Frothing Mouse

Croque Monsieur!

2012-01-30T12:02:00.005-06:00

I had a Croque Monsieur for lunch!

Only without the egg coating, pommes frites and salade.

And I wasn't in France.

Now that's what I'm talkin' about

2012-01-27T15:31:00.000-06:00

Today I took PTO (paid time off) with the plan to completely douche this douchebag divepit we call home. I had grand ideas-floors, cobwebs, toilets, the complete nit-and-gritworks.

So, this morning I was enlisted to make roux for Mr. Froth's gumbo that's currently cooking in our new crockpot. It turned out to be perfect roux, nutty brown and redolent of fried flour.

Then I proceeded to truly clean the guest bathroom. I did not know those things on the floor were actually hovering in the air and were heavy enough to fall and attach themselves to the back of the toilet and baseboards. You know. Those things. The bathroom things. I kilt them all and the bathroom sparkled.

Perhaps I got distracted by Words with Friends or doing a crossword puzzle with Mr. Froth, but I was forced to watch him vacuum and mop the floor whilst I got my nails did.

Then I ate some of the most tastebud titillating hummus I've ever experienced which was a leftover from a work event the other night. The caterer was GOOD.

Then I came here which is to be an impetus for me to take a shower, clean the shower after I take it and then get the rest of my toes did.

I don't know how Merry Maids do it.

Oh yeah I'm a political expert

2012-01-22T18:10:00.002-06:00

My general opinion of all politicians is that they are all fraught with strange failings in greater quantities than the general public. Like they screw around, they give and take surreptitiously more so than I do, they "compromise" in ways that would make me squirm on a daily basis and they have egos that are cancerous in size.

With that said I am completely nonplussed at the comparative judgments made on particular peeps' personal lives and how it affects the political process in our real time. I'm not talking about people who fuck around now, or in office now, (and don't even go to the Clinton impeachment process. THAT was for perjury. Not fucking around. Did you forget?)or even within the past few years, but, who have made, arguably, without input from both sides, questionable decisions in their past affaires d'amour. You know, like Newt.

Would someone please tell me how his three marriages with their surrounding circumstances are more condemning than Clinton's peccadillos? In the Oval Office? While he was working?

Would someone please tell me why Clinton and Obama are described as brilliant, when, they are, in fact, mouth breathers and prompter-needers of the first degree?

I don't know for whom I'm going to vote. I know it wouldn't be Ron Paul. He's too old and crazy. If Mitt gets elected, obviously I have no choice because, seriously, anyone other than Obama. But, ol' "erratic" Newt is by far an actual smart person to consider. If you discount his bizarro global warming commercial with Nancy of the botoxed face and his lobbying of Fannie Mae, he pretty much proffers what we're needing to discuss/do about. I also think he could draw the always looming independent vote/spoiler group away more so than Mitt could.

Every single candidate has unpleasant background, and I'm not going to enumerate them all, because then I'd have to enumerate Obama's unvetted, unexamined and bogus life and political experience and then I'd get all PISSY ALL OVER AGAIN.

Ground See Page

2012-01-14T17:00:00.000-06:00

Mr. Froth and I continue to do crossword puzzles. With mixed results. I'm this close to giving him a noogie on his bald part.

It's not even a nasty crossword-just a medium (renamed from easy, I think) in a book.

The clue as given by him was "ground see page." Spoken as if it contained three words. He even spelled it.

No. It was "ground seepage," which is easily figured out. I, however, was thinking "like a "see page" in a book? A clue? A hint? Maybe track or trail or spoor?"

No. It was "ooze." Which any normal non discombobulated person would arrive at if the clue giver spoke English.

Loveseats

2012-01-14T13:10:00.000-06:00

Mr. Froth and I are doing crossword puzzles outside on the deck, as is our wont, or pattern, actually...and one of the clues was "love and mercy, e.g." The answer was "seats."

Which lead me to ruminations about loveseats. We have always had some sort of loveseat. It's a nice sized piece of furniture and goes with the sofa (or Davenport as we liked to call them back in the day).

Perhaps I'm making this all up, in which case it's no different than usual, but I understand that loveseats were called that because they offered Victorian sorts a place upon which to perch their bloomers and consider love, while not actually doing anything about it, other than moisten their hidden body parts in preparation for when they went to the illicit "lovebed."

So the loveseat became all disheveled and smelly and the pile on the upholstery got worn and then the young child of the family would go over and sit on the loveseat and drop crumpet bits on it creating a crunchy base for the next round of not-doing-anything-about-love duo.

Eventually the loveseat would go to the attic and be picked by some cable guys and resold for 21st century money, crunchy smelly bits and all.

The loveseat above is not as ugly as I hoped to find on the innertubes but it is evocative of boobs, which I think is appropriate.

Now for Something Uplifting and Piece/Peaceful

2012-01-14T11:56:00.000-06:00

My sister in law is an unassuming, loving, dryly quick witted brilliant quilter and artist. I mean, she's a seriously good quilter, as in juried shows, prize winning and like that. She's also essentially fearless, because through her church she has developed an amazing quilting ministry in Africa (Burundi, Congo and has been asked to teach in Kenya and Rwanda) called Peace Through Pieces. This is a wonderful slowly expanding ministry teaching women skills that help support them and make them teachers. These women have lost family members and friends, been raped and maimed and have lived through hell.

Miss Patty is a wonder. Check out the link for more information. It's astounding.

Crap day yesterday

2012-01-14T11:49:00.000-06:00

Just an enervating clusterfuckery day. See, on certain days I have to compile material to be couried to the powers that be. It involves creating a pdf out of a boatload of memos, attachments and assorted detritus. It's not rocket science. But, it's tedious and time consuming and the laws of physics dictate that paper comes out of a printer at a prescribed pace and if there are hundreds of pages and several books of the hundreds of pages and the courier is going to be there in an hour ONE MUST CUT OFF SUBMISSIONS AT SOME POINT.

But, no. I kept receiving revisions up to twenty minutes before it would have been drop dead time. Which meant I had to replace, reinsert, repaginate, renumber agendas, replace, repaginate and finally get a final okay on the finished product that was 250 pages long. And, I had to run seventy miles to the other end of the building to get the shit bound and then run back and then run back again and then do it again and I was pissed. And my feet hurt. And and and. I know, don't start too many sentences with and. I don't care.

I was mentally bitch slapping and "fuckers" at everyone I passed, even if they weren't responsible. They were in my way.

Now it's today and I ranted again and I feel better and wasn't this boring?

How Ideas Become Great Literachuh

2012-01-08T09:17:00.000-06:00

Early this morning, during the exodus of wispy, mottled-gray dream remnants and just before sunrise, I lay in bed, curled around my down-escaping pillow. My crusty eyelids were squinched shut, my nose was whistling and my upper back was tensed in fear that Dot or Merv would, once again, want to go in/out/in/out/in/out/scratch door/mew/chirp/in/out/in/out.

And that was when "The Great Unwashed" scrolled across my brain, out of the blue. What did it mean? Is this an essay I should write? A short story of bleakness overcome by glittering hope and free credit cards?

And that was when I opened my mouth into the pillow folds after which escaped breath that defied the emissions from the least-maintained septic tank in history.

My body has its own organic screensaver in my morning head.

Pigskin Parade

2012-01-07T12:44:00.000-06:00

Pigskin Parade, folks. A FABULOUS movie. However, I seriously thought Mr. Froth was going to stroke out from laughing during the evening last. Or his esophagus would fall out of his body. Or my ears would explode from the shrieking.

The high points included Texas State University recruiting a bumpkin who could throw watermelons a million miles but had to do it barefoot. He became the quarterback for the TSU/Yale game (really) because the coach's wife got drunk and took out the real QB trying to teach him how to tackle. ?

And it was a musical with four 60 year old guys breaking into song throughout (they were not alums, but students) ? And a band that morphed into an orchestra when Judy Garland had to sing.

During the game. While the crowd shot off guns when the team scored. ?

Those 1936 peeps were, well, different special snowflakes.

Go Texans!

2012-01-07T12:29:00.001-06:00

Normally (not that I'm normal but play along) I don't care about much pro football, but the Texans are in the playoffs, so whooo hoooo!

An old dog-eared rant ranted by many

2012-01-06T23:16:00.001-06:00

Why do people, who write so well, so many people, continue to confuse direct objects with subjects and predicates and and and other parts of the English language that fuck the whole sentence up?

If you're asking for something FOR you and someone else, say "for Ralph and me."

If you're hearing something that someone said, directed to you and a friend, say "Ralph told Ralph and me."

Not, Ralph told Ralph and I. Or, Ralph told Ralph and myself. Myself and Ralph were told. Yeah. That sounds good.

Or, the best, Ralph and myself are the chairs of the knit-a-tea cozy marathon this week. Myself is going to knit a tea cozy. Myself is going to beat the crap outta your happy self's ungrammatical self's cheap handbag.

Or, please send your reply to Ralph and I and we'll make sure you get on the list.

No. We won't, because I'll have beaten the crap outta Ralph's happy self's ungrammatical self's cheap handbag and there will be no one to to put you on the list.

Don't "I" when "me" is right. Otherwise I'll beat up your handbag.

For Evil Squorrel Lovers

2012-01-02T15:49:00.000-06:00

I have a friend who has an amazing ability to create art in Paint. I'm not shitting you. It's based on characters developed from real people on another message board, with all accompanying quirks and shenanigans. The ringmaster is Evil Squirrel. He now has his own line of evilly squirrelly items on CafePress, so if you feel the need to buy something weird and wonderful, do it. There will be, I'M SURE, items with my likeness on them soon. I'M SURE.

Happy happy happy day after new year day or whatever

2012-01-02T15:45:00.000-06:00

Today I cleaned the carpet. Forensics will be here shortly.

I also visited the neighbors' dog who is old, decrepit, stinks to high Heaven, has horrible skin allergies and ear problems and howls like a banshee on the moor. She's a Beagle. I figured we needed girl time to bond so I let her in their house and I watched the Rachel Zoe Project, drank their wine, read a book and scritched her ears and, well, actually let her inside. She sleeps in the garage because she poops and does the old dog thing, but, shit. There is a heater in the garage and it hasn't been really cold and all she does is sleep, but, it's just sad. I'd offered to sleep over while they were gone, then thought better of it, since the doggie wouldn't know I was there anyway. However, we had a good afternoon, she's now asleep in her bed outside until we put her in and I feel like I've done something. She's also very, very greasy and needs a massive bath.

Which pisses me off, since when Beebs was old and dying, with no bowel control and lipomas oozing on his body, we'd at least clean up his butt and necessary parts and let him sleep inside ALL THE TIME. And I'd clean the carpet every day and you just do that.

Anyway.

I hope all have had a/an (insert desired effect) Happy New Year.

Christmas haul

2011-12-26T14:49:00.000-06:00

It's fun trimming gifts down to the bare essentials. Everyone's old enough not to have to have eleventy million boxes to open just because. And, some family is elsewhere so it's not like nine hundred folks are around, and some peeps have to work Christmas Eve. Like that.

So, we ate Japanese on Christmas Eve! It was awesome-hit the restaurant that Frothlet #2 is managing, met his boss who is a sweetheart and basically unintelligible, but we got the gist. And the gist was good. We had potstickers, tuna tartare taco thingies (which are da bomb), miso soup, striped bass in beurre blanc with jalapenos and peanuts and garlic greens (da bomb) and bass in a buttery glaze (da bomb). We pretty much bombed our guts. Quite fabulous food.

Then, we waited til last night for Frothlet #2 to come over and open presents. His "big" present was Skyrim, the new game that's part of the Elder Scrolls series. So, of course, I handed him a big fat heavy box containing the new Trivial Pursuit where you bet on whether your neighbor will answer right. I said,"I know you've been waiting for this." Then, I made him open up the pajamas and assorted small miscellany before I actually gave him the game. It's not like he didn't know what we were doing. Gosh. They just grow up too fast from the age of five to twenty-five...

Then I gave Mr. Froth his fabulous gifts: underwear, coffeemaker, can opener and the piece de resistance----chainsaw. I thought he'd said our chainsaw was broken.

It was the leaf blower. Well.

So I opened my gifts, which included a crockpot, which I almost bought for myself anyway. Yippeee! I had also asked for a longer chain for a cross he'd given me a few years ago, thinking he could go to Target or wherever.

He handed me a Zales bag, with tears in his eyes and mewled, "I just hope you like it."

I pulled out the tissue paper and there was a fantabulous space age potato peeler! Yes! Mrs. Frothlet #1 had remarked on the aged status of our current potato peeler-you know, the one that is bare bones and makes KP the punishment that it is.

This one has a rubber handle and, well, a peeler section...and is space age!

He also did get me another chain, with another quite beautiful cross attached to it, but I still need to get a longer one for the other one and this means I shall be wearing multiple crosses at some point, because they're all so pretty and will that make me a Goth or Madonna-looking person?

I don't care. I'm doing it.

Perhaps it will bring me luck playing the new Trivial Pursuit game or the Dominoes game I also bought.

I can't remember how to play Dominoes, but they were cheap.

Merry Christmas to everbuds

2011-12-24T14:17:00.000-06:00

I haven't posted in a bit I just noticed. My life has just been a whirlwind of glittering holiday parties, scooping up large carat jewels, ribbon wrapping shiny cars and jetting away to Gstaad.

Or not. Perhaps I'm just lazy. Surely not. Don't call me Shirley. Stop me now.

So, we're lowkeying Christmas since as how Frothlet #1 and his lovely wife are up in Oklahoma visiting her 'rents. We're babysitting extra kittehs who have become lovely lapcats when they're not growling at and harassing Dot. Frothlet #2 is working this evening so we're going to his restaurant for dinner.

I must brag on my chilrens and thank God for good stuff that has come their way. Frothlet #1's job is going quite swimmingly, he got an unexpected (though too small) raise and his superiors love him. Hopefully he'll be promoted soonly.

Frothlet #2 got a call from the owner of a restaurant at which he worked for two weeks a year ago this summer. He had quit since it was new and he wasn't making any money. Last week she contacted him out of the blue and offered him the general managership of the restaurant. Wants to get it marketed, yada yada and had been impressed with him the year ago two week stint. How cool is that?

Then, we have the haunting of our alarm clock which we're attributing either Lucky the dead Black Cat, Elvis the dead Yellow Lab, Beebs the dead Black Lab, or my mother in law, whose ashes reside on our mantle...

Our early '70's Poverty Apartment Christmas decor has expanded to include some glittery angels hanging on the kitchen light fixture and has diminished by the unexplained leaping onto the floor from the tv top of a crystal bell ornament thing. It either didn't like the music we were listening to or it's in cahoots with the clock.

Hope your Christmas is fabu.

I AM the Bunko queen

2011-12-06T21:34:00.000-06:00

I lost tonight at Bunko and still won $20 for being the best loser. Plus I won my white elephant gift choice and the traveling gift. Losers are our friends. It's all in the wrist, I tell ya.

Still Life with Miscellany

2011-12-04T10:58:00.001-06:00

Speaking of stillborn-how 'bout them Sooners? There is only one other instance I can remember that Mr. Froth walked away from watching an entire game so we're up to two, now. They've turned into clarified butter left out for midnight roaches. In case you have no idea what I'm talking about last night Oklahoma State thrashed the Sooners. Beat the holy hell out of them. Our neighbors, Frothlet #1 and his wife, and their friend (Frothlet #2 was working so had an actual productive evening) came over for the usual watch party.

We turned the tv off at halftime and migrated to the front porch spewing profanities unheard within the last millennium. Some of us decided new coaching staff was in order because if you're going to constantly pursue national championships and tout yourself as that sort of team year after year you best WIN ONE more often than every eleven years. Or maybe even a bowl game. That would be awesome. Or even the conference championship.

Oh well.

But, I did get to show off my glittering wonderland of Christmas decor that I got yesterday along with some trouser socks and a mop. Perched atop the mantle sits a cunning 12 inch colored metal ball tree surrounded by metallic tinsel. Three different colors of tinsel! Metal is the theme as you can tell. I also artfully arranged three metal spiky star thingies around all that other metal. Then there's the metal tree skeleton surrounded by more metal tinsel on top of the tv, which I insist is 8 inches high but which Mr. Froth said is 6 inches and wouldn't I just LOVE to have an eight-incher.

Then, there's the metal spiky star thingie hanging from the kitchen light. Oh, I almost forgot the centerpiece of the mantle-an Elvis guitar ornament that my neighbor gave to me that plays two songs. She has refined sensibilities like mine.

Years ago, for many years, I did really decorate the house quite beautifully, with garlands and ribbon and big tree and wreathes and shit, and strung lights all across the bushes in front. I even lit the monster yuccas and hollies in the back which made sitting on the deck really atmospheric. Clark Griswald had nothing on me.

Unfortunately, a couple of years ago I shorted out the electrical plug on the outside of the garage while stringing lights and it started smoking and I called the fire department and decided to cut back a bit on the frenzy...

Too, the attic contains all the Christmas paraphernalia and that is a scary place, so it's just easier to transform our downstairs into "Early '70's Poverty Apartment" which is what I call this year's theme.

Dancing with Tchotchkes

2011-12-03T08:39:00.000-06:00

An epic saga thrillingly displaying one woman's connection with her collection as she coos softly to a Lladro and caresses a Baccarat. Where will it lead her?

Owls, that is. Swimming pools, movie stars. Wait. No, that's different.

So, owls that I inherited from my mother in law after Mr.Froth, his sis and I cleaned out the elder Froth's apartment prior to his hitting the nursing home-It saddened me that the collection of owls, for which I harbor less than zero interest, would go to some stranger or be broken up into single owls. And that would deprive me of the chance one day to sell them on Ebay myself.

They live on the hutch in the entryway and now surround a humongous poinsettia that my neighbor got us which is serving as our Christmas tree. I'm sure they're much happier in a "natural" setting and maybe won't rise up and kill me dead in the middle of the night. So, even after the aborted dollar store foray last week I'm going to hit Target and try, once again, to gather some cheap shit that I can strew about to festivize this dump.I'm thinking total metal garlands or frosted fake everything.

And another thing about voting

2011-12-02T21:29:00.000-06:00

I'm thinking Baby Boomers and older are the most adamant about voting in general. After that, as in, younger than that, there seems to be a gravy slide of caring. What is that all about? So, maybe we screwed up everything in the 60's, inadvertently some of us by virtue of just being alive, or whatever,but most everyone I know my age votes. I think. Maybe I'm deluded.

I'm sad about the apathy that reigns with many people. It doesn't matter that you have to vote for some douchebag. If you DON'T vote for any douchebag, then it's a gimme to whomever. I sigh.

And another thing-voting

2011-12-02T20:06:00.002-06:00

If you don't vote, quitcherbitchin.

It's Friday-It's core dump day

2011-12-02T19:40:00.000-06:00

Here is another huge, monstrous, gargantuan, annoying pet peeve of mine.

Where does anyone get off on pronouncing any Democrat president or Congressional representative as brilliant? Oh, we had to put up with that ridiculousness with Clinton. He's brilliant. He's a Rhodes scholar. Hell, if I had the money and the in I could have been a Rhodes scholar. He's a fucking mouth breather. And if you think I'm lying watch him during a Kennedy Center gala when he was sitting next to his beloved...mouth breathing. Plus, he's a dick. And, not that articulate.

Obama brilliant? Have you read his writings? Harvard stuff? I'm not talking about the Ayers' ghost writing. It's junior high, as is his wife's thesis. Have you paid attention when he talks off the cuff? Have you evaluated his philosophical renderings? Oh, there aren't any worth evaluating? Well, there is that. He can't even do an appropriate accent that might resonate with whatever crowd he's yammering to.

Of course, there's the lovely Pelosi-semi senile and a spawn of the D'Allesandro family in Maryland. They're capitalists, you know. Very rich. The "pass it to find out what's in it" sweetie. Bless her heart.

And, of course, the past two Democrat Senate leaders, Daschle and Reid. I'm gobsmacked and nonplussed that two totally clinically depressed sounding gents can make it as far as they have. Testosterone much? Speak up honey, do you need a hug?

Post dollar store update

2011-12-02T19:25:00.002-06:00

I went to DSW and bought three pairs of shoes in revenge.

Dollar store place-can ya tell I'm cranky?

2011-12-02T19:20:00.000-06:00

So last Sunday, after becoming totally disenamored of everyone and everything football, I went out to the dollar store to buy cheap ornaments and trailing things. Because I refuse to go into the attic which is a hellhole and scary and I just am not going to do it.

I drifted about the store dropping inexpensive balls and dangly things and fake poinsettia things into my cart. I figured I could weave this crap into the crap that's already on the mantle and the hutch and make it look sort of festive. I'm not really in a FESTIVE mood. So, I got some jingle bells and some Christmas kitchen potholders and a towel and some cheap scented candles.

Then I went to the register to check out.

I plopped my five bags' worth of shit onto the conveyor (I know it was five bags' worth because the checkout girl bagged it) and prepared to pay. I pulled my MC out and she asked, "Is it Visa or debit?"

Nonchalantly I said, "No, it's Master Card."

Checkout girl: "We dun tek Master Cahd. See de sine on the regtrer. Only debit an Visa, check, other..."

Me: "Excuse me? We charge everything and, well, what?"

Checkout girl: "Just tose and debit. An chek."

Me: Replopping five bags worth of DOLLAR SHIT, mind you, DOLLAR SHIT, back onto the desk while a ?manager? comes over and prints something out which I'm thinking-"Oh, reconsider?" No. Ya can't debit a MC credit card."Debit card or Visa or chek."

But, wait, you can accept a check from someone which, er, makes sense in what universe?

So, I left without my cheap Christmas shit and I said loudly "This is ridiculous."

And, as I exited the actual door I said, "I cannot fucking believe this."

What up in the offing

2011-12-02T18:59:00.001-06:00

Hey Stu, and probably some readers who never comment, or some relatives with whom I disagree on political stuff but who HAVE TO LOVE ME REGARDLESS...you may not blogroll me or like me with this. But, c'est la vie.

We're coming down to a rather important election and the Repubs are still jacking around. They need to get their act together because there really is not any sort of viable libertarian candidate. Ron Paul? He's senile and a crackpot. We all need to have something other than Obama, anything, anything.

Our current president is a cypher, both historically, academically, politically and ethically. Which has made him a lovely vessel for whomever strikes his fancy or whoever fancies his cypherness-OOH. Something sparkly and socialisty looking! OOOH! I can ramrod through some questionable, unread, earmarked (oh no. not an earmark? No. Surely not.) bill that will fuck up everyone's insurance. And make those PESKY sorts who actually have money but didn't want to buy insurance because they were spending their money on something else BUY insurance. Did you know how few uninsured are covered under Obamacare?

Those fabulous coastie sorts, like Nancy and Barney, wow, they are in sycophant heaven. Or, were. Oops. Gosh. Sorry bout that Fannie Mae shit. And that congressional trading shit. Too bad for ya. Hope all of your ethical and people-caring about constituents drop their hypocrisy and focus in on all that. Maybe not.

Hope you, Michelle, our belle, keep reinforcing the no fat ass left behind as you hit the chocolate sculpture and fish sliders and shakes and "occasional" slips on the diet slope. Your cause is SO historic. So historic.

But, back to the main man-not quite up to bigboy par, are we? The hot air balloon is rather deflating, no? Could it be because you're a cypher? Cypher, number, puppet. Bless your heart.

Whatevs

2011-12-01T18:08:00.000-06:00

Been busy tending to broken water heaters, checking on furnace heaters, moving to a new office and posting on other sites in response to dumbshits.

It's getting down to nutcutting time, folks. Politically speaking, that is.

People. Eggs.

2011-11-11T17:44:00.000-06:00

This is a psa for all y'alls who like gadgets. Specifically, egg-cooking gadgets. Specifically, Eggies.

This is what happens when you get all "Ooh! Sparkly things! Shiny things! Cheap things!" when you're filling out your Publishers Clearinghouse winner shit. I KNOW I'm gonna win money without buying something so I dint buy anything, but Mr. Froth was completely enamored with the Eggies flyer. We discussed in detail the possibilities of a quick and clean way of making hard boiled eggs, because who doesn't love a devilled egg? Or a, well, hard boiled egg now and then, plain? We decided, or I decided, to hit Bed Bath and Beyond, because they always have the crap that's in the flyers.

And, they did. So I bought them. Presented them to Mr. Froth at lunchtime and let him wail on the Eggies.

When I got home from work he was trying to find all the Eggie parts in the dishwasher in order to start cooking the eggs that we were so eagerly awaiting. His boiling water was down an inch or so, so I added more and then picked around with my smaller hands in the workings at the bottom of the dishwasher to retrieve the lids and rings for three of the holders. That may have been the first alert.

I found them and he oiled up the parts, ground the gears, forged some horseshoes, whipped up the pottery wheel...

Anyway, there was some disagreement on the efficacy of the tightness of the lids, but I pluckily screwed away and he screwed away and it was beautiful. Then we plopped them into the reboiling water. I must say, the little holders are quite cunning and engaging and now warped from the dishwasher, but, still, quite cunning and engaging.

So cunning in fact that three of those little fuckers popped their lids and three eggs escaped to poach away in freedom. See? Freedom is what everyone wants. I don't particularly want three poached eggs as a 5 o'clock canape, but, whatever. They're free and hopping.

Fifteen minutes later I spooned out the poached eggs and the three remaining Eggie holders (who are sitting in the fridge to cool so we can squeeze them out, hopefully).

They're flat topped. I don't know. I'm not an anti-flat top person and have no personal grudge against flat toppers, but it's wrong. Flat topped eggs are wrong. Plus, we're not sure we can get them out of the holders. which makes them Occupy Holders useless flat topped eggs. Who ever heard of a flat topped devilled egg?

The flapping lids, rings and poached egg detritus are sitting in the pan and the clean up will be extensive.

Compare this to: put eggs in water til just covered, add a bit of vinegar, boil for 10 minutes, cover and let sit. Retrieve ROUND eggs. Cool. Remove shells. Devil.

I also did not use a coupon, which is communist.

PowerPoint

2011-10-27T19:10:00.000-05:00

I've often ranted about PowerPoint. Well, not ranted, just randomly inserted insults about it in posts.

However, I do, indeed, think it's one of the most insidious, overused, blighting tools of modern society. It appears that some might agree based upon a wikipedia entry (and we know how THOSE are expert), but, still.

It was originally developed for Macintosh which, right there, makes it suspect. Bought by Microsoft. Suspect. Yada yada yada.

Everybody MUST have a PPT now. And that PPT must have excessive text on each slide, defeating the purpose of its use. You have a memo with attachments. You have a speaker. Just read and listen. READ and LISTEN. It's a concept that, I think, helped civilization move past throwing bones in a bowl. Do NOT have 50 slides in your presentation, especially if you're one of five presentations.

Humans, as advanced (and I say that jokingly) as they are, aren't capable of higher critical thinking after about 20 minutes of sitting on their ass watching a fucking PPT.

I think it's a conspiracy.

The way-my platform

2011-10-19T19:05:00.000-05:00

My platform is constructed of mahogany, burnished to a dull glow, emitting vibes of happy. And if you don't support it I shall strew splinters of rotting cedar deck upon you.

Ribs all around. Dry rub is preferred, but sauce will be allowed as an adjunct. No boiled ribs. If you boil ribs I'll implement an executive order to banish you to Wisconsin. And I can do that because I lived there and I had to eat fucking boiled ribs.

Fuckwit registry. A mandatory "do not be a fuckwit" registry will be established and if you're on it you cannot be anywhere I am.

Non-invasive chin lifts. I don't give a rat's ass about eye bags or crow's feet, but this under chin wattle bullshit is unacceptable. It will carry a $100 deductible and include a pair of funky earrings.

Detainment of anyone who espouses a slogan referencing fixing the economy, healthcare system, tort system, reduction of defense of the US, abolishment of businesses and requiring my cents (notice I said cents and not dollars because that's what we're all coming down to) to be redistributed to them, without a valid thought-out program for actually carrying it out, and you ain't redistributing anything I got anyway so that one's a no-goer, to a disgusting toilet looking room from a Saw movie. Shake it off. Clear your mind and grow the fuck up and take notes and grow up. Enjoy the voice from the speaker system.

You must kiss my ass because I am asskisserworthy. And my arms look better than Michelle's and I don't go sleeveless in midwinter because no normal person does. Or, in air conditioning. Or wear sweaters that Hello Kitty threw away when she grew up. Bless her heart.

Whack-a-mole those who talk about border problems when it's convenient and then act SURPRISED! when cartels establish their hives on actual American's land and wonder why people are getting a bit...peeved.

Free bunionectomies and accompanying strappy sandals for those who appreciate strappy sandals and kitten heels and slides.

Outlaw PowerPoint presentations because they are destroying our civilization. I'm not kidding. I wouldn't lie. Or at least insert some weirdass animation in them to wake people up and get them on track again.

Muzzle Susan Sarandon, Joe Biden, Sean Hannity, Ron Paul, the Won, Hollywood, Congress, former presidents, former presidential advisors, commentators and pretty much everyone else so that when they speak they have to make a real hard extra effort to get their points across. And we can then laugh at them because they're muzzled and sound garbled like they are. I'm an equal opportunity muzzler and realize there are more to be muzzled.

Pray. Because, hoo boy, we need it.

You WILL assimilate

2011-10-19T10:54:00.000-05:00

Beep doot doot doot beep. Greetings from a strange land. I am a stranger.
Captain Kangaroo did TOO have orange hair! Google him up!
That sounded totally perverted.

The Bible that the elder guy was reading was bound in some sort of reptilian skin stuff.

Beep doot doot doot beep. It appears that the lizards that seem to have popped out of the plane passengers' heads and have overtaken me/us/we/they were beep doot doot doot beepers. I believe it's the remnant reptile of a group of Thetan castoffs who missed the mountain, and, well, then it got a concussion from the whiplash. Or maybe it rammed into an iceberg. Mushrooms much?

He did TOO have orange hair.

Occupy walls beep doot doot doot beep.

Travel log

2011-10-15T14:47:00.000-05:00

Paducah was lovely. The wedding was great. Everybody had a fabu time catching up and meeting new people and watching football from a really cool loft and hearing about bridesmaids getting shitfaced. The usual.

Lemme tell you about the flight to Nashville though.

Our plane was an Embraer, one of the dinky puddle jumpers that seem to get dinkier and dinkier. And gloomier and gloomier. We were in the line to get in the plane and had gate checked our bags when the young, frighteningly pale black-suit-wearing being in front of us, who also was wearing a name badge that said "Elder," turned to us with a terrified look on his face. "Are we supposed to leave all of our carry ons out here?"

? Not a seasoned traveler I believe. I questioned his human provenance, actually.

So as we entered the doorway we were greeted by a short, stout, jolly pockmarked gent who looked like Captain Kangaroo. No. Really., Thick orange hair. Glinting maniacal eyes. Crooked smile. This was the flight attendant. Mr. Froth turned back to me and I kept a stoic demeanor. I did. And then we looked into the plane and I swear it was three feet wide and DARK.

We inched our way down to our seats, passing two "pats" (you know, SNL "Pats") who were both shaved, multiply pierced and deaf, just signing away. I figured they were calling us all dirty names like "bourgeoisie" and "noisy if we could hear them."

We sat across from the skinny elder boy in the black suit. He pulled out a weirdly bound Bible looking book and read the whole way.

The flight attendant had a very thick Spanish accent and wore a sign that said he was an IAM representative. They're pushing dog food? Then I realized that's not how it's spelled, so, well, what is IAM? He didn't charge us for our cocktails, though. I think he liked us. Which is a good thing because we both felt that we were on a Lost episodic plane or that lizards would start emerging from peoples' heads in flight.

I told Mr. Froth that I loved him and to be strong against the aliens in the event they got me first.

Off to the wilds of Kentucky for another wedding

2011-10-05T19:59:00.002-05:00

Nephew is getting married and Mr. Froth is missing the OU/Texas football game. Which he has not let us forget. Good times will be had.

My offensive rant

2011-09-30T21:23:00.000-05:00

This is a yearly curmudgeonly invective due to my own underlying sense of alert but annoyance with the celebration of disease.

I had breast cancer in 2002. It's been nine years. I'm very lucky. People who think they're "cured" are delusional, because it can always come back. As a recurrence or as a new presentation.

However, I don't like the color pink. I'm sick of seeing pink. I'm tired of folks slamming their stories in our faces about their valiant efforts against breast cancer. Not because they aren't valiant efforts, for which I applaud everyone, but because they're cemented in our consciousness as somehow more worthy of attention, angst, attagirl/boys, whatever.

I don't live every day thinking about breast cancer. I did while I was undergoing treatment, but, I still had to work and put up with daily crap and try to be normal. At times I wasn't good at it.

In the meantime there are spouses, friends and relatives who have had prostate cancer at the same time, or leukemia or Hodgkin's Disease or colon cancer or lung cancer or diabetes or heart attacks or...all of whom are dealing with the same day to day hovering of possible reoccurrence.

Which disease should we celebrate? How many people just live their lives day to day and deal with whatever happens without propping themselves up as heroes and martyrs and flagbearers?

It gets old. It may come back. It may not. Other peeps's crud may come back or it won't. I might get an ingrown toenail that gets infected and I die of septicemia. A piano may fall on me as I walk to my car. Which would be quite amazing since there aren't many musical offices where we work.

And, I question where the money goes with all the hoopla around some of the larger fundraisers. I'm sure some goes to research, which is lovely, but in the end, so much of this is marketing. Marketing a disease.

Pisses me off.

Perception is reality

2011-09-30T21:05:00.000-05:00

Don't you just want to smash Timothy Geithner in the face? Is he not one of those people that, for no reason, of course there are reasons, but pretend there aren't and just pretend he's the one not picked for dodge ball, that you want to throw the ball directly at his face? He has that anemic worried, sexless, east coast tightness about him that is just...offputting. And dodgeball targeting.

If I were a eurotrash sort calling him out on his stupid shit, and, of course, his boss's shit, I would SO make fun of his hair? Expressions? His lack of testosteronishness?

And then there's pretty Janet N.

I pride myself on my substantive evaluation of political dweebs.

Dreams

2011-09-30T20:52:00.000-05:00

Symbolism much? The other morning I woke up after a dream that lasted about ten minutes which I know for a fact since I'd looked at the alarm and had allowed myself ten exact minutes to go back to sleep and I did and so I dreamt.

It involved me going to my bedroom door to see our youngest with a bunch of people from a local Methodist church (?!?) who had done an extreme makeover on our house. They'd replaced the ceramic tile, cabinets and any other covering of any sort with oak looking particle board. It was rather attractive actually...

I remember remarking on the rubber drawer covers and wondering...

But, all they wanted was some food which we didn't have so, well, order a pizza?

Shit. I had a nice new wood covered house.

Then I woke up and realized I still needed to figure out where the cat pee smell was coming from. This was before we had extry cats deposited due to elder Frothlet's trip to a wedding and whose cats hadn't had an opportunity to pee anywhere even though they brought NO KITTY LITTER.

I'm thinking Merv did dastardly deeds as did Dot, which is just wrong. Wrong, because they don't do those dastardly deeds inside anymore. Or maybe they did. Whatever, I swiffered tonight and although random shit still resides upstairs the cat pee doesn't.

Booyah.

Flu shots

2011-09-25T14:31:00.000-05:00

Yes, sometimes one does have a reaction to them. That sucker has knocked me for a loop for two days. Thanks docs!

And the Elaine dance

2011-09-14T20:23:00.000-05:00

And I noticed that that was exactly what it was. Yay me.

And of course

2011-09-14T20:19:00.000-05:00

The garter get.

Conga line

2011-09-14T20:07:00.000-05:00

Here's Frothlet #2 leading the line during which I was pulled into immediately after this pic. I lasted at least 5 minutes.

Untoward behavior

2011-09-14T19:52:00.000-05:00

After my statement that the reception was all lovely and stellar and well-behaved, it must be said that the after party at the La Quinta (the LOVELY La Quinta next to the bowling alley that apparently had a wedding reception the night before us. Really. I would not lie. Or else it was our younger group sorts filtering out. I dunno.) was rather unbecoming of some sorts. Not moi, of course. I just sat there thinking,"It's not me, this time! Whoo hooo!" "It's not Mr. Froth!"

Certain peeps felt compelled to reenact their hallucinated role in a movie that required Native American chants. Again and again and again. It was awesome.

And then, the groomsmen and ushers appeared and did a fabulous ventriloquist bit called Nips and Tips that featured Mr. Froth's jeans shorts. Really don't ask. If you feel like it, youtube it. Nips and Tips. You'll see two babyfaced gents, one on another's lap answering questions. With squawking laughs in the background. That would be Mr. Froth.

Verklemptish

2011-09-11T16:05:00.002-05:00

Still. What with residual wedding verklemptitude, and worrying about everybody who's burning up around us and hoping that we're not next verklemptitude, and 911 verklemptitude...I feel like Wiley Coyote's anvil has alit upon my back.

But, buck up, Bucko! We're employed. We have a wonderful family and friends. And Dot and Merv. And anoles and sometimes raccoons and possums. And non-grilled ribs for dinner because I won't let Mr. Froth grill.

I must energize. I must start painting again. I must write. I must clean the floors. Perhaps I'll pick my hangnails and ruminate instead. Or drink a glass of wine. Or laugh with Mr. Froth. Or compose an actual sentence with subject and predicate and clauses and such. (See Elements of F*$&#* Style.)

Instead, I shall post a pick of my new bestie from the wedding, one of our groomsmen who kept pulling me out to dance and hijacked me into the conga line and discussed libertarian sorts of views at the end of the reception. GOOD TIMES PEEPS! (That is NOT anything gross by my armpit.It's just a shadow. I mean. Ew. I think my skin turned green or something from the dress or...geez. What IS that?)

What a long short week

2011-09-10T08:50:00.000-05:00

Please rain. Please rain. But, for your viewing pleasure, here's something pretty.

Back! And hoo boy it was TREMENDOUS!

2011-09-07T18:58:00.000-05:00

Once I get the pictures we got loaded, which don't include any actual wedding pictures, because we were, like IN it, I'll post some. The NEW Mrs. Frothlet #1 is non pareil. Her family and friends are as well. I got to see relatives and friends I hadn't seen in awhile, make new ones, and we all puffed out our eyes from laughing.

New inlaws rock. Reception was stellar. After parties were painfully fun and made the drive home tiring. Like it's not anyway, ten hours, mumble, mumble.

To the north and west of us is a fairly major fire-Magnolia, Texas. During our drive home on Monday we saw seven fires on the horizon, some with smoke wafting across the freeway. Our local fire, local within 20 miles, created enough haze and smoke that the drive from Huntsville to The Woodlands was a smoky mess.

If we don't get some rain at some point, I just dunno. We be living in interesting times. When Mr. Froth can't grill it's epic.

Okay. I shall be scarce for a weekish or so

2011-08-30T22:53:00.000-05:00

Which isn't much different than usual, only that I have a great excuse. Frothlet #1 is tying the knot this Sunday. We head out Thursday. Maybe I could dredge up a post tomorrow. Something stupid. I'll work on that.

In the meantime, I'm totally time-warping on everything. Was a baby. Changed the diapers. Getting married. Gaining a daughter. Need to find a bra to go with dress. Must put kleenexes in purse for ceremony.

Rehearsal dinner expensive. But, we're watching OU/Tulsa during.

Family and friends meeting up, many who have not met either which will be EPICCCC!!!!!!!!!

Fuck the Spanx shit. If my underwear shows, whatev.

Showed Frothlet #1 LeeAnn's daughter's wedding pictures and then the zombie pictures and he lost it. Totally lost it. We shall have no zombie pics, only a usual wedding do. But, hoo boy, that was funny.

I have the most cunning purse to carry. And cute shoes. That will kill me, probably.

And Frothlet #2 is bestman. Changed diapers. Now carrying the rings (don't lose them).

Later.

Bookie stuff

2011-08-21T11:51:00.001-05:00

All right, I, too, have lifted this from LeeAnn via a detour at Nicole's

1. The Lord Of The Rings Trilogy, by J.R.R. Tolkien-Read The Hobbit, which I thought great fun; then, read the first in the trilogy, then got through 1/2 of the second and, after I woke up, decided I needed to not be bored any more and went and got a pizza.
2. The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, by Douglas Adams-LOVED this and the others. Must reread.
3. The Ender’s Game, by Orson Scott Card3.
4. The Dune Chronicles, by Frank Herbert -Read them all. Have forgotten them all, but need to reread.
5. A Song Of Ice And Fire Series, by George R. R. Martin (In progress. it’s on the Kindle)
6. 1984, by George Orwell -Read and forgot.
7. Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury-Read and forgot, but remember enjoying. Read most of Bradbury's. Must reread.
8. The Foundation Trilogy, by Isaac Asimov-Read and forgot. Must reread. Do you sense a cranial trend here?
9. Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley -Read and forgot. Will not reread. Similar to Orwell, who wrote some other stupid depressing book that I started and then threw against the wall.
10. American Gods, by Neil Gaima

11. The Princess Bride, by William Goldman -Read and didn't he write that book about-wait! Marathon Man and Magic! Awesome.
12. The Wheel Of Time Series, by Robert Jordan
13. Animal Farm, by George Orwell-Read, remember enjoying, but I was, maybe, 12, so there you go. Orwell sucks.
14. Neuromancer, by William Gibson
15. Watchmen, by Alan Moore
16. I, Robot, by Isaac Asimov
17. Stranger In A Strange Land, by Robert Heinlein-I think I've read it, but obviously forgot it. Know it's a classic.
18. The Kingkiller Chronicles, by Patrick Rothfuss
19. Slaughterhouse-Five, by Kurt Vonnegut -Read, enjoyed, as I did most of his books. He's a bit of a blowhard now that I think about it.
20. Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley
21. Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?, by Philip K. Dick
22. The Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood-Read and LOVED. As annoying as she can be, I really like her books.
23. The Dark Tower Series, by Stephen King (Partially, here and there, bit by bit.-Ditto this remark.)
24. 2001: A Space Odyssey, by Arthur C. Clarke
25. The Stand, by Stephen King (Over and over and over.DITTO THIS, TOO.)
26. Snow Crash, by Neal Stephenson
27. The Martian Chronicles, by Ray Bradbury-Read and forgot.
28. Cat’s Cradle, by Kurt Vonnegut-Read and see above

29. The Sandman Series, by Neil Gaiman
30. A Clockwork Orange, by Anthony Burgess-Read part of it and then got annoyed.And bored.
31. Starship Troopers, by Robert Heinlein
32. Watership Down, by Richard Adams-Read and really liked.
33. Dragonflight, by Anne McCaffrey
34. The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress, by Robert Heinlein
35. A Canticle For Leibowitz, by Walter M. Miller
36. The Time Machine, by H.G. Wells
37. 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, by Jules Verne
38. Flowers For Algernon, by Daniel Keys-Read
39. The War Of The Worlds, by H.G. Wells-Recently reread it and REALLY re-enjoyed it.
40. The Chronicles Of Amber, by Roger Zelazny
41. The Belgariad, by David Eddings
42. The Mists Of Avalon, by Marion Zimmer Bradley
43. The Mistborn Series, by Brandon Sanderson
44. Ringworld, by Larry Niven
45. The Left Hand Of Darkness, by Ursula K. LeGuin
46. The Silmarillion, by J.R.R. Tolkien-I think I started it, but since it's Tolkien, ...
47. The Once And Future King, by T.H. White
48. Neverwhere, by Neil Gaiman
49. Childhood’s End, by Arthur C. Clarke
50. Contact, by Carl Sagan
51. The Hyperion Cantos, by Dan Simmons
52. Stardust, by Neil Gaiman
53. Cryptonomicon, by Neal Stephenson
54. World War Z, by Max Brooks
55.Oops. Deleted something
56. The Forever War, by Joe Haldeman
57. Small Gods, by Terry Pratchett
58. The Chronicles Of Thomas Covenant, The Unbeliever, by Stephen R. Donaldson
59. The Vorkosigan Saga, by Lois McMaster Bujold
60. Going Postal, by Terry Pratchett
61. The Mote In God’s Eye, by Larry Niven & Jerry Pournelle
62. The Sword Of Truth, by Terry Goodkind
63. The Road, by Cormac McCarthy
64. Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, by Susanna Clarke-Started it. But then...
65. I Am Legend, by Richard Matheson-Read, enjoyed, better than the movie
66. The Riftwar Saga, by Raymond E. Feist
67. The Shannara Trilogy, by Terry Brooks
68. The Conan The Barbarian Series, by R.E. Howard
69. The Farseer Trilogy, by Robin Hobb
70. The Time Traveler’s Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger
71. The Way Of Kings, by Brandon Sanderson
72. A Journey To The Center Of The Earth, by Jules Verne
73. The Legend Of Drizzt Series, by R.A. Salvatore
74. Old Man’s War, by John Scalzi
75. The Diamond Age, by Neil Stephenson
76. Rendezvous With Rama, by Arthur C. Clarke
77. The Kushiel’s Legacy Series, by Jacqueline Carey
78. The Dispossessed, by Ursula K. LeGuin
79. Something Wicked This Way Comes, by Ray Bradbury-Read, loved, etc.

80. Wicked, by Gregory Maguire -Read, loved and read his others.
81. The Malazan Book Of The Fallen Series, by Steven Erikson
82. The Eyre Affair, by Jasper Fforde-Read many of his. LOVE HIM! MUST REREAD AND READ NEW ONES!
83. The Culture Series, by Iain M. Banks
84. The Crystal Cave, by Mary Stewart-I know I read this when I was young.
85. Anathem, by Neal Stephenson
87. The Book Of The New Sun, by Gene Wolfe
88. The Thrawn Trilogy, by Timothy Zahn
89. The Outlander Series, by Diana Gabaldan
90. The Elric Saga, by Michael Moorcock
91. The Illustrated Man, by Ray Bradbury-Read, loved.

92. Sunshine, by Robin McKinley
93. A Fire Upon The Deep, by Vernor Vinge
94. The Caves Of Steel, by Isaac Asimov
95. The Mars Trilogy, by Kim Stanley Robinson
96. Lucifer’s Hammer, by Larry Niven & Jerry Pournelle-YES! End of the earth shit! Great stuff!
97. Doomsday Book, by Connie Willis
98. Perdido Street Station, by China Mieville
99. The Xanth Series, by Piers Anthony
100. The Space Trilogy, by C.S. Lewis

There is a HUGE hole in my reading, obviously. Wow.

Shoes for the dress

2011-08-21T09:45:00.000-05:00

Found some shoes that I'll be able to wear again that go with the mom-of-the- groom dress and maybe they won't kill me by making me fall as I walk up the aisle to take my blubbering mom-of-the-groom place.

Any of the shiny, sparkly shoes I saw were ugly, or the wrong color,or ugly. There weren't any that were either dark satiny green or bronze/coppery metallic. I walked throughout the entire mall yesterday. I don't do that sort of thing. It's painfully annoying what with the scary looking peeps there in their waaaay too short shorts and tank tops that don't cover the tanks. At least Dillard's came through. DSW failed me.

I also got a bronze/coppery, shimmery, chiffony (I know, too many "-ys") rectangular clutch that has the same color fabric flower on the front. It's very cool and from Charming Charlie and cost only $20! I would carry it with pajamas, it's that cute.

On the origin of family names

2011-08-20T14:06:00.000-05:00

So, we're keeping watch over our neighbors' property, which means that we're swimming in their pool and drinking their beer while Dot is a jumping, diving, fetching fool of a waterdog. It's amazing to watch.

Actually, we brought our own beer and dog. And crossword puzzle.

Mr. Froth decides to enlighten me on the backstory of how his family got its name, which happens to be Cogburn. What happened was this-during the passage through Ellis Island the TSA guys asked his great great grandfather where he had come from. I'm assuming Ellis Island was there at the time, or at least was platted.

Froth GGGF: "Scoootlund."
TSA guy: "What's your family name?"
Froth GGGF: "Sprocketflame! Nae! SPROCKETFLAME IN CAPS! Where's the scotch?"
TSA guy: "Say what? Is that a shortbread in your kilt or are you happy to see us?"
Froth GGGF: "Sprocketflame you scarvy bastiche!" (He was part pirate and Johnny Mnemonic fan.)
TSA guy: "Well, if you're gonna make it here in the new country you have to have a name that resonates with the neighborhood and future celluloid endeavors. We'll put down...."

Cogburn.

Mr. Froth made that up all by himself. Such as he does with crossword puzzle words. We were stuck on "member of a colony," which usually ends up to be ant or something. In this case we got to laper which fit with ina which fit with npbvdae, which wasn't a valid word in this universe, but we're hoping to mesh that into adverb.

Me: "Leper!"
Mr. Froth: "I don't know. Aren't there lapers in colonies somewhere in Scootlund?"
Me: "Capers go with shortbread, I think. Is that a kilt in your swimsuit or are you just overdressed?"

Nature. It's what's for sleeping.

2011-08-19T15:44:00.001-05:00

We love our nature. We do. We're big into natural shit. Like our naturally rotting deck. And naturally dying landscape. And naturally genuinely reblonded hair.

Some nature, however, is unacceptable, like that which enters our house each early morning via the roof.

We've had rats and squirrels enaht in the past make their way into the walls or up into the attic. We knew this because we heard their family fights and screw sessions while we tried to sleep back in the day. Then we had new back siding put up and were shown what and where they'd imposed themselves and thought, wow, now they're gone.

Perhaps it's global charming, and I'll blame algore for that along with just being a total douchebag, but we now have beings of undiscernible size and provenance that chewed a hole the size of the dryer ducts into the fascia or soffit or whatever the hell it is that goes into our house from the outside. It's un.be.liev.able. (I learned all the punctuation from this which was brought to my attention by her, who got it from her goat averse SO.)

Mr. Froth is headed to Home Depot to buy some wire mesh and poison and rat killing mechanisms or something to thwart further disaster. He'll tack it up and then get up at 5 a.m. to seal it up before they come in for their daylong siesta. Holy crap.

Really. Who knows how many and what are in there. Or what death-dealing boogers they're carrying.

I need wine. And to get my toes did. This just sucks.

UPDATE: We think it may be raccoons. Due to the size of the hole which is worthy of a cable company dig we've put out a trap. Our neighbors have a trap that we've used to get possums before. So, we baited that sucker with apple/peanut butter and the morning may be extremely unpleasant. Especially if there are babies floating around. We'll just have to liberate them one by one in a nearby park.

Here's the deal

2011-08-17T20:59:00.000-05:00

Based upon my observations of local/regional politics I know that most people are 94 percent clueless about how things work. My percentages may have a certain margin of error, but they're no more errant than the jackwagon that lives down the block from me who thinks he knows what's going on. And, I guarantee you, he ain't up to speed.

So, extrapolate that out nationally and you're dealing with margins of error that rival whale shark measurements in the relative grand scheme of things.

Disclaimer: I think that regardless of cluelessness, however one votes it all evens out in the long run, because you have those people who study and ruminate, froth and stew, about the issues and the candidates-And, they come out on both sides of the aisle(s), some intelligently, some legitimately, some righteously, some fullashit. Therefore, excepting the retards and psychos who skew things totally, cluelessness is no worse a basis for voting than being actually informed. Because, that's the way we roll. What people fail to realize is that the human race is fallible, is not essentially fixable and is fraught with dingleberries with which it has to deal.There is no obamacare to remove dingleberries. Or, it may BE dingleberries.

He who prevails, prevails. And when those who we think are more worthy, even though they may reek of festering skunk remains, win, it's all good. For at least four years.

Plus ca change. Plus c'est la meme.

Love and happiness

2011-08-15T20:25:00.000-05:00

A much perkier and more pleasant post. Wedding plans are afoot for #1 Frothlet, who just got back from his betrothed's hometown. Where they went boating on Grand Lake. Her folks have a lake house and a boat. We don't. He also got a free teethcleaning since as how his future f-i-l is a dentist. BONUS!!!

Speaking of Dr. Fooms, I assume you all won't be traveling to lovely OK for the nuptials. Heh. You'll be missing out on Dink's Barbecue!

The animals are all officially signed up to be boarded at the local pet repository and let me tell you, those cat condos are pretty cool. Dot the Dog will have play and stay, so every day she'll get to meet and greet the other guests. The kittehs get every other day play because they're cats. Don't let me forget to pack their food. And whip out the credit card. Which will be melting around the edges after all this is done.

#1 Frothlet paid off the wedding ring and it is a beaut. Not an ostentatious grossly overblown thing, but a very old fashioned layered flowery looking arrangement of sparklies. It's quite beauteous.

I have a feeling the bride-to-be and mom are revving up to freakout status soon.

Bleakness and Exalted Up Out of the Gutterness

2011-08-13T20:37:00.000-05:00

I'm becoming truly jaded. I'm so not intrigued by junkies in movies overcoming either their or their relatives' problems to win a fight or build a port cochere or believe they are role models.

Just watched The Fighter. Marky Mark looks older than his crackhead brother. Melissa Leo looks younger than her crackhead son and Marky Mark. I'm sorry. CASTING?!?!? Fuck the Oscar.

I reread Last Exit to Brooklyn a year or so ago, a book that was touted back in the day-outlining the existential angst and sorrow that is a junkie in NYC or whatever. I sort of reread it. I got through two chapters and thought-give me a fucking break.

Are we destined to be stewing in our adolescent reading list forever? Our adolescent movie watching forever?

I now just get pissed off about trailer trash forging ahead to make their way in America! Fuck. Watch Toddlers and Tiaras. Come up with something more original people. This is why we don't go to movies. And, mistakenly rent them. Seriously.

Toads

2011-08-09T20:44:00.000-05:00

Toads are much maligned. They're a metaphor for jerks and dickheads. They should not be that metaphor. Was that sentence a metaphor? Are we surrounded by continuous metaphors?

Anyway, toads are perky and perspicacious and plucky. They're very cool. Unlike those with whom they're associated metaphorically. Like gummint. Federal, state and local. I think toads should rise up, collectively bargain and insist upon a more righteous characterization. No. Really. Maybe not collectively bargain. Perhaps just negotiate with management. Which would be me.

So, as I age and approach my sixth decade I've come to the realization that there is pretty much a lot over which I have no control, and that many, many things cannot be fixed. Some things will continue to be broken and will not necessarily progress, just change in their obnoxiousness. Like the gummint.

When it all really, truly resembles a poorly written novel with weakly defined protagonists and pissant antagonists it's pretty much---let's go on a picnic! If it weren't so hot.

It's as if your crazy Aunt Mabel got control of your bank account, job possibilities, voters' registry and liquor supply and decided to make shit up. Let's make shit up! Let's just make. shit. up.

So. There you have it. I'm hoping that the powers that be pick up on this insight and work with it to untangle some things. Like our descent into banana republicness or general stupid.

Frying. Enervating. Hot. Dry.

2011-08-09T20:16:00.000-05:00

Enough bitching. No, I dint get picked for jury duty! They settled all the cases. Whoo hooo! I was chatting with one of the defendants before all this worked out so I figured I could have told them I was biased since she appeared to be a very sweet, young, respectful defendant. No need.

Meetings. Abound. Forever. And ever. And my butt loses more nerve endings by the week.

A giant toad was on the deck this morning and Dot had no energy to jump on it. It just slithered between the deck slats and disappeared. Sort of like my right ear as it melted at lunch and fell off onto the deck chair. It affords a bit of texture to the furniture.

The world is fucked. Luckily we don't look at whatever sparse money we have sitting in mutual funds, so we don't know what we've lost or gained. Gained? Bwahahahhahaaaaa. That is too funny.

I got a dress to wear to Frothlet 1's wedding! It's quite lovely. Here it is. I, unfortunately, do not look like this.

But, if I get a face transplant, body transplant and shoe transplant, I shall. However, it is a lovely dress. Plus, it's from the FALL LINE! I am SO au courant.

Must adjust attitude

2011-07-31T18:53:00.000-05:00

I have jury duty tomorrow. Exactly two years and two weeks since I LAST had jury duty. Work has many time sensitive things going on, with a coworker out, and it's just gonna be crunchy. So, I've been bitching to Mr. Froth and internally bitching and then I realize, maybe it's penance. They need people who are normal and who have a brain. But, still. Can I get a break? But, then, I couldn't in all good conscience try to bow out because of personal shit. But, then. Can ya give me a break?

I'm thinking positively that they won't pick me. DON'T PICK ME.

He jacks with me

2011-07-16T14:55:00.000-05:00

No, really. I don't know if it's because of the heat and humidity that seems to plague several of us all recently, lately, forever and ever, amenwe'llnevergetrealrainagaineverandwe'regonnadie.

Oh. An aside-we had .0000000007 inches of rain an hour or so ago that ratcheted up the sauna index to 5000. Thanks, clouds. Bullshit.

Anyway, Mr. Froth and I do crosswords together constantly. We sit on the porch and drink a beer or a glass of wine or more and smoke cigars and cigs and he reads the clues and I answer. Except, his routine includes "How do you spell "air" or "bee" or "ineffable" or "claxon" or " it." No. Really. He couldn't spell his happy ass out of an environmentally correct compostable yard waste bag, which, by the way, we're going to have to start buying. Please don't get me started.

So, I just go out there and he's filled in half the NYT puzzle with CORRECTLY SPELLED WORDS. Lying liar. Jacker-with of me. Unbelievable.

Earlier I swept up some dead ~~palmetto bugs~~ roaches that looked like they'd eaten steroids. We don't keep steroids in the kitchen. Or bathroom. Or my purse. Just kidding! Well, not about the steroids, but those buggers will hide anywhere.

Then, I sat down to watch SNL highlights. And then I tried to nap but my pulse is racing for some reason so I got up and ate a turkey/cheese sandwich without the bread. Because, we have NO bread. Why?

It is possible to have short skanky looking hair if sweat is the product you use on it.

My skin is luminous, though, and I'm sure I look years younger than my 800 that I feel today.

And, my toes still look good if you blur your eyes. No Fancy Feast on those digits! But I would like a toe ring.

We've been invited, surprisingly, to a nice steakhouse for dinner tonight by our neighbors who live in Guadalajara and who have an extra house in our neighborhood. They're the ones who have the Lamborghini and are sweeter than all get out and keep giving us tequila just for keeping an eye out. It's crazy-but, should I have a filet or a ribeye? We have ribeyes at home all the time, so I'm thinking a filet. And I'll have to clean up which is too tiring to contemplate right now.

No mo skank hair!

2011-07-15T23:27:00.000-05:00

I am not kidding. I got those suckers chopped! I have a layered stacked bob that moves, baby! I am styling and rolling! It feels good, um um um um um um um. Like I knew that it would.

No more skank hair. The rest of me. Eh.

Embracing the skank

2011-07-11T20:10:00.000-05:00

Keith advised me to embrace my skank. So, I've been embracing my skank for awhile and I'm ready to throw the skank to the curb. I don't care what it costs. I broke down and made an appointment to get my bulbous head hair shortened and colored by the wizard. I can't stand it anymore. It's in my mouth and eyes and even if I were to let it grow three feet it would still look like it was 10 inches long and I'd be one of those almost 60 year olds with hair dragging their face down and then I'd have to smash lipstick all over my mouth out of the lines and have makeup caked in my wrinkles and have earrings attached to my eyebrows. Or something. And wear roll up stockings and cackle.

I'm not sure there's anything wrong with cackling, however.

Turquoise ho

2011-07-09T15:49:00.000-05:00

There seems to be a thread going here. Skank. Ho. I think it's because I awoke at 2:44 a.m. today. Yes, 2:44 a.m. slept out. So I listened to an old Chris Rock HBO comedy presentation. He is funny. Totally inappropriate but SO funny. Funny funny funny.

Whatever. I awoke eventually after dozing off and hit the CVS to get things like readers and cough drops and melatonin (I've never tried that, so I'm gonna) and what struck my eye?!?!?

Not turquoise the stone. No, I'm way less maintenance than that, though I do lurves me some turquoise. No. Turquoise Okabashi flipflops! Really! Turquoise! Not the ugly brown and black ones. I had to buy them. So I did. I'm not sporting turquoise rubber flipflops that are almost comfortable.

I have a good life.

Skank hair

2011-07-09T15:45:00.000-05:00

I'm developing skank hair. You know, the roots start oozing out blaring the fact that you really REALLY need to get some color touchup. Not black roots, just mousy blonde gray roots that contrast more and more remarkably with the unfortunate pinkish cast that I inflicted upon myself a month or so ago.

I was trying to save money by not visiting my regular hair wizard who charges about $120 a pop for a cut and color. She's awesome. Fabulous. In fact, she called me when I hadn't been back in awhile and I didn't want to say "I put some cheap shit on my hair to hold me over because we have other expenses that overrule $120 hair cut/colors." I told her I would be in soon.

It's a bad idea to put cheap shit over expensive shit, because it ends up looking like cheap shit as it grows out. Is that a metaphor for something?

sigh. I'm going to let it grow out a little more and then go groveling in and beg her to fix me before Frothlet 1's wedding so that I don't represent the skank section of the inlaw parts.

In defense of jurors

2011-07-06T22:13:00.000-05:00

Of course in the wake of the Anthony verdict there are all sorts of idiots castigating the jurors for their verdict.

I maintain that if you haven't been a juror on a murder trial, or any trial for that manner, then you're blowing smoke up everybody's asses.

We operate under the rule of law and as a juror you're required to evaluate the evidence and testimony you're given along with the judge's charges. It's a very clinical thing. You HAVE to conclude things with all this in mind. You're given very specific directions. You cannot, you cannot decide someone's life based on a hunch or a feel or because you just don't like the accused. You cannot. Otherwise, you might as well live in some godforsaken despot-ridden country.

With that said, I truly believe the Anthony trial jurors had no choice other than what they did. That doesn't mean you don't think she or her family were involved in something, somewhere that contributed to the death of the child.

But, it wasn't what was on trial. It's horrible. It's heartwrenching. But.

I get tired of the beating up of jurors. The two trials I've been on have been composed of very intelligent and thinking people. When we ruled that one guy was going away for 40 years without parole, having waived the death penalty, we all cried and shook. Not that we didn't believe he was guilty, but that it was an horrific thing that we had to do, along with having seen pics of the dead guy, that we were actually doing this. But we did.

The prosecutors in the Anthony case didn't prove their case. The end. The jurors took their oaths seriously and came up with the appropriate, NON-hunch verdict.

If you have never been a juror you have no idea how seriously people take this. And forget the "CSI" bullshit pundits have been proffering. Any intelligent person knows that circumstantial evidence can convict someone. It just has to actually connect to the case it's involved in.

Sorry. Rant over.

Elder Mr. Froth

2011-07-01T20:26:00.000-05:00

As I've posted in the past Mr. Froth's dad has undergone some major adjustments. Nursing home, inability to walk, losing his mindish a bit (hell, I lost mine a long time ago), but, he's back up to conversing rather well, even though he forgets pertinent facts. Whatevs. He's eating not totally smashed up food. And, he's producing artwork through an Art Without Boundaries program at his facility. I present, and with no small amount of pride, in fact, I'm totally fucking amazed and want to cry and sell this:

Does he rock or what?

Household Perfidy

2011-06-28T18:26:00.000-05:00

And, by extension, office perfidy.

A couple of years ago I posted about the inherent evil in clothes hangers. This was before I'd deleted my blog several times and was in the throes of observational mundane humor. I went on and on about hangers.

But, I was right. You know how they are. You KNOW how they are. You're trying to clean your closet, trying to remove items you've not worn for a year or two or seven. Trying to hang up the shit you just bought and threw on the floor because the dog was eating your shoe while you were putting stuff away. So, you start pulling out random loose hangers that are completely out of sync with anything resembling organization. You notice that they've mated and have spawned baby hangers in unseemly places. And you attempt to get them into your hands in an aligned manner and they just fucking string themselves into a chain, or fall on the floor with three tops attached or poke you in the biceps.

And you swear and grab the whole mess and throw it onto the floor and toss it in the garbage. And curse them and vow never again to let them take advantage of their situation in order to vex you mightily.

Well, side table corners are worse. They rise up to attack you as you pass by, They poke you in your muscle and cause black and blue marks and hurt you. I was idly walking between the recliner and the table by the couch and the table pushed my thigh into it. That hurts. It stings. It leaves a mark. I wanted to tip it over and beat it up but it has glass in it. See. They're sneaky and deceitful and passive-aggressive and know you can't retaliate because it would make a mess.

And, there's a network between them and office desk corners and drawers. This demands an investigation. My bloody trail of skin and sinew is too much to discount the potential import of this phenomenon.

A Monday Pome

2011-06-27T19:22:00.000-05:00

The sun came up
and so did I.
I stepped in pup
y's hork, Oh my..
I should have known
the yakking sounds
meant slime and goo
were in our bounds.

The end.

Warnings! Warnings! Cigarettes et al

2011-06-26T22:51:00.000-05:00

Now, I know that cigarettes are bad. Extremely bad. Horrible. Nasty. Something to be avoided.

But, adding graphic pics to the packs, I guess, is gilding the lily. Are people crazy? Do you really think this is necessary? Do you honestly think that people who smoke don't know what it is about? How many years has it been that smoking has been examined and adjudicated?

Shall we put pictures on boxes of cereal, or yoghurt, or lemonade depicting amputated feet from diabetes?

Shall we put pictures of clogged arteries or heart attack possibilities from, ostensibly, bacon-eaters, butter-eaters, steak-eaters, chicken-eaters, french-fry-eaters , pizza-eaters, non-light salad-dressing eaters, cotton-candy-eaters, corndog-eaters and tea drinkers (tea is heavy in caffeine, which is worse than coffee, btw) and chocolate-eaters on each of the packages sold?

Should we put pictures of liver disease on every bottle of wine, scotch, vodka, bourbon, tequila, liqueur that is sold?

Should we put pictures of the radiation amount on every mammogram/mri or ultrasound that a breast cancer survivor or prostate cancer survivor has each year to remind one of what might have happened?

Should we put pictures of the rot that occurs in our brains each time we listen to dumbshits that would love to control our lives, regardless of how much we know and want to decide for ourselves?

Hey, Michelle. Lose some of that gut and butt weight. The apple shape is more likely to portent problems in the future. And, get a jacket.

Attack of the 50 Foot Woman

2011-06-26T16:28:00.000-05:00

We just watched Attack of the 50 Foot Woman. It was totally and completely awesome. I transcends B-movie status by virtue of its semi-okay acting by the peripheral people. The nasty husband was smarmy and weaselly. The deputy was great comic relief. The butler had hidden unrequited love issues. And, until she was fifty feet, Mrs. Archer was okay (and played the drunk/crazy rich woman with a certain insouciance, yet with a 50's pre/during barbiturate cleverness).The satellite/space saucer looked like a giant boob and beeped. Everybody was smoking and drinking the whole time. There were TWO! psychiatrists ruminating over her condition, with accents!

See, I couldn't figure out how come her hand was so big in her bedroom after she'd been irradiated, yet you couldn't see the rest of her. Do they have 60-foot bedrooms in the desert? And why did the deputy have a New York accent? And why was the alien guy in the beeping satellite translucent and wearing Spartacus clothes? I think he stole fifty footer's diamond necklace for the crystal abilities and wanted to make himself whole again. Yet, he picked up the police car, which magically turned into a woody station wagon and didn't completely destroy it. Then stomped off. Perhaps his less than corporeal being was undernourished.

All in all, it was a tremendous crappy movie. I highly recommend it.

Dream drivel

2011-06-26T11:27:00.000-05:00

I sent someone a fur-lined email in my head last night. I think it was lynx or sable.

And, I had two fairies caught up in leaves and twigs floating on top of my head trying to escape to the sky. I was trying to help but they kept hanging on.

Then I fell asleep.

Thank you. I'll be here all night. Leave tips in the flipflop.

Hey there! Jep update, lack of rain update, birthday update

2011-06-26T10:53:00.001-05:00

Jeez, it's been awhile. Here are my excuses:1) It's hot here. I know a lot of you live in hotville, too, or, scarier, lately, floodville. I'm sorry for that. However, that makes it no less hot here and we're in exceptional drought.
Why are we so exceptional? Because we ARE. That's why. Also,the Keetch-Byram index (Am I a scientifical sort of genius or what?) has indicated that until we received the 1.5 inches last week, we were at 750. 800 is the highest, which is when you spontaneously combust and rapturize and eat instant crispy bacon while conflagrating to death. 700 (where we're at after rain)-800 means you're really dry to the point of fireworks bans, burn bans and, SHOCK!, Mr. Froth has only grilled once this last week. I'm not making that up. It's bad. Wildfires everywhere, but thankfully not right here. We've had a nine-month drought and we're down about 18 inches. Enough weather bitching.

Except the heat turns your brain into aoli and you have problems avoiding dipping foods and can't stay awake so you go to bed early unless you drink too much wine while conversing with your kids and their fiancees/girlfriends until some weird hour on your birthday. That was the birthday update.

2) Meetings. We've had back to back meetings, including one that ended at 10 p.m. and the next day started, for me, at 6:30 a.m. I have bedsores on my ass and elbows from staying in one position for four hours at a time. Ooh. There was a moment of potential riotousness at the nighttime meeting. A co-worker and I sit at the front of the room-she's the official minute-taker, I'm the official whatever (for 10 years I was the official minute-taker for seven companies having meetings constantly, so in the transition I was ecstatic about giving that duty up. Happy days.) and we sit side-by-side. We're also front and center on the video of the meeting, well, maybe side and center, so we can't throw spitballs or swear out loud or make gross faces. In front of us is a table with cookies on it, supposedly to appease the geezers who get pissed about missing dinner. I had bought those cool krumkake round cylindery ones filled with chocolate and they enticed us as we sat. After the fourth PowerPoint presentation (no, really, there were five) I looked at her and she looked at me, both of our eyes totally scummed over with fatigue and missing rods and cones and we fell over dead.

No, not really. But, while another co-worker was standing at our table waiting to hand something out my cohort whispered, "Git me a cookie," very softly because she's a very soft, sweet person. I stared at her and responded, "Please, mister. Give me more."

At which she started to snicker and I blew out a snot bubble feeling an uncontrollable giggle-in-church reflex coming on. You know, when you start you simply can't contain yourself? If you even remotely think about what you just said, you start spazzing? So, I had to turn my back to her and concentrate on the scrawny neckof someone sitting to my left. Concentrated HARD. Discreetly wiped the snot bubble and hoped it wouldn't be noticed on the video.

But, during a short break I grabbed FIVE COOKIES! and dropped them next to my friend. We ate them like little rats in a hole trying to look like we just normally put our hands to our mouths for no reason every two seconds during a meeting while taking minutes.

Jep update-it went well. I'm in the pool for 18 months and now I need to keep relearning things, but I've been too hot to concentrate, so, maybe posting on the blog will invigorate what dessicated head juices I have left.

Merv! He weighs 10 pounds!

2011-05-22T14:27:00.002-05:00

And he really, really doesn't like folks shoving sticks up his butt. Or shots. He turned into a ball of hide-my-face-fur at the vet. With a thready purr that signified possible happiness or threatening doom. For us.

The vet tech remarked, "He's really strong for a cat his size..." as they plopped him on his side for the fecal. His eyes were bigger than I've ever seen them.

The Rap!

2011-05-21T14:35:00.001-05:00

Something's moving! I'm serious!

Flushed that sucker down.

The Jeps

2011-05-21T13:53:00.000-05:00

As in Jeopardy, the show. Oh shit. I'm going to Kansas City for an audition. It's not like I've not done it before.

See, back in the day, 1984, just after the oldest Frothlet was born, when we were living in Huntington Beach, I drove to Hollyweird and auditioned for the show. I passed the test and did the mock game and they never called me. I blame my egregiously heinous permed hair for that. I looked like Little Orphan Annie. Or, maybe they thought I sucked.

So, maybe five years ago or so I auditioned again in Houston. I passed the test and did the mock game and made them laugh, even. And they never called me. I guess they thought I sucked.

So, I've taken the online test a couple of times, the first time knowing completely that I'd bombed. The second time, back in February, I thought I did mediocre, but just forgot about it.

So, I got an email from them that I had a slot to come to KC for the in person audition. I was gobsmacked. WTF? Maybe I did better than I thought? Maybe it's a mercy call. I don't know. Regardless, I sprang for the plane ticket and hotel and am gonna do it.

Here's the problem. I've gotten older and my immediate recall on some shit is slower. I have these nightmares that if by some weird happenstance they call me to tape I'll get on the show and melt down or be one of those people everybody mocks.

And then I think-who gives a crap? Do it.

Owls and Froths

2011-05-21T13:06:00.000-05:00

So, the elderly Mr. Froth is now in the nursing home section of his retirement community. It's a NICE retirement community. Way nicer than our house, for that matter. He and the passed Mrs. Elderly Froth bought into the deal several years ago, living in the independent living section. The options for him included the assisted living and nursing home (she didn't qualify for the nursing home due to her many and varied ailments and whatevers). She passed away in 2008 and that rather precipitated elderly Mr. Froth's (EMF from now on) decline, I think.

They had a completely warped co-dependent relationship in which he cared for her and she laid in bed and bitched. But, that's old news.

Last December we moved him into assisted living and at the time he was still lucid and mobile, although suffering from awful skin problems and general angst. Then, in February? or March he slipped out of his scooter, thought he broke his hip, entered the hospital, Mr. Froth went down for ten days as did the Froth sis, came back to his room, had a drug reaction, went back in, etc. and etc. and etc. The result was inability to walk or take care of himself, so he was plopped in the nursing home. He has steadily declined, is unintelligible, incontinent, all of the things that happen when dementia and age coalesce. So, we, Mr. Froth, Froth sis, Froth sis's husband and I went down last week.

It could have been worse. Oh, the cleaning out of the apartment and the SURPRISE! two storage lockers were daunting, but not as bad as the original apartment. And, EMF perked the hell up when we were there. It's amazing what happens when you roll someone around to visit people he used to know, employees he used to know, and, remarkably still does remember, and give him an opportunity to bullshit his eyes loose.

Mind you, it's not all understandable, but it's all good. We've arranged to have someone get him rolling three or four times a week. It makes a world of difference. I was all set to get into people's faces about meds or something, but what they're doing is correct and things have stabilized. I don't know how the nurses and aides do it.

So, the fun stuff. We were sitting outside the main entrance and EMF mentioned he'd lost $4500 at the track the night before. So, we asked him, "Didja have fun?" Well, yeah. So why not? He, of course, was asleep the night before and probably lost that money at the same place that he didn't get his paycheck from them...

He also informed us that they were putting on a play or revue, but the judging was suspect, though they told him he was going to be the comedian and would probably win. I wanted to know the outcome the next day but the results were iffy. Apparently it was called Harry of Hollywood and involved sexual escapades. I cannot make this up. Oh. And a three-pound potato. Maybe that was the door prize.

EMF is a social director, knowing no strangers, a flirt and has a tremendous sense of humor (it's genetic) and even when hallucinating is just fabulous.

All in all, it was better than we expected, yet still very rough.

Oh. Owls. That would be the elderly Mrs. Froth's owl collection that nobody wanted. While inventorying the apartment items I picked up each and ever owl and got a bit weepy and thought it would be awful to just leave them for the employee auction. So, we shipped a 100 pounds of crystal and porcelain owls to our house. NOT ONE BROKE. I'm not shitting you. Plus, there are some pricey ones in there. Must decide where to put and what to do with.

Rapture and races

2011-05-21T12:51:00.000-05:00

I think it was most excellent planning that they arranged the Ironman today. Most of the participants will be done before the 6 p.m. startoff of the earthquakes, so the only ones that would be scooped into the fissures would be the stragglers. I mean, after a 3 mile or whatever swim, a 112 mile bike ride and a marathon would they really care?

Wouldn't it be funny if the rapture happened tomorrow morning? Old Harold would have to sit at the gates and explain his faulty math.

The whole shebang began today at 6 with the swim in the lovely Lake Woodlands. Mr. Froth and others had taken soundings on the waterway channel which was the final portion of it about two weeks ago and, I mean, it was SHALLOW. Like mud shallow. Some of the swimmers probably felt like salamanders. We live only a 10-15 minute walk from the park from which they began and two blocks from one of the turns for the runners, so we're cooking up some burgers and wandering down later to watch folks run/limp past.

The bike ride course meanders up throughout the county-112 miles-that makes me tired to type it-and remarkably, some of the total times for all three segments are around 8 hours. That's insane.

You have the usual bitchers who've complained about road lanes being blocked off (nothing precluding anyone from entering or exiting their neighborhoods) and the hoopla and WHY ARE YOU DISRUPTING US?!?!

Well, you idiots, the incremental hotel, restaurant and other assorted revenues coming in keep your freaking property taxes down. Ya dolts. Or, dickheads, as it were.

It's supposed to be about 92 here today, which is good preparation as a qualifier for the Kona event, but luckily it's cloudy, which is saving some people, I'm sure.

Okay then! Hello!

2011-05-20T19:07:00.000-05:00

We've been busy. Busy busy busy. Visiting the lovely climes of Fort Myers, Florida where the scooters free range and the noseeums eat the shit out of your legs.

I'm simply too tired to regale. However, maybe tomorrow I can post some fun things about Mr. Froth's dad that will make you smile. And make you wistful. If anyone still reads me...

Unless we're run over by the Ironman contestants coursing through our community while we walk Dot. Yes. We have the Ironman competition taking place here in the lovely The Woodlands. Pretty amazing.

Next.

Tick be gone

2011-04-23T17:24:00.000-05:00

If there was one. Scar almost gone. But, I quit popping the antibiotics (something I never do because I'm a GOOD DO-BEE and take my antibiotics) because they made me feel shittier than the other stuff. Test results were negative so that sucker was shooting blanks.

People! PEOPLE! Peeps has chocolate candies filled with marshmallow that taste like caramel. I'm not kidding. I went and got some crap for ratcheted down Easter baskets for various people and that crap included Peeps. Not actual Peeps, because, while I did collect them for a few years (they shed after about two) and had some really really expensive 50th anniversary Peeps, or maybe 25th anniversary. Or maybe it was a CVS anniversary. Net net is, I tossed them. The ants and cockroaches were too steroidal. BUT, these new Peeps are deadly.

Plus, I'm going to church tomorrow with a friend to an older Lutheran church so it will be an older, higher churchy liturgical service which will be cool. It's even more interesting because it's not even in the same synod as the one in which her hub pastored. Signs of the apocalypse! Then I'm coming home and taking a nap.

Plus, I just chopped off my hair and it feels wonderful and it cost nothing. And I got my toes did with neon orange by Sally Hansen. After washing the floor.

Free association much?

Bad blogger. BAD blogger

2011-04-15T20:08:00.000-05:00

So I've been busy. Or whatever. Time has been spent dealing with disheartening things and then reheartening things. And regular stuff like work and thinking about cleaning the house. Like that. And just watching all the crud happening around the world and not feeling like posting about it because it's pointless to do so. Not that we haven't had sternly worded admonitions directed at all the assholes involved in general in the privacy of our own home.

Be that as it may. We're in a severe drought situation. So we haven't been able to grill. Mr. Froth is enduring massive shakes because of that. I've actually cooked food in the oven and on the stove. Some of it was rather tasty. He's relegated to buying meat on sale and actually freezing it for the day when we have what some call "Rain."

Ooh! I had excitement. Last weekend I planted amaranthus tricolor and some more caladiums and watered and did yard crap. I was sitting in the dirt a lot. Really sitting in it because it's hard work digging holes in clay. So, as I was watering the baby plants and rinsing off my legs and feets I noticed a glob of dirt that was intractable. So, I pushed it off and thought maybe it was a brush injury and was blood or something. Nah. Just intractable dirt.

So, Monday, the day after Sunday (really, it's true) I notice a dime-sized round red patch on my right shin/calf with a cute little pus ball in the middle. WTF? Was that where I'd pushed the dirt off? How come it's so uniform?

So, Tuesday I felt like someone had run over me, queasy and achy and stayed home and slept til 2 p.m. and had fabulous dreams.

So, Wednesday, I showed a friend at work my pus ball leg and she said"GO TO THE DOCTOR. THAT LOOKS LIKE A TICK BITE." Oh. I was wondering why it didn't hurt like a fire ant bite or spider bite and thought. Hmmm. Maybe I should. So, I did. The doc lanced it, took a culture to send away and prescribed doxycycline just as a preventative.

It's going away, but isn't that fun? No bull's eye rash or anything. The queasies are gone. But, I bet you that was a fucking tick and NOT intractactable dirt I washed off my leg on Sunday.

Nature is dangerous people.