Friday, and then all evening Friday, and then from midnight to 5:30 a.m., when I got two hours of sleep.

At about two a.m. I remembered the conversation I’d had earlier with the stakeholders. “Oh it’ll be a snap. Four hours at the most.” Hubris. Hu. bris. 

At three a.m., I remembered I was the only one in a hurry for this to be done, so I shut everything down and tried to go to sleep. 

At three-thirty a.m. I realized I was still working in my head, and it wouldn’t stop until I finished the last “little bit.”

Again, remember, no one wants this done but me. I am both slave driver and slave. When the birds began chirping I was still at the last little bit, thinking if I got it done then I could enjoy my weekend.  And guess what, I finished, but I didn’t test it as thoroughly as I should have. So, it’s not done.

Mammary Glands

I was working out in the yard, and evaluated my sweat level. Was it shower-worthy sweat? It was just underboob sweat, not all-over sweat. 

“That makes sense,” I thought. “They are sweat glands.”

And then an earworm burst into my head, finally free after decades of waiting for me to connect the Gland neuron to the Breast neuron.

Here it is, in case you’ve had better things push this 80s song out of your head.