So – what did you do for the last nine days? Me? Nothing, actually.
I did watch the “State of the Union” address, which I didn’t understand. I liked that there was a woman sitting behind the President. I thought that was cool. And I liked that the President introduced her and stuff. Although those other people he introduced seemed kind of “out of place”. I thought the “State of the Union” address was to like address the State that the Union was in – like he should get up there and say “OK guys – we’re all good. Taxes are down, employment is up, real estate is booming, and, except for Malone, New York, where nobody works and everyone is on Welfare, things are looking OK, Thanks very much, see you next year”. I don’t get the whole “Here’s that guy we’re all seeing on the talk show circuit that jumped down onto some subway tracks and saved some other guy.” What the fuck does that have to do with the “State of the Union”? Although it does point up the fact that if you want to get introduced to the House and the Senate, do something right around January, so you’ll still be on the radar. I wonder if “acts of heroism and bravery” go down right after the State of the Union address, since, you know, unless you like save 6,000 people or something, you don’t have a chance of being remembered come “State of the Union” address time next year. I guess it’s the one way for people to understand the whole “don’t release your movie until right before Oscar nominations come out” phenomenon.
I also watched some TV – thankfully, we still had cable throughout our no pone fiasco. I was able to see the two new “Heroes” episodes. Damn, I love “Heroes”. “Lost” had better be *really* good when it comes back, and get those fucking people out of the cages and back onto the island, or else “Heroes” is going to go from “My number 2 show” straight to “My Number one show”. And who do you think Claire’s dad is? I’m thinking it’s Nathan Petrelli – am I right?
I also watched “Top Chef” – I was pissed that Sam got told to pack his knives and go home. That sucked. Tonight is the finale – I don’t really care who wins at this point. But I love the show – even if I can’t cook. I just want to know how they make all those sauces and stuff. I wish they actually showed a lot more of the prep stuff and the ingredients, rather than the soap opera stuff of who’s boosting lychee fruit. And I want to know more about “flavor profiles”. What the hell does that mean? And how do they make everything look so pretty? And do you actually eat those little swipes of sauce on the plate that they surround the food with? Of course, I could never actually *be* a “top Chef” – not only can I not cook, I hate most of the stuff they use to prepare their dishes. Mushrooms and veal and eggplant and offal and asparagus. I could never eat that stuff – even to taste it before serving it. I don’t think I have a “sophisticated” enough palate to be a “Top Chef”, although I can tell the difference between Hostess and Little Debbie snack cakes – so that’s something, I guess.
I also saw on some show that James Brown hasn’t been buried yet. What the hell are they waiting for? The guy died on Christmas Day. I mean, I don’t feel so bad that I haven’t taken my Christmas lights down yet after learning that. That’s just fucking bizarre. And where is the guy? Is he still at the funeral home is some kind of perpetual memorial service? Is he like propped up against a wall somewhere waiting to be stuffed? I mean, the guy’s not fucking Trigger, for Christ’s sake – just bury the guy.
And I need to get an arsonist to come and move in with us for the winter. Maybe then I’d have better luck getting the woodstove started and burning every day. I don’t know what they make forests out of in California, but whatever that wood is that burns so well out there, I need some. And Paul has developed a very unusual and disturbing obsession with the woodstove. It’s frightening and extremely maddening. He now has learned that he has a new excuse – just what he needed, right? Another excuse in his life – for going to bed at 7:00 every night. His new excuse is “I have to get up all night with the woodstove”. Now,
it doesn’t matter that I go to bed at about 3:00 every morning, and he gets up at 5:00 for work. So in all reality, his “all night” of getting up with the woodstove basically boils down to “sometime between 3 and 5, I might have to get up, but only if I wake up, and even that’s not a sure thing.” But it means he can go to bed at 7:00 with a “good excuse”. And once he goes to bed at 7, he wakes up about every couple of hours and yells to me “Have you checked the woodstove?” I swear to God, around midnight when it’s the fifth time he’s yelled it to me, I just want to go in there and shove some fucking wood down his
throat. It’s maddening. And then, God forbid, he can’t start the woodstove once he does get up with it, because then he comes and wakes me up and says “Can you come and start this thing for me?” Which happens about three days out of the week. And then he’ll call at lunchtime from work to ask me how it’s running. Not to call and ask how *I’m* doing – no, he calls to check on the woodstove.
I hate the woodstove. I really do. Next year, it’s “bye bye woodstove, hello big assed oil furnace.”
In other news, the formerly dead lady next door has now taken up permanent residence in the house. We think. The old lady across the street is convinced that the formerly dead lady is hiding from something or someone. The old lady has noticed that there’s no smoke coming from the chimney in the formerly dead lady’s house, that there’s still no electricity and that she’s never seen a food delivery or the formerly dead lady coming home with groceries. And there’s still no mailbox there and the mailman said he’s never delivered mail and that her request to hold the mail had expired without being renewed. But the formerly dead lady has been spotted out in her front driveway “shoveling” snow with a
cardboard box and a broom. The bitch is weird, I’ll give you that. And the dead vines are still in her windows. I asked the old lady across the street “Well, what the hell does she do in there all day?” I mean, does she read? I can donate some books to her. Does she knit? I can give her some yarn. And I’m certain I can scrounge up an extra shovel or two. I’d go over and bring her a plate of cookies or something, but I think she might be dangerous. But, on the positive side, she is the perfect neighbor.
And in the downtime from the phone and the computer I also cut out a new sewing project. I’m making a friend’s little girl some pajamas with fur cuffs. They’re the cutest things. I’m using a pattern, which is unusual for me, usually I make my own patterns. But I saw this pattern and thought it was the cutest thing ever. Here’s a picture of the pattern and the material. Won’t this be darling? Of course I still have Paul’s pajamas to finish before I start sewing the new project. I don’t like to start something new until I finish the last thing. That keeps down my “UFO” pile. And I have to get Paul to try on the
pajamas and then I’ll have to adjust and add the elastic before I am done those. Maybe I’ll try to get him to do that tonight before he goes to bed at 7:00.
Then I have to somehow make Milo some boots. Poor little shit, he hates going outside anymore with the snow. He’ll get
about halfway through his normal “area of sniffing” before he stops dead in his tracks and refuses to move anymore. He’ll hold up each leg on it’s own for a few seconds, before I take pity on him and carry him back into the house. He’s
hating snow and winter. He doesn’t mind the cold so much as the snow. He really needs some boots and I have to figure out how to make him some.
Oh – and one final thing. Did I tell you all that the formerly pregnant thief and her dimwitted boyfriend are moving? They are moving to somewhere in central New York, as far as I can tell. Somewhere down by Utica – wherever the hell that is. Supposedly, and this just comes through the grapevine, they went out New Year’s Eve and she “lost” her money. Which meant that they couldn’t pay the rent
on the first, which meant that the landlord kicked them out. Which isn’t too unbelievable, around here there’s no such thing as a “formal and legal”
eviction, I guess the landlord can just say “Be Gone Bad Renters!” and somehow, you have to leave or risk having your shit thrown on the sidewalk the following first of the month. Or at least that’s what the Formerly Pregnant Thief and the dimwitted boyfriend believe, which, to the landlord, is probably just as effective as a formal and legal eviction. So, they are moving in with her grandmother. Which is just what I want, when I have an 18 year old granddaughter with 2 kids under 3 years old – for them to move in with me. Good luck to Granny, bless her heart. And if you are the manager of the Wal Mart “somewhere near Utica” -you might want to take another look at her picture and post it in the Rogue’s Gallery at the store. Because sooner or later, she’ll be there.
So, that’s basically everything that happened this week. No, the sink didn’t get fixed, we are still waterless in the kitchen. Which goes without saying, since Paul has to go to bed so early every night, what with the pressing needs of the woodstove. At least that’s *his* excuse.