GetSheila

My microwave passed out this morning

Don’t worry. Bob is fine now.

I call all inanimate objects Bob, much to the consternation of my friend Astrid’s husband, Bob. All inanimate objects except my laptop table Dave, that is. IKEA named him and to arbitrarily start calling him Bob would be confusing and wrong.

Bob the microwave is perfectly okay now but he gave me quite a scare this morning. My routine is to stumble bleary eyed to the kitchen and heat one and a half cups of water in the microwave for four and a half minutes while I stumble back to the bathroom to wash my face. Me and my fresh face then put a tea bag in the hot water to steep and set the microwave timer for another four and a half minutes while I go back to the bathroom to brush my teeth. When the timer dings, I have perfectly steeped tea ready for its transformation into the perfect cup of morning wake up via the application of milk and sugar.

This morning, however, I inadvertently turned the microwave ON for the second four and half minutes rather than simply setting the timer so Bob cooked a whole bunch of nothing all that time. He finished, beeped as per usual, and waited for me to arrive to pull out the tea bag before saying, “Oh for fuck’s sake,” and clicking all of his little lights off while I stood there feeling helpless and alone. His skin was hot to the touch and he smelled funny.

My first thought was to panic but I assembled my cup of tea instead and went out to the garage to make sure I still had the tiny microwave that came with the house which, in a flash of brilliance, I kept for emergency backup purposes. Bob II was just where I left him.

As I came back inside, Bob woke from his fainting spell. It’s a miracle! Or he remembered Bob II lives in the garage and re-thought his little tantrum. Either way, I apologized and promised not to cook a whole bunch of nothing in future and Bob said he will happily nuke anything I want for as long as his little high voltage transformer holds out.

The moral of this story is that relationships are all about give and take and compromise.

Or maybe its all about leverage. You decide.

 

Technorati Tags: microwaving nothing,bob

More of the Mystery Plant

Thanks for all of your input on the mystery plant. I am going with Jenn Bo. It must be some flavor of Day Lily.

More shots of the flowers opening nicely:

 

Extreme close up! I love digital cameras.

 

The most distressing thing about this plant is this:

 

The bulbs at the top of the stem get too heavy and the stem falls over dead with perfectly lovely flowers still on it. Tragic.

I need to divide this sucker, along with my plethora of Canna Lilies. I knew they were taking over. Note the rose bush engulfed by cannas:

 

And the sugar plum tree about to be steam-rollered by a line of marching cannas:

See the tiny patch of them at the left hand side of the picture? That was all I could manage to dig up last winter in my feeble attempt to divide and conquer. The roots are giant bulbs that form a giant bulb conglomerate able to withstand all invaders.This year I will get out the butcher knife and be ruthless.

It is for their own good.

 

Technorati Tags: garden,day lily,canna lily,mystery plant

Mystery Plant

Hey, remember the Mystery Plant?

Here it is now, blooming:

A closer view of the flowers:

Okay people, I am counting on you. What is this? Some kind of lily?

Technorati Tags: garden,mystery plant

Death to All Flying, Stinging Things

I murdered some wasps this weekend. I tried to embed a Flickr slideshow for you but it did not order them correctly so please click over to the slideshow on Flickr. Click on “Show Info” at the top right of the screen over there if you do not see my comments for each photo.

Meanwhile, here they are pre-extermination: Dead Wasps Walking.

Now that I have finally done it once, I will not work myself into such a panic the next time. It was pretty gosh darn easy. It was a rather small nest, though. If I come across a larger one, I reserve the right to be scared like my nephew Daniel like a little girl all over again.

While I was pretending not to panic, I practiced my favorite method of procrastination and spent Saturday afternoon cleaning and organizing. Behold the freshly hosed down patio with the indoor/outdoor carpets brought out of winter storage to protect the delicate foot pad from the harsh concrete.

Just in time for friends to come over for some hot tubbing and later yell encouragement at me from the safety of the screened in patio while I sprayed death at the wasps.

Good times.

Technorati Tags: wasp extermination,fun with poison,backyard follies

Chicken Plucker!

No, it is not a new insult or obscenity. It is a contraption, and my sister just built one.

And just when I was beginning to forget she is not your normal human.

How does a chicken plucker work, exactly? This two minute video shows you. It is not gory and disgusting, I swear. I found it rather amazing:

I’m not going to ask what the chickens hanging upside down in the traffic cones is all about. I am pretty sure that part is gory and disgusting. Tra-la-la, they are just having a little inversion therapy.

Should I ever find myself needing to pluck a chicken, this whizbang chicken plucker will be the way to go. Not that I expect to ever need to pluck a chicken. That is why god made grocery stores and butchers.

But hey, if I am stuck on an island with a bunch of scantily clad humans and they have a chicken plucking elimination event, I will totally build one of these using wood from fallen trees, sap from rubber trees, and nuts and bolts shed from passing airplanes.

I will build a bicycle to power the motor and the Howells and I will feast on roast chicken while Ginger belly dances for entertainment and the Professor and Mary Ann soak in the hot tub built by Gilligan and the Skipper.

And then MacGyver will show up to rescue me and we will live happily every after.

_______________________

Many thanks to Roxanne for calling last night and getting me out of my bad mood. I luvuman!

 

Technorati Tags: contraptions,karen,sisters,chicken plucker

My sister is from another planet, and it isn’t Venus

My family looks forward to my sister’ visit every year. She flies down from Idaho and stays for a week or two doing chores and projects for all of us.

It may seem mercenary to make her work so hard on her vacation but, if we don’t, I fear the rest of the world could be in danger. A snippet from a recent email:

I only worked 8 hours today, came home and split a bunch of wood, tarped the dog house, made sure everyone has lots of food and water, spread a bale of straw in the chicken hoop coops, spread bales of cedar shavings in the horse shelter, now I’m going to take a shower and relax.

I left out the part where she said they forecast a HIGH of 6 degrees for a while, hence all the preparations. But STILL, there are so many things wrong with her statement I am not sure where to begin.

First, she “only” worked 8 hours that day. The slacker.

Next, she split a bunch of wood, then continued to do more chores. Normal people would fall down immediately and ask the nearest person for a massage or some aspirin or perhaps a beer.

Finally, she lives on a farm. Clearly. That is a full time job in and of itself without the additional day job and wood chopping. But how does one know to spread straw and cedar shavings when it gets cold? Is there an adult education class for people who live in the boondocks? Do you get extra credit for making your own pie crust?

And yet we both love science fictions and fantasy so always have something to talk about.

In addition to scheming about how we can organize mom’s house while she is sleeping so she doesn’t see us throw away the bottle of whiskey that is so old it only cost $4.79 and replace it with a new one.

We will always have those kinds of bonding moments.

Technorati Tags: sisters,karen,projects at moms

Party all the time

I was fine when my new neighbors had a loud Saturday night party. I was fine when, a few weeks later, they had a Saturday night birthday party that was just as loud and ran just as late.

I know it was a birthday party because everyone gathered in the back yard at 10:50pm to sing the happy birthday song at the top of their lungs. (Yes, I was in bed at 10:50 on a Saturday night. Shut up.) Did I mention their house faces a through-street while mine is the first house on a cul-de-saq so their backyard is right outside my bedroom window?

So I suppose it is no surprise there was yet more loud music and laughter and video gaming and children squealing but I draw the line at 11:30pm on a Wednesday night.

Picture me throwing on jeans and standing in front of the mirror trying to decide whether to put a jacket over my tank dress PJ / rumpled jeans combo before heading over to politely ask them to shut the fuck up.

A man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties opened the door, though do not rely on me when it comes to guessing age. Anyone under forty is “mid-twenties” to me. He was accompanied by a young boy. I had thought, perhaps, the children I heard squealing were really young adults over-excited by the video game. Surely responsible parents would not let their young children stay up this late on a school night.

But life is full of surprises to fuel my sense of outraged disapproval.

I was polite. I introduced myself and explained that I lived behind them and how their back door was right next to my bedroom so could they please turn the music down and also close their sliding glass door? By 10:00pm on weeknights?

I added that I hated to be such a party pooper because they sounded like they were having a really good time.

I smiled a lot.

The man did not smile but he did bob his head and say okay and repeated “by 10:00.”

Back in bed, it was sweet, blissful quiet. They continued to party but had turned down the music and closed the door so I only heard the tiniest beat of bass, and only if I strained my ears and concentrated real hard.

I lay awake, feeling a bit anxious about having to go over there but glad I did all the same. Perhaps it was the Tejano music that sent me over the edge. Would I have bothered if it was rock and roll? I do wonder.

Should I still bake cookies and introduce myself properly in the daylight? Maybe I will wait and see if they bake cookies for me as a peace offering.

I am not holding my breath.

 

Technorati Tags: loud neighbors,neighborhood ettiquette

Twilight Zone?

Um, exqueeze me but What The Hell?

It was 86 degrees here just last Wednesday, I swear!

Technorati Tags: weather,season change

The IKEA Honeymoon is Over

Don’t get me wrong, I still like IKEA, but I begin to see the cheapness of the products. I always knew they were cheap…er, inexpensively manufactured…but now I actually see it.

I still love my bedroom furniture (MALM), though I wish I had opted for the darker fake wood look rather than the birch fake wood look.

I still love my laptop table (DAVE,) my drop-leaf table (MUDDUS-geez, what a name,) and my cat house (BASTIS BLOND) that I stuck a piece glass on top and call an end table. But I went to IKEA yesterday and came away disappointed. My needs were simple:

1. Living room sectional: what does IKEA have and how much does it cost?
2. Kitchen cabinets: what do IKEA’s cabinet look and feel like up close?
3. Wicker baskets to use as trash receptacles: does no one carry tall, skinny umbrella stands any more, ideal for trash because they hold a lot yet are tall so you do not have to look at the trash unless you stand directly over them and look down?

1 – Sectional styles are limited and the ones I sort of liked are just as expensive as what you can buy at a regular store, where they actually deliver it to your house and set it up for you.

2 – Cabinets look and feel cheap.

3 – No one carries wicker umbrella stands any more. Apparently it no longer rains.

To top off the disappointment, my shopping buddy was not quite sure about an item so we asked about the return policy: 90 days, with receipt, package must be unopened.

Um, what? Package must be unopened? What if you get it home and it is broken? Or you open it up and the color or size or material is not quite what you expected? Or it is just plain ugly now that you see it in context and you don’t like it?

The bloom is off the rose. IKEA, I am so over you.

 

Technorati Tags: IKEA,when shopping stops being fun

The Seasons, They are a-changing

First inkling summer is coming to an end:

I wake up at 5:00 AM, cold, and have to pull up the comforter, dislodging an annoyed cat who views the comforter at the end of the bed as his own personal sleeping poof.

The Second Sign:

Instead of shorts and a tank top for house-lounging, I must don sweat pants and a T-shirt or suffer odd sensations throughout the day I finally identify as “cold.”

Definitive Proof:

Yard work in the middle of the day does not give me heat stroke because it is only in the low-80’s.

*   *   *   *   *

How is your weather? What are your season-changing signs?

 

 

Technorati Tags: summer's end,seasons