Archive for January, 2006

January 29th, 2006

» Oh Steve-o

Another reason I adore the Croc Hunter: he says things like “he lines it up and deploys his sticky missile” and “they can’t resist these fat little cockies” and he honestly completely doesn’t mean it that way.

January 27th, 2006

» still some kinks to work out

Thought process, upon seeing the second box elder bug in two days
(box elder bugs being equivalently scary to spiders,
generally moving less slow but being the stuff of recurring nightmares):

Ohmigod it’s another one.

This won’t do.

This won’t do at all. I need to find out where they’re getting in.

I wish I knew someone who could tell. I wish I knew a guy. An exterminator-guy, who would come in and check my whole place over. Make sure the windows are closed right. I would make him dinner. He’d be hot. And he’d fix this.

Okay. Okay. It’s on the blinds, can’t squash it. The vacuum.

Still packed. Is the suction strong enough? What if the vacuum doesn’t work and it attacks? Do I have time to find it and unpack it? There is a hose on it, right?

Okay. I’ll get the vacuum.

I wish I had Raid. I wonder if there’s a more environmentally-friendly way to kill them. Quicker. Painless. There must be a natural bug-killer of some kind. I need to look into that.

I’m such a pansy. It’s just a little bug. It’s more scared of me blah blah. I’ll get a paper towel. Enough of this vacuum nonsense. I’ll just squish it. It won’t be the end of the world if it touches me. Nothing will happen. Okay, paper towel. Squishing now.

. . .

Maybe it’ll climb onto the paper towel. I can take it out to the hall. Except then it might come back in. I’ll take it far out in the hall.

The paper towel’s pretty floppy. It’ll be really near my hand, if it decides to attack. Maybe some cardboard. Like this box! It can crawl on this box.

Okay, it’s going on the box. On — the box, right. Slowly now, over to the door. Open the door, don’t lock myself out, take it in the hall.

This isn’t so bad. This isn’t bad at all. I’ll release it outside. It’s just a poor confused little bug. Who cares if I’m in my pajamas, I’ll just open the door a second and it’ll go off into the nice outside world.

It’s not going off. It’s clinging to the box. OMG where is it?! Still on the box. Get it off, quick quick — fuck.

* * *

So, after the whole ordeal of getting the thing outside, I accidentally squish it on the sidewalk.

So much for being a humanitarian. (Bugitarian? I’m sure there’s a scientific word for bug, I just can’t recall it right now.) At home I’d use my dad’s shop-vac. That thing could suck up bats, y’all. (And oh god wasn’t that quite the evening.)

Another side-effect of living on my own, I suppose. I’ll be forced to get over this bug thing even more. Though there’s a time element to bug capture that’s forced me to deal with them plenty in the past.

Ugh, now I’m feeling all kinds of creepy-crawly all over my skin. I should clear off part of the couch and curl up with a book. Or a movie. And a nice concealing blanket.

January 23rd, 2006

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I’m really enjoying the Flaming Lips’ version of “Can’t Get You Out of My Head.”

Last night I made cornbread in my new cast iron skillet. It was gorgeous, both visually and — gustatorially, I guess is the word. It’s sort of an awkward, bulky word for what it means half the time. Anyway. It came out perfectly crusty on the outside and wondefully soft inside, with a fairly good lift. I may try a touch more baking soda next time, or give the eggs a more vigorous whip. I’d also like to try it with the recipe’s preference of buttermilk over yogurt, as I found it just a bit on the tangy side and I’m used to a more mellow cornbread. All in all I count it a definite success, though. As soon as I find out where there’s a good place to get cheap corn flour I’m going to try my hand at rolling my own tortillas.

I also made chili in the crockpot. Luckily chili is about the easiest thing ever to make and nearly impossible to mess up, since I made enough for a small family of elephants. This time around I tossed in green peppers and jalapenos, and corn right at the end, so it had a lovely mix of colors. It was, by virtue of being chili, delicious.

Alex’s baptism went off swimmingly. My sister and her husband bucked Presbyterian tradition and Alex now had two godmothers and a godfather, in addition to the whole congregation (for all it matters with the latter, since they’re still planning to move soon). He didn’t cry at all; he chewed with great concentration on his fist while he was being baptised, practiced making raspberries at the congregation while the pastor carried him around to meet everyone, and fell asleep soon after we returned to our seats for the sermon.

It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve attended a church service (vs a wedding). I’d forgotten how much I like the Presbyterian worldview, compared to all the others I know (Christian, that is). The pastor talked a little about why Presbyterians don’t evangelize, and the language of the baptism was rather nice — the congregation promised to help raise Alex in the church until he’s old enough to make his own informed decision. It’s easy to forget that the judgy/condemny branches of Christianity aren’t the only ones out there; I think Carrie has been my only other reminder these past years.

My pressure cooker is scheduled for delivery today. It is, in fact, out for delivery, according to the UPS website. I am stupidly giddy to give it a test run. Part of me thinks I should enlist Carrie and/or Jonathan to help me since they’re pressure cooker pros by now, but mostly I know I won’t be able to wait. The rule is I’m not allowed to open the box tonight until after I’ve worked out, or it will never happen. I now have only to find and purchase a suitable kitchen scale and my immediate burning need for kitchen equipment will be over. (That is not to say I don’t still desire a great many things — chief among them a specific granite mortar & pestle, and a KitchenAid stand mixer. The former I am putting off as my next treat-to-self after the scale, and the latter I am putting off indefinitely. Unless I happen to find one at an incredible deal, like my knives. Oh my knives. I also need a blender sometime before smoothie weather.)

Okay. Enough of this Monday morning procrastination. I’m working now. Really.

January 20th, 2006

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I’m frustrated today. Just in general. My perception is heavily skewed. Everything that isn’t perfect is the end of the world. Thank god it’s not the crying week.

And mercifully it’s Friday. I don’t think I could take another day right now. Well — no. I know I could. I just really, really, really don’t want to.

I have a new oven. It’s very brightly and shinily white, and produces all sorts of strange new-appliance sounds and smells. I sort of miss my old burners, though. The flame on this one is crisp and bright and precise (and easier to control, which I like very much), but the old one had this wild thing going on, all soft unpredictable edges. It was taller too — it liked to lick kettles and pots and things. The new flame seems very well-behaved, from what I can tell after a few uses. Not nearly so forward.

No, I have not taken pictures. Have you?

And that is all from me for now. Though I had planned to start the evening off well by sanding and polyurethane-ing the shelving one last time, I am instead going to clear just enough things from the love seat that I can sit on it, and I am going to get out my book, and I am going to read it until I’m finished.

And aww, Jo just called. I begged off doing anything tonight as I’m exhausted, but I’m half sorry because seeing her always does wonders for my mood. The idea of having anyone over while the apartment looks like this, however, is terrifying. So I’m too grumpy to knuckle down and really tackle it, and can’t have anyone over or feel good about going out because it hasn’t been done. Wash, rinse, repeat.

January 16th, 2006

»

This morning I worked out for the first time since before Christmas. Everything’s been insane since then. I am resolving that today will be the pivot between insanity and routine. (And isn’t it telling that I place those in opposition.) It felt good, though it did not make me feel strong like it used to. It made me feel wimpy and a little angry that I let it slip so long. I know it comes back quickly, though.

Afterwards I enjoyed a spoonful of extra-crunchy peanut butter. There’s something so decadent about it straight from the jar. The way it melts on the tongue. Lovely easy bit of protein after exercising.

I was planning to seal my other kitchen shelving right after lunch, but in the process of making lunch I a) discovered my oven isn’t working, and b) flooded my apartment with a bunch of gas. Luckily it’s not terribly cold old — 32F right now, apparently — so I’m sort of enjoying sitting in front of the open windows in my moose slippers watching the traffic pass. I’ve been trying to find a way to justify going to the coffee shop across the street for ice cream, but I had ice cream for my mom’s birthday last night and we’ll be going out again later this week to properly celebrate, once Mel and Travis are back from Vegas. Plus it’s not really ice cream weather. I’ve been wanting to try the coconut, though, because it appears to have whole nilla wafers crumbled into it and it looks divine.

Okay. Curtain rod time.