Randoms

I got out my sewing machine yesterday. And by "got out" I mean that I removed several metric tons of crap that covered it. It was almost as if someone had put that stuff on top of it to purge the very memory of its existence. I had found this very cute idea, you see, and thought that it would make a very cute end of the year gift for some of the teachers that have been kind enough not only to put up with my kids on a daily basis, but to educate them as well! All that would be required of my machine would be several simple zigzag stitches. Easy, right? No big deal, correct? HAHAHAHAHAHA!! I may have stated here before that my sewing machine hates me. That has to be the reason that my bobbin thread kept tangling. And I'm not talking a little knot. I'm talking "shut down the machine because half a spool of thread is tangled in this freaking thing" kind of tangled. So tangled that even Rapunzel would have been jealous. So tangled that I cursed the Singers, their stupid machine, and their family even unto the generations. So tangled that I cursed the invention of the needle. So tangled that I threw my project in a heap, glared at the machine and told it that it was going back to the bottom of the pile of crap in my closet and it could molder there for the rest of its time on this earth. Hmph.

Anyone want to make some simple zigzag stitches for me?

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Mother Nature has it in for me. First she decides that it would be great to try to throw me into depression by hiding the sun and sending rain and cold temperatures for nearly all of April. Then she decides to skip the normally beautiful and temperate month of May and just head for the yawning mouth of hell that is July. There's something wrong with having the air conditioner turned on in May in Indiana.

And she has also told the cottonwood trees to have a party and send their fluff into the air like so much confetti so that my family and I wake in the mornings with clogged sinuses and crusty eyes. She has also tried to ruin any grilling that I do with this fluff because it doesn't care where it lands or if it will commit nature's version of suicide by landing on my grill and any of the food that might be on it.

Bite me, Mother Nature.

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Maggie was inducted into the National Junior Honor Society last week. We are mighty proud. Sometimes she doesn't even seem 14, such is her maturity. Aaaaaand then she proves that she is indeed a teenager with some sort of hormonal induced fit of pique. Or eye rolling. Yeah. The eye rolling is proof that she is still a teenager.

Still. So proud.

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I wish that I had the guts to send out a letter to teachers at the beginning of May that I am off duty for the month. I am no longer interested in ridiculous homework, projects that require more than minimal time or effort (read: anything more than my signature), or carnivals or fairs in which you not only want my attendance but you ask that I volunteer time, money, and/or baked goods as well. I say that really, once DST goes into effect and the evening is extended, my only homework should involve the many different ways I can use my grill (sans cottonwood fluff, of course) and inventive ways of getting my family to do fun stuff outside.

Alas, I am a Gutless Wonder and have not sent such a letter.

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Sean had a baseball game last night. On one of his at bats, he hit a single. Yay! Then he stole second. Yippee! Then he stole third--had to slide and totally evaded the tag. Wahoo! He knocked third base loose. Then the ball was over thrown at home and he was waved on by his coach. You know what my boy did? You know, my boy who can't pick up his laundry or wet bath towels? He was trying to put the base back.

He knew he should be running, but he was frantic with trying to get the base put to rights. The coaches were yelling, jumping, and windmilling their arms wildly. The parents were yelling "Run! RUN!" and my sweet boy was trying to put the base back. Eventually something clicked (and thankfully there was another overthrown ball--gotta love Little League) and he dropped the base and sprinted head down, arms pumping for home where he scored.

Completely made my night. If you are feeling the least bit grumpy or out of sorts, I highly recommend watching young kids play sports. I can fairly guarantee that you will feel better afterwards.

The Dog Ate My Homework. Or Something Like That.

Remember how I was all I love my shiny new computer and I will be writing on it all the time life is happy lalalala? Well, that was before life conspired against me. Two things happened to get in the way of all that shiny, happy writing:

Thing the first: the geniuses at the genius bar at the Mac store couldn't keep our PC running long enough to do the file transfers that they needed to do.

Thing the second: I spent yesterday on my couch begging anyone within hearing distance to kill me.

Let's start with the second thing first, just to confuse things. I am Patient X for the new plague. I mean, possibly. It's also possible that I just have some sort of crud that has given me a sore throat, a fever not high enough to cause alarm but still high enough to leave me alternately chilling and sweating, body aches, and clogged nostrils that randomly change which side will be clogged depending on the phase of the moon and whether or not Mercury is in retrograde. Of course, I should be painting Maggie's room. She has been living with her furniture all shoved to the middle of her room for a couple of weeks now and while she's used to chaos in her room, this is a little over the top, even for her. So instead of painting or writing or doing laundry or anything productive, I spent my day on the couch watching horrible daytime television, napping, and wondering if there was anything in the pantry that would taste good enough to warrant my moving from the couch. Turns out, no.

So. There was that.

There was also Thing the First. You know, my pretty, shiny new Mac being held captive getting all tuned up for use. The transfer was supposed to take a couple of hours. When we inquired about it, they informed us that they could not keep our PC running long enough to do the transfer. I have been complaining about this to my beloved for weeks. It would just randomly shut down in the middle of stuff. That's not frustrating at all, right? As often happens with my beloved, if it doesn't affect him directly for an extended period of time, he doesn't usually see the problem. Now, my beloved has many fine qualities, not the least of which is that he's put up with me for nearly 20 years, but this trait of, um, oversight shall we say, sometimes makes me crazy. Well, after enough whining (the children joined me in this endeavor) he sat down at the computer and made a discovery: Something Is Wrong With The Computer! And lo, there was rejoicing in our abode! So when the geniuses at the Genius Bar informed us of the issue and told us we'd have to have our PC fixed before we could use our Mac, well, you know, that was fun. If by fun you mean almost exactly like giving yourself paper cuts over your entire body and then taking a few laps in a lemon juice-filled pool.

You know what the PC repair guys said? Go on, I'll wait. Guess.

Apparently dog hair and CPUs do not like each other. Rather, CPUs do not like dog hair. Dog hair, it turns out LOVES CPUs. So now we have paid to fix our PC and are waiting to pick up the Mac. (I am typing this on my beloved new MacBook which he generously loaned while he was out overnight. He hasn't synched his work stuff on it yet, which is why I wasn't left completely computerless. Shut up, Spellcheck, it is too a word.)

So now I know two things: Apparently I keep a filthy house, and two, I have yet another thing to add to the fine print of the Dumb Dog's "For Sale, Cute Dog" sign. Hmph.

A Life List Update And Some Shiny Happy News

I have officially hit my 25 bottle mark on my wine life list. I am a quarter of the way through. That sounds really bad until you think that it's been since last May or so since I embarked on this particular adventure. And also when you consider that I haven't consumed every bottle on my own. Most of them, yes (LUSH!) but not all. I have had help now and then. So I now give you numbers 11-25:

11. Snapdragon Chardonnay

12. Mirassou Pinot Noir

13. Stone Cellars Chardonnay

14. Trinity Oaks Pinot Noir (one of my favorites, thus far)

15. Snapdragon Pinot Grigio

16. Sutter Home Chardonnay

17. Sutter Home Pinot Grigio

18. Mezzacorona Pinot Grigio (YUM!)

19. Woodbridge Pinot Grigio

20. Gallo Sauvignon Blanc

21. Bogle Sauvignon Blanc (muy bien!)

22. Montevina Pinot Grigio (delicious)

23. King Shag Sauvignon Blanc (bought at Trader Joe's and I will be making more frequent trips just for this one!)

24. Five Rivers Pinot Grigio

25. Dancing Bull Sauvignon Blanc

These are heavy on the whites, I realize, but sometimes the reds launch me into a migraine, so I'm careful. I believe that there is enough winter left, however, to thoroughly enjoy a few more reds before I settle into some soft summer whites.

As for the shiny, happy news, I guess it affects me more than you. My PC finally drove us all to the edge of sanity (not a long drive, I realize) and we jumped to the Mac side of things. I am on a steep learning curve, and I'm not too crazy about seeing my own face in photos in high resolution, but otherwise, my beloved and I have been asking ourselves why we did not convert to Macs sooner. Possibly the only way this will affect you at all (unless you live in my house and you don't have to hear me curse at our PC) is that because I am in the blissful first stages of love, I may be posting more. I might end up just typing grocery lists and such on here just for the joy of using this thing.

I think my new baby needs a name. Any suggestions?

Not Just Yet

We are still waiting to hear from the nerds, geeks, dudeswhoaretakingforbloodyever amazingly intelligent and handsome and virile (wth? like I would know!) gentlemen who are working on my computer. They say it could just be the motherboard, in which case they will install a new one and give me back my computer while putting a dent in my checkbook. Or, they say it could be the hard drive, in which case I will beg with them (via my amazingly intelligent, handsome and virile [yeah, baby! I do know this one] husband) to save some of my important stuff, let them dent my checkbook, and then further dent my checkbook by purchasing a new machine. Or, they will say that my computer and my sewing machine have been having late-night, back-room meetings wherein they are planning a coup and that perhaps it would be in my best interest to go "off the grid," take on a new identity and start over.

Frankly, I am hoping for one of the first two, because while they would seriously deplete my bank account, they just seem like a lot less work. And right now I am too tired for anything that even remotely resembles work.

I have things to tell you and stories to share, but I don't have the computer time to do it right now. But when I have my computer back, I plan on sitting down with a big vat, barrel, bottle, goblet glass of wine and letting it all out.

Watch out y'all. You have been warned. (You should have at least until next week to get prepared and take on provisions, as the computer dudes will have my machine until the end of this week. Bummer.)