Ohhhhh, I hab da allergies today. Dey are ib my dose, dey are ib my froat, dey are ib my sinuses. Soooo bad. Sniff. But I am a good employ-dee, so I came to work anyway. Sniff. My dose runs like a faucet. I thought adout stuffing da kleenex right ub both nostrils, but I didn't fink my co-workers would appreciate dat. I'm sure dey prefer da constant sniffing instead. And da sneezing. Sniff. And da watery eyes. Sniff.
And my dose? When I blow it, my sinuses make dis high-pidched screaming sound like "EEEEEEEEE" as de pressure moobes around my head. Other people cab hear it too. Very embarrassing. Sniff. My dose is all red and swollen. And I useb all my tissues already. And all my co-workers tissues. Sniff. And da roll of toi-det paper. Doeses do not like toi-det paper at all.
Sniff.
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7/16/07
All Hail Satellite TV
So I'm sure that you're all dying to know about Tony's satellite overindulgences. It was actually touch and go there for a little while. DishNetwork informed us that they would be there sometime between noon and 5, which was fine. Tony waited patiently like a kid before Christmas, which is to say, not at all. He paced, he checked his watch, he kept his nose glued to the front window. And at 1:30, he yelled "there they are!" and raced out of the house before the satellite van could even pull to a complete stop. Satellite guy tossed his ladder up against the house, climbed two stories up in the air like it was nothing, and attached our brand new satellite to our house. And that's when we hit the first snag. It seems that usual satellite installation procedure is to run the wire from the satellite to the cable box via the gutter system. Our gutters, however, didn't run over to the cable box. Also, our cable box was next to our power lines, which satellite guy was absolutely not allowed to get close to, for fear of being electrocuted to a crispy critter. (I didn't think that electrocution was such a major sacrifice in exchange fore giving us satellite, but he was insistent. Absolutely NO getting next to the power lines). His solution was to bypass the gutters and power lines and just run his wires right across our siding, which let me tell you, would just be c-l-a-s-s-y! No dice on that one. I'm not having a giant wire run the width of my house across the front of my siding. Tony asked if satellite guy had run across this before, and the guy shrugged and said sure, but other people usually just decided not to get the satellite rather than drape wires all over their house. If it had just been me, I would have joined those people, but Tony's face was so despondent at the very idea that I just couldn't do that to him. We all stood around the side of the house and pondered. It was actually Tony, sensing his precious satellite slipping away from him, that came up with the winning idea. Why couldn't we run the wire down the gutter to the ground, through the flower bed along the side of the house, and back up the other side, approaching the cable box from below, and thus, avoiding the power lines? Satellite guy though about it. Yep, that could work. Hooray! The satellite is saved! Hooray! With the crisis averted, I went back inside the house, and satellite guy began to very carefully maneuver his very through my very thorny rose bushes.
The second snag happened about a half hour later. Satellite guy informed Tony that the cable wire that they used for our house wasn't used anymore. He had to get his special cable converter thingie to fix it. Then they couldn't find the main cable line (I say they because when I came down a couple hours later, both the satellite guy and Tony were crawling around under the house with flashlights), then whoever wired up our house originally apparently did a crazy job of it, and wires were spliced off everywhere, and satellite guy was just sure that this would never work. Nevertheless, they installed everything, held their breaths, crossed their fingers, and hit the power button. The satellite configured for a moment, and just when they were sure that it hadn't worked after all, the weather channel popped up. Hooray! It works! Hooray! We have satellite! Satellite guy just kept shaking his head and saying things like, "Well, I don't know how it's working, but it's working. You have a very strong signal". (My guess is that the signal strength is based on Tony's sheer will for it to work). And it only took a mere 5 and a half hours to install it. Satellite guy left at 7pm, (which was good because I was wondering if we were going to have to invite him to stay for the night) and Tony did his happy dance as he flipped through his brand new 200 channels. ("Look sweetie! A channel dedicated solely to Modern Zimbabwean Hip-hop reggae! And here is it in Spanish too!")
There is a down side to satellite though. Even though Tony gets all the sports stations from across the country, the teams can apparently choose to black out the games for anyone not in their particular region (Why, I don't know...you'd think that they'd want fans everywhere, but no). So Tony got to watch all the Chicago commercials, and all of the Chicago pre-game talk, and all the Chicago post-game talk, but not the actual game itself. Much weeping and gnashing of teeth over that one. It seems that having Fox Sports Chicago doesn't actually do us much good when it comes to watching actual baseball games. (Tony is starting an anti-blackout campaign. Write your congressman! Write your local stations! Write your teams! Express your outrage over blacking out baseball games!) Don't feel too bad for Tony though. He still gets about 80 other non-blacked out sports stations to choose from, and he'll get all the football and hockey games. So he's far from pitiful.
How do I like satellite? I don't know. I have to re-learn all the channels of my favorite stations. (Although I do know that Modern Zimbabwean Hip-hop reggae, the Spanish version, is on channel 9948). Other than that, I have no idea how to work it yet. They gave us complicated new remotes, which include buttons that do things like pause live TV, reconfigure the satellite to automatically spy on Canada, and trigger a nuclear war with Greenland. (What I can't figure out is how to turn the blasted TV off. Right now I'm just getting my lazy butt off the couch, walking over to the TV and hitting the power button on it). Every other person in the house, however, especially ones who have no desire to turn the TV off EVER AGAIN, are in 7th Heaven. Tony's actual words yesterday: "This is the best thing that's happened to me since we got married". This man obviously really loves his TV. All hail the satellite dish!
The second snag happened about a half hour later. Satellite guy informed Tony that the cable wire that they used for our house wasn't used anymore. He had to get his special cable converter thingie to fix it. Then they couldn't find the main cable line (I say they because when I came down a couple hours later, both the satellite guy and Tony were crawling around under the house with flashlights), then whoever wired up our house originally apparently did a crazy job of it, and wires were spliced off everywhere, and satellite guy was just sure that this would never work. Nevertheless, they installed everything, held their breaths, crossed their fingers, and hit the power button. The satellite configured for a moment, and just when they were sure that it hadn't worked after all, the weather channel popped up. Hooray! It works! Hooray! We have satellite! Satellite guy just kept shaking his head and saying things like, "Well, I don't know how it's working, but it's working. You have a very strong signal". (My guess is that the signal strength is based on Tony's sheer will for it to work). And it only took a mere 5 and a half hours to install it. Satellite guy left at 7pm, (which was good because I was wondering if we were going to have to invite him to stay for the night) and Tony did his happy dance as he flipped through his brand new 200 channels. ("Look sweetie! A channel dedicated solely to Modern Zimbabwean Hip-hop reggae! And here is it in Spanish too!")
There is a down side to satellite though. Even though Tony gets all the sports stations from across the country, the teams can apparently choose to black out the games for anyone not in their particular region (Why, I don't know...you'd think that they'd want fans everywhere, but no). So Tony got to watch all the Chicago commercials, and all of the Chicago pre-game talk, and all the Chicago post-game talk, but not the actual game itself. Much weeping and gnashing of teeth over that one. It seems that having Fox Sports Chicago doesn't actually do us much good when it comes to watching actual baseball games. (Tony is starting an anti-blackout campaign. Write your congressman! Write your local stations! Write your teams! Express your outrage over blacking out baseball games!) Don't feel too bad for Tony though. He still gets about 80 other non-blacked out sports stations to choose from, and he'll get all the football and hockey games. So he's far from pitiful.
How do I like satellite? I don't know. I have to re-learn all the channels of my favorite stations. (Although I do know that Modern Zimbabwean Hip-hop reggae, the Spanish version, is on channel 9948). Other than that, I have no idea how to work it yet. They gave us complicated new remotes, which include buttons that do things like pause live TV, reconfigure the satellite to automatically spy on Canada, and trigger a nuclear war with Greenland. (What I can't figure out is how to turn the blasted TV off. Right now I'm just getting my lazy butt off the couch, walking over to the TV and hitting the power button on it). Every other person in the house, however, especially ones who have no desire to turn the TV off EVER AGAIN, are in 7th Heaven. Tony's actual words yesterday: "This is the best thing that's happened to me since we got married". This man obviously really loves his TV. All hail the satellite dish!
7/15/07
Quirky Project: Installing Vinyl Tile
I’m trying something new here in the world of Quirk. I’m calling it Quirky Projects, and it’s all about the projects that I’m doing around the house, only now I’m writing them down with easy step-by-step instructions and hints so that you can follow along at home if you wish. Think of it as a HGTV kind of thing, only I’m in no means a professional, so I probably went through the same questions and mistakes that you’ll have, and I can warn you about anything snarfy. (Yes, I made that word up). Anyway, on to the show:
We have a closet in the office where Mason and Dixon’s royal toilets are housed. (I call it the water-less closet, cause you know, it’s a closet, and the litter boxes are there…never mind). Anyway, even through we had all the carpet areas around the litter boxes covered with wee-wee pads, there were occasional accidents, and the carpet in the closet was beginning to suffer for it. Something had to be done, and quickly, before the entire office was permeated with au de cat pee. (Not a popular scent according to the Yankee Candle R&D department). So Tony and I do what we always do when something needs fixing…we went to Lowes. Lowes has a lovely selection of vinyl floor tiles and sheets of the bathroom-ish variety, with signs above them that just scream things like "Easy to clean!" and "waterproof!" and "Easy to install!" (Which is exactly what you want to see when you can’t stand the thought of scrubbing another section of carpet with Oops! Pet Stain Eliminator). We picked tiles because they’re easier to installer in small spaces than a 12’ sheet. Our particular pattern looks like a parquet floor, which not only looks classy, but avoids that whole "closet that looks like a bathroom floor" thing. If you’re looking to replace some carpet with some vinyl floor tiles, feel free to follow these easy step-by-step instructions that I have provided. If you aren’t, read it anyway (because you never know what will end up on final Jeopardy).
Quirky Project: Take kitty’s litter box closet from "EWWW!" to "OOOH! AHHH!"
Quirky Time: Depends on the size of the room, but it took me about 2 hours from material pickup to completion.
Quirky Level of Difficulty: Your baby brother could do it*.
Steps:
1. Remove that oh-so-stinky carpet. This can be done by grabbing a corner with a pair of needle nose piers and lifting gently. Chances are, your carpet is held in place around the edges by tack boards and/or the occasional staple. Remove carpet and carpet pad and staples and tack board. (Tack board can be removed by a strategically placed crow bar and a few hammer taps. A great way to work off any pent up aggression…just don’t step on the tack boards, or you’ll have more aggression than you know what to do with…that, and tetanus).
2. Inspect sub floor. You probably either have concrete or plywood. You’re looking for any cracks, water damage, mold, crazy-bad warping or unidentified bodies. If you have any of the aforementioned, you may need to replace it totally, or fix it with special chemically stuff that the sell in the flooring department. Go see them, since replacing sub-flooring isn’t part of this particular project.
3. Vacuum or sweep sub-floor to get rid of all the loose carpet fiber bits and cat litter, which yes, has even managed to get below the carpet onto the sub-floor. This stuff gets EVERYWHERE!
5. Plan out how you want to lay your tiles. Graph paper = very good. The idea is that you want to plan it out in such a way that you aren’t having to cut a bunch of tiles a quarter inch wide because you have this funky sized strip of floor left exposed. It also shows you exactly how many tiles you’ll need. Play around with it on paper because once you have an actual tile stuck to the floor, there’s no going back.
6. Peel paper backing off of tile and lay onto floor. The glue is really really strong, so don’t press on it until you have it exactly where you want it. Think of placing stickers on a piece of paper…once you press down, there’s no wiggling it into another position. The tile people recommend that you start in the center and work towards the wall. Repeat with the next tile, getting the tiles as close together as possible for cute little nearly invisible seams. You get the idea.
8. Cut tiles to size around wall edges. This sounds scarier than it is. Just measure how big you need it to be, then cut with either a utility knife or a sharp pair of scissors. (I used scissors, cause I’m just old school like that, and there’s less chance of cutting off my own finger by accident).
10. Apply seam sealer to seams. The hardest thing about this is remembering which seams you’ve done and which ones you still have left, because the stuff is clear. It dries pretty quickly too. Oh, and ventilate, because it has a high potency, kill-all-your-brain-cells-deader-than-dead smell. The teenage glue-sniffer druggies four blocks down will be able to smell this stuff when you put it on. My closet is only about 12 square feet total, and I still probably lost enough brain cells to ruin any chances of ever working for NASA. You may want to take a couple of fresh air breaks if you’re doing a bigger room…otherwise you’re going to be high as a kite and dancing naked through your neighborhood. (And you know that the gossipy old lady next door would never let anybody forget about it…ever).
11. Lastly, add transition bar for going from carpet to tile. We used oak, since it went with our wood-looking floor, but they have metal ones too. Just cut to size and screw into place to keep your carpet and tile in place and behaving.
P.S.- I didn’t mention removing the baseboards and moving them down because we’re just going to put a little quarter round around the bottom to cover that gap. (Yes, I’m lazy. So what? A little quarter round is so much easier that prying old baseboards off). You can also do quarter round, or remove and replace baseboards…your choice.
So there you go, vinyl tile in 11 easy steps. (I wanted it to be 10 easy steps, but I just couldn’t eliminate one, so you’re stuck with 11…this is why I’m not a professional). See my lovely before and after pictures?
Before, (post carpet) lovely sub-floor. Next, laying the tiles. Then: Ta-da!
We have a closet in the office where Mason and Dixon’s royal toilets are housed. (I call it the water-less closet, cause you know, it’s a closet, and the litter boxes are there…never mind). Anyway, even through we had all the carpet areas around the litter boxes covered with wee-wee pads, there were occasional accidents, and the carpet in the closet was beginning to suffer for it. Something had to be done, and quickly, before the entire office was permeated with au de cat pee. (Not a popular scent according to the Yankee Candle R&D department). So Tony and I do what we always do when something needs fixing…we went to Lowes. Lowes has a lovely selection of vinyl floor tiles and sheets of the bathroom-ish variety, with signs above them that just scream things like "Easy to clean!" and "waterproof!" and "Easy to install!" (Which is exactly what you want to see when you can’t stand the thought of scrubbing another section of carpet with Oops! Pet Stain Eliminator). We picked tiles because they’re easier to installer in small spaces than a 12’ sheet. Our particular pattern looks like a parquet floor, which not only looks classy, but avoids that whole "closet that looks like a bathroom floor" thing. If you’re looking to replace some carpet with some vinyl floor tiles, feel free to follow these easy step-by-step instructions that I have provided. If you aren’t, read it anyway (because you never know what will end up on final Jeopardy).
Quirky Project: Take kitty’s litter box closet from "EWWW!" to "OOOH! AHHH!"
Quirky Time: Depends on the size of the room, but it took me about 2 hours from material pickup to completion.
Quirky Level of Difficulty: Your baby brother could do it*.
Steps:
1. Remove that oh-so-stinky carpet. This can be done by grabbing a corner with a pair of needle nose piers and lifting gently. Chances are, your carpet is held in place around the edges by tack boards and/or the occasional staple. Remove carpet and carpet pad and staples and tack board. (Tack board can be removed by a strategically placed crow bar and a few hammer taps. A great way to work off any pent up aggression…just don’t step on the tack boards, or you’ll have more aggression than you know what to do with…that, and tetanus).
2. Inspect sub floor. You probably either have concrete or plywood. You’re looking for any cracks, water damage, mold, crazy-bad warping or unidentified bodies. If you have any of the aforementioned, you may need to replace it totally, or fix it with special chemically stuff that the sell in the flooring department. Go see them, since replacing sub-flooring isn’t part of this particular project.
3. Vacuum or sweep sub-floor to get rid of all the loose carpet fiber bits and cat litter, which yes, has even managed to get below the carpet onto the sub-floor. This stuff gets EVERYWHERE!
4. Prime your sub-floor. We used Henry 336 Bond Enhancer Self-stick tile primer. It looks like skim milk, so you’ll need a brush or paint roller. (I used a roller). Dump it on, spread it around, and let the plywood sub-floor absorb it. Mine was apparently very thirsty, because it kept absorbing it. Let dry. Mine took about an hour.
5. Plan out how you want to lay your tiles. Graph paper = very good. The idea is that you want to plan it out in such a way that you aren’t having to cut a bunch of tiles a quarter inch wide because you have this funky sized strip of floor left exposed. It also shows you exactly how many tiles you’ll need. Play around with it on paper because once you have an actual tile stuck to the floor, there’s no going back.
6. Peel paper backing off of tile and lay onto floor. The glue is really really strong, so don’t press on it until you have it exactly where you want it. Think of placing stickers on a piece of paper…once you press down, there’s no wiggling it into another position. The tile people recommend that you start in the center and work towards the wall. Repeat with the next tile, getting the tiles as close together as possible for cute little nearly invisible seams. You get the idea.
7. You want to press the tile down for complete tile to floor contact once you’ve gotten it in place. For big rooms, you can rent a floor roller. For kitty closets, I found a rolling pin worked fine.
8. Cut tiles to size around wall edges. This sounds scarier than it is. Just measure how big you need it to be, then cut with either a utility knife or a sharp pair of scissors. (I used scissors, cause I’m just old school like that, and there’s less chance of cutting off my own finger by accident).
9. When all the tiles have been placed and rolled down, stand back and admire your beautiful work. I strongly recommend getting a seam sealer if there’s going to be any chance of dirt or moisture on your new floor, and unless you live in a sterile bubble, I’m guessing there will be. We used Armstrong Low Gloss S-564 Seam Coating Kit. It came with 3 bottles and a tube of "stuff", which looks serious. Again, looks scarier than it really is. The tube of stuff is a seam cleaner, which you’ll want to use even if you just laid the floor, because even new tiles are dirty. The two glass bottles get mixed together to make your solution (think of a home hair dye kit…same kind of thing, only I wouldn’t put this stuff on your head). The last bottle is the applicator bottle for precision application. (Duh Alert: If you’re following the kit instructions, it tells you to clip off the tip of the applicator bottle. What it doesn’t tell you is that the bottle has a cap on it, so it you’re clipping off bits of white plastic, you’re actually clipping a hole in the cap. If you pull the cap off, then you’ll see the clear plastic tube that is the REAL applicator tip. Don’t ask me how I know that…just suffice it to say that my cap also has a little hole in it).
10. Apply seam sealer to seams. The hardest thing about this is remembering which seams you’ve done and which ones you still have left, because the stuff is clear. It dries pretty quickly too. Oh, and ventilate, because it has a high potency, kill-all-your-brain-cells-deader-than-dead smell. The teenage glue-sniffer druggies four blocks down will be able to smell this stuff when you put it on. My closet is only about 12 square feet total, and I still probably lost enough brain cells to ruin any chances of ever working for NASA. You may want to take a couple of fresh air breaks if you’re doing a bigger room…otherwise you’re going to be high as a kite and dancing naked through your neighborhood. (And you know that the gossipy old lady next door would never let anybody forget about it…ever).
11. Lastly, add transition bar for going from carpet to tile. We used oak, since it went with our wood-looking floor, but they have metal ones too. Just cut to size and screw into place to keep your carpet and tile in place and behaving.
P.S.- I didn’t mention removing the baseboards and moving them down because we’re just going to put a little quarter round around the bottom to cover that gap. (Yes, I’m lazy. So what? A little quarter round is so much easier that prying old baseboards off). You can also do quarter round, or remove and replace baseboards…your choice.
So there you go, vinyl tile in 11 easy steps. (I wanted it to be 10 easy steps, but I just couldn’t eliminate one, so you’re stuck with 11…this is why I’m not a professional). See my lovely before and after pictures?
Before, (post carpet) lovely sub-floor. Next, laying the tiles. Then: Ta-da!*By the way, let me just say again that I’m not a pro, so don’t sue me if you try it and it doesn’t work out. I’m just telling you how I did it…you’re responsible for your own successes and failures. (Although leave a comment and let me know if you had success with this, so that I can at least claim partial credit for your brilliance).
7/12/07 Because Piercings are Forever
Last night was my weekly pilgrimage to walmart. (We usually go once or twice a week to pay homage to the low low prices). I was in the jewelry section, looking at a display of jewelry cleaner that would hopefully restore the shine to my silver without eating giant holes in it, when a lovely young couple approached the jewelry counter. (Normally, I wouldn't have paid any attention, but they stopped directly in front of the cleaner display in order to talk to the woman at the counter, so my brand by brand comparison was temporarily suspended). Anyway, this particular couple appeared to be early 20's, and had the distinction of being completely (and I mean completely) covered in tattoos and piercings. (Obviously followers of an alternative genre, looking to express their individuality and/or socio-political views. To each their own, I say). And since they were standing directly in front of all my potential bottles of cleaner, I got to overhear every word of their conversation to the lady at the jewelry counter. It appears that the happy couple had recently gotten engaged, and were looking for matching wedding piercings to profess their undying love. Yes, I said piercings. Not rings. Piercings. They were looking for "classy" matching piercings (because when I think of classy engagement piercings, I think of walmart). The piercings were for an as yet unnamed body part, and considering all the usual visible places were already filled, I shudder to think where else one can pierce to show eternal devotion for a loved one. I'll give the lady behind the counter credit. She listened with a completely straight face. She showed them all the usual assortments of bars and studs and hoops and chains while mentioning things like, "This one is a 14 karat gold plate with a turquoise inlay around the end of the barbell". The couple wanted to know if engraving was available. Surprisingly, it is. (Obviously walmart has decided that the niche market for engraved engagement body piercings is a good one). And so the blissful couple, having eyes only for each other and completely ignoring the woman behind them juggling 6 different types of jewelry cleaner, arranged to have their matching classy engagement piercings engraved and put on layaway. Love knows no boundaries.
7/11/07
Rain
It hasn’t rained here in weeks. Not significantly. We’ve been in a horrible drought for more than a month. Just ask my tomato plants, who are wilted and droopy no matter how much water I pour over them. Everything in my garden is droopy. My rain barrels have been empty for the past few weeks. My yard is brown. We have a deficit of more than 12 inches. The irony that Texas and Arkansas are flooding right now does not escape me. I need it to rain here. So I wait. And wait. There is no rain. The good news is that I was able to waterproof my deck during all this dry weather. The sealer suggests 24-48 hours with no rain so that the sealant can soak in and dry on the wood. I sealed my deck Sunday afternoon, so I was not surprised to hear the sound while sitting on my screened in porch tonight.
Drip. Drip.
I didn’t even hear it coming before that. There was no thunder, no heat lightening like all the days previously. All show, but no rain. But tonight, there were exactly 2 drops of rain to signal the beginning, and then the deluge started. The sealant had roughly 33 hours to dry. I hope that’s enough. The rain comes down in sheets. The sound of it hitting the roof is so loud that Tony and I have to yell to each other to be heard. Tony goes in, but I stand on the porch, listening to the sound. Rain smells so good. I watch the water drip off of the tomato plants. I imagine it rushing into the rain barrels. And I laugh. Finally, the wait is over. And if any of my neighbors happen to look out their windows, they would see me, laughing and yelling and dancing in circles, celebrating the rain.
Drip. Drip.
I didn’t even hear it coming before that. There was no thunder, no heat lightening like all the days previously. All show, but no rain. But tonight, there were exactly 2 drops of rain to signal the beginning, and then the deluge started. The sealant had roughly 33 hours to dry. I hope that’s enough. The rain comes down in sheets. The sound of it hitting the roof is so loud that Tony and I have to yell to each other to be heard. Tony goes in, but I stand on the porch, listening to the sound. Rain smells so good. I watch the water drip off of the tomato plants. I imagine it rushing into the rain barrels. And I laugh. Finally, the wait is over. And if any of my neighbors happen to look out their windows, they would see me, laughing and yelling and dancing in circles, celebrating the rain.
7/10/07
Tony's TV Treasure
Tony is on cloud nine right now. Actually, he's happier than that. He's currently residing on cloud 10...maybe 10 and a half. His best friend in the whole world, the TV, which is more beloved to Tony than probably even me, just got even more desirable. We currently have Comcast cable, which I thought provided more than sufficient TV viewing, but noooooooooo! Tony was ready to take his TV viewing to the next level.
I was outkilling plants gardening in the front flowerbed when Tony literally flew out of the house. I swear, his feet never touched the ground. He was floating in all his excitement. And grinning like we had just won the lottery or something.
Tony: wecanswitchtosatelliteforcheaperthanwe'repayingnowforcable!
Me: You're gonna have to run that by me again, killer.
Tony (hyperventilating): Satellite! Cheaper than cable! More channels! Cubs all the time!
Now I get it. Tony's major beef with the city of Knoxville is that it has the audacity not to be located in the same region as Chicago, and since local sports stations will only show regional games, we get the Braves games all the time, but not the Cubs games. Same thing with football. Tony wants the Bears...we get the Falcons and the Titans. (Tony considers this a personal affront, purposely imposed by the city of Knoxville just to torment him. I've never figured out why the city of Knoxville is to blame instead of say, the cable company, or the local sports stations themselves, but that's the way it is. Knoxville is punishing Tony). Plus, Tony has been suffering with only about 100 TV stations for years, which is apparently piddley when compared to the 1000s of channels available. So not only is Tony forced to watch regional NFL and MLB while his beloved Cubs and Bears are overlooked by the evil, evil cable company (and/or the city of Knoxville, depending on who you're talking to), but he only has 99 other channels to flip through while the commercials are on. The last straw though, the very one that broke the Tony's back, was when said evil cable company REMOVED 5 OF OUR CHANNELS. (I had no clue that they had done this, but Tony was outraged). Apparently, one of these channels that the cable company blatantly stole from us was ESPN Classic, which featured some show called Stump the Swhwab, which Tony occasionally watched. (They also quit providing MSNBC, which Tony also claims to have watched, but I've never seen it on). He decided that enough was enough, so he started researching satellite. (We had looked into satellite before, but after talking to people who lost their connection every time the wind blew, we decided to hold off on it). It seems, however, that the satellite company has recently upgraded all of their equipment to better remain uninterrupted when there's rain, or wind, or the neighbor's sprinkler is on. That was good, but the clincher is that a certain Dish Network provides a certain package called America's Top 200, which is 200 channels of TV viewing bliss, including sports stations from ALL OVER THE COUNTRY that will show the Cubs even when they're on the road, PLUS something called NFL Ticket, which shows football games on Thursdays for some reason and will also show Da Bears no matter where they play. Oh! My! Goodness! Tony is so excited that he cannot even stand it! Which brings us back to the announcement in the front flowerbed, where Tony has been rattling off all the stations we'll get. I don't really care about the free months of HBO or all the sports stations, and Tony knows that, so he goes right for my big money winners:
Me: HGTV?
Tony: yep.
Me: DIY?
Tony: Yep.
Me: Weather Channel?
Tony: Yep.
That takes care of my TV requirements, but Tony's going for the slam dunk win:
Tony: Annnnnd, it will actually be cheaper than what we are paying now.
Me: Hmmm.
Tony: And, we have a clear view of the southern sky, so service will be crystal clear.
Me: Hmmm.
Tony: Installation is free.
Me: Hmmm.
Tony: And, we'll have lots and lots of music channels. You know how you like satellite radio, yeah?
Me: Really? Radio too huh? That could be nice.
Tony: And, they'll throw in a free DVR.
Me: Sold!
So the satellite people are coming on Saturday to install our very own fancy hubcap to the side of the house. Tony has been doing his happy dance all week in anticipation, I'm sure that most of the next century will be spent in a TV-induced coma. Cubs and Bears and free HBO. It's like Tony's Ultimate Dream Christmas in July.
And I might even watch a little too.
I was out
Tony: wecanswitchtosatelliteforcheaperthanwe'repayingnowforcable!
Me: You're gonna have to run that by me again, killer.
Tony (hyperventilating): Satellite! Cheaper than cable! More channels! Cubs all the time!
Now I get it. Tony's major beef with the city of Knoxville is that it has the audacity not to be located in the same region as Chicago, and since local sports stations will only show regional games, we get the Braves games all the time, but not the Cubs games. Same thing with football. Tony wants the Bears...we get the Falcons and the Titans. (Tony considers this a personal affront, purposely imposed by the city of Knoxville just to torment him. I've never figured out why the city of Knoxville is to blame instead of say, the cable company, or the local sports stations themselves, but that's the way it is. Knoxville is punishing Tony). Plus, Tony has been suffering with only about 100 TV stations for years, which is apparently piddley when compared to the 1000s of channels available. So not only is Tony forced to watch regional NFL and MLB while his beloved Cubs and Bears are overlooked by the evil, evil cable company (and/or the city of Knoxville, depending on who you're talking to), but he only has 99 other channels to flip through while the commercials are on. The last straw though, the very one that broke the Tony's back, was when said evil cable company REMOVED 5 OF OUR CHANNELS. (I had no clue that they had done this, but Tony was outraged). Apparently, one of these channels that the cable company blatantly stole from us was ESPN Classic, which featured some show called Stump the Swhwab, which Tony occasionally watched. (They also quit providing MSNBC, which Tony also claims to have watched, but I've never seen it on). He decided that enough was enough, so he started researching satellite. (We had looked into satellite before, but after talking to people who lost their connection every time the wind blew, we decided to hold off on it). It seems, however, that the satellite company has recently upgraded all of their equipment to better remain uninterrupted when there's rain, or wind, or the neighbor's sprinkler is on. That was good, but the clincher is that a certain Dish Network provides a certain package called America's Top 200, which is 200 channels of TV viewing bliss, including sports stations from ALL OVER THE COUNTRY that will show the Cubs even when they're on the road, PLUS something called NFL Ticket, which shows football games on Thursdays for some reason and will also show Da Bears no matter where they play. Oh! My! Goodness! Tony is so excited that he cannot even stand it! Which brings us back to the announcement in the front flowerbed, where Tony has been rattling off all the stations we'll get. I don't really care about the free months of HBO or all the sports stations, and Tony knows that, so he goes right for my big money winners:
Me: HGTV?
Tony: yep.
Me: DIY?
Tony: Yep.
Me: Weather Channel?
Tony: Yep.
That takes care of my TV requirements, but Tony's going for the slam dunk win:
Tony: Annnnnd, it will actually be cheaper than what we are paying now.
Me: Hmmm.
Tony: And, we have a clear view of the southern sky, so service will be crystal clear.
Me: Hmmm.
Tony: Installation is free.
Me: Hmmm.
Tony: And, we'll have lots and lots of music channels. You know how you like satellite radio, yeah?
Me: Really? Radio too huh? That could be nice.
Tony: And, they'll throw in a free DVR.
Me: Sold!
So the satellite people are coming on Saturday to install our very own fancy hubcap to the side of the house. Tony has been doing his happy dance all week in anticipation, I'm sure that most of the next century will be spent in a TV-induced coma. Cubs and Bears and free HBO. It's like Tony's Ultimate Dream Christmas in July.
And I might even watch a little too.
7/9/07
I heart Harry
Okay, I have a confession to make. I am secretly obsessed with Harry Potter. (What? You were expecting maybe a juicer confession? I shot JFK? I've had an alien encounter? Perhaps that I was a 4th grade criminal? Sorry). The reason that this is a confession is because it's a series of children's books (or at least for teens), and I am not a child, but I really really really like them. And I'm not talking about the movies, which are okay, but I'm a Harry Potter purist, which means that it has to come directly from Rowling's pen in order to get me going). I've been lurking on Mugglenet for ages, picking up juicy bits about what everybody thinks will happen in the last book. I cannot describe how sad I am that this is the end of Harry. I mean, I know all stories must eventually end, but "ze books, they are just so well written!" I have read and reread all my Harry Potter books so many times that I have entire sections memorized. I scored a perfect 20 on this Harry Potter trivia quiz. I reference Harry Potter in real world situations, such as, "Wow Tony! Your hockey team was really flying across the ice tonight! So fast paced! It looked just like a game of Quidditch!" (Tony is not a Harry Potter fan, so he does not appreciate what a fabulous compliment that is. He actually claims that I have a crush on Harry Potter because I spend so much time reading the same stories over and over again. I say that's ridiculous...Harry is only turning 17 this summer (actually, his birthday is this month!) so he's waaaaay too young for me. Well, maybe just a little crush, in a completely platonic, he's-a-fictional-character kind of way). Anyway, I've already set aside the entire weekend of the 21st for laying in bed and reading Deathly Hallows. I think I'll have it finished before work on Monday, but if necessary, I'll take Monday off to finish it. (I know my limits. I would never be able to put the last HP book down halfway through and go to work anyway!)
Everybody's guessing what's going to happen, and Slate even went as far as to publish the "last page" of the book, which I seriously doubt is real, because I greatly disliked how they thought it would end. Here's my predictions:
Snape turns out to be good after all, and will probably end up saving Harry's life, but ends up dying in the process.
I also think Hagrid dies (Rowling claims that 2 characters die in this last book, and that she cried when she wrote it. I know a lot of people think that Hermione or Ron die, but you gotta remember that it is a children's book, and yes, Dumbledore died in the last one, but to kill off one of Harry's best friends? That would just be too crushing...besides, I think Ron and Hermione get together in the end, so you can't kill them).
Of course, Harry defeats Voldemort, because good always wins over evil.
And after Voldemort dies, I think that Harry returns to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Harry and Ginny end up together.
Neville does something heroic too, because he's just due.
There. I may be totally wrong on all of it, but there's my two cents. We'll come back and revisit it after the 21st and see how close I am. In the mean time, I'm rereading all the previous books one last time before the new one comes out so that I'm completely refreshed on all the tiny details.
Did I mention that I was obsessed?
Everybody's guessing what's going to happen, and Slate even went as far as to publish the "last page" of the book, which I seriously doubt is real, because I greatly disliked how they thought it would end. Here's my predictions:
Snape turns out to be good after all, and will probably end up saving Harry's life, but ends up dying in the process.
I also think Hagrid dies (Rowling claims that 2 characters die in this last book, and that she cried when she wrote it. I know a lot of people think that Hermione or Ron die, but you gotta remember that it is a children's book, and yes, Dumbledore died in the last one, but to kill off one of Harry's best friends? That would just be too crushing...besides, I think Ron and Hermione get together in the end, so you can't kill them).
Of course, Harry defeats Voldemort, because good always wins over evil.
And after Voldemort dies, I think that Harry returns to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Harry and Ginny end up together.
Neville does something heroic too, because he's just due.
There. I may be totally wrong on all of it, but there's my two cents. We'll come back and revisit it after the 21st and see how close I am. In the mean time, I'm rereading all the previous books one last time before the new one comes out so that I'm completely refreshed on all the tiny details.
Did I mention that I was obsessed?
7/5/07
4th of July
Ah, the 4th of July: The smell of hamburgers on the grill, the fireworks, the freaky green beetles that rose up out of the grass in our backyard like the plagues of ancient Egypt and dive bombed us as we ran for our lives like streakers at at football game.
First the beetles. Tony and I had planned on celebrating the independence of our beloved country by doing what we do best, which lately, has been working on the new deck. (Railings are up now, by the way! And the whole thing was sealed with waterproof, sun proof, mildew proof wood sealant). We had just stepped out on the screened-in porch when we noticed that Mason was tracking something. Something large, and green, with icky bug legs. Anyway, Tony, being the manly man of the house, managed to trap it in an empty pickle jar that we had lying around (and he said my collection of empty pickle jars wouldn't come in handy!) and take the bug out to the grass. We had been so intent on catching the bug on the inside that we had neglected to notice that there were hundreds, no thousands of these very same bugs on the outside, rising up out of the lawn and buzzing around with reckless abandon.
"What are they?", I asked.
"I think it's a kind of beetle", he responded.
I only know about two types of beetles. One is the annoying little brown beetles that are attracted to porch lights and get stuck in your hair as you try to race past them into the safety of the house during the early summer. The other kind is wood boring beetles, and I don't know what they look like, but I know my parents battle with them every year as the beetles savagely carve perfectly round holes in their deck. Since these were very large, iridescent green beetles, that ruled out the brown beetles.
"You better stay away from my new deck!", I yelled at them as they launched themselves repeatedly into the screened door. A quick Google search (specifically to this site) indicates that these are a third type of beetles. These are June Beetles. I've included the picture below so you can fully appreciate their icky bug-like bugginess. Apparently they live in the ground and come out during the day. They do not eat wood or people, so we were able to work out a trans-species compromise. (Like rival gangs, we divided up the backyard...We mostly worked up on the porch, and they mostly stayed down around the grass, so there wasn't any trouble. Cross into rival turf though, and there's going to be a throw down).
'Round 1pm, all the local backyard grills fired up for their 4th of July hamburgers. (Ohhhh, the smell of grilling meat! Is there anything better in the whole world? I'm pretty sure that heaven will smell like that.) We didn't have any specific 4th of July plans, but we did just get our very first gas grill for our birthday last month, and I've been dying to try it out. We have a shiny new grill and shiny new giant grilling forks and shiny new tongs, and shiny new hamburgers and buns (okay, the meat and buns weren't really shiny, but you know what I mean), so I thought we were all set. Unfortunately, it turns out that in order for the shiny new gas grill to work, it needs a shiny new propane tank, which the grill people thoughtlessly did not include. (I'm writing a letter). Our cars, however, were smack dab in the middle of the beetle's turf, and since they outnumbered us a bajillion to two, we didn't fancy a rumble. We went inside and ate leftovers instead. The grill will wait for another (beetleless) day.
Finally, around dusk, the fireworks started. We live at the top of a hill, so I can stand on the back porch (my turf) and watch the surrounding neighborhood fireworks below without having to leave the comfort of my home. I love fireworks. Even better, I love watching the neighborhood kids watching the fireworks. The house across the street has multitudes of small children, in varying ages, and joy of joy!, Uncle somebody or other thoughtfully brought them sparklers and bottle rockets and whatnot, and then wisely fled the premises. The children (unsupervised) immediately shot a bottle rocket across the street and onto the brand new roof of the house next door. (Seriously, I think they just finished putting the last shingle on the day before). It smoldered for a while and finally went out without sending the whole house up in flames, but I'm pretty sure that Neighbor Stan now has a brand new scorch mark on his brand new shingles. Three houses down, a father is out on the driveway with his son and daughter. The father is lighting the firework while the girl, roughly 7, instructs him to "cover his ears and move back quickly" in a perfect adult voice mimic (probably her mother's). The first one is one of those screamers that makes an unholy noise as it shoots upwards into the night. The son (about 4 or 5?) shouts "Holy Crap!" as it launches (which is really funny to hear a 5 year old say), but is yelling, "That was awesome!" over and over by the time the thing makes its final pop. (The phrase "That was awesome!" was probably shouted about 400 times within the next hour alone). Thankfully, back at the house of the Unsupervised Bottle Rocket Launchers, the children have run out of bottle rockets, and are now doing interpretive dances in the driveway with the sparklers. The smallest one, whom I have secretly nicknamed Whiny Crybaby, doesn't like the noise of the fireworks booming in the distance, and he's running around screaming like the very hounds of Hell are after him. (Why they don't send him inside, I don't know). I watch the fireworks until about 9:30. When I head inside, Whiny's slightly older sister (5 maybe?) is still out in the driveway with her sparkler, mesmerized with its light as she waves it around, cheering: "Give me a U! Give me a B! Give me a L! Give me a G! Give me a W! (I'm not sure what she was trying to spell, if anything, but everyone knows that letters aren't important when sparklers are involved).
And so ends my 4th of July. Nothing amazing or out of the ordinary, but uniquely American all the same. Thank you founding fathers for committing treason in the name of independence so that I have the freedom to stand on my porch, watch the fireworks, smell other people's hamburgers grilling, and trade gang signs with the June beetles.
First the beetles. Tony and I had planned on celebrating the independence of our beloved country by doing what we do best, which lately, has been working on the new deck. (Railings are up now, by the way! And the whole thing was sealed with waterproof, sun proof, mildew proof wood sealant). We had just stepped out on the screened-in porch when we noticed that Mason was tracking something. Something large, and green, with icky bug legs. Anyway, Tony, being the manly man of the house, managed to trap it in an empty pickle jar that we had lying around (and he said my collection of empty pickle jars wouldn't come in handy!) and take the bug out to the grass. We had been so intent on catching the bug on the inside that we had neglected to notice that there were hundreds, no thousands of these very same bugs on the outside, rising up out of the lawn and buzzing around with reckless abandon.
"What are they?", I asked.
"I think it's a kind of beetle", he responded.
I only know about two types of beetles. One is the annoying little brown beetles that are attracted to porch lights and get stuck in your hair as you try to race past them into the safety of the house during the early summer. The other kind is wood boring beetles, and I don't know what they look like, but I know my parents battle with them every year as the beetles savagely carve perfectly round holes in their deck. Since these were very large, iridescent green beetles, that ruled out the brown beetles.
"You better stay away from my new deck!", I yelled at them as they launched themselves repeatedly into the screened door. A quick Google search (specifically to this site) indicates that these are a third type of beetles. These are June Beetles. I've included the picture below so you can fully appreciate their icky bug-like bugginess. Apparently they live in the ground and come out during the day. They do not eat wood or people, so we were able to work out a trans-species compromise. (Like rival gangs, we divided up the backyard...We mostly worked up on the porch, and they mostly stayed down around the grass, so there wasn't any trouble. Cross into rival turf though, and there's going to be a throw down).
'Round 1pm, all the local backyard grills fired up for their 4th of July hamburgers. (Ohhhh, the smell of grilling meat! Is there anything better in the whole world? I'm pretty sure that heaven will smell like that.) We didn't have any specific 4th of July plans, but we did just get our very first gas grill for our birthday last month, and I've been dying to try it out. We have a shiny new grill and shiny new giant grilling forks and shiny new tongs, and shiny new hamburgers and buns (okay, the meat and buns weren't really shiny, but you know what I mean), so I thought we were all set. Unfortunately, it turns out that in order for the shiny new gas grill to work, it needs a shiny new propane tank, which the grill people thoughtlessly did not include. (I'm writing a letter). Our cars, however, were smack dab in the middle of the beetle's turf, and since they outnumbered us a bajillion to two, we didn't fancy a rumble. We went inside and ate leftovers instead. The grill will wait for another (beetleless) day.
Finally, around dusk, the fireworks started. We live at the top of a hill, so I can stand on the back porch (my turf) and watch the surrounding neighborhood fireworks below without having to leave the comfort of my home. I love fireworks. Even better, I love watching the neighborhood kids watching the fireworks. The house across the street has multitudes of small children, in varying ages, and joy of joy!, Uncle somebody or other thoughtfully brought them sparklers and bottle rockets and whatnot, and then wisely fled the premises. The children (unsupervised) immediately shot a bottle rocket across the street and onto the brand new roof of the house next door. (Seriously, I think they just finished putting the last shingle on the day before). It smoldered for a while and finally went out without sending the whole house up in flames, but I'm pretty sure that Neighbor Stan now has a brand new scorch mark on his brand new shingles. Three houses down, a father is out on the driveway with his son and daughter. The father is lighting the firework while the girl, roughly 7, instructs him to "cover his ears and move back quickly" in a perfect adult voice mimic (probably her mother's). The first one is one of those screamers that makes an unholy noise as it shoots upwards into the night. The son (about 4 or 5?) shouts "Holy Crap!" as it launches (which is really funny to hear a 5 year old say), but is yelling, "That was awesome!" over and over by the time the thing makes its final pop. (The phrase "That was awesome!" was probably shouted about 400 times within the next hour alone). Thankfully, back at the house of the Unsupervised Bottle Rocket Launchers, the children have run out of bottle rockets, and are now doing interpretive dances in the driveway with the sparklers. The smallest one, whom I have secretly nicknamed Whiny Crybaby, doesn't like the noise of the fireworks booming in the distance, and he's running around screaming like the very hounds of Hell are after him. (Why they don't send him inside, I don't know). I watch the fireworks until about 9:30. When I head inside, Whiny's slightly older sister (5 maybe?) is still out in the driveway with her sparkler, mesmerized with its light as she waves it around, cheering: "Give me a U! Give me a B! Give me a L! Give me a G! Give me a W! (I'm not sure what she was trying to spell, if anything, but everyone knows that letters aren't important when sparklers are involved).
And so ends my 4th of July. Nothing amazing or out of the ordinary, but uniquely American all the same. Thank you founding fathers for committing treason in the name of independence so that I have the freedom to stand on my porch, watch the fireworks, smell other people's hamburgers grilling, and trade gang signs with the June beetles.
7/3/07
More Adventures of Dad The Amazing Diving Geezer
Just in case you haven't gotten enough of Dad's diving (and really, can you ever really get enough?) here's one more interview with Dad The Amazing Diving Geezer! Channel 10 News, WBIR did their story on Dad last night. This one focused more on Dad's perseverance despite the fact that he's losing more body parts than a Mr. Potato head with leprosy. The spleen, then the knee, now both shoulders. Eventually, surgeons will just transform Dad into the 6 Million Dollar Man with all bionic parts.
There isn't catchy Freefalling music in this one, but there's more of Dad being interviewed, and you do get Dad's classic "It's not a roadblock, it's a speed bump" speech, which pretty much sums up Dad's view on any challenge (and also explains why he's still diving, even though any sane person would have quit while they still had some natural limb movement).
http://www.wbir.com/sports/story.aspx?storyid=46797
As you can hear in the video interview (or read in the article) Dad goes under the knife in a few weeks for both shoulders, so he'll be out of commission for a little while. We'll probably be seeing Dad The Amazing Diving Geezer back for the world championships next May though, so mark it on your calendars now.
There isn't catchy Freefalling music in this one, but there's more of Dad being interviewed, and you do get Dad's classic "It's not a roadblock, it's a speed bump" speech, which pretty much sums up Dad's view on any challenge (and also explains why he's still diving, even though any sane person would have quit while they still had some natural limb movement).
http://www.wbir.com/sports/story.aspx?storyid=46797
As you can hear in the video interview (or read in the article) Dad goes under the knife in a few weeks for both shoulders, so he'll be out of commission for a little while. We'll probably be seeing Dad The Amazing Diving Geezer back for the world championships next May though, so mark it on your calendars now.
7/2/07
Tony's fun-filled Saturday
Since Tony is such a good husband and all to me, and he's done such a good job of keeping the house running while I've been finishing up this semester (No more class until August! Whoo hoo!), and he's just so sweet and everything, I decided that I would plan a wonderful fun-filled day for us to enjoy each other's company and make Kodak memories that will last a lifetime. Because I'm just a good wife like that...and I'm all about planning fun-filled days.
Tony's idea of fun is laying on the couch by himself, watching a Cubs game, but I'm convinced that he only thinks that is fun because he hasn't experienced a super-duper REAL fun-filled day yet. So I did some research, found some fun, and planned our Saturday. First, we would meet Mom and Dad out on the lake for some kayaking! Kayaking fun would be done for three hours, at which point we would return the kayaks, have a delightfully fun lunch, and then get showered and changed for a fun cookout/bonfire at the farm of one of my hiking buddies! A whole day of fun! I told Tony all about our fun-filled plans on Friday night, and he was less than enthused.
Tony: "Three hours is way too long to kayak. We'll be exhausted!"
Me: "Nonsense! I went for an hour a few weekends ago and I wasn't even sore afterwards!"
Tony: "And we hate parties!"
Me: "Nonsense! We'll meet new people, eat really good food, make smores over the bonfire...it'll be fun!"
Tony: "I won't know anybody"
Me: "Well, this is how you meet people. Strangers come to a party, you get introduced, then you know them".
Tony: "This doesn't sound like fun..."
Me: "You'll go and you'll like it and we'll make fun Kodak memories darnit!"
So we went. Saturday rolled around, and the sky was overcast and hazy, and we were late leaving the house because I couldn't find the shorts that I wanted to wear, and I thought I remembered how to get to Concord lake, but it turns out that I didn't, so there was a little bit of searching before we could find the place that rents the kayaks (RiverSports at the Cove, for you local yokels who are interested). But I was not deterred, because this is a fun-filled day. Mom and Dad had already rented our kayaks (thanks Mom and Dad!) and had them down by the water by the time we arrived, so the only thing left was just to jump in and head off for a three hour tour (backup singers: a three hour tour). It really was a lot of fun, and I'm not saying that just because I had the fastest kayak and totally smoked everybody else in the race to the green sign. The sun finally came out about an hour into the trip, and the four of us paddled along the lake shore, talking to the cows that were cooling off in the water on one side, and ogling the McMansions that were on the other bank. (Those poor people, forced to live in those multi-million dollar homes like that). It's been quite a few years since Tony kayaked, but it's like riding a bike, really, so I knew he'd get the hang of it. I always lean back and use my stomach muscles to row row row my boat, so that my arms don't get tired. I tried to explain this to Tony, but apparently he had the longest, heaviest kayak, AND he was only relying on arm muscles, which understandably got exhausted after paddling for an hour and a half. Unfortunately, we traveled out away from the marina for the first half of the trip, so he still had to paddle back, and his hands were blistered and his arms were too tired to lift. (Shoulda used his tummy muscles!) He did make it back to shore, but you could tell he wasn't having a fun-filled good time.
On top of all that, he also didn't realize that he had neglected to put on sunscreen until after he already burned. He is lobster red today. Bright. Throbbing. Glow in the dark red. Very painful. He looks like a candy cane, only instead of red and white stripes, he has red and white blocks. (Sock area: white, legs: red, Shorts area: white, arms: oh so red. shirt area: white, neck area: crispy critter red). Not a happy camper at all.
So the kayaking wasn't as fun-filled as expected. That's okay. We'll go home, get showers and change, douse Tony in Solarcane, and head off to the cookout. Cookouts are guaranteed fun! (I'm a born optimist, and this is a fun-filled day). I'm really playing up the awesomeness of the food that will be there. Tony is food motivated. He's not as motivated about going to a party where he doesn't know anyone (Tony doesn't like parties where he does know everyone) but I am convinced that he'll find someone to talk baseball with once he gets there and have a grand old time.
When we get there, all the guys are playing volleyball. They invite Tony to play, but this appears to be full contact volleyball, and Tony's sunburn is just not happy about that, so we sit and watch a very entertaining game, full of trash talk and male testosterone. I did get him to play a little Bocce ball, and he seemed to enjoy that, even though we lost. The party food of choice turned out to be a lowcountry boil so it had shrimp in it, which Tony doesn't eat. (He had chicken tenders, which they had supplied for non-shrimp eaters, so he didn't starve). But oh my goodness the shrimp was good! And crab legs on the side! It was heaven! (Except for Tony). They also had really delicious watermelon, which Tony also doesn't eat, but I had some, and it was good too. We stayed from 4:30 to 9:30, which was an all time record for him, but way shorter than anyone else stayed. Oh well. Baby steps. By the way, thanks to Andrea for inviting us! I had a lovely time, and Tony tolerated it, which is good for him.
So I had a wonderful fun-filled day, and Tony...well, he mostly survived it. I guess he just doesn't do "forced fun" very well. I have decided, however, to make it up to him with an even bigger, more fun-filled day! One so jam-packed full of fun activities that he'll just be beside himself! It'll be so much fun, he won't even know what hit him!
We're going to lay on the couch and watch the Cubs.
Tony's idea of fun is laying on the couch by himself, watching a Cubs game, but I'm convinced that he only thinks that is fun because he hasn't experienced a super-duper REAL fun-filled day yet. So I did some research, found some fun, and planned our Saturday. First, we would meet Mom and Dad out on the lake for some kayaking! Kayaking fun would be done for three hours, at which point we would return the kayaks, have a delightfully fun lunch, and then get showered and changed for a fun cookout/bonfire at the farm of one of my hiking buddies! A whole day of fun! I told Tony all about our fun-filled plans on Friday night, and he was less than enthused.
Tony: "Three hours is way too long to kayak. We'll be exhausted!"
Me: "Nonsense! I went for an hour a few weekends ago and I wasn't even sore afterwards!"
Tony: "And we hate parties!"
Me: "Nonsense! We'll meet new people, eat really good food, make smores over the bonfire...it'll be fun!"
Tony: "I won't know anybody"
Me: "Well, this is how you meet people. Strangers come to a party, you get introduced, then you know them".
Tony: "This doesn't sound like fun..."
Me: "You'll go and you'll like it and we'll make fun Kodak memories darnit!"
So we went. Saturday rolled around, and the sky was overcast and hazy, and we were late leaving the house because I couldn't find the shorts that I wanted to wear, and I thought I remembered how to get to Concord lake, but it turns out that I didn't, so there was a little bit of searching before we could find the place that rents the kayaks (RiverSports at the Cove, for you local yokels who are interested). But I was not deterred, because this is a fun-filled day. Mom and Dad had already rented our kayaks (thanks Mom and Dad!) and had them down by the water by the time we arrived, so the only thing left was just to jump in and head off for a three hour tour (backup singers: a three hour tour). It really was a lot of fun, and I'm not saying that just because I had the fastest kayak and totally smoked everybody else in the race to the green sign. The sun finally came out about an hour into the trip, and the four of us paddled along the lake shore, talking to the cows that were cooling off in the water on one side, and ogling the McMansions that were on the other bank. (Those poor people, forced to live in those multi-million dollar homes like that). It's been quite a few years since Tony kayaked, but it's like riding a bike, really, so I knew he'd get the hang of it. I always lean back and use my stomach muscles to row row row my boat, so that my arms don't get tired. I tried to explain this to Tony, but apparently he had the longest, heaviest kayak, AND he was only relying on arm muscles, which understandably got exhausted after paddling for an hour and a half. Unfortunately, we traveled out away from the marina for the first half of the trip, so he still had to paddle back, and his hands were blistered and his arms were too tired to lift. (Shoulda used his tummy muscles!) He did make it back to shore, but you could tell he wasn't having a fun-filled good time.
On top of all that, he also didn't realize that he had neglected to put on sunscreen until after he already burned. He is lobster red today. Bright. Throbbing. Glow in the dark red. Very painful. He looks like a candy cane, only instead of red and white stripes, he has red and white blocks. (Sock area: white, legs: red, Shorts area: white, arms: oh so red. shirt area: white, neck area: crispy critter red). Not a happy camper at all.
So the kayaking wasn't as fun-filled as expected. That's okay. We'll go home, get showers and change, douse Tony in Solarcane, and head off to the cookout. Cookouts are guaranteed fun! (I'm a born optimist, and this is a fun-filled day). I'm really playing up the awesomeness of the food that will be there. Tony is food motivated. He's not as motivated about going to a party where he doesn't know anyone (Tony doesn't like parties where he does know everyone) but I am convinced that he'll find someone to talk baseball with once he gets there and have a grand old time.
When we get there, all the guys are playing volleyball. They invite Tony to play, but this appears to be full contact volleyball, and Tony's sunburn is just not happy about that, so we sit and watch a very entertaining game, full of trash talk and male testosterone. I did get him to play a little Bocce ball, and he seemed to enjoy that, even though we lost. The party food of choice turned out to be a lowcountry boil so it had shrimp in it, which Tony doesn't eat. (He had chicken tenders, which they had supplied for non-shrimp eaters, so he didn't starve). But oh my goodness the shrimp was good! And crab legs on the side! It was heaven! (Except for Tony). They also had really delicious watermelon, which Tony also doesn't eat, but I had some, and it was good too. We stayed from 4:30 to 9:30, which was an all time record for him, but way shorter than anyone else stayed. Oh well. Baby steps. By the way, thanks to Andrea for inviting us! I had a lovely time, and Tony tolerated it, which is good for him.
So I had a wonderful fun-filled day, and Tony...well, he mostly survived it. I guess he just doesn't do "forced fun" very well. I have decided, however, to make it up to him with an even bigger, more fun-filled day! One so jam-packed full of fun activities that he'll just be beside himself! It'll be so much fun, he won't even know what hit him!
We're going to lay on the couch and watch the Cubs.