In Which I Am Home

I have wrapped up my obligations in the Strange Land and am safely back in the Promised Land.  As difficult as it was to say goodbye to my sister and most gorgeous niece, it is a relief to be home.

The drive home was quiet with a day spent with extended family in Arizona.  I shall perhaps write on this later.  Christmas was lovely.  Being home is just so peaceful.  As I blog this, I am lying in Muscle’s bed whilst he is on his computer listening to music and turning to talk to me about awesome movies that are coming out this next year.  Mixing with his music is the music from Daniel Craig’s (another brother) room.

I have been attempting to declutter my life whilst at home.  I went through my clothes and gave away at least half of them.  What is the use of keeping ill-fitting, and/or never-worn clothing?  Besides, the next Strange Land I shall reside in is extremely cheap when it comes to… well, anything.

My friends who know that I am back in town wish for me to do so many things with them… but it is so lovely and relaxing just to lie here and blog whilst drinking in the peacefulness that is my childhood home.

P.S.  The next Strange Land adventure begins in two weeks!  Keep your fingers crossed.

In Which I Discover a Tasteful End to My Day

I ran across this recipe last night and am quite stoked about making it. We are going to have it for a snack tonight with some toasty mugs of tea. Yum!

In Which I See an Almost Beat-Down

The Older Brother, BIL, and myself all went sledding yesterday in the mountains near here.  Oodles of fun, I tell you.  We sledded down awesome slopes and then we packed up and started back to town.

Just on the edge of town is a intensely popular hillside for sledding and it looked like so much fun (even though it was PACKED with people) that we stopped for just a few last good runs.

We only had two sleds, so after I went a few times, I perched myself on the BIL’s truck to watch the guys take the steep slope “just to see what it was like”.  As I watched, these other teens took it first, two of them flew down so fast that it made my head spin.  The third guy took the slope so much faster and his sled appeared to barely touch the ground for the first 200-300 yards.  As he got closer, he didn’t slow down very much at all, but whizzed straight towards the street.

Just then a wee boy, most likely about seven years of age, slid right into the teen’s path.  The boy’s mother ran over and began to drag him out of the way when…

BOOM!

The teen collided with her and her son, knocking them both to the ground.  At first I thought that she knew the teen because she ran over to him first and began yelling at him and looked like she was going to start slugging him.  But I thought maybe she was halfway joking because his face looked like it might be a joke, it was completely incredulous and his entire body was saying “please don’t slug me, haha”.

Then I began to figure out what she was saying: “F*** YOU!!!  F*** YOU!!  YOU COULD HAVE STEERED OR STOPPED!!  F*** YOU!!”  Over and over.  I quickly realized that they did not know each other, as the teen rolled over, jumped up, grabbed his sled and beat it.

I stared and blinked a few times as she then ran over to her son and held him as he cried.  She then began helping him to the street and towards where I guessed their car was parked.  I then noticed that the poor kid was limping, I started to hop out of the truck to go see if I could help when a man that I had noticed before (don’t think that, I noticed him because he looked and talked like Ed Harris and I thought it was funny) ran up, spoke to the woman for a moment and then picked up the little boy and carried him to their van.

I thought for a while that Ed Harris was the boy’s father, but after he helped the boy to the van, he shook hands with the woman and then walked back to the hill to finish sledding with his own boy.  Apparently, he didn’t know her at all but saw that she needed assistance and put his shoulder to the wheel without any hesitation.

What a man, Ed Harris, what a man.

In Which I Stalk a Stranger (Of Sorts)

Out running errands, Izzy and I agreed to stop by my sister’s school to print something up for her.  She (my sister) has cunningly discovered perhaps the only computer in all of her school that allows her to print documents for gratis.  Nice, eh?

So we parked and discovered that most of the doors to the building in question were locked.  How did we discover this?  We walked around the building and tried them all, of course.

After we made good our entrance, we walked up two flights of stairs and down a couple of hallways to find the magic classroom with the magic computer.  Locked.

Three doors into the room and all three were locked.

The older sister was not giving up, she (through the power of the cell phone) directed us down another hall to another door.  Also locked.  She sighed, “Grr, I thought The Pirate would be in and he could unlock it for you.”

She had me check another office down a hallway with a guy and two girls, all three of whom stared at us trooping past them twice following the directions of the phone person.  No luck at that office either.

Just when I thought we would have to give up I spied her, a short, petite little girl that I had met a month or two back.  She was one of the older sister’s friends.  I remembered her because she has completely given up shaving.  Legs.  Armpits.  You name it, she doesn’t shave it.  And there is no shame whatsoever, I met this girl when she was wearing shorts and a tank top.  Of course I inspected her to make certain the older sister was not lying.  She was not.

Anyway, meanwhile back at the ranch, I whispered into the phone, “Older sister, it’s her, the Non-Shaver.”  The older sister said, “OHH!  Catch her quick!  She can let you in!!”  We raced down the hall after her, she had turned a corner… and we turned to walk past those same three staring people over again.  We approached and were just about to make the killing when… she ducked into the women’s bathroom.

“Follow her!!”  The older sister said.  ”No!!  I am not chasing her into the bathroom!”  I hissed into the phone.  So we waited.  I still was not certain that this was even the girl, but we waited and when she (finally) came out, she looked straight at Izzy and myself and I could not say a word.  I let her walk past.  She walked down the hall and disappeared around the corner again.  I found my courage (it was down in my boots) and rushed after her – all this is occurring right in front of the three staring people in the hall who, in accordance with their name, kept right on staring with amused expressions on their faces.

We searched that hallway and the next for Non-Shaver and finally found her in a side room of a room with an open doorway.  She looked up with a puzzled expression on her face when I said her name.  I introduced myself and Izzy and explained what was going on, she laughed and quickly led us to the magic room with the magic computer and unlocked the door for us.

The older sister said later that she and Non-Shaver laughed very hard over the entire affair when she learned of our stalking her around the second floor.  I guess it could be funny.

In Which I Hear a Noise in the Night

I am an admittedly sound sleeper once I finally get around to crawling into my bed and so it was all the more startling when I was jerked awake last night by a loud noise near my bed.

I sat up and tried to place the noise in my mind.  My door was shut in order to keep the old dog from padding noisily in and breathing heavily over my body – so slamming door was out.  No one could have entered the room, the noise wasn’t right.

Suddenly, I placed it.  The noise was that of a trap snapping shut.

I should here inform you that my sister’s house is plagued by the occasional mouse, much in the way that houses in my homeland are plagued by the occasional roach or ant.  Either way it’s nasty.

So yes, the sound was identified (much to my horror) as a mouse getting his (or her) neck snapped.  Lovely.

I lay awake staring into the darkness in the general direction of the ceiling trying to decide if I needed to switch the light on.  I debated with myself for about two minutes and then the thought crossed my mind… what if there were more?  What if mice didn’t just travel in ones, but in twos, threes, fours, and fives?!  Oh the horror!  I sat up, switched the light on and carefully examined the room from my bed.

Body in trap by closet.  Check.

Empty traps in various other places.  Check.

No sign of other mice.  Check.

I sighed, turned the light off, and lay down to try to sleep.  This was not easy for me because I am one of those people that once I have thought of something like mice invading my room the thought does not leave me and my mind starts creating phantom sounds and shadows to accompany the thought.

I kept jerking awake the rest of the night, about once every hour to lie in bed and listen for sounds, half of the time I convinced myself that it was nothing and the other half of the time, I had to sit up, switch on the light and search the room (with my eyes) for any other little mouse bodies besides the one near the closet.

The next morning, I informed my sister of what had happened, she offered to dispose of the mouse for me, but we both forgot until after she left.  Not wanting my room to start smelling like a rotten meat factory, I myself donned a pair of rubber gloves and carefully carted the mouse outside where I dumped it on the other side of the fence.  All without touching the actual carcass of said mouse.  I did feel a bit sorry for the little guy, I mean, having your neck snapped by a merciless little wire can’t be the most pleasant way to go.

Then again, how pleasant can we make killing mice?

Once the body was gone, I once again set the trap in the same spot.  As much as I abhor dead mice in my room, live mice are much much worse.

In Which I Applaud Another Blog Post

Growing up, my parents always made certain that I wrote (no matter how short or childish) thank you notes for every gift that I received – from Christmas tree ornaments to gifts of cash to simply gifts of time – every one of these would receive a carefully written thank you from me.

As I grew older, my parents ceased to pressure and remind me to do these little things, but it is something I still find important and a huge part of proper decorum.  Recently, catching up on one of my favorite blogs (which I have not read for quite some time due to being without a computer – see previous entry), I came across this entry on practicing gratitude and it perfectly illustrates my own feelings on the matter.  It reminded me again of my own childhood and the lessons therein which is always a good thing of which to be reminded, at least in my mind.

In Which I Run a Rabbit Trail

My adorable little netbook died on my this week, since it has not yet been 14 days since I purchased it I returned to its place of origin to exchange one dead netbook for one live netbook.

As I stood in line, I tried to guess which customer service rep I would be lucky enough to draw: Round Redhead or Blonde Barbie when suddenly from the back room issued forth the guy that had assisted me when I picked up the computer. I had been counting on getting the Round Redhead (she appeared the most competent), but with a sinking feeling in my heart, I suddenly knew that I would get the guy. Don’t get me wrong, there was no denying his obvious hotness (muscular + tasteful tattoos + lovely eyes) but it was a little weird to get the exact same guy again for the exact same computer plus, the Round Redhead was fast and efficiant.

This was soon taken off my mind by the guy behind me. He walked up and stood behind me, not as if he knew me as a friend, but as if we were quite intimate lovers. Awkward? Yes. I inched forward to prevent him from smelling my hair (don’t worry, it was fresh and henna flavored, I just didn’t want some weirdo sniffing at it). He started up a phone conversation and like any well-trained sharp mind, I listened in to the conversation.

He was livid. Absolutely livid. Apparently, the computer that was on sale last week for $450 was now on sale this week for $650 with a bonus monitor, keyboard, printer and mouse (which he kept referring to as “all that other crap”). He just could not believe that the establishment we were in would actually only have a sale for one week and not the next! He was practically spitting he was so mad. He repeated the story about four times as we moved forward in the line – all to the same person on the other end of the phone. I was a little shocked at this point and was also concerned because he sounded like exactly the sort of person that would pull a gun on his customer service rep (which in a movie would end up being the Blonde Barbie) and declare that he was going to start shooting people until he got his way. At this point, I decided that I should turn and look at him. I mean, chances are that he was just a normal looking guy who was a little ticked off, right?

Wrong!

I casually turned and looked, the guy was dressed entirely in black with dyed black hair and a distastful amount of piercings.

It was at this point that I began to plan how best to take down the guy once he pulled the gun.

And just then I stepped forward so that I was two people from the front of the line. Nice. Hott guy had just finished with his customer, Blonde Barbie was wrapping up and Round Redhead was actually being a little slow.

Then it happened.

NO. Don’t worry, the guy behind me didn’t pull a gun, instead, Hott Guy bent over the receipt from the departing customer and began scribbling something instead of calling the next person in line. I froze. Blonde Barbie and Round Redhead both finished their customers at the same time and called over the two men in front of me. Crap. Hott Guy looked up and smiled at me, “Next?”

I walked over and explained my problem to him. “Ahh, sorry about that.” He said whilst furiously typing into his computer. He checked out the computer, “Wow! It’s really small.” He said, obviously surprised. I smiled, “Yes, I love it and am really bummed that it isn’t working anymore.” He tapped on his computer a bit more and then asked for my receipt. “I gave you the one that I got when I picked up the computer, do you mean this one?” I asked handing him the email I had received. He looked at it, obviously puzzled. “Um, no I mean the one that you got when you purchased the computer. You should have another receipt.” I looked at him, “That’s all I have, that first one is the only one that I got when I picked up the computer. Actually YOU helped me then so it’s your fault if I don’t have the right receipt.” I grinned so that he would know that I was joking. He looked startled for a second and then realized that I was joking. He laughed, “I’m sorry about that… wait, you bought it online?” I nodded. “Oh, yes, then this is all that you should have. Nevermind, I was confused.” He tapped away at his computer a bit more and then took the computer and set it behind the counter.

Tapped away at the computer for a while and then said, “Ehh, it’s not working here, do you mind following me up to the front?” I said that was fine and began following him to the front of the store. Halfway there, he suddenly turned to me, “Where is the computer?” He asked. I stared at him, completely blank. I could not remember what I had done with the computer. We stared at each other for a while and then I said, “Wait. You took it from me already.” He laughed suddenly and said, “I completely forgot about that.” We continued on our way. At the front, he tried two check-outs and neither would work for him. He finally called a manager over and she told him how to do what needed to be done, but that it would have to be done at Customer Service.

As we walked back over to Customer Service he said, “Gosh. I am so sorry about this, Dame.” I should mention at this point that once he learned my name (I had to spell it for him to type into the computer) he kept calling me by it and apologizing the entire way through using my name. It threw me every time because I had to think about how the heck he knew my name!

Anyway, I laughed and said it was okay. He said, “No, I really am sorry about this, you are definitely getting your exercise!” I laughed again and said, “Haha, I may even be able to skip out on my workout tonight.” See what I did there? I subtly let him know that not only did I appear active and healthy, but I also WAS actually active and healthy. Sneaky and intelligent, I know.

Back at the original computer, Hott Guy still couldn’t get things running. Again he apologized and we moved to the other side of Customer Service, a mere ten steps for him, but quite a ways for me as I had to walk all the way around displays and the huge round counter.

Finally, everything was in place and I swiped the Magic Card (otherwise known as “Discover”), thanked him for his help and wandered off.

Apparently my computer will be in on Friday and I should go pick it up. Who wants to lay down money that I’m going to draw Hott Guy to help me again?

In Which I am Thankful

So we spent Thanksgiving at the BIL’s blaggard boss’s house.  Interesting, to say the least.  I made the most glorious pumpkin pie with a delicious pecan crust and we also brought salad and green bean casserole.

Upon arriving at The House of Doom, we discovered (much to my dismay) that none of the other guests had arrived yet.  Sadly, the Blaggard family was not as welcoming as I like to imagine my family and it was no small amount of awkward when we were all settled with our drinks.  I immediately scrutinized the Blaggard Boss to see if I could discern any signs of blaggardness about him.  I could not.

He appeared to be a nice enough older man, a bit on the rough side, but what does one expect from a man that has worked with animals most of his adult life (I know, I pity him too)?  Mrs. Blaggard was very sweet and quiet, his two daughters, Stick 1 and Stick 2 (much like Thing 1 and Thing 2), were, well, sticks.  Stick 1 had a baby who looked exactly like a doll with goldfish eyes.  I didn’t offer to hold her because I was afraid if I squeezed her too tightly then her eyes would pop right out of her head.  This did not stop me from watching her carefully to see if this really did occur.  It did not.  I think this is a good thing.

Thankfully, M.J. (the sweet girl who goes on walks with us), B.C. (her roommate), and Patrick (her “friend”, “boyfriend”, or “that boy” depending on who she is speaking with) quickly arrived after us bearing much more food.  Food is important on Thanksgiving, naturally.

The house quickly filled up after that with G.F. (G.F. = Grandfather because that is what he reminds me of), and Stick 1′s boyfriend Twig, a rather scary looking chap, actually, and father of Goldfish Eyes.  Yes, filled up, the Blaggard house is a small house.  Mr. Blaggard invited people to start eating, but no one made a move.  I waited until the second time (to be polite) and then jumped up and announced that I was beginning the food line and it was everyone’s own fault if I didn’t leave the choice bits for them.  I am not shy about food, I love it too much to deny my obvious desire and need for it.

I made a perfect plate with the perfect ratios of everything except for gravy.  My modus operandi is to dish up everything and then surround it all with gravy, basically a plate of gravy with islands of food, but the gravy boat was a wee little thing and I felt bad using so much so my mashed potatoes, turkey, and stuffing each received about fifteen drops – this as you know is nowhere near enough gravy to properly consume food.  Alas.

I sat down with my plate of food and began waiting for everyone else to get their food and the prayer to be said as is the custom in my land.  Apparently, I am now among barbarians and the heathen as the two guys behind me in line so aptly pointed out by sitting down and beginning to scarf their food without so much as a glance around them.  Surprised, I still held off until the BIL came in with his food and said, “Uhhh, you should eat your food before it gets cold, Dame.”

At least my food was blessed, albeit silently.  Choke on that, barbarian heathens!

Whilst consuming my food, I watched the people around me.  Patrick, M.J.’s boyfriend, was definitely the most entertaining in a sort of loud way.  He reminded me of a teen boy who is still in that awkward post-pubescent stage and has taken quite the enormous amount of sugar but feels that he has something that he should, nay that he MUST add to the present conversation in a hungry, desperate, “look at me” sort of way.  Quite entertaining, needless to say.  Though, listening to him describe his iphone applications did get a little old very quickly.

The second most entertaining person there was Mr. Blaggard.  He was sitting with his granddaughter (though God help you if you referred to her as his granddaughter, a bit touchy about age, I gathered) and trying to teach her words but obviously more for the sake of everyone else in the room than for his granddaughter’s benefit.

Where was Stick 1 through all of this?  Outside having a smoke with her baby’s daddy Twig.  Yes.  No lie.

By the way, Stick 1, it’s called contraception and from what I hear it’s really cheap.  Know what’s cheaper?  Abstinence.

Dinner moved along quickly with the help of rapid shovelfuls towards the mouth (myself excluded) and then it was time for dessert.  So naturally everyone just sat there and stared at each other.

I was first in line.  Like I said before, I have no qualms about strapping on the feedbag.

The eats were tip-top and there was more conversation but my poor niece was so very tired that she was fussy and I decided to hold her for a bit so that my sister could eat therefore I did not hear much more of what was being said until I handed the niece off and began on the dishes.  M.J. helped with the dishes and Mrs. Blaggard put away the food into containers for everyone to take home with them.  Mrs. Blaggard was extremely nice and so very thankful for our help.

After the dishes were put away, we stood around and talked.  BIL was making dividing up the pies much more difficult than it needed to be and I remarked on this to Mr. Blaggard who was looking on with a bored expression on his face.  He laughed and said that’s what usually happened on when so many people got together.

In all, Mr. Blaggard did not seem like a mean fellow.  He was actually quite nice and witty, so I don’t understand why BIL and he don’t get along.  Though, I did notice that they are quite similar and that might grate on each of them somewhat.  Also, even though the BIL doesn’t mean to be pretentious, he comes across that way sometimes so this probably also contributes to the problem.

Anyway, the entire affair made me quite homesick.  I missed praying over our meal, I missed eating at an actual table, I missed joking around with my family, I missed our cheesy rituals, I missed washing up a dozen dishwasher loads of dishes, and I missed just being with people with whom I am comfortable.  I also am getting very tired of being in a room full of people who are ignoring me.  I’m sorry that you have no room in your pathetic little lives for someone as exciting as myself, but suck it up and be polite!

So this Thanksgiving I am extremely thankful for the Thanksgivings past, for my awesome, amazing family and friends, and for the prayers that my father (who says the best prayers over meals, sometimes I feel that a meal isn’t truly blessed unless The Father says the prayer) says over every Thanksgiving meal.

In Which I Discover Something Awesome

Dear world,

Please try this:

Add 3 tablespoons of rum to any pumpkin pie recipe in place of vanilla extract.

If making fresh whipped cream (which you should) add 2 tablespoons of rum to the whipped cream in place of vanilla extract.

Result: the best pumpkin pie and fresh whipped cream in the world.

Love,

The Dame

In Which I Receive a Wine Recommendation

After my game at Wal-Mart (see previous entry) I decided that it was time to move on to better things, such as purchasing origami paper and wine at the local grocery store chain.  I don’t really understand what it is about large stores here, but their cell phone coverage stinks.  In this store one has to hang around the produce and beer or they lose service faster than you can scream after whacking your finger with a hammer.

One of my dear friends (DF) had called me just as I was parking and I hadn’t spoken to her in quite a while therefore it was not one of those conversations that you can just interrupt to say “Well, I have to grab some origami paper and wine… so let me call you back.”  Not to mention that it is one of those conversations that is more like a monologue with no place to fit the above sentence in edgewise.  Therefore, I chose the produce section and pretended to be interested in mushrooms whilst DF prattled away about school, life, etc.

I’m certain that the following has happened to each and every one of you:  You are standing there thinking of other things and staring into the distance when suddenly, you realize that the distance is staring back at you.  BAM!  Reality hits and you realize that you have been staring at a person for a very long time and now they are aware of it.

This is exactly what happened.  I stared, the distance stared, and then the distance turned into a really hot guy with an avocado in his hand looking at me with a questioning expression on his face.

Flustered, I turned in the opposite direction as nonchalantly as possible and began to examine the heads of lettuce instead.  As DF talked, she lulled me back into a distant stare.  Once again, after a few moments, I became aware of the distance staring back at me, once again the distance abruptly turned into the same really hot guy this time standing in front of the carrots but with the same expression on his face.  This time I think he realized what was happening because he grinned at me as I quickly ended my phone conversation and raced off to the wine aisle.

In the wine aisle, I was searching for the exact brand of Malbec that The Older Sister had bought a few weeks ago when I heard a voice behind me.  I turned to look and there was a heavy-set lady with silvery grey hair who was asking me if I had ever tried a certain pinot grigio that she was holding out to me.  I told her that I had not and she giggled, “This is simply the best wine I have ever had!  And it is so cheap!”  She stared at me, wide-eyed and I am certain that I was mirroring her expression perfectly.

I cleared my throat, “Well, I do like the bottle a lot, it is very pretty.”  ”Isn’t it?”  she giggled again.  ”I tell you!  I go to Lisa’s to get my hair cut and we pull out the wine and then after a while she says ‘are you sure you want your hair cut?’ and I just don’t care at that point!”  She pointed to the bottle’s label, “Pee-not Greeg-oh.  Is that how you say it?”  I smiled, “Well, I think it’s actually said ‘pee-noh gree-gee-oh’ but I’m certain it doesn’t matter.”

She raved about the wine for a few more moments and then handed me a bottle and picked up another bottle for herself.  She pointed down the aisle at two other women looking at wine, “Do you think that they have ever had this wine?”  She asked me.  ”Mmm, probably not.”  I said.  She looked at me with serious eyes, “I should probably tell them about it, right?”  ”Why yes!  I really think that you should!”  I said.  She picked up two more bottles of the wine for her cart and then raced off down the aisle where I heard her say, “Have you ever tried this wine before?”  And then a few moments later, “And look at the very pretty bottle!”

I grinned to myself, placed her wine back on the shelf, picked up the Malbec (which was right next to the wine she recommended) and headed off to find the origami paper.

I couldn’t stop smiling the rest of my time in the store.  What a lady.