Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Adding to the happy is our new friend, Agador Spartacus. After much thought and consideration....plus a crap-ton of cajoling Joe, we adopted our new stripey guy last night from the Animal Welfare League.
In case you don't know, Animal Welfare League, in spite of their claims, is in fact a "kill-shelter"--which means they euthanize animals that cannot be or are not adopted. It's the sad truth that all animals cannot be saved, but they do what they can to home as many as possible.
Knowing this, I made the conscious effort to adopt an older kitty from AWL, knowing that otherwise, this guy may have been put down. We can't have that for the holidays, can we? Nope.
So, while we are waiting to see his personality in full bloom, naming him has been postponed for at least a few days. In the meantime, I have named him Agador Spartacus. And for some reason, Joe does not find this hilarious. Joe is a buzzkill. all. the. time.
From our happy and thankful home, we are wishing you and yours a very Happy Thanksgiving. May love surround you on this day too.
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
G'ma Phyl reports that Finn still needs a little outside time to keep sane. I guess he was so used to being outdoors, he likes to go out in her screened porch for a little bit of fresh air and watch the birdies each day.
Initially, she was worried about him being out in the cold air, but then she realized that maybe he just needed some space. So, she trained him to ring a little bell on the patio door for when he wants to go out. And then she watches carefully to see when he wants to come back in. I swear she is more concerned about the safety of Finn than she ever was about us kids.
And while he doesn't mind the cold, the snow was a little much for Finn. He went out on Saturday, took one look at the snow and ran back inside with a loud MEOW. G'ma Phyl said that since being rescued from the parking lot at work, Finn has decided that the electric blanket on her bed is much nicer than being out in snow and cold winter temperatures.
Slowly, but surely, Finn is turning into a spoiled house cat. Not that G'ma Phyl had anything to do with that....
Sunday, November 22, 2015
Whatcha watchin', you ask?
We are officially addicted to The Great British Baking Show.
Not even kidding. It's fine television, I tell you. Especially if you are weary of the options: inane sitcoms, torture/murder/crime shows, fighting/screaming housewives, or sensationalist "news" shows.
We are nearly finished, sadly, with the first season on Netflicks, but Joe found another season on PBS. It's a good night at our house when we can squeeze in an episode...and even more so when you have the time to stay up late to watch TWO in a row.
See? Like two little old ladies.
The premise: Round 1, the contestants prepare already-announced bakery item. They can practice at home prior to the contest. Then they are given a technical challenge--a bakery item that they are not familiar with. PLUS...they are not given all of the details in creating said item. The final is a difficult bakery item to complete the round. The winner of the day is "Star Baker" and one person loses....and goes home.
There are stiff-upper-lipped judges, who are a) kind in their assessments b) teach the contestant what they did wrong and c) encourage contestants even if their baked item was a total disaster. They still find something good in the finished product. Also on board are two witty hosts and a dozen contestants who dwindle away with each week.
What we find so attractive: The skill set of these bakers. And there is NO personal drama in this "reality" series. None. You don't hear about sick grandmas or sad back-stories. There is no fighting or nasty comments about other bakers. It is strictly about the baked goods.
There is a 4-week holiday contest coming up on TV one of these days. Be sure to watch for it in your local listings.
Come join Joe and I on the Little Old Lady Couch.
Friday, November 20, 2015
Do I believe it? Nope. The ground isn't even frozen yet--how are we to have a foot of snow?
In today's panic-driven society and news reports, I'm supposed to run for cover, hunker down and prepare for doom.
I'm cynical, if you haven't noticed already. I'll believe it when I see it.
The last time I said that, we had this:
I'll let you know if I am wrong.
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Joe came home from work yesterday and said "It's time. Let's go to Harry Miller Appliance and then out for dinner." I guess the refrigerator is leaking inside again. We are risking it....that beast is dying a slow, but sure, death. It's getting closer to dying each day, so it's best to cut it off at the knees and go get one before we are skunked.
So, off we were to Harry Miller Appliance. (We don't care much for big box store and go with the "little guy" whenever possible.)
Score one for patience for Joe and Lin. The old guy working there was hell-bent on selling us something we didn't want. He spoke for us...never really listened. And just when we were about to snap and head off to the chain.....he got it. We found the model number of what we wanted...he hand-wrote it up on a sheet of paper...and we paid for the beast.
It should be delivered......surprising the old fridge....next week.
Don't you DARE whisper to the old one that it's on its way out. It's a sneak attack by Joe and Lin.
As we waited...patiently for the old guy to write it up, Joe was perusing the freezers--pointed out the the stand-alone next to the desk where I was sitting.
"I want one of these," Joe said.
"Really?" I replied. "It's just you and me...we don't have that much in our freezer. Unless....you are planning on murdering me and putting my parts in there."
The old guy started cracking up.
Why do I think he's gonna report that story to anyone who's looking for a freezer?
Monday, November 16, 2015
I was a little intimidated because there is a Golden Corkscrew trophy and a 1st Place medallion at stake...and of course I'd want to win that. But, me-of-little-wine-knowledge-I-only-like-to-drink-the-stuff had no clue what was involved in a) participating or b) how to win. I went anyway.
This was serious stuff. We were offered a glass of Champagne when we first came in--you know, not to upset the palate. Whatever that means. After a bit of mingling and making conversation, the "tasting" began.
There were 6 wines on the table in identical carafes--each with a letter on them. We were supposed to score (on a score sheet) color, smell, taste, aftertaste and if the wines were a Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot or Chianti. Also, we were to determine the $10, $20 and $50 bottles of wine. Highest score possible was 12.
I grabbed my souvenir "Wineapalooza 2015" wine glass and got ready to win. Or not.
Joe and I poured, sniffed, swirled and sipped the wines. We made half-jokes about being idiots and moved along the table like 2 morons. We tried to be cool, but when Joe is saying Chianti like "She-aunti", you know we were in trouble.
We didn't win, needless to say. The winner scored a 7, so my 5 really wasn't too bad. And while I didn't know a Chianti from a Boone's Farm, I guessed pretty well. I did guess the high-priced wines--go figure.
Joe...well,....he got a 1. Totally embarrassing. And it didn't help that he kept saying "She-auntie?! Isn't she married to Jay Zee? I have her 8-track at home!"
We are classy folk.... in case you didn't know that already. sigh.
Friday, November 13, 2015
Years ago, when Em was much, much younger, we were on a string of hamsters. Having a string of hamsters isn't hard because those darn things only live like 2 years..MAX. So, while they are cute and fun...you find yourself bawling your eyes out before you know it because the damn thing died. And then you have to run out and get another because your kid won't stop crying either. It is not fun.
Here is Muffin. If I am repeating this story, just click to the next blog. I can't remember if I told this story or not.
We made a mad-dash to the pet store to get a hamster after we lost one to cancer. Poor thing had a tumor and I had the joyful (not) task of paying the vet $12 to put it down humanely. A few days later, we are back at the pet store. "We want a girl hamster" Em tells the teen clerk. So, she picks one out and sends us home with "Muffin"--the GIRL hamster.
Except like two weeks later, Muffin the GIRL hamster sprouts the largest set of....uh....manliness...off his back end that I have ever seen. Like the damn thing can hardly walk. Seriously.
When I point this out to Joe, he says "You are obsessed with his (insert off-color remark here), Lin." Uh...no...no I wasn't. I just had never seen anything like that before. And try explaining it to the kids a) what that is off the back end of their new hamster and b) why we can't call him "Muffin" any longer.
But...we did. Except it was now "Stud Muffin" or "Muffin, the Well-Hung Hamster."
He was a nice hamster, although a wee bit of a chicken. We had to remove the little plastic tube that went up to a skyhouse in his cage because he was convinced something was gonna come down that tube and murder him in his sleep. So he'd take every fleck of shavings and bedding from his cage and stuff that tube SOLID so that no intruder was gonna get him. He'd lay there...on the cold cage floor with no bedding, no shavings..... no skin left on his nose....but he was SAFE, dammit.
Then when that problem was solved, he insisted on packing all of his belongings into the exercise wheel. Then he'd pee on all of it...and run like the dickens...coating himself in food, bedding, shavings and his own pee.
Muffin also got a lot of baths.
He was not a very bright hamster, but we loved him. And he lived a very long, happy life of like 2 years....and then we ended our string of hamsters. You just cannot top that guy.