I have a doctor’s appointment today in the middle of the day. Work was like argharghargh and so I ran out of there while I had the chance.
Got to the appointment early and ate my lunch in the car. In the parking deck. It is August in Virginia. That’s how come I’m at the hottest lunch spot.
I crack myself up.
No sooner than I posted that whine about the street signs and heavy equipment than they moved on to terrorize another part of the neighborhood. Sweet!
Just cracked this open on this beautiful Saturday (low temps and low humidity with a breeze):
Our neighborhood is under the siege of gas pipe replacement. A piece of heavy equipment (or 5) has been parked in front or beside our house for about 9 months (or forever). They hooked up our house about two weeks ago. Yay? The side street is finally patched enough that you don’t worry about popping a tire or losing the car’s undercarriage. The main drag is another story.
I’ve been in a silent, and ultimately a losing, battle with the bastards working on the road/gas lines with the Road Closed signs they can’t seem to stop leaving in the green-way between our house and the road. Really? How many times do I need to move that crap off the grass so I can cut it? A gazillion, apparently. How many bottles and cans do I need to pick up? Easily a dozen. I think they finally got the hint when I and others started putting the trash back on their equipment. When someone treats public space like a baby treats a diaper, I really wonder what their homes look like. Yep, I’m judging.
Now we come to the world’s largest staple or bracket or whatever that was dug up out of the ground. It looks like a horseshoe for a giant horse. It weighs about 5 pounds and is made of iron. I have moved that out of the way several times and today I found it back on the grass because one of the workers is an effin’ idiot. Rather than wrap it around a construction worker’s head, it is now in the recycle bin. I’m not sure I can get away with throwing away the Road Closed signs, but we’ll see.
Locking up children, racial profiling and whatever new fresh hell this awful president comes up with next is not how we make America great again. Because, honestly, America was already pretty great. A confederate sympathizer is running against one of our senators this fall. It really is 2018, right? We’re supposed to be living in the future or at least for the future. Quit looking back because the only path is forward.
Last night we went over to a friend’s place to celebrate her birthday. She put in a lot of work to get the party started in her backyard–twinkly lights, lots of cold beverages, some crazy good potatoes (seriously good potato bites), etc.
Not one person talked about politics. Not one person talked about hate. It was just a few pockets of people meeting each other for the first time or hanging out with people whom we’ve known for years. That is what living in 2018 is like. That’s the real world.
We bought some unripe peaches a couple of weeks ago. Last night we made the base and today the better-half ran it through our ice cream maker. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a star.
Peach ice cream!
This is the first time in 4 or 5 years that we’ve made ice cream and I think this is going to be our thing this summer. Because, holy cats.
A friend died over the weekend. He was in organ rejection after surviving for a year on his third set of transplanted lungs. He has two small children. That third set of lungs let him meet his youngest and watch him grow. That’s the best thing ever.
We went to my friend’s life celebration yesterday and the church was bursting to capacity. We were all dressed in the most colorful outfits. One of the guys who spoke said something about wearing colors that could be seen from space. My friend had a thing for the brightest colors to match his brilliant personality. There were some sad bits but there was a lot of laughter too. Lots of laughter. I think my friend would have been pleased.
I turned 50 in April and had my colonoscopy today. People say the 4 liters of Colon Blow you have to drink tastes nasty. I disagree. It’s not the taste, but the texture. Like a cold glass of snot. Over and over again. I slept through the procedure and commented that was a great nap because it was the kind of nap that hits you hard. Afterwards, we went out for breakfast and listened to a misogynistic boomer at the next table over. What an asshole (see what I did there).
One of the nurses at Colonoscopy R Us used to work at my place of employment. For such a small organization, I run into either present or past employees all the time. On Saturday, we ran into two co-workers. We are small but kind of legion.
We started the month with my sister’s wedding. It snowed a little bit at the beginning of April here in Virginia because OF COURSE. It makes for a good story about how cold it was at the reception.
We spent yesterday in Tappahannock at a memorial service for an uncle. There was a bagpiper, some heartfelt words and a dumping of ashes in the river. And, then good times and seafood. It was a pretty good way to spend a Saturday even though it sounds bad–a memorial service is supposed to be sad, right? It doesn’t have to be.
I cooked short ribs in the slow cooker today. They may not look like much now, but tomorrow they will be transformed into deliciousness.
As it turns out, that lizard brain memory of roast beef is well realized by short ribs.
The recipe I use recommends letting the ribs sit overnight. This is partly to get rid of the excess fat. Because they are some fatty fat fat. The other reason is the flavor deepens. I’m all for that.
It is actively snowing here. I feel like we’re getting more than anticipated, but I didn’t bring my laptop home from work because I’m sure I’ll be headed in tomorrow. We’ve been in a cold spell and it seems like we don’t actually see the sun all that much. I’m not imagining things because our solar panels made 635kw hours in January, 465kw hours in February and only 269kw hours so far in March. Compare that with 2017 data: January-378 (wow, January was worse), February-646 and a total of 875 for March.
We finally managed to get all of the briars we clipped a few weeks ago shipped out with the garbage. I’m sure the sanitation guys will be happy next week when we don’t have a supercan full of blackberry canes. I’m still waiting for some of the scratches to heal. It was wicked.
Speaking of scratches, the Lucy cat has to take a trip to the vet tomorrow. May everyone involved survive.
Snow update: 3/21/18 it snowed and didn’t really stick around. But, holy cow, more snow is called for this weekend.