I delivered my sister's family's gifts last week, mostly so Brady could have his Santa Brady bib and his Baby's First Christmas stuff in time for, well, Christmas.
While I was there, Blane showed me all of the ornaments on their tree &mdash the Pooh bears, the Goofy, the apple bell &mdash and saved the best for last: his own Cars Lightning McQueen and Sally from last year and, new this year, Luigi and Guido. Luigi's sporting his Ferrari finery, so I told Blane:
"You'd better watch Luigi when Uncle Cary comes over; he might try to nick it."
"I don't want him to... What does 'nick it' mean?" Blane asked, shifting from alarmed to confused.
"It means he'd steal it, he'd take it."
"I don't want him to nick it!"
I assured Blane that Cary wouldn't take Luigi but likely would admire him. He seemed okay with that idea... but it'll be interesting to see whether he keeps a close eye on Cary the next time he's over.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Crazy Dog People
Yesterday morning, I heard the doorbell and looked up to see a cop car in the driveway. Ruh-roh.
I spent the next five minutes wrestling the dogs into the garage, and then opened the door to a sheriff's deputy. He said someone had reported a Chocolate Lab and a Black Lab running loose around the fairgrounds (which are a half-mile from our house), and wanted to know whether they were ours.
"No, sorry," I answered. "All of our dogs are black."
"Oh," he said. He explained he'd already talked to another Lab owner in town as well as a few other folks, and they'd all referred him to the couple who walk their dogs each morning.
"They walk every day," he added.
"That's us," I confirmed.
"Up and down 99."
"That's us."
"Male and female, four or five dogs."
"Yeah, that's us," I said yet again.
"Oh," he said. "Around 8:00?"
Just how many Rickreall couples do you think walk four dogs every morning, rain or shine, I wanted to ask, but instead I smiled and confirmed he had the right house.
We tried to brainstorm whose dogs they might be, but he'd already talked to or ruled out everyone I suggested.
Our conversation made me realize again how many people in our town have dogs, which then made me wonder again why whenever anyone finds a loses a dog, they contact us. Maybe they figure we have so many, we might not notice one more or less?
I spent the next five minutes wrestling the dogs into the garage, and then opened the door to a sheriff's deputy. He said someone had reported a Chocolate Lab and a Black Lab running loose around the fairgrounds (which are a half-mile from our house), and wanted to know whether they were ours.
"No, sorry," I answered. "All of our dogs are black."
"Oh," he said. He explained he'd already talked to another Lab owner in town as well as a few other folks, and they'd all referred him to the couple who walk their dogs each morning.
"They walk every day," he added.
"That's us," I confirmed.
"Up and down 99."
"That's us."
"Male and female, four or five dogs."
"Yeah, that's us," I said yet again.
"Oh," he said. "Around 8:00?"
Just how many Rickreall couples do you think walk four dogs every morning, rain or shine, I wanted to ask, but instead I smiled and confirmed he had the right house.
We tried to brainstorm whose dogs they might be, but he'd already talked to or ruled out everyone I suggested.
Our conversation made me realize again how many people in our town have dogs, which then made me wonder again why whenever anyone finds a loses a dog, they contact us. Maybe they figure we have so many, we might not notice one more or less?
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Uncle Santa
"That's not Santa; that's Uncle Cary!"
Our five-year-old nephew Blane, ladies and gentlemen, announcing to a room of impressionable children &mdash including his baby brother, Brady &mdash that the man in the red suit was not the mythical St. Nick but rather Blane's very real Uncle Cary.
I quickly pulled Blane to the side.
"Quiet, will ya? You wanna blow his cover?"
Huh? his face replied.
"Yes," I admitted, "That's Uncle Cary because Uncle Cary is...?"
Still blank.
"Is Santa Claus," I finished.
"No he's not!" Blane scoffed.
"Uh, yeah."
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yuh-huh," I countered.
"Yuh-huh what?"
We both turned to find my six-year-old niece, Abby, had joined us.
"Aunt Darcy says Uncle Cary is Santa," Blane said in a tone of wavering doubt.
"No he's not," Abby said with a dramatic eye roll.
"Have you ever seen Uncle Cary on Christmas Eve?" I asked. "The few times you've seen him Christmas Day, hasn't he looked sleepy?"
"Santa lives at the North Pole," Abby stated, crossing her arms to reinforce the fact.
"Yeah," Blane added, also crossing his arms.
"That's what we want people to believe. Who would think to look for Santa in Rickreall, Oregon?"
Their arms dropped a little, their united front weakening. I made a good point, their furrowed brows said.
While they deliberated, Abby's brother, Drew, barreled past to stage-dive a pile of presents. That little linebacker may only be a year and a half, but he's as fearless as a rookie stuntman.
Blane brightened and pointed a finger at me.
"You and Uncle Cary don't have any reindeer!"
"Yeah!" Abby shouted.
"Who needs reindeer when we have four big dogs? Sherman could pull a sleigh all by himself."
"Yeah," Abby said, less enthused.
"Besides," I continued, "who needs a sleigh when..."
Blane's eyes widened, the truth coming into focus.
"Uncle Cary delivers presents in his race car?!"
"What else would make it around the whole world in one night."
"So Santa's Workshop..." Abby said, climbing aboard the I Believe Express.
"Is your Uncle Cary's shop, mmm-hmm."
"Does he have elves?"
"Doesn't need 'em," I waved. "He has power tools. And Internet access."
"How does he get down the chimney?" Blane asked.
"And what about kids who don't have chimneys?" Abby added.
"And where &mdash"
"Sorry; trade secrets," I said. "I've told you too much already &mdash but only because I trust you two can keep our secret. You can keep it a secret, can't you?"
Blane scowled and considered, taking the matter very seriously. After a long moment, he looked up and nodded once. I looked to Abby, who also nodded agreement.
"Good," I smiled. "Now let's go see whether 'Santa' is ready for a break, shall we?"
"Riiiight," they giggled together. "Santa!"
Our five-year-old nephew Blane, ladies and gentlemen, announcing to a room of impressionable children &mdash including his baby brother, Brady &mdash that the man in the red suit was not the mythical St. Nick but rather Blane's very real Uncle Cary.
I quickly pulled Blane to the side.
"Quiet, will ya? You wanna blow his cover?"
Huh? his face replied.
"Yes," I admitted, "That's Uncle Cary because Uncle Cary is...?"
Still blank.
"Is Santa Claus," I finished.
"No he's not!" Blane scoffed.
"Uh, yeah."
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yuh-huh," I countered.
"Yuh-huh what?"
We both turned to find my six-year-old niece, Abby, had joined us.
"Aunt Darcy says Uncle Cary is Santa," Blane said in a tone of wavering doubt.
"No he's not," Abby said with a dramatic eye roll.
"Have you ever seen Uncle Cary on Christmas Eve?" I asked. "The few times you've seen him Christmas Day, hasn't he looked sleepy?"
"Santa lives at the North Pole," Abby stated, crossing her arms to reinforce the fact.
"Yeah," Blane added, also crossing his arms.
"That's what we want people to believe. Who would think to look for Santa in Rickreall, Oregon?"
Their arms dropped a little, their united front weakening. I made a good point, their furrowed brows said.
While they deliberated, Abby's brother, Drew, barreled past to stage-dive a pile of presents. That little linebacker may only be a year and a half, but he's as fearless as a rookie stuntman.
Blane brightened and pointed a finger at me.
"You and Uncle Cary don't have any reindeer!"
"Yeah!" Abby shouted.
"Who needs reindeer when we have four big dogs? Sherman could pull a sleigh all by himself."
"Yeah," Abby said, less enthused.
"Besides," I continued, "who needs a sleigh when..."
Blane's eyes widened, the truth coming into focus.
"Uncle Cary delivers presents in his race car?!"
"What else would make it around the whole world in one night."
"So Santa's Workshop..." Abby said, climbing aboard the I Believe Express.
"Is your Uncle Cary's shop, mmm-hmm."
"Does he have elves?"
"Doesn't need 'em," I waved. "He has power tools. And Internet access."
"How does he get down the chimney?" Blane asked.
"And what about kids who don't have chimneys?" Abby added.
"And where &mdash"
"Sorry; trade secrets," I said. "I've told you too much already &mdash but only because I trust you two can keep our secret. You can keep it a secret, can't you?"
Blane scowled and considered, taking the matter very seriously. After a long moment, he looked up and nodded once. I looked to Abby, who also nodded agreement.
"Good," I smiled. "Now let's go see whether 'Santa' is ready for a break, shall we?"
"Riiiight," they giggled together. "Santa!"
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
The Orchid Experirment
I learned at an early age that houseplants can be fickle friends.
Oh sure, they start out all lush and fat, full of promises of indoor greenery with minimal care — "Just water me, give me some light, how could you go wrong?" — but a few weeks later my mom and I would be staring at a whithered stick in a pot that would make Charlie Brown's tree look worthy of Rockefeller Center.
So we fell back on the hardiest of hardy houseplants: spider plants for her, ivy for me.
Which is not to say I gave up trying to cultivate other plants (my previous post shows that), but one genus of which I steered clear was orchids. Not only did they seem as temperamental as Veruca Salt, they were EXPENSIVE. No way was I gonna plunk down that kind of money for something doomed to die.
Until yesterday, that is.
I went to Wal-mart for bird food — three varieties of bird food, to be exact — and there they were: orchids. Tall, slender, deliciously delicate orchids in simple aluminum pots. I felt myself drawn closer.
Only $10, the sign read. Easy care, the snowflake tag promised.
I bit my lower lip, considering.
They are awfully pretty, I thought. And $10 isn't that much to risk....
Obviously I took the plunge, and am now either on my way to expanding my plant-growing comfort zone or relearning a painful lesson. Fingers crossed for the first outcome!
Oh sure, they start out all lush and fat, full of promises of indoor greenery with minimal care — "Just water me, give me some light, how could you go wrong?" — but a few weeks later my mom and I would be staring at a whithered stick in a pot that would make Charlie Brown's tree look worthy of Rockefeller Center.
So we fell back on the hardiest of hardy houseplants: spider plants for her, ivy for me.
Which is not to say I gave up trying to cultivate other plants (my previous post shows that), but one genus of which I steered clear was orchids. Not only did they seem as temperamental as Veruca Salt, they were EXPENSIVE. No way was I gonna plunk down that kind of money for something doomed to die.
Until yesterday, that is.
I went to Wal-mart for bird food — three varieties of bird food, to be exact — and there they were: orchids. Tall, slender, deliciously delicate orchids in simple aluminum pots. I felt myself drawn closer.
Only $10, the sign read. Easy care, the snowflake tag promised.
I bit my lower lip, considering.
They are awfully pretty, I thought. And $10 isn't that much to risk....
Obviously I took the plunge, and am now either on my way to expanding my plant-growing comfort zone or relearning a painful lesson. Fingers crossed for the first outcome!
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
December Flowers?
Our three so-called Christmas Cacti have been blooming since two weeks before Thanksgiving... but they're not alone out there in the sunroom. In addition to the cacti...
We also have flowers on a geranium:
An azalea:
And a Wandering Jew:
My citrus shrubs &mdash I can't bring myself to call them "trees" &mdash had blooms in early November, but are now putting on honest-to-goodness fruit. Right now they all look like limes, so I'll post photos of them as soon as they show some color.
We also have flowers on a geranium:
An azalea:
And a Wandering Jew:
My citrus shrubs &mdash I can't bring myself to call them "trees" &mdash had blooms in early November, but are now putting on honest-to-goodness fruit. Right now they all look like limes, so I'll post photos of them as soon as they show some color.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Gobble-gobble
Happy Almost Turkey Day!
We were planning to go to my brother's for Thanksgiving, which meant we made the four-hours-one-way trek to my aunt's house in Eastern Oregon for a family dinner last Saturday and the four-hours-one-way trek to Cary's grandmother's in Southern Oregon the Saturday before that.
Tomorrow would have finished our series of road trips (luckily my brother's house is less than an hour away), but then yesterday afternoon, my brother called to disinvite us. Apparently he has strep throat AND the flu AND pneumonia. Gees, kid. If you didn't want us to come over, you could have just said so; you didn't have to get so elaborate!
So yesterday I drove over to Costco and fought the mob to get a mini-turkey &mdash also known as a rotisserie chicken &mdash and, even more important, a pumpkin pie. Sure, I could have baked my own, but why bother when Costco's costs the same as the ingredients, if not less? Plus then we would have had two pies.
Huh. I phrased that like it's a bad thing, didn't I?
We were planning to go to my brother's for Thanksgiving, which meant we made the four-hours-one-way trek to my aunt's house in Eastern Oregon for a family dinner last Saturday and the four-hours-one-way trek to Cary's grandmother's in Southern Oregon the Saturday before that.
Tomorrow would have finished our series of road trips (luckily my brother's house is less than an hour away), but then yesterday afternoon, my brother called to disinvite us. Apparently he has strep throat AND the flu AND pneumonia. Gees, kid. If you didn't want us to come over, you could have just said so; you didn't have to get so elaborate!
So yesterday I drove over to Costco and fought the mob to get a mini-turkey &mdash also known as a rotisserie chicken &mdash and, even more important, a pumpkin pie. Sure, I could have baked my own, but why bother when Costco's costs the same as the ingredients, if not less? Plus then we would have had two pies.
Huh. I phrased that like it's a bad thing, didn't I?
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Sorry, Sue!
"You cheated on Sue!"
That was Cary's pronouncement during our Tuesday evening walk. I had to admit he was right &mdash technically &mdash but I also had sorta hoped he wouldn't notice that part of my story.
Sue and I were supposed to have a day of Goodwill Hunting this past Wednesday. Like all of our outings, I had looked forward to it for days, had practically counted down the last few hours, when tragedy struck: One of her friends had passed away. She had to cancel.
I understood, of course, but I couldn't help being disappointed.
I had other things to do in Salem &mdash errands thwarted by bad timing the week before &mdash so I decided to go alone. I knew it wouldn't be as much fun, but maybe I'd find some treasure that would make it worthwhile.
After my Coinstar encounter (read the previous entry if you're curious), I visited the North Salem Goodwill. OUR Goodwill, Sue might say. I sent up the hope she'd forgive me as I walked inside.
In the front display case, I saw a crystal bowl we'd seen on an earlier trip. If I remembered correctly, it should have a purple tag &mdash and therefore would be half-price this week.
I asked to see it. The woman carefully lifted it out, glanced at the bottom, and then smiled.
"Guess what?" she beamed.
It's half-price? I thought.
"It's half-price," she said, and handed it over. I can't say whether I was happier to get it half-price or that my memory was accurate... but either way, into the basket it went.
At the same counter I noticed a Fitz and Floyd lidded pumpkin in muted sage. It also sported a purple tag, and also went into the basket. The Coinstar Bad Shopping Juju Exorcism had worked.
Elsewhere in the store I found a little purple-tagged Boyds bear and not one but two of the Pfaltzgraff footed mugs my Aunt Merelyn's been wanting. Their tags were blue, meaning no additional discount, but at only $1.99 each, I wasn't complaining. Those babies usually go for $8 each, even on eBay.
Treasures in hand, I went to check out. The cashier picked up the ceramic pumpkin.
"This might be considered Halloween, which means it won't be half-off," she said.
I figured she meant Thanksgiving or Seasonal, but I got the drift. She held it up and got the attention of another cashier.
"Would this be Hallow&mdash"
Before she could finish, the bottom of the pumpkin slipped from her hand and smashed on the counter. She surveyed the shards for a second, and then slowly raised wide eyes.
"I'm so sorry," she said.
"Accidents happen," I shrugged.
She exhaled relief... then told me about a time at a previous job when a customer brought up a cookie jar &mdash "The last one, they said. They were so happy to find it." &mdash and she'd accidentally slipped and broken its base.
"They weren't as nice about it as you," she added.
Yeah, well, I'm not even supposed to be here, I thought.
After dropping the Styrofoam, buying a few groceries, and filling the car with gas, I decided to detour to the South Salem Goodwill. I hadn't had any luck finding Levi's for Cary at the North Salem location and figured it was worth a try. (So if you really think about it, he's partly to blame.)
I found two pairs of his Levi's 501s, one of which looked brand new but at a third of the brand-new price. Have I mentioned how much I love Goodwill?
I cruised the remainder of my usual aisles and caught up with a woman humming along with the music. Now, I've been known to not just sing along but also dance to the music at Safeway &mdash much to Nephew Blane's delight, especially if his mom joins in &mdash so I wasn't about to judge.
"Is this Ann Murray?" the woman asked.
"Sounds like The Carpenters to me," I answered.
"I think you're right. Very pretty."
I nodded and let her finish the song.
"Have you seen any gravy boats?" she asked.
"Sorry."
"I need a new one. Grandkids keep breaking mine. I thought maybe if I could find a metal one,..."
"Or one of Melamine, or some other plastic?" I offered.
"Yeah! I didn't think of that, but yeah."
"Well, good luck," I said and passed by.
I crossed paths with her again up front by the jackets. (So sue me. Some women love shoes; I love jackets.)
"Did you find a gravy boat?" I asked.
"No," she said, and then smiled. "That looks like it fits nice."
I was standing before a mirror, trying on a purple J. Jill corduroy blazer. Purple in both color and price tag.
"It does," I confirmed. "Even with a sweatshirt underneath. So if I had on the type of shirt I should wear with it,..."
"Is it comfortable?"
I nodded and crossed my arms in front. "It even has a bit of stretch."
"Oh, that's nice," she said, and then held out the arms of another blazer. "I kind of like this one."
"It is a pretty red," I agreed. "A nice Christmas red."
She nodded but frowned. "It's tagged a Large, though."
"I don't go by the tags. My closet has everything from an extra-small to an extra-large, and it all fits about the same."
She frowned at it a bit longer, then put it on, saying, "I always think I'm bigger than I am."
I get accused of that, too, I thought. I stepped back and motioned to the mirror. We both admired how nice the fitted jacket looked on her.
"I already have several jackets, though," she said.
"So do I; but at these prices..."
She smiled and nodded. We'd each get a jacket.
"Nice shopping with you," I said as I turned to go.
"Nice shopping with you," she replied. "Likewise."
And that, my friends, is the exchange that prompted Cary to label me a cheater.
Maybe he's right. But if anyone can forgive, it's Sweet Sue.
That was Cary's pronouncement during our Tuesday evening walk. I had to admit he was right &mdash technically &mdash but I also had sorta hoped he wouldn't notice that part of my story.
Sue and I were supposed to have a day of Goodwill Hunting this past Wednesday. Like all of our outings, I had looked forward to it for days, had practically counted down the last few hours, when tragedy struck: One of her friends had passed away. She had to cancel.
I understood, of course, but I couldn't help being disappointed.
I had other things to do in Salem &mdash errands thwarted by bad timing the week before &mdash so I decided to go alone. I knew it wouldn't be as much fun, but maybe I'd find some treasure that would make it worthwhile.
After my Coinstar encounter (read the previous entry if you're curious), I visited the North Salem Goodwill. OUR Goodwill, Sue might say. I sent up the hope she'd forgive me as I walked inside.
In the front display case, I saw a crystal bowl we'd seen on an earlier trip. If I remembered correctly, it should have a purple tag &mdash and therefore would be half-price this week.
I asked to see it. The woman carefully lifted it out, glanced at the bottom, and then smiled."Guess what?" she beamed.
It's half-price? I thought.
"It's half-price," she said, and handed it over. I can't say whether I was happier to get it half-price or that my memory was accurate... but either way, into the basket it went.
At the same counter I noticed a Fitz and Floyd lidded pumpkin in muted sage. It also sported a purple tag, and also went into the basket. The Coinstar Bad Shopping Juju Exorcism had worked.
Elsewhere in the store I found a little purple-tagged Boyds bear and not one but two of the Pfaltzgraff footed mugs my Aunt Merelyn's been wanting. Their tags were blue, meaning no additional discount, but at only $1.99 each, I wasn't complaining. Those babies usually go for $8 each, even on eBay.
Treasures in hand, I went to check out. The cashier picked up the ceramic pumpkin."This might be considered Halloween, which means it won't be half-off," she said.
I figured she meant Thanksgiving or Seasonal, but I got the drift. She held it up and got the attention of another cashier.
"Would this be Hallow&mdash"
Before she could finish, the bottom of the pumpkin slipped from her hand and smashed on the counter. She surveyed the shards for a second, and then slowly raised wide eyes.
"I'm so sorry," she said.
"Accidents happen," I shrugged.
She exhaled relief... then told me about a time at a previous job when a customer brought up a cookie jar &mdash "The last one, they said. They were so happy to find it." &mdash and she'd accidentally slipped and broken its base.
"They weren't as nice about it as you," she added.
Yeah, well, I'm not even supposed to be here, I thought.
After dropping the Styrofoam, buying a few groceries, and filling the car with gas, I decided to detour to the South Salem Goodwill. I hadn't had any luck finding Levi's for Cary at the North Salem location and figured it was worth a try. (So if you really think about it, he's partly to blame.)
I found two pairs of his Levi's 501s, one of which looked brand new but at a third of the brand-new price. Have I mentioned how much I love Goodwill?
I cruised the remainder of my usual aisles and caught up with a woman humming along with the music. Now, I've been known to not just sing along but also dance to the music at Safeway &mdash much to Nephew Blane's delight, especially if his mom joins in &mdash so I wasn't about to judge.
"Is this Ann Murray?" the woman asked.
"Sounds like The Carpenters to me," I answered.
"I think you're right. Very pretty."
I nodded and let her finish the song.
"Have you seen any gravy boats?" she asked.
"Sorry."
"I need a new one. Grandkids keep breaking mine. I thought maybe if I could find a metal one,..."
"Or one of Melamine, or some other plastic?" I offered.
"Yeah! I didn't think of that, but yeah."
"Well, good luck," I said and passed by.
I crossed paths with her again up front by the jackets. (So sue me. Some women love shoes; I love jackets.)
"Did you find a gravy boat?" I asked.
"No," she said, and then smiled. "That looks like it fits nice."
I was standing before a mirror, trying on a purple J. Jill corduroy blazer. Purple in both color and price tag.
"It does," I confirmed. "Even with a sweatshirt underneath. So if I had on the type of shirt I should wear with it,..."
"Is it comfortable?"
I nodded and crossed my arms in front. "It even has a bit of stretch."
"Oh, that's nice," she said, and then held out the arms of another blazer. "I kind of like this one."
"It is a pretty red," I agreed. "A nice Christmas red."
She nodded but frowned. "It's tagged a Large, though."
"I don't go by the tags. My closet has everything from an extra-small to an extra-large, and it all fits about the same."
She frowned at it a bit longer, then put it on, saying, "I always think I'm bigger than I am."
I get accused of that, too, I thought. I stepped back and motioned to the mirror. We both admired how nice the fitted jacket looked on her.
"I already have several jackets, though," she said.
"So do I; but at these prices..."
She smiled and nodded. We'd each get a jacket.
"Nice shopping with you," I said as I turned to go.
"Nice shopping with you," she replied. "Likewise."
And that, my friends, is the exchange that prompted Cary to label me a cheater.
Maybe he's right. But if anyone can forgive, it's Sweet Sue.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Coinstar Conquered
How sad is it when someone considers her day productive after dropping off recycling and cashing in coins?
In my defense, weak as it is, the recycling involved Styrofoam, which is accepted at one only place in our area and otherwise would have gone to a landfill, and the coins were redeemed at a somewhat distant Coinstar machine.
Why go to so much trouble for spare change, you may wonder? Why, to take advantage of Coinstar's current promotion, of course! If you cash in $40 or more in change for an e-certificate, they'll send you a certificate for an additional $10. (The offer details are available at www.coinstar.com/us/html/2009Promo.)
Last week I'd hunted down a machine that offers the certificates (apparently not all do) only to find it out of service. This time I called ahead and asked: Is it in service? Does it in fact offer the certificates?
"Yes to both," a young man said after checking the machine. Excellent.
I poured in my coins and worked them into the thin slot. I'd quickly pre-counted them to make sure I had $40 (which I'd thought I did, barely). Turns out I'd counted too quickly; the counter slowed and stopped at $39 and change. I had a few coins in my pocket and tossed them in. The counter ticked again... to $39.99.
Really? I was gonna miss out by one cent?
I noticed the coin return, and there it was: one lone penny. Bless you, Mr. Lincoln. I dropped him in the slot, only to have him chewed and spit out again. Tried a third time; same result. Guess there was a reason he was being rejected.
Refusing to let a penny stand between me and my free 10 bucks, I looked around, hoping I might catch a sympathetic cashier's eye. A woman running a Western Union booth turned off her light and opened the door to leave, but stopped when she noticed me.
"May I help you?" she asked.
"I don't suppose you'd break a dollar for me?"
She hesitated.
"I don't care how you break it," I added; "I'm just going to put it in that machine."
She cocked her head a notch, either intrigued or confused.
"I'm at $39.99, and you have to redeem $40 to earn a bonus. I'm so close. Actually I have the last penny, but the machine keeps spitting it out."
She smiled and nodded. Bless you, Ms. Western Union.
I now have a Lowe's e-certificate for $40.99 and a form to mail in for my bonus. Better yet, it seems my run of Bad Shopping Juju has passed. Here's hoping it stays away until after Black Friday weekend.
In my defense, weak as it is, the recycling involved Styrofoam, which is accepted at one only place in our area and otherwise would have gone to a landfill, and the coins were redeemed at a somewhat distant Coinstar machine.
Why go to so much trouble for spare change, you may wonder? Why, to take advantage of Coinstar's current promotion, of course! If you cash in $40 or more in change for an e-certificate, they'll send you a certificate for an additional $10. (The offer details are available at www.coinstar.com/us/html/2009Promo.)
Last week I'd hunted down a machine that offers the certificates (apparently not all do) only to find it out of service. This time I called ahead and asked: Is it in service? Does it in fact offer the certificates?
"Yes to both," a young man said after checking the machine. Excellent.
I poured in my coins and worked them into the thin slot. I'd quickly pre-counted them to make sure I had $40 (which I'd thought I did, barely). Turns out I'd counted too quickly; the counter slowed and stopped at $39 and change. I had a few coins in my pocket and tossed them in. The counter ticked again... to $39.99.
Really? I was gonna miss out by one cent?
I noticed the coin return, and there it was: one lone penny. Bless you, Mr. Lincoln. I dropped him in the slot, only to have him chewed and spit out again. Tried a third time; same result. Guess there was a reason he was being rejected.
Refusing to let a penny stand between me and my free 10 bucks, I looked around, hoping I might catch a sympathetic cashier's eye. A woman running a Western Union booth turned off her light and opened the door to leave, but stopped when she noticed me.
"May I help you?" she asked.
"I don't suppose you'd break a dollar for me?"
She hesitated.
"I don't care how you break it," I added; "I'm just going to put it in that machine."
She cocked her head a notch, either intrigued or confused.
"I'm at $39.99, and you have to redeem $40 to earn a bonus. I'm so close. Actually I have the last penny, but the machine keeps spitting it out."
She smiled and nodded. Bless you, Ms. Western Union.
I now have a Lowe's e-certificate for $40.99 and a form to mail in for my bonus. Better yet, it seems my run of Bad Shopping Juju has passed. Here's hoping it stays away until after Black Friday weekend.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Bad Jujubes
Despite the rain yesterday, I headed into Salem to run errands. Right off the tee, things weren't looking good.
My first stop was the Styrofoam recycling center, which was closed for Veterans' Day. What, veterans don't recycle? I'd hauled a trunk-load of Styrofoam all that way for nothing. At least it's light.
Next I went to Target, only to learn A) the candles they have on sale are only certain (gross) holiday scents and B) the cool Mr. Potato Head Spud Buds they were rumored to have aren't stocked at the Salem store.
Given my crap luck thus far, one would think I'd be discouraged. One would be wrong. Instead I thought: "I'll go to Toys R Us! The website said the items are in stock; maybe my luck will turn around!" Yeah. Maybe not. They had one item out of eight I was seeking, and you needed seven to earn a gift card and make it a good deal.
Curses.
I looped around, picked up lunch, and came home. As Cary and I were eating, the sun came out. A sign, I wondered? I decided to try my luck with Dallas errands.
Once again I trusted an on-line site's claim &mdash this time by Coinstar &mdash as to what's available in a particular store, so I knew I might be setting myself up for disappointment. But as I pulled into the parking lot, I saw lights. I saw an OPEN sign. I saw the Coinstar machine just inside the door. Things were lookin' up.
Taped to the front of the Big Green Coinstar Machine, however, I saw something else: a hand-written OUT OF SERVICE sign.
"Oh come on!" I said.
A young woman watched me, wide-eyed, straightening nervously as I approached.
"Do you know when it'll be repaired?" I asked her, motioning to the machine.
"Sorry," she said.
"Do you think it will be done within the week?" I asked.
She smiled apologies again, and then offered, "Wal-mart has one."
"Yeah, but theirs doesn't offer gift cards; just cash. I was hoping to do the gift card thing."
"Oh. Sorry," she said, then added brightly, "Maybe you could call between 9:00 and 5:00, ask someone on the day shift?"
(Which I did, only to have it go like this:
"Hi! I came in last night to use the Coinstar machine and found it's out of service. One of your employees said I should call during the day and ask when it's expected to be repaired?'
"Just a second," the woman said, and held the phone a few inches away. "Someone wants to know when the Coinstar machine'll be fixed."
"We don't know," a man said.
"We don't know," the woman repeated into the phone.
"Do you have a ballpark?" I pressed. "A week? Two weeks?"
"We don't know," she said again. "Try back in a few days."
Okey doke.)
By this point my bad luck had become amusing. How bad could it get, I wondered. Cary's grandmother turns 85 on Friday, so I stopped at the Dollar Tree to get her a card. They had cards for an 80th birthday, and they had cards for a 90th birthday. But apparently an 85th birthday doesn't rate.
I went next door to Safeway. No special "85 and Glad to Be Alive" cards there, either.
To the Soda aisle! Where Pepsi is 88 cents a two-liter! Where... they had exactly one Diet Mt. Dew (Cary's flavor) and zero Pepsi One (mine). I was on the verge of Charlie Brown-worthy "Arghh!" when I decided to check the end cap. There I found an entire shelf of Diet Mt. Dew. Saints be praised.
Sue and I are planning another Goodwill Hunting outing for next Wednesday, so fingers crossed I've worked out all of my bad shopping juju.
My first stop was the Styrofoam recycling center, which was closed for Veterans' Day. What, veterans don't recycle? I'd hauled a trunk-load of Styrofoam all that way for nothing. At least it's light.
Next I went to Target, only to learn A) the candles they have on sale are only certain (gross) holiday scents and B) the cool Mr. Potato Head Spud Buds they were rumored to have aren't stocked at the Salem store.
Given my crap luck thus far, one would think I'd be discouraged. One would be wrong. Instead I thought: "I'll go to Toys R Us! The website said the items are in stock; maybe my luck will turn around!" Yeah. Maybe not. They had one item out of eight I was seeking, and you needed seven to earn a gift card and make it a good deal.
Curses.
I looped around, picked up lunch, and came home. As Cary and I were eating, the sun came out. A sign, I wondered? I decided to try my luck with Dallas errands.
Once again I trusted an on-line site's claim &mdash this time by Coinstar &mdash as to what's available in a particular store, so I knew I might be setting myself up for disappointment. But as I pulled into the parking lot, I saw lights. I saw an OPEN sign. I saw the Coinstar machine just inside the door. Things were lookin' up.
Taped to the front of the Big Green Coinstar Machine, however, I saw something else: a hand-written OUT OF SERVICE sign.
"Oh come on!" I said.
A young woman watched me, wide-eyed, straightening nervously as I approached.
"Do you know when it'll be repaired?" I asked her, motioning to the machine.
"Sorry," she said.
"Do you think it will be done within the week?" I asked.
She smiled apologies again, and then offered, "Wal-mart has one."
"Yeah, but theirs doesn't offer gift cards; just cash. I was hoping to do the gift card thing."
"Oh. Sorry," she said, then added brightly, "Maybe you could call between 9:00 and 5:00, ask someone on the day shift?"
(Which I did, only to have it go like this:
"Hi! I came in last night to use the Coinstar machine and found it's out of service. One of your employees said I should call during the day and ask when it's expected to be repaired?'
"Just a second," the woman said, and held the phone a few inches away. "Someone wants to know when the Coinstar machine'll be fixed."
"We don't know," a man said.
"We don't know," the woman repeated into the phone.
"Do you have a ballpark?" I pressed. "A week? Two weeks?"
"We don't know," she said again. "Try back in a few days."
Okey doke.)
By this point my bad luck had become amusing. How bad could it get, I wondered. Cary's grandmother turns 85 on Friday, so I stopped at the Dollar Tree to get her a card. They had cards for an 80th birthday, and they had cards for a 90th birthday. But apparently an 85th birthday doesn't rate.
I went next door to Safeway. No special "85 and Glad to Be Alive" cards there, either.
To the Soda aisle! Where Pepsi is 88 cents a two-liter! Where... they had exactly one Diet Mt. Dew (Cary's flavor) and zero Pepsi One (mine). I was on the verge of Charlie Brown-worthy "Arghh!" when I decided to check the end cap. There I found an entire shelf of Diet Mt. Dew. Saints be praised.
Sue and I are planning another Goodwill Hunting outing for next Wednesday, so fingers crossed I've worked out all of my bad shopping juju.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Santa Brady
I know it's a little early to wrap holiday gifts &mdash we haven't finished our Halloween candy yet, let alone gorged on Thanksgiving &mdash but our Gift Closet overflowth, and I can't very well just leave presents sitting around for snoopy friends and family to find.
Besides, it gave me a reason to finish Nephew Brady's latest bib:
I think it turned out pretty well considering I designed it on the fly, but I can't say I'm as thrilled with an unanticipated side effect: catching myself humming "Santa Baby" over and over.
Luckily I just added another less-than-traditional Christmas song to our iPods, so Eartha is starting to fade. Thank you, Eric Idle!
Besides, it gave me a reason to finish Nephew Brady's latest bib:
I think it turned out pretty well considering I designed it on the fly, but I can't say I'm as thrilled with an unanticipated side effect: catching myself humming "Santa Baby" over and over. Luckily I just added another less-than-traditional Christmas song to our iPods, so Eartha is starting to fade. Thank you, Eric Idle!
Friday, November 6, 2009
Soap-on-a-Rope
Good gravy, has it really been a month since my last post?!
I can't account for the first two weeks, but I know the last two were lost to the cold/flu/whatever-nastiness-it-was that settled on our household (and is taking its sweet time leaving). To celebrate our quasi-recovery &mdash and Cary's birthday &mdash my friend Sue invited us out to dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant.
"No thanks," Cary said. "You two go ahead."
Sue looked at me, understandably confused. No thanks to a birthday dinner? No thanks to great Mexican food? Was the boy still ill? After a bit of coaxing he agreed to join us, if only for the company.
"Cary doesn't get too excited about birthdays or holidays," I explained at the restaurant.
"When you expect soap-on-a-rope and Toughskins underwear, it's hard to get excited about presents," Cary said.
"Oh, man; I got soap-on-a-rope, too!" I said.
"Soap on a rope?" Sue asked.
"You never got soap-on-a-rope?"
Sue shook her head.
"Every year," I said, "I'd get another soap-on-a-rope. And every year, it would end up in a drawer. 'Cause who would actually use it? It's like, 'Gees, grandma; I'm not going to prison.'"
Sue erupted in teary laughter, perhaps delighted at the thought of someone thoughtfully selecting gifts for soon-to-be-incarcerated grandchildren.
"Mine were all animals," I continued, then had to think: a cow? A lamb, maybe? "I know at least one was a big-ass Poodle."
"Mine were worse," Cary challenged.
"What could be worse than a giant Poodle soap-on-a-rope?" I asked.
"Praying hands," he said calmly.
Sue and I both burst out laughing, which of course got Cary laughing. And then coughing. But we couldn't stop. Because really: how are you supposed to wash your butt with praying hands soap-on-a-rope?
I can't account for the first two weeks, but I know the last two were lost to the cold/flu/whatever-nastiness-it-was that settled on our household (and is taking its sweet time leaving). To celebrate our quasi-recovery &mdash and Cary's birthday &mdash my friend Sue invited us out to dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant.
"No thanks," Cary said. "You two go ahead."
Sue looked at me, understandably confused. No thanks to a birthday dinner? No thanks to great Mexican food? Was the boy still ill? After a bit of coaxing he agreed to join us, if only for the company.
"Cary doesn't get too excited about birthdays or holidays," I explained at the restaurant.
"When you expect soap-on-a-rope and Toughskins underwear, it's hard to get excited about presents," Cary said.
"Oh, man; I got soap-on-a-rope, too!" I said.
"Soap on a rope?" Sue asked."You never got soap-on-a-rope?"
Sue shook her head.
"Every year," I said, "I'd get another soap-on-a-rope. And every year, it would end up in a drawer. 'Cause who would actually use it? It's like, 'Gees, grandma; I'm not going to prison.'"
Sue erupted in teary laughter, perhaps delighted at the thought of someone thoughtfully selecting gifts for soon-to-be-incarcerated grandchildren.
"Mine were all animals," I continued, then had to think: a cow? A lamb, maybe? "I know at least one was a big-ass Poodle."
"Mine were worse," Cary challenged.
"What could be worse than a giant Poodle soap-on-a-rope?" I asked.
"Praying hands," he said calmly.
Sue and I both burst out laughing, which of course got Cary laughing. And then coughing. But we couldn't stop. Because really: how are you supposed to wash your butt with praying hands soap-on-a-rope?
Monday, October 5, 2009
The Stair Sled
My sister's family's house is one of those new three-story numbers, which means they have several flights of stairs. Her oldest, Blane, tries to sit and slide down them (who wouldn't?), but he ends up traveling in a series of jarring bumps.
We decided he needed a piece of cardboard to sit on, so I promised I'd watch for one. When UPS delivered a large box &mdash containing my peony painting, no less &mdash I knew I'd found a candidate.
Naturally I couldn't just present him with a square of cardboard. One, I thought he might crush his fingers, and two, a plain square of cardboard? Really? It had the potential to be so much more. Like, say, a made-to-order sled with a built-in handle and requisite sticker-tuning...
Blane's Stair Sled was a success &mdash but too much so. Their stairs are fairly steep, we soon discovered, and the cardboard is really slick. The first time Blane rode it down (just one short section of stairs, mind you), he let go of the handle and basically fell down the stairs to splat on the hardwood below.
His interest promptly waned.
We'll stack pillows at the bottom, his mom and I offered. No sale.
I'll ride with you, his mom said. Blane grudgingly agreed.
It didn't end well.
I tried to ride it down, figuring the engineer who created this death machine had to suffer some injury, but hefty me was too much for the cardboard; it bent the first time I tried to slide from one step to the next.
Methinks some modifications are in order.
The intrepid test drivers agreed to another go, this time down a different section of stairs with a wall of pillows waiting on the landing.
Plans for a slower, less terrifying (i.e. less grandparent-lecture-inducing) Stair Sled 2.0 are already underway.
We decided he needed a piece of cardboard to sit on, so I promised I'd watch for one. When UPS delivered a large box &mdash containing my peony painting, no less &mdash I knew I'd found a candidate.
Naturally I couldn't just present him with a square of cardboard. One, I thought he might crush his fingers, and two, a plain square of cardboard? Really? It had the potential to be so much more. Like, say, a made-to-order sled with a built-in handle and requisite sticker-tuning...
Blane's Stair Sled was a success &mdash but too much so. Their stairs are fairly steep, we soon discovered, and the cardboard is really slick. The first time Blane rode it down (just one short section of stairs, mind you), he let go of the handle and basically fell down the stairs to splat on the hardwood below. His interest promptly waned.
We'll stack pillows at the bottom, his mom and I offered. No sale.
I'll ride with you, his mom said. Blane grudgingly agreed.
It didn't end well.
I tried to ride it down, figuring the engineer who created this death machine had to suffer some injury, but hefty me was too much for the cardboard; it bent the first time I tried to slide from one step to the next. Methinks some modifications are in order.
The intrepid test drivers agreed to another go, this time down a different section of stairs with a wall of pillows waiting on the landing.
Plans for a slower, less terrifying (i.e. less grandparent-lecture-inducing) Stair Sled 2.0 are already underway.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Brilliant Billboards
I haven't seen many memorable billboards in my travels &mdash save for New Zealand's 1-800-JUMP ME &mdash but clearly Johnson Koh has had better luck. The examples he's collected at 50-extraordinary-and-attractive-billboards range from amusing...
To amazing...
To full-on awesome.
I still won't eat at McDonald's, but I have to admire the McMarketing.
To amazing...
To full-on awesome.
I still won't eat at McDonald's, but I have to admire the McMarketing.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
One of Those Days
It's not yet 9:00 a.m., and Sherman has already shredded not one, not two, but three stuffed animals this morning. I thought he was supposed to grow out of this phase.
Uh-oh. Sounds as if he's rooting in the toy bin for Victim Number Four....
Uh-oh. Sounds as if he's rooting in the toy bin for Victim Number Four....
Friday, September 18, 2009
Peony Painting
Like most people (most people I know, anyway), our household has a limited budget and an even more limited amount of wall space for art. So we try to wait for original works we really like, ones that don't just catch our eye but grab hold of us (or at least grab me).
I found one such piece recently and can't wait to share the newest addition, so....
It's another painting by the über-talented &mdash and unbelievably sweet &mdash Marcia Baldwin of Louisiana. If you've been to our house, you've likely seen Marcia's "Roses Are Red" painting, but when I saw another of her rich red paintings featuring my other favorite flower, well, I couldn't resist!
If you want to see more of Marcia's creations, please visit her on-line gallery at marciabaldwin.artspan.com; you'll soon understand why so many of her original paintings are marked "SOLD"!
I found one such piece recently and can't wait to share the newest addition, so....
It's another painting by the über-talented &mdash and unbelievably sweet &mdash Marcia Baldwin of Louisiana. If you've been to our house, you've likely seen Marcia's "Roses Are Red" painting, but when I saw another of her rich red paintings featuring my other favorite flower, well, I couldn't resist!If you want to see more of Marcia's creations, please visit her on-line gallery at marciabaldwin.artspan.com; you'll soon understand why so many of her original paintings are marked "SOLD"!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Recent Goodwill Finds
Poo.
So my friend Sue and I were supposed to have a day of Goodwill Hunting tomorrow, and I for one was kid-before-Christmas excited about it. We always manage to find a few neat things at great prices, but even if we didn't, a day with Sue is a treat in itself.
But then something came up and Sue had to cancel. Curses. To console myself, I decided to share some of my recent Most Amazing Finds.
First, though, before anyone wrinkles his or her nose: yes, I know it's considered impolite to mention something's cost, that it's unladylike. But to me, getting a great deal is a triumph. Why pay full retail when you can get something like-new &mdash or in some cases, new-new with tags still attached &mdash at a fraction of the price? That's just being smart.
(And I sincerely doubt many of the ladies carrying an Hermès or Louis Vuitton handbag would do so if they didn't know for certain everyone who sees it &mdash or at least everyone who matters &mdash would know how expensive it was. Apparently it's acceptable to let your bag brag.)
But a Goodwill bag is an enigma. It could contain throw-away items for a Halloween costume or genuine treasures snapped up at unbelievable savings. A couple examples of the latter include:
I found eight of these Noritake Halls of Ivy accent plates mixed in the stacks of orphaned dishes. I loved them instantly because they coordinate with my formal (read: never used) Noritake Platinum Cove china and my everyday Corelle Callaway pattern. Okay, so they're a tad fancier than the Corelle, but I imagine using them for a special dessert.
The best part? I got all eight in perfect condition for less than cost of one plate from replacements.com.
This big fellow is one of my all-time favorite finds. He's such a favorite &mdash and was such a bargain &mdash I'm willing to throw all decorum to the wind and tell you flat-out that he cost $12.15.
Why the odd price, you wonder?
His sticker price was $29.99, marked down from his original Goodwill price because apparently he'd been there a while. (I know; I don't understand why, either.) His new price tag was the discount color of the week, which in our region meant he was on sale for half-price. We saved 10 percent with a Club Goodwill card, and Sue saved me an additional 10 percent with her just-barely-earned Senior Citizen Discount.
I still can't believe I found such a huge Boyds Bear at Goodwill, let alone for that price, when his current value is more than 20 times that. Yeah: Two. Oh. That, and he makes me smile every time I see him.
Just in case you're curious about the afghan peeking out behind him, that too was a Goodwill find.
It understandably irritates Sue to see so many hours of work tossed aside (she's knitted many afghans and scarves herself), so we've rescued quite a few.... which is made easier when we can buy them for less than the cost of one skein.
Drat; now I'm all amped up about going again. I hope Sue's cancellation was really just a postponement (hint, hint)....
So my friend Sue and I were supposed to have a day of Goodwill Hunting tomorrow, and I for one was kid-before-Christmas excited about it. We always manage to find a few neat things at great prices, but even if we didn't, a day with Sue is a treat in itself.
But then something came up and Sue had to cancel. Curses. To console myself, I decided to share some of my recent Most Amazing Finds.
First, though, before anyone wrinkles his or her nose: yes, I know it's considered impolite to mention something's cost, that it's unladylike. But to me, getting a great deal is a triumph. Why pay full retail when you can get something like-new &mdash or in some cases, new-new with tags still attached &mdash at a fraction of the price? That's just being smart.
(And I sincerely doubt many of the ladies carrying an Hermès or Louis Vuitton handbag would do so if they didn't know for certain everyone who sees it &mdash or at least everyone who matters &mdash would know how expensive it was. Apparently it's acceptable to let your bag brag.)
But a Goodwill bag is an enigma. It could contain throw-away items for a Halloween costume or genuine treasures snapped up at unbelievable savings. A couple examples of the latter include:
I found eight of these Noritake Halls of Ivy accent plates mixed in the stacks of orphaned dishes. I loved them instantly because they coordinate with my formal (read: never used) Noritake Platinum Cove china and my everyday Corelle Callaway pattern. Okay, so they're a tad fancier than the Corelle, but I imagine using them for a special dessert. The best part? I got all eight in perfect condition for less than cost of one plate from replacements.com.
This big fellow is one of my all-time favorite finds. He's such a favorite &mdash and was such a bargain &mdash I'm willing to throw all decorum to the wind and tell you flat-out that he cost $12.15. Why the odd price, you wonder?
His sticker price was $29.99, marked down from his original Goodwill price because apparently he'd been there a while. (I know; I don't understand why, either.) His new price tag was the discount color of the week, which in our region meant he was on sale for half-price. We saved 10 percent with a Club Goodwill card, and Sue saved me an additional 10 percent with her just-barely-earned Senior Citizen Discount.
I still can't believe I found such a huge Boyds Bear at Goodwill, let alone for that price, when his current value is more than 20 times that. Yeah: Two. Oh. That, and he makes me smile every time I see him.
Just in case you're curious about the afghan peeking out behind him, that too was a Goodwill find.
It understandably irritates Sue to see so many hours of work tossed aside (she's knitted many afghans and scarves herself), so we've rescued quite a few.... which is made easier when we can buy them for less than the cost of one skein. Drat; now I'm all amped up about going again. I hope Sue's cancellation was really just a postponement (hint, hint)....
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Trellis Project of '09
I'm happy to report on Cary's behalf that he finished off the last of this year's trellis projects this weekend. He finished the section of trellis by the shop first...
And didn't grouse too much when I suggested extending both ends of the existing trellis, as well.
We still need to tie up the clematis vines, but I think it looks pretty good. No; it looks great. Great job, Cary!
The debate now is whether we should run cables between the roof and the trellis to train the vines into something of a canopy next year....
And didn't grouse too much when I suggested extending both ends of the existing trellis, as well. 
We still need to tie up the clematis vines, but I think it looks pretty good. No; it looks great. Great job, Cary!The debate now is whether we should run cables between the roof and the trellis to train the vines into something of a canopy next year....
Friday, September 4, 2009
Take that, Supermodels!
Woo Hoo!
I just heard on our local nightly news that having larger thighs is a GOOD thing. I like the title of the article on MSNBC, although I suspect "Skinny thighs could spell your doom" is exaggerating things a wee bit...
bodyodd.msnbc.msn.com
Regardless, even though I'm a couple of inches shy of the "ideal" thigh measurement, I hereby will try to keep this study's findings &mdash for as long as they stand &mdash in mind and use them to make peace with my Tonya Harding horse thighs.
Who's with me?
I just heard on our local nightly news that having larger thighs is a GOOD thing. I like the title of the article on MSNBC, although I suspect "Skinny thighs could spell your doom" is exaggerating things a wee bit...
bodyodd.msnbc.msn.com
Regardless, even though I'm a couple of inches shy of the "ideal" thigh measurement, I hereby will try to keep this study's findings &mdash for as long as they stand &mdash in mind and use them to make peace with my Tonya Harding horse thighs.
Who's with me?
Monday, August 31, 2009
Let's Bring Back Glamour, Girls!
Why don't people dress up anymore?
For the sake of honesty, I'll admit I'm asking that while wearing old jeans and a sweatshirt... but at least it's a slim sweatshirt, not one I nicked from Cary's closet, and hey; I've been cleaning the oven. I doubt even Iman does that in couture.
Despite my present appearance, I really do wish I had the confidence to dress up more often, because let's face it: how many opportunities do we get nowadays? One or two proms and maybe a wedding. That's about it. And that, ladies and gents, does not cut it.
I want to be like &mdash and hear me out here &mdash an older Russian woman I saw at Wal-mart a few weeks back. In a sea of T-shirts and tattoos, here was an honest-to-goodness polished lady. Her attitude was regal yet polite, her make-up and hair were just so, her clothing elegant and classic.
But what really caught my eye was her mink pillbox hat. Not just a pillbox; a mink pillbox. I, sadly, will never be a Hat Girl, but for a few moments I was tempted to try. Maybe something with a brim, I thought...
Thankfully I already have the Cary!
During our latest Goodwill Hunting trip, my dear friend Sue found a fabulous dress. Long and strapless, in fitted black satin with an elegant cascade of embroidery and pearls near its train. Yeah; a train. This gown has some serious Old Hollywood Glamour going on.
It fit her perfectly, tiny creature that she is. She said it made her feel like Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady.
You're ticked they dubbed all your songs? I wondered, but then realized she meant she felt transformed, like an ugly duckling becoming a swan &mdash or in Sue's case, a lovely swan becoming a lovelier one. I told her she reminded me of Rita Hayworth as Gilda.
(Seriously. If Sue will consent to a photo, I'll gladly prove it to you.)
"But where would I wear it?" she asked.
Good question.
Now no matter where we're going or what we're doing, Sue always looks polished and put together. I don't mean heels and pearls; just a bit nicer than those around her (like, for instance, me). But even the gorgeous Miss Sue might feel a skooch out of place wearing such a slinky number grocery shopping.
But maybe if we all started dressing a bit nicer, it wouldn't seem so shocking to consider wearing the gown to dinner or to a play. Maybe if we took a cue from our First Lady &mdash or if you prefer, the ladies of Mad Men &mdash we could bring elegant dressing back into everyday life. Or at least touches of it.
Sue bought the dress, by the way, Places to Where It be damned. It was too wonderful to leave behind, and it only cost... Well, I guess ladies don't discuss cost, do they? Let's just say the only thing more shocking than how great Sue looked in the dress was how little it cost.
"Even if I just wear it around the house," she smiled, "I'll feel like Audrey Hepburn."
That time I pictured a Breakfast-at-Tiffany's Audrey instead of a My-Fair-Lady Audrey, and I have to admit I could see it.
I just hope she doesn't wear it while cleaning the oven.
For the sake of honesty, I'll admit I'm asking that while wearing old jeans and a sweatshirt... but at least it's a slim sweatshirt, not one I nicked from Cary's closet, and hey; I've been cleaning the oven. I doubt even Iman does that in couture.
Despite my present appearance, I really do wish I had the confidence to dress up more often, because let's face it: how many opportunities do we get nowadays? One or two proms and maybe a wedding. That's about it. And that, ladies and gents, does not cut it.
I want to be like &mdash and hear me out here &mdash an older Russian woman I saw at Wal-mart a few weeks back. In a sea of T-shirts and tattoos, here was an honest-to-goodness polished lady. Her attitude was regal yet polite, her make-up and hair were just so, her clothing elegant and classic.
But what really caught my eye was her mink pillbox hat. Not just a pillbox; a mink pillbox. I, sadly, will never be a Hat Girl, but for a few moments I was tempted to try. Maybe something with a brim, I thought...
Thankfully I already have the Cary!During our latest Goodwill Hunting trip, my dear friend Sue found a fabulous dress. Long and strapless, in fitted black satin with an elegant cascade of embroidery and pearls near its train. Yeah; a train. This gown has some serious Old Hollywood Glamour going on.
It fit her perfectly, tiny creature that she is. She said it made her feel like Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady.
You're ticked they dubbed all your songs? I wondered, but then realized she meant she felt transformed, like an ugly duckling becoming a swan &mdash or in Sue's case, a lovely swan becoming a lovelier one. I told her she reminded me of Rita Hayworth as Gilda.
(Seriously. If Sue will consent to a photo, I'll gladly prove it to you.)"But where would I wear it?" she asked.
Good question.
Now no matter where we're going or what we're doing, Sue always looks polished and put together. I don't mean heels and pearls; just a bit nicer than those around her (like, for instance, me). But even the gorgeous Miss Sue might feel a skooch out of place wearing such a slinky number grocery shopping.
But maybe if we all started dressing a bit nicer, it wouldn't seem so shocking to consider wearing the gown to dinner or to a play. Maybe if we took a cue from our First Lady &mdash or if you prefer, the ladies of Mad Men &mdash we could bring elegant dressing back into everyday life. Or at least touches of it.
Sue bought the dress, by the way, Places to Where It be damned. It was too wonderful to leave behind, and it only cost... Well, I guess ladies don't discuss cost, do they? Let's just say the only thing more shocking than how great Sue looked in the dress was how little it cost.
"Even if I just wear it around the house," she smiled, "I'll feel like Audrey Hepburn."
That time I pictured a Breakfast-at-Tiffany's Audrey instead of a My-Fair-Lady Audrey, and I have to admit I could see it.
I just hope she doesn't wear it while cleaning the oven.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Dog Days, Indeed
In our house, we don't need a thermometer or a weather station or the AC kicking on to know it's hot; we just need to realize it's quiet and the dogs are MIA.
Yesterday as we pushed triple-digit heat (again), a quick search of the house found Tripper (half-)under the bed,...
Annye napping in the closet,...
And Miele and Sherman snoozing on the tile.
Talk about a rough life.
Yesterday as we pushed triple-digit heat (again), a quick search of the house found Tripper (half-)under the bed,...
Annye napping in the closet,...
And Miele and Sherman snoozing on the tile.
Talk about a rough life.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Road Trip!
When we heard about the National Park Service's Fee Free Weekends earlier this year, Cary said, "We could go to Crater Lake again." We agreed it was a plan... and then promptly forgot about it. For some reason I remembered the promotion late last week and discovered the coming weekend &mdash August 15 and 16 &mdash was the last FFW for 2009.
Decision time.
We'd driven the five-plus-hour* (one way) trip over there three years ago for our anniversary. I hadn't been there since I was a kid, and Cary was eager to show me the sights from Crater Lake Rim Drive &mdash a drive he hadn't taken in years and I hadn't taken, well, ever. When we arrived, though, we learned most of Rim Drive was still closed because of snow. (Hey, it was July; we thought sure it would be clear.)
This time I thought to check ahead. West Rim Drive? Open. East Rim Drive? Open.Houston, we are a "go."
I'd expected to see a lot of people, but with the exception of a big bicycling event, the park really wasn't too crowded. We always found a convenient place to stop at each outlook, including this great view of Phantom Ship:
Okay, so my photo isn't the best, but what do you expect from a "cheapy point-and-shoot"? That's what Cary calls my little Sony Cyber-shot. Its pants aren't as fancy as his "We Are Professional Grade" Canon, but it doesn't demand a tripod and a dozen special settings to take a shot, either. I'm just sayin'.
*According to Google Maps, the route we took over should have taken five-and-a-half hours and the route home (through Medford) should have taken more than six. Let's just say that, even with frequent stops to give Cary's back a rest, it didn't take us quite that long.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Our Work-in-Progress Front Yard
I've spent a fair amount of time sharing views of our backyard, but we've been almost as busy in the front yard.
We decided a couple of years ago to eliminate the lawn in our front yard. It looked okay, but required more care and water than it was worth. And it wasn't as if the dogs could enjoy it, so what was the point?
We'd planned to put in two island flowerbeds last summer but ran out of topsoil/compost mix &mdash so one bed it was. Unfortunately, we still bought plants for two, so it was definitely full!
This year we created the second front bed, but it's still far from fully planted &mdash which gives us an excuse to hit the nurseries' clearance sales over the next couple of months. (As if we need a reason.) Most of the front yard is heavily shaded during the summer months, so we're planning to add more rhododendrons, hostas, and hydrangeas. I'm especially on the look-out for an Oakleaf hydrangea similar to the one a certain dog &mdash *cough* Sherman *cough* &mdash obliterated earlier this year.
As for that bare spot in the middle, that will (someday) star a natural rock water feature.
We decided a couple of years ago to eliminate the lawn in our front yard. It looked okay, but required more care and water than it was worth. And it wasn't as if the dogs could enjoy it, so what was the point?
We'd planned to put in two island flowerbeds last summer but ran out of topsoil/compost mix &mdash so one bed it was. Unfortunately, we still bought plants for two, so it was definitely full!
This year we created the second front bed, but it's still far from fully planted &mdash which gives us an excuse to hit the nurseries' clearance sales over the next couple of months. (As if we need a reason.) Most of the front yard is heavily shaded during the summer months, so we're planning to add more rhododendrons, hostas, and hydrangeas. I'm especially on the look-out for an Oakleaf hydrangea similar to the one a certain dog &mdash *cough* Sherman *cough* &mdash obliterated earlier this year.
As for that bare spot in the middle, that will (someday) star a natural rock water feature.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Free Chocolate Reminder
If you haven't requested your household's four free M&M's/Mars candy bar coupons yet, well, what are you waiting for? Free candy, people; what more do you need to know?! Get over to www.realchocolate.com and request 'em already! The offer runs every Friday through the end of September, but seriously: why wait?
What's better than free candy? Double free candy, of course! Keep an eye out for a Buy X, Get X Free offer at your local grocer. Our Safeway had (and may still have) Buy 2, Get 2 Free on M&M's/Mars candy earlier this week, so I walked away with a bag full of candy bars absolutely free.
"You gonna freeze them?" the cashier asked.
"Uh, yeah; freeze 'em," I nodded, knowing full well at least one wasn't gonna make it home....
What's better than free candy? Double free candy, of course! Keep an eye out for a Buy X, Get X Free offer at your local grocer. Our Safeway had (and may still have) Buy 2, Get 2 Free on M&M's/Mars candy earlier this week, so I walked away with a bag full of candy bars absolutely free.
"You gonna freeze them?" the cashier asked.
"Uh, yeah; freeze 'em," I nodded, knowing full well at least one wasn't gonna make it home....
And We're Back!
Dios mio; has it really been almost a month since my last post?! Sorry about that!
I'd like to tell you it's because Sherman has so dazzled us with his perfect behavior, that he hasn't uprooted any plants or shredded any toys or done anything else horrific, that I've had no blog-worthy stories to share. I'd also like to tell you we won the lottery...
Truth is we got busy with yard projects and then decided to throw a barbecue/birthday bash for my visiting aunt &mdash which meant kicking our garden projects into high gear.
Our new flowerbeds were in, as you faithful readers already know, but they looked naked and sad with just dirt and few plants stuck here and there (although we'd added more since these early July photos):
So we (Cary) ordered two units of bark dust for us (me) to spread. Turns out Mr. Six-Months-Post-Back-Surgery isn't up to shoveling anything or moving the wheelbarrow. How convenient.
To be honest, I'd expected I'd be spreading the bark solo &mdash but I didn't know I'd be doing it during a triple-digit, week-long heatwave. Most days I stuck it out until noon, but during the worst days I only made it until 9:00 or 9:30 before scurrying back into the AC.
Cary announced one morning it was expected to reach 108 (what?!) and could be the hottest day in the Willamette Valley. Ever. We decided one day we'd be telling young'uns about how it was 120 back in Aught Nine but we were still outside workin', consarnit, 'cause folks had a work ethic back in those days....
Anywho, it took longer than expected, but I finally conquered the mini-mountain of mulch and had the flowerbeds looking a bit more like actual, tended beds:
We're hoping to finish the top of this trellis this week, as well as plant still more shrubs and vines. (Darn you, Lowe's and your irresistible clearance prices!) The paths of dead grass aren't especially appealing, but I think moving loads of gravel by hand can wait until the cooler Fall months....
I'd like to tell you it's because Sherman has so dazzled us with his perfect behavior, that he hasn't uprooted any plants or shredded any toys or done anything else horrific, that I've had no blog-worthy stories to share. I'd also like to tell you we won the lottery...
Truth is we got busy with yard projects and then decided to throw a barbecue/birthday bash for my visiting aunt &mdash which meant kicking our garden projects into high gear.
Our new flowerbeds were in, as you faithful readers already know, but they looked naked and sad with just dirt and few plants stuck here and there (although we'd added more since these early July photos):
So we (Cary) ordered two units of bark dust for us (me) to spread. Turns out Mr. Six-Months-Post-Back-Surgery isn't up to shoveling anything or moving the wheelbarrow. How convenient.To be honest, I'd expected I'd be spreading the bark solo &mdash but I didn't know I'd be doing it during a triple-digit, week-long heatwave. Most days I stuck it out until noon, but during the worst days I only made it until 9:00 or 9:30 before scurrying back into the AC.
Cary announced one morning it was expected to reach 108 (what?!) and could be the hottest day in the Willamette Valley. Ever. We decided one day we'd be telling young'uns about how it was 120 back in Aught Nine but we were still outside workin', consarnit, 'cause folks had a work ethic back in those days....
Anywho, it took longer than expected, but I finally conquered the mini-mountain of mulch and had the flowerbeds looking a bit more like actual, tended beds:
We're hoping to finish the top of this trellis this week, as well as plant still more shrubs and vines. (Darn you, Lowe's and your irresistible clearance prices!) The paths of dead grass aren't especially appealing, but I think moving loads of gravel by hand can wait until the cooler Fall months....
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Free Glidden Paint's Arrival
If you took Glidden up on its offer of a free quart of paint, I hope yours arrived in better condition than mine:
I probably can get most of the paint out of the can, but I don't think storing any excess in the original can will be an option.
I probably can get most of the paint out of the can, but I don't think storing any excess in the original can will be an option.
Monday, July 6, 2009
My (Least) Favorite Wal-martian
I don't know about you, but sometimes I dread going to Wal-mart. Yeah, I know: I don't HAVE to shop there... but sometimes I do. There; I admitted it. Happy now?
Anyway, one of things I do like about Wal-mart is they honor their competitors' advertised prices. Or at least they're supposed to.
In mid-June, we ventured into Wal-mart to buy two-liter bottles of Pepsi and have them price-match with a Safeway ad. The cashier was willing to do it, but wanted to make sure she keyed it in correctly because her till was set to be audited that night. Fair enough.
A supervisor of some sort came by and told her to enter a "1" for a competitors' price match... then snatched the Safeway ad and said, "Wait a minute." She trotted off with the ad, and a few minutes later returned to sniff that they don't honor competitors' price if they require a club card. I told her I had talked with a manager named Crystal about it earlier, and we had agreed that because the card is free for the asking, Wal-mart would match the price.
"She doesn't work here anymore so I can't verify that," she snapped, "but I just checked with an SCI (or something like that) and confirmed we do NOT honor these prices."
She oh-so-helpfully added that if I took the Safeway ad to Safeway, they would honor the price. Gee; ya think?
I argued it a little longer but she wouldn't budge, just kept saying, "We don't do that, we've NEVER done that"... so some poor sap had to return a cart full of two-liters to the shelf.
The next day, I checked Wal-mart's site and, lo and behold:
"We do honor 'Preferred Shopping Card' advertised prices. Must be like items, be advertised and require a competitor's shopping card, for the discount to apply." (Check walmartstores.com if you don't believe me.)
Now I was mad.
A few days later &mdash but when the Safeway ad was still valid &mdash I drove back to Wal-mart, Safeway ad and walmartstores.com policy in hand: partly to stock up on soda, partly to tell them they're wrong and don't know their own corporate policy. Should be fun, right?
I marched to the Customer Service desk. Two women straightened and moved closer together, then listened to what I just relayed. They apologized (and relaxed a little), and said Wal-mart DOES price match competitors' club card price. Then one asked:
"Do you remember her name?"
"Sorry," I said, "but she held a binder or a clipboard over her name badge so I didn't catch it."
As I said "name badge," the two exchanged a look.
"Do you remember what she looked like?" the other asked.
"She was maybe a little taller than I am, and she had long, straight brown hair."
"Tabitha," one said.
"Mmm-hmm," the other nodded.
"Straight hair?" one woman asked, just to make sure.
Yes, I said, but not wanting to get the wrong person in trouble, I added she was a thinner woman. (Well, thinner for a Wal-martian.)
"Tabitha," they said together.
Oh, Tabitha, Tabitha, Tabitha; I see a talking-to in your future. Based on the two women's reactions, I don't think it's the first time someone has complained about Tabitha so I didn't feel too bad.
And I especially don't today. My soda supply was down and Safeway had it on sale again, so once again I headed into the Land of the Wally Mammoths, Safeway ad and walmartstores.com policy in my pocket. Just in case. At the checkout, the cashier was again willing to make the price-match but wanted to make sure he entered it correctly.
Now who do you suppose toddled over?
Tabetha (it seems I'd been misspelling her name) was shaking her head as she approached. She didn't blink before spitting, "We don't do that," and turned to leave.
"Yes you do," I said in an equally snide tone, and slapped the policy statement down. Cary and the cashier backed up a step as Tabetha slowly turned back, presumably to see Who Dared Question the All-Knowing Tabetha.
She read the policy, and then read it again. Or she read incredibly slowly, I can't say which. What I DO know is she still tried to refuse the price-match, saying again &mdash though with less conviction &mdash that she was told they don't do that.
"You're supposed to," I said, and tapped the paper. The cashier bit back a giggle.
"It's not clear..." Tabetha protested.
Not clear? I thought. How much clearer could it be? "We DO HONOR 'Preferred Shopping Card' advertised prices." Seems pretty black-and-white to me.
"I guess just do it," she told the cashier and walked away in a confused haze. Smiling, the cashier finished wringing our order.
"Sorry about that," he said.
"Not your fault," I said. "For some reason, Tabetha just likes to argue that policy."
"Yeah, she's sort of a &mdash"
He stopped as Tabetha approached with another supervisor-type. They asked to see the policy again and slowly read it over. Supervisory-type Number 2 began the "We don't do that" speech.
I stopped her. I said I'd talked with two women in Customer Service; they said you price match. I'd talked with an assistant manager; she said you price match. Your own corporate site posts the policy, which is RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, and it states you price match.
"It... It says it needs a shopping card for it to apply," Tabetha tried.
"Club Price," I said, as I poked the Safeway ad. "That means you need to have a Safeway Club Card. Which I do."
"So do I," Tabetha said.
"Well there you go."
They stood there, mouths open, unsure what to say. Tabetha mumbled something about checking walmartstores.com later, so I handed her the piece of paper and told her to keep it. For some reason that flustered her even more.
As we were leaving the store, I checked my receipt to make sure everything rang up correctly, and found a survey request.
"WE VALUE YOUR OPINION!" it yelled. "WE WANT TO KNOW ABOUT YOUR SHOPPING EXPERIENCE TODAY AT WAL-MART."
Really.
You know what, Wally; I may just take you up on that.
Anyway, one of things I do like about Wal-mart is they honor their competitors' advertised prices. Or at least they're supposed to.
In mid-June, we ventured into Wal-mart to buy two-liter bottles of Pepsi and have them price-match with a Safeway ad. The cashier was willing to do it, but wanted to make sure she keyed it in correctly because her till was set to be audited that night. Fair enough.
A supervisor of some sort came by and told her to enter a "1" for a competitors' price match... then snatched the Safeway ad and said, "Wait a minute." She trotted off with the ad, and a few minutes later returned to sniff that they don't honor competitors' price if they require a club card. I told her I had talked with a manager named Crystal about it earlier, and we had agreed that because the card is free for the asking, Wal-mart would match the price.
"She doesn't work here anymore so I can't verify that," she snapped, "but I just checked with an SCI (or something like that) and confirmed we do NOT honor these prices."
She oh-so-helpfully added that if I took the Safeway ad to Safeway, they would honor the price. Gee; ya think?
I argued it a little longer but she wouldn't budge, just kept saying, "We don't do that, we've NEVER done that"... so some poor sap had to return a cart full of two-liters to the shelf.
The next day, I checked Wal-mart's site and, lo and behold:
"We do honor 'Preferred Shopping Card' advertised prices. Must be like items, be advertised and require a competitor's shopping card, for the discount to apply." (Check walmartstores.com if you don't believe me.)
Now I was mad.
A few days later &mdash but when the Safeway ad was still valid &mdash I drove back to Wal-mart, Safeway ad and walmartstores.com policy in hand: partly to stock up on soda, partly to tell them they're wrong and don't know their own corporate policy. Should be fun, right?
I marched to the Customer Service desk. Two women straightened and moved closer together, then listened to what I just relayed. They apologized (and relaxed a little), and said Wal-mart DOES price match competitors' club card price. Then one asked:
"Do you remember her name?"
"Sorry," I said, "but she held a binder or a clipboard over her name badge so I didn't catch it."
As I said "name badge," the two exchanged a look.
"Do you remember what she looked like?" the other asked.
"She was maybe a little taller than I am, and she had long, straight brown hair."
"Tabitha," one said.
"Mmm-hmm," the other nodded.
"Straight hair?" one woman asked, just to make sure.
Yes, I said, but not wanting to get the wrong person in trouble, I added she was a thinner woman. (Well, thinner for a Wal-martian.)
"Tabitha," they said together.
Oh, Tabitha, Tabitha, Tabitha; I see a talking-to in your future. Based on the two women's reactions, I don't think it's the first time someone has complained about Tabitha so I didn't feel too bad.
And I especially don't today. My soda supply was down and Safeway had it on sale again, so once again I headed into the Land of the Wally Mammoths, Safeway ad and walmartstores.com policy in my pocket. Just in case. At the checkout, the cashier was again willing to make the price-match but wanted to make sure he entered it correctly.
Now who do you suppose toddled over?
Tabetha (it seems I'd been misspelling her name) was shaking her head as she approached. She didn't blink before spitting, "We don't do that," and turned to leave.
"Yes you do," I said in an equally snide tone, and slapped the policy statement down. Cary and the cashier backed up a step as Tabetha slowly turned back, presumably to see Who Dared Question the All-Knowing Tabetha.
She read the policy, and then read it again. Or she read incredibly slowly, I can't say which. What I DO know is she still tried to refuse the price-match, saying again &mdash though with less conviction &mdash that she was told they don't do that.
"You're supposed to," I said, and tapped the paper. The cashier bit back a giggle.
"It's not clear..." Tabetha protested.
Not clear? I thought. How much clearer could it be? "We DO HONOR 'Preferred Shopping Card' advertised prices." Seems pretty black-and-white to me.
"I guess just do it," she told the cashier and walked away in a confused haze. Smiling, the cashier finished wringing our order.
"Sorry about that," he said.
"Not your fault," I said. "For some reason, Tabetha just likes to argue that policy."
"Yeah, she's sort of a &mdash"
He stopped as Tabetha approached with another supervisor-type. They asked to see the policy again and slowly read it over. Supervisory-type Number 2 began the "We don't do that" speech.
I stopped her. I said I'd talked with two women in Customer Service; they said you price match. I'd talked with an assistant manager; she said you price match. Your own corporate site posts the policy, which is RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, and it states you price match.
"It... It says it needs a shopping card for it to apply," Tabetha tried.
"Club Price," I said, as I poked the Safeway ad. "That means you need to have a Safeway Club Card. Which I do."
"So do I," Tabetha said.
"Well there you go."
They stood there, mouths open, unsure what to say. Tabetha mumbled something about checking walmartstores.com later, so I handed her the piece of paper and told her to keep it. For some reason that flustered her even more.
As we were leaving the store, I checked my receipt to make sure everything rang up correctly, and found a survey request.
"WE VALUE YOUR OPINION!" it yelled. "WE WANT TO KNOW ABOUT YOUR SHOPPING EXPERIENCE TODAY AT WAL-MART."
Really.
You know what, Wally; I may just take you up on that.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Lessons from Jury Duty
Free at last! Free at last! Thank Polk County, I am free at last!
No, I wasn't just released from jail, but close: I just completed my nine weeks of grand jury duty. The judge had warned us we'd have a very different view of our community after serving, but I have to say mine hasn't really changed &mdash although I did learn how closely our local casino monitors every square inch of itself and how to stay just this side of the law.
I did not, however, answer the age-old chicken-and-egg question of whether drugs make one stupid or one has to be stupid to do drugs... but I definitely think there's some correlation. At least three-quarters of those indicted on drug charges might have gone free if they hadn't told the cops where to find their drugs/pipes/syringes and hadn't said, "Yeah, that's mine."
Something else my jury duty reinforced, is there are good cops and there are not-so-good cops. I'm not talking Vic Mackey bad, but we had a few who testified while chopping on gum and oozing a why-are-you-wasting-my-time attitude. Luckily the good outnumbered the bad &mdash at least during my service.
One of our favorite returning visitors was a detective who arranged and busted drug buys. He said he dreams of going undercover someday, but he's far too cute and tat-free (not to mention too intelligent) to come across as a typical drug user.
"So," I asked him, "if I see you in a parking lot talking to some shady character, should I yell, 'Hey, Detective; how's it going?'"
"Uh, I'd rather you didn't," he said.
"Okay. How about if I run over, yell, 'You son of a bitch, you got my little brother hooked on that junk!' and then sock you in the face?"
He just blinked a couple of times, as if trying to decide whether I was serious. (I think some of my fellow jurors wondered that, too.)
"C'mon," I coaxed. "It would help sell your story, give you some street cred."
"I'd, uh, I'd rather you just act like you don't know me."
Funny; I hear that a lot.
No, I wasn't just released from jail, but close: I just completed my nine weeks of grand jury duty. The judge had warned us we'd have a very different view of our community after serving, but I have to say mine hasn't really changed &mdash although I did learn how closely our local casino monitors every square inch of itself and how to stay just this side of the law.
I did not, however, answer the age-old chicken-and-egg question of whether drugs make one stupid or one has to be stupid to do drugs... but I definitely think there's some correlation. At least three-quarters of those indicted on drug charges might have gone free if they hadn't told the cops where to find their drugs/pipes/syringes and hadn't said, "Yeah, that's mine."
Something else my jury duty reinforced, is there are good cops and there are not-so-good cops. I'm not talking Vic Mackey bad, but we had a few who testified while chopping on gum and oozing a why-are-you-wasting-my-time attitude. Luckily the good outnumbered the bad &mdash at least during my service.
One of our favorite returning visitors was a detective who arranged and busted drug buys. He said he dreams of going undercover someday, but he's far too cute and tat-free (not to mention too intelligent) to come across as a typical drug user.
"So," I asked him, "if I see you in a parking lot talking to some shady character, should I yell, 'Hey, Detective; how's it going?'"
"Uh, I'd rather you didn't," he said.
"Okay. How about if I run over, yell, 'You son of a bitch, you got my little brother hooked on that junk!' and then sock you in the face?"
He just blinked a couple of times, as if trying to decide whether I was serious. (I think some of my fellow jurors wondered that, too.)
"C'mon," I coaxed. "It would help sell your story, give you some street cred."
"I'd, uh, I'd rather you just act like you don't know me."
Funny; I hear that a lot.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Do It for Doogie
Okay. So I know I've mentioned www.realchocolate.com before. Repeatedly.
Today I mention it again simply so I can share this ad featuring Doogie/Barney/Dr. Horrible:
So c'mon, America! Snag a coupon for a bar or bag of empty calories and learn to smile again. Because, as Totally Awesome American Neil Patrick Harris so eloquent puts it, "helping each other, that's what America loves most. That, and free stuff."
Today I mention it again simply so I can share this ad featuring Doogie/Barney/Dr. Horrible:
So c'mon, America! Snag a coupon for a bar or bag of empty calories and learn to smile again. Because, as Totally Awesome American Neil Patrick Harris so eloquent puts it, "helping each other, that's what America loves most. That, and free stuff."
Free Glidden Paint
Before I start to be known &mdash okay, CONTINUE to be known &mdash as a Junk Food Queen, I thought I'd share a great DIY freebie. Just visit:
www.glidden.com/promotions/free-paint-giveaway.do
... or call 1-800-GLIDDEN to request a free quart of paint in Eggshell finish. Really. A completely free, fresh quart of paint. That should cover about 100 square feet, enough to repaint an occasional table, a small dresser, maybe even an accent wall. Or the door and trim your puppy shredded.
The offer is good through July 2, 2009, or while supplies last, with a limit of one quart per household in the Continental US only. (Sorry, Hawaiians, but you already have enough good fortune.)
www.glidden.com/promotions/free-paint-giveaway.do
... or call 1-800-GLIDDEN to request a free quart of paint in Eggshell finish. Really. A completely free, fresh quart of paint. That should cover about 100 square feet, enough to repaint an occasional table, a small dresser, maybe even an accent wall. Or the door and trim your puppy shredded.
The offer is good through July 2, 2009, or while supplies last, with a limit of one quart per household in the Continental US only. (Sorry, Hawaiians, but you already have enough good fortune.)
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Free Sugar Fixes
Who wants free junk food?
"I do! I do!"
Yes, it's that magic hour in late afternoon when a young girl's fancy turns strongly to thoughts of sugar and caffeine. Unfortunately these offers don't start until tomorrow, Friday, June 19th, but fortunately I have not one but three offers to share:
First, don't forget the M&M/Mars giveaway is still going strong every Friday morning through the end of September. Just visit:
www.realchocolate.com
... each Friday after 9:00 a.m. Eastern Time to request your coupon for a free, full-size candy bar such as Snickers, Milky Way, Twix, 3 Musketeers, Dove, and of course, M&M's. There's a limit of one coupon request per e-mail address per Friday, but — and here's the best part — you may return on a following Friday and request another coupon, up to four per household! I've already received a couple, so I can confirm the coupons will arrive... assuming your postmaster doesn't nick them.
Also on Friday between 2:00 p.m. and 8:00 p.m., A&W is continuing to celebrate its 90th Anniversary by offering free small root beer floats. Not surprisingly, the offer is one per customer, but no purchase is required so get on in there!
www.awrestaurants.com
Still thirsty? Have a mall nearby? Then you may be happy to know Orange Julius is offering a free Light Smoothie on June 19th. It looks as if the offer is valid all day, but you'll need to print and present the downloaded coupon.
www.orangejulius.com
Enjoy your sugar rush &mdash and your weekend!
"I do! I do!"
Yes, it's that magic hour in late afternoon when a young girl's fancy turns strongly to thoughts of sugar and caffeine. Unfortunately these offers don't start until tomorrow, Friday, June 19th, but fortunately I have not one but three offers to share:
First, don't forget the M&M/Mars giveaway is still going strong every Friday morning through the end of September. Just visit:
www.realchocolate.com
... each Friday after 9:00 a.m. Eastern Time to request your coupon for a free, full-size candy bar such as Snickers, Milky Way, Twix, 3 Musketeers, Dove, and of course, M&M's. There's a limit of one coupon request per e-mail address per Friday, but — and here's the best part — you may return on a following Friday and request another coupon, up to four per household! I've already received a couple, so I can confirm the coupons will arrive... assuming your postmaster doesn't nick them.
Also on Friday between 2:00 p.m. and 8:00 p.m., A&W is continuing to celebrate its 90th Anniversary by offering free small root beer floats. Not surprisingly, the offer is one per customer, but no purchase is required so get on in there!
www.awrestaurants.com
Still thirsty? Have a mall nearby? Then you may be happy to know Orange Julius is offering a free Light Smoothie on June 19th. It looks as if the offer is valid all day, but you'll need to print and present the downloaded coupon.
www.orangejulius.com
Enjoy your sugar rush &mdash and your weekend!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Free Family Film Festival
It's baaaaack!
Once again, Regal is hosting its Free Family Film Festival. Starting this week (depending on your location) and running through the end of August, select Regal cinemas will screen two G or PG movies at 10:00 a.m. each Tuesday and Wednesday during the festival.
Seating is first-come, first-served &mdash or first-seated? &mdash and is limited to theatre capacity. Tickets are available at the select theatres' box offices on the day of the show.
For a list of dates and movie titles, visit:
www.regmovies.com/nowshowing/familyfilmfestivalschedule.aspx
I don't see a requirement that states I HAVE to be accompanied by a child and two local theaters are participating, so... Blane and Abby, maybe I'll see you there!
Once again, Regal is hosting its Free Family Film Festival. Starting this week (depending on your location) and running through the end of August, select Regal cinemas will screen two G or PG movies at 10:00 a.m. each Tuesday and Wednesday during the festival.
Seating is first-come, first-served &mdash or first-seated? &mdash and is limited to theatre capacity. Tickets are available at the select theatres' box offices on the day of the show.
For a list of dates and movie titles, visit:
www.regmovies.com/nowshowing/familyfilmfestivalschedule.aspx
I don't see a requirement that states I HAVE to be accompanied by a child and two local theaters are participating, so... Blane and Abby, maybe I'll see you there!
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Playing Dirty
I suppose it was inevitable that our relaxing (read: lazy) weekends would give way to days of toil, so it didn't come as much of a surprise when Cary ordered 30 yards of topsoil/compost mix last week. Yeah. Three-oh. As in a heaped dump truck AND its trailer. The dirt was delivered Friday around noon, and bright and early Saturday Cary was off to rent a Bobcat.
Let the summer projects begin.
As the tracks in the "before" photos show, I was a little late taking them, but you get the idea: grass and more grass.
We added dirt to extend four existing flowerbeds — one by quite a bit; I think it's now five or six times its original size — and created a new island. (Actually two new islands, but one is out front and doesn't look like much just yet.)
While Cary moved the dirt, I dug out and moved the thin-split rock we had been using to outline the beds. (I'll reuse it to create raised beds in the rose garden... but probably not this year. I like to pace my punishment.)
On Sunday, we set out the plants we've been buying since last Fall... and then started digging. At last count we'd planted 48 shrubs, perennials, and tubers including a crape myrtle, a rhododendron, a Daphne, peonies, roses, lilacs, verbena, lavender, potentillas, and who-knows-what-else.
It looks a little puny right now, but in a couple of years — with mulch and a few more plants added here and there — it should be right lush. Assuming the plants survive the Thunder Feet of Sherman, that is.
We've already bought another dump truck load of gravel for the paths, so stay tuned...
Let the summer projects begin.
As the tracks in the "before" photos show, I was a little late taking them, but you get the idea: grass and more grass.
We added dirt to extend four existing flowerbeds — one by quite a bit; I think it's now five or six times its original size — and created a new island. (Actually two new islands, but one is out front and doesn't look like much just yet.)While Cary moved the dirt, I dug out and moved the thin-split rock we had been using to outline the beds. (I'll reuse it to create raised beds in the rose garden... but probably not this year. I like to pace my punishment.)
On Sunday, we set out the plants we've been buying since last Fall... and then started digging. At last count we'd planted 48 shrubs, perennials, and tubers including a crape myrtle, a rhododendron, a Daphne, peonies, roses, lilacs, verbena, lavender, potentillas, and who-knows-what-else.It looks a little puny right now, but in a couple of years — with mulch and a few more plants added here and there — it should be right lush. Assuming the plants survive the Thunder Feet of Sherman, that is.
We've already bought another dump truck load of gravel for the paths, so stay tuned...
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