A bunch of these appeared in the yard this week:
I went around them with the lawn mower yesterday because there’s so little color in our yard (the house was built in 1932 how can there be no bulbs?!). Turns out they are weeds.
It’s OK that they are weeds. I may actually move them into a bed. I also spared some hyacinth that evidently originated in our neighbor’s back yard. They look terrible where they are now–like most escapees. I’ll be moving them for sure.
This morning I woke up feeling like someone had punched me in the jaw. It’s still sore. I’m wondering which of the three beings in this house did it. Probably Simon since he likes to stand on you and make small paw-sized bruises on various fleshy parts. I’m not sure how he could have stood on my face, but I’m blaming him until a better option comes along.
On Tuesday night, we went with a friend to see Amos Lee and Mutlu. I barely knew who Amos Lee was and Mutlu was a complete mystery. Turns out they are both amazing. We had a thoroughly good time except for the drunk bastards who were either sitting in the row with us and made us get up 57 times so they could pee and consume more alcohol or they were in front of us yucking it up over booze. My friend was ready to start stabbing people with the end of her umbrella.
It’s not that I don’t like to consume alcohol, but for crying out loud it was a Tuesday night and you don’t really need 14 beers to have a good time at a concert. As we were walking back to the car we said the music isn’t too loud yet, but we are old. Damn kids get off my lawn.
I finally replaced my work-in-the-yard shoes. They were an ancient pair of Reeboks (are those made anymore?) and not only had the rubber and plastic worn out, but they had also stiffened up so that my feet were seriously uncomfortable every time I wore them. Now I have a pair of KangaROOS (electrically purple). The shoelaces are about 40 feet long so clearly these shoes are meant for stylin’ and profilin’ but they were on sale and who can resist a shoe straight outta the 90s?
I also picked up a pair of Rocket Dog shoes that are a wacka-doodle paisley. I’m digging on these and now the Converse can go in the trash. Those things were seriously torn up inside and hurt various spots on my feet. I’m hard on shoes mostly because I wear them until they fall apart.
Amos Lee and his band killed this:
Mutlu cracked us up (but he can also really sing and writes some great tunes):
Tonight we had dinner at a divey sandwich shop that we used to go to a lot when the better-half worked on the U of R campus (the hot peppers cleared up my clogged head–hallelujah). Then we headed over to the campus to catch the Shawn Colvin and Steve Earle show.
Shawn performed this and I am pretty sure, aside from the better-half, we were the only ones in our little section of seats who were thrilled:
I’m still having a hard time figuring out the dynamic of the crowd. I was seated next to Debby Downer, but she seemed to know the really enthused people behind us. There were a few people who were very familiar with Shawn’s songs and more who were familiar with Steve’s.
Steve told a story about his lost years and one of the points of light was knowing that Shawn had recorded one of his songs. They performed this song tonight and it was touching:
The better-half and I are celebrating our 18th anniversary tomorrow. It doesn’t feel a day over 17.5.
This afternoon we bought this amazing stuff:
We joked about getting each other cinder blocks to celebrate the nuptials.
It doesn’t look like much right now but in a month it will be great. What you are looking at is our raised bed for gardening.
Ever have one of those weekends that ends up being busier than you thought it would be? Yeah, I know. All the time.
Yesterday was amazing as far as the weather is concerned. We were outside for most of the afternoon smoking bacon. The last thing on our long list of chores this weekend is to slice and freeze the bacon.
This morning we walked down to our neighborhood green grocer and picked up a few things to round out our corned beef feast tonight. While we were there we signed up for the veggie box. Starting this week and running for the next twelve weeks, we’ll pick up a box of fruits and vegetables. The grocer sends a reminder email and recipes the day before so we will have some idea of what’s going to be in the box. We’re really excited about this.
The trip to the regular grocery store was straight out of every cliche of The Impending Storm of Doom movie! (Wouldn’t that be a great movie? SyFy needs to get on that.) Seriously, folks, I know we’re supposed to get snow, sleet and who knows what the heck else tomorrow, but that is no excuse to block every single aisle. Get your stuff off the shelf and make a hole. I’m coming through.
The box included:
Know how I was worried about a co-worker treading on thin ice? She is being ridden hard now to meet deadlines. We’ll see if she can do it.
Here’s something I’ve noticed about her. She doesn’t say thank you to peers. That’s really awful. On Friday, I saved her lame ass from starting a training webinar late. That is not something you do especially when we were at capacity and people had been pouring into the virtual space for over 30 minutes. I started the session and I ran the slides so the participants had no idea that we were experiencing any sort of difficulty.
Then I spent half of Monday editing the recording to remove all signs of her ineptitude. The recording that will be posted tomorrow is very different than the session I originally heard on Friday. I’m positive that I’ll never hear anything about it. Ever. Heck, I was the one thanking our experts who had joined us to answer participant questions. She was going to let them walk out of the room without saying anything. Whatever.
It is March 3rd and I’m off from work because we started with sleet and ended up with a few inches of snow. I’ve worked at my place of employment for about a year and all I’ve heard in that time is “we don’t close”. Well, apparently, we do.
The snow has tapered off so we cleaned our sidewalks and my car. I think the better-half is scraping his truck. I think he really just wants to be outside in the cold and wind because he is part polar bear. I’m content to warm myself and hunker down on the couch with a cat or two, a book and a blanket. Perhaps it is time for some hot chocolate.
At work, the department’s org chart lists three positions just like mine. I’m the only one in the position now. This means I’m really busy and, in all honesty, its OK with me. I’m learning a lot and kicking work out the door.
But, and there’s always a but, isn’t there? There is someone on the team that just can’t get the hang of what in the heck she’s supposed to do and how I can help/do the tough technical stuff. Seriously, if someone is really good at something and it takes them zero time to do it, then why not work with them? Why not make it easier on yourself? We’re at a point where this person is seriously impacting the rest of the team. Our boss is being driven crazy. I’m not getting enough notice to take care of things and so I have to run around even faster than usual to pry a spot into my jammed-up schedule to take care of this person’s stuff. A new hire is shadowing the having-a-hard-time person and that is not a good way to start off.
It’s to a point where I wonder if the hard-time person is a)on some sort of medication, b)sustained a head injury in the past couple of years, or c)is about to be fired. A, B, and C are not meant to be funny. There is something seriously weird and wrong going on. The sad part? We want people to succeed. We lift people up because we expect the same extended hand when we need it. At some point, though, and I think we’re really close to it now, we have to let go and hope the person has enough wherewithal to get out before a pink slip lands on a desk.
I’ve been in this position once before and it was a really long time ago when I worked for a bank. I was a temp. There were two admins in the department and I did whatever they needed to support the rest of the team. An admin went out on maternity leave and I covered for her. The other admin’s flaws came into sharp focus. When everyone can see the lackluster work, it’s not a good thing. That admin was fired. I was hired. The lackluster work is coming into focus. I have a good idea how this story is going to end.
This weekend we had responsibility for The Nieces. I picked them up from school on Friday and their parents picked them up from our house this afternoon. I will never forget my name because I heard it 123,405,345.56 times. Exactly.
Last night we played the board game Life. It was awesome. I played that game with my sisters when we were young. It still remains a great board game. The rules have changed a bit and now you have “action” items to do throughout the game. Of course, we didn’t know this until we realized we hadn’t picked any of those cards. I was in charge of cards and decided to finish reading the directions (smile).
One of those action items is that the draw-er of the card must go fetch drinks. I hollered “Wine” in an Exorcist voice and The Nieces yelled for Blood Orange Pellegrino. We’re schmancy here (also have you tried the flavored Pellegrino? You need to do it.). The better-half had to go fetch the drinks and I think we may have also made money from the bank, but I don’t remember.
The better-half also drew the action item that forced the rest of us to try to make him laugh. The Nieces went for the tickle and I went for the mooning. I think we were all in a puddle of hilarity before my mooning got past the point of tramp stamp, if I had a tramp stamp. Which I don’t. Seriously, there are things I won’t do and I won’t do that. I also won’t drop trou in front of The Nieces. At least not without many more Action Cards of Wine.
The game of Life is still a pretty good game and I can’t wait for them to spend the night so we can stay up too late playing.
We have two Tempurpedic beds. For over a month, the one we purchased in 2008 has been making enough noise to wake us both up. We’ve moved the support feet around and that hasn’t really helped. If your super-comfortable bed is too loud to sleep in, then you start to get a bit ragey. I’m not a good sleeper to begin with so the bed screaming every time the better-half moves makes me crazy ragey.
As it turns out, the foundation piece (aka box spring) is made out of fairy dust and unicorn poop. That is, it isn’t made out of real stuff. The “wood” of the foundation is paper. The drunks who put it together missed several times with the staple gun and the screws are an amalgamation of someone’s disorganized garage. This is how I imagine the guys on the line putting together this piece, “Dude, just pick a screw, I don’t care which and while you are over there fetch me a beer.”
We’re about to make a trip to the hardware store to buy plywood to build our own foundation so we can sleep tonight. This isn’t exactly what I thought I’d be doing today.
Update
The completely solid foundation we built gave us zero noises last night. Unless you consider human and cat snoring as noise.
