Myriad meteorological miseries

Yep, I’m going to write about the weather. I know, that’s pretty clichéd at this time of year. At least I gave it a fancy title.

I knew that the weather here in Kentucky, and all along the East Coast, had been crappy recently, but I had no idea just how crappy. My favorite weather blog had a map yesterday that showed that every state in the US except Florida had snow on the ground. That’s a lot of snow, people. I don’t have hard numbers on this, but it seems like we are averaging an inch or two of snow at least every week and a half. As of January 12th, this portion of Kentucky had already received more snow than we usually get in an entire winter.

But (you might be thinking) who doesn’t love snow? It’s sledding and snowmen and angels and hot cocoa and snuggling by the fire and rosy cheeks! I felt that way, too…until I started driving. And got old. Now, snow is getting stuck in an unplowed parking lot, sliding into a ditch, shoveling (and shoveling again, when the original shoveled area gets covered over), crawling up my sloping driveway on my hands and knees because it is too icy to stand on, constantly having wet frozen feet, and either breaking a limb or getting run over by a bus after falling off the slick sidewalk. Add to that a dog who, when there is snow on the ground, gets confused and thinks that poo is a food item. Oh, and the special joy of receiving a $330 electric bill in the mail, since the average temperature is running about 15 degrees below normal. Can you tell that I’m thoroughly tired of winter already?

There are a couple of bright spots. Mr. Nerd has promised that I can get a new cell phone next month, which gives me something to look forward to for the next few weeks. (I’ve been suffering from a bad case of New Cell Phone Fever. My life is not terribly exciting, in case you can't tell.) And I got these:

Aren’t they adorable? I have wanted a pair of wellies forever, but hadn’t been able to justify the expense. After he had to bodily pull me up the driveway a couple of times, Mr. Nerd heartily agreed that it was worth the $25 for me to get a pair of boots with good traction. So, if you see me slogging through the snowy downtown streets after a long, cold day at work, I might be feeling pretty miserable. But at least my feet will look cute.

You say "resolutions," I say "goals"

Happy New Year! Welcome back to my corner. *dusting off cobwebs* It’s been a while, I know. If you’re reading this, thanks for sticking around through the lean times.

I don’t make New Year’s resolutions, because it makes me feel way too guilty when I break them. For the past couple of years, though, I have set myself a few goals—areas where I think I need to make improvements over the next year. Sometimes I follow them, sometimes I don’t. I’m hoping that sharing this year’s list of goals with you guys will help me actually follow them. Kind of an accountability-partner thing, or whatever the buzzword-y types are calling it now.

1. Lose nine pounds – I know, very original. Everyone makes this resolution. But just because it’s not an original idea doesn’t mean that my behind is not expanding at an alarming rate. I’ve gained five of those pounds since Thanksgiving. (Seriously. Six weeks, five pounds.) To that end, all treats except peppermint patties have been banished from my house. I have an ice cream coupon that expires on February 11th; if I have lost five pounds by that time, I get to buy the ice cream. Ah, ice cream. The Great Motivator.

2. Focus less on material things – This is really, really hard for me, because I love clothes and shoes and cool gadgets and purses and shopping and trying on and buying. (And boots. I particularly love boots.) But, I realized that I put too much emphasis on those things, and I need to do better. Hopefully this will also help me wait the six months until my cell phone contract is up and I can get a new phone. (Goal or no goal, I’m gettin’ a 4G phone, Jack.)

3. Exercise more – Again, very original. But my thighs have become ever more thunderous since my surgery last August, and I need to get my butt up and get moving. I should not be getting winded from tucking skinny jeans into my boots.

4. Read more – When I was younger, I read four or five books a week. In the last 10 years or so, though, I had kind of lost interest in fiction, with a few exceptions. Thanks to Masterpiece Mystery on PBS, I have discovered a newfound passion for mystery novels. Since the public library is conveniently located right next door to my office building, I have no excuse for not reading. My goal is to finish at least two books a month.

So what about you? Did you make resolutions or set goals for 2011? Have you broken them already? ‘Cuz I ate four Starbursts this afternoon, and I’m trying to figure out if that means I’ve already broken Goal #1.

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.

Fortunately for them, they're also cuddly and lovable

I’ve often heard parents (particularly new ones) talking about the things no one tells you about before you have a baby. Like projectile vomiting, all-night screaming jags, diaper bombs, and other trials of parenthood. Well, I don’t have any kids…but I do have dogs. When my husband and I bought our first home in 2003, I decreed that it was time for us to have a dog. While he was scouting out lovable pooches on Petfinder, I was dreaming of L.L. Bean-catalog-style dog scenarios: Running through sunny meadows, frolicking at the beach, and cuddling with my fastidiously-groomed, perfectly-behaved Man’s Best Friend beside a roaring fire. Boy, was I wrong. Not to imply that I don’t love my little beasts—I adore them! But. In my seven years as a dog owner, I have learned a lot…and not all of it has been good.

Things No One Tells You about before You Get a Dog

You will become intimately familiar with all of the gross substances inside your dog.
My family had several dogs when I was growing up, but my mom must have taken care of the dirty work, because I don’t recall ever having to clean up so many gross excretions. Pee, poo, barf, mucous, mysterious leavings that could possibly be some mixture of the aforementioned…you name it, I’ve cleaned it up. And if one of the dogs is sick? You actually have to examine the stuff you’re picking up, prepare a “sample,” and, possibly, discuss its qualities and characteristics with a veterinary professional. I’ve never seen any of that  stuff happening in the L.L. Bean catalog.

Dogs don’t have the ability to use good judgment.
They eat things that were never intended for consumption. They figure out how to get into situations that they don’t have the brainpower to get out of. They talk trash to German Shepherds and other big, tough-looking dogs, even though they are 30-pound fluffballs who couldn’t kill a mouse. If you are going to share your home with a dog, you need to have a clear head, the ability to think on your feet and remain calm, and the vet’s phone number on speed-dial. I have actually gotten better about handling dog emergencies over the years, and no longer resort to bursting into tears and calling Mr. Nerd to tell me how to handle the latest catastrophe. It can still be really unnerving sometimes, though.

Dog hair is the most confounding substance on the planet
It gets everywhere--even in places where the dogs don’t go--and you will never get it off. You might as well give up trying. It can sense when you’ve just vacuumed, and it will fly off the dog(s) at an incredible rate until all available surfaces are covered again. Also, if you don’t commit to Swiffering every 45 minutes or so, it will bind itself into six-inch tumbleweeds and roll down the hallway. The best you can hope for is to try to match your furniture and clothing to the color of the dog, so it won’t be quite so obvious that all of your possessions are sporting a layer of fur.

Dogs have extra-sensory abilities
It’s true! They must have some kind of special powers! Otherwise, how could they tell when I am in a hurry, so they can all gang up under my feet? (I swear, it is just a matter of time until I go bum-over-teakettle down the steps some morning.) Or sense that it's Saturday, so they can all start barking and running around the bedroom like rabid dingoes about two hours before I have to get up? Or determine—even from several rooms away--that a food item has just been set within dog-reach somewhere in the house? It’s amazing. You would think, given these astonishing mental powers, that they would be well-trained, perfectly-behaved, and able to perform all sorts of incredible tricks. You would be wrong. After seven years of work, all we have to show for it is a solid “sit” and a lackadaisical, halfhearted “stay.”

Dog people, what have I left out? What about cats? Do they come with a set of warnings, too? Tell me about it in the comments!

Tonight I’m not takin’ no calls

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you might think that all I do is shop, take care of my wee beasts, watch TV, and lurk on my favorite blogs. (That's kind of true, actually.) I do, however, have a day job—I am an administrative assistant in a government office, where I am responsible (along with a couple of other admins) for answering the main phone line for the division. Calls. Lots of calls. Lots of calls from citizens, who are often a little unsure about how things work in local government—which I understand completely. The reason people call in is to get information. Somewhere along the way, though, it seems like some folks missed the instructions on how to make a good phone call. Clearly, these people need some help. In the spirit of being helpful, I thought I might include a few hints here on how to get the most out of your phone call.

1. Know why you are calling
You might think that this is a no-brainer, but there have been times when I was 10 minutes into a call and still had no idea what the person was asking. While playing a rousing game of “20 Questions” might be fun in my spare time, I don’t really enjoy it when both of the other lines are ringing, the copier just went toes-up, I can’t get a crucial document to print, and I have a meeting in seven minutes.

2. Be able to articulate said reason
I try to be patient here; I know that not everyone talks on the phone all day long as part of their jobs. I don't need a flowery oration. Just basic, moderately coherent human communication, that’s all I ask. If you are a young person (we get a fair number of calls from students working on research projects), please keep in mind that we are not all young people, and we might not be familiar with the current slang.

3. Do not be on fire
Our office gets lots of calls from people who are up against deadlines. They’ve often waited until the last minute to do all of the research on some kind of massive project. Therefore, they act as if their shorts are on fire, and they’re calling someone to come put them out. When someone says “emergency” to me, I think life-or-death, severed-limb, contractions-10-seconds-apart situations. Not “I forgot that my paperwork is due in 20 minutes and I lost the instructions and if I can’t get this done the world will end” kinds of situations. Not an emergency in my book. Please calm down.

4. Leave a message
Want to drive a receptionist (or other phone-answering person) crazy? Call for someone; note that it’s really important that you talk to them ASAP; refuse the opportunity to leave a message; and continue to call, every 15 minutes, for the rest of the day. I can’t stress this enough: leave a message. I know it’s hard to trust again when you’ve been burned before. But you need to understand: I want you to reach the person you’re trying to call! So you will stop calling me every few minutes. The people I work with are an incredibly passionate bunch of professionals who are very dedicated to serving the public. They return calls religiously. LEAVE A FREAKIN’ MESSAGE. (ahem)

Hopefully someone out there will find my helpful hints, and save some poor soul a bit of misery at work. Anyone else out there ever worked reception? Did I leave anything out?

I only come here seeking knowledge

Do you ever feel like life is giving you more questions than answers? Do you ponder the big existential questions like “who am I?” and “why are we here?” Did you come to my corner today as part of your quest for knowledge? If so, then--ha! You have seriously overestimated the intellectual level of this blog. I don’t have the answer to anything, other than what happens when a dog eats a hairball out of the trash. (You don’t want to know. Trust me.) As a matter of fact, I have some questions of my own. And, since my husband has gotten tired of me pestering him, I’m doing what any rational person with a question does these days. I'm turning to the Internet.

Why do socks have seams in the toes?

Since the weather has turned cooler, I am once again reminded that I hate socks. I only wear them to keep my feet from freezing off. And you know why I hate them? Toe seams. Hard, stabby seams, right in the narrowest part of the shoe where my toes need  all of the available space. We have nano-computers and space shuttles and working artificial organs, and yet the hosiery industry has yet to figure out how to knit a sock without seams. Lame.

Why does my hair go nuts overnight?
A couple of years ago, I got tired of dealing with my super-thick, white-girl-Afro hair, so I cut  it really short  to impart some degree of control. Short hair requires a fair bit of upkeep, so I get a trim every few weeks. Here’s what I don’t understand: One day, it will be fine…acting like normal human being hair, more or less, and able to be styled without too much trouble. The next day—a mere 24 hours later!—it won’t dry, it’s sticking out all over like some deranged Bozo wig, and it takes a crap-ton of hair gel to slick it into some sort of relatively normal shape. And if humid weather gets added into the mix? There might be tears. Quickly followed by a frantic call to set up a haircut appointment.

Why does my clock radio have a mind of its own?
This one has me completely mystified. A couple of Christmases ago, Mr. Nerd bought me one of those really fancy iPod-docking clock radios. It’s very nice, has two alarms, and a bunch of different functions (although it has a 60-page manual and it nearly requires a Computer Science degree to program it). The big mystery, though, is how and why it’s able to change stations of its own free will. Every few months, I re-set the alarm to my preferred radio station. It will work fine for a while, then I’ll notice that I’m waking up to classic rock. Then alternative rock…NPR…oldies...adult contemporary…Top 40, etc. When it lands on a country station (shudder), I know it’s time to start the cycle all over again. And each time I haul out the manual and block out a couple of hours for re-setting the alarm, I wonder.

Those are my questions of the moment. I'll be here playing Bubble Town while I wait for the great minds of the Internet to send me some answers. Bonus points to the first person who correctly identifies the musical reference cleverly hidden somewhere in this post.

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?