The other night after watching an episode of How I Met Your Mother in bed on Jeremiah's laptop, I began digging under the covers.
Jeremiah: What are you doing?
Me: I am looking for an adhesive bandage.
J: Why is there a bandage loose in bed?
Me: Well, last night after my bath I was drying off and Mel was walking around the tub and fell in. When she hopped out she was all wet and she skidded around awhile and she accidentally and yet very badly, scratched me on the side of my foot.
J:So a bandage.
Me: Yes. You will know it when you find it because it is huge and it has a cartoon airplane on the side. And also? It is covered with my blood.
J:Great.
I am not going to lie, Friends. For awhile I thought there was a good chance that the band-aid had gone to the dogs (As in, literally. Eaten by the dogs. Probably Spike. Although Atticus does have a love of all things tissue flavored.) but Jeremiah persevered and found my Jay Jay the Jet Plane bandage adhered to the floor the next morning.
P.S. Stay tuned for FtVF. Next Thursday will be a driving lesson. I hope you took last week's lesson to heart, Friends. Let's quit parking like asshats.

It doesn't have a lot of trees, animals, or any big lakes, but it does have its perks. Sunshine every day and a daily forecast of warm or hot. This has two benefits. One, getting dressed is a snap. Two, every day is sandal day! Arizona isn't perfect, but it is where we are currently calling home. We are just two youngsters from the Midwest, trying to survive in the desert. And this is our story.
2.29.2012
2.27.2012
Oh, No. Not a Beer Snob At All.
We've got new neighbors.
Mary-Next-Door moved at the beginning of January and we were relishing the silence and lack of diesel vehicles next door.
Not that Mary was bad, she wasn't, not at all.
She sold me these bowls at her yard sale:
Anyway, so she moved out. This weekend, the new people moved in. Jeremiah and I were hoping for a couple similar to ourselves - quiet, thoughtful neighbors. Aged appropriately, like us. We were hoping for people down with listening to some music, playing some games, and just hanging out. We were hoping for some nerds like us.
We had our first "Danger, Will Robinson" moment when they rolled up in a cheap sports car tricked out with a spoiler so big it could have acted as the doorway to Narnia.
But we remained hopeful. Right up until they were hanging around with friends after moving everything out of the Uhaul. We were getting ready to head out ourselves, so as Jeremiah was unlocking and opening my door for me I was spying.
Jeremiah: What do you see?
Me: Well, I see an Orange County Choppers shirt. This causes me to shiver just a bit, as I am not a car* person.
Jeremiah: No big deal. He's not swayed in the least.
Me: I see a guy wearing a shirt that says "F*CK Scottsdale" This gets smirks and snorts from both of us.
Jeremiah: In front of their kids? Not so cool, I guess.
Me: Um, and they are all smoking and...
Jeremiah: And what?
Me: No, I can't. You won't like it.
Jeremiah: Tell me. I can take it. He braces himself.
Me: They are drinking Miller Lite.
Jeremiah: Oh my god.
Me: Out of cans.
Jeremiah: Silence. Forget it. It would never work between us.
And we drive away.
It occurs to me. In all the years that I have known Jeremiah, I have never seen him drink a beer from a can. Not once. And when I call him a beer snob he gets all upset. I am sorry, but you gotta call a spade a spade, you know?
So I don't think our new neighbors will become our besties, but who knows. Never give up.
P.S. Let's re-examine the bowls. Because they are that beautiful. When I use them I will fondly remember the short little woman with teased bottle blonde hair who could have easily been called a cougar, who hit on Jeremiah and wore short shorts. Sigh. Those were the good old days.
* Believe it or not, I actually know that OC Choppers is about bikes. As in, motorcycles. Not because I ever watched the show, but because I did watch Miami Ink religiously while it was on and they did tats for the guys in the shop. So why did I say cars? I think I might have been using cars as an interchangeable word for "thing that moves and goes vroom and gets you from Point A to Point B". That's my only defense.
Mary-Next-Door moved at the beginning of January and we were relishing the silence and lack of diesel vehicles next door.
Not that Mary was bad, she wasn't, not at all.
She sold me these bowls at her yard sale:
Anyway, so she moved out. This weekend, the new people moved in. Jeremiah and I were hoping for a couple similar to ourselves - quiet, thoughtful neighbors. Aged appropriately, like us. We were hoping for people down with listening to some music, playing some games, and just hanging out. We were hoping for some nerds like us.
We had our first "Danger, Will Robinson" moment when they rolled up in a cheap sports car tricked out with a spoiler so big it could have acted as the doorway to Narnia.
But we remained hopeful. Right up until they were hanging around with friends after moving everything out of the Uhaul. We were getting ready to head out ourselves, so as Jeremiah was unlocking and opening my door for me I was spying.
Jeremiah: What do you see?
Me: Well, I see an Orange County Choppers shirt. This causes me to shiver just a bit, as I am not a car* person.
Jeremiah: No big deal. He's not swayed in the least.
Me: I see a guy wearing a shirt that says "F*CK Scottsdale" This gets smirks and snorts from both of us.
Jeremiah: In front of their kids? Not so cool, I guess.
Me: Um, and they are all smoking and...
Jeremiah: And what?
Me: No, I can't. You won't like it.
Jeremiah: Tell me. I can take it. He braces himself.
Me: They are drinking Miller Lite.
Jeremiah: Oh my god.
Me: Out of cans.
Jeremiah: Silence. Forget it. It would never work between us.
And we drive away.
It occurs to me. In all the years that I have known Jeremiah, I have never seen him drink a beer from a can. Not once. And when I call him a beer snob he gets all upset. I am sorry, but you gotta call a spade a spade, you know?
So I don't think our new neighbors will become our besties, but who knows. Never give up.
P.S. Let's re-examine the bowls. Because they are that beautiful. When I use them I will fondly remember the short little woman with teased bottle blonde hair who could have easily been called a cougar, who hit on Jeremiah and wore short shorts. Sigh. Those were the good old days.
* Believe it or not, I actually know that OC Choppers is about bikes. As in, motorcycles. Not because I ever watched the show, but because I did watch Miami Ink religiously while it was on and they did tats for the guys in the shop. So why did I say cars? I think I might have been using cars as an interchangeable word for "thing that moves and goes vroom and gets you from Point A to Point B". That's my only defense.
Labels:
bargains,
Conversations I can't make up,
friends,
housewares,
Jeremiah,
neighbors
2.24.2012
FtFV - I Squash You.
Due to conferences, sickness, and twelve hour work days, I did not share from the vault last Friday.
My deepest and most insincere apologies for that.
How's this:
It's one of my favorite collages. It actually originated as some shots that I did not like, but when I put them together I loved it.
Then Jeremiah said it was just like Monty Python and I told him that A: He was a nerd, and 2: No it was NOT like Monty Python.
Then he found a Monty Python clip (oh, some cartoon nudity, so watch at your own risk):
And it turns out the nerd was right.
I HATE that.
Happy Friday, Friends!
My deepest and most insincere apologies for that.
How's this:
It's one of my favorite collages. It actually originated as some shots that I did not like, but when I put them together I loved it.
Then Jeremiah said it was just like Monty Python and I told him that A: He was a nerd, and 2: No it was NOT like Monty Python.
Then he found a Monty Python clip (oh, some cartoon nudity, so watch at your own risk):
And it turns out the nerd was right.
I HATE that.
Happy Friday, Friends!
Labels:
From the Vault,
Gnorm,
Jeremiah,
movies
2.23.2012
Let's Start with the Basics - Parking.
Ready, Friends?
It is that time of the week. The time when you take a break from all that work you are doing for your weekly driving lesson.
We are going to start with an easy one.
Or more accurately, what should be an easy one.
Parking.
Do you know what chaps my ass?
This:
Rule Number One: When you park, you have to park (by law) in the direction that the traffic flows. Passenger side against the curb. IT JUST MAKES SENSE. That way, when you go to drive away from your parking spot, you are NOT driving on the WRONG side of the road.
In addition, your craptastic parking job won't freak out regular, less imaginative drivers who are driving down the correct side of the road.
You would think especially near intersections, like in the photo above, you would stick to the rules. Apparently NOT SO MUCH.
Exhibit B:
To be fair, I was a country girl growing up and did not have to do street parking. My senior year of college I had to park on the street for like, two minutes, and my friend Derek went ape-shit and informed me that I was on the wrong side and I should move my car immediately. Friends don't let friends park on the wrong side of the road.
But apparently the police do.
And I am SORRY, but if you have lived in the city or cramped suburbs, you have NO excuse. You should know the rules.
And then let us examine Exhibit 3: Parking Lot
I took these pictures of Old Red IN ONE DAY. Old Red is in the center. In general, this is how bad the parking is in Arizona. People are not only incapable of parking correctly on the street, but it is also a challenge to pull forward into a spot. And forget backing up and straightening the cars out a bit. That would be an inconvenience.
I got a new car (more on this later) and I have already been scraped up in the school parking lot. In addition, Jeremiah says that my new vehicle is a magnet for crappy drivers. We go into a store? No one parked around me. We come out? Idiots parked in the same parking spot as me. Not next to me, but squished right in there with me.
Bastards.
So I guess what I am saying is this: Be aware of parking rules in your area. People do NOT love it when you park on the wrong side of the road. You are NOT too special to follow the rules like everyone else. Suck it up and turn your freaking car around. And if you park crookedly, back the freak up and try it again.
Believe it or not, people notice your parking. And if they are like me and you park like this, they laugh at you and curse the day you were born.
And then they post the pictures online.
P.S. Okay, let's hear it. You KNOW there is something that irks you about other drivers. Spill.
It is that time of the week. The time when you take a break from all that work you are doing for your weekly driving lesson.
We are going to start with an easy one.
Or more accurately, what should be an easy one.
Parking.
Do you know what chaps my ass?
This:
Rule Number One: When you park, you have to park (by law) in the direction that the traffic flows. Passenger side against the curb. IT JUST MAKES SENSE. That way, when you go to drive away from your parking spot, you are NOT driving on the WRONG side of the road.
In addition, your craptastic parking job won't freak out regular, less imaginative drivers who are driving down the correct side of the road.
You would think especially near intersections, like in the photo above, you would stick to the rules. Apparently NOT SO MUCH.
Exhibit B:
To be fair, I was a country girl growing up and did not have to do street parking. My senior year of college I had to park on the street for like, two minutes, and my friend Derek went ape-shit and informed me that I was on the wrong side and I should move my car immediately. Friends don't let friends park on the wrong side of the road.
But apparently the police do.
And I am SORRY, but if you have lived in the city or cramped suburbs, you have NO excuse. You should know the rules.
And then let us examine Exhibit 3: Parking Lot
![]() |
I got a new car (more on this later) and I have already been scraped up in the school parking lot. In addition, Jeremiah says that my new vehicle is a magnet for crappy drivers. We go into a store? No one parked around me. We come out? Idiots parked in the same parking spot as me. Not next to me, but squished right in there with me.
Bastards.
So I guess what I am saying is this: Be aware of parking rules in your area. People do NOT love it when you park on the wrong side of the road. You are NOT too special to follow the rules like everyone else. Suck it up and turn your freaking car around. And if you park crookedly, back the freak up and try it again.
Believe it or not, people notice your parking. And if they are like me and you park like this, they laugh at you and curse the day you were born.
And then they post the pictures online.
Labels:
az,
car,
etiquette,
highway to hell,
lessons to learn
2.21.2012
It's a Bunch of B.S.
Last weekend Jeremiah went to get our basket by himself, as I'd been having some episodes with my muscles/joints lately and was exhausted (basket pick-up is at 7:00 on a SATURDAY).
Now, most of the time I recognize everything, even if it is something I've never eaten before (with the exception of the figs). Like, I recognized pomegranates, even if I had never consumed them in their original form.
Except last weekend after I woke up and came downstairs, there were these things...odd little round things. They were kind of cute, really. A big bag of them. I looked at Jeremiah quizzically and held one up in sort of a silent question.
Do you know what they were?
A big ass bag of...
BRUSSEL SPROUTS.
Yes, the girl who can now eat tofu with a straight face and who will try just about anything (so long as it is not beef, pork, or squash) is terrified of brussel sprouts. Deceptively cute little buggers.
I was determined to try them.
So Jeremiah prepared them like this:
He used some EVOO and some Johnny's and to be honest...
I could not decide whether I was going to vomit or have seconds. Twenty-nine point two years of fear is a lot to deal with one night at dinner.
If you are like me and have never tried them before, they are meaty. They look like baby heads of lettuce but do not taste anything like lettuce. To me they taste slightly like a mix of peas, cauliflower, and broccoli. Just meaty. And I ended up not eating the outermost leaf and kind of scraping the insides out with my teeth.
Jeremiah loved them and said he would definitely eat them again.
I would probably eat them again, but request another vegetable alongside so as to not be restricted to one veggie that I only like in an okay way.
Thoughts on brussel sprouts? Is there another vegetable you hate? Love? Never tried?
P.S. You have not tried Johnny's, you are crazy and you are missing out. Deliciousness.
P.P.S. Every where I looked I saw brussels sprouts spelled differently. And so if you disagree with my spelling of it, I do not care. I probably disagree with it, too.
Now, most of the time I recognize everything, even if it is something I've never eaten before (with the exception of the figs). Like, I recognized pomegranates, even if I had never consumed them in their original form.
Except last weekend after I woke up and came downstairs, there were these things...odd little round things. They were kind of cute, really. A big bag of them. I looked at Jeremiah quizzically and held one up in sort of a silent question.
Do you know what they were?
A big ass bag of...
BRUSSEL SPROUTS.
Yes, the girl who can now eat tofu with a straight face and who will try just about anything (so long as it is not beef, pork, or squash) is terrified of brussel sprouts. Deceptively cute little buggers.
I was determined to try them.
So Jeremiah prepared them like this:
![]() | ||||
I made the picture extra big so it could be like you were right here with me, trying them and everything. |
I could not decide whether I was going to vomit or have seconds. Twenty-nine point two years of fear is a lot to deal with one night at dinner.
If you are like me and have never tried them before, they are meaty. They look like baby heads of lettuce but do not taste anything like lettuce. To me they taste slightly like a mix of peas, cauliflower, and broccoli. Just meaty. And I ended up not eating the outermost leaf and kind of scraping the insides out with my teeth.
Jeremiah loved them and said he would definitely eat them again.
I would probably eat them again, but request another vegetable alongside so as to not be restricted to one veggie that I only like in an okay way.
Thoughts on brussel sprouts? Is there another vegetable you hate? Love? Never tried?
P.S. You have not tried Johnny's, you are crazy and you are missing out. Deliciousness.
P.P.S. Every where I looked I saw brussels sprouts spelled differently. And so if you disagree with my spelling of it, I do not care. I probably disagree with it, too.
Labels:
fears,
food,
gross,
I threw up in my mouth just a little
2.19.2012
Hammered
Jeremiah is currently working upstairs.
I am downstairs. Working on my lesson plans. Or blogging. Whatever.
A few seconds ago, he ran downstairs and out into the garage. He needed a hammer and a nail.
He came back in with "his" hammer.
Y'all?
It was my dad's. I found it when I cleaned out Old Red in January. Yes, it had been in my car for six years and I did not even know it.
Me: Eying hammer suspiciously Um, that hammer belongs to my dad. Gasp That's MY DAD'S HAMMER!
Me (again): I forgot about that one. I thought you were getting the one that I accidentally brought home from work. And kept.
Me (again and again): So wait. Technically I have two hammers and you have how many?
Jeremiah: huffy and indignant I have owned hammers before.
But I am not sure he has. Because I have managed to acquire two hammers in a period of six years, completely unintentionally. And I haven't lost either of them.
p.s. I also found the top saw part of a tree saw, several steak knives, and the world's largest screwdriver in the hidden compartments of Old Red. The screwdriver I found sitting below my windshield wipers after the car was fixed in CALIFORNIA. I totally could have injured myself or someone driving home with it resting there. I did not know what to do with it, so I added it to my apparent arsenal of rusty tools/weapons/kitchen cutlery in the back of Red where it remained for the last five years. Pretty soon I am going to need a toolbox. Or an alibi, because Friends? That's a lot of scary shit to be hauling unknowingly.
p.p.s. I found a ton of other stuff in there, too, over the years. Which is weird because I remember it getting cleaned out before my dad and I traded cars. Perhaps my dad wanted me to have these things. I think I remember him purposefully leaving some of it in the car (not the tree saw or knives). Anyway, I got some pretty great things like bungee cords and a tape measure. And I use both regularly. One time I whipped out my bungee cords and someone said "You keep those in your car?" and I was all "Duh. Who doesn't keep bungee cords in their car?". I am like a boyscout. Always prepared. And dad? FINDER'S KEEPERS. Except the tree saw. Because Jeremiah gets a scary look on his face and talks about altering it to use in the backyard. Please take that back ASAP.
I am downstairs. Working on my lesson plans. Or blogging. Whatever.
A few seconds ago, he ran downstairs and out into the garage. He needed a hammer and a nail.
He came back in with "his" hammer.
Y'all?
It was my dad's. I found it when I cleaned out Old Red in January. Yes, it had been in my car for six years and I did not even know it.
Me: Eying hammer suspiciously Um, that hammer belongs to my dad. Gasp That's MY DAD'S HAMMER!
Me (again): I forgot about that one. I thought you were getting the one that I accidentally brought home from work. And kept.
Me (again and again): So wait. Technically I have two hammers and you have how many?
Jeremiah: huffy and indignant I have owned hammers before.
But I am not sure he has. Because I have managed to acquire two hammers in a period of six years, completely unintentionally. And I haven't lost either of them.
p.s. I also found the top saw part of a tree saw, several steak knives, and the world's largest screwdriver in the hidden compartments of Old Red. The screwdriver I found sitting below my windshield wipers after the car was fixed in CALIFORNIA. I totally could have injured myself or someone driving home with it resting there. I did not know what to do with it, so I added it to my apparent arsenal of rusty tools/weapons/kitchen cutlery in the back of Red where it remained for the last five years. Pretty soon I am going to need a toolbox. Or an alibi, because Friends? That's a lot of scary shit to be hauling unknowingly.
p.p.s. I found a ton of other stuff in there, too, over the years. Which is weird because I remember it getting cleaned out before my dad and I traded cars. Perhaps my dad wanted me to have these things. I think I remember him purposefully leaving some of it in the car (not the tree saw or knives). Anyway, I got some pretty great things like bungee cords and a tape measure. And I use both regularly. One time I whipped out my bungee cords and someone said "You keep those in your car?" and I was all "Duh. Who doesn't keep bungee cords in their car?". I am like a boyscout. Always prepared. And dad? FINDER'S KEEPERS. Except the tree saw. Because Jeremiah gets a scary look on his face and talks about altering it to use in the backyard. Please take that back ASAP.
2.16.2012
You Are Welcome, Arizona
As I was nearly killed by an idiot with a license (a license to KILL, if you will) while driving on my way home from work the other day, I began to think about all the other times that I have been (or nearly been, I guess) sacrificed by the horrible drivers here in the state of Arizona.
Friends? They are REALLY bad. As in, deadliest state in the country for driving. I read that in a book about Arizona. For my Arizona class that I took a few years ago. To include a statistic like that, it is almost like they are proud of how crappily they drive.
I would include the actual page number and name of the book, but it accidentally on purpose disappeared shortly after the class finished. First book I have ever been happy to lose.
Anyway, as many of you know, in the state of Arizona, NO SORT OF DRIVING CLASSES ARE REQUIRED in order to get a license. You just go in, prove your age, and get to drive. I might be missing a few little steps, but this is generally how it goes.
I could be all stereotypical and blame the driving just on people who grew up here, but guess what? Arizona is the Plymouth Rock of the Southwest. Those of us that have migrated here are like the pilgrims (Who we all know were not exactly the cream of the crop in Europe. More like the hookers and prisoners.) We seem to have forgotten our skills upon arriving in the new land, friends. We really have. Plus, let us not forget the joy that is Sun City (where I would not mind living but I am not old enough) where the cars are big, the drivers are slow, and the paths those big slow cars drive are deadly.
So as my gift to Arizona, my gift to all of us, really, I am going to offer weekly (or every other weekly. It depends on how much other charity/volunteer work I am doing besides this.) driving tips on here. Now if you know a driver in another state that might need a gentle (or not so gentle) reminder that they are an asshat and need to practice their driving skills, please refer them here. Or forward it to them. Whatevs. I just want to give back to my community, you know?
Stay tuned next week for our first lesson. Please note that you should NOT be driving while reading this lesson. This is more like, instruction in the classroom, practice what you learn later sorts of education.
Friends? They are REALLY bad. As in, deadliest state in the country for driving. I read that in a book about Arizona. For my Arizona class that I took a few years ago. To include a statistic like that, it is almost like they are proud of how crappily they drive.
I would include the actual page number and name of the book, but it accidentally on purpose disappeared shortly after the class finished. First book I have ever been happy to lose.
Anyway, as many of you know, in the state of Arizona, NO SORT OF DRIVING CLASSES ARE REQUIRED in order to get a license. You just go in, prove your age, and get to drive. I might be missing a few little steps, but this is generally how it goes.
I could be all stereotypical and blame the driving just on people who grew up here, but guess what? Arizona is the Plymouth Rock of the Southwest. Those of us that have migrated here are like the pilgrims (Who we all know were not exactly the cream of the crop in Europe. More like the hookers and prisoners.) We seem to have forgotten our skills upon arriving in the new land, friends. We really have. Plus, let us not forget the joy that is Sun City (where I would not mind living but I am not old enough) where the cars are big, the drivers are slow, and the paths those big slow cars drive are deadly.
So as my gift to Arizona, my gift to all of us, really, I am going to offer weekly (or every other weekly. It depends on how much other charity/volunteer work I am doing besides this.) driving tips on here. Now if you know a driver in another state that might need a gentle (or not so gentle) reminder that they are an asshat and need to practice their driving skills, please refer them here. Or forward it to them. Whatevs. I just want to give back to my community, you know?
Stay tuned next week for our first lesson. Please note that you should NOT be driving while reading this lesson. This is more like, instruction in the classroom, practice what you learn later sorts of education.
Labels:
az,
dumb people,
education,
highway to hell,
lessons to learn
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