Thar she blows!

I know I should be a little freaked by the idea that Mount St. Helens is possibly getting ready to erupt again, but I'm not. I think it would be really freaking cool. (Disclaimer, of course it would not be cool if human life was lost or property damage was severe. I'm not cold-hearted, I'm just intrigued by volcanic events.) I vaguely remember some relatives coming to visit us from Washington in the early 80s and bringing us a jar of ash from the Big One. That was back in the Arizona days when I never dreamed I'd live up here with the earthquakes and the volcanoes. And whales! What if St. Helens goes and sets off a chain reaction and Rainier blows up too and then we have like a month of ash days and no one has to go to work. OK, well maybe that would be really messy and I bet all that ash would wreak havoc on the Roomba. I guess what I really want is to see a volcano erupt and then have a month's vacation.

The sorry saga of the Bonk Bed and other stories

Fiona's been sleeping in our old guest bed which is too big for her bedroom. It leaves her with very little floor space so she doesn't have much room to play in there. We've been meaning to get her a twin sized bed with a trundle or something for future cousin sleepovers, etc. We shopped around and found a great deal on a bunk bed (bonk bed according to Fiona) which converts to two twins. And yes, yes, I know that she's too little to sleep on the top bunk. We don't plan on having the ladder up yet. Anyhow, it was supposed to arrive yesterday and we've been building Fiona up with the excitement. We picked out space themed sheets, we talked about how her stuffed animals will sleep on the top bunk. Every day we did a countdown to bunk bed day. The fateful day arrived and no bunk bed. Andre called the furniture store and they had forgotten to schedule the delivery. After much talkng about how it was "unacceptable" that we were going to have to wait another week, they credited us back our delivery fee. We still have to wait another week though. So are you bored yet? Yeah, that was a pretty boring story. That's what happens when you live in Suburbia, missed deliveries of bunk beds get you all riled up.

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We had an event at the store this weekend aimed at women over the age of 50. I've been taking all the reservations and explaining to people how to get into the store before it opens. Our reservations system is a little backward. Basically, if I'm talking to someone else, all other incoming calls go to voice mail which tells them to leave a message with their name, number and the event they're interested in and then I call them back. Now you whippersnapper 50 year olds have this whole voice mail thing figured out. The 60 year olds seem to have done a pretty good job too. The older crowd however kept leaving me message after message like this, "Hello this is Mrs. Elmer Huffenpuff and I'd like to make a reservation for the event. My phone number is...Hello? HELLO? HELLO?! I don't think there's anyone there. Oh for pete's sake." Click. Two minutes later, "Hello this is Mrs. Huffenpuff and I'd like tickets for the event. My phone number is...Hello? HELLO?" Click. Sigh.

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My Roomba FINALLY arrived! I'm in lazy person's heaven. I'm goofing off on the computer and it's cleaning my kitchen. Thank you IRobot. I love you. Fiona, however, is a little scared of it. She likes watching it run but is convinced that it will eat our toes if we walk around when it's cleaning. She yells at it, "Hey Robot!" from the couch because she's pretty sure it can't climb up and eat her there. When it mutinies and tries to destroy us all I guess she'll be able to say, "I told you so."

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I've had a nagging craving for a HoHo lately. I don't know why, I get them every once in a while, must be the influence of the white trash town I grew up in. They are delicious though, you must admit. Andre ran to the convenience store to get one for me and an apple pie for himself and proudly returned with a DING DONG! Sorry Hostess, but your Ding Dongs are no HoHos.

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The "original" trilogy is on DVD. Except it's not the original trilogy, it's Lucas' reworked version from the 90s, complete with added scenes and special effects. And it's even revised since that re-release. Thanks George, it's too bad I hate those versions and will hate them even more since you've tinkered with them again. George says: "It's like this is the movie I wanted it to be, and I'm sorry you saw half a completed film and fell in love with it. But I want it to be the way I want it to be." Well that's all well and good, but I don't really know how good your judgement is anymore. I mean really, mitochlorians? Jar Jar? A whiny teenage Darth Vader? Andre is talking about getting the REAL original trilogy on laser disk and picking up an old player on ebay or something. Because we're geeks.

The preschooler on the bus

So you know what's worse than puking a little on the bus? Or screaming a lot on the bus? I think you can probably guess. Yes, it's a good thing the seats are made of vinyl because Fiona peed on the bus. We've been braving the commute in big girl underpants and halfway home, with no stops coming up, in the middle of suck ass slow traffic, I heard the frightening words, "Mommy, I have to go potty!" Luckily I had a pull-up in my bag and had time to at least get it under her before the peeing, but we still had a major wet spot all over the seat. I tried to clean it up with the only other thing I had handy, Fiona's sweatshirt. I'm sure the woman behind me was thinking, "SICK! She's not even going to get out some bleach spray and disenfect that or anything!" Now, if karma really works, one of those stupid office pee-hands-on-the-towel-dispenser people will sit there tomorrow. Hah! Serves you right!

Dear office germaphobe:

Maybe you haven't noticed this, but most of us in the office like to wash our hands and then dry them with a paper towel. You seem to like to get your towels first and then wash your hands. That seems like a great strategy for you. Maybe, just maybe, however you could stop to think for a minute. You are touching the towel dispenser with your filthy pee hands instead of shiny clean just washed hands. So guess who gets to share all your germs? That's right, me. The one who does things in the right order. I really have no desire to share your pee germs. So could you be a little considerate in the future and at least use your elbow or something on the towel dispenser if you're going to continue to live in backwards land?

Thank you.

Goodbye old house

As my sister discussed yesterday, my parents are selling the house we grew up in. I'm very happy that it will finally have a family in it again as it's been empty for quite a while, but I'm upset that I won't be able to go back. That Fiona won't ever have memories of the house. That any future children we have won't ever even be inside. That the Christmas we planned this year won't happen. However, as the philosopher Dr. Andy Brown of Everwood once said, "We may give up the physical space, but we'll always have our memories." Oh Andy Brown, you are so eloquent and so wise.

I don't want to ever forget the time that my parents caught on to the fact that Tamara and I weren't actually eating our vegetables, but stuffing them in the crack between the kitchen countertop and the cabinet. Or the time I rode all the way around the subdivision on my bike with no hands and then fell down right in front of my house (I guess the scars will remind me on this one). Having my prom dates pick me up at the house and getting our photos taken in front of the old parson's table. Sleeping on my waterbed and being terrified that lightning from a summer storm was somehow going to come inside the windows and electrocute me as I slept. Playing "killer sting ray" on stilts in the vacant lot next door with my friend and all of our stuffed animals. All of our big family Christmases with the whole family over for dinner. The painstaking hours in front of the bathroom mirror trying to perfect my mall bangs. Watching bad movies over and over again with my sister all summer long and then telling my mother we were really practicing the piano all that time. Sleeping with the hall light on for weeks after reading Christine and The Shining back to back. Sitting in front of the television with my mom and working on our cross-stitch projects. Our whole herd of cats staring in at us jealously from the patio.

Anyhow, I'm going to miss you old house. I hope the new family treats you well.

Little things that make me happy

1. Fiona in her orange stripey jammies. And when she sings Twinkle Twinkle Little Star like this: "Up a bubba world so high."

2. Finishing the latest in my favorite trashy detective series and being disappointed that I'll have to wait for another one to come out and then checking the author's website to find out I'm actually a book behind and there's a new one already out there waiting for me. Hooray!

3. A hot cup of Yunnan tea with some sugar and milk.

4. Waking up to a clean house and knowing I don't have to spend the rest of my weekend fretting about it and procrastinating and then going to work on Monday with a messy house.

5. The Amazing Race and Television without Pity's recaps of Amazing Race.

6. When my psychotic cat licks his tail so much that half the hair lays the wrong way and he looks like he went to a vindictive pet groomer.

7. Freaks and Geeks and Firefly on DVD.

8. When Andre humors me and cooks things even though he thinks they'll be gross, like Veeg's pumpkin soup, and then it turns out to be tasty and he's happy he made it. He's cute.

9. Going to the fair and eating ten bazillion calories of trashy fried foods and risking death on rides managed by apathetic carnies.

10. The fact that the battleground state of Ohio will most likely go to Kerry. (Hah! You didn't think I'd leave something like this out, did you?)

Pacific Northwest cool...

You know what's neat about living here? I mean besides the fact that every single person over the age of 12 is a complete coffee snob and snorts derisively at the mere thought of Folgers Crystals, I love that. And besides the fact that I live in a vast liberal playground where my Kerry bumpersticker will never get keyed. And even besides the fact that we have a two week period every year when the restaurants fly banners proclaiming the start to wild salmon season, yum. The really cool thing about living here is this: Whale warnings. Where else can you go to the movies and have one of the pre-show slides be a huge graphic of an orca with big bold red letters proclaiming "Whale danger! 150 feet around a whale is a no boat zone!" To an Arizona girl, that is awesome! I mean, whales! Cool.

Things that disturb me

1. This disgusting new cereal. 75% less sugar they say! Sweetened by Splenda. Maybe you can make it glow in the dark too! I bet the kids would love that. Who cares about the artificial colors and sweeteners, as long as they're eating, right? Maybe I'll get this cereal for Fiona and serve it with some Diet Coke. That doesn't have any sugar either!

2. The Rainbow Fish. Come on, you say, that's a sweet kid's book. What could possibly be wrong with that? Reading this story to Fiona is like reading a Good Conformists handbook. The only way the Rainbow Fish can be happy and accepted by the other fish is to give away all his sparkly scales, the one thing that makes him special. Don't be unique! Don't make the other fish jealous! You'll be shunned and everyone will talk about you behind your back. If you can just be exactly like everyone else you'll be happy and have lots of friends.

3. Alien vs. Predator. Yes, don't laugh at me, I saw this in the theaters. Why make a movie for fanboys who are sure to have all of the mythology and backstory of the previous movies memorized and then just change it at will? I mean really, do you think we would forget the gestational period of an alien once it enters a host body? Why alienate the only audience you're going to get? (Alienate! Hah!)

4. Spiders.

5. Bush's post-convention bounce. Has the world gone mad? (I know Kelley, I know Dad, you just shush.)

6. My complete inability to get off my lazy butt and weed the yard. What is wrong with me? I have procrastinated and procrastinated and procrastinated. Do you think that maybe it will snow in the next month or so and that will just kill the weeds? Don't weeds make good mulch or something? Shouldn't Andre have to do all the weeding since I do the laundry?

7. People who can't loosen up, take a few risks, and enjoy raw cookie dough. Do they not know how delicious it is? Raw eggs or no raw eggs, cookie dough is the perfect food.

8. Geoduck clams.

9. Britney and Kevin. Please, please Britney. Get a prenup.

10. Prince William [images deleted because I kept getting hits from people looking for his picture and I felt mean bashing him to the people who wanted to see if he was still cute - he's not]. What happened to my beautiful fake boyfriend? He used to be so scrumptious. I told Andre on our honeymoon in London that there was always the possibility that I'd have to leave him in order to marry Wills (if we met by accident in the streets of London and then he just happened to invite me back to the palace and the queen really liked me and we fell deeply in love and the age difference thing was OK because true love conquers all). Don't worry anymore, Andre, I'm over him.

Sweet dreams...

Yesterday when Fiona woke up in the morning, she opened her eyes, looked down at her jammies and said, "But where is my robot costume?" Ahh, sweet Halloween dreams. (Or too much Styx?)

Speaking of dreams, I had a dream that my dad had a blog. I even saw the address: kittykatty.blogspot.com. Unless my dad is posing as an 18 year old girl named Katrina I guess the dream was wrong. And kittykatty? That's a little weird. Sorry dad.