A few sad things

The first sad thing:

Our friends Tyler and Megan have a bunny named Ginger. As a matter of fact it's their fault that we have any bunnies at all because they got theirs first and it was just so stinkin' cute I had to have one of my own.

Anywho, Tyler and Megan wanted to breed Ginger before they had her spayed. I'm not sure why and I didn't ask questions. We just supplied the stud in the form of Milton. There really wasn't a choice here as Brunswik has already been fixed. I didn't post about it here because it's kind of a delicate subject. I'll just say that on my end it was much funnier than passionate. Ginger body slammed Milton a few times in the process. I guess she just wanted to establish the rules before she gave up the goods.

Look at this face.
Why wouldn't you want more of
these running around?

Everything went according to plan and Ginger had reached her maximum number of gestation days this week. Tyler and Megan got concerned that she hadn't had bunnies, so they made an appointment to have her induced. How crazy is it that they can induce a bunny?

Andy called me tonight and told me that they have induced her and so far she has had two bunnies. Both of the bunnies are dead. Apparently, it's common for bunnies to have their first litter and for all the babies to die.

How freakin' sad is that? If all the bunnies die I might cry. I'll keep you updated.

The second sad thing:

I'm pretty sure my car is sending me a message. That message is: "Why don't you just let me die a quiet death and find another car to torment for the next 10 years?"

I've had my car since the spring of 1999. It's 18 years old. It has over 200,000 miles. And I think it's ready to retire.

Remember back when my alternator died? Well, ever since then there have been a slew of small problems. All things that were easily fixed and usually cost little to no money, but now the new alternator is having issues. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. I know what your thinking; it's been less than two months since we put that sucker in. Return it and get a new one right? Well, yes, that does seem like the obvious fix, and Andy thinks that perhaps a wire is just loose.

I just can't help but think maybe there is something else going on under that hood besides a faulty alternator. The ole' Jeep just doesn't have the same pep in it's step anymore. It's been a long happy journey (pun intended) with my car, but I think it's about time to make a change. And that makes me really, really sad. I will definitely cry when I have to give it up. (It pains me to even type it now.) I'll probably be inconsolable for a while, and whatever car takes the place of my old jalopy will have to do some serious work to earn my respect and live up to it's predecessor.

For now though, my response to my car is this: "Just hang in there a little longer old friend. If I can ever find a full time job on this gosh forsaken mountain I'll do my best to let you die respectably and not go out in a blaze of glory."

The following is a video from a favorite Gilmore Girls episode. Ok, really all of them are my favorites. But this one is relevant because this is pretty much exactly how car shopping will go for Andy and I. I couldn't find the clip that I wanted by itself. The only relevant part starts at 2:12 and ends around 6:56, so you can fast forward if you want. Or if you just love Gilmore Girls as much as I do, go ahead and watch the whole thing. Also, you have my permission to go ahead and start feeling sorry for Andy.



The third sad thing:

Today Andy went to the coffee shop and got me a medium mocha latte. We were both working today, so I took a little break and went up to his office to drink my coffee.

Somehow, and don't ask me how because I'm still trying to figure it out, I spilled my coffee all over myself, and when I say all over I mean it; there was even coffee in my hair. And to answer your next question, yes it had a lid on it.

Thankfully we live about a quarter of a mile from the shop. I had to go home and change my entire outfit.

This is sad for two reasons. The first being that a lot of really good coffee was wasted today on my clothes. The second is that I am a grown woman who apparently can't have a morning cup-o-joe without soiling herself.

I didn't cry, and I won't, but I still think that's really sad.

The amazing flaming oven

A few posts back I mentioned something about pouring water in an electric oven and promised to fill you in. I've been meaning to post about it for a while, but I've been to lazy to sit down and write this story out. Finally I decided to make it a two parter because there are two stories that need to be told and I don't want to condense either of them. So here's the first part.

Every now and then Andy and I go through a funk in the kitchen. Meaning that neither of us wants to have to cook and clean up so we end up eating out a lot or grabbing something out of the frozen food isle at the grocery store. Usually a frozen pizza or two. Early on in our marriage this happened a lot. We singlehandedly kept the frozen pizza industry in business that year.

We each have our own way that we like them cooked. I put it on a pan and Andy prefers to just throw the pizza on the oven rack. I don't like this method for a number of reasons, but mostly because of the following story. I have since learned how to cook his pizza to his liking without having to use the "on the rack" method, but that doesn't really have anything to do with my story.

On one such occasion we had purchased a square frozen pizza. It was cooking on the rack and all of a sudden we smelled something burning. We had positioned the pizza just so that when it melted and started to cook one side bent over and a few of the toppings had fallen into the bottom of the oven. There wasn't a whole lot we could do at the time so we just left it, finished cooking the pizza, and had every intention of getting the burned toppings out of the oven when it had cooled.

Fast forward several weeks:

I'm home alone. Andy is out with the guys for the night. I have purchased another frozen pizza and had a big evening planned of sitting on my ass in front of the television shoving as much junk food in my mouth as my body would hold. And my body will hold a lot of junk food.

The oven was preheating (key to making sure the pizza crust is crispy) and I was folding some laundry. I could see the kitchen from the laundry area, but wasn't really watching it because usually a preheating oven doesn't need to be watched. I just happened to glance over my shoulder and caught sight of the smallest amount of smoke coming out of the stove eye that vents the oven. I though maybe it was just some food that we had spilled on that eye cooking off, so I went about my business. Five minutes pass. The oven clicks letting me know it is successfully preheated. I look over and there is now smoke barreling out of the vent eye and the top of the oven door. What the heck!!!!!!!!!

I run over open the door and see the rogue pizza toppings have burned to a crisp to the point that they caught on fire. Having never encountered a fire in an oven that wasn't gas, I started to panic. Now, I'm sure you're thinking that there was no need to panic. The oven is supposed to get hot anyway and as there were no other flammable objects in the oven the fire would have eventually burned out. I was perfectly safe as was my apartment. But you couldn't have convinced me of that at this particular moment.

So of course I grab my cell phone and call Andy. He didn't seem the least bit concerned that I was at home facing a rolling inferno small fire. He told me to pour some water on it. His whole reaction infuriated me. I wasn't about to pour water into our electric oven and cause it to explode. What I really wanted was for him to come home and fix it, because I'm totally rational like that. It didn't matter that it would have burned out in the hour it took him to get back home, he was the man, and fire was his thing.

I hung up the phone, realizing I was on my own, and spun around in a few circles in the kitchen. I think I was looking for something to put it out with and only came across a kitchen towel. I really like my kitchen towels and though I knew it might smother the fire, I wasn't willing to burn a hole in a perfectly good towel. At this point I had also realized that it hadn't gotten any bigger and was just getting annoyed. I was really hungry and this thing was seriously hindering my night of sloth. Fire was not part of the plan.

Suddenly it hit me. What did they teach in elementary school fire safety? How were you supposed to put out an electrical fire? Baking soda! We had just bought two boxes of it. So I grabbed one, tore it open, and proceeded to dump about half the box onto the tiny little fire in the oven.

The day was saved. The fire was out. The only problem now was that the bottom of my oven was covered in white powder. So I took out the oven rack and after trying to excavate with a few different kitchen tools, I settled on sweeping it out with a pastry brush. Then I had an ingenious idea. There was a crack between the door and the oven, so what if I just spread paper towels on the floor and sweep all the burned food and baking soda out through the crack? Martha Stewart's got nothin' on me!

I proceeded with the spreading of the paper towels, swept most of the mess to the edge of the oven and then, slowly so as to avoid more mess, I edged it over the crack. Do you know what I heard? It wasn't the sound I should have heard if the charred pizza bits had hit the paper towels covering the linoleum floor. Instead it was the sound burned pepperoni makes when it hits metal.

The drawer under the oven, where I stored all my baking pans, had been in the way of the floor and the baking soda disaster. Now, not only was there a giant mess in my oven, I was going to have to wash every one of my baking pans and the metal drawer that held them. And if you've been reading this blog for any length of time you know how much I bake. I have a lot of pans.

At this point I was on the brink of passing out from either anger or starvation. So I shut the drawer, picked up the (still clean) paper towels, and turned the oven back on to re-preheat. I decided that my valiant efforts in putting out the fire were enough and Andy could clean up the mess. And I was so angry at the whole situation I needed to just walk away before I threw something through a wall.

I have since been able to have a good laugh at this story and I laugh every time I tell it. Andy, of course had a laugh at my expense when he got home and saw everything, and you can guarantee that anything we drop in the oven gets taken out immediately now.

As I said earlier, this isn't the end of the flaming oven saga. Stay tuned, part two will be up in a couple of days.

A scrapper's paradise

This weekend I attended a marathon crop with some of my scrapbook friends. In case you don't know what a crop is, it's when you get together for a period of time with other scrapbookers and work on your various projects while spending time together. We usually get together one Friday night a month for a few hours. But every winter there is a weekend long marathon crop. It's good for completing things from the previous year and getting everything in order for the year coming up.

I've never been to a marathon crop before, this was my first one. It was exhausting (I'm still not fully recovered), but also a lot of fun and I did manage to get some things done. I also took a break from all the tedious work to take a few pictures of everyone. I think total there were 20 women who were in and out both days. So here's my proof that I was there and so were they:

This is just one side of the room
Look at all that stuff!!

Our lovely and gracious planner/hostess,
my mother-in-law, Kathryn

Proof that a good self portrait can be madeMy workstation,
spread out to work on my niece's albumKyrie and Laura hard a workOur cutting station
2 cricket's, 2 sizix cutters,
and a multitude of shape punches,
among other things.This is Gail...She has a lot of stuff...When the people next to her left
she spread all her stuff out over two tables.
Those are six foot tables people.
Father-in-law, Jack, stopped in to visit
and have dinner with us on Saturday night.

****************************************************************
And now for something I like to call Veronicaisms.

My niece is quite the character. I've talked about her before, but usually in context with her brothers and something we had all done together. She is six and a half and you could make an entire "Kids Say the Darnedest Things" show out of one day spent with her. So I've decided to make a record of all the cute stuff she says so one day we'll have proof to embarrass her in front of friends and future boyfriends.

Some of her most recent:

On finding out her mother is having another girl (this March!):
"Her name should be Unicornia."

On viewing a picture of herself as an infant:
"Oh, I was such an adorable little baby."

On viewing a picture of Andy and I receiving our college diplomas:
"Hey Aunt Joanna! That's you congraduating!"

My grandmother/her great-grandmother gives her a cough drop. She sucks on it for a while, then responds with:
"I don't know how much more of this I can take."
She is given a tissue to spit it out:
"Those things are for old ladies."

I don't get to see her as much as I would like, but I get showered with these every time, so I'll be sure to report back whenever I can. There will come a day when she might force me to erase these from view of the whole world, but for now, they're too darn cute not to share. And a note to my brother, who I know reads this blog, if you have any to add, please feel free to drop me a line.

It's one of those days...

You know the kind. When it's the perfect comfortable temperature outside and you don't have anything in your wardrobe that is suitable. Currently it's 55 degrees where I live. I know to some of you that sounds pretty chilly, but compared to the single digit temperatures we've endured in the last week this is a freakin' tropical heat wave. I've been sweating for a few hours now.

Normally, on a day like today, when I don't have to work I'd just put on as little as made me comfortable and loaf around the house. Instead, I'm running around here half dressed trying to figure out what to put on my body. Because I have a function this weekend. So not only do I have to plan an outfit for today, but I have to plan one for tomorrow too. I have to pick two perfect outfits that I can wear and be both presentable and comfortable.

To make matters worse, I'm going to my hometown for said function. Now, this town has infinitely more humidity than my current place of residence. Any time of year. You can guarantee my sweat glands will be working over time trying to cool me down as soon as I cross the county line. I'm not kidding even a little bit.

So I decided to take a time out from destroying my closet to come here and complain to you. I would just dress in layers, but I'm already hot. And I also don't want to wear anything that will make someone say, "Does she know it's 60 degrees outside?" Whether it's too much or too little clothing, I don't want to get that reaction.

Oh, I also smashed my finger this morning and it's beginning to throb as I'm typing. I guess that's my signal to get my ass up and put some clothes on already.

Wish me luck.

Belated

Yesterday (or rather two days ago as it is after midnight) one of my very most favorite people celebrated a birthday. I celebrated with her, I've just been delayed in posting about it.

I'm talking about my mother; the woman who gave me life. I could write for days and days about how much I love her and how wonderful a mother and friend she is. I won't, at least not right now.

I'm just going to leave you with a few pictures I have of her. I won't tell you how old she is because it isn't polite and I think she'd kill me. I will tell you that it was a milestone birthday, but I won't dare you to guess it because I don't think you can, she looks much younger than her age. Everyone says so.

Back in the day
My step dad says she looks like Captain Hook

With my Grandmother
This picture looks the most like me of any I have
I don't really look like my momFamily photoI'm not sure why she isn't looking at the camera
Clearly I wanted to make a good impressionWith the oldest grandchildAt my college graduationWith her mother and siblingsWith my brother at my weddingMotherly advice
Actually, I think I was telling her I felt like I
was going to throw up.

With my grandmother
The Blue Ridge in the background

Up, Up and Away!!!Christmas, two years agoLast summerLast summer at my step dad's birthday celebrationThanksgiving '08.
I always look sleepy when I do a self portrait

Happy Birthday Momma!

Just a few notes

• I know I said I'd post pictures of the snow we've been getting, but I had a slight problem producing said pictures. Once I finally got the time to get out and take them the sky had clouded over again and started to dump more snow on us so I couldn't really get a picture of anything pretty. I'll do better tomorrow.

• I have some new snow boots that I got yesterday. They are 700 fill down and light as a feather. Basically I never want to take them off my feet. But I'm not used to my feet being warmer outside in the snow than they are inside in my socks. I've had cold feet all night, so I think I'm going to order the house slipper version.
  

• Apparently I don't live in a snow state. I forget this as I grew up in the foothills and have lived in the mountains for most of my adult life where we see snow pretty regularly. The rest of North Carolina? Not so much. It snowed all over the state last night and today causing my fellow N. Carolinians who live in the flat lands to seize up. Seriously, I think most of the state stopped functioning. I mean, I know six inches is a considerable amount of snow, but it's nothing to be afraid of. At least, nothing for me to be afraid of. Thank God for four wheel drive right?

• If your oven catches on fire, and it's electric, it's ok to pour water on the fire as long as the oven is turned off (more on that later).
  

It's time

Tomorrow we say goodbye to President Bush, and say hello to a whole new era in American history.

I'm excited. For many reasons, and not necessarily because I think President Elect Obama is the answer to all our problems. Mostly because of what this new fella says about our country. About how far we've come and how far we still have to go.

I'm also super excited about all the snow on the ground right now, so that should tell you something about my attention span (pictures to come tomorrow).

Goodbye W. It's time to give someone else the opportunity to screw up.