428 words

That is all I wrote today.  So of course, I'm going to blog instead.  My wires are seriously all strung up the wrong way.  I could be writing about aliens.  Or sleeping.  Instead I'm writing my excuse for why I did not get cracking on my crazy ass train wreck of a novel.
1.  I'm jet lagged from the time change.  Not really, I'm just lazy because it gets dark early.
2. I had to drive to the Costco (on fumes apparently because the tank was completely empty) so I could look at everything in the place and then spend way too much money.  I have to eat while I'm making my fingers bleed and developing carpal tunnel syndrome, right?
3.  Then my house was too dirty to be in.  I vacuumed, did some dishes, washed some laundry.  It is still messy, but it doesn't smell like dirty dog and mud from all the rain.
4.  I had to pull weeds in my yard.  Actually, I really did.  These prickly ass weeds are giving my dog such a bad rash that she has bald spots.  And frankly, Laverne is more important than aliens.
5.  To help me out, the Pineapple Parents offered to come and pick up their Costco goods to save me a trip.  Instead their car overheated (because there was a big fucking hole and all the coolant leaked out of the car which we discovered after I went to the store to buy distilled water which all poured out on the driveway) and I had to take them home.
5.  The Pineapple Dad had not been shopping and I needed more shit from the grocery store.  I just can't eat 20 heads of lettuce before they go bad.  Somethings are better bought in smaller quantities.  Hence, second shopping trip of the day.
6.  After dropping the Pineapple Dad back at his house, I headed home.  After learning the tow truck was coming in the next hour I decided that I should eat.  Yummmy.  I call my creation Pepper Pizza.  It had yellow bell pepper, jalapeno pepper, and crushed red pepper (and also some sauce, basil, and cheese).
7.  After the car was towed away, I decided that if I have clean sheets that the girls and I should get clean too.  Also? My coworkers probably like me better if I don't come to work with plant life in my hair and dirt on my face.
8.  Then I crawled in bed and wrote 428 words.  And then bitched about it on my blog.

Symphony of Crickets

Holy Hell.  What am I thinking?  I can't even manage to blog on a regular basis and I think I'm going to write a whole freaking novel in a month?!?!  That is just hilarious.  NaNoWriMo starts in a matter of hours and I have a title (Symphony of Crickets) and maybe a general idea of what I'm going to write.  Sort of.  Maybe.  Or not.  I mean, I have hours to decide how it starts, right?

I'm thinking it is going to be a Sci-fi/Romance/Thriller/Comedy/TRAINWRECK.  Kind of like Bubba Ho-Tep  meets Mars Attacks! with a splash of love interest.  And with Buddy Holly (hence the crickets) instead of Elvis and the aliens aren't from Mars (or maybe they are).  Obviously I plan on writing an original novel that is going to be an award winning, best seller.  And then they are going to make it into a summer blockbuster and show it at the IMAX.  Also? It is going to be an Oprah Book Club Pick (this is out of the ordinary because my book will not be depressing).  That is how good it is going to be.  Yep.  And I am going to write this groundbreaking novel in one month.

nails are expensive

I really need a chaperone to go to the Home Depot.  I went there to get nails so I could put up my Halloween decorations.  I did get the nails, but I have yet to put up any Halloween decorations.  For one thing, I had to put my new lime tree in its new bright, lime green pot.

Since I was taking pictures, I went ahead and took yet another set of garden pictures.  My broccoli and brussels sprouts are coming along nicely.

My lettuce is already yummy (I snuck a little nibble), the radishes are huge on top (but not so much underneath), and the bell peppers are starting to take off (but I'm pretty sure I planted them too late to expect any thing good to come of it).

My pumpkins are still alive...

And blooming.  But no actual gourds have started growing...

My little pot of lettuce has started growing so I will have more lettuce after I eat the first round.

My basil variety pack is looking good too..

But my cilantro is not.

Oh well.  I guess not everything is going to stay alive...

Keeping it classy!

...but you might not want to get behind this guy.

here comes megatron

Meet Megatron.  Megatron lives next door.  And ever since I moved in, Megatron has pretty much avoided me.  Recently, Megatron has started approaching me, but then changing her mind at the last minute and running away.  But for the past few weeks, Megatron has started throwing herself at my feet and winding herself around and round my legs.  I have never once petted this cat.  Why would I need to when she does all the work, right?

However, Megatron does not like Laverne and Shirley.  And she used to run away when they barked.  But that too changed this weekend.  I think it was the peacocks that did it.  Because the weather has been nice I've been opening the windows and leaving the doors open.  The other morning, there was chaos in the kitchen because Megatron was yowling to be let in the screen door and the girls were barking wildly to be let out.  It wasn't until the peacock incident that I realized that they were also torturing poor Megatron in the front yard, too.  Those peacocks were all over the place.  The girls chased six of them out of the backyard.  One was on the roof honking for about thirty thrilling minutes.  There was also a herd wandering around in the front yard.  Most of the time Megatron does that whole arching back, hissing thing when the girls bark at her.  But she has gotten a little bolder.  I guess near peacock death experiences do that for a cat.  Like today.  Megatron jumped on top of my car where the girls could see her and just stood there.  Finally Laverne couldn't take it anymore and started barking and barking and barking.  Megatron didn't even flinch.  And tonight.  Megatron came calling through the kitchen screen door.  Shirley was resting comfortably on the couch and Laverne was in her blanket cocoon under the coffee table.  Damned if those dogs didn't go flying out the back door to bark at that cat some more after I shut the door.

It is like I live in a lunatic wildlife asylum.  I have two nutty dogs, Megatron, the other cat next door that taps on the glass to torment the dogs, exotic lizards, skunks, hawks, and peacocks.  I guess I should be thankful that there aren't lions and tiger running around this place, too.

victory (garden)!

First, let's take a look at those pumpkins:

Notice how they always look the same?  See how they don't seem to be getting much bigger?   Looks like I am looking at having mature pumpkins in about 2012 at this rate...

But my radishes as lettuce are looking good.  Also, my bell peppers are starting to sprout.

And my newest addition -- broccoli and brussels sprouts!

And cilantro

And my basil bonanza (I have sweet basil, lemon basil and thai basil):

But I will always be a pineapple princess:

so long, kitty

When I first brought you home in when I was a senior in high school, you loved me beyond anything else and would cry when I left you alone. Then one day I was taking you to my room and you saw a plastic lei hanging on my door and you attacked my face. You never felt the same way about me after that. I can't say that I really ever got over having my face clawed.  After the incident, you stopped crying when I left the room and you didn't want to snuggle at night anymore. Then I moved to a place you weren't allowed to live in so I left you with my parents. Despite the attack, I didn't really want to leave you behind.  But I did.  And then you became completely and absolutely obsessed with my dad. You also grew to hate my mom after she dropped a glass too close to you. By the time I lived in a place where you could come live with me, you loved my dad so much that it would have been wrong to move you.

Over the years you were mostly an unfriendly cat to the world at large. When company came to visit you would disappear somewhere in the house. We never did figure out where you went, so we just called it Narnia.  I guess we will never figure out where Narnia is now.

Other than my dad, you had a true love for the family Airedale, Winston. You would demand that we let him in the house so the two of you could hang out and take naps together. After he died, you threw fits at the backdoor for months demanding that we let him in the house. And you never forgave the new dog for taking his place. Astro was never your dog. After Winston was gone, your obsession with my dad grew to new heights. You started demanding he get up and keep you company in the middle of the night and anytime he sat down you were instantly on him trying to get in his face.

And then one day you got nice again. Maybe you had a stroke?  You came out to visit company. You forgave me and my mom for our past transgressions.  You someotime were happy to see me when I cam over.  You even enjoyed taunting Laverne when I brought the girls to visit Astro.  But you never really liked Astro because, well, he was never your dog. You only tolerated him or tried to get him in trouble.  Oh well, you can't like everyone. 

Over the past 19 years, you have been an unusual cat. Your relationship with most of the world was complicated and usually involved blood shed at some point. But we all loved you and will miss you. I hope you enjoy your adventures in Narnia forever more.

dear santa

Today the Neiman Marcus Christmas Book came out.  And so why would be care about the Needless Markup catalogue?  I can tell you why in two words: CUPCAKE CARS.  You heard me.  Cupcake cars.  This is totally what I want for Christmas.  And I want a whole fleet of cupcake cars.  Really, what would be the fun if you were driving a cupcake car on your own?  I mean silly cars that have a matching hat are fun and all, but it would be way more fun with a friend or ten.  When I saw the cupcake cars, I called the Pineapple Dad and made him promise that if he won the lottery he would buy this for me.  At first he questioned why I would want a fleet of cupcake cars, let alone a fleet of cupcake cars.  And then he saw the videos on youtube.  And he agreed that if either one of won the lottery, we are getting a fleet of cupcake cars.  Still doubting that cupcakes are super awesome?  Check this out:



If this doesn't convince you that a cupcake car party would rock your world, then something is wrong with the way you are wired.  Seriously.  

yankee, doodle and dandy

I know I've done a spotty job of keeping you up to date with my pumpkins.  But don't worry I have pictures.  Hell, I even took some while I had the flu.  Not that I remember doing that, but it seems I did.  I'll be posting highlights later this week.  Apparently, I was really into photographing pumpkins, radishes, and lettuce in my fevered state.  Also? I took quite a few pictures of my dogs.  I guess that would be normal if I only remembered doing it...  Anywho, I'm getting off the topic here.

When I started my pumpkin seeds (the second time), I planted a whole bunch just to be sure.  And then they all grew.  So I promised the Pineapple Dad that he could have whatever I didn't plant.  As the weeks went by he would call to check on his pumpkin plant.  He even named it.  Pumpkin Doodle.  Seriously.  I'd pick up the phone and the first thing I'd hear was, "How's Pumpkin Doodle?"  There were several calls where checking on Pumpkin Doodle was the sole purpose for calling me.  Don't worry about how I'm doing.

You may recall that I mentioned my original plan was to dump a pile of dirt in my "garden" and see what happened.  Clearly, that did not happen.  So after my gardening extravaganza I was left with three pumpkin plants.  I called the Pineapple Dad to let him know what to expect and he was thrilled.  And they all have names now: Pumpkin Yankee (the northern most pumpkin plant), Pumpkin Doodle, and Pumpkin Dandy.  And so what did he do when I took them over?  Dumped a pile of dirt on the ground and stuck them in there.

flu-b-gone

Look, I don't know if what I had was swine flu.  Or H1N1.  Or whatever the cool kids are calling it these days.  But it was the flu.  And it was a motherfucker.  I decided not to visit the doctor for a few reasons.  For one thing, I was too sick to drive my sick ass there.  I live alone and who wants to be trapped in the car with someone that clearly has cooties.  Also?  There are sick people at the doctor's office.  I had enough on my plate without being exposed to strange germs just to have a nurse shove a q-tip up my nose to see if I have the flu.  Dude.  I had the flu.  Luckily, I also had a prescription of Tamiflu in my medicine cabinet.  I admit it, I hoard shit.  Not like get your guns ready for the Armageddon kind of hoarding, but I like to keep a stocked pantry and medicine cabinet kind of hoarding.

But it wasn't until I started getting better that I realized how bad off I was.  For one thing, I took some extra doses of Tamiflu along the way and finished early.  Oops.  I also made a double batch of jell-o that I don't remember making at all.  I walked into the kitchen to get a ginger ale and there were two open jello boxes on the counter and a pan of jell-o in the fridge.  Don't get me wrong, I was glad it was there.   But really? Jell-o?  There were some things that got moved around in my house.  I guess I'm lucky I didn't rearrange the furniture in my fevered state.

I also got very bored.  I cleared out my DVR.  I didn't have any books I wanted to read.  And how much time can you really stand to spend on Twitter haranguing people for their complete inability to fact-check a story before publishing it?  Frankly, I found out more than the local newspaper or that hip wannabe website ever did in five minutes sitting on my couch with a raging fever.  But that jell-o turned out to be one of the most interesting things going on at my house.  It wiggles and jiggles, after all.  But your standards for what constitutes entertainment hit a new low when you are holed up like a fugitive in your home for a week.  Technically, I'm better now.  I'm still worn out and all I want to do is stay home and sleep.  Hopefully this will pass because I don't think I can handle another weekend of staring at my wall that really need to be painted.

why dogs don't make you feel better

As I wallow in my misery, I realized that the love my dogs have for me doesn't always make me feel better.  Mostly because they do things like:

1. Steal the blankets.  When I dragged my flu suffering ass home from work and on to the couch yesterday, the first thing that Laverne did was steal my blanket.  So I got another one.  And she stole that one too.  How many blankets does this dog need to get under?  And how can a not-so-swift dog get the better of me over and over?  I'm the one with the thumbs!  Pathetic.

2.  Wake you up in the middle of the night because they want to be talked to and patted on the head.  Seriously.  I woke up because Shirley was staring at me.  Four inches away from my face.  Creepy much? When I opened my eyes her tail started furiously thumping on the bed.  I thought she needed to out so I got up out of bed.  But she just sat there looking at me like I was the crazy one.  I muttered an obscenity under my breath and her tail started going crazy again.  This is when I realized she woke me up so I could talk to her.  I thought I had two dogs so they could keep one another company.

3.  Wake you up at 6:30 in the morning demanding to be let out and fed.  Frankly, I expected more from Laverne because she is notorious for wanting to sleep in.  But not today.  I woke up to her howling at the back door.  Howling.  The dog has never howled.  Ever.  Until 6:30 this morning.

4.  Panic when it starts raining.  I feel like I've been hit by a ton of bricks.  I'm hot.  I'm cold. I hurt all over.  I do not want 100 plus pounds of dog on my lap and in my face.

pineapple plants a pumpkin patch

You may recall that in July I claimed to become a pumpkin farmer. Well, a few weeks into the pumpkin growing, I took my sweet little plants outside for a good soak.  And then I forgot to bring them back in.  They died a tragic, heat related death.  So, I planted a new batch-o-pumpkins.  After weeks of tending to my plants and a week of acclimating them to the outdoors, today was the big day.

When I started, I have a weedy, unruly patch of yard that I blocked off last year.  I never got around to building beds for a garden.

First I need to back up the story.  There once was a HUGE tree in my backyard.  It was probably one of the oldest elm trees in the neighborhood.  However, we have been in a drought for the past two years and had extreme heat this summer.  This lovely tree dropped a huge limb on my roof and slowly began to die.  I had the tree taken down.

And then I had the tree guys turn it into mulch and leave it in the front yard.  Much to my neighbor's dismay, it has been sitting in that huge pile for over a month.  Come on!  It has been too hot to do anything with it.

My original plan was to dump so dirt piles in my weedy patch and see who would win - the pumpkins or the weeds.  But I just couldn't do it.  So I went back to my original plan that never came to fruition.  So I started by using the old newspapers to act as a weed barrier.

And then I put a whole bunch of mulch around the beds to cover up the pretty, pretty newspaper.

And then I put a whole bunch of dirt and compost in the beds and mixed it up.  And I built some mounds for the plants and covered that with even more mulch.

Bring in the pumpkins...

And then I put 'em in the dirt and watered them real good, like.

Now I just have to finish the other half of my garden to put in some other veggies I picked up at the garden center when I went to get more dirt.  Tomorrow I take the rest of the pumpkin plants to the Pineapple Parents for their pumpkin patch.  I am a gardening fool.

Do You Know How Much I Love My Dogs?

So much that when I accidentally bought salmon dog food, I still fed it to them.  Besides wondering how much I spoil my dogs, you may wonder why this is a sign of my love?  First, I freely admit that my dogs eat much better than I do.  Hell, no one puts a spoonful of yummy canned dog food on my kibble every night.  Or a dollop of yogurt on my morning kibble.  Not that I'd want that, but I think of it as like if someone gave you a salad and then put a whole bunch of ranch dressing on it.  I'd like the salad much better.  So here's where the love comes in.  I am violently allergic to salmon and the smell of it makes me want to hurl.  When I was putting the cans in the pantry and I saw that I grabbed a can of nasty salmon, I considered just throwing it away.  Then I thought that was wasteful and decided to exchange it for something not so gross.  Then I got lazy.  But today I got brave.  And while I didn't hurl, I'm not hungry for dinner anymore.  Maybe this is a new diet plan because you could offer me all the ranch, mayonnaise, butter, bacon, and fried whatever and I'd still turn it down.  

Nobody Puts Baby In the Corner

RIP Patrick Swayze. You made some of the best crappy movies ever made.

RIP Jim Carroll

I didn't know you, but I have friends who did. I know it is a little late, but I had a send off for you today. I cranked up "People Who Died" and danced while the dogs barked wildly (they aren't fans of my dancing). Hope you liked it.

I had no idea!

Did you know that the Ford Pinto hit the American market on September 11, 1970? I had no idea until I was watching Countdown last night (yes, how lame of me to sit at home alone on a Friday night watching a newsertainment show). Frankly, I'd rather remember that on September 11th. Much less depressing, no? I mean, check out this ad:

After all, it was the little carefree car (with just a little case of fire and explosion).

Do They Really Think We Will Forget?

I'm not trying to make light about what happened on 9/11. I am certainly not going to get into whether it was an act of terrorism or an inside job (does it matter? the end result is that a lot of people died.). And I would never start a debate on how a certain administration took advantage of the situation to start a really unnecessary war (at this point, it should not be a question). But here's the thing. Ain't nobody forgetting. And, frankly, I'm sick of people telling me not to forget. I'm not interested in your stupid status updates about never forgetting, I don't want your cheesy or depressing emails about what happened to those poor people that day, and I don't care how much it upset you to see that shit go down on the TV from the safety of your own home (I promise it was much worse for the people that were there or had friends and family that were there).

Because here's the other part that we really shouldn't forget:
1. The way our president sat in that classroom after he was told what happened and didn't move his sorry ass into action for like 15 minutes. And then he made ridiculous speeches about wanting people "dead or alive". I blame that yankee from Connecticut for making my home state look like a fucking joke (please note, I know there are others that now carry his torch).
2. The way the government told us we should buy duct tape to protect ourselves from terrorist attacks (are you fucking kidding me? I needed to buy some duct tape for a valid reason and couldn't find any. What bullshit. And MREs? No thanks.).
3. The way the media ran stories about how scared we should be and that people in Middle-of-fucking-nowhere, USA were in imminent danger of terrorism attacks. (Yes, because terrorists have heard all about your shitty community and hate you personally.).
4. The way ready.gov explained what I should do when the dirty bomb hit Austin (There were maps and everything. Way to tell the bad guys EXACTLY where to go!).
5. The way that now when you disagree with the government, you are now labeled un-American, not exercising your rights as an American citizen.

This last point lives strong today. And frankly I blame this intolerance as the start of why we, as a country, can no longer have a meaningful debates about anything. The townhall meetings are evidence of that. Biting someone's finger because you disagree is just not right.

So, if you don't like what I have to say, you can call me un-American. Whatever. All I can do is paraphrase the Loco Gringos and say, "Fuck you, I'm from Texas."

Grow up!

My DOGS paid better attention to the President than some people (hello! Eric Cantor I could see you texting and fooling around on your phone the whole time Obama was speaking. Maybe if you paid attention you would learn something). And my dogs did not yell out inappropriate or regrettable things during his speech (Joe Wilson, you should not call the President a liar when he clearly is not. Show some respect, asshat). In fact, they sat on the couch a listened the whole time. Often times they politely wagged their tails (of course, they have always loved Obama). And they probably understood more than Charles Boustany as evidenced by his rebuttal (how many times were you sued for malpractice anyway? three?).

At this point, I am going to insist that the Republicans take some lessons in manners from my unruly dogs. That may be the only way we will get healthcare reform.

09.09.09

Really? What does this mean? Satan is standing on his head? That we all live in a yellow submarine? Seriously. What is the deal??? I guess it is cool that the date is all matchy and The Beatles are on the radio all day. Number 9. Number 9. Number 9. Other than that, today has been kinda funky. For thing, mad hung it up today. No more drunken haikus! This makes me sad. All good things really do come to an end.

And then at the grocery store, I think my soulmate was in line in front of me. I didn't talk to him though. We had almost the same things in our carts. I'm not sure I would have picked some of the yogurt flavors I saw, but I'd be willing to give some of them a shot. Especially for my soulmate. Even the overworked, underpaid checker noticed that our carts were full of the same stuff. Here's the rub. My soulmate? Apparently is an old gay guy. Otherwise, I might have asked him over for some organic, hormone free yogurt. I'm not much of one for dating gay men. It doesn't really lead anywhere.

The long and short of it is that I discovered my dog, Laverne, gets a little wiggy over certain Beatles songs (especially songs from the album Abbey Road) and I have a fridge full of yogurt.

Ugh!

It has been a long month since my last post. I've been semi-posting tweets because most days 140 characters is about all I can handle. But now that I have a new bad ass MacBook Pro and a clean desk in a functional home office, I find myself almost inspired. Please note that I said almost. Yesterday, I hit some sort of twitter wall because I couldn't keep it under 140 characters. And I tried. And tried. And tried some more. I thought about logging into the blog yesterday, but my thoughts were still too scattered. Also? I thought it was much more important to get all of my photos transfered from my old computer. And there were a lot of them. I also thought I should change all of the music on my iPods (how did I end up with two? and why do I think I need to use both of them?). Some of the redundancy in my life boggles the mind. But here I am.

By about 7:02 this morning, I decided that four day work weeks are just a crap idea. This was about the time I checked my work email this morning and saw that my most favorite complainant wanted another go 'round. Next I had to explain to someone that just because you build a little shelf and put your full sized dryer on a rack in a closet over a top loading washing machine (the lid doesn't fully open), that doesn't mean you have a stackable washer dryer unit. Seriously, the picture looks like it came from one of those "you know you are redneck when" emails. Maybe I should scan the picture and start an internet sensation. And why is this part of my job anyway? I have no idea. This all occurred within my first two hours of work (one lunatic per hour???). The day did not improve (the one lunatic per hour quota continued and was often exceed). The rest of it is either too boring or just too shitty to repeat. In short, four day work weeks just mean you have more shitty things packed into less time. All crap. No waiting.

And I'm mad at the Republicans. Since when is it "indoctrination" to tell children to work hard in school? Sturdy so you can ne a socialist, too??? One of my friends said she listened to President Obama's speech backwards and heard the Communist Manifesto. I just wonder if after posting that on Facebook, if people are taking her seriously and seeing if it is really true. Bask in the sarcasm, people!

And I'm also mad that people think it is OK to tell people that you hate the president and that he should die like a slug (check out the video on youtube of the pastor from Arizona). What is up with that? I think it was pretty clear that I hate what Cheney, McCain, Palin, and Rick Perry (especially him right now), and other like them stand for, but I don't ever recall suggesting that they die like slugs (or any other way for that matter). Mostly I just wish they would shut up an go away.

But one piece of enjoyment of late? The Gonzales Cantata! You should totally listen to it. The dude won't go away either. First he is for an investigation of allegations of CIA torture of prisoners. And then against it the very next day. It is always shocking that anyone cares what he thinks, but there is no accounting for what Fox "News" will air. I also wonder if his teaching style is like that. Today you have an A, but then the next day he decides you got a D.

Well, that certainly wouldn't fit in one tweet.
And coming soon: more pumpkin news. I bet you thought I forgot!!!