Not sure what to say about the year 2010 except that I’m glad it’s over and if 2011 isn’t better, I don’t know what I’ll do.
A random story to end the year…my son came upstairs holding a balled up tissue over his eye today.
My son: “Mommy! I have an emergency!!”
(insert panic here)
“The toilet won’t flush!”
Me: “What happened to your eye??????”
My son: “Oh yah, it’s bleeding.”
He scratched his eyelid on something, but I love that a broken toilet was his emergency and not his bloody eye. No wonder I have constant anxiety.
And to end…a quote from my brother after I complained about all the grounds in the pot of coffee he made “Well…life is hard and there are shitty surprises everywhere”. Indeed.
For everyone who also had the worst year of their lives…2011 is our year. For sure. Has to be…right??
Happy new year. :)
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Whiskey In the Jar-o
A couple Saturdays ago I went with a group of liquor lovers to the Montana RoughStock Distillery for a bottling party. RoughStock is a locally owned business and Montana’s first whiskey distillery in over 100 years. They use Montana barley and other local products to make the magic happen. We started with a tour of the facility, the history of whiskey and instructions on how to run the different stations. We all scurried to pick a task and were encouraged to test the product for “quality assurance” while we worked. We were able to move around and try out the different duties. I manned the bottling machine, the shrink wrap machine, applied stickers and the last station, which included writing the batch number, bottle number and personally signing the back of the label.
The details are a little fuzzy, but in the end 400 bottles were filled, corked, labeled, shrink wrapped, “Made In Montana” stickered, signed and boxed. A handful of people were intoxicated, one member was drooling and our bellies were full of Tarantino's Pizza, which tastes surprisingly as good during the day as it does at 2 am after a bar crawl.
Some of us left with bottles of whiskey, which range in price from $45-50 and free t-shirts:
It was an enjoyable way to spend a Saturday afternoon and a brilliant way to get free labor out of alcoholics.
http://www.montanawhiskey.com/
Montana Manhattan
¾ ounces Sweet Vermouth
2 ½ ounces RoughStock Whiskey
1 dash Angostura Bitters
1 Maraschino Cherry (or 4 if you’re hungry)
1 Twist Orange Peel
¾ ounces Sweet Vermouth
2 ½ ounces RoughStock Whiskey
1 dash Angostura Bitters
1 Maraschino Cherry (or 4 if you’re hungry)
1 Twist Orange Peel
The details are a little fuzzy, but in the end 400 bottles were filled, corked, labeled, shrink wrapped, “Made In Montana” stickered, signed and boxed. A handful of people were intoxicated, one member was drooling and our bellies were full of Tarantino's Pizza, which tastes surprisingly as good during the day as it does at 2 am after a bar crawl.
Some of us left with bottles of whiskey, which range in price from $45-50 and free t-shirts:
It was an enjoyable way to spend a Saturday afternoon and a brilliant way to get free labor out of alcoholics.
http://www.montanawhiskey.com/
Montana Manhattan
¾ ounces Sweet Vermouth
2 ½ ounces RoughStock Whiskey
1 dash Angostura Bitters
1 Maraschino Cherry (or 4 if you’re hungry)
1 Twist Orange Peel
¾ ounces Sweet Vermouth
2 ½ ounces RoughStock Whiskey
1 dash Angostura Bitters
1 Maraschino Cherry (or 4 if you’re hungry)
1 Twist Orange Peel
Monday, September 6, 2010
Blue Eyes...Cryin' In The Rain
This past Friday was the spectacular Willie Nelson concert. I bought my ticket 13 seconds after they went on sale and looked forward to it for two months. My friend and I drove to Big Sky where we proceeded to fill up on beer before the show started.
(Mmmmmm….beer)
We ate some food to soak up the beer, drank some more beer and then caught a shuttle to the pavilion. We arrived about 10 seconds before the last opening act performed.
(opening act…I don’t remember their name, but they were wonderful)
Even though we arrived late, we managed to secure a spot directly front and center, which irritated the dude near us who had waited there 3 hours.
(me rockin’ my cowgirl shirt happy to be right up front without the irritation of all that waiting)
The mob started to roll in fairly quickly at this point, but I was smart enough to bring a big tall dude who was smart enough to stand next to a big tall marine and between those two, they kept this very short claustrophobe from having a panic attack and getting squished. Kind of amazing (frightening actually) to watch people try to crush their way to the front…it’s like watching a zombie attack.
Safely nestled in front of my bodyguards, I anxiously awaited Willie. He finally came out and looked and sounded as incredible as I imagined. He had this guitar that was probably constructed in 1792 and sang all of my favorite songs. My throat hurt a little bit the next morning from all the off-key singing I did.
After the concert was over, we didn’t know where to catch a shuttle back to the car so we walked...for what seemed like hours and 100 miles. I complained the entire time and nearly sissied out at least 6 times (20 times). My friend kept lying and saying “we’re almost there”…then he bribed me with “Just COME ON! I’ll buy you a beer!” I got a second wind and made it, but next time I’m waiting for the damn shuttle.
It was a legendary night and the best part of the whole night? WILLIE.FREAKIN.NELSON.MADE.EYE.CONTACT.AND.WINKED….AT.ME. No joke.
Thanks to everyone who put up with me before the concert as I annoyed you with Willie lyrics the entire day. And thanks, Mike, for being the ONLY person brave enough to go with me. The whole day just made my year.
(Willie in his bandana)
(Willie in his cowboy hat)
(Mmmmmm….beer)
We ate some food to soak up the beer, drank some more beer and then caught a shuttle to the pavilion. We arrived about 10 seconds before the last opening act performed.
(opening act…I don’t remember their name, but they were wonderful)
Even though we arrived late, we managed to secure a spot directly front and center, which irritated the dude near us who had waited there 3 hours.
(me rockin’ my cowgirl shirt happy to be right up front without the irritation of all that waiting)
The mob started to roll in fairly quickly at this point, but I was smart enough to bring a big tall dude who was smart enough to stand next to a big tall marine and between those two, they kept this very short claustrophobe from having a panic attack and getting squished. Kind of amazing (frightening actually) to watch people try to crush their way to the front…it’s like watching a zombie attack.
Safely nestled in front of my bodyguards, I anxiously awaited Willie. He finally came out and looked and sounded as incredible as I imagined. He had this guitar that was probably constructed in 1792 and sang all of my favorite songs. My throat hurt a little bit the next morning from all the off-key singing I did.
After the concert was over, we didn’t know where to catch a shuttle back to the car so we walked...for what seemed like hours and 100 miles. I complained the entire time and nearly sissied out at least 6 times (20 times). My friend kept lying and saying “we’re almost there”…then he bribed me with “Just COME ON! I’ll buy you a beer!” I got a second wind and made it, but next time I’m waiting for the damn shuttle.
It was a legendary night and the best part of the whole night? WILLIE.FREAKIN.NELSON.MADE.EYE.CONTACT.AND.WINKED….AT.ME. No joke.
Thanks to everyone who put up with me before the concert as I annoyed you with Willie lyrics the entire day. And thanks, Mike, for being the ONLY person brave enough to go with me. The whole day just made my year.
(Willie in his bandana)
(Willie in his cowboy hat)
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
A fine beer may be judged with only one sip, but it's better to be thoroughly sure
Another submission for spiritedtimes.com that I thought I'd post here too:
While reviewing my arsenal of drinks for the “favorite cocktails” section of this page, I realized that nothing makes this Montanan happier than a frothy cold beer. Here in Montana we claim over a dozen of the finest microbreweries, well in my opinion, anywhere. Below is a list of my favorite brews:
Kettlehouse Brewing Company
Missoula, MT
http://www.kettlehouse.com/
The ultimate microbrew comes from Kettlehouse and is the Cold Smoke Scotch Ale. This may very well be my favorite thing to drink…period. While visiting Kettlehouse, give the Olde Bongwater Porter a try.
Madison River Brewing Company
Belgrade, MT
http://www.madisonriverbrewing.com/
The Madison River Brewing Company does an outstanding second place job of perfecting another Scotch Ale, the Copper John Scotch Ale. If dark beers aren’t your thing, try the Salmon Fly Honey Rye.
Bozeman Brewing Company
Bozeman, MT
http://bozemanbrewing.com/
The Bozone Plum St. Porter from the Bozeman Brewing Company is so substantial and rich we locals use it as a meal replacement.
Neptunes Brewery
Livingston, MT
www.neptunesbrewery.com
Who needs cake when you can try the seasonal Chocolate Cream Porter from Neptune’s Brewery? Neptune’s brewery is located in the beautiful and eclectic town of Livingston and their slogan reads “Don’t drink like a fish…drink like a God”, which I think is advice we can all agree with.
Big Sky Brewing Co
Missoula, MT
www.bigskybrew.com
Another smashing brew from Missoula is the Moose Drool Brown Ale. This is a favorite throughout all of Montana’s pubs and can be conveniently located bottled in 6 packs in many of our local grocery stores.
While reviewing my arsenal of drinks for the “favorite cocktails” section of this page, I realized that nothing makes this Montanan happier than a frothy cold beer. Here in Montana we claim over a dozen of the finest microbreweries, well in my opinion, anywhere. Below is a list of my favorite brews:
Kettlehouse Brewing Company
Missoula, MT
http://www.kettlehouse.com/
The ultimate microbrew comes from Kettlehouse and is the Cold Smoke Scotch Ale. This may very well be my favorite thing to drink…period. While visiting Kettlehouse, give the Olde Bongwater Porter a try.
Madison River Brewing Company
Belgrade, MT
http://www.madisonriverbrewing.com/
The Madison River Brewing Company does an outstanding second place job of perfecting another Scotch Ale, the Copper John Scotch Ale. If dark beers aren’t your thing, try the Salmon Fly Honey Rye.
Bozeman Brewing Company
Bozeman, MT
http://bozemanbrewing.com/
The Bozone Plum St. Porter from the Bozeman Brewing Company is so substantial and rich we locals use it as a meal replacement.
Neptunes Brewery
Livingston, MT
www.neptunesbrewery.com
Who needs cake when you can try the seasonal Chocolate Cream Porter from Neptune’s Brewery? Neptune’s brewery is located in the beautiful and eclectic town of Livingston and their slogan reads “Don’t drink like a fish…drink like a God”, which I think is advice we can all agree with.
Big Sky Brewing Co
Missoula, MT
www.bigskybrew.com
Another smashing brew from Missoula is the Moose Drool Brown Ale. This is a favorite throughout all of Montana’s pubs and can be conveniently located bottled in 6 packs in many of our local grocery stores.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Best Little Tiki Lounge On Earth
In the town of Great Falls, Montana, there’s a little hole in the wall called the Sip-N-Dip. There are so many things wrong with this place that everything is right and for the first 10 minutes you stare in disbelief. This entrancing nook can be found up the stairs in the O’Haire Motor Inn and is the tackiest tiki lounge this side of Tahiti. Windows have been built in to the side of the hotel pool and you can watch mermaids swim around as you drink your cocktails and marvel at the engineering feat of an upstairs pool. Legend has it Darryl Hannah once suited up in mermaid attire and swam in the Sip-N-Dip pool.
The best part of Sip-N-Dip is undoubtedly Piano Pat. Pat Spoonheim has been chained behind a round padded bar four nights a week for 44 years and oddly, got this gig after filling in for the previous piano man who skipped town and didn’t return until 20 years later. Pat’s rendition of “Sweet Caroline” makes you want to hurdle the barricade she created to keep the inebriated from falling on her and kiss her right on the lips. The night we visited Pat, there were at least 3 bachelorette parties in progress and Pat rolled her eyes as she sang “Going to the Chapel” to “all these young kids getting married”. You can purchase Pat’s top hits on CD and it was all I could do to keep from buying 50 of them and passing them out at Christmas.
Perhaps the most fascinating Sip-N-Dip anomaly is that in 2003, GQ Magazine named this night spot the number 1 bar on earth. Oh not just America, folks…ON. EARTH. And as you sit there watching mermaids and listening to Piano Pat under a straw ceiling, it all makes perfect sense.
Request the large blue drink served in what looks to be a giant fishbowl with 4 straws and share it with your friends. Or better yet just get one straw and drink it yourself. Don’t forget to tip Pat on your way out.
Check out other beverage stories (as well as my own submissions) at www.spiritedtimes.com
The best part of Sip-N-Dip is undoubtedly Piano Pat. Pat Spoonheim has been chained behind a round padded bar four nights a week for 44 years and oddly, got this gig after filling in for the previous piano man who skipped town and didn’t return until 20 years later. Pat’s rendition of “Sweet Caroline” makes you want to hurdle the barricade she created to keep the inebriated from falling on her and kiss her right on the lips. The night we visited Pat, there were at least 3 bachelorette parties in progress and Pat rolled her eyes as she sang “Going to the Chapel” to “all these young kids getting married”. You can purchase Pat’s top hits on CD and it was all I could do to keep from buying 50 of them and passing them out at Christmas.
Perhaps the most fascinating Sip-N-Dip anomaly is that in 2003, GQ Magazine named this night spot the number 1 bar on earth. Oh not just America, folks…ON. EARTH. And as you sit there watching mermaids and listening to Piano Pat under a straw ceiling, it all makes perfect sense.
Request the large blue drink served in what looks to be a giant fishbowl with 4 straws and share it with your friends. Or better yet just get one straw and drink it yourself. Don’t forget to tip Pat on your way out.
Check out other beverage stories (as well as my own submissions) at www.spiritedtimes.com
Friday, May 14, 2010
Early 30's...It's a Bitch
Last month I turned 32 and it made me think of this story I wrote after turning 30...
A few months ago I turned 30. In the stages of grief, I'm still in denial. Turning 30 gets you no sympathy from anyone over the age of 35 as they seem to have conveniently repressed the memory of terror, anger and extreme sadness about the whole ordeal. It's funny because in your 20's when something is wrong with you, everyone says "oh no…you're way too young to have that ailment! You should seek medical attention!" After 30 it's "Yah, welcome to your 30's" with no caring advice whatsoever.
On the other hand, I am an admitted hypochondriac. Have you seen those commercials for prescription medication that list off 10 to 20 possible side effects? I don't know why someone would take some of these. If possible side effects are dizziness, boils and brain hemorrhage resulting in death, what could possibly possess someone to take this medication? For example, there is a medication out there prescribed for toenail fungus. Possible side effects of this treatment are diarrhea, headache, indigestion, rash and possible liver damage. LIVER DAMAGE?!?! Now really, I think you can live with a little yellow toenail.
You really have to congratulate the drug companies for their marketing though. When I see one of these ads, I am instantly convinced I suffer from whatever disease, syndrome or affliction is being advertised. "Are you tired? Are you stressed? Do you get headaches? Are you turning green?" Ok, of course that last one I made up, but it doesn't matter what they say after the third symptom because I am already sure I have a disease. And some of these symptoms are so ambiguous that they could pertain to 85% of Americans. I read an article the other day that certain animals can actually smell a cancerous tumor. Now every time my dog sniffs me, I want to check myself into the hospital for a full body scan and complete blood work-up.
But, now that I have reached the age of 30, I am one step closer to wearing nothing but elastic top pants, yelling at the neighborhood kids to "get off my lawn" and doling out hard candies. And maybe turning 30 isn't so bad after all. I have now attained the official required age of a U.S. senator…a stepping stone to my goal of worldwide domination.
A few months ago I turned 30. In the stages of grief, I'm still in denial. Turning 30 gets you no sympathy from anyone over the age of 35 as they seem to have conveniently repressed the memory of terror, anger and extreme sadness about the whole ordeal. It's funny because in your 20's when something is wrong with you, everyone says "oh no…you're way too young to have that ailment! You should seek medical attention!" After 30 it's "Yah, welcome to your 30's" with no caring advice whatsoever.
On the other hand, I am an admitted hypochondriac. Have you seen those commercials for prescription medication that list off 10 to 20 possible side effects? I don't know why someone would take some of these. If possible side effects are dizziness, boils and brain hemorrhage resulting in death, what could possibly possess someone to take this medication? For example, there is a medication out there prescribed for toenail fungus. Possible side effects of this treatment are diarrhea, headache, indigestion, rash and possible liver damage. LIVER DAMAGE?!?! Now really, I think you can live with a little yellow toenail.
You really have to congratulate the drug companies for their marketing though. When I see one of these ads, I am instantly convinced I suffer from whatever disease, syndrome or affliction is being advertised. "Are you tired? Are you stressed? Do you get headaches? Are you turning green?" Ok, of course that last one I made up, but it doesn't matter what they say after the third symptom because I am already sure I have a disease. And some of these symptoms are so ambiguous that they could pertain to 85% of Americans. I read an article the other day that certain animals can actually smell a cancerous tumor. Now every time my dog sniffs me, I want to check myself into the hospital for a full body scan and complete blood work-up.
But, now that I have reached the age of 30, I am one step closer to wearing nothing but elastic top pants, yelling at the neighborhood kids to "get off my lawn" and doling out hard candies. And maybe turning 30 isn't so bad after all. I have now attained the official required age of a U.S. senator…a stepping stone to my goal of worldwide domination.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
When Not to Order a Martini
I'm contributing to a "drinking blog" and thought I'd post my first piece here too. Once the other blog is up and running, I'll put a link to it here.
Small town hillbilly bars are not the places to order martinis. We knew we were in trouble when the bartender asked us how to make a martini. We should have ordered a Budweiser right then and there, but we forged ahead. We hit the trifecta of regret when it came in a wine glass, looked like swamp water and smelled like gasoline. The olives didn’t even come on a swizzle stick. They were floating in there like piranhas and when I tried to fish them out everyone kept yelling “don’t stick your finger in there”! So the lesson to be learned here is if you’re in a bar where the walls are faux wood, the bartender has never made a martini and there are poker machines lining the wall, then you’re not going to get a quality cocktail. Assimilate to your surroundings and order a Bud Light…in a bottle.
Small town hillbilly bars are not the places to order martinis. We knew we were in trouble when the bartender asked us how to make a martini. We should have ordered a Budweiser right then and there, but we forged ahead. We hit the trifecta of regret when it came in a wine glass, looked like swamp water and smelled like gasoline. The olives didn’t even come on a swizzle stick. They were floating in there like piranhas and when I tried to fish them out everyone kept yelling “don’t stick your finger in there”! So the lesson to be learned here is if you’re in a bar where the walls are faux wood, the bartender has never made a martini and there are poker machines lining the wall, then you’re not going to get a quality cocktail. Assimilate to your surroundings and order a Bud Light…in a bottle.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
"And Spring Arose On The Garden Fair..."
Happy spring! I love this time of year because all my neighbors slither out from under their parkas and we catch up on what happened over the winter. Hot Neighbor also does yard work shirt-less so I’m especially looking forward to that. The snow finally melted, which only reminds me I no longer have an excuse not to get outside and jog. I staged a revolt against the cold and painted my toenails and slapped on my flip-flops. Feeling pretty good about life again. So good I even thought about getting motivated enough to do some spring cleaning, but all I got around to doing was installing fresh “wallflowers”, which are those smelly good things you plug in. So, at least the winter filth smells good.
Well the gym membership didn’t last so now I’m focusing on food. I’m officially 4 days into the Dr. Siegal Cookie Diet. But it’s expensive (tummy tuck is probably cheaper than these things) so instead of 6 cookies and dinner, I’m eating 3 cookies, 1 protein shake and dinner. Last night was fish and asparagus…God help me I need a deep fat fried anything. The cookies don’t taste entirely awful, but the texture isn’t my favorite. There are squishy balls of something in them that are a little difficult to maneuver past my gag reflex. Some sort of wheat I’m assuming. And the protein shake isn’t so bad either if you drink it immediately. Otherwise it froths up a bit and it’s a little like swallowing wet Styrofoam. And my mom warned me about diving into this protein business and guess what…she was right as usual. You need an Immodium chaser with this stuff. I didn’t realize that’s what she was referring to when she said “ease into it”.
Since I’m doing so well all day and evening, I decided it was okay to have a little afternoon snack each day. Chocolate covered pomegranates. A serving size is 28 and since I can’t do daily value percentage math in my head, I count out 28 little balls of happy and take them back to my desk. Every day I try really hard to make them last more than 90 milliseconds. But it’s actually a little embarrassing how fast I can eat these things and I’m always so surprised and disappointed when they’re gone. It says “source of antioxidants” on the package so I feel like I’m practically eating health food. Of course, red wine is also a phenomenal source of antioxidants so maybe THAT’S what my afternoon snack will be tomorrow!
Well the gym membership didn’t last so now I’m focusing on food. I’m officially 4 days into the Dr. Siegal Cookie Diet. But it’s expensive (tummy tuck is probably cheaper than these things) so instead of 6 cookies and dinner, I’m eating 3 cookies, 1 protein shake and dinner. Last night was fish and asparagus…God help me I need a deep fat fried anything. The cookies don’t taste entirely awful, but the texture isn’t my favorite. There are squishy balls of something in them that are a little difficult to maneuver past my gag reflex. Some sort of wheat I’m assuming. And the protein shake isn’t so bad either if you drink it immediately. Otherwise it froths up a bit and it’s a little like swallowing wet Styrofoam. And my mom warned me about diving into this protein business and guess what…she was right as usual. You need an Immodium chaser with this stuff. I didn’t realize that’s what she was referring to when she said “ease into it”.
Since I’m doing so well all day and evening, I decided it was okay to have a little afternoon snack each day. Chocolate covered pomegranates. A serving size is 28 and since I can’t do daily value percentage math in my head, I count out 28 little balls of happy and take them back to my desk. Every day I try really hard to make them last more than 90 milliseconds. But it’s actually a little embarrassing how fast I can eat these things and I’m always so surprised and disappointed when they’re gone. It says “source of antioxidants” on the package so I feel like I’m practically eating health food. Of course, red wine is also a phenomenal source of antioxidants so maybe THAT’S what my afternoon snack will be tomorrow!
Monday, March 1, 2010
A Zombie Theme...Because I Sort Of Feel Like One
After two ER visits and one surgery, I think I’m ready to attempt reentry into my former life. Unfortunately, I did not get to keep my gallbladder eternally hovering in a formaldehyde marinade. It had to be sent off to pathology so there goes my shelf of “things that used to work inside my body until I got old”.
Thanks to the makers of Dilaudid for making my stay in La-La-Land post-op a happy one. And anyone I may have phoned during that time…sorry about that.
Last weekend, just a few days into recovery, I took a jaunt to my Verizon store to trade in my old clunker for a shiny new Blackberry. The chick was scrolling through my photos to make sure they all transferred (thank God I erased all those porn pics) and she scrolled right to the picture I took of my eyeball last Christmas when I had the worst case of pink eye known to man and my eye was solid red, misshapen and bulging pretty fiercely. She looked at me like I was a freak. I just shrugged and said “zombie eye”. She let it go, but they probably made a note in the computer about me.
Guess what I’m getting for the third anniversary of my 29th birthday? Complete set of Zombie action figures. Glow-in-the-dark! Now I just need to upload “Zombieland” to my new Blackberry and it’ll be good to be me.
Thanks for everyone’s cards, flowers, dinners and help before and after my surgery. Having you all in my life is another reason it’s good to be me. :)
Thanks to the makers of Dilaudid for making my stay in La-La-Land post-op a happy one. And anyone I may have phoned during that time…sorry about that.
Last weekend, just a few days into recovery, I took a jaunt to my Verizon store to trade in my old clunker for a shiny new Blackberry. The chick was scrolling through my photos to make sure they all transferred (thank God I erased all those porn pics) and she scrolled right to the picture I took of my eyeball last Christmas when I had the worst case of pink eye known to man and my eye was solid red, misshapen and bulging pretty fiercely. She looked at me like I was a freak. I just shrugged and said “zombie eye”. She let it go, but they probably made a note in the computer about me.
Guess what I’m getting for the third anniversary of my 29th birthday? Complete set of Zombie action figures. Glow-in-the-dark! Now I just need to upload “Zombieland” to my new Blackberry and it’ll be good to be me.
Thanks for everyone’s cards, flowers, dinners and help before and after my surgery. Having you all in my life is another reason it’s good to be me. :)
Monday, January 25, 2010
Prayer: Yay or Nay?
Dictionary definition of to “pray”: Act of communicating with a deity especially as a petition or in adoration or contrition or thanksgiving.
Ambrose Bierce's “Devil’s Dictionary” definition of to “pray”: To ask that the laws of the universe be annulled in behalf of a single petitioner confessedly unworthy.
Up until last month, I subscribed to Ambrose Bierce’s definition of prayer. That was until I drove my husband’s ancient piece of crap Toyota after dark. I didn’t want my children chauffeured around in this death trap so I sent them up to visit my in-laws in my new Nissan Sentra. I’m not sure which I missed more…my children or my car. So I was left with this old car that used to be nice when I bought it in the mid-90’s. Didn’t think it was going to be too bad until I got in and noticed about 650 tree air fresheners scattered around, the seatbelt was broken and I had a minute amount of fuel and that was just before I turned it on. Upon ignition I noticed some pretty unsettling noises. I was warned about some strange noises when you turn the corner, but this seemed excessive. Accelerating seemed to cause the most trouble with a lot of clanking and shaking…decelerating lead to kind of a scraping and swaying and then braking caused a pretty severe grinding. It was daytime when I left on my adventure and the windshield seemed pretty dirty, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Until it was nighttime and I couldn’t see anything! To my horror, my super responsible husband had no wiper fluid in the car. Nothing. Luckily I left with a container of water to drink on the ride home and I had to use that to clean the windshield on the side of the road. Which, of course, froze almost immediately. After a few moments of maximum defrost I was on my way again. The chant “please GOD get me home” ran through my head on a continuous loop. It’s deer season and I just had a feeling I needed to stay in the left lane rather than moving over to the right lane where my turn is. Had I not done that, I would have hit a deer standing exactly in the middle of the right lane…with no seatbelt and grinding brakes. So, power of prayer…coincidence or is there something to this? Or maybe it’s just like my grandma used to say “always follow your hunches!”
Ambrose Bierce's “Devil’s Dictionary” definition of to “pray”: To ask that the laws of the universe be annulled in behalf of a single petitioner confessedly unworthy.
Up until last month, I subscribed to Ambrose Bierce’s definition of prayer. That was until I drove my husband’s ancient piece of crap Toyota after dark. I didn’t want my children chauffeured around in this death trap so I sent them up to visit my in-laws in my new Nissan Sentra. I’m not sure which I missed more…my children or my car. So I was left with this old car that used to be nice when I bought it in the mid-90’s. Didn’t think it was going to be too bad until I got in and noticed about 650 tree air fresheners scattered around, the seatbelt was broken and I had a minute amount of fuel and that was just before I turned it on. Upon ignition I noticed some pretty unsettling noises. I was warned about some strange noises when you turn the corner, but this seemed excessive. Accelerating seemed to cause the most trouble with a lot of clanking and shaking…decelerating lead to kind of a scraping and swaying and then braking caused a pretty severe grinding. It was daytime when I left on my adventure and the windshield seemed pretty dirty, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Until it was nighttime and I couldn’t see anything! To my horror, my super responsible husband had no wiper fluid in the car. Nothing. Luckily I left with a container of water to drink on the ride home and I had to use that to clean the windshield on the side of the road. Which, of course, froze almost immediately. After a few moments of maximum defrost I was on my way again. The chant “please GOD get me home” ran through my head on a continuous loop. It’s deer season and I just had a feeling I needed to stay in the left lane rather than moving over to the right lane where my turn is. Had I not done that, I would have hit a deer standing exactly in the middle of the right lane…with no seatbelt and grinding brakes. So, power of prayer…coincidence or is there something to this? Or maybe it’s just like my grandma used to say “always follow your hunches!”
Sunday, January 10, 2010
New Year's Ruminations
Here we are in the year 2010. Eleven years into the 21st century (yes, 11 - count on your fingers if you have to). While reflecting on the past year and composing my new year’s resolutions I’ll promptly abandon by mid-January, I got sidetracked thinking about what I expected 2010 to look like. I remember thinking I’d be in my 30’s and how old that seemed to a burgeoning youth. But I also remember thinking the world would look closer to the space exploration age of Star Trek.
It appears to me that I’m not entirely alone in my ruminations. For example, in 1968 the epic motion picture 2001: A Space Odyssey predicted artificial intelligence. Sure, we have Honda’s ASIMO whose abilities include facial recognition, environmental recognition and sound recognition among other things. Although none of which include the advanced capabilities The Jetson’s envisioned. Where’s my Rosie the Robot Maid? In 1989, Back to the Future II promised me flying cars. Okay, I can see the pitfalls of flying cars. If I break down while cruising down the highway, I pull over. If I break down while flying at an altitude of 1,000 feet, I will promptly plummet to immediate death. One of my brilliant offspring suggested emergency parachutes. Excellent idea, but I’m not sure I’d like to trust my life to a flimsy sheet of nylon. But give me something…a hover board perhaps?
If computers make the world go ‘round and Moore’s Law projects that CPU transistor counts double every 2 years (expecting to hold steady for another 2 decades), then according to my calculations, however insufficient, we should be looking forward to toilet cleaning robots any year now.
Alas, while I do so look forward to food replicators, holodecks and fully-functional androids (wink!), I feel I must focus on the present...for now. So I decided this year my new year’s resolution is to learn something new every day. Did you know the toothpick is the object most often choked on by Americans?
Here’s to a prosperous 2010.
Cheers!
It appears to me that I’m not entirely alone in my ruminations. For example, in 1968 the epic motion picture 2001: A Space Odyssey predicted artificial intelligence. Sure, we have Honda’s ASIMO whose abilities include facial recognition, environmental recognition and sound recognition among other things. Although none of which include the advanced capabilities The Jetson’s envisioned. Where’s my Rosie the Robot Maid? In 1989, Back to the Future II promised me flying cars. Okay, I can see the pitfalls of flying cars. If I break down while cruising down the highway, I pull over. If I break down while flying at an altitude of 1,000 feet, I will promptly plummet to immediate death. One of my brilliant offspring suggested emergency parachutes. Excellent idea, but I’m not sure I’d like to trust my life to a flimsy sheet of nylon. But give me something…a hover board perhaps?
If computers make the world go ‘round and Moore’s Law projects that CPU transistor counts double every 2 years (expecting to hold steady for another 2 decades), then according to my calculations, however insufficient, we should be looking forward to toilet cleaning robots any year now.
Alas, while I do so look forward to food replicators, holodecks and fully-functional androids (wink!), I feel I must focus on the present...for now. So I decided this year my new year’s resolution is to learn something new every day. Did you know the toothpick is the object most often choked on by Americans?
Here’s to a prosperous 2010.
Cheers!
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Broken Resolutions
As you can see by the above picture, by January 2nd, I have already broken my new year’s resolution to never drink again. You know how you have an alter-ego when you drink? Apparently, my alter-ego is a “Coyote Ugly” girl. My friend and I danced on this bar (which, by the way, was imported by Irish immigrants and brought to Montana on a wagon train in the 1800's or some such story I don't fully remember) and were promptly tossed out by “Chuck” who, on an unrelated note, had a stuffed badger I insisted on petting.I think I have all my bad behavior out of the way for 2010 so I’m looking forward to an uneventful 12 months hoping to get back in Chuck’s good graces. This was “The Sport” bar in Livingston, Montana...just don't drink anything that Chuck won't give you the name of until you're half-way through and already told him you really like it.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Alone...Is Not Better
My husband took my children to visit his folks while I stayed back to watch our neighbor’s house and make sure our kitten didn’t get eaten by the big cat or more importantly, claw the rest of my new furniture. For the first time in…well ever…I have the house to myself. At first, I couldn’t wait for everyone to get the hell out of here so I could have a couple relaxing days to myself watching bad DVDs in my undies eating chicken on the couch. But now, I can’t wait for them to get home and it’s only day two. Normally I have trouble hearing until I’m home alone in a dark house by myself and then every creak, thump and whistle is audible. I kept waking up thinking there were any number of things in my home with me: zombies, ghosts, monsters, rapists, burglars, etc. Add that to a kitten diving at my other two animals and my feet all night, I managed to wake up feeling like a dump truck drove over me a couple times. Zombies, ghosts, monsters…it’s all completely irrational. So I thought I’d take some time to review my other absurd phobias and perhaps you can shed some insight as to where they came from or how to rid myself of them. Before my family left, I asked them to help make a list of my phobias because I had a list of maybe three already. Both my husband and my daughter started spewing them at me faster than I could write them down. Well, that doesn’t bode well for me.
Ridiculous phobia number 1: I have this fear that if I die in uncomfortable clothes, I will be in uncomfortable clothes for eternity. Thanks every 80’s movie about heaven. So those heels that kill your toes and those jeans that ride up and that shirt you’re always adjusting and even worse that push up bra you can’t wait to dismantle could be what you float around the afterlife in…forever. Not that I want to eternally be in my pajamas, but maybe a comfy pair of yoga pants and a baggy sweatshirt? Too much to ask?
Ridiculous phobia number 2: I can’t look at, touch or go near that clump of hair that circles the shower drain. I realize that the majority of that hair is my own and even clean from shower water, but I still have to ignore it until someone else removes it or use tissue paper as if removing a spider. That thing could be alive for all I know.
Ridiculous phobia number 3: The sound of a plastic spoon scratching on a Styrofoam cup makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I can’t even watch people eat out of Styrofoam without cringing.
Ridiculous phobia number 4: I saw the movie Salem’s Lot when I was maybe 11 or 12. It’s a Stephen King story about vampires and in one scene a boy wakes up and sees a vampire hovering outside his window. When I got home I rearranged my whole bedroom so that my bed was not facing my window as well as every room I’ve had since then. Ignorance is bliss…whatever is hovering behind me that I can’t see I seem to be okay with.
Ridiculous phobia number 5: I don’t like things that fly. Namely, birds and moths. A seagull once ran at me and I bolted like I was running from a mugger only to hide behind my friend and use her as a human shield. Pretty sure she regretted our friendship at that point. When I was a kid, my step-grandpa once told me that moths fly in your mouth at night. Doesn’t take Freud to figure out the fear on that one then.
So here we are day one into the new year and the only thing I’ve realized is that I hate being alone and it’s probably safer not to leave me unattended anyways. :)
Thank you, my friend Katie, for letting me come over and not be alone for a few hours today. Smooch.
Ridiculous phobia number 1: I have this fear that if I die in uncomfortable clothes, I will be in uncomfortable clothes for eternity. Thanks every 80’s movie about heaven. So those heels that kill your toes and those jeans that ride up and that shirt you’re always adjusting and even worse that push up bra you can’t wait to dismantle could be what you float around the afterlife in…forever. Not that I want to eternally be in my pajamas, but maybe a comfy pair of yoga pants and a baggy sweatshirt? Too much to ask?
Ridiculous phobia number 2: I can’t look at, touch or go near that clump of hair that circles the shower drain. I realize that the majority of that hair is my own and even clean from shower water, but I still have to ignore it until someone else removes it or use tissue paper as if removing a spider. That thing could be alive for all I know.
Ridiculous phobia number 3: The sound of a plastic spoon scratching on a Styrofoam cup makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I can’t even watch people eat out of Styrofoam without cringing.
Ridiculous phobia number 4: I saw the movie Salem’s Lot when I was maybe 11 or 12. It’s a Stephen King story about vampires and in one scene a boy wakes up and sees a vampire hovering outside his window. When I got home I rearranged my whole bedroom so that my bed was not facing my window as well as every room I’ve had since then. Ignorance is bliss…whatever is hovering behind me that I can’t see I seem to be okay with.
Ridiculous phobia number 5: I don’t like things that fly. Namely, birds and moths. A seagull once ran at me and I bolted like I was running from a mugger only to hide behind my friend and use her as a human shield. Pretty sure she regretted our friendship at that point. When I was a kid, my step-grandpa once told me that moths fly in your mouth at night. Doesn’t take Freud to figure out the fear on that one then.
So here we are day one into the new year and the only thing I’ve realized is that I hate being alone and it’s probably safer not to leave me unattended anyways. :)
Thank you, my friend Katie, for letting me come over and not be alone for a few hours today. Smooch.
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