Merry Christmas

Is anyone else having a hard time getting into the Christmas spirit?  It seems like things just keep going wrong, but I'm really trying.

With that being said, no matter how much Christmas spirit I lack, I AM feeling extraordinarily grateful for my family and friends this year.  I don't think I've ever appreciated my family as much as I do right now.  I know this may be shocking, but I can be a difficult person to love/live with.  I'm picky, I'm anal and sometimes I go off about things that would be better off left unsaid.  Now not to go all corn-tastic on you here, but despite my (very few) shortcomings, my husband and family still love me.  Maybe they'd love me more with a little duct tape, but that's beside the point.  :)

I know we're all supposed to be thankful at Thanksgiving, and I was then too...but Christmas always means more to me, thankfulness-wise, than Thanksgiving.  It's the end of the year, almost New Year's, and it usually makes me reflect more on what's happened than I do in November.  It seems as though it's a time for reflection, perhaps regrets, and definitely improvements.  For whatever reason, I end up thinking about things that irritate the piss out of me more than improvements, but perhaps it's just my nature.  Call me critical, but I am never more caustic than when I'm judging myself.  That's why it's nice to know I'm surrounded by people who love and care about me. 

Yet it still seems like everything is going wrong.  I know this can't just be happening to me.  Every year, it's something different...but it's always some kind of unavoidable drama.  Some years it's holiday planning drama, some years it's my stupid mouth drama, some years it's so unavoidable that I don't even know I'm involved in drama.  By the time Christmas rolls around, I'm so pissed off and sick of everyone that I forget the "reason for the season" and the fact that I'm supposed to be happy. 

However, I've made a decision.  Instead of moping around and focusing on all the stupid drama that is here, yet again, just in time for the Christmas season, I am going to reflect on all the reasons my family and friends were blessed this year. 

We moved into our new house and it is every bit as wonderful as we hoped it would be.  Several of our friends got married and had babies this year, which is always exciting.  One friend got a new kidney, got a dog and got married all in the span of a year, so I think he wins the prize for best year!  The vast majority of my family is healthy and we are happy to have the opportunity to spend another Christmas with those who aren't.  Harvest didn't end until a week ago, but the corn turned out well and our contracts remained intact.  Two of our friends moved closer to us (it's a big step to move closer to the Ridge!) so we are thankful to have them near by.  Last, but certainly not least, I left the Journal-Star at what is likely the best possible time, and began to fill my time writing this blog.  I am so thankful to continue to have a creative outlet that gets a great response.  There are no words to express how wonderful it is to be praised for doing something that just feels right.  Keep the feedback coming, it really means a lot!  Oh...and have a MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Best Quote Ever...thanks Mom!

There's a running joke in my family about how the Baby Jesus figurine has been missing from the nativity scene for several years now.  No one knows why, where he went (to get a tuxedo t-shirt?  He likes to party!) or how Baby Jesus could disappear, but he did.  And this is what Mom had to say about it:

"I have to move some shit out of the way to make room for Baby Jesus.  That's symbolic of how my Christmas has been.  It hasn't been about baby Jesus, it's been about crap!"

And when I told her the quote made my blog she said:
"I tell ya, it's either my boobs or Baby Jesus."

Small Town Tag

I've often blogged about how everyone in my area seems to tell me to keep everything a secret, including mundane things that I would never have second guessed...like announcing on Facebook that we are going on vacation.
Them: "Oh no, don't say that!  Then everyone will know!" 
Me: "Uh...yeah, that's why I posted it on Facebook!" 
Them: "I can't believe you would tell everyone that you're going on vacation!" 
Me: "I can't believe you don't get excited enough TO tell everyone you're going on vacation." 
Them: "Yeah, but then they will know you're not home and someone could come rob your house!" 

Ok, first of all...no one in this area has an alarm on their house (probably not supposed to say that either).  So if you were the kind of person who wanted to break in (ie the kind of person who has no regard for their own life and/or shotguns), you could do it any day, not just while we're on vacation.

 Second, if you're my friend on Facebook (or anywhere else for that matter) I would hope you wouldn't want to rob my house (plus now my suspect list is narrowed down.  "Officers, question all 412 facebook friends right away!!  Oh, and don't forget my 11 blog followers!") 

Third, if you're REALLY my friend, you probably know where the spare key is hidden (or if there is one). 

And last but not least, if you are truly my friend, you know that we don't have anything worth stealing!  Broken flat screen tv?  It's all yours.  Target Christmas rug?  Watch out, it bleeds in the washing machine.  Router?  It's only been struck by lightning once, so you might get something out of that. 

People are stupid.  But even with all of the above being said, I STILL did not realize just how efficient the Small Town Telephone Tag really can be.  It's like a sick and twisted phone tree.  Case in point:
Last week Adam sent me to the auto parts store for a product to remove all the water from the diesel in his engines.  (Clearly, I knew exactly what I was looking for...NOT.)  I ran into a friend, Richie, in the parking lot.  He was leaving as I was going in.  The store did not have enough of what I was looking for (Hell, it was a miracle they could even understand what I was talking about, let alone have any of the actual product in stock!), so I had to go to the other auto parts store.  I ran into Richie again at the 2nd auto parts store and he informed me that my tags were expired on my plates.  Sure enough, for the second year in a row, I never got them in the mail and they expired in October.  Great.  I leave the auto parts store and head across town (maybe 3 miles) to the grocery store.  The goal is to get in and out...so I buy a case of Bud Light and a gallon of milk and hit the road.  (Hey, it's a recession...we're down to the bare necessities.) By the time I pulled out of the parking lot, my husband called and told me I need to go across the street to replace my expired tags.  I'm like...how did you know?  Apparently, in the time I drove across town, bought the necessities, and got in my car, Richie called our mutual friend Randy, who called Adam.  Randy and Adam had been on the phone for 10 minutes before Adam called me.  I guess it's nice that they were all concerned...but don't think I don't know that if any of the 3 of them would have seen me with a piece of toilet paper stuck to my shoe, or a giant spider in my hair...nary a word would've been spoken. :)  Good thing it was just a license plate. 

More Daily Blogging Fun

I'm combining two days' posts into one because they're short.

December 9th: Best Album of the Year

Taylor Swift Fearless.  That is a no-brainer. 
At the beginning of the year, I wasn't much of a TS fan.  I thought all her songs were sung in minor keys, which isn't flattering to most voices, no matter how talented you are.  But then I really started listening to her music, and learning about how she's written all of these songs herself.  She plays her own instrument.  She has her own line of guitars.  Pretty much, Taylor gives off this vibe that if you could just meet her, you'd instantly be best friends.  So to all of those people out there who don't understand the draw to Taylor and her music...there you have it.  She is my best friend, she just doesn't know it yet. 


December 10th: Best Place of the Year

Normally, I would say Aruba, for obvious reasons (i.e. beach, sand, crystal clear blue water, friendly people, great weather, etc).  With the circumstances of the year, however, I have to say my favorite place is my house.  We put so much money time and money energy into the design, building and completion of our home, and this year it finally became a reality.  HALLELUJAH!  Now who wants to come over for drinks? :)

Moment of Peace

Back to the Best of 2009 Challenge!

December 8th, Moment of Peace

My moment of peace came through this blog, so thank you to all of you!

For the past year or so, I've been mentally exhausted due to all the questions about babies and when they're showing up on our doorstep (by a stork of course).  So one day, I finally gathered up my courage and went on a rant about why people won't just leave me the F alone. 

To my surprise, I learned that I am not the only woman in the world who doesn't piss her pants around babies.  I'm not the only woman in the world who hasn't known she wants to be a mother since day one.  I am not the only woman in the world who likes being able to go out to lunch/shopping/wherever and carry a purse, instead of a diaper bag. 

That blog received so much positive attention and so many great, insightful comments.  Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.  It's really nice to know that I'm not crazy. 

That is why I enjoy hearing from people who read this blog.  I can rant about some random, crazy shit...and you all remind me that it's ok.  Thanks for putting my heart at peace over the baby issue.  Words cannot describe how wonderful it is not have that off my chest and out of my head!

Hours of entertainment, that one

For all those of you out there who have some ridiculously romantic ideas about how "normal,"  "well-adjusted" and "unpretentious" your children would be if you could just raise them in the country...this blog is for you. 

Meet my husband (or, in this case, Exhibit A)

In fact, this photo may explain the upcoming story.

My husband was raised in a rural area outside of Peoria.  Not nearly as rural as Ridgetopia, but rural nonetheless.  (Yes, that was a sentence fragment.  Don't think I missed it.)  One would think, even growing up in a "country" environment, he would be wise to the ways of standard shipping practices.  You would be wrong.  Must be that fresh country air. 

Last week, we missed a scheduled delivery from FedEx.  We got one of those annoying sign-the doorknocker-and-retape (because some of us cannot properly read the instructions and have already broken the tape)-to-your-door-we'll-be-back-tomorrow-hope-it's-not-raining-thankssomuch-FedEx deals.  Fanfreakingtastic.  And it was raining the next day...and we were scheduled to be out of town.  AWESOME!

The package was a Christmas present for me so, naturally, I was trying my hardest:

1. Not to open it and retape it before Adam got home

2. To restrain myself from googling/reverse whitepage searching the mysterious return address

3. To make sure when it DID arrive, it was taken care of and not damaged by Mother Nature's bitchy tricks. 

I called Adam to explain that we'd missed the package but FedEx would bring it back the next day.  There was a long pause...and then my normally common sensical husband proved legions of teachers wrong by asking what is certainly deemed a stupid question (like Santa....they DO exist!). 

Adam: So...does UPS deliver FedEx?

Me: (Long pause) (Hysterical laughter) WHAT?

Adam: Ok, asshole, I know they are 2 different companies...but does the UPS man ever deliver packages for FedEx?

Me: (More hysterical, silent teared, laughing)

Adam: (Hangs up)

He later informed me that he is "not a moron," it's just that he's never SEEN the FedEx man...so he couldn't be sure if he really exists. 

You know, kind of like how we keep getting new Tupac songs?

But back to that "fresh country air."  I wouldn't put too much faith in it, yuppie-moms-to-be.  Look what it can do to adults (Exhibit B):

Let's see how long this lasts...

Best of 2009 Blog Challenge

I heard about this idea from my girl over at Hilarity Ensues and I think it's pretty cool.  Plus, this way I won't have to stay up all night thinking about how many days of bad luck I've added up by not filling out email Christmas surveys.

The basic idea is to blog on a different topic for each day of December, recounting the best (fill in the blank) of 2009.  Like D., I also am psyched to not have to think about things to write about on my own...not that Adam leaves me in short supply...

December 7th: Best Blog (you didn't know you were missing) of 2009
Since it would be rude to nominate myself and all my awesomeness...damn.  I'll go with author Jen Lancaster's blog Jennsylvania.  She started out as an unemployed ex-sorostitute, emailing her friends about the trials and tribulations of finding a new job...and ended up becoming an author.  She loves Twilight, cats and shoes...no wonder it's also Adam's favorite blog!  (Just kidding...in case you couldn't tell.  He barely knows what a blog is.)  My favorite post so far this year is Taylor, Show Me on the Doll Where the Bad Cougar Touched You.

Hope my pipes don't bust!

I try to avoid making comments that could be considered sexist/stereotypical.  But, in my experience, in the event of a plumbing problem, a woman will call a plumber 10x over before a man even admits he can't fix it. 

Which brings me to my next point.  Why would you create a logo that will most likey offend, irritate or disgust your target audience? 

I don't consider myself a prude, but that is truly disgusting.  I will never hire them just because of that logo.  There are so many jokes you could make about plumbers that don't have to be nasty.  Heck, you could even talk about plumber's crack and it would be less disgusting than talking about your "wet spot." 

Who DOES that?  Side note:  this van was spotted in Pekin.  That does not surprise me. 

Goofy Ridge Karaokee

Karaokee can be fun and entertaining...but in Goofy Ridge it's all of the above, x10. 

Normally it's actually something I refer to as "scary-okee" because it involves topless lesbians butchering Faith Hill's top hits...at a bar that looks like a double-wide.  Don't worry though, there's a handicapped ramp....because if there's anything Goofy Ridge is, it's inclusive.  Unless you're a minority.

This weekend, however, I heard versions of the classics that were so fantastic I had to share.
You are probably all familiar with the song "The Lion Sleeps Tonight, but I bet you did not know the lyrics are as follows (I certainly didn't):
In the jungle, the mighty jungle
The lion sleeps tonight
My weiner's wet, my weiner's wet
My weiner's wet, my weiner's wet

Or perhaps you might remember The Monkees' hit "I'm a Believer."   Recognize these lines?
Then I saw her face, now I'm a believer
Not a trace, of doubt in my mind
I'm in love, Oh, I'm a believer!
I couldn't eat her if I tried

I started wondering if Goofy Ridge had its own XM satellite radio station, what it might be called.  
Meth Metal Mania?
Horses, Hillbillies and Hank Williams Jr.?
Soul Survivor...of Kissin' Cousins?

You just never know around here. 

It's not over til it's over. Seriously.

Just when you think you've got things all figured out, God reminds you that you are sorely mistaken.  If you're lucky, you can laugh about it later.

I honest-to-God thought that people were over the whole I "don't work" thing.  Really, I did. 

I mean...I'm over actually caring what people think/say about it.  It's been 7 months.  It's not new information.  I don't have a 9-5, whoop dee doo. It works for me, it works for my husband, it works for my family.  Really, it does.

I no longer feel the need to explain what I "do all day" or why I quit PJS.  It's none of your business.  Really, it's not.

With that being said, I do notice when people STILL make comments.  Maybe more so than before, since they're less frequent and less intentionally hurtful and/or nosy.  Mostly, these comments make me wonder what Adam thinks.  I often relay the stupid comments to him over dinner, but he never says anything.  Not a word.  I started to wonder if maybe the reason he didn't say anything was that he'd changed his mind and wanted me to go back to the paper every day.  Then I really started freaking out.  I don't care what anyone thinks...except my husband...and if he's upset about it, then we have a real problem.  Really, we do.

When I asked him why he doesn't comment, he got pretty upset.  He said he thinks those people are stupid and it actually hurts his feelings too because people are saying mean things to his wife, and even though we both know they are untrue and ridiculous, it's still hurtful for him to hear that they're hurting me.  He said he's tired of having to explain and/or justify our personal decisions and thinks it's absolutely outrageous that people actually want justification.  We don't ask anyone to explain why they go back to work after having children, or why they don't.  We don't ask people why they purchase a specific vehicle or why they live in a certain area.  We just assume they made the decision that works best for their family, and that it's none of our business.  He said he didn't realize our decision would be so controversial that it would warrant people feeling that they actually had a right to question it.  Lastly, he said he is sick and tired of people not realizing that it's rude and disrespectful to BOTH of us, not just me, to make these comments.  I thought it was pretty sweet for him to stick up for me!  So the next time you have an ignorant/seemingly innocent (depending on who you ask) comment, I have one thing to say to you:  Really, fuck off!

I'm 27, yipee-ki-yay.

If anyone wonders why it's sometimes 2-3 weeks between blogs, it isn't because I don't write.  I write a lot of things that never get posted.  Sometimes because they're inappropriate, sometimes because I don't even mean them--I just need to get something off my chest.  But sometimes, despite my doubts, I actually do publish them.  This is one of those blogs.

Yesterday was my 27th birthday. 

I LOVE birthdays.  Especially MY birthday.  Now Christmas is my "favorite" holiday.  It has its own songs, decorations, food and drinks, church services and celebration in general.  If my birthday had its own songs, decor, food and drinks, it would be my favorite holiday instead.  Also, it's a little more PC to say Christmas is your favorite than admitting that really your birthday is the best.  :)

I don't understand people who don't like their birthday.  Well, I should say I didn't understand.  Normally my thought process regarding birthdays goes a little something like this: it's the ONE day every year when it's all about YOU and no one can call you selfish or arrogant for thinking so.  Who doesn't love that?!

Then yesterday rolled around. 

Adam woke me up and wanted to give me one of my gifts.  I was really excited, so I scrambled around for my contacts, ran into the living room and waited.  He hands me an envelope.  All I could think is..."what kind of present fits into an envelope?  It better not be a gift card!"  Inside the envelope were 4 deer permits.  DEER PERMITS!  Was this a joke?  Does he really think we're going to start some new kind of "couples activity," hunting together?  I don't have a gun, a FOID card, a hunting license, hunting clothes...or, most importantly, ANY DESIRE TO HUNT ANIMALS.  My confusion and disillusionment must have been written all over my face because Adam was cracking up by this point. 

He meant it as a joke.  When he signed me up (for land owner's permits and regular permits), he intended to use my tags in addition to his own (call the game warden!)...only he quickly realized 3 things:
1.   The govt. isn't stupid.  Since I don't have a FOID card or license, he can't use my tags and neither can I (as if I wanted to). 
2. Since he signed me up for landowner's permits, I'm going to get those every year from now on, INSTEAD OF HIM because....
3. When he signed me up, it kicked him out of the system for Mason County and he can no longer legally hunt deer in Mason County because it gave me permits instead of him.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

#3 alone made the early wakeup call worth it and then some. 

Unfortunately, he had to go to work right after that. 

It wasn't until he was gone for awhile that I had a major realization.  And not in a good way. 

Like I said, I debated posting this, and truthfully, as I'm typing, I'm still debating. This is intensely personal and the last thing I want is a pity party. But, here goes nothin'.

For some stupid reason, it never hit me how alone I am out here...until yesterday.  I've never EVER, not in my entire life EVER, spent my birthday alone.  I was either in school, with roommates, parents or siblings, or at work w/ my co-workers, who always make a big deal over birthdays since everything else about PJS blows.  Never been sitting at home, alone, with no plans and nothing to do.  Man, that was depressing.  So naturally, I started thinking about the fact that this particular day is really no different than any other day...which only made me feel worse.

Ridge living is a hard life.  And I didn't know it until now.  It doesn't matter how nice your house is, or how much stuff you have in it.  It doesn't matter if you're married, single, working or not working.  Ridge living is a hard life.  There is NOTHING here.  I guess I was always so happy to have a good marriage and finally have friends locally that I never realized how lonely this way of life can be.  Or how dependant my happiness is on having people around me.  How ironic that on the one day of the year when everyone is supposed to be paying attention to me, I feel the most lonely.  PA-thetic! 

To be totally honest, I spent most of the day crying, stopping only for texts, phone calls, cards in the mail and nice birthday FB messages.  Even Dr. Phil had me crying...and you know that's bad, because I love me some Dr. Phil!  So when I say that it really meant a lot for all of you to call, text, send cards and come out for my birthday, please know that it REALLY REALLY meant a lot.  I cannot even verbally express how much.  Thank you. 

Luckily, I did get to go to Grizzly's Mallard Club (if that's not birthday-quality fine dining, I don't know what is!) and have an AWESOME pizza and drinks with our friends.  Even bad days have something worth celebrating.  That's the lesson I learned from all of this. 

Oh, and for those of you who are wondering, Adam did get me an actual gift, not just deer permits.  Tomorrow morning, I am heading to Peoria to Natural Concepts for an "ultimate relaxation" spa package, which includes a 60 minute facial, 90 minute hot stone massage and a pedicure.  I've never had a facial before, so I'm kind of nervous...but mostly really excited! 

Even bad days have something worth celebrating.  Always. 

I figured it out!

This has to be the reason why the weather is not cooperating for harvest!

Naked Girls Plow for Rain!

Damn naked Indians ruin everything!

Sheriff's Report Revisited

It's been awhile since I've seen anything worthy of blogging in the Mason County Democrat. 

Today there was only one, but the naivete of the wording alone is worth a mention. 

10-16 at 8:53 pm, Rural Topeka: Complaint about strong odor of gas coming from house. 

I wonder who was walking past our house and made that call...

Is there no other way to say that?

Flow charts rock!

Ever notice how your life can best be described by a flow chart?  No?  Just me?  That's cool. 

Here's how my flow chart would go right now (minus the cool boxes and arrows):


October--> rain--> no harvest--> cranky husband--> serious shortage of Busch Light in the immediate Havana area

Or maybe this:

October--> Christmas planning begins--> mind-numbingly ridiculous behavior--> serious shortage of Captain Morgan in the immediate Havana area

October is way too early to be dealing w/ Christmas planning.  It happens every year, yet every year I'm surprised when my birthday hasn't even rolled around, but we're discussing Christmas plans. 

By "Christmas planning," I mean arranging which family gets which day, etc.  Here is the thing about planning Christmases...ok several things:


1. The very nature of the phrase "planning Christmases" shows that the purpose of Christmas has already been defeated.  At least if you're a religious person.  The supposed purpose of Christmas is to celebrate the birth of Jesus.  You do this by going to church with your family.  Therein lies the problem: family*.  Here's a new flow chart:
Christmas--> family-->drama

2. Once you realize that you're planning how to arrange your life so as to piss off the least amt. of family members, you also have to accept the following chart:
Family--> drama--> guilt
No matter what you do, you cannot win.  You will inevitably be guilted by members of one or all parties in question when you cannot perform to the appropriate "standards," none of which are set by or accomodating to you.

3. You cannot plan Christmases based on the theory that "we don't know how many Christmases we have left" with a certain person. That is ass-backwards.  You could argue that theory every single year, considering that none of us know the number of our days...just that they are numbered.
Guilt--> bending to the will of the masses--> having no say in said planning-->serious animosity

4. The meaning of Christmas does not start or stop on Christmas Day.  Jesus was supposedly not even born in December.  More like spring.  So I don't think Jesus would mind if we remembered the REASON we are celebrating, rather than the reason we are celebrating on Friday.
So instead of this flow chart:
Serious animosity-->resenting every second of all 5 straight days of Christmas "celebrations"

Perhaps we could end with this one:
Compromise for the sake of the family (without complaining about how much you are sacrificing)--> family togetherness at Christmas for either the last, or the beginning of many more, Christmas CELEBRATIONS to come.



*Sad that I even need to state this, but this is in no way directed towards any member of my family.  It is meant as a social commentary on the sad state of affairs in many families during the "holiday" season.  Might as well call it the damn present season, because that's all anyone cares about.

Havana Wine Fest

My friends and I attended the Havana Wine Fest this weekend.  And, in case anyone was wondering, we did drink some "new" sangria.  :)

The highlight of events like this in Mason County isn't the food, the booze or the weather (last year people were sweating, this year people were freezing).  No, no.  The highlight of these events is the people-watching.  Those of you who read this blog regularly will probably not be surprised to learn that I've spent a large portion of my life being the snarky bitch in the corner; probably laughing at you or someone you know.  The Havana Wine Fest was no different.

What I truly enjoy is watching the upper and lower classes interact. 
"Excuse me man with no teeth and Carharts, can you please hand me an ashtray?" 
"Sure thing, wouldn't want you to ash on your new Uggs, princess."   LOVE.IT.

There were the usual suspects, of course:
1. Crazy Red @ the piano, tripping to her own acidic beats, and showing some major jazz hands
2. The Owner, trying to get my friend to give back some of her wine tickets since she had to work later that evening (He was unsuccessful in his attempts, by the way.  Do not stand between this woman and her sangria!)
3. The Ringmaster, who spent the majority of the day looking lost and hitting on his "girlfriends."

This really wouldn't have been worthy of a blog, however, had it not been for the one new face I captured on film.  Havana Hollywood.

So many problems with this situation. 

1. Who wears fur?  Seriously.  Gross!

2. I'm no fur expert, but if you are going to wear fur, shouldn't it be a pretty color?  It's kind of hard to tell here, but what HH is wearing is this weird yellow/brown color...very reminiscent of dog vomit.

3. If it's cold enough to wear fur the color of vomit, perhaps you should not be wearing a sleeveless cotton shirt, short skirt and bare legs under the coat. 

4. If you're going to have bare legs under the coat, perhaps you should make sure they're not covered in cuts, bruises and scars to the point that people wonder if you're using drugs or just played football.

Aside from all the fashion policing going on here today, one person deserves a major shout out. 

David Zalaznik, a staff photographer for the Journal-Star, held a book signing at the wine fest for his recently published book Life Along the Illinois River.  He kept us girls entertained for the entire wine fest, despite the freezing cold weather.  His book is available for purchase on Amazon.com.  You can view more of his work on his website http://www.davidzalaznik.com/

Some secrets are too good to keep

Despite what it may seem, I don't share every juicy/embarrassing story on this blog.  Some things need to be kept private.  This story was going to be one of them, because I assumed the story was over.  It's not. 

Saturday night, Adam, some friends and I went to the Sportsman's Club in Spring Lake.  For whatever reason, Adam decided it was a good night for large draft beers.  (Adam normally gets ridiculously long headaches from draft beer.)  We all had a really great time and headed home around 11. 

At 1 AM, I was awakened by Adam getting out of bed and heading out of the room.  Given past experiences with this type of behavior (New Year's, anyone?), I stayed awake listening to see where he was going.  I thought maybe he was headed to the bathroom...but he got to the laundry room, turned on the light, and stopped.  I couldn't hear any more footsteps, so I thought maybe he'd fallen asleep.  By the time I got to the laundry room, he'd opened the front-load washer and was peeing on it.  I freaked out!  I finally dragged him to bed, where he remained for the rest of the night. 

Sunday morning I filled him in, and he bleached the washing machine.  I was still irritated, but moved on.  That is where I thought the story ended.  We've all done stupid things when drunk, so I was gonna keep that one off the blog.

This morning, my dirty clothes hamper was overflowing, which explains why I couldn't find anything to wear besides pajamas.  I decided to head over to the laundry room and assess the situation.  It reeks of pee.  Really, really, really strong pee.  But I saw Adam bleach the areas he'd peed on, so I couldn't figure it out.  Mice, perhaps?  Either way, the "self-clean" cycle was definitely in order. 

I opened the washer to make sure I wouldn't ruin anything w/ the self-clean cycle (it uses straight bleach) and immediately started gagging.  Apparently Adam did not pee ON the washing machine, he peed INTO the washing machine, and there were 2 pairs of socks in there, that have been there, with the door shut, for 2 days, soaked in urine.  I got light-headed and couldn't stop gagging, so I poured some bleach in and ran out of the room.

My mom called while the washer was running, so I didn't notice that the washer stopped.  When I went to check, it had the F light on, which means the cycle failed.  There was water on the floor, suds on the washer's drawer, and suds behind the washer.  Uh oh.

After careful inspection, I also noticed the ENTIRE washing machine was full of suds, as if you'd put liquid dish soap in the dishwasher.  Turns out, this is basically EXACTLY what I did.  I was gagging so much from the dirty pee socks that I didn't pay quite enough attention to the bleach I used.  You see, we have 2 bottles of bleach.  Both are blue, both are clorox, both are similar in size and shape.  In my rush to get out of there, I must've grabbed the kind that's more like detergent w/ a bleach additive, instead of the straight bleach.  Whoops.

Nothing more fun than spending a Monday morning scooping pee suds out of the washing machine. 

How early is too early for straight vodka?

Jesus laughs, I cry.

Friday has been an FML kind of day. 

I slept like crap Thursday night, so I was screwed before I even woke up (for the 56th time).

When I did finally wake up, I looked at the clock and bolted out of bed because I thought the exterminator was coming any second, and I didn't want to be in my pajamas and braless.  Not a pretty picture, I assure you.  Nothing like jumping for joy over the exterminator.

Then I bugged Adam about whether he was going to work because it was 9 am--pretty late for harvest.  He politely informed me that it was 7:55.  No WONDER I was so sleepy.

Since I had this newfound extra time, I decided to complete my Wii workout before the exterminator arrived.  (All thoughts of looking presentable promptly went out the window.)

Everything was going great.  I finally thought I was making progress and actually LIKING the exercise, which is a major development.  Apparently, Jokester Jesus was bored, because my Wii just up and froze, right before I finished the workout.  I guess I was supposed to watch Project Runway after all!  :)

The exterminator showed up and, as predicted, I was smelly, sweaty and overall gross.  He came to get rid of the mice that live in our attic and drive the dog b-a-n-a-n-a-s.  The entrance to the attic is in the garage ceiling. The exterminator is afraid of heights.  Great.  So now Adam and I have to decide who is going to climb the ladder and brave Mice Mountain,  Thankfully Adam was honored with that responsibility.

Adam left for work, and I was left to deal with the broken Wii.  Nintendo customer service is AMAZING!  Although it's always annoying, when you know something is broken, to have to go through all the "troubleshooting" (such an ironic term!) only for the customer service department to eventually say exactly the same thing you said when you called: "My shit is broken.  You need to fix it."  Nintendo is mailing us a brand new Wii, which we will keep permanently, and we send back the broken one in the same box the new one shipped in, for $5.  I love Nintendo.  All it took was a 10 minute phone call.  By the time I hung up the phone and walked to the computer, I had an email w/ a tracking number and instructions.  LOVE them.

Pottery Barn, however, is pushing my limits of sanity.  We ordered curtains, rods and tie backs for the living room and bedroom.  $77.49 just for shipping.  REGULAR STANDARD SHIPPING.  How freaking heavy are linen curtains?  FML.  But I'm the dumbass that hit "confirm purchase" even after I knew what was up.  Now, you may be wondering why I haven't taken the potential weight of the curtain rods into consideration.  They were ordered with the curtains and tie backs, but are in a separate box.  I get that--they're big!  The problem is, if all of this was ordered, all of it was in stock, why are the curtain rods not scheduled for delivery until Monday? 

Can't hang the curtains, because there are no rods.  Can't screw in the ends of the rods, because there are no rods.  Can't hang up the tie backs to tie back the curtains...because there are no curtains.  Why?

Color.  We ordered silk curtains for our room, in a color called "clay," which looked to be a medium cool beige, similar to our paint.  At the time I thought that was funny, since clay is red, but I went with it.  The "clay" curtains arrived, and they are gold.  WTF?  Back to the box.  The "espresso" "linen" curtains are some weird cotton basketweave, and if that's what color PB's morning espresso is, they must be using a crapload of vanilla Coffeemate.  Back to the box.  I am becoming more and more glad by the minute that I spent so much $ on shipping a load of turd colored fabric I can't use.  I bet everyone reading this can imagine what color "turd" colored fabric would be.  But PB can't figure out "espresso."  Were these people high? Maybe they should start naming their fabrics after "funyuns" and "nacho cheese doritos" bags. I'm sure they know those by heart.

Why is it so hard to get what you paid for?

The similarities are frightening

Anyone remember video dating from the 80s? 

I didn't, until a friend sent me a Youtube montage. 

Then, I came across what is possibly the greatest video dating tape ever. 

I now present to you: 
Video Dating for Ridge Rats

Enjoy!

I'm making life lemonade

It seems like a lot of people are questioning the existence of God lately. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's just coming up more in the news since school is starting and there's the evolution vs. creationism debate, or because Dan Brown has a new book out, who knows?

Either way, for the record, I 100% believe in God. And I'm not going to go on a religious tirade about it.

One of many reasons I believe in God is that there must be something/someone out there who is having a hell of a time pulling the strings in my life right now. At first I was certain God was having a laugh at my expense...but then He gave me so many more things I could join in laughing about, that I had to share.

Let me start with Thursday.

Our office tv is busted, but under warranty. We had a samsung repairman scheduled to come between 8-9 am. 9 am rolls around, and he's nowhere to be found. I checked my voicemail, only to find that he apparently called while I was in the shower, to see if the part needing replacing had arrived at our house yet, and when we would like to schedule an appointment for him to install it.

First of all, why did the part get shipped to our house if he's just going to have to call and check that it's there before the appointment is made? Couldn't it have been shipped to HIS house and we could've avoided the whole mess?

Second, what the hell do you mean when would I like to schedule an appointment? Where were you an hour ago? You know, between 8-9 am? On your scheduled appointment via Samsung?

I finally get a hold of him and he says there's been a mixup. OF COURSE there has. I kinda brainstormed that one when you didn't show up and left me an asinine voicemail. Apparently the "appointment" scheduled originally was an appointment for him to call me and see whether the part had arrived. WHO DOES THAT?

On top of all this, I ran out of contacts, and had a very much needed eye dr appointment that morning, in Peoria, at 10:15. I was rushing around, so we finally scheduled the appointment for 4 pm that day. Surely that would give me enough time to get my errands done, and get home.

Wrong. He was already there when I got home. I come in, dragging bags of crap with me, and Adam's practically rushing out the door. "Ok honey, glad you're back, I NEED to go help Heath put his pool table together, gotta go!" Oooook. "Don't worry, the repairman is almost done. The tv is way worse than we thought, so he doesn't have all the parts he needs and he's going to have to come back." GREAT. Sooooo freakin glad I rushed home for this.

Of course, since I was rushing home, I didn't stop and go to the bathroom like I wanted to. Now I have a dilemma.

I'm the only one home. The repairman is "almost done," and the last thing I want is for him to get done and have to go searching through our house to find me in the bathroom. So I wait. And wait. And wait. Apparently, he is not "almost done." I, on the other hand, am done waiting to use the bathroom. Now, it's time to strategize.

I cannot use the bathroom next to the office, because I do not want an audience. I cannot use my master bathroom because then he would have to stalk through the house and find me, and I might not hear him coming. This leaves the half bath in the mudroom. Perfect, if he tries to leave I can hear him, and I'm far enough away that he won't be bothered w/ the sound effects of what is turning into a major Code Brown.

But, God is a humorist.

I finally head to the bathroom, and I'm miserable. Things are not progressing as planned. FINALLY I'm near mission accomplished, and my nightmare begins. The repairman is done. He's doing exactly what I feared, walking through the house, "Lauren? Lauren? Hello? Anyone home?" Could today get any better?

OCD note: I hate shaking hands with people when I've just washed them. I mean, you know what I've been doing, so does the fact that I've washed them even matter? But I digress...

Sure enough, new parts are being shipped to the house (just arrived today, so we will see how long before I get another "appointment") and someone, maybe not even him, will be back, sometime, he doesn't know when, to fix the tv. Fan-freaking-tastic.

Like I said, I had my doubts as to whether or not the day could get any better. Then God handed me this gem. I now present to you, the Ferrariata. Please take a good look at all of its glory.

I find the tape quite lovely.

The masterpiece that is the Ferrariata belongs to the Samsung repairman. Thank you Jesus.

Thursday night at dinner, our friend informed us that she had a drink we just "had to try. It's this new stuff called sangria. You're gonna love it!" Apparently she did realize sangria is not new, just that the product in malt liquor form is new. I did not love it. Tastes like gum. Bacardi sangria, in case anyone wondered.

Further into the dinner, our neighbor was telling stories, but not making too much sense. Another friend asked her what time she started drinking that day. She replied, "17."

After dinner our sangria friend invited us over to hang out while the guys finished putting the pool table together. You see, "put pool table together" earlier that day had been code for "drink beer with my buddies." Adam's excuse was that he'd been "stuck at home all day with Bella." That entailed watching tv and making his own lunch, so it was pretty taxing. Now the pool table was still unfinished, and their housewarming party was the next day, so the boys actually had to work on it. We headed over for what turned out to be the most homoerotic redneck pool table assembly I've ever witnessed. Unfortunately, these photos are too hot for this blog to handle.

Instead, you get a summary of my lessons learned from the pool table incident:

1. Crack kills.

2. Moose knuckles should not be created voluntarily.

3. If Adam thinks it's hard being stuck at home all day with the dog, perhaps it's time to start another blog called "how to know you are NOT ready to have children."

Friday morning, I decided to eat our english muffins before they expired. I sliced my finger open in the process, and just deep enough that it hurt and I needed a band-aid to keep it from pulling apart at every opportunity. When Adam came home from lunch, he informed me that the muffins are pre-sliced. So glad I wasted that cut.

After that, I determined it was time to start the Wii EA Active fitness program I bought 2 months ago and never used. "Medium intensity" was a mistake. I spent the rest of the weekend unable to get my legs to a seated position without shaking and groaning. Always nice to remind yourself just how out of shape you are when starting a new exercise regimen. Luckily, that did motivate me to keep going, clearly I need it! It just took 2 days before I could walk to the Wii and try it again.

Friday night, we had a birthday party as well as a housewarming party to attend. We all had a great time, so many thanks to Heath, Alicia, Corey, Cindy and Keith for their hospitality.

Saturday morning, I intended to clean the bathroom, and when I went to empty the trash I noticed a new magazine had been added to the reading pile. Adam's reading pile.

Me: "Honey, I noticed you've been reading a new magazine in the bathroom. Since when do you read Midwest Living?"

Adam: "So? What's wrong with that? There's like, RECIPES and shit in there!"

How can I argue with that?

A few weeks ago, our sangria friend had a Lia Sophia book party. Someone ordered some jewelry, but the check was lost. 2 weeks later, she found the check while doing a routine cleaning; the check was under the bathroom scale. Apparently, her boyfriend lacked reading material as well, and the Lia Sophia catalog was all he could find during his time of need...the rest is history.

Since my quads were all torn up from my pathetic Wii workout, I asked Adam if he could drive me to CVS so that I could pick up the prescription for the ring. Sign #2 you are not ready to have children: If your husband suggests a John Deere O-ring as a viable birth control option, in order to avoid a trip to CVS.

Sorry Ty, you are not getting the sale on that one.

That sums up my weekend in the ridge. No doubt there is plenty more ridiculousness to follow.

I Don't Get It

I've been writing this blog in my head for about 3 months. I still don't think I can quite articulate my true feelings on the matter, but I'm going to try. What's a blog for if you can't fill it with all kinds of overly personal, TMI material? :)

How do you (as a woman) decide you're ready to have kids?

This may seem like a simple question to some of you. I suspect those of you who find it so simple are also people who have known for the vast majority of your lives that you wanted to be a mother. That must be nice.

I, on the other hand, have spent the vast majority of my life thinking it was a good possibility that I'd never have children, and I'd be ok with that. Contrary to popular opinion, I do not hate children. They are not at the top of my "fun things to do before you die" list, but I don't hate them. Hell, the fact that they're even ON the list is a huge step.

My supposed distaste for children, babies in particular, doesn't exist. It never has. Had you asked me about it 10 years ago, I might have disagreed, but only because I didn't understand. Look, no one is that excited about screaming, crying, throwing up, pooping your pants, and being incapable of self-preservation, whether we're talking about in infants or adults.

What I admit still confuses me regarding infants (and likely always will!) is not even the actual infant. It's the psycho women around them. My entire life, I've seriously believed something was wrong with me. Why? Because I, unlike the psychos mentioned above, do not have a big O every time there is a baby within a 50 mile radius. I don't get it.

It seems like society expects you, as a woman, to be OBSESSED with all babies, all the time. I'm just NOT. Sure babies are cute, but I don't spend every waking second thinking about them. I love my nieces and nephew, but I'm not dying to create one. When it happens, it happens, I just don't get the craziness.

My family is really big on roles, probably unknowingly. I was always the "book-smart, no common sense, baby hater." My sister was the "street-smart baby lover." Then I quit my job to help my husband on the farm and, presumably one day stay home w/ our imaginary children. My sister ends up having a baby around on a semi-regular basis and can't stand it. Go figure. Take those roles and shove them right up your ass, family. SICK OF IT.

I thought I had my bases covered. We all know that the night of your wedding reception, the questions start. "When are you going to have kids?" "How many kids do you want to have?" "Why do you want to wait a year?" Nosy, intrusive and overall inappropriate, but it happens. It's as if they're all hoping and praying you're already knocked up so they can start planning for the next major life event. Meanwhile, you spend half the time wishing you WERE pregnant so everyone would shut the hell up.

Not me, no no, I had all the answers. Of course I did. "I can't get pregnant now," I'd tell them. "Our maternity insurance doesn't kick in until May." This means I'm off the hook from your stupid fucking questions. Only, I recently learned it doesn't mean that at all, as my mother somehow figured (wishful thinking, perhaps?) that May=March and has been "telling all her friends." Not exactly sure WHAT she has been telling them, but she's telling them. Apparently, I'm just supposed to be knocked up March/May 1st.

Yet, in the midst of all this supposed desire for grandchildren, my entire family makes fun of me. I say we will have kids sooner rather than later, and they laugh and say I'll be the most obnoxious mom in the world. Why? Because I will love my child and think it's the best thing since sliced bread. SOUND THE ALARM!!!!! THE HORROR!!!!! So, maybe I don't know all there is to know about child rearing, but I'm fairly certain love and pride are sort of steps #1 & #2. What is so wrong with that? My own GRANDMOTHER, who I love and cherish dearly, told my mother that whenever I have kids, mom will have to move in with me for weeks because I will be so clueless and helpless. Again...I kinda thought that most new parents (not just moms!) don't know every single thing there is to know (how could they?), and you figure it out as you go. I didn't think you were supposed to be humiliated and ridiculed! But, they're all really desperate for grandchildren. Figure that one out. Sure seems tempting to get involved in that shit storm, doesn't it?

Back to my original question. How do you (as a woman) determine the right time to have children?

If it weren't for my wonderful husband, I know, without a doubt, I would likely remain childless. This isn't because he wants kids, or I don't, or anything of the sort. It's because he is the only person on this Earth that I feel comfortable with as my partner in becoming a parent. He doesn't think I'll be a shitty parent, or make fun of me, or think my questions/reservations are silly. He's not in a hurry. WE LIKE OUR LIVES. So how do you decide to give up the carefree, financially stable, traveling freely, AWESOME lifestyle? For diapers? For the Goofy Ridge educational system?

I keep hearing, "oh you just know." Bullshit. I don't buy it. Maybe someday I will look back at this and laugh. Until then, I call shenanigans!

I keep hearing, "well we're not using protection, so if it happens, it happens. If not, then ok." Shenanigans! You're not using protection. That means you've made the decision to have children, because that is what happens when you have unprotected sex. Just ask the parents of the millions of "surprise" babies! :)

I keep hearing, "isn't it the same way you made the decision to get married?" NO! First of all, there was expensive jewelry, a big party and an awesome tropical vacation involved in my decision to get married. (JOKING, people, relax!) But seriously, getting married meant spending the rest of my life doing the same things I was already doing, with someone I loved. It didn't mean extra financial stress. It didn't mean waking up every 2 hours. It didn't mean shelving my vacations and shoes for braces and college tuition.

I look at all the parents out there, parents who I think are doing a great job. They are self-less. They would do anything for their children. How do you become that self-less? Does it just happen when they hand you the baby? I am not self-less.

Maybe I'll never figure it out. I told Adam there's a possibility I might have to be drunk, or tricked (though it would be pretty hard to trick me into not using the ring, since it's kinda all up in my business!), maybe drugged. Again, not because it isn't something I want to do, but because my mind keeps warning me of all the things that change (everything) the second you get pregnant. Maybe I should just stick with Bella.

Can anyone help me?

Life changes

*WARNING: This blog contains graphic injury photos.*


This looks like it's going to be Part 1 of many.

It's been a rough couple weeks for our family; lots of life changes.

One relative broke off a serious relationship, which is always tough, though this time for the best. All of that, only to be forced to interact with the ex due to the hanging death of a close friend.

My cousin, while cooking french fries on the stove, overheated the oil and rushed to the sink to run water on it. Naturally, this was a terrible idea. Oil and water do NOT mix, and when hot oil splatters, it tends to burn your skin terribly.

The following is a photo of her hand, after the fact. It is graphic.

She has a doctor's appointment this morning to remove the blisters and loose skin. She will be awake and, needless to say, this will be excruciating.

My aunt (her mother) wanted to be at the doctor's appt. this morning, and was en route to my cousin's apartment last night, when she was in a terrible car accident. A car pulled in front of her on the interstate and had no brakes. She swerved to avoid hitting him and broke her good ankle and femur (in 2 places!) in the process. She is currently hospitalized and waiting for surgery to insert a rod in her femur. Through miracles of God and science, she will be able to stand on it (after surgery) in only TWO DAYS! Her ankle, however, cannot be operated on until the swelling goes down.

In more positive life-changes news, another cousin recently got engaged! We are so thrilled for her and her fiance! Nothing brings a family together like a great wedding! Congrats!

Please keep my family in your thoughts and prayers during these difficult and/or stressful times. Looks like we're going to need all we can get.

It's the most horrible time of the year

Ragweed season.

How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways...

In honor of this oh-so-freaking-special time of year, I give you this article:

http://www.cnn.com/2009/HEALTH/09/15/allergies.sex.sleep/index.html

I think it was written by Captain Obvious.

Here are my favorite quotes:

"If you can't breathe, and your nose is running, and your eyes are itchy, and you're sneezing, and you feel awful and you feel tired, you don't feel very sexy," said Dr. Michael S. Benninger, chairman of the Head and Neck Institute at the Cleveland Clinic in Ohio and a lead author of a recent study.

--This guy is a GENIUS. I wonder if it's kind of the same reason Adam finds it hard to feel sexy when he's holding in a fart. Perhaps I will conduct my OWN research to find out.

"Almost all allergy sufferers feel it impacts their sleep," Benninger said. "If you can't breathe, you're not going to sleep well."

--They had to interview 700 people to find out it's hard to sleep when you can't breathe? Whoever funded this "research project" must be PISSED!

"It can be speculated that the chronic obstruction, runny nose, sneezing and decreased smell may all result in impacting the satisfaction of sexual activity," researchers wrote in the study.

--What could be hotter than getting sprayed with snot while having sex? These people are crazy!

"If you're allergic to cats and let's assume that the bedroom is the most frequent place for intimacy and your cat lays on the pillow, and then you go in at night, and you're now sneezing -- that kind of kills it," he said.

--That's it! I don't need to watch Dr. Phil ever again; this guy's advice is too good.

Adam makes me laugh.

I guess it shouldn't surprise me when Adam says or does strange things. After all, this is the same man who eats chocolate cookies while taking a dump, and leaves me to find the crumbs and assume they're mouse turds. But I digress...


Last week we had several fantasy football drafts. I felt this was deserving of at least one fantasy football draft PARTY that *I* actually get to be involved in/invited to. The easiest way to make that happen? Have the party at our house.


I spent the day cleaning up, prepping food, hunting down all of Adam's dirty socks that Bella drug throughout the house--exciting stuff. Needless to say, I was less than pleased when Adam came home and the first thing he said when he came through the door was, "Did you even clean at all today?" Poor word choice, my dear. If you enjoy living, that is.


I got over it, and continued prepping the party food while he took a shower and got dressed.


A couple friends came over and we were having a great time drinking Smirnoff's new Limoncello (awesome AND available at County Market!). After several limoncellos, my bladder was the size of the Hoover Dam, so I headed to the bathroom. Here is what I witnessed when I sat down:







Apparently, while I was prepping the food, he went to all the bathrooms, and folded the tp, hotel style. Actually, not ALL the bathrooms, just the ones w/ public access. Then at 3 am, he got up and thought it would be funny to fold our bathroom's tp the same way, to "confuse" me.


I got a good laugh out of the deal.


I think I must be getting old, because I've noticed lately that whenever I drink, no matter the amount, I tend to have strange dreams. The night before the tp incident, long story short, I was chasing the holy grail of wine recipes (I wish!) and got to a point where the recipe was guarded by a moat full of asian carp sized silver catfish. The catfish were biting my legs horribly and I was screaming. When I woke up and told Adam about this craaaaaaaaazy dream, his first comment was: "Catfish don't have teeth!"


Even in my dreams he knows more than I do. :)

FML

I received an email last week from a concerned friend. I'll post it as close to word-for-word, because it pretty much speaks for itself.



Subj: Spotted at the Manito Subway









My reply: " I think my response is best captured with acronyms. OMG...WTF?!...LMFAO. Can I please use these?"


Her reply: "Of course you can...you know it! I cannot NOT share this with the world!!! I made (my husband) go around the block so I could take these pics and i took one with my phone to send you immediately, but it was too far away."

Woot Woot!

Short blog today.

Quick update for those of you following my weight-loss progress:

I am happy to say I finally dropped below the 200 lb. mark. Woohoo!

I haven't lost as much weight as quickly as the last time, but that's ok. I feel a lot better and am much happier. Even 5 lbs. makes a difference.

The visible difference in stomach bloating is probably my favorite part. No more looking pregnant!

Games Rednecks Play

I love the Sheriff's Report!

Only 3 seriously amusing additions today:

8-16, 12:33 am, Chandlerville: driver throwing fireworks out of car at houses
-Who does that?? I know Chandlerville isn't the height of entertainment, but come on! If this isn't a good example of why parents should spank their kids, I don't know what is. This kid needed a good ass whooping way back when.


8-16, 5:46 pm, Bath: report of possible suspicious activity on a bulldozer
-What could you possibly be doing that is "suspicious" on a bulldozer? This is just weird.


8-16, 6:07 pm, Manito: girls on bicycles messing with caller's mailboxes
-Again...are kids seriously THAT bored?

Also seen in Topeka this afternoon: a man riding his motorcycle with a chocolate lab in the sidecar. Strange...


All information taken from The Mason County Democrat 8-26 issue

Madness

I don't know what's up in the Peoria Journal-Star newsroom...but it's becoming apparent that they're hating on farmers more and more. It really pisses me off, to be frank. Not only because they are my former employer and (no matter how much I hate them) I believe they can and should do better, not only because my husband is a farmer, but also because I am a resident of the farm communities these derogatory articles speak of.

As a member of the communities and residents being villainized in the media, and a former resident of the communities and residents being unwittingly patronized by these ridiculous articles, I feel it is my responsibility to speak up.

Before I go further, let me reiterate that we are not organic farmers. We are not looking to become organic farmers. We have no issues with organic farmers and, in fact, wish them success in their endeavors.

Last week's Sunday PJS featured 2 front page articles bemoaning the horrors that are crop dusting. They interviewed people who live near farms and have, supposedly, experienced negative side effects from their farming neighbors using crop dusting to spread herbicide and fungicide on their corn. They whined and bitched about the terrible chemical known as 2,4 D. They complained that they were given no prior notification that the farmers crops were going to be sprayed. They complained it was hurting their business ventures. They were upset that TWO children in the entire area became ill after a neighboring farm was dusted.

Knowing nothing about farming, chemicals, herbicides, fungicides, fertilizers and crop dusting...this may all sound truly horrific. Sick kids, surprise low flying planes, damage to a business, etc etc.

But let's all unknot our panties and get our facts straight (in that order).

Number one on my list: Mackinaw Winery. Yes I'm calling you out, you idiots.
The owner, Greg Hahn, was quoted as being quite upset that crop dusting on the farm next to his vineyard had killed or at least damaged some of his grapes. I'm sure that's true. Grapes are one of the easiest plants to kill, especially in the local climate. They are rather temperamental and very high-maintenance. I'd like to note that there is a local winery who also grows their grapes locally, who hasn't had this problem. Their grapes are in a location that isn't so close to farmland. Smart.

If someone came and killed off a bunch of my corn, I'm sure I'd be pretty angry too. But if said corn was planted right next to a driving range, and the reason it died was that it got hit by too many golf balls...would anyone really feel sorry for me? Wouldn't it be my fault for planting corn next to the driving range? So why should anyone feel sorry for Greg Hahn and his grapes?

Number two: the people complaining that they didn't have advance warning of nearby fields being crop dusted.
Anyone who has ever been present during a crop dusting knows, you do not need advance warning. The first time I was home while our crops were being sprayed, I had no idea it was going to be any different than any other day. I had no idea anything was going to happen. No advance warning of any kind. When the crop dusting plane flew over our house (they fly low so as not to waste any of the chemicals they're spraying via chemical drift) I started crying. It scared the piss out of me. The plane was so low, it sounded like we were being bombed. I hit the floor, the dog freaked out, it was quite pathetic, looking back. Once I got off the floor and looked up, saw the plane out the window, I calmed down and that was the end of it. Why would I have needed advance warning? If you can't hear that plane coming well ahead of its arrival, you need to have your hearing checked.
Also, what good would it do if you did have advance warning? If you knew it was coming up, what would change? You shouldn't be outside in an area being sprayed, so if you hear it coming, go inside. I cannot think of a single instance where a person would be required to remain outside even though the fields are being sprayed.

This leads me to my next point: Sick kids from chemical drift
First off, a whopping TWO children were sick from chemical drift last year. TWO. They probably have the most stupid parents in the world as well. Also, for those who aren't clear, when the media says they were "sick," they make it sound like sick with leukemia. Not true. It's more like a sore throat, perhaps a little woozy for a day or 2. You could have those symptoms from going to preschool, the grocery store or being in contact with your own family members.
What I can't figure out, is why these kids were still outside after the crop dusting. Again, there's no reason you shouldn't be able to hear these planes. Even if you couldn't, it smells SO BAD after they're done spraying, that there's no way kids would want to stay outside. Just catching a little whiff with my screen door open, I thought I might pass out. WHERE ARE THE PARENTS?! Why did their parents/sitters/whoever not make these kids come inside? The scent goes away in a few hours, I'm sure those kids would have loved to have a legit excuse to come out of the heat and play video games for awhile. I would have made my dog come inside, if it weren't for the fact that she beat me to it. If my golden retriever is smart enough to come in...why isn't your kid?
Then there's that pesky issue of common denominator fault. If you build a house next to a farm, isn't it really your own fault if you experience any chemical drift? If you don't want to deal with it, move back to the suburbs where they most sensory offensive thing sprayed is lilac Febreeze.

Finally, complaints about the "horrible chemicals" in general:
If you want to buy organic, please do. It won't hurt my feelings. But please quit ruining food for the rest of us. In my opinion, unless you are a scientist, farmer or the like, your opinion does not count. Yet none of those people seem to be the ones clogging the media with senseless babble about chemicals. When you work for the FDA, USDA, EPA or CDC, then I will be interested in your opinion.

I've said it before, and I'll say it a million times after this, it should not be a moral issue whether you eat organic or non-organic. It should not be a moral issue how you farm. Farmers are not out to kill the rest of us with their evil chemicals, fertilizers and the like. Farmers, like any other decent human being, stop doing things if it's hurting people. Farmers would be out of business if they were poisoning us all with their food crops.

Farmers are in a thankless, vilified and, more than anything, overlooked occupation. I'd like everyone to really think about where they would be if every farmer decided they wanted a job with a desk, no manual labor, A/C, 9-5 hours, health benefits, promotions, raises, and best of all: the ability to leave their work at work. Instead of complaining about the prices of food (which farmers -contrary to popular belief - have ZERO control over) and the chemicals used to grow it, be thankful that there are people out there who are willing to forgo the comforts of a desk job so you can have food year-round.

The Sheriff's Report Strikes Again

I know people might be getting sick of hearing about the Sheriff's Report, but it brings me so much joy that I can't help reposting.

When I moved to this area, I thought the locals were pretty much anti-police. As these "complaints" pile up, however, I'm starting to wonder if maybe the exact opposite is true.

All of these complaints are taken from The Mason County Democrat's 8-19 issue.

8-4, 11:14 pm, Forest City: prowler or something is smacking the house. (Perhaps a tree branch? I love the prowler "or something" is "smacking" the house. I don't imagine too many burglars --or "somethings"--go around smacking the house to alert you of their presence...)

8-5, 9:02 am, Rural Havana: cows on the road. (Does it mean I've lived here too long if cows on the road doesn't seem like a worthwhile issue for the police to handle?)

8-6, 5:54 pm, Rural Easton: report a man walking on the road. (Again...what's the problem?)


These last few I just think are funny.

8-8 10:07 am, Mason City: theft- an ash tray (Looks like we've got a crime spree on our hands, people!)

8-9 at 12:07 am, Rural Topeka: complaint about people talking (Oh no! Not talking! Those felonious bastards!)

8-9 at 5:57 pm, Mason City: Theft of $20, when the subject was confronted about she was chased with a bat (Ben Folds says, give me my money back, you bitch!)

8-10 at 7:24 pm, Mason City: animal complaint- dying squirrel in yard (There are no words.)

Surely the police officers have better things to do than run the gut wagon, right?

Mr. X, With the Paper Towels, In the Bathroom

There's a little mystery going on at Adam's shop this week. I'm not sure I really want to solve it.

We have our annual mid-year meeting w/ the tax man coming up soon, so Bella and I headed over to the shop/office to do some accounting. Apparently Bella got bored while I was working, and headed into the shop bathroom for some fun.

I happened to walk past the bathroom later and saw that her "fun" included attacking the contents of the bathroom trash can. Which, of course, means extra work for me, because you know Adam's not gonna be on his hands and knees cleaning anything!

As I stoop down to pick up the pieces of shredded paper towels, I start to notice that some of the shreds have a strange, brown, kinda gritty smear on them. With the amount of dirt, oil and machine grease coming through that shop, I didn't think much of it at first. But the more prevalent the strangely colored shreds became, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe it wasn't something a little worse than dirt, oil or grease.

To steal from the always-quotable Billy Madison: "It's poop again!"

This realization leaves me with several questions:
1. Who wipes with a paper towel?
2. Who wipes and throws it in the trash can?
3. Who wipes and throws it in the trash can and then doesn't get rid of the trash? I can promise you I have never thrown used toilet paper in a trash can, especially not at someone's home or place of business, but if I did, AND it was an open trash can, you'd better believe I'd be takin out the trash. Gross.

So now that I've cleaned this damn mess up, all I can think about is whodunit.
As far as I can tell there are only 2 suspects (since I know it wasn't me!): Adam and our farm hand. Most likely Adam, because he'd do it and think it was funny, plus our farm hand is a really clean guy. So I straight up asked Adam about it. He had no idea.

The plot thickens.

I still cannot bring myself to suspect our farm hand, it's just not his way, so now I'm stumped. I thought and thought about who else had even been in the office lately.

Then it hit me.

Adam and I have been tearing up the old house's bathroom to prepare for new renters. Since we had to rip EVERYTHING out (save for one cabinet), we had to shut off the water. No water, no toilet. Adam and I haven't done all of this work ourselves, however; we've had help from several people.

Here's what we think happened. Person X was helping out w/ the renovations and needed a bathroom break. Since there was no working toilet at the old house, Adam went to our house and Person X went to the shop. Person X realized, probably a little too late (mid-dump?), that there was a TP shortage, and used the next best thing available: paper towels. (A little PT for some TP, if you will.) Post-wipe, they were probably concerned that the PT would not flush, so they threw it in the trash can. (I'm still trying to imagine that scene. Standing there with a shitty paper towel (SPT) in your hand, contemplating what to do. Talk about a bad day.) Days later, Bella comes in and shreds it up (talk about covering your tracks--or skid marks) and I find the crime scene.

I am NOT down with the S.P.T.
Yeah you know me.

Moral of the story: TP needs to remain the catcher. PT should stay where it belongs: the DL.

Worst product of the month

No. Just no.

https://www.snuggiefordogs.com/flare/next?tag=ossmgotm

Better Late than Never

My favorite highlights from the 8-5 Mason County Democrat's Sheriff's Report:

- 5 complaints about 4-wheelers or golf carts (including one complaining 4 wheelers were being driven on the road. Is that really illegal?)
- 2 complaints about irrigators spraying on the road (how is this any different than rain? and what are the police supposed to do about it?)

And, of course, the randoms:

-7-23, 5:21 pm, Mason City, complaint about juvenile throwing rocks and urinating in the yard

-7-26, 4:59 am, Topeka, theft- gave a lady a ride home in a cab and now the lady can't pay her.
--First of all, who owns a cab service in Topeka? Seriously! If anyone knows, please fill me in. Secondly, if they're not from Topeka, the nearest "city" is Pekin, which's 30 miles away. No wonder the cab driver was pissed off. That's a $50 cab ride!

-7-26, 1:41 pm, San Jose, found a dog that appears to be someone's pet.
--Props to these people for attempting to help this dog, BUT...why would you call the police for a found dog? Either call the pound, the vet, or the no-kill shelter. The cops have crimes to solve. People are so retarded.

-7-26, 8:13 pm, Manito, complaint that there are juveniles at her house drinking and she wants them gone by the time she gets home.
--WTF? How do you know they're there drinking if you're not home? Did your neighbor call you at work or something? Why don't you go home and kick them out yourself? Who are these people anyway? Are they your kids? Seems like calling the police just adds to the problem.

-7-26, 9:11 pm, Manito, theft-stealing corn.
--This is absolutely random. Who steals corn? Seriously. Also, who has the eagle eyes to see people stealing it out of a huge cornfield? Props to whoever those neighbors are!




(All info courtesy of The Mason County Democrat)

The fat lady's aria

The sky has fallen, the end is near.

Adam knew a word I didn't.

It wasn't even related to farming.

We started back on hard core phase 1 of South Beach, as of Monday morning. Monday evening we were in Peoria and trying to figure out where we could eat dinner and have more options than a garden salad. Harder than one might think. White bread is EVERYWHERE!

I was near meltdown status, because everything I wanted included flour, pasta, fries, etc. Finally, I narrowed it down to 2 choices, but could not decide.

Adam said, "Well, you'll get more 'utils' out of the chicken."

I started cracking up. WTF are utils? It sounds like noodles but with a u. Sounds like a made-up word, if you ask me. He proceeded to inform me that they're a unit of measurement regarding enjoyment.

All throughout dinner, I could not focus on anything but this mystery word, which I still didn't believe was actually a word. By the time we got in the car, I had to bust out the blackberry and find out once and for all. Dictionary.com had no listings, but the thesaurus sure did. He was absolutely right.

Unfreakingbelievable.

He thought it was fantastic and decided he would start reading the thesaurus every day just to find a vocab word I don' t know. Ass.

Possible TMI...

This has been on my mind since Sunday, so I'm hoping for some feedback from any of my fantastic readers.

Does anyone else watch Hung (HBO before Entourage)?

Last Sunday's episode got me thinking.

In the episode, the main male character is at the main female character's house, using her tub because his house burnt down. While sitting in her tub, he notices a pink Bic razor sitting on the side of the tub, with a huge clump of trimmed pubes stuck in it.

I get that it was a joke, and was meant to be over the top and make a point about the characters. I get it.

What bothers me is numerous, so I shall make a list:
1. Who uses disposable razors anymore?
2. Who uses disposable razors on their genitals?
3. Wouldn't the higher risk of cutting yourself on those cheap ass crappy disposable razors be enough to keep it away from your legs/face, let alone your crotch?
4. Isn't the point of a disposable razor to DISPOSE of it, after use?

This is the most important question and the one I'm looking for the most response on:
5. Would anyone, man or woman, who did actually use a Bic razor (or ANY razor, for that matter) to do some...landscaping...not clean the damn thing out?

Seriously. Think about it. I'm pretty sure everyone at least rinses the damn thing out after shaving their legs or face...so why would this scenario be any different? Do people actually leave giant clumps of pubes lurking in their razors for unsuspecting bathroom guests to find?

GROSS.