Let's Get Ugly

Yo, what up? Yeah, it's been a while since I wrote last, but that's just because I promised it would be.  And I keep my promises, or at least I do when the only action required is inaction.  If I'm honest, I've tried to write several blog posts in the interim, but I never felt 'inspired' enough to complete one.  Yep, lazy and rubbish. Quite the winning combination I've got going on.

In any case, here I am now to provide you with an exhilarating update of the thrilling saga that is my life. Not that my life isn't good - it truly is - but I'm not sure it makes for great reading. Actually, I'm pretty sure that it doesn't, and my largely-disused writing skills are unlikely to help.

Outside of work, which entails various things to do with the kitchen, office, and farm, I've been attempting to make my mark on my domicile. Frankly, I hadn't ever considered the amount of effort involved in essentially furnishing a home from scratch, to say nothing of the cost. Worse still is that I no longer like any of the furniture or decor I accumulated while I was in college. If you're anything like me, 'accumulated in college' is merely another way of saying 'useless crap'. (That may even apply to the degree that I accumulated in college, but I hope not...) From the $15 bookcases to the... um... well...  Okay, so it turns out that the only furniture I bought in college was cheap bookcases. And maybe a cheap computer chair. And I definitely don't like those anymore. Fortunately, I have generous relatives who very kindly provided me with some of the basics, and I've managed to gradually acquire most of the remaining essential items. (Except a kitchen. I still don't have a kitchen.) I was going to share some pictures with you, but it turns out that 1:00 in the morning isn't the best light for photography. You're in luck though, because I did get one before I abandoned the scheme entirely.

This is one of the dressers next to my bed (with its twin on the other side). It's the perfect height to serve as a nightstand as well, which is a welcome change after years of having a too-tall bookcase attempt to fill that role.

Alas, my walls remain largely bare. I have, of course, a clock or two in each room as required by my genetic programming, and two mirrors (one of which is pictured above), but very little apart from that. It's a good thing I didn't go with white walls, or it would start to feel very institutional up in here (though that may be appropriate, as I'm mostly crazy).

And now I suppose I should close. Even I'm getting bored.

(The Wanted)

Whispers in Blindness

Ah, so here I am again.  I feel like a relapsed Catholic at confession: "Blogger, forgive me, for I have sinned: it has been five months and thirteen days since my last post."  Fortunately, there aren't any admonitions in the Bible against neglecting one's blog.

In the many moons that have passed since I last graced you all with my online presence, absolutely nothing has happened in my life.  Either that or I can't remember any of it.  For my sake, I fervently hope it's the latter.  So rather than regale you with fascinating stories of my many adventures, I will whine.  Hey, I have to stick with what I know.

Here it is after midnight; Cinderella is crying in the garden beside her smashed pumpkin-coach, and I'm sitting at my computer in the office (in the basement of the center) because it is the only place I can access the internet.  Sadly, I seem to have developed somewhat of a dependency on the internet; if only there were others out there who suffer from the same affliction so I wouldn't have to go through this alone.  Anyway, my unique addiction aside, it would seem that the rather incredible display of thunder and lightning this afternoon has fried some of the networking equipment, rendering the internet inaccessible in most of the community.  Strangely enough, my heretofore-fantastic house has lost some of its attraction, albeit temporarily.  The trick in this situation is to accurately discern when the desire to sleep outweighs the desire to surf the 'net.  I suspect that the time shall be soon upon us, as my eyelids are beginning to droop ever-so-slightly.  Perhaps more telling is that this post appears to have lost the tenuous grasp it had on a point.  Oh well.  If I only posted my musings when they had a point, this blog would be even more bare than it already is.

While I'm on a roll, perhaps I should write the opening sentence for my next post: "Blogger, forgive me..."

(Ace of Base)

Dirty Laundry

Actually, my laundry is all clean now; it just needs to be put away.  So naturally, I decided to write a blog post to avoid it.  I even had great intentions of posting some pictures of my fantastic - albeit incomplete - new residence, but I just realized I left my camera over at Mop's and Pop's.  So much for that.  Someday, hopefully soon, I'll get some pictures taken and post them.  That requires me putting away some of the things I have strewn about though, so it could be a while...

Well, as I alluded to above, I finally moved in about three weeks ago.  I love the house, even without doors or a kitchen.  However, I've discovered that I'm quite reluctant to poke any holes in the walls until I'm completely certain where I want things.  Consequently, I haven't made much progress in putting up pictures, calendars, clocks, etc.

I should see a psychiatrist.

(Don Henley)

(Do You Get) Excited?

First things first: I've been a bad, bad blogger.  I went an entire month without posting.  In my defense though, I pretty much missed that month in my 'real' life too.  I still can't believe it's already August.  It's like the whole world is playing a cruel joke on me and pretending that the summer is almost over, when really it's the third week in June.  Stupid world.

Very well then, moving on...  I've discovered something interesting about the whole process of building a house: you get very excited about really small things.  Or at least I do (and I'm admittedly a poor yardstick for normal).  Today, for example, I got doorknobs in the mail - well, door levers to be precise - and it was pretty much the highlight of my week.  Rationally, I realize that they're only a small part of a much larger project, but it still makes me feel like I'm getting somewhere.  My other big moment this week was getting a light fixture on Wednesday, but that was somewhat tempered by the fact they only sent one and I'd ordered two.

So yeah, those are the momentous events in my life right now.  That ought to make you glad I haven't been blogging.

(Roxette)

The Waiting

I just had to fit in one more blog post for June.

Here I sit at the Center, waiting for the Sysco truck to arrive.  "Why are you over there at 6:00 in the morning?" you might be tempted to ask.  Well, this post will answer this question, which is clearly one of the most pressing questions of all time.

Our story begins several months ago, when our dear Sysco driver (toward whom I harbor no ill-will, ha ha ha) started coming at about 7:30 AM instead of 8:30 or 9:00 AM.  Well, being the extraordinarily wonderful person that I am, I started coming over earlier to meet him so I could write him a check.  And yet, I always seemed to miss him somehow.  After months of playing a losing game of tag, last month I thought, "Oh dash, I'll go over there at 6:30 and then I can't miss him."  I did.  He'd already been there when I got there.  HE CAME AT 5:FREAKING30!  As you can see, I've gotten over this completely.

Anyway, long story shor... um, long, I came over even earlier today and he hasn't been here.  I'm trying to mentally prepare myself for the possibility that he'll show up at 9:00, but it's not working.  The very thought makes me feel slightly homicidal.

(Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers)

Stop for a Minute

There are people in this world who seem to thrive under pressure.  No matter how much you put on their plate, so to speak, their reaction is to redouble their efforts and increase efficiency.

I am not one of those people.

In fact, if you know me, you probably already know that my reaction to stress is precisely the opposite.  My brain has developed a unique method of ensuring stress doesn't kill me: it forgets everything.  Oh sure, I'll say I can do something and mean it, but in a few hours, it's gone to wherever memories go to die.  Chances are you've experienced this phenomenon if you've asked me to do something, for which I'm somewhat sorry (but not profoundly).  It's quite likely that some frustrated person will kill me long before stress does.

We're now to the part of my post where I tell you that I don't really have a point.  The impetus behind this post is that we're going grocery shopping tomorrow, and since I've been feeling a little stressed lately, I have this gnawing feeling that I'm forgetting something vitally important.  I just love that feeling.  So I'll try to forget about it and post some pictures of the progress on my new domain. ;)

Since the last time I posted pictures of the house (in which post I used the phrase "and call it good" about six thousand times), I've made some significant changes to my plan.  For starters, I'm moving the 'kitchen'.

This, you may remember, is where the counter that comprised my 'kitchen' was.  As you can clearly see, it's no longer there.  That rather large hole in the wall is what happens when you've had a long day and you just don't give a rat's ass anymore.  (There needed to be a hole there at some point so I can remove the pipes; I just chose the Sledgehammer Method of sheetrock removal.)

This is the room that will become the kitchen.  The fridge has always been in this room, so it just seemed to make sense to turn the whole room into a kitchen and make the hallway less congested.

The second major alteration to my plan is that I will actually be getting carpet.  So we've spent the last week removing the old vinyl tile that was underneath the 'crapet' (carpet is too nice a term to apply to what was in this house), only to be told that we probably didn't actually need to do so.  That was a really great moment.  You'll notice in the next two pictures the naked floor, covered only in a thin layer of glue.  Incidentally, that glue is still sticky, even after the billion years that have passed since it was applied.

And here are the re-finished closets and the painted wood paneling in my bedroom.  I've picked out the style of trim that I want, but I haven't managed to get any yet.  It can be difficult getting supplies when you live several hundred miles from a home improvement store.

Finally, after we removed the toilet and Crystal pulled up the linoleum in the bathroom, we discovered this:

If only you could smell it through your computer screen.  It's really a very lovely scent.  You can also see the damaged walls by the tub.  The bathroom may very well need more work than I originally thought.  Yippee for that.

Anyway, I think I've chuntered on enough at this point, so I guess I'll call that good. ;)

(Keane)

Bend and Break

This has not been a good week to be an Ag-Bagger on EskDale Farms.

It all started on Monday, when our trusty old bagger engine decided it had had enough of life and blew a piston. (Or something. I'm not a mechanic, and I only understand about every third word when such things are being explained to me.) Now, I never thought I was particularly fond of this machine. After all, I've spent many, many, many hours standing next to it, the radiator fan gently tousling my hair (ha ha ha) and coating me in a thin layer of green dust. But now it's gone, and I find myself waxing nostalgic for the Good Ol' Days, when Old Craphole and I would just sit and talk about how the hay was jamming and she was being a difficult pile of doggie doodoo. Perhaps I'm going overboard. After all, a new engine has already been located and will (God willing) be installed next week. And all will be right with the world.

Anyhoo, back to my story. After the demise of the original bagger, we decided to pull out a bagger that the Bakers loaned us (apparently with the condition that if we ever returned it, relations between our two tribes would become exceptionally chilly) and give it a whirl. Well, this whirl became more of a deadly cyclone. Mechanical problems abounded, with the PTO constantly attempting to break free and fly with the birds, a ball bearing that no longer wanted to be spherical, and a chain that was always half a link from failure. Even better, this machine was incredibly slow. While we are usually able to do about five loads per hour, this bagger caused a precipitous decline in effeciency, and our rate dropped to TWO LOADS PER HOUR. And those were the good hours when we weren't trying to fix yet another mechanical failure. Sorry, I meant the good hour. As we neared completion on the bag, it became fairly clear that the machine wasn't going to last through another bag, so we began looking for another option.

Enter bagger #3. The kindly Bakers allowed us to borrow their 'backup machine', which is much the same design as the other bagger we have of theirs, only it works. Astonishing, eh? Or at least it worked. Turns out something was wrong with the U-joint on the PTO, which promptly became a steaming pile of metal pieces. Oopsy. On the plus side, when the joint is fixed and the bagger is once again operational, we will be able to resume a normal rate of 5+ loads per hour, because this bagger is much much faster.

Anyhoo, that's why I'm sitting here writing a blog post after 9:00, instead of driving my beautiful hay truck all over creation.  Hopefully we'll be able to go before all the hay turns to powder.

(Keane)

Paint

Well, even though it feels like I spend all of my free time working on the house (with much-appreciated help from Crystal), I don't have a large number of changes to report.

We've spent the large majority of our time in what will be my bedroom.  (I'm too tired to care if that sentence has a double meaning...)

Those two walls are the wood paneling, which the primer covered rather nicely.

Not sure you can see it as well as I'd like, but all of the wood around the closet and drawers has been stripped and sanded, which was very time consuming.  Also, the other two normal walls (not paneling) have been primed.

I don't have pictures of the work we did tonight, but we got all of the wood stained and varnished.  Tomorrow (hopefully), we'll do the second coat.  Then we'll paint the walls, get some moulding, and call it good.

I forgot to take pictures of the bathroom (I'm terrible at this whole photography thing, in case you didn't notice), but you're not missing much.  The pink/gold tile is gone, but everything else is basically the same at this point.

The only other project I've completed is replacing two light fixtures: the one in the bedroom and the one in the kitchen/hallway.  I might end up changing the bedroom one again.  I'm fickle.

(Roxette)

I Miss You

This post is really not germane to anything important or newsworthy, but I realized tonight that I miss the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes.  For a strip about a six-year-old boy and his stuffed tiger, it sure had some extraordinarily great lessons.

I'll leave you with one of them.

(Blink-182)

Brighten the Corner Where You Are

A little bit of pee on the floor goes a long way.

****RAMBLING COMPLAINT FOLLOWS****

I've decided that the house in which I currently reside is a perfect example of 'design by committee'.  At least I certainly hope it is.  If a solo person came up with the design, I question their sanity.  "What prompted this post?" you may ask, although I suspect you're more likely to ask "Why in the chocolate fountain should I care?!"  Well, you see, both of the bathrooms in this house have adjoining bedrooms.  I'm sure at the time, this seemed like an brilliant idea and a convenient option.  And to be honest, it is for the most part.  However, there are significant drawbacks that would prompt any rational person to consider at least having one standalone bathroom in a dwelling.  First (and foremost on my mind) is that, quite frequently, the residents of the adjoining bedrooms consider the bathroom to be an extension of their room.  They lock the publicly-accessible door (or at the very least keep it closed), denying access to all but the bravest of souls.  In a normal house, this isn't a problem.  Most likely, the bathroom actually IS an extension of the room and intended to be a private bathroom.  In this house, the private/public hybrid nature of the bathrooms often results in both bathrooms being annexed by the adjoining rooms at the same time.  If one needs to use the facilities in this situation, one is up Brown Creek with no means of propulsion.  Clearly, the solution here is to have a bathroom that has a clear 'public' designation.  Whether this would be best achieved by an additional bathroom or merely removing the adjoining door from one is less clear (I vote for the former).

The second problem I have with this design also results from the bathroom's identity crisis (I chose singular because the parents' bathroom appears to have resolved its question in favor of 'private'), but is from the perspective of a resident of one of the adjoining rooms.  (I'm going to attempt to not be too graphic, so if it seems I'm dancing around a subject, that would be why.)  As we all know, a bathroom is quite often not the most pleasant area in a house.  There are times when it is best to contain its unique ambiance within its four walls and use a fan to gradually modify the environment.  Well, let me tell you right now, a door is not nearly as effective a barrier as a wall when it comes to more ethereal contaminants.  Particularly a door with a 1.5" gap at the bottom.  The result is that when the atmosphere in the bathroom is unpleasant, the atmosphere in the adjoining bedroom can rapidly become equally unpleasant.  And there's no fan in the bedroom.

****END RAMBLING COMPLAINT****

Anyway, that's pretty much all I have to say about this subject for now.  Here's hoping I can finally brush my teeth and go to bed.  Sorry if this post crossed the proverbial line and offended your sensibilities.  But not too sorry.  No one is forcing you to read it.  (If they are, the code phrase is "CONED DARE".)

(Wallace Carlson)

Comfortable Liar

I have something to confess.  For all of you who think I'm a clean person, you're wrong.  I'm a horrible slob.  If you don't believe me, drop by my office tomorrow.

This happened.  That's the only explanation.

Actually, what happened was that my 10-second attention span struck again.  I started about seven projects today and only finished two.  Three if you count this blog post (I'm assuming I finished it if you're reading it).  So at the moment, most of the unfinished projects are on my desk.  I'm kinda tempted to go clean it up right now.  Fortunately for me, my OCD tendencies are offset by a big, fat streak o' lazy.  I like to lie to myself and say that makes me easier to live with, but really it just makes me lazy.

Here we are at the end.  If you were hoping for some grand moral to this story, I'm sorry to disappoint.  I'm only writing this post because I don't have my computer, and without my links, I never remember what sites I usually visit.  How pathetic is that?

(Chevelle)

Please Mr. Postman

After many, many, many, many, many years of neglect, the community mailbox was looking a little sad.  So last week, Crystal, Sharon, and I decided to spruce it up a little bit.  Okay, to be completely honest, this was spurred on by the annoyance of the names not being in alphabetical order, which every normal person has to understand.  (See what I did there with the redefining of normal?  It helps my self-esteem.)

Before: Note the missing dividers on the bottom shelf.  With no support, the shelf sagged until the dividers wouldn't stand up.  Oh, and those spots on the side are grime.  Ewwwwww.

After: We cleaned, restained, and varnished the wood.  Then I propped up the bottom shelf and installed a crossbar that will hopefully keep the shelf from drooping again.  Guess we'll see.

Now, not only are the names in alphabetical order, but the tags are a uniform size.  And they're laminated so they won't get all dirty and gross.  Again.

Here's a sorta-closeup for you.

I hope you are all sufficiently impressed by my astounding carpentry skills.  Just don't look too closely.

(The Carpenters. Well, one of the versions in any case.)

Whoomp! (There It Is)

My pink bathroom.  Isn't it just lovely?

Try to contain your jealousy.  (I don't have a picture of it, but the sink is pink too.)

In case you hadn't already heard, I'm going to be moving into Vera's old house.  If you don't believe in time travel, feel free to drop by for a visit.  I'll take you on a magical ride back to a time called the 1960s, when Johnson was president, the Beatles ruled the charts, bathroom fixtures were hideous, and wood paneling was groovy.  Or I should say, people thought it was.  It's not.  Fortunately, paint covers paneling, and there is a product that makes pink tubs white tubs, without the hassle and expense of replacing the tub (I imagine this is because there are thousands of these ghastly things across the country).  It may be a long and slow process, but I gradually hope to make the house feel more like mine.  I may even post some pictures here.

There, now I've left you with something to look forward to.  I'm such a generous person.

(Tag Team)

Breathe

That's what I'd really like to do.  Preferably unobstructed.

Spring is so beautiful, but all of the blooming plants spewing pollen into the air are wreaking havoc on my sinuses.  That, of course, interrupts my sleep schedule, and the resulting fog in my brain is what I'm blaming everything wrong with this post on.  For example, the fact that I can no longer remember what it was I was going to blog about.  Cripes, I'm just ending sentences with prepositions all over the place, aren't I?  And that reminds me of something James told me while I was in Arizona. 

A father of a little boy goes upstairs to read to his son before bedtime, but he brings the wrong book. The boy says, "What did you bring the book that I didn't want to be read to out of up for?"

Well I thought it was funny.  And it's my blog, so there.

I think I'd better go to bed.  My head feels like it's filled with meringue.

Peas ouch.

(Angels and Airwaves)

I'm Back

Home again, home again, jiggity jig.  Can't remember what that's from, but it sounded familiar.

This is going to be a short post (I see the skepticism in your eyes).  Yesterday was a long day, but we finally got to EskDale at about 8:30.  Our day was made longer by a strange thing that happened about an hour before we got to Page, AZ.  Right as an SUV passed us, there was a load 'pop' and Alex's left rear window suddenly shattered.  Let me just tell you how much fun it is to drive down the road with a missing window.  Fortunately, Page has a Walmart, so we stopped and got some supplies to create a redneck replacement window (cardboard and duct tape).  It isn't transparent, but it did the job.

On a happier note, I installed the new color laser printer last night (that's printer #2 from the earlier post), and it runs like a dream.  I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Anyway, I'd better go rejoin the workforce.  Someone has to pay for the lifestyle to which I have become accustomed.

(T.I)

All Good Things Come to an End

And my stay in Maricopa is no exception.  Alex and I will be leaving at around 7:00 tomorrow morning.  Or at least that's the plan.  Since the earliest that we've been waking up is about 9:00, there is a slight possibility that we might get out of here a little bit later than that.  Only time will tell.  (Anyone else have Nelson in their head now?)  Whatever the time we leave, I expect that my blog posts will experience a precipitous decline in frequency after tonight.  Once I resume my regularly-scheduled programming, there is little likelihood of three posts in a month, let alone a day.

Stop cheering, jerk.

Last night, my cousin Titus took Alex and me out to dinner and a movie.  (He says we're cheap dates.)  Dinner was fantastic.  He took us to YC's Mongolian Grill, and the food was fan... excellent.  It's a sort of "build your own stir-fry" place, where you take whatever vegetables and meats you want, pile them as high as you possibly can into a bowl, create your own sauce from the various ingredients, hand it to the cooks, and they fry it right there in front of you in a matter of minutes.  Very delicious and probably pretty healthful, at least until you add in an ice cream cone for dessert.  Also, as I discovered, very hot.  After they put your food back into the bowl, it steams about as much as the cooling tower on a nuclear power plant.  Even after the steam seems to have mostly dissipated, every bite releases more heat trapped in the food.  It's very important to sufficiently cool off each forkful (or chopstick-full, depending on how adventurous you are) before putting it in your mouth, or the resulting burns on your tongue and the roof of your mouth will hurt like a mofo for at least the next day (I can't yet say when the pain goes away).  But the food was still worth it.

Anyhoo, after dinner we watched "Clash of the Titans", a remake of some old movie I've never seen, so I didn't get any of the references made to it.  While somewhat entertaining, it's not a movie I'm likely to ever watch again.  The most amusing part was the post-movie analysis from Titus and Alex.  As you might expect from a 90-minute action film, the "plot" was - shall we say - less than developed.  Plus there were some moments that were just plain unbelievable, even for a film about mythological Greek gods.  But since this isn't really a movie review (2 stars; A "can-miss!"), that's all I have to say about that. (Yay, lame Forrest Gump reference!)

And that's it: my final post from Maricopa.  Unless of course I write another one at 1:00 in the morning, or wake up early and need something to do.  But most likely, it's the last one.  So, I bid you adieu until next time, which will probably be May.

STOP THAT!

(Nelly Furtado & Chris Martin)

Help Me

or "Cancel Print Job?"

I have issues, and I'm not referring to my ever-so-slight OCD tendencies.  At least not right now.  No, today I'm talking about my apparent inability to tell myself 'no'.  The trouble is that whether or not anybody else finds me convincing, I do.

In case you're wondering what inspired this post, I bought a printer.  Not so bad, right?  But what if I tell you it's the second printer I've bought in about two weeks.  And the third printer in the past six months.  Why do I need three printers, one might be tempted to ask.  The answer, of course, is I don't.  But they were such good deals I just had to get them!  Didn't I?

The first printer I bought around Black Friday last november, and it's the only purchase I actually regret.  It's an HP OfficeJet 6000 - a plain old inkjet - and I very rarely use it.  But it was cheap and had built-in duplexing (Ooo, duplexing!), so I bought it.  The second printer is a beautiful color laser, the Samsung CLP-620ND.  I have yet to see mine, but I've looked at its twin at OfficeMax.  I love it.  It prints at about 20 ppm and has auto-duplexing (that's a big selling feature for me, in case you hadn't noticed).  Better yet, I got it on an incredible sale and paid half of what it's currently selling for.  And I think dad is going to buy it, so that one hardly counts at all.  I hope.  Finally, we come to the third printer, the HP OfficeJet 7000.  Yes, I know that seems remarkably similar to the first printer, and in many ways it is.  It's a regular inkjet.  It doesn't scan, copy, or fax, and it doesn't have auto-duplexing.  But it prints page sizes up to 13"x19".  Borderless.  Dad doesn't know this yet, but he might buy this one too.  I'm hoping it will be perfect for printing event posters and things like that, where something larger than 8.5"x11" might be nice.  I'm not going to tell you what I paid for each of these printers, but I will tell you that I paid less than $370 for the three of them together.  And I didn't pay a penny for shipping on any of them.  And I got 3% cashback on the Samsung and 10% cashback on the most recent purchase.

So you tell me: am I convincing?  I certainly seem to think so.  If you agree, I might be able to get you a really good deal on a lightly-used OfficeJet 6000.

(Alkaline Trio)

Shut Up

Shut up, just shut up, shut up...  Just thought I'd begin with a Black Eyed Peas song that would speak to how we're all feeling right now.  But apparently, the three-week fast from blogging left me with a desire to gorge myself upon the wonderful buffet before me.  And as everyone knows, when you stuff your face after not eating for awhile, unpleasant consequences can arise - AKA I have diarrhea of the mouth.

Anyhoo, moving away from metaphors relating to gross bodily funcitons, let's talk about inspiration.  I haven't got any.  Well that was a short conversation.

Lemme explain.  No, there is too much.  Lemme sum up.  Shavuot is in about 5-6 weeks, and I have had approximately zero ideas about the decor for the feast meals.  ('Decor' needs the little accent thingy, but I don't feel like trying to figure out which ALT+ key combination makes it.)  I was hoping that my little excursion to Arizona would inspire a flood of ideas, but so far the only idea I've had is that I really like calla lilies, even if they don't survive the Arizona summers.  At first glance, it may appear that I actually have plenty of time.  But when it comes to "creative" things, I can never have enough.  This is because my creativity is notoriously unreliable; it tends to go on vacation just when I need it most.  Then I end up rushing to get things done in time because I didn't have any ideas until the night before (this is a common theme in many areas of my life).  It's as if my genetic code forbids my brain to exert any energy on specific tasks unless the available time drops below a certain point.  Fortunately, these procrastination genes (I think they come from my father) include a marvelous gift in the form of "last-minute panic".  It's often the only reason I get anything done.

Consider this your warning that you might come to Shavuot and find the same decorations from last year.

Cripes, that was me "summing up"?  Imagine how awful the full explanation would be.

(Black Eyed Peas)

Say "Aah"

Or "AAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUGH!!", which would be a perfectly normal reaction upon seeing I have written TWO posts in one night/morning.  Apparently I have too much to write about to be confined to one itsy-bitsy 7000-word post.  So here comes another.  Ha, just kidding.  I'll limit this one to a maximum of 5000 words.

And now onto another exciting episode of "A Day in the Life of Kenneth", or "Shoot Me Now" as it is colloquially known.  Prepare to be astonished by my wisdom or the lack thereof.

A point of order before I launch into my story: "today" is yesterday, not today.  The day changed at midnight officially, but I'm still awake and therefore it's still "today".  If that's not perfectly clear, then one of us is stupid.  No comments about which one of us that might be, although in my defense, it is either really late or really early, either of which seems like an excellent excuse for reduced brain function.

After James left this afternoon (that's "today"), Alex and I headed to McDonald's to join the millions of other Americans who blame Ronald for our obesity.  Yay for transferring blame!  Anyhoo, after our delicious low-calorie health food and the subsequent regret, we thought we'd go to the best place to shake off those pesky feelings that one is unattractive and overweight: the mall!  As you all probably know, most of the stores in malls cater to two basic types of people: thin and gorgeous, and thinner and gorgeous-er.  Thus, as we wandered around the mall looking for the food court (SHUT UP! Alex was low!), we couldn't help but notice that there appeared to be only two types of people patronizing the mall stores.  The thin and gorgeous, as you may expect, were everywhere, flaunting their thinness and gorgeousness and basking in the neon lights of stores made just for their skinny butts.  But if you think that the other group was the thinner and the gorgeous-er, think again.  It was precisely the opposite.  Now, being the resident of a particularly fragile dwelling, I hate to toss around large rocks, but some of these people would have looked upon Quasimodo with aspirations and jealousy.  This got me wondering: if one accepts the premise that only two types of people frequent malls - and one must, for my logic is undeniable - then to which group does one belong?

The answer did not make one happy, so one has determined to no longer frequent malls.  It was either that or admit that one might be wrong, and one really hates doing that.  Or, a third option that one has just now thought of: the allowance of an 'observer' group that is neither thin and gorgeous nor fat and ugly, but instead goes to the mall merely to observe the other two groups in their unnatural environment.

One is satisfied.  Perhaps one shall have ice cream.

(Trey Songz)

I Like

Yay for me!  I've managed to go three weeks without having one bloggable event happen in my life.  Okay, so that's not quite true; I just haven't actually blogged about anything that's happened.  I'm a bad, bad blogger. :)

As I type, I'm sitting in my uncle James' house in Maricopa, AZ (pronounced "Mary-COPE-uh" by normal people, and "Muh-RIH-coh-puh" by me because I suffer from brain damage).  I decided to tag along with Alex (pronounced "Al-icks" by normals and "Al-eeeks" by brain-damaged me) when he returned home after coming up to EskDale for Pesach last weekend.  (I feel this is as good a point as any to warn you that I didn't have an outline of where I wanted this post to go when I started, so we can all be confused by the lack of direction together.)  When we left EskDale, the weather was doing its best imitation of mid-December Anchorage - and being very convincing I might add.  From what I gleaned from the Facebook statuses of the poor souls left behind, it only got worse after our departure, with an onslaught of as high winds and hell – er, I mean hail.  Maricopa, on the other hand, is enjoying its Spring season, characterized by warm temperatures and sunshine: the perfect time to do some yard work, should we choose to entertain the notion that such a time actually exists.  After debating whether to go to the Dumb Hippo (Home Depot) or Wool's Prome Imhoovement (Lowe's Home Improvement), Alex and I set off to buy some of the necessary supplies to install a drip system.  (Those nicknames are Alex's doing; as you can see, I'm not the only brain damaged one.)  As we're both impulse buyers, the extensive selection of flowering plants at the Lowe's nursery called to us, and we planned to buy some flowers for the rather barren yard.  We're both geniuses who would never be lulled into forgetting the blazing Arizona summer by the perfect Arizona spring, so we naturally selected two plants that are genetically engineered to withstand extremely high temperatures without withering: calla lilies and geraniums.  (In case you either don't know me or are completely daft, that's sarcasm.)  Alex is determined to keep the lilies alive until June, and I wish him the best in his all-but-impossible task.  We did get the drip system installed - and I use the term 'we' very liberally here: Alex was very lazy and barely helped at all while I slaved away.  (I trust no sarcasm disclaimer is necessary here.)  All 'we' need to do now is fill in the trenches in the back yard, and the work will be all done.  I think I'll let Alex handle that since he needs to put more 'sweat equity' into his home or some other lazy copout reason.

Anyhoo, I'll be heading back north on Tuesday to rejoin the Esquimaux tribe up at EskDale.  I sincerely hope the weather has improved, because now that I've gotten used to spring, I don't want to go back to winter.  Also, you'll have to forgive me if my speech is a bit fouled up.  The non-native population of this area with which I have been spending time has some most peculiar linguistic patterns.

Nude guyt, and nave a dice hay mootorrow.  Or mater lis thorning, as nit is ow clun ewok tocal lime.

(Keri Hilson)