Maybe you could cross-market the jerky to the stoners...

A couple of weeks ago, Mr. Nerd bought himself a Nook e-reader, and surprised me with one, too. Since we got new Android phones for Valentine's Day, too, we basically just leaped ahead about four years, technologically speaking, and it's awesome. Except when it's kind of disturbing. Since I have new gadgets, I've been poking around in unfamiliar corners of the Internet, and I am finding a lot of things that make me say: What the heck are these people thinking?

Self-published books

Apparently the proliferation of reading devices like the Kindle and Nook has created a huge market for these self-published ebooks. Mr. Nerd has spent a lot of time on the NookBooks section of barnesandnoble.com, looking for stuff to read. Here is one of his finds:

It's considered a "paranormal romance/urban fantasy anthology." If you check out the overview, it appears to be a mashup of Twilight/fairy/space/cat people-shape shifter/bodice-ripper romance, for 99 cents. And there are tons of these. I don't know whether I should laugh, or get busy thinking up stories for my new series about a scrappy part-dog/part-elf female ghost investigator and her on-again/off-again romance with a shape-shifting bad-boy cat/vampire named Chance. (Mr. Nerd would want me to let you know that he doesn't read these; he was looking for science fiction stories.) 

I came across these next few when I did a search for cookbooks:

Cooking with Coolio. Cooking. With Coolio. Now I'm wondering: Are there a bunch of these out there, that just shove a rapper into some completely random how-to guide? Like, say, furniture repair with 50 Cent? Landscaping with Lil' Wayne? Embroidery with Eminem? 

Is there a follow-up to this one, called Ten Great Recipes for when You Have the Munchies?

And were there supposed to be, like, 100 recipes, but Smokey (ha! I see what you did there) got too baked and ended up staring at his fingerprints for a few hours instead? I think the next installment would be a big seller, since you've already identified your target market. And it wouldn't require a whole lot of effort--list Dr. Pepper, Snickers bars, and Doritos, and the book is half-done already. Just sayin'.

Pardon me a moment while I try not to hurl:

100? Seriously? That stuff is nas-ty. I've never tasted jerky, and I pray that I never have to. We have dog treats in the cabinet that look AND smell better than this stuff.

And finally, check out the tagline on this one:

"Converting" makes it sound so...clinical. Like chemistry class. Do a few equations, gather up some test tubes, fire up the Bunsen burner and--voila!--venison dinner. Definitely no gutting involved here.

I meant to include some of the head-scratching-ly strange Android apps I've found, but I'm out of time for tonight. Be sure to check back for that!

There are no magic numbers here

Have you ever seen that “by the numbers” thing in the newspaper? I love that. Love trivia--little nuggets of useless information that I can retain in my poor wee brain, squeezing out all of the more important stuff. Since I was a little light on blog topics this week, I have created a “by the numbers” list of my own. (Thanks to my local newspaper, from whom I ripped off the idea.)

2,252
The number of copies I nearly (accidentally) made at work yesterday. I needed two.

12
The number of dog paws in my house.

5
Approximate weight, in pounds, of the mulch, gravel, and leaves that 12 dog paws track into my kitchen on a daily basis.

1.875
The number of ounces in the bottle of saline spray I have been huffing for the last two weeks in an attempt to open up my clogged sinus passages.

8
Advil Congestion Relief pills I have taken because the saline spray wasn’t working. Now the pills aren't working.

4
Firemen who responded to my 911 call when I was trapped in a car wash.

6 – 12
The number of months, according to some website that I can no longer find, that it will take for me to grow out my pixie haircut.

4,593
Estimated number of times I will want to shave my head while I am growing out my short haircut.

$1,000,000
Amount of money that it would take for me to ride a motorcycle. (Seriously. Petrified of those things.)

3
The number of leftover Thanksgiving desserts I ate the other day—after consuming my little Weight Watchers-approved bag of veggies. (Pumpkin pie, dark chocolate cake, and cranberry cinnamon cheesecake. All yummy.)

2
Pounds I gained from eating leftover Thanksgiving desserts.

17
Days left until my church Christmas play, which is currently occupying all the parts of my brain that aren’t all full of trivia. 

I was just finishing up my list, when I was brutally reminded of another:

240
Approximate number of times a day that I get poked--by a dog paw--in that one spot on my belly that is still sensitive from surgery.


And now: 2:20 until I can go snuggle in my warm bed. It's snowing outside, and I don't like it, y'all.

Now appearing in a nightmare near me

There's a lot going on in my corner right now, so I've been a bit pressed for time to write. I was going to do just that, though, about the photo below. Until I realized that a simple recounting of the conversation that this photo inspired might be funnier than any narrative I could write. First, some background. Mr. Nerd and I were sitting in traffic, on the way home from work. The photo is of an ad that appears on the back ends of some of our local buses. Of course, since I think it's bizarre and terrifying, I wanted to share it with you. So I asked Mr. Nerd (who always carries a camera) to take this photo:

Oh, hai!

Me: Can you take a photo of that bus, please?

Mr. Nerd: Sure, why?

Me: Because it's terrifying, and I want to write about it on my blog.

Mr. Nerd: You know, you're right. That freaky guy looks like he's peeping over the headboard or something. Like that view of him is the last thing you'd see before he murdered you in your sleep.

Me: Exactly! And, thanks for putting that image in my head.

Mr. Nerd: (sounding extremely satisfied with himself): You're gonna have nightmares now, aren't you?

Me: (shudder) I think the nostrils are the worst part.

So, what do you think? Terrifying? Or am I too sensitive? Are the nostrils the worst part?

Maybe I can hire him as a bunnyguard

Wow. I just realized that it is Thursday, and I haven't blogged yet this week. I'm so dog-tired that I just ate dinner (pizza, courtesy of Domino's) in my PJs, so it looks like it's random time. Here are a few thoughts for the end of this short (and yet oh-so-long) week.

• If you work outside your home, have you noticed an unusually large amount of water on the sink in the office restroom? One of my coworkers stopped by my desk this afternoon to point out the big, wet stripe across her abdomen, incurred when she leaned against the sink. What could cause a massive puddle on a sink where people only wash their hands? Do ducks sneak into the restroom and paddle around in the sinks? Because I refuse to believe that humans could splash that much water, then refuse to wipe it up...particularly when they should already have paper towels in their hands from washing.

• I have, in the past several days, bitten my cheek repeatedly in the exact same spot, and cut the same place on my calf each morning when I was shaving my legs. Apparently pain and/or blood is not enough to make me remember to be more careful when chewing and shaving.

• We have the most incredibly bold rabbits in my neighborhood. It's a massive, new-ish subdivision, with kids and cars and dogs all over the place. Living amongst all these threats, the rabbits must have gotten streetwise or something. We pulled into the driveway this afternoon, and there was a bunny lying in the front yard, just hanging out in the shade. I pulled further forward, and further still, and the bunny just...didn't move. Mr. Nerd got out of the car to shoo him off (I was afraid he would get scared and bolt under the car. [The bunny, not Mr. Nerd. Although he does say that my driving terrifies him.]) The bunny still didn't move! Mr. Nerd had to physically stand over him, and then he hopped off rather nonchalantly, I thought. Sometimes I wonder if one of these little toughies might run right into the house when I open the front door. Three dogs + one rabbit + indoors = Very Bad. 

That seems to be the sum total of what's rattling around in my head tonight, except for a plea for opinions from my bloggy friends. I am interested in exploring the possibility of migrating my blog to Wordpress, and I would like to hear from anyone who has been through that experience. Was it difficult? Did you have any major problems? Is Wordpress easier to use than Blogger? Harder? My HTML skills are very limited, and I don't know the first thing about CSS and stuff, so I am a little nervous at the thought of migrating. Any information would be greatly appreciated. Have a good weekend, and watch out for tough bunnies.

This might be rarer than Sasquatch...

A couple of weeks ago, I posted a rant about some butt-ugly shoes I saw at Off Broadway, which I dubbed "floots" because they're kind of a boot/flip-flop hybrid. Since then, I've seen them in all the shoe stores, but never on an actual person. (Maybe because they are, well, butt-ugly?) But my sharp-eyed blog buddy Cardiogirl had a sighting! She wrote a hilarious post about it, complete with an awesome illustrative doodle. You should go read it immediately, because it was nine kinds of awesome. Thanks, cg...that totally made my day.

            *********************************************************************

Do you ever have a dimwit week? If so, is there a cure, or am I going to be an idiot forever? All week long, I've been answering my work phone and completely forgetting what to say. On Sunday, I bought a dozen eggs so that I could make a pineapple upside-down cake for work...then left the eggs in the car for six hours. When I was baking the cake earlier this evening, I realized (too late) that I had bought the wrong kind of cake mix...and boogered up the liquid/fat ratio beyond all recognition. If you can offer any suggestions to help my poor brain, I would really appreciate it. I'm off to Kroger to buy more cake ingredients.

Weird things seem to happen to me, Volume 1

"There is no earring here," said the triage nurse confidently as she checked out my earlobe. "It must have come out." When I told her that there was, in fact, an earring there, except my earlobe was too swollen to see it--well, she got kind of pale. It's a little alarming when an ER nurse, who has probably seen every kind of gnarly injury known to man, looks at a part of your body and blanches. Let's go back to the beginning of the story, though.

My poor ears have taken a lot of abuse—they have been pierced, in exactly the same spot, no less than five times. The first two times, I was too young to care for them, so I let them grow back; the third time, they got infected; the fourth time, things got interesting. My ears had been pierced, again, for about two weeks. The left one had been feeling a little infect-y, but I really wanted to wear earrings, so I was trying to deal with it. In the span of a couple of hours one evening, my ear turned bright red and started to swell. It was getting kind of painful, so I checked it in the mirror…and realized that I couldn’t see the earring, at all. My ear had actually grown (or swollen or whatever), well, around the earring. I was starting to get kind of freaked out by this point, so I headed off to the ER. Where I made the nurse turn pale. After apologizing to the nurse, I eventually ended up lying on an ER gurney while a doctor took a scalpel to my earlobe and cut(!) it open to retrieve the earring. I don’t want to be too graphic, but I will note that I had to throw away my white sweater after that little escapade. Did you know that there is a lot of blood in your earlobe? I didn't either. The evening ended with the shaken triage nurse telling me that her daughter had been begging for pierced ears for months, but there was no way it was going to happen after she saw my ear. So, to the child who got a hearty lecture instead of a shiny new pair of earrings, I’m really sorry that I wigged out your mom.

Since a lot of weird things seem to happen to me, I think I'm going to make this post part one of a series. (The next gripping tale features a pig.) Are you one of those people, too? If you are, what's the weirdest thing that's ever happened to you?

My name is absepa, and I am a STATS sufferer

Severe Tick-Associated Trauma Syndrome (STATS)

Severe Tick-Associated Trauma Syndrome, or STATS, is a short-lived but deeply distressing condition directly attributable to a variety of the family Ixodoidea, more commonly known as a tick. It typically affects individuals who are predisposed to moderate to severe entomophobia (or fear of insects), but anyone can be affected. There is no known cure for STATS, although the severity of the condition typically lessens as time passes following the initial contact with the tick.

Symptoms
Although each individual presents differently when affected with STATS, one or more of the following symptoms may be observed:

- an overall “freaked-out” appearance
- sobbing
- whimpering
- trembling
- bouts of swearing (directed toward those @#$* bugs)
- nausea (typically observed during the process of removing the tick)
- an intense need for chocolate and/or a glass of wine (following tick removal)

Following the removal of the tick, the STATS patient may suffer from episodes of skin-crawling sensations (also known as the “heebie-jeebies”). A more violent form of the heebie-jeebies, known as the “willies,” might cause the patient to leap suddenly from a seated position and begin tearing at their clothing, in fear that there is another tick somewhere on their body. Also, do not be surprised if the patient desires to immediately launder (or perhaps burn) any garments, bedding, pets, relatives, etc., that could possibly be housing another tick. This is normal behavior following such an experience.

Treatment
There is no formal treatment for STATS, but caregivers of patients are advised to be gentle with sufferers following an attack. Mocking, teasing, or accusations that the patient is being “too much of a drama queen” generally will not aid the patient in their recovery, and might cause feelings of bitterness in the patient. Caregivers are advised to be kind to the patient; offer supportive words and a tender hug; and provide the patient with a “treat” such as chocolate, ice cream, or cake, and perhaps an alcoholic beverage. This type of offering will typically go a long way toward improving the patient’s overall disposition. The treatment phase of STATS can be expected to last a few hours, but patients may continue to exhibit some symptoms of this illness for a few days up to a couple of weeks. In rare cases, patients who were severely traumatized might continue to suffer the willies and/or the heebie-jeebies throughout the summer months, when STATS is most common.

(Editor’s note: The neutrality of this article cannot be confirmed. It should be noted that the author is a multiple-episode STATS sufferer, with the most recent incident occurring only two days ago. It should also be noted that the author’s spouse not only refrained from mocking, but actually performed the removal of the tick, since the author was far too wigged out to do it herself. He’s a real gem.)

The inexplicable pickle

Saw something really weird a couple of days ago. I’ve been thinking about it ever since, and I still can’t come up with an explanation for—well, wait. Let me give you the back story, and then we’ll get to the bizarre part.

Mr. Nerd and I both work for our local government. We work downtown, and we ride together to save money. We park in a typical downtown parking garage—dimly lit, a little smelly, narrow spaces, you know the kind of place. A couple of days ago, we ran home at lunchtime to let the dogs out. When we got back to work, we found a great parking spot--which is no small feat, since several hundred cars park in this garage. I jumped out of the car and headed for the exit, but noticed that Mr. Nerd was hanging back. With his cell phone camera out, taking photographs. Being of a very curious nature, I had to see what he could possibly have found to photograph in the parking garage. It was this:

A jar of pickles. A one-gallon jar of those enormous, whole-cucumber-size pickles. Sitting, unopened, next to a concrete pillar in a downtown parking garage. What. The. Heck?  When we left work that evening, it was still there, untouched. That was two days ago, and it's STILL there. We’re completely mystified. Who carries pickles around with them? Who would bring a giant jar of pickles to work, and then leave them in the parking garage?? So many questions.

Unfortunately, unless one of us runs across a co-worker who happens to be snacking on a massive pickle, we’ll never know. The Leaving of the Pickles will become just another of the mysteries of the parking garage. Like why that one space is always filled with a deep, murky puddle, even in dry weather, or who left the pile of pink Pixie Stick dust that appeared one day by the exit door. Who knows what secrets lurk in the shadows of the parking garage? Well, except for that one corner that always smells like pee. It’s pretty clear what’s been going on over there.

The flu didn't get me, but I thought daytime TV might

I spent a few days on the sofa last week, recovering from what may or may not have been the H1N1 virus. It seemed like way too much effort to drag myself out to the doctor, so I just dosed up with a liver-busting amount of ibuprofen for the fever, and called in sick to spare my coworkers, just in case I did have Hamthrax. It took four days to chase the fever away, and I have to admit it--I felt like I might die a couple of times. Oh, not from the (maybe) flu, although that certainly wasn't pleasant. The real danger was the possibility of dying from boredom, given the suckitude of daytime TV.

 Mr. Nerd and I made an uncharacteristically frugal decision last year, and cancelled the "extended" cable TV package. Our plan was to rely heavily on PBS and the Discovery Channel, which were included in the "basic" package. Most of the time, I don't miss the channels that we lost too much. But, spending three solid days on the sofa, too unwell to commit to watching a movie, nearly made me weep for the Food Network or TLC.

Even in my fever-addled state, I knew that the network stations would be a wash during the day--it's all soap operas; various hard-edged judges delivering justice to a series of lunkheads;  and Oprah, Dr. Phil, and Dr. Oz (it would take a lot more than a fever to make me watch Oprah or anything Oprah-related). So, I turned to my old standby, Discovery, expecting to be able to sink back into my semi-coma and enjoy some reruns of Dirty Jobs, Mythbusters, and Time Warp. And, you may ask, what did I find there? Fishing, in many forms. A couple of shows about pimping out cars, some ghost-hunter-type nonsense, and a whole lot of other junk that I didn't care one iota about. By the second afternoon, I had given up. I didn't feel like surfing (which should give you some idea of just how rotten I felt), but I decided to check Netflix, to see what was available via their "watch instantly" feature. Hallelujah! There, I found many seasons' worth of all of my favorite BBC comedies...more than enough to get me through the next couple of days with my sanity intact. (What sanity I had to begin with, that is.) That alone was worth my $14.99 a month. All hail Netflix! And ibuprofen, and Luden's throat drops! Whatever I had, I couldn't have gotten through it without you guys.

(Image courtesy www.santacruzhealth.com)

"Real life" can be really inconvenient sometimes

I can't believe it has been almost two weeks since I posted! No real crises or tragedies or anything; I'm just SO busy right now that I barely have time to string two thoughts together, let alone compose them into a blog post. For those of you who know what a Facebook crack-monkey I am, this should prove how little free time I've had lately: I haven't spent more than three minutes at a time on Facebook in over a week. Seriously. Another writing project, a major housecleaning adventure, sick dogs, and a whole load of church activities have combined into the perfect storm of butt-smoking busy-ness, and I'm ready to get off the merry-go-round now, please. Since I am still short on time to write, here are a few random thoughts I've had lately:

• Why do I keep doing embarrassing things in the copy room at work? I can stand primly by the copier for 20 minutes, and not a soul will come in...but, let me try to copy a move from Dancing with the Stars, or burst into a rousing rendition of "Son of a Preacher Man," and suddenly, someone will be standing right behind me. Then I get to spend the rest of the afternoon doing that whole did-they-see-or-did-they-not-see thing. Why do I never learn?
  

• I am a terrible dog mom. Abby Dog had her yearly checkup and vaccinations last week, and the vet found that one of her ears is horribly infected. (I will spare you the details, but the words "ulcerated lesions" were involved.) The treatment? Antibiotics--and a rolled-up gauze square, soaked in medication and inserted into her ear canal, while I hold her ear closed, once a day for two weeks. Surprisingly enough, dogs don't really like it when you shove things into their ears. Poor Abby deserves some credit, though. After four days of doing the gauze-roll thing, she has stopped struggling when I hold her. Now she just sighs a lot and gives me dirty looks. It's a good thing dogs don't hold grudges, or she might try to smother me while I sleep.

• It seems that the FDA has agreed with my opinion that Latisse, that eyelash-lengthening treatment, is pretty scary. One of the comments on my post mentioned that Latisse can cause hair to grow anywhere that it is dropped on your body, which was even more alarming to me than the side effects I wrote about. Of course, when Mr. Nerd and I saw that story on the news, he immediately asked if he could buy some to apply to his bald spot.

Okay, real life--I give! I know I'm out of writing time for tonight. I will try not to wait so long between posts next time!

aannnndd...we're back!

Sorry about that little impromptu vacation. I spent my evenings last week working Vacation Bible School at my church, and I was too wiped out to post when I got home at night. For those of you who aren't familiar with this phenomenon, it involves five nights of singing, dancing, screaming, squealing kids--and five workdays of being so tired you feel like you're going to die. Our church invites all of the neighborhood rugrats (in addition to our members' kids, of course), for a week of learning Bible stories, doing crafts, playing games, and singing songs. I helped to lead the group opening and closing activities, which were specifically designed to get the kids as hyped-up as possible. Figure in the kool-aid and cookies that we fed them for snack, and they were absolutely out of their little minds by the end of each evening. I think I had an advantage over some of the other workers, though, since I don't have any kids of my own. At the end of the night, I was able to retreat to my lovely,quiet, peaceful domicile, without any tiny jacked-up sugar fiends to keep me up until 1 am. All in all, we had a great time, but it was exhausting. I'm still recovering, so I'm going to take a couple of days and work on a real post. Just be thankful that I don't have any videos of those dance moves I was teaching last week. Trust me...no one wants to see that.

Can you spare a smiley for me?

What does your Shuffle say about you?

Okay, I gotta be honest. I saw this meme on Facebook, and I thought it looked like fun. I was going to just post it to my Facebook, but then I realized that it was high time that I came up with a blog post and, frankly, I was way too tuckered to write anything. But! I have a (sort of) good reason. I volunteered for some new responsibilities at work, and, between those and returning after ten days' vacation, my poor wee brain is so overwhelmed that I am simply not capable of coherent thought tonight.

So, here's the deal: the instructions said to set my iPod to Shuffle, and list the first 15 songs and artists that come up. I think this is supposed to tell you something about me. (Besides the fact that I'm too lazy to write a real post, that is.)

My Shuffle
"Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)" - U2
"SexyBack" - Justin Timberlake
"Think of Me" - Phantom of the Opera soundtrack
"Desire" - U2
"Summer Wind" - Michael Buble
"When Love Comes to Town" - U2
"No Action" - Elvis Costello
"Kissing A Fool" - Michael Buble
"Green Shirt" - Elvis Costello
"Wild Boys" - Duran Duran
"With or Without You" - U2
"(I Don't Want to Go to)Chelsea)" - Elvis Costello
"Only the Good Die Young" - Billy Joel
"Cavalleria Rusticana: Intermezzo" - Pietro Mascagni
"View to a Kill" - Duran Duran

As you have probably guessed, I'm kind of all over the place musically. I'm not going to tag anyone, since I always feel guilty when I don't do memes. But, if you would like to use this idea on your blog, feel free! And, I promise at least one actual post before I start teaching Vacation Bible School next week. (Shudder.)

Oompa-Loompa-Doop-A-De-Do

This could be the fate that awaits me:



Not because I crossed paths with some bad gum, but due to the astonishing quantity of fruit I've been eating lately. One of my favorite things about summer is the affordability and variety of fresh fruits at the grocery store, so I load up my cart every week. I was cleaning and cutting up this week's fruit haul yesterday afternoon, when I noted the following tally:

• 2 pounds of strawberries
• 1 pound of cherries
• 1 pound of grapes
• 2 pints of blueberries
• 8 bananas
• 1 cantaloupe
• 2 large deli-cut bowls of watermelon and fresh pinapple

Since I've been eating this much fruit every week for the past month, I fully expect to blow up like Violet Beauregarde any day now. I can only hope that the Oompa-Loompas roll me past that chocolate river on the way to be squoze.

Coming this week: I question the ever-increasing number of "digestive health" products on the market, and the follow-up to my fascinating product review!

A Slap Chop to the Funny Bone

Mr. Nerd and I spent about an hour last night watching this video over and over. My sides ached from laughing so hard.



Now that you've watched the video, you should understand perfectly why my husband and I have been going around yelling, "Watch this! You're gonna love my nuts!" to each other. (Or maybe you won't--we really are kind of odd.) But the video is still brilliant. Mad props to djsteveporter.

Like the Rap Chop? Smiley me, please!

An Apology, a Funny, a Shameless Plea, and an Award

An Apology

To any EntreCard droppers who have dropped here in the past five days or so, I apologize. I totally have not had sufficient time to devote to EC recently. I am thinking of getting out of EC, but I need to find another means of advertising/networking first. More about that below.

A Funny
Part of my job is answering phones. I don't have to help many folks; mostly, I just route calls out to the appropriate people. Sometimes, though, the callers make it almost impossible for anyone to help them. I went through this little scenario last week:

Caller: I'd like to speak to Bob Shipping, please.

Me: Ma'am, there are several men named Bob here, but no one whose last name is Shipping. Do you know which Bob you need to speak with?

Caller: There's no Bob Shipping? That's how I wrote his name down.

Me: Ma'am, there's no Bob Shipping...this is Shipping. You've called the Shipping Department.

Caller: But, I know I wrote down Bob Shipping! Can you please check and make sure there's no one there by that name?

**At this point, I wanted to say, "Lady, have you ever known anyone whose name was "Shipping"? And, assuming that there was someone by that name, what kind of coincidence would it be for him to WORK IN THE SHIPPING DEPARTMENT??"**

Me: Ma'am, can you tell me what this is concerning? That could help me find your party for you.

Fortunately, she knew what she was calling about, so I was able to figure out who she needed. It was indeed a Bob, but his last name is not remotely close to "Shipping." Go figure.

A Shameless Plea
Since I've been thinking about getting out of EC, I've been trying to find another way to network/market my blog. I found a lot of my favorite blogs through Humor-Blogs.com, so I thought I might take a shot at registering my blog with them. I did the registration part a few days ago, but I haven't heard anything yet. So, Diesel, if you're reading this post, this puppy face is for you:
Pretty please? I would love to be part of Humor-Blogs.com!

An Award
This is so exciting--I got my first award!! Stacie very graciously gifted me with a "One Lovely Blog" award. It has a really cool button thingy, but I am seriously lame and couldn't figure out how to post it here. Thanks, Stacie, and sorry I suck at the whole technology thing. If you haven't checked out Stacie's blog, you should! She's a mom, which I'm pretty sure means that she has WAY more irritation in her life than I do, and she's really funny. She also has a very cool header that I have coveted on more than one occasion. Thanks again, Stacie!

It's About Time You Got Here

Spring, I mean. (Not you, dear readers!) After a hellish winter, we have been suffering through a long, cold, WET spring. I was dealing with it pretty well for a while, but the four nights I spent shivering in the yard while I covered up the "tender vegetation" (that's what the meteorologists call it, and it makes me chuckle for some reason) used up my last bit of patience with this season.

Finally, though, spring seems to have really arrived. We have had three warm, lovely, dry days in a row. Today was perfect--temperatures in the high 70s, with no humidity and bright clear sun. I am currently sitting on my patio for the first time this year, and it is wonderful. Thanks to all the rain, the landscaping we put in last year is thriving. So, Spring, I am willing to forgive and forget all those April mornings that I trudged in to work in my winter clothes, longing for the day when I could haul out the sandals and set my toes free.

Now, I just need to figure out how to remove those airborne poop-delivery systems (aka birds) that have taken up residence in the vent on the back side of the house. I had to spend 30 minutes cleaning their leavings off the patio before I was able to enjoy it. I'm thinking a small explosive charge oughta do the trick; does anyone have a better idea?

I Love This So Much...

Everyone and their brother has probably seen this clip by now, but I just had to share anyway:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

(I would have embedded it, but YouTube has disabled embedding.)

I have wanted to be a professional singer my whole life. If you've never sung before, you probably don't realize how scary it is to walk out on that stage and wait for the music to start. Sometimes, I'm afraid that I won't be able to sing at all, but I may throw up instead. For that woman to not only take the stage, but perform so beautifully AND totally blow away the judges, was simply amazing. Susan Boyle, congratulations to you. I am so happy that the record companies are calling and you will have a chance to do what you love, because you deserve it.

Mid-week Blues

It's Wednesday. Here at Nerd in the Corner, we're tired and a little grumpy. Most of all, though, we want warm weather NOW.

Even Abby is a little down about it. But! We're supposed to hit 65 degrees for Easter Sunday, so things should be looking up soon. I hope to have some free time this weekend to write a real post, too. Happy Thursday, everyone!

A Lame Post is Better Than No Post, Right?

Over the past 5.5 hours, I have:

-Done a PT session
-Finished the grocery shopping for the week
-Stopped by the hardware store for a new dog-poop containment system (aka 5-gallon bucket with a tight-fitting lid)
-Picked up husband at work
-Calmed dogs from end-of-day wildness
-Put away groceries
-Fed dogs
-Fed self
-Spent 90 minutes cleaning the backyard: poo pickup, reset landscaping fences that had blown down, cleaned out a dryer vent that was blocked with dead leaves
-Took dogs out
-Put out clothes for tomorrow for both of us
-Done 20-minute home PT exercise session; realized that the step I use at PT is four inches high, the step in my house is seven. That explains the leg cramps.
-Cleaned up dog toys
-Washed face, brushed teeth, got settled on sofa
-Checked email and Google reader; discovered that an old co-worker has a really funny blog; did 25 Entrecard drops
-Wrote this lame blog post

Whew. I promise less lame-ness later in the week, when I've had time to catch my breath.

Notes from the State of Emergency

It's been an...interesting week in Kentucky. We've had a major ice storm, and it seemed like pretty much everyone in the state was without power for a while. My husband and I had many, many friends and family members who either stayed in their freezing homes (huddled close to fireplaces), or headed out to spend a few days in a hotel. Fortunately, it's beautiful out today--sunny with temps in the high 40s--so everything is melting. Most of our friends have power back in their homes, and everything is finally returning to normal. I learned a few things during the past week, though:

Someone deserves a Nobel Prize - I don't know who invented underground power lines, but they deserve some kind of major award. Our neighborhood has been through two ice storms in recent years, and kept power each time. During the 2003 storm, our house was not yet finished, so we spent a week in my in-laws' garage apartment. As nice as it was there, it was MUCH better to be at home. I am now much more aware of (and thankful for) the presence of electricity.

It's hard to justify being a wimp at work when all your co-workers are tough - I hate driving on snow and ice--it's white-knuckle time for me. So, in years past, I would simply not go in to work when the weather was bad. Now, I work with a bunch of hardy, dedicated public servants who not only refuse to stay home in bad weather, they won't even come in late. I had to either "man up" this week and just learn to drive on the icy streets without freaking out, or risk looking like a huge wuss compared to my co-workers. I drove every day, only got stuck once, and my husband said I did a pretty good job.

Winter weather can be rough on dogs - Imagine for a moment that your entire bathroom is made of ice--floors, fixtures, toilet, everything. Now imagine that you're trying to get, er, comfortable for your usual bathroom activities, and your feet are sliding all over the place. When your feet slide, your rump dips down onto the ice, which startles you, which makes you flail around even more. This is what happened every time we let our dogs out to poop on Tuesday and Wednesday. We tried really hard not to laugh at them, but we were completely unsuccessful. It was just too funny. It made me wish I had a video camera.

One thing is certain: those of us who made it through the ice storm of '09 will never forget it. Now, when's the first day of spring, again?