Month: October 2005

  • Kelly tagged me regarding my current favorite songs.  This is
    nothing approaching immutable, but at this very moment, these are most
    frequently played on my Yahoo! music engine:

    Third Day's King of Glory
    Matchbox Twenty's Unwell
    Michael W. Smith's Agnus Dei
    Toby Keith's I Wanna Talk About Me
    Sandi Patty's Go Without Knowing

    Next month will probably find me listening to something
    completely different, of course.  And I necessarily omitted many
    that really ought to have made the cut:  Boney M's Rivers of Babylon, for instance, and George Strait's I Just Wanna Dance With You

  • Here, I'll make everyone feel really good about themselves, and tell about the yucky situation that occurred last night.

    I'd gone into the bedroom to get ready for bed, during which time Boots
    (the cat that likes to lay on our bed) decided she wanted to go into
    the rest of the house.  Now.  Right
    now.  Really, she meowed, get cracking and open this darn
    door.  Now, Dmitry doesn't call her "stupid cat" for no
    reason....when I finally went to open the door Boots pulled her usual
    stunt of dashing back to stand next to the bed and cower.

    Boots cowers like nobody's business.  She's the "Cowering Cat"
    poster cat.  I don't hit her or kick her, for crying out
    loud!  In fact, I'm the one who provides food, water, and changes
    the kitty litter.  Couldn't tell it by her behavior when I go to
    open the door for her, however.  One would think she'd suffered
    the torments of the damned at my hands.  Read once that cats do
    this to create a little excitement in their otherwise rather dull lives.

    Good as explanation as any.

    Anyway, I opened the door a few inches then walked toward Boots,
    angling a bit to the left, thus providing a Way Of Escape for
    her.....she dashed like the Seven Hounds of Hades were on her tail,
    knocking the door open as she beat a hasty retreat into the hall.

    And in so doing, tripped over the quite frighteningly huge roach (the
    kind that lives outside and sneaks into the house) that was outside the
    door, scuttling toward the bedroom.  I don't know which was most
    surprised and taken aback:  Boots, the roach, or me.  I
    suspect it was me.

    The roach apparently decided that whatever it
    was in the bedroom sent the cat rocketing wildly out of it was
    something smart roaches avoid, so turned around to go back the way it
    must have come.  Except now there was Boots sitting there, casting
    an interested eye on this new kitty toy.

    Hmmm.....Freddy Krueger in the bedroom, a large roach-killing critter
    dead ahead.  This was one baffled bug, which elected to hunker
    down next to the big box of books in the hall (which has been there at
    least a year and a's on the list, alright?) and hope no-one notices it.

    Trust me, roaches the size of rutabagas, I notice. 

    Grabbed a really old can of flying insect spray from under the bathroom
    sink cabinet and - putting my shoes on first, naturally - gingerly yet
    bravely tiptoed into the hall where the roach was, and sprayed
    it.  Since it was facing in the opposite direction I couldn't get
    a really good look at its face, not to mention it was dark in the hall,
    but the impression I got was of puzzlement.  Sprayed it
    again.  This time it shook itself irritably and ran on.

    I found a magazine I decided needed to be thrown out anyway, and
    cautiously entered the hall.  I could hear the sounds of
    scrabbling, so figured it'd run behind a paper bag of stuff (it's on the list, okay?) and Boots was trying to get to it.

    Nope.  Boots was sitting still, head cocked, attention fastened on
    the bag, from which the loud scrabbling noises came.  The bug had
    climbed into the bag but now wanted out.

    Mercy Maud, I do so hate situations like these. 

    I can't go to bed listening to that noise, obviously, but I'll be
    darned if I'm going to peer into that sack, either.  After a
    minute or two Rutabaga Roach managed to pull itself up sufficiently to
    leap out of the sack and land on the floor, whereupon I dropped the
    magazine on it and stamped on it.  Then went to get a phone book
    and drop that on it for good measure. 

    Y'know, the publishers of those phone books are quite right....there are some things the internet just can't do for you. 

  • You know, it's surprisingly difficult to take a picture of
    oneself.  Guess the camera's too close, and I can never figure out
    how to set it on the timer function, so just hold it as far away from
    my face as my arms will permit, then try not to look too goofy.

    Doesn't work noticeably well.

    I've been feeling increasingly uncomfortable with my continued use of
    the previous photo, as I've gained two years, about 25 pounds, at least
    a fourth again as much white hair, and this morning I had it cut short.

    May as well stick Meg Ryan's picture up there!  It bears about as much resemblence to reality as the one I've been using.

    Might see about getting Dmitry or Don to take a crack at it later,
    though, in hopes of getting a better photo.  OTOH, it may be this
    is about as good as it's gonna get. 

  • Darned if I hadn't forgotten the traditional Costumed Kindergartner
    Parade!  This morning was Brianna's turn to visit each classroom
    in her school with the rest of her kindergarten class:

    Here they were lined up and ready to move out.  That's Brianna in the white outfit.

    Our Snow Princess with one of her school friends, and with her teacher. 

    Jason, Brianna's daddy, watching his princess exit one of the classrooms.

    Tomorrow night Brianna's in the North Richland Hill's Hoot & Howl!  Stay tuned.

  • While at Kirstin's I got Benjamin's school photo (he attends preschool
    twice a week), and also scanned in Brianna's picture from a couple of
    months ago:

  • This morning I went to Kirstin's to mind the kids whilst she went to a
    Junior Woman's Club meeting (except it turned out it was held off-site,
    and since this was her first time to attend this particular section, no
    one thought to clue her in....she spent the time running errands,
    instead).  When I arrived it was to find Bryson in hog (and dog!)

    He's certainly getting into the Halloween spirit. 

    Bethie was at school when I got there, but later in the morning we all
    piled into the van and went to fetch her.  First words out of her
    mouth were, "Did you remember "Anastasia" this time?"

    Was pleased and relieved to be able to assure that yes, this time Gran remembered. 

    Aren't they cute? 

    When Kirstin was over on Saturday, visiting Alex and his family, she
    mentioned that Bethie's begun requesting (actually, "demanding" is
    probably closer to the mark) stories as Kirstin drives them

    I tell them stories, you see....."Three Little Pigs," and "Goldilocks
    and the Three Bears," and I'm preparing "Little Red Riding Hood."

    Anyway, Kirstin said she obliged with one story, then another, but upon
    being urged to tell yet another tale, she balked, saying she was tired
    of telling stories.

    Apparently this led to a deep, pregnant silence from the back, then Bethie observed with a certain amount of asperity, "Gran never gets tired of telling us stories!"


  • This afternoon as Dmitry and I drove away from school, he idly observed
    that he sure does a good business with those turkey-bacon-lettuce
    sandwiches I often make for his lunch.

    "A good business?" I echoed, startled. "Do you mean you're selling them?"  Frankly, I was torn between outrage and feeling rather flattered.

    "No," he hastened to assure me, "I don't sell them.  I trade them.  Today I traded them for four hot dogs!"  He sounded quite complacent about this exchange.

    Anyway, it turns out he wants two sandwiches so at least one can be
    used as lunchroom currency, swapped for whatever the day's market will
    bear.  Sometimes a drink, sometimes a different sandwich,
    etc.  And occasionally he swaps both of 'em for four hot dogs. 

  • That.  Just.  Drives.  Me.  Utterly.  Demented

    A quote of Florida governor Jeb Bush:  "That's by a factor of five or six, the amount of people who didn't
    have power with Katrina in the Gulf states region," Bush

    The AMOUNT of people?!? 

    "Amount" is a purposefully vague term of measurement, intended to be
    used for that which cannot reasonably be counted individually. 
    One serves a number of baked potatoes, but an amount of mashed potatoes.

    Human beings should never, ever be referred to as an "amount." 

  • Who remembers when diesel was significantly cheaper than ordinary gasoline?

    The diesel-burners got burned, didn't they?  This afternoon
    regular was $2.50/gal at the Shell station near us, while their diesel
    was a whopping $3.29/gal. 

    What's accounting for the enormous price difference?  Anyone know? 

  • [plaintively]  I tried, really I did.

    The dipped-in-egg-then-dredged-in-cracker-crumbs deep-fried tilapia filets looked right tasty.

    Ate one bite and that's all I could manage. 

    Don ate his but said he's never been terribly partial to fried fish,
    himself, much preferring the type of recipe we had last week.

    Then there's Dmitry.....for his
    money that was the finest meal he's eaten since he hit America. 
    Scarfed down his, and was incredulous when he grasped I was sincerely
    offering my filet-less-one-bite to him; that if he didn't eat it it'd
    be dumped in the trash.  Made short work of it, then I swear cast
    sheep's eyes at Don's (who mayn't have been crazy about fried fish, but
    was hungry enough to eat it, especially with lots of tartar sauce).

    Dmitry tried to get me to promise to make it every week.