Wednesday, August 23, 2006


Ok, I just took this picture outside our office. I wanna know what the HELL is up with the size of this praying mantis!!! Just about a week ago, Mark told me he saw a ginormous one, but it was hard to picture one over a few inches. This bad boy tops out at a whoppin' SIX INCHES long (more'n most men...). Is this where global warming is leading us? Huh? Is it?

I apologize for the quality of the picture. That was with a zoom but there was NO frikkin' WAY I was gonna get any closer to that thing. Face it, folks. I'm terrified of grasshoppers.

Ok, now I really really need to get back to work. Deadline, schmeadline, errands a go-go.

Who dat snappin' back? |


Apologies to all for not stopping by in recent days. Seems my life is in a bit of an upheaval, albeit a good one. You see, Coots got herself a new ding dang job. And the speed with which this has happened is somewhat mind-blowing.

It's big change, a step up and I feel completely overwhelmed. The next few weeks I'm going to be doing my best to help my current boss get the business end of architecture more user friendly for whomever he hires. I'll probably be working for him even after I start my new position.

Anyway, iffen you don't see me slip-slidin' through cyber-space, know I'm thinking about y'all and I'll try to pop in now and again. Have a cold beer waiting, 'kay?

Who dat snappin' back? |

Friday, August 18, 2006

This morning...

The morning started off mostly sunny. The air itself looked pastel yellow with pink. And then...

It got dark in a really strange way. Hmm... kinda matches my mood some days...

Have a great weeekend all!

Who dat snappin' back? |

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Soap operas

A nickel for anyone who can tell me where the hell the ubiquitous 'they' came up with the term 'soap opera'. Yes, I could Google it. Yes, I AM that lazy. Or maybe I just don't really care. You decide.

Do any of you out there watch these daytime dramas? C'mon. Admit it. I'll fess up. I watch "All My Children" when I'm home on lunch break. Maybe 'watch' isn't the right word, since I generally eat something, play with the poog, take the poog outside, etc. Why, some days I even GO TO THE BATHROOM. Or do a load of laundry. But make no mistake: I know what's goin' on in the lives of Erica and Kendall and Babe and Jamie and Ryan, et al. Any time you ever think you're having a bad day? Well, just think: you could be Babe whose husband (whom she loves unconditionally because she's that good and pure of heart) tried to kill her. And not just once.

Or you could be Erica who had to face the possible death of her beloved daughter (at the hands of Babe's husband, J.R.), because her daughter was in the wrong place at the wrong time... oh, and PREGNANT. They stretched that coma out forEVAH. Kendall and the baby Spike almost didn't make it. Seriously, just think! That would've thrown Erica over the brink, I tell ya! New Beginnings, indeed!

Heck, you could even be the maniacal Dr. Madden who populated the world with his babies (he ran a sperm bank, but was also a very gifted doctor, albeit insanely egotistical). His rotten luck was to be buried alive by a person trying to get information out of him (regarding Dixie's stolen baby -- don't even get me started on that mess) and lo and behold, Llanview (which I was under the impression is in Pennsylvania) suffered an EARTHQUAKE and the poor Dr. Madden was accidentally... well, on purpose... buried alive. So, y'know, he died. Because of the earthquake. And also because he was, after all, in a coffin underground.

Yep, I love my little soap opera. 'Cuz even on those days when I think things can't possibly get any worse in my life, there're people who play these characters that have some of the most wretched luck I could possibly imagine! And doesn't art (term used very loosely) imitate life?

Who dat snappin' back? |

Tuesday, August 01, 2006


Day Two at home, sick. Bored out of my head. Several friends came over to check up on me. I love them.

This is the ever-loveable Brodie-toes. He likes Gus' rawhide bone... which is now hiding high up in a tree. No one wants Brodie to fart. He usually herds his dog, Beaumont, but for some reason, the rawhide was of more interest to him for a change. This is a bad picture, but I have to say: Brodie is the best frikkin' dog in the world. Mark is his human.

Below is the little frog-man himself, Beaumont... aka Beau aka Bobo aka Little Tiny aka Bubba aka Bub aka Alias. No one quite knows what to call him. I think he looks like a Corky, but I call him Little Tiny. He is Gus' best friend and Victor is his human.

They romped, they rolled, they jumped on Brodie.

And later that night, after the humans took took their boys home and Gus passed out on the sofa, I took advantage of the coolness of the backyard and listened to the nighttime symphony. All in all, not a bad way to spend a day. And in the morning, I'll be going back to work humming the cicadas' song.

Who dat snappin' back? |

Oh bother...

Well, I'd love to be able to write an exciting post about how just how fanFRIKKINtastic my weekend was... unfortunately, yours truly (that would be me) came down with a gnasty little sinus infection. Working at the bar on Saturday probably wasn't my wisest move, in retrospect. Sunday came, I rolled outta bed and... I felt *off*. Really off. Then Gus went after Felix and when I went to call him off, no voice. Huh? Crap. What's a gal without her voice? I had responsibilities that day, dammit! I had plans! Fun plans! It was all a no-go.

Now, I don't know how most of you deal with your own self when you're sick. But I get horribly whiney. Like a little kid who wants candy for breakfast and can't have it. It ain't purty. It's that psychological thing: if you can't have/do something, you desire/want to do it all the more. And Sunday I really WANTED to work in my yard. My boss had given me a load of flagstone that was going to manifest itself into a path from the front door to the driveway. The lawn needed mowing. The side walkway needed edging. I wanted to clean up the detritus from our fence-making project. (Yes, this stuff is fun to me as a first time homeowner). But I was logey and feeling lopsided. Not fun. And that night, some friends of mine and I had volunteered to serve dinner at the homeless shelter. Also fun. So my Sunday went from a day full of stuff to a day where there was only one thing I had to get done: make scalloped potatoes for 40 people.

Ok, then. Threw myself into that one, but once it was done and they were cooking away in the roaster, I was bored. What to do? It was ungodly hot by that time (2:00) as the heat wave most of us have been experiencing was still upon us. But I didn't feel like doing housework. So I mowed the yard. Then I weeded my flower beds. And then? I proceeded to feel even shittier. It was an early night for this girl.

Monday. Now Monday was an adventure. Still no voice and I had thought about calling in sick. But there were a few things that needed to get out, so in I schlepped. Turns out it was probably a good idea. My boss tends to question my motives when I take a sick day. But visual (and audible... audio?) aids convinced the guy that I indeed needed to go to the doctor. Lordy knows I sounded like a whispering Deep Throat. So I left... and commenced to spending a bunch of money. First to the pet store (outta dog food, but then I never leave without at least $20 in treats for the poog). Then to the grocery store (a gal needs things like kleenex and juice). And then. Then to the dreaded doctor's office. I hate this place. My doctor retired last year. He was always good about prescribing a double dose of antibiotics when I got sinus infections so that my co-pay was only charged once. Plus, he was prompt. Not this day. I actually fell asleep for half an hour in the waiting room. When I woke up (drool free!!), I went to the desk and asked the lady if they had forgotten about me. She was not nice. I was led into a little room, BP and temp taken by the nurse, then it was another 20 minutes waiting for Mr. Healer to show up. He tried to prescribe stuff that I hate, so I told him what I wanted. Talk about a puffer. I need a new doctor. Finally, I'm off to the pharmacy and then home.

The rest of the day I spent in front of the tv watching old Thin Man movies. But after awhile, one can even get tired of William Powell and Myrna Loy. So guess what I did? Yep, I did some yard work. Granted, not much. It's hard stumbling around in the heat when your ears are full of fluid and it feels like there's two pounds of jello in your head. But dammit, some stuff got done. And I got my recycling and trash out to the curb. Mission accomplished. At least partially.

And here it is Tuesday. I called in today. It's only 9:30 am and I'm already bored outta my frikkin' gourd again. So to my boss: if you think I enjoy my sick days, you couldn't be more wrong. I'm already thinking about going in for a half day. It's that or spending some quality time in my hammock with a good book letting the heat dry up some of the crap in my noggin.

What do you all do when you're at home ailing away? Especially when it's something where you don't exactly feel sick, like with all-over body aches, but something where you really should rest that thing on top of your shoulders? I'm so bored. Oh bother...

Who dat snappin' back? |

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