Category Archives: cutie-head moments


my blog is experiencing all kinds of it. that’s because my house is experiencing less of it. i’m finally unpacking the rest of the boxes that have been sitting in my garage since i moved here two years ago. yeah, um, there are six or seven of the seventy-five boxes i brought (i’m not exaggerating — my stepdad counted them when he loaded them on the truck because he was baffled by the sheer volume of stuff i owned) still sitting in the garage. i’ve been making significant progress, though.

once the garage is cleaned up (so much trash went out today, and so many boxes have been going to my friend at church, and i have items i’m taking to the church building tonight for donation, and more for my friend, and so on), we’ll actually have room to organize the tool bench again. and the wall next to it. and i’ll be able to move Big Whitey (the big white cabinet) to the garage from the kitchen. and i’ll have room to set up a sawhorse and cut down plywood for the attic space (which is teeniny). then i can put all the attic stuff into the attic. after that, i can paint the garage, including the floor, and start on the inside of the house.

and eventually the outside of the house.

so you see. i am working hard at ignoring you.

oh, plus there is this stupid doctor i saw yesterday who decided he would rather have a peeing contest with me over who knows more about the gluten-free diet, him or me, than actually figure out why i’ve had chronic diarrhea for three years.

other than my neuro, i’m pretty much losing faith in doctors. so it looks like i’m going to schedule some time at the Mayo Clinic after all. because i want to make sure i’m doing the right thing. i want a positive diagnosis. i want the biopsy to make sure that i do have flat villi in my small intestine. if not, if i don’t actually have celiac disease — and wow, the improvement is remarkable, so it’s unlikely that i don’t — i want to know what i DO have so i can get better. i’m pretty sure it’s in my bowels, and i’d like a gastro to get on board with me who wants to figure out what’s causing everything. if i have celiac disease, i want a doctor to tell me that that’s all i have.

what’s it take to get a stinkin’ endoscopy and colonoscopy in this geriatric haven? they don’t have those in Florida? dadgum, just run some tests, ok?

there’s more to that.

anyway, i have to get back to neglecting y’all. :-) sorry.

my 24 and American Idol stuff is over at IMAO.

oh! oh! but i’ve started to injuring myself already with the house projects, so i’ll have that kind of blogging to do. i already bludgeoned my arm today pulling silk flowers out of a box. pulling flowers out of a box, i can injure myself. just you wait until i use the jigsaw. i’ll lose a limb, i tells ya.


See, I was just telling Bikermommy yesterday evening how the only people who throw the Dubya-2 remote and break stuff like the TV or stuff near the TV are people who don’t normally play video games and don’t get the concept that the controller isn’t an actual bowling ball…

And then it all went wrong. Rowdi was on her pillow in front of the TV. Frank and I were bowling our third game at my insistence, even though it’s way past our bedtime.

And Minerva, our jealous alpha kitty… just… had to jump up onto the ottoman right in front of my bowling arm.

First I hit Minerva with the Wii-mote. That surprised me, and I lost track of everything. The Wii-mote flew out of my hand, and the wrist strap, though around my wrist at the time, was hardly a second line of defense (the first line supposedly my reflexes – pshaw!).

The second victim of the Wii-mote/Sarah team was the TV. The 42-inch widescreen HDTV. Thank goodness I’m a mere weakling. I only dinged it, and a good fingernail rub took care of the evidence of my stupidity.

Third, the Wii-mote bounced off the TV and hit Rowdi. She was on her feet and tucking her stub up under herself within nanoseconds, sure that I was punishing her for some unknown crime relating to kitties. She looked at Minerva then at me, as if to say, “What? I was sleeping! I promise I didn’t do anything!” Poor puppy. Poor kitty. Both were staring at me wide-eyed.

Then there was Frank, who was asking what in the world just happened. “I hit the cat, then the TV, then the dog.”

Apologies abounded. And oh, the petting.

Ok, so I can see how, if a cat jumps up on an ottoman and gets in the way and surprises an unsuspecting bowler, people who normally wouldn’t do such a stupid thing could end up throwing a Wii-mote at the TV. I take back those things I said about people who do that.

it’s only two days into 2007

and i’ve already dated a check incorrectly. i hope the tax collector is able to figure out that i meant to pay him in 2007.

woopsie. i’m usually so diligent. :-)

shopping carts

At Walmart today, I tried to grab a cart when I was walking in. The cart wouldn’t budge. The front wheels would, but the back wheels wouldn’t. The thing was trying to flip itself over. So I finally raised my eyebrows at it and grabbed another one.

Apparently there was a gentleman watching the festivities, because as I walked in with my cooperative cart, he giggled and informed me with a somewhat Indian accent, “The emergency brake was on.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I, of course, recovered quickly and said, “I just thought it was possessed.” He laughed with me.

public service announcement

Paper Shredder Danger!

Did you know that the super duper awesome paper shredder is sharp even when it’s not on?

Uh huh, uh huh. And if you turn over the mechanism and decide to just flick of the little hangy-on shreds so you can get a totally cool new fresh start on the shredding, it gives your middle finger the most cruel deep cut and really surprises your stupid little brain. Especially if you are the lovely and talented SarahK.

Man, it’s like there’s razors all up in there.

check your pockets!

When I was but a wee tot, I instilled within myself the belief that washing dollar bills in your pants pockets is a high crime. Since such time, I have diligently been checking my pockets before washing clothes. This deep seated belief has me checking the pockets before they go into the sorter and again before they go into the washer. Oh, I may have a couple of twenties floating around in a jacket pocket for a while and discover them in elation a year later, but I won’t find a nickel in the dryer.

For once upon a time, I saw on the television that they had arrested a group of people for money laundering. *

* this is true.


Say that you were making chimichangas.
Say that you had just taken the sauce/rice mixture off the front burner.
And say that you had limited cabinet space, were doing several things at once, and moving things around.
Say that you took the plastic bag of tortillas out of the microwave and threw them down on the first available space that caught your eye.
Say that space happened to be the still-hot front burner.

How do you un-destroy that destroyed burner?

I cannot believe I don’t have an appropriate category for all of my cutie-head moments.