We’re going to have to start locking Rogue in a padded cell at night.

9 “And the patriarchs, becoming envious, sold Joseph into Egypt. But God was with him 10 and delivered him out of all his troubles, and gave him favor and wisdom in the presence of Pharaoh, king of Egypt; and he made him governor over Egypt and all his house. 11 Now a famine and great trouble came over all the land of Egypt and Canaan, and our fathers found no sustenance. 12 But when Jacob heard that there was grain in Egypt, he sent out our fathers first. 13 And the second time Joseph was made known to his brothers, and Joseph’s family became known to the Pharaoh. 14 Then Joseph sent and called his father Jacob and all his relatives to him, seventy-five people. 15 So Jacob went down to Egypt; and he died, he and our fathers. 16 And they were carried back to Shechem and laid in the tomb that Abraham bought for a sum of money from the sons of Hamor, the father of Shechem.

(with apologies to Tee Tee)

We closed on the house today! Yay! No more mortgage payments, no more extra electric bills, no more extra water bills, no more extra sewer bills, no more HOA payments, no more exploding water heaters, no more gardener to pull the weeds for us… No more ties.

Awesome.

To celebrate, Frank bought champagne, and to say goodbye to Florida, he bought Florida orange juice. We mixed them together and had mimosas. Yummy, never had those before.

We’re looking forward to visiting Florida (didn’t like living there, but I can’t wait to vacation there). I’m trying to get Frank to go in 2009 after The Wizarding World of Harry Potter opens at Universal (I’m thinking November, when it’s slightly less suffocatingly hot than in October). Spend a whole week at Disney, hang out with our bloggy friends. Go back to the KSC (I miss it). Drive down US-1 along the Indian River, take A1A to Jupiter Beach…

I truly don’t miss living there. I just miss a couple of things about Florida. No seller’s remorse here, yo.

Anyway, if I didn’t say it already, Florida… boo-bye.

1 Then the high priest said, “Are these things so?”

2 And he said, “Brethren and fathers, listen: The God of glory appeared to our father Abraham when he was in Mesopotamia, before he dwelt in Haran, 3 and said to him, “Get out of your country and from your relatives, and come to a land that I will show you.’ 4 Then he came out of the land of the Chaldeans and dwelt in Haran. And from there, when his father was dead, He moved him to this land in which you now dwell. 5 And God gave him no inheritance in it, not even enough to set his foot on. But even when Abraham had no child, He promised to give it to him for a possession, and to his descendants after him. 6 But God spoke in this way: that his descendants would dwell in a foreign land, and that they would bring them into bondage and oppress them four hundred years. 7 “And the nation to whom they will be in bondage I will judge,’ said God, “and after that they shall come out and serve Me in this place.’ 8 Then He gave him the covenant of circumcision; and so Abraham begot Isaac and circumcised him on the eighth day; and Isaac begot Jacob, and Jacob begot the twelve patriarchs.

Someone stole my lunch food! I brought it in Monday, because I forgot I was going to lunch that day with Boss and a couple of other people. Yesterday, Frank and I were running all over town at lunch trying to get something notarized for our house closing (finally at our fourth stop, we were able to get that done), so I ate a can of fruit cocktail for lunch when I got back. So I still had my leftover chicken mix from the tostadas I made last week.

Just now I went in to get my food out of the fridge. Half of it is gone! And the thing is, I work with adults.

I’m hoping that they spooned it out onto a plate when they snaked my food, because I’m hungry and therefore eating what the rogue left me.

Next time I bring in food, I’m going to mark the container. “This is Sarah’s food. That means it is not yours. If you’d like some, please ask.” Or something equally snotty. Y’all know me.

8 And Stephen, full of faith and power, did great wonders and signs among the people. 9 Then there arose some from what is called the Synagogue of the Freedmen (Cyrenians, Alexandrians, and those from Cilicia and Asia), disputing with Stephen. 10 And they were not able to resist the wisdom and the Spirit by which he spoke. 11 Then they secretly induced men to say, “We have heard him speak blasphemous words against Moses and God.” 12 And they stirred up the people, the elders, and the scribes; and they came upon him, seized him, and brought him to the council. 13 They also set up false witnesses who said, “This man does not cease to speak blasphemous words against this holy place and the law; 14 for we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place and change the customs which Moses delivered to us.” 15 And all who sat in the council, looking steadfastly at him, saw his face as the face of an angel.

Rogue has come to be known in this house as “The Terrorist.” Minerva is sweet and cuddly — the worst she does when we’re trying to sleep is burrow down between my knees so she can be more comfortable, and if we try to sleep in on a Saturday, she comes up and starts gently clawing our chests or faces so we’ll know that it is time for her pets. Sydney just knocks everything off the counters and rips up my fake plants.

And then there’s Rogue. When we got her she was eight pounds. Within two weeks of unlimited supply of cat food, she weighed ten. The vet told us to put the food up where she couldn’t reach it but the others could (she can’t jump, so if she can’t climb or claw her way up onto something, she can’t get there — it’s her most awesome feature) and ration her food. We did that for a while, and then we moved here. Everything was just too hectic to bother with that. Until we took her to the vet a few weeks ago. She is now a twelve-pound beast.

So now Minerva and Syndey eat on the kitchen bar (the only place in the house Rogue can’t get to), and Rogue’s food is on the guest bathroom floor. And she gets rationings. The recommended food for a cat trying to lose weight is something like 3/4 cup per day. We give her about 1/2 cup twice a day. So she’s getting plenty of food. The only reason we do 1/2 cup twice a day is because occasionally, Minerva eats from Rogue’s food, so we can’t really be sure that Rogue’s getting her full 3/4 if we only give her that much.

Well. Around six o’clock every morning, Rogue starts climbing around on my night table. She knocks off anything that will make a noise. Then she walks across us and over to Frank’s night table and throws off books, keys, wallet, anything else she can find. Then she stands up with her front paws on the wall and starts playing the kitteh version of tetherball with the cord to the blinds. Just bangs the wooden knob around, making as much noise as possible.

Clearly this cat has been trained in kitteh-getz-fed tactics.

Not to mention (wait, this means I *am* mentioning) that any time one of us has food on our plate left over after a meal, she gets up on the couch, pretending to want to snuggle, grabs something off of a plate, and throws it onto the floor. Like “There! You’re done eating! So get me some food!”

She also headbutts us if we ignore her when she wants us to pet her. She’s really not a nice kitteh.

Wot? Fesh gotz ta swam, kittehz gotz ta eet.

1 Now in those days, when the number of the disciples was multiplying, there arose a complaint against the Hebrews by the Hellenists, because their widows were neglected in the daily distribution. 2 Then the twelve summoned the multitude of the disciples and said, “It is not desirable that we should leave the word of God and serve tables. 3 Therefore, brethren, seek out from among you seven men of good reputation, full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom, whom we may appoint over this business; 4 but we will give ourselves continually to prayer and to the ministry of the word.”

5 And the saying pleased the whole multitude. And they chose Stephen, a man full of faith and the Holy Spirit, and Philip, Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicolas, a proselyte from Antioch, 6 whom they set before the apostles; and when they had prayed, they laid hands on them.

7 Then the word of God spread, and the number of the disciples multiplied greatly in Jerusalem, and a great many of the priests were obedient to the faith.

FOUR. Four overtimes. FOUR. And I couldn’t watch it.

And btw, _Jon, my Stars are totally gonna kick your Wings’ pinkytoes in the WESTERN CONFERENCE FINALS! I’m so excited my Stars are in the conference finals, whether I can watch or not.

As to the not watching, dudes, I can’t take it. 61 saves out of Marty. 61. In a quadruple overtime win. Any critics who hadn’t already changed their minds about Marty’s playoff stamina because there hadn’t been a five-plus-hour overtime win may now shut up.

Modano and Morrow are killing this season, and especially this playoff season, it’s like old Modano, and I just may die from the sheer pain of having to miss it all.

Someone should tape these games and send them to me. Yes, I would even watch on a VCR.

Maybe it’ll be an ESPN instant classic.

I’m dying, y’all.

Go Stars!

33 When they heard this, they were furious and plotted to kill them. 34 Then one in the council stood up, a Pharisee named Gamaliel, a teacher of the law held in respect by all the people, and commanded them to put the apostles outside for a little while. 35 And he said to them: “Men of Israel, take heed to yourselves what you intend to do regarding these men. 36 For some time ago Theudas rose up, claiming to be somebody. A number of men, about four hundred, joined him. He was slain, and all who obeyed him were scattered and came to nothing. 37 After this man, Judas of Galilee rose up in the days of the census, and drew away many people after him. He also perished, and all who obeyed him were dispersed. 38 And now I say to you, keep away from these men and let them alone; for if this plan or this work is of men, it will come to nothing; 39 but if it is of God, you cannot overthrow it–lest you even be found to fight against God.”

40 And they agreed with him, and when they had called for the apostles and beaten them, they commanded that they should not speak in the name of Jesus, and let them go. 41 So they departed from the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for His name. 42 And daily in the temple, and in every house, they did not cease teaching and preaching Jesus as the Christ.

SARAHK: I like working at home, because I can call people idiots, and they can’t hear me.
FRANK: That sounds like something you’d like.

Did you catch the cameo on CSI Thursday night?

So. cool.

So yesterday was pretty crappy. We had a staff meeting first thing in the morning, and it lasted until 10:30. [Aside about that: Boss brought in bagels for everyone, and I wasn’t expecting there to be anything I could eat, and then he pulled a cup of fruit out of the bag. I exclaimed, “Is that for me?!” Yes, as long as I can eat corn syrup, and I can. That was pretty cool of Boss, I thought.] Then I had my biweekly meeting with Boss. Then I started finishing the previous day’s work, which I obviously didn’t finish on the previous day. Then it was lunchtime, and I was taking one of our recent hires out for lunch. We went to Carino’s. The waiter brought me a celiac menu and was very helpful in determining what I should eat to avoid the dairy. It turned out well, and so far, I haven’t been sick.

But eating at Carino’s was soooooo slow. And then on the way back we got stuck in traffic. Forever. So that ended up being a two hour lunch.

I got back to work and started to finish yesterday’s work. There are certain entries that I have to post either on the last day of the month or the first day of the next month. Yesterday, being May 1st (carry the one), was the first day of the following month. So I absolutely had to finish my last day entries yesterday. Because there are other departments waiting on me to finish, and if I don’t finish on time, that means they are delayed in closing their entities.

Aaaaand, of course, when I got into posting the last few entries that absolutely *had* to be posted, I realized I’d screwed up some of the entries I made on Wednesday. And I transferred the wrong amount of money, which meant that not only did I have to correct my entry, I had to correct the transfer, and blah blah blah. Finally around 4 or 5, I was able to start working on the entity I had scheduled to finish yesterday.

Roughly an hour later, Boss came in and, not realizing that I’d spent most of my day on other things and hadn’t worked on my scheduled Beast Entity at all, decided that he needed to go through what was open on my Beast Entity… line by line. I’ll save you from the ghastly long story, but the short story is this: he thought I’d been mired in the muck of Beast Entity all day and that I wasn’t doing the bare minimum like I was supposed to do (as we had determined the previous evening). He thought I was getting distracted by the details when I needed to be worried about the big picture and only do whatever was necessary to move on. So going line by line, account by account, through my Beast Entity… kind of disconcerted me and had me seriously biting my tongue. I just wanted to get my bearings, remember what I was doing (I close about 10 entities each month, some very complicated, and the last day of the month I am completely blocked off for two of my entities and their time-sensitive entries), post my entries, and take care of my bank recs (Beast Entity’s bank recs are nightmares). And I felt like Boss was micromanaging me. I bit my tongue for as long as I could, and the worst part was that Boss was doing this in front of my coworkers. I don’t mind him doing whatever he was doing in front of Elle, because she’s in the office with me all day and knows that I know what I’m doing. But our intern was there, too, and I was very embarrassed. To me, if you’re micromanaging someone, that comes across as you not having faith that your report can do their job. It disconcerted me, and every question he asked made me bristle. Eventually, I had to turn and make sure I wasn’t looking at him, because I had giant tears in my eyes. I just wanted to excuse myself to the bathroom so I could cry without further embarrassing myself. I didn’t want him to see me cry, and I didn’t want my coworkers to see it either. Again, notsomuch Elle, but I was thoroughly humiliated in front of our intern.

Of course, I finally got to the point where I was either going to sob in front of Boss (I so did not want to do that) or explode all over him. So when he asked me the next question (the intern had just left), I said, “Maybe we should discuss this tomorrow.” It was the best I could do. He said, “Why don’t you come to my office?” So it turned out I was going to cry in front of him after all. Awesome.

I went into his office, and the first thing I said to him was, “It feels really [crappy] to be micromanaged.” That started a big hour-long discussion about how he was just trying to get me on track because I had been working on Beast Entity all day and hadn’t posted the entries I had intended to post. “I haven’t been working on it all day. I only picked it up an hour ago.” Then I got the look that tacitly said, What? Have you been slacking off all day? His words, though, were, “Well, what have you been doing all day?” I was so offended by this that I could barely stumble through telling him every single thing I’d done all day.

To make matters worse, I had only the tissue I’d brought with me into his office, and he didn’t have any. As we discussed things, I finally blurted out, “You work with a bunch of women and you don’t have tissues in your office?” Mine was in shreds.

Anyway, we worked it out, I told him why I had just gotten started on the Beast and why I was so humiliated to be treated like someone who hadn’t audited companies for seven years and someone who didn’t know her stuff. He apologized for the humiliations galore, I apologized for being so defensive. He also apologized for jumping to the conclusion that I had been too into the details without first asking me how things were coming. I half-heartedly apologized for not telling him that I hadn’t even started the Beast until very late in the day, the half-heartedness being because I had told him certain things would be done by the end of the day, and that was still my intention.

We left things on a good note of sarcasm (I’m definitely the smart aleck of the office, and we all know I’m happy if I’m being wise) and I went back to my office and cried for the next two hours. That makes for some productive work, lemme tell ya. Lately when I cry, it takes me a long time to get the tears to stop flowing. Elle waited until he left and then checked to make sure I was okay. I told her all about what happened. She told me that when the whole thing had started, she didn’t think I wasn’t doing my job well (because she knows I’m awesome) — she was just wondering why he was doing what he was doing. She also told me she was so proud of me for standing up for myself like I do. That really meant a lot.

Elle left, and I cried off and on for the next two hours, finishing what I was supposed to finish. I took a couple of breaks to write blog posts, because I was seriously in bad shape and really needed to write about something.

I left work around 9:30, miserable. Frank, the awesomest husband evah had made bread (his first time), and I was just looking forward to a roast beef sandwich and a bottle glass of wine. And some anti-inflammatories. I’ve been inflamed for a couple of weeks now, all over my body. Which makes me think I’m developing yet another food intolerance. I hope not.

So I drove home. On the way home, I passed an electrical box, and something caught my eye. There was a heart painted on the electrical box. It’s the first time I ever liked graffiti. It made me smile.

A little closer to home… I stopped at a red light. As I pulled away from the light and was within twenty feet of turning into our neighborhood, I noticed that a cop was behind me. No biggie, the speed limit was 35, and I was still picking up speed and riding along at 30. Then when I increased my speed to 35… the cop turned on his lights.

You have got to be kidding me. I had tears in my eyes again.

I pulled over, made sure the pocket of my purse that contained my gun was zipped closed (I usually leave it open when I’m driving), and started looking for my license. I don’t have my Idaho license yet, my car tags are still Florida, and I couldn’t find my insurance card, so I just knew this would be bad. The policeman came up to my car and knocked on the window. I was really trying not to cry, but that wasn’t working. I hate crying in front of law enforcement. I don’t want anyone to go easy on me because I’m crying, and even more I don’t want anyone to *think* I’m putting on the waterworks so they’ll go easy. I told the officer I couldn’t roll down my window and would need to open my door, so he stepped back to let me open the door. He was smiling and saying howdy in that Idaho-friendly way (Idaho-friendly is even more friendly than Texas-friendly). He told me that the reason he pulled me over was because he noticed that my tags expired in 2007. I nodded and smiled. I said, “I’m really sorry, we’ve just moved from Florida,” and as I said that, I thought, wait, it’s been five months since we got here, and I totally would have volunteered that info if he’d asked. “I’m really sorry, we’ve just moved from Florida, and we’ve been so busy at work, and I really have been meaning to do it.” He was still smiling and nodding understandingly. “Well, I imagine, big move from Florida, you have bigger things on your mind than getting your license plates.” “Actually, it’s one of the top things on my list, but I just haven’t done it. I haven’t even gotten my license.” Volunteering more info than necessary cleansed my conscience of the “just moved” thing. “Well, when we see something like this, we just like to stop people and let them know that it is something they need to do, getting the Idaho plates.” I was getting a little hopeful. “But you’re all set, nothing to worry about, I just wanted to let you know.” He started to walk away, and now I was in full-on cry mode again. I said, “Thank you so much. I’ve had such a bad day, and you’ve just made it so much better.” He said, “Well, I’m sorry about your bad day, and I really hope you have a better day tomorrow.”

Highlight of my day.

P.S. Don’t be mean to Boss in the comments. He has to work with a bunch of chicks.

We were supposed to close on our house tomorrow, but as you know, the closing was pushed until next week. Apparently the people buying the house live up north and couldn’t make it to Florida in time for the closing.

I don’t remember if I told y’all about what came up in the house inspection. In case I didn’t, here’s a recap: There were several plumbing issues, and the realtor’s husband fixed those. We let them take the leftover mulch and garden soil from the garage in payment, and no, I didn’t think that was enough, but it is what they asked for. The carpet in the master bedroom closet was damp (the plumbers said it was from the water heater explosion), and the wall in that closet needed repair. We still had money left over from the insurance claim, so the insurance company paid for that. Thankfully, we didn’t need additional carpet cleaning. Other than that, they didn’t ask for additional repairs. The inspector noted carbon monoxide concerns because of the cat door leading to the garage, but the buyers didn’t ask for that to be replaced (and I would have said no — but Frank might have said yes).

We’re set to close next week, and I’m crossing my fingers it goes through. If not, we’ll have to send one more mortgage payment after all, and I was so happy when I got to delete that one and the HOA payment from the list.

Today has been teh total stink. I’ll probably work another hour and then give it up. In the comments, y’all tell me how awesome I am. I kind of need to hear it.

Kthx.

I’ve gotta get rid of the image titles for my posts. I love to conjugate, and I hate leaving out apostrophes (my image font doesn’t come with an apostrophe). Anyway.

Boss is training for the Hood to the Coast relay run in August, because he’s insane. I can’t remember how many miles per week he has been running, but it is a lot more than I’ve ever subjected myself to in a single week (my record is probably something lame like twelve miles in one week). And I have no idea why, but every time he talks about his training, I start to get the itch to run again. Which is really stupid, since I hate running and don’t currently have a decent pair of athletic shoes. I mean, I love the change of scenery (can’t run on a treadmill unless hockey is on), but I never look forward to the following things: getting dressed to go running (I don’t know why), getting started running (those first few steps are killers), running flat surfaces, and the long walk back to the house when I realize I’m far from home but out of juice.

Yeah, basically I only like running hills. Everyone always looks at me funny when I say that. “But that is the hardest part!” To me, it’s the easiest part. Maybe it’s because I run funny and use my shin muscles far more than my calf muscles and don’t use the right part of my thighs; I never learned the proper way of running, and by this point in my life, it hurts too much to try using different muscles. I can go about five steps before crapping out on that (that’s a running phrase my mom taught me many years ago — crapping out — or maybe it’s just a crazy Bikermommy phrase). So when I run, I end up with these insane Popeye shins that go perfectly with my cankles. Yeah, I’ve had them pretty much ever since I can remember (the cankles), so what am I going to do about them? They’ve actually gotten better since I stopped eating gluten and dairy, probably because I’m not in a state of chronic inflammation, so maybe one day I’ll have discernable ankles again. My massage therapist can even massage them now without me screaming in pain, but even as recently as Florida and dating back to Texas, my cankles were over-sensitive to touch. I wear pants so people don’t have to see them. Secret’s out.

Here’s why I love to run hills, or did when I used to run. Wait, I feel like I should stop here just to clarify that “run” used in context with “SarahK” means “jog very slowly for a distance of roughly 2.7 miles.” See, when I’m going up a hill, I have motivation: something to complete. If I can just get to the top of this hill, I can stop and walk for a while. And my freakishly strong thighs do kick in on the hills, so there’s also that — I actually exercise the big muscles on hills. Then when I get to the top of the hill, everything is easy. Oh. Well, it’s so easy now I think I’ll keep going for a while. And the cycle repeats.

In Florida, I could not motivate myself to run. I did it a few times, even tried to get back into the habit for a while, but when there are no hills to look forward to and you’re suffering in 99% humidity and high heat, I can’t get motivated for that kind of torture. But Idaho is different. There are actually a lot of hills around here that make me want to run them. We’ll be driving along, and I’ll say to Frank, “Oh, this hill would be so *awesome* to run.” And then I start mapping out my route in my head. The only problem is, the closest major hill to our house is a good mile away, and I would dread the start of the run every time.

But whatever. I just need to get over all my excuses and start up again. First, I’ll need a good pair of shoes. Always hard for me to find. Reeboks make the tops of my feet hurt, Sauconys provide great support for my inner cankles (which I need because I’m a serious pronator) but annoy my feet and make my knees hurt. Plus I got shin splints when I wore Sauconys, and I have no desire to go through that again. Nikes are the only ones that my feet actually feel good in, but I’ve never had a Nike with enough ankle support. I haven’t tried New Balance or Adidas shoes, so maybe I should start there. It’s too bad I don’t trust discount shoes for running, because I love Bass and hate spending money on shoes.

Next, I’ll need this for my iPod. Also, I’ll need to see if Frank’s Smart Carry fits me. Last I checked, it did, and I would really prefer to not have to carry around that fanny pack. I’ll also need new running clothes. I won’t run in shorts or anything body-hugging, because those things make me want to hide. And usually sportswear is either body-hugging or… wind pants, which just remind me way too much of parachute pants. Are there any stores that carry petite sportswear? Because otherwise I have to hem the pants, and that will just be another excuse for me not to run.

Ok, so here’s what I need y’all to do (I sound like Tammi!). Pester me. Send me emails or comments every day asking what I’ve done to get all the supplies I need for running. Then after I have everything I need (the hardest will be finding the shoes), ask me how far I ran that day. Dooo it. Maybe if y’all are making me feel embarrassed about my lack of motivation, I’ll get my fat butt moving.

Also, if any of y’all out there are runners, I need y’all to tell me every day how far you ran and how you feel superior to me because I didn’t.

That’ll either get me going or send me into a nervous breakdown. Either way is fine. Kthx.

We were watching CSI: NY last night, and one of the perps was born in 1976. I was like, “Oh! Dude’s 31!” Because see, I was born in 1976, and I’m 31. And then Montana said something rather sobering. “Mac, he’s 32!”

I looked at Frank, wide-eyed. He looked at me with raised eyebrows.

ME: He’s 32?? That means I’m going to be 32!!
HIM: Yeah! I didn’t realize that until now!
ME: I’m old.

Of course he agreed with me. Punk kid.

22 But when the officers came and did not find them in the prison, they returned and reported, 23 saying, “Indeed we found the prison shut securely, and the guards standing outside before the doors; but when we opened them, we found no one inside!” 24 Now when the high priest, the captain of the temple, and the chief priests heard these things, they wondered what the outcome would be. 25 So one came and told them, saying, “Look, the men whom you put in prison are standing in the temple and teaching the people!”

26 Then the captain went with the officers and brought them without violence, for they feared the people, lest they should be stoned. 27 And when they had brought them, they set them before the council. And the high priest asked them, 28 saying, “Did we not strictly command you not to teach in this name? And look, you have filled Jerusalem with your doctrine, and intend to bring this Man’s blood on us!”

29 But Peter and the other apostles answered and said: “We ought to obey God rather than men. 30 The God of our fathers raised up Jesus whom you murdered by hanging on a tree. 31 Him God has exalted to His right hand to be Prince and Savior, to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins. 32 And we are His witnesses to these things, and so also is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey Him.”

Global warming to take a ten-year rest.

Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Ok, I have more to say.
the rest of what you need to know »

Last night was my favorite Paula Abdul moment ever. Read all about it.

Notes from my listening to Fox this morning while reading blogs.

I think it’s pretty clear by now (says my inner conspiracy theorist) that China is trying to kill us. Lead based paint for the children, tainted wheat gluten for the pets, buying up all our debt (I’m sure that will somehow do something to us), and this latest little one — tainted heparin for heart and kidney patients.

Heparin is a widely used blood thinner, given to patients undergoing kidney dialysis or heart surgery to prevent dangerous clots.

Also? Given to patients with pituitary tumors who are getting ACTH stimulation tests. So if I die anytime soon, I want y’all to kill China for me. Kthx. But my test was almost two years ago, so hopefully I’m ok.

But the possible death toll just in the U.S. is 81 people. And that’s just from the heparin, and that’s just the U.S. They’re now saying that the tainted heparin (basically they added a heparin-mimicking ingredient that sends some people into shock and then death) is affecting at least eleven countries. China’s just trying to kill the whole world now — color me surprised. Did you see those poor people testifying on Capitol Hill today, breaking down in sobs over their dead spouses and children? China is laughing its communist butt off at our suffering, which they caused, of course, on purpose.

Call me a conspiracy theorist if you please. Whatever. China’s trying to kill us, and you just watch. It’ll turn out that North Korea isn’t the only evil regime building nuclear facilities in the Middle East. They’ll find that China’s doing the same thing.

Megyn on Fox News was asking someone what we can do about all of this bad stuff we’re getting from China. Um, stop doing business with China? Next question, please. You know everything you buy from China is made by the sweat of slave children. While I’m mentioning Megyn, lemme just say that it’s so painful watching her and Bill Hemmer, one of the dimmest bulbs on television. Seriously, I could make a whole category called “Stupid Stuff Bill Hemmer Says.” Oh, and those two are *so* doing it. I just blerged in my mouth a little.

Oh my goodness, Hemmer is now going on and on about how there’s a gator in Florida. That’s national news, probably a Fox News Alert. Oh wow, the gator went into a retention pond! That never happens in Florida. I love all these Florida people who are acting shocked and appalled for the benefit of Fox. You know as soon as the camera stops, those guys are laughing heartily at the fact that just another day in Florida is national news. Doggone it, I tuned in so I could see Barack Obama’s speech where he throws his pastor under the bus, and all I got was gators in Florida.

Forget this, I’m going to work.

11 “Thus says the Lord GOD: ‘Pound your fists and stamp your feet, and say, “Alas, for all the evil abominations of the house of Israel! For they shall fall by the sword, by famine, and by pestilence. 12 He who is far off shall die by the pestilence, he who is near shall fall by the sword, and he who remains and is besieged shall die by the famine. Thus will I spend My fury upon them. 13 Then you shall know that I am the LORD, when their slain are among their idols all around their altars, on every high hill, on all the mountaintops, under every green tree, and under every thick oak, wherever they offered sweet incense to all their idols. 14 So I will stretch out My hand against them and make the land desolate, yes, more desolate than the wilderness toward Diblah, in all their dwelling places. Then they shall know that I am the LORD.”‘”

12 And through the hands of the apostles many signs and wonders were done among the people. And they were all with one accord in Solomon’s Porch. 13 Yet none of the rest dared join them, but the people esteemed them highly. 14 And believers were increasingly added to the Lord, multitudes of both men and women, 15 so that they brought the sick out into the streets and laid them on beds and couches, that at least the shadow of Peter passing by might fall on some of them. 16 Also a multitude gathered from the surrounding cities to Jerusalem, bringing sick people and those who were tormented by unclean spirits, and they were all healed.

17 Then the high priest rose up, and all those who were with him (which is the sect of the Sadducees), and they were filled with indignation, 18 and laid their hands on the apostles and put them in the common prison. 19 But at night an angel of the Lord opened the prison doors and brought them out, and said, 20 “Go, stand in the temple and speak to the people all the words of this life.” 21 And when they heard that, they entered the temple early in the morning and taught. But the high priest and those with him came and called the council together, with all the elders of the children of Israel, and sent to the prison to have them brought.

1 Now the word of the LORD came to me, saying: 2 “Son of man, set your face toward the mountains of Israel, and prophesy against them, 3 and say, “O mountains of Israel, hear the word of the Lord GOD! Thus says the Lord GOD to the mountains, to the hills, to the ravines, and to the valleys: “Indeed I, even I, will bring a sword against you, and I will destroy your high places. 4 Then your altars shall be desolate, your incense altars shall be broken, and I will cast down your slain men before your idols. 5 And I will lay the corpses of the children of Israel before their idols, and I will scatter your bones all around your altars. 6 In all your dwelling places the cities shall be laid waste, and the high places shall be desolate, so that your altars may be laid waste and made desolate, your idols may be broken and made to cease, your incense altars may be cut down, and your works may be abolished. 7 The slain shall fall in your midst, and you shall know that I am the LORD.

8 “Yet I will leave a remnant, so that you may have some who escape the sword among the nations, when you are scattered through the countries. 9 Then those of you who escape will remember Me among the nations where they are carried captive, because I was crushed by their adulterous heart which has departed from Me, and by their eyes which play the harlot after their idols; they will loathe themselves for the evils which they committed in all their abominations. 10 And they shall know that I am the LORD; I have not said in vain that I would bring this calamity upon them.”

I’m so freaking tired of all this green talk. I can’t escape it, you can’t escape it, and it’s all becoming a little suffocating and a *lot* infuriating. Especially on TV. (If you’re one of those people who doesn’t watch TV because you’re better than the rest of us and like to feel superior, then carry on — you’re not as affected by this as I am, and yay for you. Yet another reason you can shout every chance you get about how you don’t watch TV. If you’re one of those who doesn’t watch TV because you don’t have time or don’t really care for it, I have no passive-aggressive opinion on your choice.) The green stuff we’re having to ingest daily with our TV shows, news, commercials, interwebz, billboards, signs next to the dam — it’s giving me green, grassy diarrhea.

What are we gonna do? Food color it blue? What does that even mean? Don’t litter? Only little punk retards litter anyway — the rest of us know that it’s bad, because you don’t just throw trash all over the place where you live. That’s where all your stuff is.

Aside: Damming rivers is unnatural, unless you’re a beaver. So stop lecturing on your religious signs about the greenery until you stop damming the natural flow of the river to suit your own needs and save your homes.

You know what my religious signs say?

Jesus loves you.

Know what they don’t say? “You must love Jesus. I command it.”

So last week was Earth Week. Remember when it used to be Earth Day? The creeping socialists and forced mediocrats have moved us so far away from reality that there’s now an Earth Week during which we are all commanded to worship Gaia and use only 100% biodiesel. Watch, within a few years, we’ll have Earth Month. Then Earth Quarter. Earth Christmas. No, wait — we can’t say Christmas anymore.

You know what would be better than all the lecturing and billboards? Leading by example (I’m looking at you, Goracle). If you really and truly believe that the earth is suffering because humans dare to live upon it, live like Leo DiCaprio. I actually have respect for him. However wrong I think he is about the effect that minimizing and living “green” actually has on anything at all, he doesn’t preach it — he lives it. He believes it, so he changed his lifestyle.

My friend Mensa doesn’t preach to me about being green — she went green a couple of years ago, and when she and I talked about how I have to eat fresh foods now because of celiac(ish) and how expensive it is to eat that way, she simply stated that yes, she and her household started buying organic and using natural cleaners “for other reasons” a couple of years ago, and she knows it is expensive. She didn’t tell me, “Yeah, it’s good that you have that celiac problem, because you need to be green anyway so you don’t singlehandedly cause the death of Mother Earth.” I know her well, and she has always been mildly into the environment (not rabidly like the Goracle and his religious friends), so I knew exactly what she was saying to me: “We went green because we believe it’s the right thing to do for the environment.” But the thing is, she didn’t preach it, or even say it, for that matter. She just acknowledged that she’s living that way. And hey, more power to her for that. Now, if she got all preachy about it, I’d roll my eyes and tell her she has bought into a steaming pile of green manure and that we’ll just have to agree to disagree on that one. Just like when we were in high school, and she was a Jehovah’s Witness, and I was a member of the church of Christ (she’s not anymore, I still am). We didn’t agree on a lot of things, but we had open discussions on religion, neither of us forcing the other to accept a point of view, and neither of us ridiculing what the other believed.

How much hot air is produced by all the preaching and chest-thumping about the baloney that is global “climate change” (I can be all preachy here, because this is where I vent my own hot air) and about how enlightened the people are who have jumped on the Church of Climatology’s front pew because it’s in vogue at the moment? More than you “save” when you’re spending more petroleum just to *produce* the ethanol you’ve embraced as your corny god than you are to produce a gallon of gas.

When I walk into the Co-Op here, I always want to wear a sign on my forehead that says, “NO! I’m not buying organic because I’m like you hippies! I have health problems!” Organic coconut oil or not, I won’t be the girl buying up all the “Blue Girl Red State” stickers a the membership counter. Blerg. That’s why I like to drive Frank’s car to the Co-Op — there is no NRA sticker on mine, and I feel like I need to hold on to some semblance of reality when I get around so many hippies at once. But I don’t (wear the sign on the forehead). Because I’m not a pushy twit who needs to guilt others into being just like me so I can feel a superior sense of accomplishment.

All of that is not to say that I don’t think we need to reduce waste and pwn every kid we see throwing a candy wrapper out of his car window. No, really — in 2008, I actually saw that the other day. This little punk was sitting in his car in front of me at the intersection, banging his head to heavy metal, paying very little attention to anything besides how totally, like, awesome he looked shaking his head in the mirror. He was even air guitaring, I’m not lying — surely he thought he was totally killing on Guitar Hero at that moment. He held his arm straight out of the window (during a pause in his awesome head antics), looked with disdain upon the candy wrapper in his hand, and threw it down onto the pavement with such vigor and such a look of satisfaction on his face (I watched his snot-nosed facial expressions in his sideview mirror) that you would have thought he had just been made King of the Pavement. I wanted to throttle his little punk head. Just wail on him for awhile. If that weren’t enough, he reached down and scooped up all the crumbs off of his stomach, held them in his hand, stuck his arm straight out the window *again*, and dropped the crumbs on top of the discarded wrapper.

I, of course, was ranting and raving to Frank. I was yelling something like, “You’d better be glad he’s holding me back!”

Where was I? Oh yeah. There’s respect for one’s surroundings (and I am a bit of a nature freak, so believe me, I don’t want to trash the planet), and there’s religion. I don’t buy what the Church of Climatology is selling. And selling. And selling. And selling. And selling.

Enough already. Let me live in peace.

This is my favorite clip from that one week when NBC decided to pay homage to the green peacock:

I love the disdain on Adam Baldwin’s face. Praise Gaia for that.

1 But a certain man named Ananias, with Sapphira his wife, sold a possession. 2 And he kept back part of the proceeds, his wife also being aware of it, and brought a certain part and laid it at the apostles’ feet. 3 But Peter said, “Ananias, why has Satan filled your heart to lie to the Holy Spirit and keep back part of the price of the land for yourself? 4 While it remained, was it not your own? And after it was sold, was it not in your own control? Why have you conceived this thing in your heart? You have not lied to men but to God.”

5 Then Ananias, hearing these words, fell down and breathed his last. So great fear came upon all those who heard these things. 6 And the young men arose and wrapped him up, carried him out, and buried him.

7vNow it was about three hours later when his wife came in, not knowing what had happened. 8 And Peter answered her, “Tell me whether you sold the land for so much?” She said, “Yes, for so much.”

9 Then Peter said to her, “How is it that you have agreed together to test the Spirit of the Lord? Look, the feet of those who have buried your husband are at the door, and they will carry you out.” 10 Then immediately she fell down at his feet and breathed her last. And the young men came in and found her dead, and carrying her out, buried her by her husband. 11 So great fear came upon all the church and upon all who heard these things.

11 “‘Therefore, as I live,’ says the Lord GOD, ’surely, because you have defiled My sanctuary with all your detestable things and with all your abominations, therefore I will also diminish you; My eye will not spare, nor will I have any pity. 12 One-third of you shall die of the pestilence, and be consumed with famine in your midst; and one-third shall fall by the sword all around you; and I will scatter another third to all the winds, and I will draw out a sword after them.

13 ‘Thus shall My anger be spent, and I will cause My fury to rest upon them, and I will be avenged; and they shall know that I, the LORD, have spoken it in My zeal, when I have spent My fury upon them. 14 Moreover I will make you a waste and a reproach among the nations that are all around you, in the sight of all who pass by.

15 ‘So it shall be a reproach, a taunt, a lesson, and an astonishment to the nations that are all around you, when I execute judgments among you in anger and in fury and in furious rebukes. I, the LORD, have spoken. 16 When I send against them the terrible arrows of famine which shall be for destruction, which I will send to destroy you, I will increase the famine upon you and cut off your supply of bread. 17 So I will send against you famine and wild beasts, and they will bereave you. Pestilence and blood shall pass through you, and I will bring the sword against you. I, the LORD, have spoken.’”

Check it. I found this at HuffPo.

“Pain of Foreclosures Spreads to the Affluent” is the name of the NY Times article. Wait. Let’s stop right there. Last I heard, all of the foreclosures were because the evil mortgage people tricked the dumb poor people into taking mortgages they can’t afford to pay. Are you telling me that the rich people were “tricked” too? I’m guessing all of these rich folks feeling the heat from the mortgage companies — they’re all either trust fund babies or pro athletes, right? Because people smart enough to become affluent couldn’t ever be “tricked” into taking these mortgages.

I know it’s not possible that people knew what they were getting into when they signed their papers (because some people do actually read a piece of paper that is going to put them in debt for 10, 15, or 30 years), because the media tells me that the evil mortgage companies did it.

Let’s read the article together, shall we? We’re in Greenwich, Connecticut.

On Stanwich Road, for example, a house worth $2.6 million is close to going on the block. On Hettiefred Road, the owner of a 2,720-square-foot, four-bedroom colonial featuring a luxury kitchen, swimming pool and tennis court, has been threatened with foreclosure for months. Several dozen other owners in Greenwich have received foreclosure notices this year.

Oh. Oh. So we’re talking about a house that is “close” to going on the block and another that has been “threatened with foreclosure.” And people who have received foreclosure notices. All of that would suck, yes, but are the affluent of Greenwich really feeling the pain of foreclosure? I would think the pain of foreclosure is when you’re actually, um… foreclosed upon, and you have to move out quickly and have a hard time finding a place to stay because no one wants to rent to you when you just defaulted on your loan for whatever reason.

But there is a difference from most other communities. Auctioning off such homes is a far greater challenge here than elsewhere, as affluent but cash-squeezed owners often find ways to delay losing their homes, sometimes by coming up with just enough to make last-minute payments avoiding a final sale — for a while, anyway.

Come again? I thought the article was going to say that auctioning off such homes is a far greater challenge in Greenwich because the homes are outrageously expensive and people don’t want to pay so much for a house. But no. Auctions are a “greater challenge” there because people are able to make their payments. Oh noes!

Just ask John Thygerson, who parked his Jeep sport utility vehicle in front of the empty house on Hettiefred Road on the flawless spring day last Saturday.

As a foreclosure auctioneer, he was scheduled — for the third time since January — to sell the house. But the owner, a construction business owner who has fallen on hard times, made a last-minute mortgage payment and the foreclosure was postponed yet again.

Poor John Thygerson! Postponed yet again! Poor guy just wants to foreclose on a house on a flawless spring day, and the evil homeowner made a payment!

So Mr. Thygerson was there to shoo prospective buyers off the property, nod at inquisitive neighbors and stake out a new spot for a fourth set of foreclosure signs after the first three had been mysteriously torn down.

Here’s a clue to your mystery: The owner did it. Case solved. And poor guy, having to shoo off prospective buyers. Work is hard.

“We never had a case that had gone through three separate sales attempts,” he said, still dazed that the auction failed to take place. “Greenwich being Greenwich, foreclosures are a rare occurrence.”

And there you go. The pain of foreclosures is hitting the Greenwich affluent because… foreclosures are a rare occurrence. Those poor people in Greenwich who aren’t being foreclosed. I’d just go ahead and off myself if I were them, being able to make their mortgage payments and keep their homes and all.

Rare, perhaps, but not unheard-of, as the housing industry collapse starts to claim victims among the affluent. Personal traumas like business reversal, illness and divorce play a role. There’s no real pattern, with people as diverse as builders, restaurateurs and poker players at risk of losing their homes.

What? The evil mortgage company isn’t at fault? I don’t follow.

But even the most financially stressed of Greenwich homeowners have generally been able to ward off actually losing their homes.

Well, that’s just awful. People keeping their homes.

In the last 30 days, none of the three Greenwich properties listed for auction were actually sold.

Terrible, that.

In Greenwich, foreclosure filings were made against 100 homes last year, according to RealtyTrac. That translates into less than half of 1 percent of Greenwich’s 24,511 households, compared with a rate higher than 1 percent nationwide.

Note, that’s the number of filings, not the number of actual foreclosures. This article is doing such a great job of showing me how painful it is to not lose your house due to wealth.

By 2007, the Connecticut Economic Resources Center reported, the median household income had risen to $122,849, with many homeowners earning far more.

I’d hope they’re earning far more if they’re buying multi-million-dollar homes.

The tearing down of existing homes to make room for new ones has continued despite the mortgage crisis that began last summer. And while prices and sales volume are dropping, Greenwich is not suffering as badly as nearby towns.

Greenwich is growing and building and not suffering as badly as nearby towns? I’m sorry, I missed how this article is about what the title says?

Through April 23 this year, 160 co-ops, condos and single-family homes sold for $290,000 to $30 million. That compares with 240 sales, from $385,000 to $12 million, for the period in 2007, according to the Greenwich Multiple Listing Service.

Just curious, are you comparing apples to apples? Was the $30 million sale a 10,000 sq. ft. house while the $12 million house is only 4,000? You can’t just throw stats out without the important supporting information or they mean nothing.

Still, lawyers working on Greenwich’s early foreclosure cases predict that most will never reach the auction stage because their homeowners almost always have other options.

Did Harvey write this?

As for the four-bedroom colonial that just avoided going on the block, Zbigniew Skwarek, the 41-year-old owner, came up with his own money to postpone the auction. Court records show he stopped paying on his mortgage on Feb. 1, 2007. But three days before the scheduled auction, he said, he gave his lender a check for $50,000.

Mr. Skwarek may not live in one of Greenwich’s most coveted neighborhoods. But like many residents here, he owns other properties, including an apartment in Greenwich and a home in Florida, and he can tap into that equity.

Now, there’s your problem. The poor rich guy who *didn’t* lose his house even though he didn’t pay his mortgage for over a year owns another apartment nearby and a house in Florida? He couldn’t have sold something to make his payments? Maybe he just forgot that he had three mortgages and only remembered the other two. I’m crying for him, really.

“I don’t want to lose this house,” Mr. Skwarek said in a telephone interview.

Then make your payments. Sell something else. We can’t have it all, dude.

Mr. Skwarek rented out the house after he divorced his wife, Renata, in 2004, because, he said, it felt too big to live in alone. But last year, he said, his renters, John and Arline Josephberg, stopped paying their monthly rent of $10,000.

Oh, it’s the renters’ fault! Of course! And if it’s too big to live in alone, maybe you should sell it. Do you really not want to lose the house if you don’t even care to live in it?

But public records show that Mr. Skwarek had trouble paying his bills even before he rented out his home. Court documents show that he also owes construction and supply companies more than $200,000 for unpaid bills on his home.

Good grief. I don’t even think I can make it through the rest of the article. The title suggests we’re supposed to be sad, but all I’ve read is that people are keeping their houses and/or are deadbeats.

He has a felony conviction for not paying wages to his workers and a misdemeanor for issuing a bad check.

Who gave this guy a mortgage?

Vincent Scorese, who owns a house next door and also faces the risk of foreclosure, moved out and rented out his home after he went through a divorce. He said that as a builder he became overextended and found it difficult to make his mortgage payments on the five properties he owns in the area. So he has put them all up for sale.

Finally, someone with sense. He can’t afford his mortgages, so he’s selling his five houses.

Mr. Skwarek says he is eager to hold onto his home, especially because it represents the culmination of his longstanding immigrant dream. Mr. Skwarek said he grew up outside of Warsaw and studied construction in Germany, France and Britain.

And studying not paying his bills in America.

Mr. Skwarek has still not figured out how he will hold on to his home. He will try to rent it again, he said. If that doesn’t work, he plans to move in and rent out his apartment. He remains optimistic that foreclosure will never happen and that his lender will help him find a way to escape his financial trap.

“They want to work with people like me,” he said.

People who haven’t paid them even the price of a steak dinner in over a year.

Mr. Thygerson, the auctioneer, agrees that he may never get a chance to do his job.

I hope he doesn’t work on commission.

Here is an example of something that causes the wishful teeth-kicking:

Maureen Levitro, who was on a recent episode of the Dog Whisperer (which, incidentally, *did* make me cry like a baby) and is now helping her disabled friends whisper their own dogs, was attacked by a horrible peace protestor. That’s right, kids. He wants peace, so he attacks a girl in a wheelchair when her dad tells him to calm down. Makes sense. Read the Post article, you’ll want to punch a hippie to protest peace protesters. I would say more, but the rage is too much for the interwebz to handle.

32 Now the multitude of those who believed were of one heart and one soul; neither did anyone say that any of the things he possessed was his own, but they had all things in common. 33 And with great power the apostles gave witness to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus. And great grace was upon them all. 34 Nor was there anyone among them who lacked; for all who were possessors of lands or houses sold them, and brought the proceeds of the things that were sold, 35 and laid them at the apostles’ feet; and they distributed to each as anyone had need.

36 And Joses, who was also named Barnabas by the apostles (which is translated Son of Encouragement), a Levite of the country of Cyprus, 37 having land, sold it, and brought the money and laid it at the apostles’ feet.

The Stars begin round 2 of the playoffs tomorrow night (they beat Anaheim in round 1), and we could finally get a game! Versus, nationwide!

Only Versus is not available on Cable One in Boise.

BOOOOOOOO. We got the channel in Florida. I guess we moved too soon.