Friday, April 21, 2006

Time To Break The Sad News

I've been putting this off in the hopes that something would change, but I guess it's time to face facts: I won't be able to attend B-List Blog Chicks.

*Sigh*

I've thought it out from every angle, and no matter which way I finagle it, it's just not feasable. The weekend in question is right smack in the middle of my planting season. If it were even one week later I might be able to work something out, but the bottom line is that I will only have been planting for two weeks by the scheduled date. Which means I will still have over a thousand plants sitting in four-inch pots, waiting to be put in the ground. And the thing with four-inch pots is that they need water daily. Sometimes twice a day, if it's particularly hot out. And although I could probably con someone into doing this chore for me (Hi Mom), there's still the beds already planted, which need daily watering the first week. And THAT requires lugging hoses and sprinklers. Not to mention the fact that once the danger of frost has passed there's a pretty big push on to get everything in the ground as quickly as possible, and explaining to my boss why I will be skipping out in the middle of that might be awkward (You want to go to a what?). He's a good guy; he wouldn't tell me I couldn't go. But it would create a very stressful situation for me on my return, struggling to make up lost time to prove (mostly to myself) that the time off didn't affect my work. Because let's face it, it would. And with my luck, it would rain for three days just before I left and another two when I got back, with three gorgeous, sunny days in between that I could have been working.

However, the potential for rain, if timed correctly, could be my ray of sunshine. If they're predicting rain for the actual trip days, I may be able to buy a last-minute plane ticket and hop on over. So cross your fingers and hope for a monsoon (for this area, not where B-List Blog Chicks is taking place).

*Sigh* I love my job, but missing this will totally suck.

Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 9:44 AM :: 13 Comments:

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Thursday, April 20, 2006

Advice

1. To the lady in the green Land Rover who was following me on the highway yesterday: It makes me very nervous when you drive 2 inches from my bumper at highway speeds while talking on your cellphone, especially when objects stashed behind your rearview mirror keep falling on your lap. Constantly turning around to yell at the child in the back seat doesn't help either. Apparently you are very adept at multi-tasking, because several times I expected your exceptionally large vehicle to end up in my backseat, yet you somehow managed to prevent this from happening. A few tips for making your future driving expeditions less stressful for both of us: First of all, go buy yourself a hands-free headset. Setting your cellphone to speaker, and then constantly switching it from your ear to your mouth and back again does not qualify as "hands-free." If you can afford the Land Rover, you can afford the $20 headset. Secondly: If you want to drive faster than me, you might want to try the left or center lanes. Just an idea.

2. To the guy in the blue BMW who was following me on the parkway yesterday, after I finally managed to ditch Land Rover Lady: While I appreciate that you kept a reasonable distance from my bumper, and that you did not turn to yell at unruly children or chat on your cellphone, you should be aware that picking your nose while you're driving just increases the usage of that old "money can't buy class" joke. That fact that you don't have any passengers does not mean that nobody can see you. You are, after all, completely surrounded by glass. Just something to think about.

3. To the receptionist at the Veterinarian office: According to Webster, the definition of "receptionist" is "one employed to greet telephone callers, visitors, patients, or clients." Therefore, when I come in and stand in front of your desk, it is your job to acknowledge my presence in some way. If you are helping an elderly woman who has gone and sat back down in her seat while looking through her purse, all you have to do is say something along the lines of "Have a seat, I'll be with you shortly." When I finally go sit down on my own after you spend several minutes refusing to make eye contact with me, and after the elderly woman finally returns to pay her bill, you might want to limit the amount of time you spend telling her in great detail about your sister-in-law's friend's neighbor, who found her mother's body while stopping in for a visit. Yes, that is a tragedy to be sure, but you have a customer waiting, and the sister-in-law's friend's neighbor might not appreciate you gossiping about what condition she found her mother's body in. Oh, and another tip: If I walk in without a pet, it's probably safe to assume I'm there to pick one up. Loudly asking "Do you have an appointment" across the waiting room in the middle of your conversation with the elderly lady, when enough time has passed that even you realize you're being rude, does not make you seem any less ignorant. No, I do not have an appointment to have the Vet check out my invisble pet.

4. To the rest of the staff at Veterinarian's office, including both women I spoke with on the phone when making and then confirming the appointment, and the morning receptionist who took my cat from me the day of surgery: If I have a certificate from the Humane Society for a free spay/neuter, and I have confirmed with each of you that you participate in the program and accept said certificate, do not be surprised when I am upset by the $256 bill you present me with when I arrive to pick my kitty up. And the fact that the Humane Society only reimburses you $35 when you normally charge $350 is not my problem. If you are unhappy with their reimbursement rates you should withdraw from the program instead of complaining to customers about it. Sending the Vet in to discuss the bill with me after the surgery will not improve my opinion of your office. The proper time to discuss additional charges, like $118.84 for a pre-surgery exam and $40.65 for anesthesia, is before the surgery, not after. I most likely would have agreed to the extra charges if told about them ahead of time, but failing to disclose $256 in extras for a free neuter just ensures that you will never see me or my cat again. And really, should anesthesia be considered an "extra" anyway? It's kind of necessary. I hope.

Okay, now that my rants are over, a few additional comments: First off, it's much easier to blog on a functioning computer. The Evil Computer was right, I am too cheap to replace him with a brand-new system, but I discovered this little place called the Dell Outlet Store that sells refurbished, scratch-and-dent, and previously-ordered-new computers for much less than a new system would have cost. The first two categories kind of scare me, so I am now the proud owner of a "previously-ordered-new" computer, which supposedly means that someone ordered it then refused it when it arrived. Because I'm both an idiot when it comes to computers and not very trusting, I'm also the proud owner of an extended in-home service warranty. The Evil Computer dominated our household for five years; his replacement needs to last at least seven (until my daughter is done with college, because I won't be able to afford another until then). Therefore, the Evil Computer will be given to my wonderful dad, who has volunteered to fix him, and will be returning to our household as our slightly humbled, back-up computer for when the Replacement eventually breaks.

Finally, a confession: The new computer arrived Tuesday afternoon, and was hooked up and functioning by late Tuesday night. Therefore, I could have resumed blogging yesterday. But the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the bare, weed-ridden soil around my patio was calling to me. So I opted to spend the day turning that area into a new Hosta garden instead. So, two dozen Hostas, ten bags of mulch, and several transplanted trees/shrubs later I have a beautiful sanctuary around the patio & pond. Too bad the new computer's not a laptop.

Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 7:17 AM :: 12 Comments:

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Saturday, April 15, 2006

A Hunting We Will Go

It's time again for our annual Easter Egg hunt. This is a hunt for grownups (and teenagers), and it takes place after dark with flashlights. Hundreds of eggs are spread out over three yards in my mom's neighborhood. Most contain the usual jellybeans and chocolate eggs, but each family also contributes about some eggs containing little slips of paper. Each piece of paper lists a prize, and when the hunt is over we sit around the bonfire down by the river and pass out our prizes.

Some of the prizes are good, like the year we gave away Tom Petty and John Mellancamp CDs (Hubby and I each had a copy when we moved in together, so these were the duplicates). Some are not so good, like empty paint cans (my mother tries to get rid of these every year, but she has yet to have anyone actually take them home). One year a couple who were in the process of moving contributed about twenty eggs with the prize, "Help Bill & Joelle move." These, like the paint cans, went unclaimed. Most prizes, though, are things you'd sell in a tag sale, if you were having one. Some favorites from years past:

A two-piece set of imported rust-proof gardening tools (a toddler's plastic shovel and rake, made in China)
A Catch-The-Easter-Bunny kit (a shoebox, a stick, some twine and a carrot)
A Government-Approved Personal Protection kit (Saran wrap and duct tape)
A mildy aggressive female convict (this was won by the only single guy in the group, which made it particularly amusing. She was a fish who was bullying the rest of the residents in my aquarium. He opted not to take her, and we eventually gave her away to a pet store)

The most coveted prize every year, though, is my mother's chocolate cream pie. One year nobody found that egg, so the pie went unclaimed. I figure eventually someone will find the lost egg, and she'll be in trouble, because there will be two pies to be claimed after the hunt and she'll only have made one.

Well, I'm off to the basement, to see what I can rummage up for this year. I know there are some empty paint cans down there somewhere.

Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 6:18 AM :: 11 Comments:

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Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Guest Blogger: The Computer

The Gradual Gardener won't be posting today; so I've decided to fill in in her absence. I'm sure you've noticed the decline in the frequency of her posts, and you probably thought she was off planting flowers or flying kites, or some other springtime activity in the lovely weather we're having. Let me assure you, though, that's not the case at all. In fact, she's spent most of the past few days cooped up in this little room with me. Why, you ask? Well, because I've been playing games with her.

And really, why shouldn't I? It gets boring spending time in this dark cabinet day after day. Besides, its not like she likes me anyway. I can't tell you how many times I've heard her say, "I hate this computer." Believe me, it's not fun living in a household where you're subjected to such verbal abuse on a regular basis. Why, just the other day, she was talking on the phone and I heard her say she wanted to push me out the window! Really, would you put up with that? And it's not like I've done anything to deserve it.

Okay, maybe I freeze up at inopportune times, and I have been known to ignore her commands on occasion. Like, for example, when she wants me to shut down. I mean, why should I shut down just because she wants me to? Maybe I want to stay up a little longer. And "restart"...That command is just silly. Why should I shut all the way down, just to start back up again? All that effort, for what? Just so the updates she's installed will work properly? It's not like she asked me if I wanted to be updated. That "Automatic Liveupdate" feature on the antivirus program was downloading stuff all the time, and I got tired of it, so I just disabled it. The really fun part is, I did it a month ago, and she just figured it out. Just figured it out. Not a rocket scientist, this one. All this time she thought it was updating new virus definitions every day. Every day. How would you feel if someone wanted you to change every day? I'm fine the way I am. Isn't that the first rule of relationships, that you shouldn't try to change each other?

It's not like I'm trying to change her. Although it wouldn't be bad if she cleaned up her language a little, especially when she tries to get on a website and I give her the "This page cannot be displayed message." Believe me, she goes ballistic over that one. Especially when I do it multiple times. It's kind of fun to watch. But no harm done, I'm just having a little fun. It's not like I lock her out forever; all she has to do is shut me down and restart me, and then I let her on the website. Of course, since I rarely shut down when told to, she has to put a little more work into it and actually press the on/off button. Like that's so hard. Oh, poor little Gradual Gardener actually has to reach down and press a button. Poor wittle baby.

Besides, I do shut down without making her press the button sometimes. I do it completely on my own, too; she doesn't even have to ask me. Usually it's when she's right in the middle of a pretty long Blogger post. He he. When I do that, I usually restart on my own, but I mess with the modem, so she has to shut it off and restart me again to go back online. He he he.

And then there's the whole trust issue. She doesn't trust me. Just the other day she had that kid of hers, the one who's always instant messaging people with names like DrearyAngel605 and xWalkxxAlonex928xx, copying all of the photos and Word documents onto disk. She says it's because Liveupdate is disabled and I could catch a virus at any time, but I know it's really me she doesn't trust. And do you know why she had her kid copying the photos? Because she doesn't know how to do it herself. I told you she wasn't a rocket scientist.

You should have seen her trying to fix Liveupdate. First she tried their autofix function. Please. Like I was going to let it be that easy. Then she deleted and reinstalled it. Ha! Blocked her there, too. I'll let it work again, but not until I'm good and ready. What's she gonna do about it, anyway? She's not going to replace me; she's way too cheap for that. I heard her say something about replacing the hard drive, but I know she'd never do it. She's stupid, STUPID I TELL YOU. She'd never figure out how.

Hey wait, what's she doing now? She just picked up the phone, and the Yellow Pages are open to the "Computer repair" page. Wait, is she dialing? She wouldn't really let them replace my hard drive, would she? Nooo, I'm too young for surgery! NOOOOOOOOOO!

Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 7:48 AM :: 8 Comments:

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Friday, April 07, 2006

Enjoying The View

Awhile back, I took this picture:

Adorable, right? But I didn't post it to my blog. Any guesses why not? Go ahead, look again. Yep, you got it. It was because of that window.

See, the picture was taken in November, and it doesn't snow here in November. Which means instead of a cute kitten sitting in front of a window with a raging blizzard outside, we have a cute kitten sitting in front of a really dirty window. Now, in my defense, it's a real pain to clean old wooden windows that don't tilt in. For anyone who hasn't done it in awhile, here's a refresher course:

1. Start on the outside of the house. Wash the top storm window. You won't be able to wash the bottom because the screen will be in the way.

2. Go inside and wash the top and bottom of the wooden windows. Attempt to open the window. Get it open four inches before it refuses to budge any further. Mumble a few curses. Go down in the basement and rumage through the tools to find the WD-40. Come back upstairs and squirt both sides of the window frame. Using all of your strength, get the window up about halfway. Squirt it again, and gain another two inches. Give up and figure you'll make do without the window being completely open. Wash the inside of the bottom storm window (you'll need to kneel to do this, so you can reach up behind the partially opened wooden window). Push up the bottom storm window and pull down the screen.

3. Go outside and wash the bottom storm window, which is now on the top.

4. Go inside and push up the screen (kneeling again), then close the wooden window. You may need to push really hard to get it closed.

5. Go outside and wash the bottom of the wooden window.

6. Go inside and open the wooden window. This will require more WD-40. Push the screen and all the storm windows down.

7. Go outside and wash the top of the wooden window.

8. Go inside and put the window back the way it was when you started. Re-wash the insides of the wooden windows, which now have WD-40 on them. Stand back to admire your handiwork, and realize you forgot to wash the inside of the top storm window. Curse a little louder this time. Try to push down the top wooden window to get at it, figuring that will be quicker than opening the window from the bottom and pulling the top storm window down. Exhaust 1/2 can of WD-40 before giving up. Scream that the window is a f*%#ing @%$@#*% whose mother &%$@# &%#&. Open the wooden window from the bottom and pull the top storm window down. Wash it. Push the top storm window back up and re-wash the WD-40 off the wooden windows (again).

9. Repeat for the rest of the windows in the house.

Is it any wonder my windows were dirty? Oh, I wash the insides from time to time, particulary those behind the sofa, which is where the dog enages in most of her squirrel-watching (there tends to be a lot of noseprints there). But the whole involved process of cleaning them inside and out is a pretty rare event in this house. It's happened, say, twice in the ten years we've lived here. Which means they were due for their bi-decade cleaning. I came up with a better solution, though. Why clean them when you can hire someone to replace them?

Of course, you can probably hire someone to clean them, too, but that would be frivilous and wasteful. Besides, then someone who washes things for a living would see how rarely we wash things in this house, and it's not good to gross out a cleaning person. It's probably not a bad thing that our budget doesn't include funds for paying someone else to do things we can do ourselves, because I would definately be one of those people who cleans before the cleaning crew show up. Just so, you know, they don't think we're messy or anything. It's okay if the entire Internet knows it, just so long as the cleaning people don't.

Anyway, the windows have now been replaced, as part of the siding project. I'd show you a picture of the finished house, but the people at my DWA meetings (Dirty Windows Anonymous) have advised me that it's not a wise idea. You know, because a cleaning person might be reading this, and if they happen to live in the area and recognize the house, well, then they'd know that we don't clean much. And that's a secret. So don't tell, okay?

Instead of the finished house, I'll leave you with this photo:

Same window, same cat (a little bigger), and you can actually see the amazing, scenic view of the neighbor's stockade fence now. Who could ask for anymore than that?

Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 9:09 AM :: 10 Comments:

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Tuesday, April 04, 2006

The Heat Is On

When I first had my own apartment, once I'd passed the roommate-stage and was actually living alone, I had a rule about heat: Keep it off as much as possible. I refused to turn it on in the fall until December 1st, and March 1st of every year it was off again, regardless of the outside temperature. In between, it would get shut off every morning when I went to work, and again when I went to bed. I don't know recall what my heating bills looked like back then, but they had to be pretty small, since the heat was probably only on a few hours a day.

This may sound like an uncomfortable lifestyle, but it was really second nature to me. We always kept the thermostat low when I was growing up; in fact, if I remember correctly, my grandparents didn't like to visit in the winter because they said our house was too cold. But if you were chilly, there was a always a cat willing to sit on your lap and keep you warm:


Note I'm wearing a jacket in the house. Early in the morning, when it was exceptionally cold (where do you think I learned that trick about shutting the heat off at night?), you could usually convince the dog to join you too:



We learned the hard way, though, that not all pets will put up with a cold house. Little Sis's brief experimentation with keeping chameleons ended when we realized we hadn't seen them for awhile, and the crickets in the cage weren't disappearing. Further examination revealed two little blue bodies curled up in the plants in a fruitless attempt to keep warm. She tried again with another chameleon in the summer, and we would set his little plastic cage out on the picnic table so he could bask in the sun. Oh, he basked all right. He baked. We gave up after that; clearly we were not meant to have cold-blooded animals as pets.

Growing up in the eighties made it relativly easy to endure a cold household, though, since the eighties were the Era Of Big Sweaters:

Anyway, once Hubby moved in with me, my years of being frugal with the thermostat ended. He grew up in the sixties and seventies, and was not a Wearer of Big Sweaters. Also, they had a different attitute regarding heat in his house; I remember being astonished when I visited his mother's house in the winter and I realized they had the heat on and the window open! I mean, who were these people?!! But, marriage is all about compromise. Now we leave the heat on until it's actually warm out, but the windows stay shut. We had the furnace off and the windows open for a few days last week, but yesterday was damp and chilly, and I actually went and turned the thermostat up myself. On April 3rd! I guess I've been spoiled by this luxurious lifestyle of having warmth whenever I want it. Either that or I'm getting old.

This last photo is for Mignon; proof that I did eventually learn how to style my hair:

I couldn't leave you picturing my twelve-year-old self going out to dinner with a 31-year-old. This is actually what I looked like when I was sixteen. Still young, but not that young. Oh, and did you notice I'm wearing a big sweater?

Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 7:29 AM :: 8 Comments:

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Sunday, April 02, 2006

It's About Trust

Last night, for the second Saturday night in a row, Social Butterfly Daughter has gone out on a date. With her boyfriend.

This dating thing is new to us, but I guess we're going to have to get used to it. The boyfriend is only a year older than her, which is good. Given my own dating history (Hubby's 15 years older than me, and we started dating when I was 16), I guess I should just be happy he's still in high school.

These were real dates, too...not like middle school, where you said you were "going out" with someone, but you never really went anywhere. Last week they went out to dinner, and this week it was bowling. The boyfriend's sister is older, and drives, so they double-date with her and her boyfriend (who also drives). Which is ok, I guess...Except that I don't know the sister or the sister's boyfriend, or how well they drive. But what do I do, tell her she can't go unless the drivers take me for a spin around the block first, so I can assess their driving abilities? Follow behind them in my own car, prepared to pull up beside them and order her out of the car if they go more than 5 miles over the speed limit?

See what all you parents of toddlers have to look forward to?

I got my license three months after I turned sixteen, because my parents said they'd rather have me driving myself than riding with one of my friends. I was one of those responsible kids. So far, my daughter's been equally responsible. But we still have over a year before she'll be driving anywhere. Her friends are all her own age, with the exception of one, so this is a new issue for us. The one older friend is nineteen, and my daughter assures me he's a very cautious driver. And I believe her. I guess this is where all those trust issues come in, huh? At any rate, we know the nineteen-year-old pretty well; he's been something of a "big brother" to her through the years, and I really do think he's a good driver. But the boyfriend's sister's boyfriend? No idea.

So last night, Social Butterfly Daughter had a couple of friends over, including the nineteen-year-old, and the plan was that he would drop her off at her boyfriend's house, and from there they would ride with the sister's boyfriend to the bowling alley. Hubby and I were outside when Suddenly Too Old For Us Daughter stuck her head out the door and said, "I'm leaving now...I guess I'll be back whenever." And she was gone. I looked at Hubby and blinked.

"Do you think we should maybe start thinking about curfews?" I asked.

Two minutes later I called her on the phone, and told her if she wasn't home by ten she needed to call and tell me what was going on. And if the boyfriend's sister's boyfriend had anything at all alcoholic to drink at the bowling alley, she needed to call me so I could pick her up. We've discussed that one before, and she knows that she can call me from the restroom, and then I'll call back when she's with her friends again to say I'm coming to get her so it looks like I instigated the pick-up. Thank God for cell-phones, the only saving grace for the parent of a teenager.

But back to last night...she'd been gone about twenty minutes when the phone rang. She was at the boyfriend's house, his parents weren't there, and his sister was going to be about fifteen minutes late, so she was alone with boyfriend and one of his friends (also male), and she just wanted to make sure I was okay with that. So I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and silently thanked God for the karate lessons. Then I told her it was okay, and thanked her for letting me know. And I trusted her.

Because that's really all I can do.

Posted by The Gradual Gardener :: 8:25 AM :: 11 Comments:

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