Sunday, March 25, 2007
Today is all about...
I am finally going to get my guest room in some sort of order. And this afternoon, it's all about getting rid of dead wood and re-seeding. My backyard looks like a mud pit where little boy scouts would go for kindling. And, as it is the first Sunday of spring, it's time for the hammock to come out and screens to get put on the doors.
And that's all I have, folks. What are YOU going to do today?
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Alas, with each move, things are left behind that must be collected later. In DICKWEED and MRS. FREENBEAN'S case, those 'things' are items like:
1. A plunger. Something you don't think about until you need it, and invariably, when you move to a new place, you're going to need it the FIRST NIGHT. Yep. Good thing there are four bathrooms, I guess.
2. Coffee filters. The beans, grinder, pot... all got moved. DICKWEED suggested that MRS. FREENBEAN use one cup of her bra as a filter. This did not go over well.
3. Shoes. Believe it or not, my mother brought ONE pair of shoes with her that she claims hurt her feet. Hmm. You're moving across the state and you bring ONE pair of shoes that don't feel good. WTF?
4. Ashtrays. Luckily, we're high class folk who don't mind using an empty beer can.
5. Table lamps. While there are overheads, who wants that on when you're trying to read a book before bedtime?
Trust me, there are many things they'll be going back for... possibly tomorrow. As my mom said, "We left the entire kitchen at the Dome Home and all of our clothes." I asked, what with professional movers and all, why the hell they'd leave things so basic. "The truck was full, honey." Ah yes, because along with all those little things you forget to bring, there are items that serve no value whatsoever and yet seem to make the final cut. Things like:
1. An old bannister, complete with newel posts, that MRS. FREENBEAN 'harvested' from an old farmhouse about twenty years ago. She just never knows when she's going to use it for something.
2. Two tables and a pie safe that, along with the bannister, are all going to be stored across the street from me in Mark and Victor's barn.
3. DICKWEED'S lava lamp and neon lights. See #5 above...
4. MRS. FREENBEAN'S giant ceramic giraffe, Penelope, who rode in the front seat of the car strapped in like the precious thang she is (my mom loves giraffes).
5. ALL of the televisions/DVD players, etc. I counted four tvs. What's up with that? Oh yeah. They needed one for the living room, one for their bedroom, one for DICKWEED's office and one for the guest bedroom. After all, it's important to have the Food Network broadcast in every room depending what level you're on...
Four hours later, after having a tug-of-war with my sister over where sofa #1 looked best, I felt like I'd been with them during the Big Move. So I chowed on pizza (off a paper plate), drank a few beers and departed, using Gus as my excuse. My dog comes in pretty darn handy sometimes. But I can't wait until they have the rest of their stuff here. Looks like my weekends are going to be booked for awhile.
And what did you all do last night?
Sunday, March 11, 2007
I've been listening to a veritable bucketload of this guy lately.
Have I ever mentioned just how frikkin' much I like the Honeydogs? Huh? Have I?
This lovely gent is Adam Levy.
And you should all go out and buy their new CD 'Amygdala'.
Or one of their older CDs.
Or all of them.
And Nick (of the nuclear sort) you have no excuse to not see them on the 29th in your chilly little one-way-streets-everywhere town. Go do it. And this summer I'm a-comin' for a visit and we will all go. I will be a-twitter.
THAT kind of a day
So it's about 6:30 in the morning (7:30 really, what with DST... yep, daylight IS sexually transmitted. Did you know that?) and the dog is snoring, the sun is shining and I'm wide awake. Just lying there. Thinking. Planning. Then cartoons, coffee and the usual Sunday morning ritual of doing laundry, dishes, scrubbing the bathroom with a toothbrush. You know. Like I said: thuh you-shoo-all. Then it became all about bein' a social gal. Had the vodka 'n all the fixins. Even my mom's infamous 'dilly beans' for garnish. Got all the stuff to make an onion pie (no, it's NOT a quiche, goddammit!). Other munchies in the cupboard. Check. Oh wait... the tomato juice looks a little chunky. Mmm... not good. So I threw the dog out in the back yard with the mud and a prime rib bone and headed to the store for some V8.
Anyone else ever go the store for ONE thing and come back $30 lighter? I shouldn't be allowed in the local Hy-Vee for just this reason. Face it, when you spend more money per month than your mortgage? Ya got a problem, my friends. But friends're a great excuse to buy shit you'd never get for yourself... like summer sausage. I loves me some summer sausage.
Hoodleboopers later (right 'round one o'clock), my friend Jessie showed up with her 14-year-old, Nate (aka The Guy With a Hollow Belly Even Though He's a Stick). I love it when she brings her boys. Mostly 'cuz I love the fact they want to come HERE. I mean, good lord WHY? Makes me feel kinda cool. In a teenager sort of way. Sam (who's 11) usually prefers other venues. He's into sports. We don't allow sports on the boob toob here. I'm guessing March Madness was too much for him to miss today.
Getting back to it (train of thought, that was)... so Jessie shows up with Nate. I'd baked the pie shell, and was waiting for butter to melt before caramelizing the onions. She rocks on in totin' some fresh squeezed ruby red Tay-has grapefruit juice. Can your mouth water a little more? Yeah, to hell with the Bloodies. I want ThAT.
A bit later, neighbor Mark showed up. We giggled, blabbed about non-extant Iowa City bars and such, listened to various tales one or the other of us had to share -- drank -- laughed more, wrinkled our noses at the Ever Flatulent Dog that is Gus, and just overall relaxed. Oh, and the pie was good, if a bit salty. Heck, even Jason put in a beer-long appearance.
But after everyone left, I felt kind of sad. So I sat outside on the front steps, sunglasses on, soaking up those 4:00 rays and looking at this blue sky that goes on forever. The kind of sky that outlines everything in such sharp contrast you think you're dreaming the clarity. And now, with both doors open and the setting sun angling its gossamer fingers through the glass, I know I'm tucked in for the night. I am happy. All is clear.
It's been that kind of a day.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
How many Cooters does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
And that's when Gus resettled his poop chute near my face and let 'er rip.
As I wallowed, half asleep, in the stench of my dog's methane, I started thinking about spring cleaning. This is something I usually do in the fall. But, my mind a-roil with thoughts of household discipline, I bumble my way through the house, like a rat in a maze, to the bonny goodness at the other end of the journey: coffee. Funny thing is, three of four lights I flipped on the way just popped. Burned out. Fizzled. Dark. So I just finished replacing three light bulbs. Thrilling, ain't it? Evidently, I thought enough of it to tell you all about it. So there.
In other news, my mom (MRS. FREENBEAN) and stepdad (DICKWEED) are moving to Iowa City next Friday. No, it's not a sudden thing... just the first time I've mentioned it? Is it? Anyway, they've got a condo on the Other Side of the river (close to my sister's place) they'll be renting for awhile until they get a feel for the part of town they want to buy in. MRS. FREENBEAN wants a house with a yard; DICKWEED wants a condo. Bets on who gets what they want?
Anyway. This'll be a good thing. Mom will be plantin' some stuff in my yard, and that will be great for me. The woman's got green hands. I will NOT lack for big, juicy tomatoes this year. Plus, I've got a built-in dogsitter and sis has a babysitter living about five blocks from her.
All good, yes? Yes. The only sad thing is no more Dome Home. No more sitting on the dock while a big ol' Iowa thunderstorm rolls in from the west. No more watching little fawns frolic in the back pasture. No more "doing the chickens" (which sounds pornographic but really means "hunting out all the strange places they'd lay their eggs"). No more mushroom hunting in the woods on the other side of the lane. (Of course, they didn't sell off that parcel, so chances are Mom'll go one more time this year and I just KNOW she will share her morels).
The times... they is a-changin'...
So there you have it. Stay tuned. Next time maybe I'll tell you about the bit of vacation time I'll be taking this summer to paint my house. AFTER the fence painting party Larietta keeps threatening to have. Who knew I needed a fence intervention?
Oh, and the answer to the first question of this post: one. Always only one. Play nice 'til next time.