WONKAFONKA

Words….Witticisms…Whimsy…Whatever!

Thank you for calling the Facebook Help Desk

July 27, 2012

The scene: My car. Driving. Almost to my dad’s house.

Ring Ring! (Actually the Charlie Brown music – that’s my ringtone.) (Yes, I know it’s really called Linus & Lucy. I just wasn’t sure if you knew that.)

Look at phone, see who it is. It’s my friend Dimples (seriously, his dimples are ridiculous), who never, ever calls me, so this should be interesting.

W: “Hello?”

Dimples: “Hey, hi, how are you?”

W: “I’m fine. How are you? What’s up?”

Dimples: “Yeah, so, I need some help. Like a favor. If that’s ok. Are you sitting down?”

(mild alarm, especially because he’s not one to ask me for help with anything, especially anything that should require sitting to hear about, but also amusement and curiosity.)

W: “I’m driving. So I’m in a seated position. Do I need to pull over?”

Dimples: “No, no, this isn’t nearly as big a deal as I’m making it out to be. It’s just, I feel like you’re my friend who knows the most about Facebook. Is that a fair assumption?”

W: (possibly laughing) “Yes, that’s a fair statement.”

Dimples: “I did something, I don’t know what. I don’t what happened. But somehow I screwed something up and everything is squares. Like I can’t read anything, it’s all boxes. Like computer code.”

W: (likely laughing a little) “Ok, and it’s only doing this in Facebook, not in anything else?” (thinking perhaps a reboot is in order)

Dimples: “No, just in Facebook. And I don’t know how to fix it, or what I did. I think I was resting my hand on my mouse and I maybe right clicked and something popped up and kind of all in one I accidentally did something and I don’t know what. And it’s all squares. Like I can see a name, but then everything is just squares.”

W: (almost to Dad’s house) “Ok, it sounds like you changed the language, to something with a different character set. I’m not sure I can tell you how to do it over the phone…let me see if I can use Dad’s computer, otherwise I’ll have to cal you back in a little bit.”

(enter Dad’s house, find him at computer. Dimples, still on phone.)

W: (to Dad) “Hi! Are you in Facebook? Can I look at it for a minute?”

Dad: (moving back from computer, looking at me curiously) “Sure.”

(poke around page, find the language settings)

W: “Ok, on the home page, at the top, next to the word ‘home’…”

Dimples: “I can’t see the word home. All I can see is my name and a bunch of squares.” (mild tone of panic)

W: “Ok. Next to the squares do you see a little triangle like a drop-down menu?”

Dimples: “I just see squares. I see the triangle, but it’s next to a bunch of squares.”

W: (laughing) “Ok, click on the triangle and then pick Account Settings”.

Dimples: “I only see squares. Oh wait. I see (page for his band), then Advertise, then squares.”

W: “Ok, click the thing right below Advertise. Then Language will be the last thing in the list. Click edit off to the right.”

Dimples: “I only see squares.”

(By this point, pretty much every time he says “squares”, I’m laughing. Dad is laughing too, even though he has no idea who I’m talking to or what exactly we’re talking about.)

W: “There should be six things listed. Language is last.”

Dimples: “I can see my name. And my email address. And then squares.”

W: “Ok, keep going. Language is the last one.”

Dimples: “Ok. It’s the last one. Is English an option?”

W: “Yes, it should say English (US). OOH! You know what you should do is pick English (Pirate). That’s hilarious.”

(Dad is cracking up)

Dimples: “Let’s just start with regular English and see if it can work.”

W: “Ok, click save changes.”

Dimples: “Is that in the blue box? HEY! That’s it! You fixed it! I think I changed it to computer language or something. Hey, yeah, so what’s new? How are you?”

________________________________________________________________________________________
This is the beautiful thing about being the unofficial Facebook help desk instead of a doctor or lawyer or something – no consultant-client privilege. 😀

Category:

Friendship, Humor

I love the internet.

July 18, 2012

I totally didn’t get it at first, back in the day. Like, not at all. Ok, so you could look stuff up. Big whoop. I remember the very first time I got onilne. That awful screeching sound of the modem – ah, kids, remember dial-up? AOL telling me I’ve got mail. And the WORLD WIDE WEB. Oooooooh. What should I search for? How about…..Muppets! Yep, my very first internet search ever was “Muppets”. (This is probably a huge surprise for exactly none of you, if you are friends with me on Facebook. I probably average at least one Muppet-related post/week.)

Ok, so it’s 1994, I’m checking out this new internet thing, I look up “Muppets” and I find some random pictures of Kermit et al. Um. Not seeing the point of this. Why do I need to be able to find Muppet pictures at the drop of hat? (Duh, to post them on Facebook, which hadn’t been invented yet.) I was not getting it at all.

Slowly, over time, I caught on – like the rest of the world. Big time. I remember getting DSL and being able to quickly and easily look up movie times. Which again, wasn’t research to cure brain cancer, or, you know, something important, but at least I was starting to find practical applications.

Now I have FIOS and WIFI and a smartphone and an iPad and I am plugged the fuck in. Unplugging causes severe anxiety. And I’m still not using the internet to bring about world peace, but it has completely changed the landscape of my professional world, so it’s gone well beyond just fun and games and Muppets into the practical and everyday. Plus, you can look up song lyrics and movie quotes in the blink of an eye. Totally rad.

The other day, though I found myself in a momentary panic and the accessibility of reliable information in that same blink of the eye was just what I needed. It wasn’t an end of the world kind of panic, but I discovered that I had missed a birth control pill (FUCK), and I needed to know what to do. I have been on the pill for most of the last 20 years, and I can count on one finger the number of times this has happened before this week. I can be absent-minded and forgetful. I can forget to pick up dry cleaning for weeks. I forget where I’ve set my phone down in my own house on a daily basis. Hell, I can’t even get into a daily routine to take vitamins, even when taking other daily pills, like, say, the one we’re discussing. But I never, never miss my pill. Perhaps because I realize just how important is. And because I’ve been taking it for so long, and I’m so good about taking it, I routinely throw away the information that comes with it when I pick up the prescription. So even though I was pretty sure I knew what to do about the missed pill, I didn’t actually have official documentation.

God bless the internet.

“Sprintec missed pill” <enter>

(Yes, now you know which pill I’m on, don’t you feel closer to me?)

Poof!

Page after page of specific info, from the manufacturer, doctors, everyday users. All giving me the information I needed, in the blink of an eye.

Thank you, Internet, I needed that. 🙂

Take the pill as soon as you notice, by the way. Even if it means taking two at a time. If you only miss one, you should be ok. Please don’t ever, ever, ever make any decisions based on what I just said – it is totally not my fault if you get knocked up, ok? Google it for yourself, go to some official website to seek your family planning advice. The internet is there for you, too.

This should again come as no surprise, but I just found approximately eight million Muppet pictures I want to include in this post. I was so stupid in 1994; how could I not see the value in this?

I’m done now. Peace out.

Postscript? Update? One more thought, after the fact…..kind of cracking me up to have used the internet to bring birth control pills and the Muppets together into one semi-cohesive blog post. Hee hee.

Category:

Humor, Just W

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DVRrrgh

July 15, 2012

I need to stop recording movies on my DVR. I have a bad habit of filling it up with films I heard were good, maybe remember a review of from Entertainment Weekly, wanted to see but missed in the theater, used to own on DVD but lost in the Great War (AKA my divorce, which was actually pretty amicable, but it’s funnier to call it that) and I want to watch again, etc. My DVR is never less than 50% full and usually hovers closer to 70%. This causes me anxiety, because I also have a regular crop of TV shows set to record, and it’s not unusual for it (the DVR) to caution me that it’s going to max out.

Here’s the thing. I’m really good at recording movies. And terrible about watching them. Every few months I go through and delete some things that have been sitting the longest and clearly are never going to be watched. We just passed the one-year anniversary of the oldest recording parked there, “Man on Wire”, a jaw-dropping, fascinating Oscar-winning documentary – so says the DVR menu. I really want to see it. Apparently not enough to push play. Maybe I should watch it right now. It’s only 100 minutes long. I could totally stay awake for that. It’s one of seven movies hanging out. This morning there were nine. I was contemplating a nap this afternoon, and decided to watch a movie from my backlog instead. I picked “The Tourist”.

I had low expectations, even though it stars my boyfriend, Johnny Depp; I knew it wasn’t supposed to be particularly worthwhile. Also, I’m not really much of an Angelina Jolie fan. Sadly, my expectations were not low enough. It didn’t feel suspenseful. It didn’t feel like a fun caper. It just felt like a waste of time. The logical question is why did I record it in the first place, right? Um, did I mention Johnny Depp?

Unfortunately, I feel an irrational sense of failure if I don’t see a movie through to the end. It’s not as though I never turn away from one, but I feel like after I’ve invested a certain amount of time, I might as well find out what happens. The notable exception to this is “Napoleon Dynamite”. I tried. I really did. I wanted to know what the big deal was. But after 20 minutes or so, I decided life is too short, and I turned it off. Sadly, I did not have the same epiphany during “The Hangover”. I kept thinking it would have to get funny, since everyone in the entire world other than Sunshine and my dad think it’s the most hilarious thing since sliced bread. Wait. Sliced bread isn’t actually funny. I might’ve gotten that wrong. Regardless, watching “The Hangover” made me want to poke out my own eyes.

My low-key afternoon transitioned into a lazy evening. Ruby Dogwonkafonka and I were camped out on the couch, ready to watch another movie. This time we chose “Tiny Furniture”, a low-budget indie film about a recent college grad who returns home while she tries to figure out what to do with her life. I went to IMDB to get a little synopsis for y’all, and even IMDB can’t tell me if it was a comedy or a drama. Not that that’s a bad thing, most of my favorite movies are a mix of both. This, however, is not one of my new favorites. Mostly, I kept thinking about how much I wanted to punch each and every character. At some point something has to happen or someone has to be likable for me to, you know, enjoy it. Damn my obsessive need to watch till the end. Many people on Rotten Tomatoes seem to have enjoyed it, but I am not joining their ranks.

So I also have “Religulous” and “Capitalism: A Love Story” in the queue. Anybody want to talk me into or out of watching either of those?

PS, I wrote this last night but didn’t post it till now, so please pretend my todays and tonights and tenses and stuff make sense, k? Yeah, thanks. 🙂

Category:

Humor, Just W

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Powerless

July 5, 2012

Northeast Indiana was pummeled by a huge storm Friday afternoon. We’ve been having a drought (as have you, probably) and I love thunderstorms, so when the sky started darkening I was rooting for a doozy of a storm. Pounding rain, booming thunder, the works.

Note to self, don’t wish for big storms.

Our storm was such a doozy, it even has a name, one I’ve never heard of before, and I watch Storm Stories. It’s called a Derecho. 500 trees were toppled by the wind gusts, creating havoc and taking power lines down with them.

I was very fortunate. Only one small branch fell off my already dead tree. All around my neighborhood, trees and tree bits littered yards and streets. Even now, almost a week later, a downed tree tangled with wires is blocking the entrance to my street, not to mention someone’s house. Tree shrapnel is everywhere.

This tree is blocking the entrance to my street, with a tangle of wires.

When the storm started up, I was at my desk in my office, and the lights started flickering. Uh oh. Flickering, followed by off. Klondike was in town, but not at the house, so Ruby and his two dogs and I sat in the dark and watched the storm through the front door. I wasn’t concerned about the power being out; it’s happened a couple of times before, and is usually back on in a matter of hours. I had no idea about the magnitude of the Derecho. (Cue ominous music.)

I was one of 119,000 people in the region who lost power. Um, that’s a lot. It suddenly became painfully obvious that the electricity wouldn’t be back on anytime soon. Crap. Oh, and did I mention it’s been in the upper 90s for the last eon? Initial estimates were that power would be restored BY WEDNESDAY. And there was no way of knowing whose power would be restored first. We all felt so….powerless.

I like to think I’m a somewhat capable person, who has my shit mildly together. One of the quickest ways to prove me wrong is to take away my electricity.

Two people. Three dogs. Very difficult to invite that kind of entourage into someone’s home.

My dad lives in a magical house that never loses power (please don’t let me jinx him) even in the wake of a Derecho or the crippling ice storm of 2008, even when neighbors all around him have no power. It’s kind of amazing. And it’s my haven in times of need. Fortunately, he has a spare fridge, too. We spent a good chunk of time there over the weekend, running home to check on the dogs and to sweat. Oops, I mean sleep.

I took cold showers, followed immediately by breaking into a sweat from the simple act of getting dressed.

I went to get ice to put in the dogs’ water bowls, forgetting that my freezer was empty.

Every. Single. Time that I walked into the bathroom I flipped the light switch. Stunningly, it never worked. After about the third time, I started doing a little song & dance that looked a wee bit like me stomping my feet and shaking my fists, and sounded kind of like me screaming, “The goddamn light switch doesn’t DO anythinggggg!!!!!!!!!”

Neighbors across the alley and next door got generators. The noise was astonishing. It sounded like there was a running lawn mower in my house.

By Sunday evening I was hot and crabby and hot and whiny and hot and tired of not being able to live comfortably in my own home. I was at the end of my rope, and entering the work week as someone who works from home presented a whole new kind of mess. Klondike and his dogs went home, and I set up camp at Hotel Dad.

Through some wonderful fortune, a text from a neighbor late Monday afternoon informed me that my porch lights were ON! I was giddy with electricity. And felt so, so sorry for those who didn’t win the power-up lottery. Even as I write this (Wednesday night), I still have friends in the dark, with no a/c, and it was 100 degrees today. I can’t imagine how frustrated (and hot) they must feel.

It’s amazing, the things we take for granted, and how uncomfortable it is when our daily routines are turned upside down and modern conveniences are suddenly unplugged. But equally amazing were the kindness and generosity of those who were in a position to help. As I mention on a regular basis, I am a Facebook junkie. And while running down my iPhone battery keeping tabs on Facebookland, I saw invitation after invitation from people who had power: beds, freezer space, laundry. It was truly moving, and felt very genuine.

And now that it’s over (for me), I can appreciate the silver linings:

My refrigerator is GLEAMING. Before loading it back up, I scrubbed the hell out of it.
My basement freezer was defrosted for the first time in two+ years. And I finally threw away those leftover buns from the cookout in 2010.
I bonded with my friend and neighbor, Claire, who I really only knew through Facebook. She and her husband Ben kept me in the loop about the power situation after I fled to Hotel Dad. They were the ones who let me know when I could return home to a powered-up homestead. (Thanks, pals!)

That’s it, no more silver linings. Be real, those four days sucked. 😉

Of course, I recognize how easy my everyday life usually is, especially now that I can have perspective in the comfort of my air conditioned home. (I’m obsessed with a/c, aren’t I?) I’m so thankful that I had options, and for my family, friends and neighbors who checked in on me and made sure I wasn’t in need. While I prefer not to have to choose, I will take that kind of love and friendship over power any day. At the end of the day, even if the day was hot and I was crabby, I’m very, very lucky.

Klondike by a tree in my dad’s ‘hood.

The base of that same tree.

Miss Ruby, reveling in the cooler temps at Hotel Dad

Oh sweet Jesus….a completely unexpected, bizarro thunderstorm popped up at the end of the day today and wreaked more havoc. More trees down, people without power again. I now have “loaner mayo” in my fridge from a friend who had JUST finished restocking from the first power outage, and she’s without again. I feel for you people, truly. Holler if you need something.

Category:

Family, Friendship, Home

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It wasn’t a test, but we passed.

July 3, 2012

I started seeing someone a few months back. Astute readers might have picked up on it after this. (He’s kind of awesome.) We’re gonna call him Klondike, ok? So Klondike & I went on vacation recently, and it was the longest time we’d ever spent together. He lives in Indy (and I do not) so we see each other roughly every other weekend, which actually works out nicely for this independent chica. Anyway, we went on vacation. Aruba, nine days, just the two of us. That is a long-ass time for me to spend with ANYONE. I wasn’t anxious about it, but definitely was curious to see how it would be. And it was really, really good. He didn’t get on my nerves at all, which is kind of amazing. Although I wonder if anybody would get on my nerves if I had plenty of sleep every night and spent all day on the beach being decadent. I wonder if I could get a grant to fund a social experiment…oops, I digress.

We passed the non-test. We still dig each other. Even after he got exposed to my less-than-cheery travel self on the way home, when a seven-hour layover in Miami got extended by an additional five-hour delay. It wasn’t pretty, but he hung in there.

In fact, I think the likeiness part is what made the vacation so great. It certainly wasn’t the 5-star (HA!) all-inclusive resort telling us upon arrival that they were overbooked and were moving us to a Westin. (We politely declined.) It wasn’t the weirdly uncomfortable beach chairs that were too short even for not-remotely-tall me that made everything fab. It wasn’t the mediocre food at the resort. It wasn’t the high levels of noise in the pool/bar area that oozed into our room morning and night. It must have been the company. 🙂

I made some bloggy notes so you would know I was thinking about you. Consider this post the equivalent of the “wish you were here!” postcard I didn’t send. But look! I can make one now!

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Floating

Floating in the ocean is the most peaceful thing in the world. The water here is ridiculously buoyant. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. It’s impossible not to float. Even Klondike, who says he never floats, floats here.

For me it is effortless. I lie back in the water and my legs and feet rise and my entire being is supported by the ocean. Cradled. The water is calm unless something motorized zooms by, so I can drift without fear of a face full of saltwater. And I do. I see the sun and blue sky above me. I can hear muffled sounds, but mostly it’s those passing boats and jet skis, gentle humming that quickly dissipates. Usually when floating in a body of water it requires a tiny bit of work – some hand waving, or consciously lifting my legs to the surface, without which they’ll dangle below me. Not here. Everything rises to the surface. It’s like I’m lying down. Relaxed. Sometimes Klondike stands nearby and gently holds one of my feet, just as a reference point for me. It’s perfect. 🙂

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88 steps down and 88 steps up.

We took a killer jeep tour of the island, and one of the stops was at a natural pool. It was quite a trek down some rocky steps (88 of them), and then we had to navigate through a narrow, wet, slippery, rocky little path to get to the pool, and then to get into the pool you had to maneuver across some wet, slippery rocks and sort of slide into the water. This is not my skill set. I am a klutz. I walk into things. I trip over my own feet. So it was tempting to take some pictures and observe from afar. But I did it. I conquered my clumsiness, my klutziness, my insecurities, and I clambered (ha!) – ok – crawled – over the slippery rocks down to the edge of the pool and slid (deliberately) in. Kapow!

Klondike and I had been in the pool for a minute, maybe two, when he exclaimed, “That fish bit me!”

Uh huh.

A few minutes later, “Again! That goddamn fish bit me again!”

I might have been a tiny bit unsympathetic. I saw no fish. No tooth marks. No blood. No missing toe pieces. He got much more sympathy a few minutes later when he sliced his fingertip on a piece of coral.

Blood. Everywhere.

Ick. And I, who had brought every first aid ointment and pill in my medicine cabinet on the trip, had left everything, including bandaids, at the hotel. Oops.

Fortunately, he survived.

After paddling around in the pool for a bit I realized, oh crap, I had to get back OUT. Which involved scooting into a little “seat” in the rocks and pushing myself up out of the water. Which meant planting my hands squarely on “furry”, slimy, algae-covered rocks. Ew. Like, really, ew. But I did it. Shazam! And then I clambered (crawled) back over to the land side, to solid ground and no more slippery rocks.

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Lizards

I am obsessed with the lizards. We saw one the first day, a gigantic iguana, just hanging out, like it’s totally normal for iguanas to sit in the grass by the street. But we didn’t see any others that day, so it seemed like maybe it was an unusual thing.

The next day we saw one hanging out on some steps outside our hotel. I took a picture.

The next day, we saw bunches. Hanging out by the pool in the late morning. Then I discovered that was a daily thing. Breakfast, poolside, with lizards.

It doesn’t matter that we see them every day. I can’t stop being surprised by them. I have taken eight thousand pictures of them. And some video. I stop and stare. They bake in the sun on the rocks. They eat lettuce. They walk their funny lizard walk.

And then I wonder….when people from Aruba visit the US, do they obsess like this over squirrels?

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The end

The desk in the room is littered with shells and coral and souvenirs and books and earrings and snacks and water bottles and sand. There is sand pretty much everywhere in spite of our best efforts.

It’s time to go home. We are still having fun and haven’t tired of each other’s company, but we’re speaking freely about the ridiculously uncomfortable bed (rather than trying to pretend everything is PERFECT!!!!) and I miss my dog and my shampoo and being on Facebook for more than 90 seconds a day and Klondike said he’s feeling rested and ready to get back to work.

We have one more day, to sleep in and soak up sun and play in the ocean and get covered with sand. Tomorrow night we pack and schedule our early morning shuttle to the airport, and then Thursday bright and early we head back to reality. And we’re ready. 🙂

It wasn’t a test, but we passed.

Category:

Relationships, Travel

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My shameful confession

June 24, 2012

I’m about to tell you something shocking.

I made brownies from a box.

I’m not sure you understand how unusual this is.

I grew up in a house where everything was made from scratch. My mom has been known to make homemade green bean casserole, down to her own crispy onion things (which is good, but tastes nothing like the mushy goodness of Green Bean Casserole). I’ve known how to make my own brownies for as long as I can remember. And cookies. And cakes. I like to cook, but I’ve always loved baking. I don’t do anything fancy and presentation isn’t my strength, but I can make a kick-ass homemade brownie. I don’t know if people are intimidated by the baking process or what. But the recipe I love most is ridiculously simple and the results are chewy, fudgy goodness. I’ll share at the end.

So why did I make brownies from a box?

Desperation.

I was craving something dessert-like, but the house was devoid of most food, since I was getting ready for a vacation and I’d been eating things down. And I didn’t have some of the fundamental ingredients. But what I did have was a box of brownies. I’m not sure why. It’s possible I had a coupon. Regardless, desperate times call for desperate measures, and I had the quarter cup of water, quarter cup of oil and egg required, so brownies from a box it was.

I cannot deny that it’s faster and easier to stir three things into a heap of powder than it is to melt some butter and chocolate and stir in some sugar and flour. But the results are just not the same. It would suffice for that night. But the likelihood that I would actually finish the imposter brownies before they went stale (or I left for vacation) were pretty slim, because they’re just not that good – and ps, I didn’t. Neither did my dad, who inherited them a couple of days later when I left town. What can I say, we’re brownie snobs in my family. `:-)

The inferior box brownie

If you’ve never made your own brownies before, try this recipe. I SWEAR you can’t screw it up, and I promise it’ll be worth it.

Best Gooey Brownies, from the Junior League Centennial Cookbook

1 12-oz package semisweet chocolate chips
1 can sweetened condensed milk (not evaporated milk)
1/2 pound (2 sticks) plus 2 tablespoons butter
1 pound (2-1/4 cups) packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt (I use less)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Lightly spray a 13 x 9 x 2 inch baking pan. (If using a glass pan, bake at 325 degrees.)

In a large (LARGE) saucepan over low heat, melt the chocolate chips with the condensed milk and 2 tablespoons of butter while stirring slowly. Remove from the heat and cool slightly. Melt the remaining 1/2 pound of butter, stir in the sugar, and add to the chocolate mixture. Beat in the eggs one at a time. Stir in the vanilla, flour, and salt.

Turn the mixture into the prepared pan and bake for 30 to 35 minutes. Brownies will still be gooey in center. And delicious.

Category:

Food, Just W

Barky Anniversary!

June 4, 2012

See that lovely girl over there in my picture? ——->

The furry one? That’s Ruby.

She is the funniest little dog, overflowing with personality. And today is our anniversary. Two years ago, my friend Sue sent me yet another doggie personal ad. I had told her I might be ready to start looking for my next canine companion, and she had been relentlessly sending me doggie porn, but nothing had sparked my interest until I saw Ruby Tuesday. She was fluffy (one of my requirements) and totally smiling for the camera. I decided I should go take a look, so I rounded up my dad for a second opinion, and we headed off to the shelter.

She was sitting quietly in her kennel, watching, waiting. I asked if I could meet her, and she was a total doll. Smaller than I thought I was looking for, but cute as shit and super friendly. She had been abandoned at the shelter so they didn’t know much about her, but she appeared to have been well cared for. I was smitten.

“I want her.”

At the shelter

The nice people at the shelter explained that the people who had been there right before me wanted her, too. They have this kind of odd system where they make you call and leave a message the next morning to say if you really want to adopt. The people had to call by 10am if they wanted her. I could do the same thing, and be second in line. Great. I went home and tried not to get my hopes up. The next morning, I called and left a message indicating that I was still interested.

And I waited.

I thought I should hear within an hour or so if I was going to get her. An hour passed and my spirits started to sink. Of course the other people wanted her – why wouldn’t they?

When my phone rang a little after 11, I figured they were calling to let me know Ruby Tuesday had been adopted. Instead, they told me that the family ahead of me was planning on adopting both a dog and a cat, but when they found out someone else wanted Ru, they decided just to adopt the cat so I could have the sweet doggie. I almost started crying. We were meant to be.

“You can pick her up at 4.”

What ha?? That day? Going to see her was a total whim. I wasn’t prepared for a dog – no leash, collar, food, treats, bowls, toys! But no sweat, I had five hours.

I think we were both a little anxious when we made the drive home that afternoon. You never know what you’re getting into with a new dog. Hell, I didn’t even know conclusively if she was housebroken (she was). I let her sniff around the yard a little, then took her inside to give her the grand tour. She wasted no time making herself at home, immediately jumping on my bed with an expression on her face that said, “So obviously this is where I sleep. Would you like to join me?”

We spent the next several days settling into our new life together. I was concerned. I’d had a really special bond with Sylvia, my prior dog, and Ruby was so different from her; I wasn’t sure I was going to fall head over heels.

Silly self.

I am powerless to resist the fur babies.

Seriously. I am the cutest.

In no time at all she had me wrapped around her little paw. I can’t imagine not having my funny, snuggly, happy Ruby girl. There will be more Ruby stories another day. For today, happy anniversary, sweet baby dog. And to the neighbors….sorry about the sometimes excessive barking. 🙂

“Goddammit!”

Category:

Just W, Pets

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How you know you’ve found a good one

June 3, 2012

He brings you your favorite (and not locally available) cheese when he comes to visit. And he only got a glimpse of it once, for maybe 5 seconds, but he got the right one. And then he starts calling it Magic Cheese.
He tells one of your girlfriends that you’re the funniest person he knows.
He never complains about your dog being on the bed.
He drops in on one of your friends at work so they can meet. Wait. That sounds creepy. But it totally wasn’t, at all. She was the perfect person to do that to, and they both wanted to meet the other.
He makes your bed when you’re not looking, even though you never bother to make it yourself.
He loves your dog. And perhaps even more important, your dog loves him, and goes belly-up at his feet for a tummy rub.
He acknowledges that men are idiots. But doesn’t use it as an excuse for bad behavior.
He is interested in spending time with your friends and family.
His actions back up his words and vice versa.
He rubs your feet without being asked. A lot.
He thinks it’s funny when you crack jokes at inappropriate times…..like during sex.
He is a thoughtful gift giver. I don’t mean this in a materialistic sense. I mean he pays attention to what is meaningful and of interest to you and finds things that are special, will be appreciated, etc. Like Muppets DVDs.
He doesn’t hesitate to drop a well timed “Fuck you!” when you’ve been relentlessly flinging insults at his (poorly chosen) alma mater.
He lets you know easily and often that you are awesome.

Category:

Relationships

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Argh.

June 1, 2012

I have not had time to blog.

It’s stressing me out. I have a handful of blogs I read on a regular basis, and I haven’t been reading those, either. Because reading other people’s blogs makes me feel guilty about not having written anything in a while. Which is kind of ridiculous, because I do this for me, and no one knows better than I do that I’ve been insanely busy. And then I’ll have a free hour and I’ll think ok, I should write something, but by the time I’ve checked what’s happening on Facebook and looked at my email and whatever else, I’m too tired or it’s time for bed, and I feel guilty and the cycle continues. Gah. How long has it been, I don’t even know…. let’s go peek. Yes, I avoid my own blog because if I pretend it’s not sitting there languishing, waiting for my attention, it’s not really happening, right? May 10. Oh holy crap. That’s way too long. I’m sorry, blog. I promise I’ll be better. My goal when I started was to post about once a week, but I’ll settle for an average at the end of the year. It’s not even like I don’t have things I want to write about, because I do. Sigh. Stupid time, or lack thereof.

So tonight I’m shaking it off, letting go, moving forward, getting back into the swing of things. I’m still busy, but I recognize this is a priority for me, so I recommit to making time for the project. You’re my witnesses. 🙂

Wanna catch up a little? There are some random things floating in my head tonight I feel I should share. And by “should”, I mean “want to”, as I’m sure you’ll agree once you see how silly they are.

I had a big salad for dinner tonight with fresh blueberries. I love blueberries in salads. Love. You should try it. Seriously. Like right now. Go make a salad. I can wait.

(whistling…….)

(Are you back? Ok, good.)

I’m camped out on the couch tonight under three (THREE!) blankets because hello, it’s COLD. And I am stubborn and refuse to turn the heat back on, because hello, it’s JUNE. And I am, of course, watching “Say Yes to the Dress”, because it’s Friday and I can’t stop myself. How is it possible that there is someone named Lindsey on every episode? Sorry, friends named Lindsey, I’m not bashing your name at all, just had no idea it was so….prevalent.

I have not washed my hair in two days, and it is enormous. It also looks marvelous. Seriously. I would post a picture, but it’s only my hair that looks awesome, the rest of me looks like I’ve been camped out on the couch all night.

Tonight I was also browsing the web for pot brownie recipes. For a friend. Truly. And I found this great site that had an illustrated recipe. I don’t know why I’m so tickled by it; it’s just so thoughtfully done. Look how cute this is. Honest, not for me though.

Did I mention there are THREE NEW EPISODES of “Say Yes to the Dress” on tonight? It’s a banner night. And also, the three blankets have worked, so it’s time for ice cream. I’ll be back soon. I mean it. In the meantime, what’s new with you?

Category:

Blogging, Just W

My typewriter is cooler than your typewriter

May 10, 2012

A few months ago, a friend sent me a link to something she had seen on fab.com that she thought I would like: a vintage typewriter that had been painted in fun, funky colors.

the inspiration

She was right. I. Loved. It. Wanted it. But holy crap, it was something like $400. I make impulse purchases like nobody’s business, but they’re usually in the neighborhood of $30 max. I don’t really have four hundred clams to drop on an interesting knick-knack.

Light bulb. How hard could it be to make something like that? Step one, procure vintage typewriter. Step two, make it look awesome. Shut up, stop laughing. I know I’m not the most crafty or artistic person in the world. But I have friends who are, and surely one of them could tell me what kind of paint to use and maybe help me with the execution.

I mentioned the project to my friend Jon (who for some reason doesn’t get a fake name – probably because he only does good things and doesn’t need protection), one of the people who I thought might be able to make recommendations. First words out of his mouth: “I have a typewriter you can have.” I’m sorry, what? Who just happens to have a spare retro typewriter? Jon, that’s who. He sent a picture to see if it was to my liking, and it was perfect.

Before

Not long after that, before I had a chance to pick it up, he mentioned to me that he’d started painting it. Shut the front door! Once again, more than I bargained for, and not at all what I’d been expecting or angling for – I truly just wanted his artistic input. But knowing full well that it would turn out far better in his hands than in mine, I simply waited.

A few weeks ago I got a text that it was ready. WOOOOO, I couldn’t wait to see it!!!! And holy cats, it’s freakin’ awesome. He went to town, not just on the typewriter itself, but on the case, so much so that I have to display it in its entirety. (On my antique card catalog, in case you can’t tell.) Here, see for yourself, and envy me. 😉