You kids are soft! You lack discipline!

Good news from Dr. Vet tonight. "It's not a tumah," although I didn't take the call personally, so it may not have sounded like that. Then again, this is the south, so maybe it DID sound like that, heh.

We'll have the polyp laser surgeried (surgeryed?) out. Good thing Thomas has excellent MediCat coverage.

Christmas is coming, people

And it's even on sale. Come on, don't you want my cats to be happy?

What next, anti-gravity?*

Okay, so don't even ask me how I found The Anti - Panties (honestly, I wasn't looking for them and I can't remember how I found them at all...hmm, I've found some really strange things by not looking for them), but I'd like to express some thoughts on them.

First of all, what's up with those really fugly colors and patterns? Really, denim isn't what I want my undergarments to be made of. I'd just go commando if I wanted denim underwear. And why do I keep misspelling denim and adding an "n" on the end of it? It's like I want to say "damn." "Denimn."

Second, I don't know why it's a circle. Maybe I'm missing something here. Maybe it's a really, really tiny circle? All other girl products are generally in a line shape. You'd think there would have been more circular products if the circle took over the square-d off product. (Again, unless I'm just missing out on something, in which case, I will be pissed. Nobody ever tells me anything!)

Third, I don't even like tank tops with the built-in "shelf bra." It doesn't support at all like a real shelf. It's misleading. And they give me the dreaded uniboob. If only I had been born with fake boobs, I could avoid that problem, I'm sure. What was I saying? Oh yes, the uniboob. If these magic stickers are the equivalent of the tank top's shelf bra, then they are WORTHLESS. There's also the matter of the uncomfortable elastic imprint you get after you take the tank top off. I don't think the Magic Pants Stickers will give you that, but right now this has turned into a complaint about the purported "shelf" bra.

I really have to stop before this gets any weirder. Trust me, I already deleted out some of the grosser ponderings. Since people I actually know read this. And also because I'm still trying to get a job or something.

For the record, I have nothing against #10 on this list.

*Never mind. It's already out there. :(

Whoa there, pardner

Wait, so...when I say "uhl" I sound like a dimwit? (From Fark)

I never thought/realized I had an accent until I went to college. I used to tell a story about the "far alarm" going off, which no one understood because they understand "far" as being "a long distance" and not "really hot flames and such that will burn you up." I also thought that everyone said "uhl," "buhl," "fuhl," and "spult" for spoiled. (For the record, everyone ought to.)

I then moved to Dallas, where I never had any problems with my accent, except the time that I was applying for a job at a university and the job coordinator-lady told me that jobs were for American citizens only. I'm sure it was my accent that gave me away as being fresh off the boat.




You know, that old desert skiff I arrived on from West Texas.







When I moved to LSC, most people understood me, but I generally had problems at the post office. I still have problems at the post office, but different kinds. When I moved to the O.V., I couldn't understand what anyone was saying. Sometimes I still can't. They apparently don't understand me here, either, because I find myself repeating everything I say.

One thing I really like about audioblogs is that you can hear what other people sound like. I already know what I sound like, so that part isn't fun. But listening to other people is fun.

Talking with Ambimb was sort of like talking to a newsman! That part was sort of fun because he sounds like the people who don't have accents, like the people in the article who go to these S.A.D. speech classes or whatever.

Everyone else I've audioblogged with has had some sort of accent, although I felt very at-home with T B /F/K/A F-H. Even though he has what is probably an objective accent, I didn't feel he had one at all. Maybe I'm just dumb; after all, I have an accent, so what do I know?

Wow!

Mr. P wasn't kidding...there is a Rock'n Roll, Part 1. As well as a Rock'n Roll (not part-ed).

I'll be dogged.

Barzam update

Bar Steve passed. I know because I saw him at the swearing-in ceremony, his table-rocking guns hidden under a suit. I was glad to see he wasn't wearing the same outfit he wore every day for the bar.

I didn't see the girl who sat next to me, the one who glared at me when my stomach growled (I passed the blame to Bar Steve), and on the last day asked me what I put for the last answer. I pretty much told her that whatever she had put was wrong.

Apocalypse Chow

Lest you people think I'm the world's biggest nerd, receiving crossword and sudoku books for my birthday, I also received a cookbook. No, not this one, although to be quite honest, it may be my kind of thing, especially given my area's circumstances.

I was putting the recipes in the binder it came with (it's one of those big ones, with dividers and such), when a particular recipe caught my eye:

Emergency Chocolate Cake

Wait...As in, In Case of Emergency, Bake This Cake emergency? I meant to go back and read the recipe to find out what makes this cake great in an emergency, and especially to see if it specifies what type of emergency it's good for. Because you know, like, fire extinguishers come in different types, some for electrical, others for kitchen or auto, etc. I know because I had to attend monthly safety classes when I worked at the box factory.

When it was my turn to conduct the safety class, I did mine on food poisoning, because it was something I would probably be good at if anyone would eat what I cook. I meant, if I cooked and all. And then at the end of it, we played Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon because I like to conduct a fun safety class. But mostly because we didn't want to get back to making boxes.

I'm a hazard to myself

I tried a soduku puzzle in my hotel room. It took about 30 minutes to do the first one, rated "light and easy." I was super-pleased to find that I had gotten everything right. Yay, me!

Then I tried #2, also "light and easy." I got to the very end and was triumphant when I filled in the last block. Except...now I had two 8s on a row. Oh, I can fix that, just change around this 8 and the 3. No, now I've got two 3s. Okay...I can do this. Well, no I can't. I ended up with three 1s on a row, which is really, REALLY, FOR SURE wrong. I was pissed.

Last night I decided I'd redeem myself and erase that puzzle and do it right. I mean, it's just counting to 9, right? I picked up one of my old bar pencils, the Warrior pencils with the nice eraser and carefully and lightly erased. I had to make sure not to rub through the paper. I didn't, so I felt this was a positive sign.

Until I realized I had just erased the one I had gotten right. @#$%! Yes, I was very angry. I started to redo that one and realized it seemed harder than it had been the other night. D'oh! I gave up and erased #2 and started on that one again.

I told this to LQ and she directed me to this site and I've been doing them online, because there's no eraser problems there. Except I also use the cheater option and it tells me if I'm headed down a bunny trail. Even with the cheater option, it takes me nearly 50% longer than the average person. Sadly, one puzzle said that 92% of the do-ers had been faster than me.

I may have to go back to Word Jumbles or something easy to stroke my ego. Maybe maze puzzles, except I wasn't very good at those either.

To make things worse, I put in my contact this morning and my eye teared up and felt like it was on fire. I have no idea what I got on my contact but I can't bear to put it back in. Oh, and Misha took off with the cap right when I was having my contact crisis.

I'm waiting for the ONE TON weight to come crashing down, or a piano.
-----------------------------
Don't let me get me
I'm my own worst enemy

Wearing tag-free underwear doesn't make me immune to being tagged with a meme, apparently

I've been tagged again. And since I don't have much to report about the 2,000 mile road trip I just took (bathrooms across the south still suck, still not enough urban sprawl so that I can have Starbucks more than every 932 miles), I guess I'll do it.
-----------------------------
10 Years Ago: More than likely, I was forced to miss out on holiday fun to go "support" the football team by learning a new super-lame, holiday-themed marching show every week. There are some things I don't miss about band. "Supporting the team" was one of them. Really, it's not like anyone came to see us - they came to watch the team. The team that rode in chartered buses and ate at real restaurants in the playoffs...as opposed to the band in yellow dogs and eating cold, nasty hamburger pizza at 1 a.m. and then driving back the same night.

5 Years Ago: I was kicking butt in my Euclidean and non-Euclidean geometry class, the only math class I ever had success in, probably because it was all conceptual and no numbers were involved. I was later offered an engineering job by my professor (HAHAHAHA...okay, you can stop lauging now). I turned it down. Which ultimately led to me taking the majorly unsatisfying box factory union job I toiled away at for the next couple of years.

1 Year Ago: I was hoping I had passed the MPRE so I wouldn't have to take it in the spring.

Five Yummy Things:

1. My mom's broccoli-cheese casserole
2. Pizza
3. Diet Dr. Pepper
4. Cheese, almost any kind except runny cheese
   
5. Dark Chocolate

Five Songs I Know By Heart:

1. I Want You To Want Me
2. I Bet You They Won't Play This Song On The Radio, which I sang at my initiation ceremony. It wasn't a hit, exactly.
   
3. Rock'n Roll, Part 2. I've been assured there's a Rock'n Roll, Part 1, but I ain't heard it yet.
   
4. Material Girl
5. A Thousand Miles From Nowhere
   

Five Things I Would Do With A LOT Of Money:

1. Pay off my debt...which is a LOT of money. Hopefully I would have some of that money left over for the next 4 things.
2. Have all my clothes and shoes custom-made. And I'd live in the Small House, too.
   
3. Travel like crazy.
   
4. Make a giant room solely for the cats and put in like, 10 of these.
5. Buy season tickets for the Stars. And maybe some other sports. Since I have a "LOT" of money.
   

Five Things I Would Never Wear:

1. Green shoes
2. Compression stockings (unless for some reason, medically necessary)
   
3. Trucker hats
4. Those little socks with the pom-poms on the back
5. A peach business suit
   

Five Favorite TV Shows:

1. Northern Exposure
2. M*A*S*H (Favorite episode - #155 "Dear Comrade")
   
3. Monty Python's Flying Circus (Favorite skit - The Bishop)
   
4. Seinfeld (Not sure if I have a favorite episode, but I love Puddy in "The Face Painter")
   
5. JAG
   

Five Things I Enjoy Doing:

1. Eating
2. Snacking
3. Finishing a hard crossword puzzle
4. Blogging
5. Laughing
   

Five People I Want to Inflict This On:

1. Stanley
   
2. The President
3. The Queen
4. Anderson Cooper
   
5. Any Mountie
   

On the road...again

See y'all in a couple of days.

Man, they really need to develop a Road Miles program, because I've been logging them like crazy. Of course, what would I spend them on? More road trips? Gas station coffee? Corn Nuts that expired 1 1/2 years ago (I thought they had been smelly because I got the ranch-flavored ones. Nope, they were just really old. Not that I think fresh ranch Corn Nuts probably smell better)? Nah, I'd probably be better off cashing them in for magazines or something useless like that.

LQ said she's been doing these new Sudoku puzzles, which I had read about but never tried. I got a book of them as a Happy CongratuBirthday/Thanksgiving/Passing the Bar gift, so maybe I'll try one in the car. Maybe I'll actually solve one. Or not. There's numbers involved, after all, even though everyone swears up and down there's no math involved. Considering I can't even count from 1-10 most of the time, this could be problematic.

Houston, we have a problem

My mom has always wanted a Korean grandchild, and she's impressed this upon me for many years now. (We'll ignore the fact that I have 2 Korean brothers that I don't think she's hinted so strongly to.)

Yet at their house, the usual guest bedroom has an antique bed that is incredibly creaky and groan-y if you just look at it funny. Getting onto the bed sounds like you're boarding one of those big wooden Viking ships. Never mind trying any fooling around. Ironically, that room also doubles as the nursery for visiting grandbabies (I get the hint, Mom) because it has a crib in it. My sister who is staying in that room commented that she forgot her birth control pills, but that wasn't a problem because the Incredibly Noisy Bed served as natural birth control anyway.

This time we were put in an alternate guest bedroom--the "Nixon Room," as I like to call it, due to the twin beds. The beds are separated by heavy pieces of furniture, so even if one felt like pushing the two together, it would be difficult. I don't think my mom has figured out that both of these guest bedrooms aren't conducive to her goal of 500 very cute grandchildren (although she's not doing bad at around a dozen or so so far). Furthermore, even if a guest were to comply, or attempt to comply, with her grandchild-making wish in the Nixon Room, there's still the matter of the noisy plastic bedsheets (for bedwetting-prone grandchildren, I guess) on both twin beds.

It's safe to say that there won't be any grandchildren in 9 months from now.

Friday Cat Blogging

Thomas takes a power nap in the "executive" chair.

In the spotlight life is so peachy

The shower in my bathroom (I mean, the one for the room I'm staying in this week) is huge. Cavernous. Meatnormous, if you will. I mean, it is the size of some of my old closets. It's really quite nice, from an objective point of view. It's got big slate - or granite or whatever that stuff is - walls and floor. There's a bench and an adjustable showerhead. There's lots of little shelves for storing tons of shower stuff.

And a spotlight right overhead.

Okay...I have trouble peeing if there's too much light, so you can imagine that I can barely shower in the Meatnormously large shower with the spotlight. I feel like I'm on display! Naked and on display! So every morning now is like some people's "naked giving a speech" kind of bad dream, except it's real.

I think I could probably handle it if the shower were much smaller, so that I wouldn't feel that maybe I was in a community locker room shower or something. I guess that makes me the opposite of a claustrophobic - I want it to be a tiny space, so I can be assured that I will be showering alone, and probably not on display.

At any rate, because it's Thanksgiving, I decided to go ahead and shower anyway, because I don't get to see my family all that much. I can put up with shower stage fright for a few days if it means people will feed me for free and watch sports and stuff.

Zoom zoom

I had an interview today.

I also test drove a loaded Mazda RX-8 (not at the interview, although that would be quite an interview). It was sweet. You can go um, pretty fast without meaning to. Not that I did.... But I really want to use that 6th gear someday. It's calling to me...Elaine, Elaine! I can hear it already.

She's so fine, there's no tellin' where the money went

My mom was dismayed to know that my brother had assigned a "horrible rap song with all sorts of bad words" as the ring tone for a certain lady friend of his. She called my brother this morning to see about him doing some yard work. When he picked up, I heard her say, "What's my ring tone? Is it a rap song?"

I didn't hear the rest of the conversation, so I later asked what ring tone he had given her. The answer? "When A Man Loves A Woman." She seemed more pleased than than disturbed, so if she'd rather have that than a bad rap song, then I guess that's good.

I have no comment.

Mmm, Thanksgiving

You Are The Stuffing

You're complicated and complex, yet all your pieces fit together. People miss you if you're gone - but they're not sure why.

What Part of Thanksgiving Are You?

I like the way I'm the carb-alicious dish, because it means everyone wants me but tries to avoid me. Yeah, that sounds about right. Um, wait, is that good or bad?

Seen at LQ's!

Drive Friendly

Even though my butt's main purpose is to sit on, it sure gets tired of doing its job for 10+ hours on end every couple of weekends.

It was interesting to drive through the Hurricane Rita-struck areas after exiting the Katrina-hit areas. It was NOT interesting to go on a 10 hour car trip without seeing a single Harbucks, with the exception of one right across the Louisiana border. I try not to stop in Louisiana. For one thing, they have bad gas stations. And people smoke in them and at them. Aren't you NOT supposed to smoke at gas stations? Also, they have casino gas stations, which is an interesting premise, but I bet those slot machine handles are really extra extra germy. Eww. I just grossed myself out.

I get to wear the purple suit again tomorrow, and if all goes well (meaning, I don't catch an arm or leg in the car or something), I'll wear it again on Wednesday. But just in case something happened, I did bring a back-up suit. I'm prepared that way.

I'll be on the road again tomorrow for most of the day. So don't let anything too exciting happen while I'm gone, okay? No pre-emailed-post tomorrow because apparently, it works, and all y'all got to laugh at my lame email to myself.

Uh

I hope this works. I'm not only doing blog-by-email but also a timed-delay email. Next stop, conquering the world. Anyway, I hope this works. If it does, it will be awesome, because I will be on the road. If not, haha, no one except me will ever know I wrote this extremely lame post.

Push it...push it real good

Table of Contents
Part 1 - Reader questions
Part 2 - My own personal nosy questions regarding the blogger's site

---------------------------------------------
Part 1

The "real" answer to the last question was "two." Although I would have just stuck with "none," because I think it's overrated.

Part 2

I need to a personal assistant to vet these audioblog guests because I don't like, say, having my whole Weltanschauung destroyed when the guest says things that are totally unexpected. I still can't believe I could have been wrong all this time. Wow. Freaky.
---------------------------------------------

If you'd like to be subjected to similar bad infojournotainmentelephonicblogism, let me know. I have a few people who've already volunteered themselves for this dangerous mission, and the reason I haven't gotten around to them is because I keep hoping they'll see the error of their ways and back out while they still can.

When McPan met Sallie

If I ever meet whoever this Sallie Mae is, I'm going to suckerpunch her into next week.

I've changed my address THREE times (making sure to SUBMIT each time) on the web. Yet I still get forwarded mail from my old address. That I left in June. I can look later today and it'll still be the right address. But in a week, it'll revert back.

Being a good girl, I called to a) make them freaking fix it once and for all, since this is now becoming a ginormous hassle b) tell them to fix their freaking website since I can't possibly be the only person this is happening to.

The operator for Option 1 (changing your address) wouldn't let me change it unless I gave him my old phone number. The one I couldn't remember when I was living there. Finally, I convinced him I was me, and he changed it. I then tried to tell him I wanted to be transferred to some kind of internet support or whatever so I could report the problem.

"There isn't one."

Then why did it say, For webpage problems, press 2?

"Oh, that's also me."

Very large sigh here.

He wrote down my problem and read it back to me. He had written it down completely wrong. Eventually, he pretty much just gave me the brush-off and told me next time to email my complaint.

Friday Cat Blog

Thomas is at the vet today. They're sedating him so they can check out his ear. He has a polyp in one and we've been battling an ear infection for a couple of weeks now. Poor old cat. He hid under the bed this morning when it was time to go. Usually I have to stuff him in the carrier. Today he walked in with a resigned look and didn't even meow on the drive. :(

The Greatest of All Time

The last time I saw my girlfriend from law school (about a month ago), she gave me this pin. My (undisputed, I might add) featherweight title has been enameled on, so it must be true.





That is all.

Is one of us supposed to be a dog in this scenario?

Dear Readers (Have I ever told you that you're the best readers ever? Because you are.),

I know that I asked about a week ago for some questions for my Mystery Audioblogger. And I thank those who were kind enough to leave me questions (even if some people [f/k/a/ you know who] seem to have forgotten that each segment is only 5 minutes long and left treatise-worthy questions).

I used those questions. A lot. Often. And they were answered. Several times.

So where's the audio? you ask. Well, it didn't post like it was supposed to. I'd really like a refund on what I didn't pay to Audioblogger for losing a very good first take.

As to the subsequent recordings...let me tell you a little story. It's a story about a Very Bad Mystery Audioblogger with whom I re-recorded the first segment three times. Why?

• The first time was very funny and we even had an argument in the middle of it and then it became a fight to see who would "out" the other so as to make it absolutely unusable. This was my favorite re-take.
  
• The second time I only got two sentences into it because Said Very Bad Mystery Audioblogger uttered a questionable* word, which made me utter quite a few words that were not questionable and clearly un-publishable.
• *The test is: if one wouldn't say a particular word to one's own mother, then I'm not letting it go on air to MY mother. And for those of you who always thought I was kidding when I say "My mom reads this blog," um, my mom does read this blog. She's the one who comments as "Mom." Tricky that way, I know.
  
• The third time was my fault. I tried to be very serious so I could get that thing recorded and posted. As it turns out, I don't play the straight man well, so it's a very good thing I'm a woman. It was severely un-funny, although the Spanish Inquisition made a cameo appearance.
  

Now I'm here begging you people for more questions. They don't have to be serious. They don't even have to require knowledge of the Mystery Audioblogger. They can be argument-provoking, since we apparently are pretty good at arguing.

They don't even have to be questions. I'll even play Buy, Sell, or Hold! I'm desperate!

I promise, the audio will be up by Sunday at the latest. Why? Because I'm going out of town, suckas.

A mind that can (almost) bend a spoon

I solved a NYT Sunday puzzle*!

*with some internet(s) help. And I did get the last answer ("onus") all by myself to complete it. Hoo rah!

Stupidest answer ever

I'm almost done with Sunday's NYT puzzle.

72 Across was "Best way to drive."

Answer? "Alertly."

That is a stupid answer.

I had to do some cheating (looking up around 10 clues or so, but I did crack the theme of the puzzle rather quickly, so that helped me fill in large areas and all the long answers across and down). I may finish it, even if it's with a *(some cheating).

I also learned a new word - ennead. Which means a group or set of nine. The clue was "The Supreme Court, e.g." I felt really dumb that I didn't know what it meant. Will I ever use this word again? Unlikely.

Disastrous Housewife

I thought I would be a good housekeeper yesterday and vacuum. (Stop laughing!) As it turned out, it was much harder than I'd anticipated.

I couldn't find the plug. I kept stepping on the automatic plug return button, but that did not make the plug automatically come out. That took about 2 minutes to find.

I couldn't figure out how to make the handle tilt back. I kept taking the vacuum apart on accident instead.

Finally I got it plugged in, handle tilted back, and set on "Low" since I was doing area rugs and stuff.

Gosh, I thought, this vacuuming is a lot of work! I pushed and pulled and ran the vacuum over the same spots several times because it didn't seem to be picking up the cat hair. After the last rug, approximately 20 minutes after I began, I reached to turn off the vacuum...except I ended up switching it from "Floor" to "Carpet." Whoa - that carpet setting is much stronger...wait...meaning...I didn't have to work nearly so hard to do these rugs. Son of a bee sting!!! GRRRRRRRRR.

I went back and revacuumed everything in like, 25 seconds on the carpet setting. So. Much. Easier.

The moral of the story: Make sure your mail order bride comes pre-loaded with household appliance know-how and/or a good return policy.

The sad part is, I picked this vacuum out. I know I've used it before, but it must have been a very long time ago. In fact, it's probably been well over a year since I've used it.

As you wish

Has it got any sports in it?

Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles...

E. Spat has tagged me, McPan the Impervious to Meme-Tagging.

However, this one was very easy even if it did involve having to count (TWICE...oops, three times if I have to count 5 more bloggers). Sadly, it was not a particularly funny or interesting post.

1. Go into your archives.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Post the fifth sentence (or closest to it).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same thing.

There wasn't a large crowd or anything.

Nothing gave Buttercup McPan as much pleasure as ordering Westley the following five bloggers around --

1. Blonde Justice
2. Brian
3. CBK
4. Milbarge
5. The Bawdy Cloister

Today's list of bloggers is brought to you by the letter B and the number 5.

Farm boy, polish my horse's saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning.

McPan's product reviews

In light of today's depressing hair forecast and impending age-d-ness, I panicked. That kind of panic can only be resolved through the purchase of products. Today's solution - the Olay Regenerist Thermal Polisher.

I know...I'm a sucker. In my defense, I really like polish. I like nail polish, shoe polish, Polish sausage... Why not my face? Plus, this old thing could use some regener-ing and some thermal-ing and probably a bit of polishing to boot.

But I was also intrigued by the claim that the scrub was self-heating. Guess what - they weren't lying. Wow! It was sort of like an MRE, except for my face! I have no idea how it works, but it got instantly hot (but not too hot...but pretty dang warm) in my hands.

Does my face feel smoother? Yeah, maybe. Considering I just scrubbed off the top layer with Mystery Heat-up Crystals.

So, that's a thumbs up (so far) on the face polish.

The Olay Quench lotion, not so much. As I sat here typing, I noticed that my hands were sort of gold and shimmery. Yes, apparently there is a healthy dose of shimmer in the Quench lotion. If I had known it was a shimmer lotion, I wouldn't have bought it. True, the glitter flakes are pretty small, but they're really, really bright. I feel like freaking Yogurt. Seriously.

Good news, people

I revived my sugar cookies!

Although I didn't think it would work because I had overcooked my cookies, a piece of bread (helpfully suggested by my favorite cook, LQ) did soften them up! Can you hear the angel choir singing?

Hairy S. Truman

I was blow-drying my hair this morning with one of those big round brushes. I normally don't see much of myself when I blow-dry my hair because the house was built in the 50s or 60s and the mirrors are hung very high. You know, back when everyone was 6'0 and all. My house in Dallas was like that too. So I'm drying my hair on a step stool and am getting a good look at my hair for once.
And I noticed I have the world's healthiest silver hair (singular). It was big and fat. And bright silver.

Can you see it? It's right there in the middle.

All my previous silver hairs (only two [that I've known about]) were skinny and looked defeated anyway. But this hair is healthy. I wonder if that means I'll start getting a lot more.

I'll admit, when I saw other bloggers bemoaning silver or gray hair caused by law school, I had a bit of a smirk. Sure, I'm approaching 30. Sure I can't cook. Sure I overmix my cookies. But I had a huge mess of dark hair. And I wield a mean Xacto knife.

I informed A of my tragic discovery. He asked if I had plucked it. Um, no? Because the last thing I want is to be bald as well.

What's that word...hubris? Yes. And what's that phrase...the enemy of my enemy is my friend? Yes. Okay, so that enemy thing doesn't make a lot of sense, but I'm getting prematurely senile too. I'm looking forward to dentures, though, because I'll ask for a really nice smile with straight teeth.

Okay...positive thoughts, positive thoughts. I'll try to think positively.

• Maybe I'll get carded less.
• Maybe this hair is an anomoly.
• Maybe no one looks at the back of my head.
• Maybe people will stop laughing when I say I'm a lawyer.
• Maybe I won't look like a skunk when it's all said and done.
• Maybe Anderson will like me better with silver hair and even interview me on tv.

Give me some more positive thoughts, people.

PSA

Just a friendly reminder to all y'all....

I'm an egotist. I mean, duh. Okay, but that part isn't the "reminder." And so, while I love to get comments just like most bloggers, please remember that I am...how do I put this...taken. And that some comments left of late make some takers [who shall remain nameless] rather uncomfortable.

I don't want it to come to the point where I have to ban commenters, or, if I absolutely had to, shut down the blog. I don't think it will come to either point, but I do reserve the right to edit and delete any comments that I or my handlers feel are inappropriate.

But what about the First Amendment? you say. It's called, I made a C in Con Law, so too bad.

If you enjoyed these thinly veiled threats, see also here.

I'm so ashamed of myself

When I read this, rather than laughing at this like I should have (because I'm a big dork), my first thought was, I thought Data couldn't say contractions.

Death Becomes Her

I can't remember where I first saw this, but at this site you plug in your weight and drink choice and then push the Kill Me button. It calculates how much caffeine it would take to uh, kill you.

The good news: After 174.79 cans of Diet Dr Pepper, you'd be pushing up daisies

The bad news: 66.66 cups of Brewed Coffee + You = Death. And 28.66 cups of Starbucks Short Coffee + You = Death

Except...I brew Starbucks at home. To be on the safe side, I'd better cut back a bit. Not that I'm anywhere close to 28 or 66 cups a day. Of course, I drink out of really big mugs, too.

Table For One

I don't mind eating alone at restaurants. I don't think I'd ever done it (except at fast food places, and even then, rarely) before this summer. I think most solo eaters eat at the bar or at someplace where they're not taking up a whole table. I'm not sure what the protocol is, but I always ask for a table. I tip well, so I figure that, as long as the place isn't packed, I shouldn't feel bad about taking a table by myself. I eat late lunches and early dinners (not usually in the same day and probably never both at restaurants) so this usually isn't a problem.

Other solo diners read books or magazines. I just sit there and think. Sometimes I just sit there. I don't mind. Maybe someday it would get boring, but so far I kind of like it. I can eat as slowly as I want (which is very slow). I can pick out all the yucky stuff like tomatoes, without thinking what people are thinking of my behavior. I can eat all of one kind of food before moving on. I can eat my whole meal without drinking. And no one will say anything. Because it's just me!

Something I like about cooking for one is that I can make whatever I want. I can put in all the ingredients I like without having to think, oh, they don't like X and then try to think of a good compromise when it's really impossible since the dish is called X, X, X, and eggs with an X sauce or something silly like that. Also, if what you're cooking sucks, hey, it's only that one portion.

Of course, there are "cons" too. You have to do the dishes since it's just you. None of that, "I cooked, so you have to clean." Bummer, I know. Furthermore that there aren't many recipes that cook well for one that I would want to eat very frequently. There's only so many rice puddings or sandwiches or chef's salads that I can stand to eat. But tonight I made sesame shrimp with noodles. And it was tasty.

My cookies are sort of hard and crumbly. Tasty but really messy. I need a job so I can give them away to unsuspecting people. Or I need more neighbors.

I'm making cinnamon sugar cookies

But first, I had to go to the store to get cream of tartar. But it made me wonder what is cream of tartar?

Chemically it is potassium hydrogen tartrate, KC ₄ H ₅ O ₆ , the acidic potassium salt of tartaric acid . It is used as the leavening agent in baking powders. An impure form, called tartar or argol, forms naturally during the fermentation of grape juice into wine and crystallizes in the wine casks. [from encyclopedia.com. What, like I knew that?]

But that doesn't help me. I'm too dumb for these cookies, I think. And when someone is too dumb for cookies, well, that's a bad thing. However, I'm going to be extra-optimistic today and make those cookies anyway. I don't need to know the mechanics of a cookie; I just need to follow the directions. Right?

Gimme some lovin'

I have an audioblog lined up for the near future.

I'm not going to tell you who it is (so don't ask), but I'm taking questions that You, The People Want To Know.

So if you have any questions, um, leave them in the comments.

I'll scratch this off my list of Ways To Repay My Student Loans

"The price of ovum of a Korean woman is known to be cheaper than Japanese woman's."

I guess I'll have to get a real job.

Via Fark.

This is post #801. Wow!

Rather than do something awesome or even just original for such a historical occasion, I'll rip off a meme. The thing is, I don't like being meme-d, but I'll take them when I see them. Sometimes.

Dante: But you hate people.
Randal: Yes, but I love gatherings. Isn't it ironic?

10 FAVORITES
Favorite Color: Purple, because it's impractical
Favorite Food: Macaroni and cheese
Favorite Month: September, I guess. Maybe October.
Favorite Song: Elgar's Enigma Variations IX (Nimrod)
Favorite Movie: None, but And Now for Something Completely Different would be up there
Favorite Sport: Hockey
Favorite Season: Hockey
Favorite Day of the week: Thursday
Favorite Ice Cream Flavor: Something chocolatey or coffee-ey
Favorite Time of Day: Late night

9 CURRENTS
Current Mood: Goofy
Current Taste: Um, what? What do I taste like? Pizza.
Current Clothes: White t-shirt, ultra low-rise (while I still can) jeans, beige argyle (the pattern is light green, blue, and yellow) socks, black Sketchers. And, of course, all the requisite undergarments.
Current Desktop: Vacation photo
Current Toenail Color: None, but they're buffed. Did 'em yesterday while the cable was out.
Current Time: 7:31
Current Surroundings: A**holes. "I knew it! I'm surrounded by a**holes!"
Current Thoughts: Should I eat another cookie? All my neighbors are gone, so I can't give them away. Yes, I should eat another cookie.

8 FIRSTS
First Best Friend: Melissa B.
First Kiss: Ever - Austin; "Romantic" - Nate
First Screen Name: Collette on IRC
First Pet: Limerick
First Piercing: Earlobes
First Crush: Austin
First CD: Ten

7 LASTS
Last Cigarette:
Last Drink: Water; "Adult beverage": Shiner
Last Car Ride: This morning to the vet's
Last Kiss: That's a great song
Last Movie Seen: Jarhead
Last Phone Call: A friend's mom
Last CD Played: The Very Best of Dwight Yoakam

6 HAVE YOU EVERS
Have You Ever Dated One Of Your Best Guy/Girl Friends: No on both counts
Have You Ever Broken the Law: Yes
Have You Ever Been Arrested: No
Have You Ever Skinny Dipped: No, I can't swim
Have You Ever Been on TV: Yes. I got to answer some questions from a guy on the local news about a parade I was in or something.
Have You Ever Kissed Someone You Didn't Know: No

5 THINGS
Thing You're Wearing: Three mismatched earrings?
Thing You've Done Today: Waited for a repairman
Thing You Can Hear Right Now: TV from the other room
Thing You Can't Live Without: Air supply
Thing You Do When You're Bored: Pick at my cuticles

4 PLACES YOU'VE BEEN TODAY
1. Home
2. Car
3. Vet's
4. Mailbox

3 PEOPLE YOU CAN TELL ANYTHING TO
1. You know who you are. No, not you. You.
2. Thomas (but not Misha)
3. My stuffed panda

2 CHOICES
1. Black or White: Black
2. Hot or Cold: Cold

1 THING YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
Practice law. At this point, I may just die first.

Note to alterations people

Thanks for not losing my pants by properly tagging them.

However, I would prefer that you not hide the tag on the inside of the fly of my pants. Second, I would appreciate you not stapling it to my pants. Because stapling my fly together confuses me when I try to put them on.

Note to self - Next time, when using a staple remover to remove those staples on my fly, take pants off first.

Note to others - A staple remover actually works. I wasn't sure it would.

Why'd you come in here looking like that

In your cowboy boots and your painted-on jeans
All decked out like a cowgirl's dream
Why'd you come in here looking like that
----------------------------------------------------------------
I talked to my sister Special K the other night. Our conversation can be summed up in two sentences:

1. Good job on passing the bar.
   
2. "You'd better wear out your low-rise jeans because once you turn 30, you'll be way too old to wear them."

My birthday is this month. I'm not turning 30 but I'm certainly getting there. I may just start saying I'm turning 35 so then people will really be impressed. Then I'll get to be 35 for a few years.

In all fairness, considering how short I am, I have to get ultra low-rise for them to begin to be low-rise. So I plan on wearing normal-people-low-rise (i.e., nice and comfortable for me and not at all indecent...sorry to disappoint) for at least the next 82 years or so. I know that's fashion anathema to Special K, but it's not my fault she's taller than me. I mean, she's at least 5'1.

Despairing housewife

I woke up at 7:00 a.m. For someone with no job or pressing demands, that is early. I was checking my email and suddenly all cable (internet and tv) went out. For the next 11 hours. Well, tv came back on around 3 or 4, but the internet(s) just now came back online.

With no tv or internet, I got bored. I had to do things.

• I cleaned up my room a bit, threw away a bunch of crap I should have thrown away like, 6 years ago but didn't. Found my high school diploma, cap and gown, announcements, and every single patch I had earned from junior high up. Wow, I lettered in two sports? Maybe I stole those from a kid I beat up or something.
• Cleaning isn't fun, so I had to resort to reading. A BOOK. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, if you must know. I was disappointed because it wasn't very interactive - no comments, no Open Link In New Tab, no scrolling, etc. It's the first book I've read since...um, the hurricane, and I didn't even finish that one. Ever since the bar, I gave up reading. It was too tiresome. I would read half a book and not even care how it ended. I'd just stop. I don't get pleasure out of it anymore.
• I watched A make me lunch. Yes, I understand that I'm the housewife, but that doesn't mean I cook. (So you don't think I'm completely inept--I usually make him lunch, but I think he was in a hurry today)
  
• I waited around all day because I thought they were going to haul off my car. At 4:30 I figured maybe tomorrow, so I put on some socks. Not just any socks...knee socks. With argyle and drawstrings at the top so you can make a little bow.
  

Naturally, the doorbell rang at 5:03. I didn't have time to put on longer pants or shorter socks, so I just answered the door in the World's Nerdiest Outfit - khaki shorts, argyle knee socks, and a heather gray t-shirt, that, had my name been on it, would have been perfect for junior high PE. I also had my Nerdy Glasses on (I suffered an eye injury this morning while medicating Thomas's ear) and was holding my Nerdy Book. I saw the car-tower-awayer guy suppress a smile or a laugh or a barf, I'm not sure which. Maybe all. (Perhaps my dear cousin could grace me with a drawing of my entry for World's Nerdiest Outfit.)

I understand "normal" people don't wear knee socks. Or argyle socks. Or socks with drawstrings. But I was not expecting anyone, so I deserve a break.

They took off the plates and let me have them. Then they drove the Mazda up on a ramp and left. I watched them through the window. As I was writing this post, my mom IMed me and asked if I was sad about the car. I said yes. After making sure I wasn't going to run after the tow truck, she said she had to go because CSI was coming on.

Thomas has a check up tomorrow at the vet because he had a bad ear infection last week. And they found a murmur, so he's officially "very old" now in cat years. Anyway, I guess I'll be taking the truck from now on. The vet trip will be my first solo trip in it, since A supervised my first one. The vet is as far as I drive into town, so this will be an interesting and probably scary for me experience. Wish me luck.

Nooooooooooo!

I just got a phone call from a girl named Randy. That part isn't what disturbs me.

They're coming to take away my Mazda tomorrow. Or maybe the next day. But probably tomorrow. I may go sit in it for a while. This is sad.
A cleaned out most of it yesterday. Here's what he found.


Afterward, I went through and did the fine scavenging, you know, spare nickels and pennies, some hairpins, a free pen I stole from someplace. The important stuff. There's also two bite-sized Snickers bars in the trunk. Who knows how old they are? I'm leaving them, along with a bottle of water I put in there when I went golfing. In 2002.

As far as the multiple maps of Texas go, I can't explain how I still get lost. Perhaps because I never looked at the maps. And the map of London? Unexplainable. I truly have no idea what it was doing in there.

Beware Koreans (fine, just me) bearing gifts

My last neighbors standing are moving today.

I made them cookies. Real, homemade cookies, not out of a package or a box. Naturally, this was an all-day project. I made them crunchy peanut butter cookies. It was supposed to make 48. It made 40. I ate 2. So now I was down to 38. Well, they wouldn't know how many it was supposed to make. I put about a dozen cookies into a throw-away kind of plastic container. At first I had put more, but when I pressed the lid down, I broke most of the top layer of cookies in half. Son of a bee sting. I took the broken ones out.

So I go out, plastic cookie container and the best-looking, not-broken cookies in hand, and the guy, K, is sweeping the driveway.

Hey, K. I heard you guys are moving tomorrow, so I made you some cookies to take on the road. I'm sorry.

Nononono...wait. I didn't mean for it to sound like I was sorry I made them cookies. It was supposed to sound like I was sorry they were moving. Grr. Try again.

I mean, I hope you're not allergic to peanuts.

D'oh! Not only should I have maybe thought of this earlier, but I shouldn't have said anything now.

Because they're peanut butter. Um, sorry if you are.

Okay, this wasn't going any better than before. I should have left it at one apology for baking them cookies. Now I might really be sorry. I can't imagine being responsible for anaphylactic shock on the road, killing them and their three dogs.

Well, I'm not much of a cook as you can see [look down at my giant protruding gut {to be fair, mostly beer, and I don't make beer...okay, that's actually not true, but a story for another time} and try to suck it in], but so far, we've survived everything I've made, and also I ate some of these, and I'm still alive. But that was only like 5 minutes ago, so I guess something could still happen....

Stop. Just stop right there! They're going to call the police!

Luckily, K stopped me by just taking the cookies. Thanks, Elaine. That's great. That's so nice of you. He takes the cookies to his wife and asks me if I want the container back. I assure him it's totally trashable and note mentally that the cookies are as well, except that, really, they're not very bad. In fact, they're "okay." Not too hard, not too soft. I even did the cross-hatches with the fork. See?

Okay, so a little extra flour on that one cookie. But other than that, pretty good. Very good for me, if you're grading on a curve.

Hello, I would like to buy a fish license, please.

I'm hoping they don't have a cat detector van around here. In LSC, they had a pet license that cost $30. I never got it. Luckily, I left there without incident. Because time in the clink for this might have been hard to explain to the board of law examiners.

Via Fark

He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch, he goes to the lavat'ry. On Wednesdays he goes shopping and has buttered scones for tea

Fark is great because it keeps me up on my Mountie news.








Since I'm already on the topic of Mounties, I just want to say that I was really excited to check my Sitemeter and find that I got a visitor from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Sweet!











Did I ever tell you I had some Mounties trading cards? Well, I did. It was, now let's see...in 2000, I think. I think I threw them away a couple of moves ago because it's not like I had anyone to trade with. I saw the Mounties at the state fair doing basically the equivalent of a band marching show except with horses. They had a little dirt zamboni kind of thing (like what they drag around at baseball games...a giant rake attached to a small tractor) to smooth things out between the warm-up and the show. Afterwards you could go down to the front and pet the horses and talk to the Mounties.




Okay, so this picture is sort of gratuitous, but it does have Mounties and Stanley. Really, there was no point to it, but I sort of liked this picture. It's got all my favorite elements in it.

Friday Cat Blogging

Unpacking makes Thomas tired.

Actually, I've unpacked this box, but my really good picture of the cats sleeping near each other I guess got deleted, so you guys get this really old picture. Tough beans.

Barely Legal*: Day 1

I've done a lot today for a new lawyer. I imagine that being a new lawyer is sort of like being born-again. I mean, I was a lawyer (technically) when I graduated. Now I'm a license-able one. It's exciting. Can you feel my excitement?

Last night I ate a dinner I cooked (myself!) and some really old cookies I probably shouldn't have and then ended up with a stomachache (I think unrelated to the dinner but maybe related to the cookies). So there was no celebrating unless a fine bottle of vintage (pre-Hurricane) Ozarka counts. Then I watched a show on octopuses and squids and cuttlefish. I know. The professional life is exciting.

Already today I have:

• Closed a bank account (saving up for first lawsuit against me)
  
• Got my pants fixed (I went to a different tailor who managed to fix the first tailor's mistakes and even made them look decent and didn't even turn them into Daisy Dukes)
  
• Completed my transition into being the first Tex-Asian redneck in the Deep South

Yes, I learned yesterday that my car is officially totalled so they'll be hauling it off sometime soon. Which meant I had to learn to drive the truck without getting into another accident.

I had heartburn before I even got in. But I didn't hit anything, even a curb. I'm not so great at parking the Great White just yet, but I figure I'll be like most jackasses who drive trucks and just park across 4 spaces, right?

* Minimally competent. I mean, I look young, but not that young. Actual scores should be mailed to me soon. Then I'll know just how barely legal I am. Not that it matters. A pass is a pass is a pass, thank goodness.

I'm bad, I'm nationwide

Disclaimer: Not quite, but I am statewide. Or will be.
-----------------------------------

I have waited so long to use both of the following hyperlinked words in the same sentence. Really, I've been saving it for something worthy. Finally, that day has come.

I passed the bar! --> It's not only esquilicious but also a bit juridiculous, as demonstrated by my new shirt, a graduation gift from a friend.

Hmm

I was leaving the post office today and noticed a car with a sticker from St. Crispin's on it. That's a bit out of place here...I mean, even I don't have one of those.

Then I noticed it also had an insurance magnet thing on the side...you know, the kind of giant magnetized sign you can just slap on the side of your car. It made me wonder if it was my classmate. And if it was, I wondered if she could expedite my car accident claim because I'm tired of having to think about it. Right then, for a split second, I wished I had been nicer to her back in school. I'm over it now.

The Pink McPanther

I've been doing a bit of investigation into NDC because, well, he's a shady character.

Now, let me say something...if your name begins and ends with the letter M and has an O in the middle, or you're married to someone with that name, or if you wouldn't click on a link to Naked Drinking Coffee at work...maybe now is not the time to start. Mom. Dad. Anyone related to me. Don't ask how I find these things. They find me. Okay...that's not true. But still...it would be awkward to have to discuss this when I'm home for Thanksgiving.

With that long-ish disclaimer over with, I proudly pronounce that I have found NDC and he is alive and well. He took a little trip to Canada. And didn't even invite me. *sniff, sniff*

HA!

So, Lone Star, now you see that evil will always triumph because trunk or treating is dumb.

Via Fark

Relax! Don't do it, when you want to go to it

I had my third massage today. It was slightly better than the first two except for a couple of things.

For part of the massage, she used one of those muscle-relaxing creams. You know, like Ben Gay, except not nearly as odorific. They've done a lot to improve them, I guess. Anyway, I didn't know she would be using it, but I was trying to place that smell. That took like 10 minutes of solid concentration. Finally, it hit me - modeling clay. Yes, it smelled faintly of modeling clay. Why was she massaging me with modeling clay? I peeked open one eye. It wasn't modeling clay. I was satisfied and went back to trying to pretend I was relaxing.

There was a point where I strongly felt that she was about to tickle me. Maliciously. She was doing my arms and had them raised up in the air. I was really really afraid she was going to just going to go straight for my armpits and tickle away. Is that logical? No. But I really was afraid of it, and so I kept shrinking into the table. I was too embarrassed to say, "If you tickle me, I swear I'm going to kick you into next week," so I just hoped she wouldn't. She didn't.

Towards the end, she had a small coughing fit. I laid there with my eyes closed for the first few coughs. She coughed a bit harder. My god, is she choking? Should I help? But...I'm almost naked! Well, if she stops coughing and doesn't resume the massage, I'll open one eye to see if she's asphyxiating. If so, I'll wrap a sheet around me and give her the Heimlich or something. But let's see if she coughs a couple more times. She lived. I continued to lay there, grateful. I didn't want to accidentally break a rib trying to save her life and then have her sue me.

Improvements
She only had to tell me to relax two or three times. Hooray!
I didn't laugh at all.
I don't feel all achey like I have after other massages.
Popping my back afterwards was truly beautiful. It felt great.

The Queen of West Nile

I have at least 10 large mosquito bites from sitting outside on Halloween. The only plus to that costume was that the boots were knee-high. However, the skirt was really short. So I'm covered in mosquito bites on my thighs, and one on my neck for good measure. They're really BIG ones. Big giant welts.

It would really suck if I got West Nile from one of those damn mosquitos. Almost as much as a big earthquake to my area. Hurricanes, I knew I had to worry about. Earthquakes too? Apparently, we're worse than New Orleans! What has this state done to deserve so much trouble? (Heh...the answer, according to local graffiti artists is, apparently, not enough repentence for the "Confederate hexxx" [yes, spelled with 3 Xs].)

What do you mean, bleh?

WOW! I was shopping today (at the local grocery store, since there isn't much shopping to be had anymore, but I hear they are going to reopen part of the formerly-crappy mall, so at least we'll have different stuff to look at now) and I saw that they're making Spam singles. You know, like slices of cheese. !!!

They come in little foil packages like the pre-drained tuna (which is awesome unless you have cats, and then they want to know where the juice is), except it's pre-drained Spam, I guess. I didn't buy one. Now I'm sort of wishing I had.

Lovely Spam! Wonderful Spam! (Now in singles)

Update: Dang. Apparently they have been out since like, April or something. But...I was graduating, studying for the bar, moving a few dozen times, and evacuating and stuff. I didn't have time to be standing around in no potted meat section or whatnot.

At any rate, I'll be spending a lot of time at this site from now on.

The day after

The Hello Kitty pumpkin was a smashing big success. ALL the girls knew what it was. I was repeatedly told I was "awesome" and it was the "best pumpkin." I was pleased by that, seeing as how I broke my pumpkin-cutting teeth on her. And because every man was confused by it. "Is it a witch?" "Oh, hmm...Mickey Mouse?" Boys.

The Stars pumpkin didn't have much critical acclaim. "Look, the Dallas Cowboys!" Every time I heard that, I wished I had accidentally stabbed my ear instead of that pumpkin, because nothing hurts worse than having to hear about the Cowboys. I am NOT, repeat, NOT a Cowboys fan. Even for free tickets. Okay, so there was one little boy who actually had a concept of who the Stars were, but he was nonplussed: "You should have made a Cowboys pumpkin. They're cooler." Okay, that's one very small piece of candy for the kid with an opinion.

---------------------------------

How do you turn down kids who are too old or too young for candy?

I've never actually done it, but I'd like to. I give the extra small and the extra tall fewer pieces than the kids who are taller than my knees and shorter than myself. That pretty much gives me 3 or 4 year olds up to 10 or 11, maybe. It depends on the kid.

I used to tell kids when I lived in Dallas that I wouldn't give candy to them if they were taller than me. I always did, but they'd always roll their eyes. Since their candy sacks were their backpacks, I never felt bad about putting one measly piece in. And if you can drive yourself trick-or-treating, you're way too old.

I didn't have that problem as much in LSC. I mainly had lots of infants, who, to be fair, were dressed up. Usually in good costumes. But how hard is it to force a baby to be a pumpkin or the dog from Blue's Clues? It's when kids can start talking and saying they want to be a Ninja Turtle that they become difficult. I always felt it was strange for those parents to be getting candy for their infants. Perhaps I should have warned them of the choking hazards. Or given out those teething cookies.

---------------------------------

Something interesting happened last night that had never happened before - everyone seemed to think that A and I were neighbors who were handing out candy together. I thought that was really weird, because we were dressed alike (well, both Star Trek). True, we do share a wide driveway with our neighbors, but we were sitting on the same side of the driveway with our candy and pumpkins, and our neighbor's side was dark.

At first, I just thought those people were kind of dumb, but A speculated that they didn't consider us together because we're, um, you know...mixed. (I have to giggle when I say that, because it sounds so dumb. Like we're the disappointing "party mix" that's always 80% peanuts and only 2% almonds.)


I dismissed it because the first woman who said that was part of a "mixed" couple herself. But by the third or fourth parent who said, "Don't forget to go to the other house [meaning me]; she's giving out candy too!" I had to wonder.

I used to have neighbors that never talked to me because I wasn't...well, you know...like them. Um, white. I can't remember any neighbors in the three years we lived in that house who weren't white. We lived next door to a parsonage, and the only time the wife ever spoke to me was when I was going nuts trying to open the garage door from my car and the electricity had gone out. She stood there and watched me for a good while then scared the bejesus out of me by jumping in front of my car and tapping on my window.

The other neighbors used to go inside when I would come outside. Really.

But they would always talk to A.

After about a year, I was able to talk to the neighbors across the street. We became sort of friends, i.e., they didn't go inside when I came outside, and I could pay their boys to do lawn chores and take care of the yard when I was gone.

I don't really have that problem here because my only remaining neighbors are moving this week. Including my house, I think there will only be four houses occupied on this entire block. On the far end, they were gutted by the bay waters. On this end, most had roof damage or tree damage. Oh well. Maybe I'll get neighbors by the time it's Girl Scout cookie time.