It Was A Dark and Stormy Night...

It's monsoon here in the valley of the sun.  Yay for the monsoon!  So far this week we've had two really nice storms come through and dump a good amount of water on our exceedingly dry, scorched earth.  Although gutters are still a little ways off, I was able to collect about thirty gallons of water just in buckets from yesterday's downpour.  And it was a downpour...

The worst of yesterday's storm occurred in the late evening.  Just in time for me to go over to my parent's house to take care of their two dogs for the last time before they went to bed for the night.  I was hoping for a reprieve from the rain at least long enough to run the dogs out, but I was denied this basic request.  When I pulled up in the driveway, the rain was fairly light.  By the time I walked in the house, locked the door behind myself, got the first dog out and opened the back door it had increased tenfold.

The first dog I took out was Desi, who apparently had a clue last night.  He stepped out into the rain, realized it sucked and hurried up with his business.  We were out there less than a minute.  Good boy Desi!

The second dog was Lucy, who had a different take on the rain.  She stepped out into the rain, looked like she realized it sucked....and then blinked a lot.  She stood there, blinking in the rain, for eternity.  I tried encouraging her to "hurry up!" but she seemed more concerned with running in circles on her leash and blinking.  Five minutes later she finally decided that she should probably take care of business and get out of the rain.  Not so good girl Lucy (frowny face).

With both dogs back inside, I headed out to put my chickens up for the night.  The girls were pretty much sleeping on their roost when I walked out anyway so it was just a matter of shutting them in the coop.  As I was moving the rock that holds the door open a huge flash of lightning lit up the entire area.  And I realized that I was standing in a ten by twenty metal cage that surrounds the largest tree on the property.  And I'm standing in water.  Yay me!

I head back to the house and lock everything up for the night.  At this point I'm pretty wet, but not completely soaked to the skin and all I have to do is get to the Jeep.  Except as I'm locking the front door I realize that it's Tuesday.  And garbage pickup is really early Wednesday morning.  Which means I have to put the garbage and recycling cans out tonight.  The cans that are currently in the backyard.  Ugh! 

I stand there for a second to try and think things through.  Now I realize pretty quickly that the very first thing I need to do is get my gun into the vehicle so I don't accidentally drop it in a mud puddle (not that it would hurt it as it's a revolver, but still).  In case you're wondering why I feel the need to carry a weapon to my parent's house, I've been taking it with me on the last run over at night because my folks live out where there is open desert backing to their property.  At night is when the predators come out and for sure we know there are coyotes and bobcats out there.  I've heard and seen the coyotes myself and at least one of the close neighbors has had a bobcat attack her dog on the back patio.  And lets face it, if I get confronted by some wild animal I am 100% sure that neither of those dogs is going to defend me.  A best case scenario is if I can hang on to the leash long enough to get dragged back to the house as they're running in fear.  So anyway, the gun needs to get to the dry interior of the Jeep before I go about my last task.  And then I need to get the cans from the backyard to the street.  Well, nothing to do except start I guess...

I push the unlock button and run to the driveway.  Toss my gun into the passenger seat and slam the door shut.  Then I really start moving.  From where I'm at, it's about forty feet to the back gate, it doesn't take long to get there but once I do, the latch decides this is a fantastic time to get clingy.  It takes me more than few seconds to get the gate open.  After it finally gives in, I fling the gate open but before I can get the cans, I must remove the barricade that my dad has put there to keep the rabbits out of his yard.  With a clear path finally available, I grab the first can, drag it through the gate and then leave it a few feet beyond.  I repeat the procedure with the second can.  After I have both cans out, I shut the gate, grab one can's handle in each hand and start moving towards the street.

By this time the rain is coming down in torrents, I can barely see five feet in front of me.  And the street is at least 100 feet away.  So I start running as fast as I can.  Which, considering I'm wearing a pair of Tevas, dragging two huge garbage cans and sliding around in the water, isn't very fast.  And then I hit the end of the driveway.  Did I mention that my folk's driveway ends?  It does.  Rather abruptly when you can't see I might add.  So then I'm not so much running as scrambling through the muddy mess in my Tevas, dragging my now even more cumbersome huge garbage cans whose wheels apparently don't like mud at all.  And I still can't see.  And the rain is actually coming down harder.

Eventually I find what I believe to be "close enough" that the garbage trucks can pick up in the morning.  But I can't just drop the cans and run, because they are backwards to the street.  They need to face the street in order to get emptied.  I grab the garbage can first and by half dragging, half rolling it I am able to get it somewhat pointing in the correct direction.  But now it's too far back from the road.  So I tilt it back on it's wheels in order to push it forward.  And that's when  gust of wind comes up and lifts the lid, rather rapidly, and slams it directly into my face.  I have to say here that while my reaction time is generally pretty good, it slows substantially when the same wind that blew the lid into my face is busy holding it there.  It was a good ten seconds before I could peel that stupid lid off my face and force it down onto the can where it belonged.  Thankfully the recycling can didn't give me as much trouble and I'm soon on my way back to the driveway and the relative comfort of my Jeep.

By the time I get there I am soaked completely to the skin.  My hair is completely drenched and hanging in my face.  My jeans and shirt are stuck to me like glue.  And I'm having trouble seeing because my eyebrows and lashes have five gallons of water each in them that's now streaming into my eyes.  Oh and the window is fogging over.  Perfect.

So I blast the heat (yeah, it's August in Phoenix, it's all good) and head home.  I would really like to drive faster than ten miles an hour but unfortunately the roads suck big time.  The dirt and gravel roads are like a mud bog, but the paved roads are actually worse because there are huge puddles across most of them.  At first I was like "Hell, I drive a Jeep!  Jeeps are meant to drive through puddles!  Screw you puddles, I'm driving a Jeep!"  This was quickly followed by "What the hell?  I can't see a damn thing when the water comes crashing over my windshield!"  So yeah, that worked out well.  Ten miles an hour it is.  Eventually I arrived home, dripping wet and looking like a drowned rat.  I give Mister C credit for holding it together when he got a look at me.  But I don't kid myself, I could totally see the grin he was holding back and the gleam in his eyes. 

So that's the story of the monsoon in Arizona.  And it's supposed to rain again tonight and tomorrow again as well.  Hopefully not until after I get home from taking care of the dogs.  But that would require some sort of good luck that I seem to be lacking in.

Marked Woman

I need a less conspicuous vehicle, my Jeep is too easily identified.  Also, the drop off and pick up procedure at Master J's school completely sucks.  Big time.

On day one at the new school, I did what I have done for the past five years on school mornings, I tried to drop my child off at school.  For five years I have driven up, kicked my child at the curb and then continued on through to the exit.  For five years I have never had an issue with this.   The new school does not allow this.  The new school insists that you drive all the way to the end of the parking lot and ONLY drop your child in an area about ten feet long.  I did not know this.  So I pull up in line, kick my child out at the curb and try to continue driving only to see a lady running towards me frantically.  I roll down my window and she explains that I'm not allowed to drop my child off there, that I must instead drive way the eff down to the other end.  Okay, whatever, I'll do my best to follow the rules.  That's strike one.

On day one after school, I park in the parking zone and get out to wait for my child.  No problems.  On day two, I drop him off in the proper place in the morning and don't get in trouble.  After school I park in the parking zone and get out to go wait for my child.  No problem.  On day three, which was Friday, I drop him off with no issues.  After school, I park in the parking zone to wait for my child.  I see him coming towards me and then he disappears.  My thermometer is registering 118 degrees so I opt to wait in my car until I see him at the curb, with the intention of getting out of my vehicle to get him as soon as I see him.  I don't see him.  Ten minutes goes by and I'm still waiting.  Where the hell is my kid?  Another five minutes pass.  And then I see the principal making her way over to my car.  Uh oh, now what did Master J do?  Turns out, nothing.  One of the teachers saw him and sent him to wait at the end of the parking lot.  Why?  Because they assumed (incorrectly) that my intention was to wait in my car and allow my child to cross three lanes of cars to get into mine.  Um, no.  I was waiting until I saw him to get out of my car because it's miserable degrees out right now.  So now my child has been waiting at the end of the parking lot in the sun and heat for fifteen minutes.  Awesome.  That's strike two.

This morning I dropped Master J off at the end of the parking lot just like I was supposed to.  I had told him on Friday that if he didn't see my car parked, he was to go to the end of the parking lot so I could pick him up.  After school today I pulled into the lot about a minute after the bell rang.  I saw him standing on the curb but knew I would not be able to pick him up there so I rolled down my window and told him to go to the end and I would pick him up.  When I looked up from telling him this, I could see both of the parking demons at the end of the lot staring at me.  Obviously they were waiting to pounce on me should I make the tragic error of picking up my child from the wrong location.  I drove on through, under surveillance. 

At the end of the lot there was a traffic jam with about five cars parked along the "correct" curb and another two in front of me waiting to get there.  Master J was standing next to another child at the end.  The parents in the two cars ahead of me waved their children to them.  One of them was the kid standing next to Master J, so I also waved Master J over.  As the children were getting into the cars in front of me, and Master J was getting into my car, the parking police ran over and opened my front door to tell me that he couldn't get into my car there.  The reason?  Because there was a garbage can nearby and that was "gross".  I'm not even kidding.  And that's strike three.

I'm officially going to be a marked woman for the rest of the year.  You know damn well that every time I pull into that lot they're going to be watching me and waiting for me to make one wrong move.  And then they will pounce.  Folks, I am nothing if not a law abiding citizen.  I don't go out of my way to break the rules or cause problems, especially at my child's school.  But seriously, if you're going to let kids get into two cars in front of me, but get after me because my child is five feet closer to the garbage can, I'm going to have an issue.  And I'm going to start pushing the limits of rules to the very edge.  See ya tomorrow!

The Garden of Impending Doom

We have several gardens that we put together last fall and planted this spring.  Prior to our vacation in July, the gardens were producing beautifully on a daily basis.  At least as far as the cherry tomatoes go.  Those things were crazy prolific.  I'm talking three or four dozen tomatoes every day.  And they were awesome.  I don't know about you but I've never thought store bought tomatoes were all that great.  They're okay, but they're fairly nondescript.  But these things were downright spicy (comparatively speaking).  Long story short, Mister C was thrilled with his daily allotment of cherry tomatoes and I was eating them every time I walked through the kitchen (which is apparently a lot since my weight loss is at a standstill, but that's another story.) 

Anyway, other than the cherry tomatoes, the only other pre-vacation producers were the cantaloupe and watermelon plants and there were just a few of those.  The strawberries had been fairly choked out by the cantaloupe vines from hell by this point.  The red and green pepper plants were about three feet tall and had several small peppers on each plant.  The day before we left on vacation I had decided to pick the sole cucumber even thought I didn't think it was quite ripe.  My assumption being that since we were going to be gone for nine days it would go to waste if I didn't pick it.  It was actually pretty good, although fairly small.

Upon returning from vacation, the first thing I did was head to the garden to see what remained.  I gleaned several dozen cherry tomatoes, two cantaloupe and several watermelons.  The peppers weren't doing well at all, most of the fruit had rotted on the plant.  There were also several cucumbers.  Or at least what were supposed to be cucumbers. 

Instead of the cucumbers being a nice, dark green and of reasonable size, they were huge, yellow, slug-like things.  I'm not even kidding, I was looking at those things trying to figure out where their eyes were.  They were downright horrifying.  So I pulled them off the vine and brought them into the house for an autopsy. 

I've been watching a lot of "Dr. G, Medical Examiner" on the Discovery channel and I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing here.  So I take my alien cucumber and I make the classic Y incision in it's...chest...in anticipation of figuring out what went wrong with the little bastard.  Instead of nice, firm, cucumber flesh, I have mushville (it's a word.)  An "off" scent came rolling off the deceased (I can only assume the cucumber was using some sort of illegal fertilizer) almost knocking me off my feet.  And then my beautiful Y incision kind of collapsed on itself due to the mush factor.  I'll be honest, I didn't see a need to continue the autopsy at this point since the end result was that this particular vegetable was uneatable (and that actually is a word.)  So, into the compost it went.

We've now been home for just over three weeks.  I've pulled a few more cantaloupes and watermelons off the vines and they've been awesome.  Nothing else seems to be producing right now (no berries, no grapes.)  The cantaloupe plants current have a half dozen more melons getting ripe which is great, although their vines have gotten much more aggressive.  Several of the vines are aiming for the air conditioner (it has been consistently over 100 degrees lately) and one pioneering vine has made it's way over to steal nutrients from my orange tree.  But that's not all...

This morning I went out to see if anything was available and after picking another dozen cherry tomatoes, I thought I would check to see if any new cucumbers have shown up.  They have...

Thank goodness we have them caged!

Speaking of the Jeep...

So there I was, minding my own business....

I took my dad over to the airport this morning so he could fly back out to the east coast for work.  Not that he was doing a whole lot a home anyway since my Mom is out of town already, but it's still kind of sad to have to fly for work on Father's Day.  But I digress...

Pretty much as soon as we hit the highway after I picked him up my gas light came on.  I knew it was low since Mister C and Master J had just gotten back from their camping trip late last night and hadn't filled the tank.  But I thought I had enough to get me there and back before the light came on.  Since I was kind of on a tight schedule, having arrived about ten minutes late to pick my dad up in the first place, I decided to get him to the airport and then stop for gas on the way back home.  But of course, once I dropped him off I knew I didn't want to get the gas right away since it's always more expensive the closer to the airport you are.  So I drove a little further down the road.  I finally saw a station that I figured was far enough away to have reasonable prices and stopped in.  This is not the interesting part of the story in case you're wondering.  No, that's the part that's next.

After I filled up I got back on the highway and continued driving towards home.  I was in the right hand lane, there was a beat up pickup truck in the middle lane in front of me, another car in the middle lane just slightly behind me and an on ramp on my right with traffic.  Up ahead, I see a huge tire tread, the kind that fall off of semi trucks on a regular basis, laying on the right side of the middle lane.  I'm thinking that it's certainly avoidable.  After all, the guy in the pickup has nobody on his left and the tire is all the way to the right side of the lane.  But no, he still proceeds dead ahead and manages to hit the tread at about 75 mph.  Which flings the tire tread up in the air and in a direct path for me.

In horrified slow motion I watch as the tread arcs towards me.  With cars on either side of me, I have nowhere to go but straight ahead.  I briefly debate slamming on my brakes but the thought occurs that maybe, just maybe it's trajectory is actually slightly over my roof.  I've been driving Mister C's Honda Civic all week.  It's low to the ground, I have clearance between my head and the tire in it.  Annnnd I'm not in that car.  I'm in my Jeep for the first time in ten days.  There's a whole lot more height in this vehicle and unfortunately for me, the trajectory of that tire tread is straight into my windshield.  

With a huge BOOM! the tread hits my windshield and goes flying over the roof.  The windshield is instantly a spiderweb of shattered glass with a basketball sized area punched in behind and just to the right of where the rear view mirror hangs.  The mirror that is now pointing at my lap.  My gps holder lands on the dashboard.  The passenger seat visor slams into the passenger door and bounces back halfway.  And tiny shards of glass rain down in my car.

And the beat up pickup truck continues on like nothing happened.  Asshat.

I immediately headed for the next exit, I had only been on the freeway for less than two miles when this happened.  As soon as I was at a stoplight, I phoned Mister C to let him know the good news of the day.  And then I drove on the surface streets all the way home to assess the damage.  

Broken windshield - check

Dented frame around windshield - check

Sadness reigning supreme - check and check

 A view from the inside....

And hey, I thought this was kind of pretty.  In a warped, sad, wtf kind of way...

And finally, it should be noted that usually Jeeps end up getting beat up on some off road trail, climbing rocks or crossing rivers.  There's no glory in getting a tire tread slammed into you at 75 mph on the highway.  Just sayin'.

Skipping Gratitude, Going Straight To Greed

The three cats spent the first hour of their day today winding around our legs and running from the kitchen to the laundry room yowling at us. Eventually one of us (okay, it was Mister C) figured out that they had no food left. And there was no food in the pantry because I had run out last week. So, while Master J was showering I hopped in my car and headed over to Walmart to stock up and shut up the frenzied felines.

I've said before that I don't love this store. I think it mistreats it's employees and sells way too much cheap, foreign crap. But I digress. The main thing is that when I walked in the door I was greeted with full Christmas regalia. A huge decorated tree was by the door and the ten aisles that a few days ago were stocking candy and costumes were now loaded with Christmas candy and decor.

Are you kidding me? What happened to celebrating Thanksgiving? What the hell Walmart? Just. What. The. Hell.

Moving right along

So some time back in June, I managed to con Mister C into letting me get another fish tank. I promised I would finish painting the family room in a timely manner and then get the tank. Not long after that, I went out "Just to price out new tanks" and ended up with a new one later that afternoon. Because that's how it works around here.

It sat, wrapped in cardboard and plastic, for a few weeks before we went on vacation. The family room didn't get painted before we went on vacation. When we got back from vacation I finally got around to painting the ceilings in the family room & kitchen and swore I would get right to painting the walls. But between taking Master J to swim lessons every day, running around getting him registered for school and a sudden influx of real estate work, that didn't happen either.

Two days ago I finally started painting the family room. I managed to wash the baseboards and tape off the whole room and even painted one wall.

Yesterday I painted the other two walls in the room, as well as one wall in the kitchen. When I was done, I got my fish tank set exactly where I wanted it and filled it almost full to make sure I didn't have any leaks. As of this morning, I didn't.

Today, I tried to set up my brand new filter in the cabinet under my brand new tank. It didn't fit. It was too tall. What the hell? How can they sell an aquarium stand that won't hold the filter for the fish tank? So I improvised. I emptied the water out of the tank, giving my trees some extra rations this week. Then I moved it another two inches away from the wall so the filter could sit behind it. It worked like a charm.

Feeling rather pleased with the solution of my problem, I went about getting the filter set up in the tank and getting it going. I've had this type of filter on my original tank for about eight years now and I know they can be a bit cranky to start the first time (or any time you take it apart and reassemble it for that matter.) After pitching several fits and cursing loudly, I still couldn't get it going. Until, it finally, sort of, started sucking water. But it just couldn't seem to get going very well. I felt the hoses to make sure water was flowing in both intake and output. The intake definitely had flow, the hose with the output didn't though. I followed it up from the bottom towards the top of the tank, and that is when I noticed that the stupid hose had a leak. After calling around to several stores that either don't carry the hose or have it for too much money, I realize I'm going to have to call the company directly and hopefully they'll just ship me a new one. Which means I have to wait at least a few more days before I can get my tank going. And that doesn't make me feel all peaceful and happy like an aquarium should.

Post #500

And I'm suffering from writer's block. Can you believe that crap? I, who almost never run out of things to say, am at a loss for words. I thought this milestone would be more momentous, have more oomph. Or something. Instead, I will thrill you with an update post.

1. Real estate is picking up, but not in a good way. There are multiple offers on every house my clients want. Good houses go under contract almost before they're on the market for twenty-four hours. Buyers are still working with how the market used to be (about two months ago) and thinking they can low-ball offers and get their dream home. They might be right on properties that need work but the ones that are move in ready are going for well over asking price. Sigh.

2. I finally, just five minutes ago, finished painting my kitchen ceiling. As soon as I post this and grab a bite to eat, I'll be starting on the family room walls. Painting, the bane of my existence.

3. My child got accepted into the "gifted academy" in our local district. He would have to change schools in order to attend. Even though we weren't looking forward to him changing schools, we were very excited about him getting accepted. Until his new teacher sent out her welcome letter. When I saw what her curriculum for the school year was going to be, it seemed a little familiar. So I asked Master J. Yeah, he learned all of the things she mentioned (specifically the math) last year in his normal fourth grade. I'm going to speak with his current school about what their curriculum is for this coming year and if it's what I think it is, he'll be staying where he's at.

4. Remember the HOA issuing the "you have to wait 30 days for us to approve the thing we can't disapprove" letter? So that letter arrived on a Saturday. Mister C contacted our solar guy on Sunday and asked him to hold off on finishing up the project until we had approval. On Monday we got a another letter from the HOA saying "Go ahead with your project that we can't disapprove, we give you permission." Can't tell you how thrilled Mister C was to have to call back the solar guys and be told that they can't come back for a week because they started another project. If it weren't for causing unnecessary setbacks and delays our HOA wouldn't have anything to do.

5. Picked up my Bountiful Baskets again this morning and it seemed a little short. It's supposed to consist of six different fruits and six different vegetables each week. This week's basket contained:

1 5 lb bag of potatoes
1 head of cabbage
1 butternut squash
1 head of romaine
2 bags of green beans
2 tomatoes

4 bananas
1 bunch of grapes
6 peaches
4 plums
1 cantaloupe

So unless I'm counting wrong, that's six vegetables and five fruits. Unless they're questionable about the tomatoes and are counting one of them as a vegetable and the other as a fruit. Then I'm good. It's still at good deal to get all of that for $16.50, especially since it's all fresh and most of it's local.

HOA Red Tape

So Mister C and I made the leap to getting a whole house solar system installed. We live in Sunshineville where there's about three hundred and sixty days of sunshine a year. Solar just makes sense.

A few years ago our state passed a law stating that HOAs could not interfere with the installation of a solar system. Effectively, they couldn't say that any homeowner couldn't install one, regardless of what their CC&Rs stated. It did say they could have some "reasonable rules regarding the placement of a solar energy device if those rules do not prevent the installation, impair the functioning of the device or restrict its use or adversely affect the cost or efficiency of the device."

The guy doing the install did have to send the HOA a request for permission to do the install but this is really just a formality and most HOAs just send out a "go ahead" notice the same day they get the request. Because at the end of the day they can't legally stop people from installing a solar system.

On Friday, the roofers arrived at five in the morning and started removing the roof tiles to set the posts that will ultimately support the framework for our panels. We are so excited about getting this done because not only is it an environmentally good thing to do but it should save us quite a bit of money over the long term.

Yesterday we got a letter from the HOA telling us that they were sending the request on to the architectural committee to get their input. It would be at least thirty days before they would even consider giving us approval. Additionally, they made sure to tack on that if we started doing anything prior to getting that approval, they would force us to undo what we had done and fine us on top of it.

Are you kidding me?

An Open Letter

Dear Every Damn Store Whose Website I Have Looked At In The Last Week,

Wow, you sure have some great sites out there! I can't keep track of all the great things you've got going on. There's information about the history of your particular store as well as an entire company history. You've got links for how to have a career at your wonderful store and even how to get in on a franchise opportunity. For you stores that serve food, you give a link to full menus and even an entire breakdown of the nutritional value of every item on the menu. For clothing stores, I can now figure out every item you sell and in what sizes and colors you sell it in. You've been sure to mention your latest sales. You even offer a place to rate your store. But there is one kind of important piece of information that you've forgotten to provide in the vast abyss of information you offer? Not one link leads to this information. Not one little sidebar mentions this very important piece of information. What time do you open your doors?

Sincerely,

The Woman Who Didn't Shop Today Because She Didn't Want To Waste Her Time Driving To A Store That Might Be Closed

Just another Saturday Night

For once it wasn't me, I wasn't even in the same room at the time. Well I guess technically our family room is open to the kitchen, so it could be construed as one room. But I was on the couch and it happened in the kitchen. And I wasn't involved in the incident.

So let's back up a month or so to when Mister C most recently hiked into then out of the Grand Canyon with friends over a five day period. He does that periodically, usually with no major issues. This time when he came out, he had the two black toenails. I know, gross, I'm with you. Believe me, for someone with a "foot issue" like me, it was ten times beyond gross edging into horrifying territory. But I digress. For whatever reason the toenails on his big toes were damaged and looked pretty bad. We thought for sure they were going to fall off at some point but they never did. They just hung in there looking gross and making me gag whenever I accidentally glanced at them.

Fast forward to last night. Mister C had been kind enough to pick up Chipotle on his way home from shopping and we were all getting ready to watch the latest Harry Potter together. Master J and I were in the family room starting to enjoy our meals and Mister C was poking around in the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him open the fridge door. Suddenly there was the sound of something hitting the shelf in the fridge and a loud yell, followed by a weird "THUD!" sound. Mister C started saying something about something hitting his toe and what a mess. I jumped up to see what the heck was going on because from where I was sitting, the recliner was blocking most my view. As I came around the recliner I saw a bottle of O'Doul's laying on it's side on the tile pouring out near-beer. Mister C was still standing in the open door to the fridge, holding his foot up and looking horrified. And when I looked up, I saw beer coming off my ceiling, running down the upper cabinets, hitting the counter top, running down the lower cabinets and pooling on the floor. It was also splattered all over my fridge, my cell phone and my camera case. Thank goodness the camera itself was protected. By the time I had taken all of this in, Mister C had hopped over to the nearest seat and was holding a wad of paper towels to his toe. The paper towels were very bloody and there was blood on the floor. What the hell?

Eventually we sorted out that Mister C had somehow lost his grip on his O'Doul's, which had bounced down the shelves in the fridge and headed for the tile. In his one moment of trying to save the situation, he attempted to stop the descent of the bottle with his foot. The bottle had hit his toe with enough force to pop the already wounded toenail almost completely off (GAG! BLECH! HACK!) It had then proceeded to hit the floor anyway which was the loud thud I had heard. The force of hitting the floor on the bottom of the bottle after being shaken up on the way down had built up enough pressure in the bottle to dislodge the twist top lid off and shoot the contents up onto my ceiling before the bottle shot to the side, spewing liquid everywhere as it rolled to a stop near the dining room.

Figuring there's no point in crying over spilled near-beer and bloody toes, I started cleaning up the beer. Starting at the ceiling and working my way down, I got it all cleaned up in about twenty minutes while Mister C continued trying to staunch the bleeding of his wounded toe. Once the mess was cleaned up, I patched up his toe the best I could. The toenail was still held on by enough at the base that it still wouldn't be coming off, but obviously we couldn't leave his toe exposed to the elements and needed to stop the bleeding. Also, I don't think I could stomach seeing it in that condition. So I got it wrapped up and we moved on with our evening.

So what have we learned here? For starters, O'Doul's bottles are amazingly resilient. Honestly I would have totally expected any glass bottle falling off the top shelf of the fridge to shatter when it hit the floor. I'm impressed that it didn't break and it sure made cleaning up a whole lot easier. Secondly, it's amazing how far reaching the liquid in a dropped bottle can spatter. Seriously, amazing. Third, dogs like the taste of beer (which I knew) as do some cats (which I did not know.) Fourth, the lid that got shot off will not be found near the fridge where everything started nor near the final resting place of the bottle but somewhere totally unexpected. And lastly, if you think feet and toes in general are kind of gross, just know that they do not improve when the toenails are standing almost straight up and blood is pouring out.

Game show time

Alex: Well here we are on the set of Jeopardy and we are ready to start. Mirth, since you lost the last round, we'll let you start this one. Choose a category.

Mirth: Thanks Alex! You don't know how excited I am to be here. I think I'll start off with "Seriously? WTH?" for $100.

Alex: Okay Mirth, here you go...These people tend to cover the entire back side of their vehicles with religious stickers, especially ones saying things like "WWJD?" and "Do unto others"

Mirth: Who are the people most likely to cut me off in the line at school pickup?

Alex: That's right! Mirth, choose again.

Mirth: I'd like "Seriously? WTH?" for $250.

Alex: This large bank has a particularly bad habit of changing their minds at the last moment, causing heartbreak and headache for people trying to buy a home.

Mirth: Who is Bank of America?

Alex: Right again! Go ahead Mirth.

Mirth: I'm going to stick with what's working Alex. I'm going to go with "Seriously? WTH?" for $500.

Alex: Sounds good! Here's the clue...This is the only spot in the yard that has been painstakingly planted with beautiful flowers.

Mirth: Where is my dog most likely to dig?

Alex: Awesome! You're on a roll! Next category!

Mirth: Well, again, I'm just going to stick with what I know Alex. So, "Seriously? WTH?" for $1000 please.

Lots of bells and whistles go off.

Alex: Looks like you've hit the daily double! And this one is a picture...



Mirth (looking closely): Hmmm...what did my dog eat last night and then throw up at 5:30 this morning?

Alex: Great job Mirth! You got it! Looks like we've got a sweep this round. Stay close, we'll be right back with even more great categories!
(turning to Mirth) Is your dog really so dumb that she ate a bunch of rocks?

Mirth: Yeah Alex, she really is that dumb. Oh wait, was that supposed to be in the form of a question?

This will help our image issues here in Arizona

Sheesh.

Baja Arizona

Because what we really need right now is to divide ourselves into two separate states to help bring us all together.

Well okay, I'm game, but Baja Arizona has to keep (and support) all the illegal immigrants. You are welcome to keep the AHCCCS completely funded as well (although I'm not sure where you're going to get the money to keep it going.) It's not that I think people don't need health care, because they do, but when you're going broke you need to cut back wherever you can. You folks in Baja Arizona probably need to get ready for a property tax rate hike to help pay for all of that.

Arizona proper will gladly take the legal immigrants who want to become a part of American society. We'll keep our legal right to carry arms. And our low property taxes as well.

Also, could you guys take Scott Bundgaard? That would be awesome.

Like we need more negative press...

Evidently the Associated Press printed an article wherein they stated that "70% of the homes in Phoenix are at risk of foreclosure." I'm sure there were lots of exclamation points to be had. They attributed this "fact" to ARMLS (the Arizona Regional Multiple Listing Service). Unfortunately for the original writers of this apparently now viral piece, this "fact" is totally untrue.

The writers pulled this information from a publication that ARMLS publishes monthly. The original statistic was that distressed properties accounted for 70.2% of sales, in January only.

So...

Of the 6,541 sales in January, 70.2% (or 4,591) of them were "distressed", which is to say either closed short sales or lender owned properties. While that's a huge number, it's certainly not the much more headline stealing "70% OF PHOENIX HOMES AT RISK OF FORECLOSURE!!!!!!" bullshit that the AP put out.

I don't have an exact count of how many houses there are in Phoenix since the Bureau of Census hasn't yet released Arizona numbers to give me at least an updated idea of population, but I'm fairly certain that with a last known population of over 4.5 million, there have to be at least a million homes. Based on that, if we take the 70% attributed by the AP, we're looking at about 700,000 homes at risk of foreclosure. Seriously? If they had taken the time to do that simple bit of guestimate math themselves, maybe they would have realized how totally out of whack the number was. Maybe.

I can't decide if the writers intentionally misinterpreted the numbers to sell more news or if they're really so stupid they can't read a statistic properly. Unfortunately I am inclined to think it's the latter.

I won't sugarcoat it and say it's all fantastic and things are back to normal around here because they aren't. There are still a large number of pending foreclosures out there (40,461 to be exact). But that's down from last month's number of 41,485. And it's dropped a full 20% from the high of 50,568 in November of 2009. It's been steadily declining for fourteen months. It is getting better, it's just taking a lot more time than we thought it would. And it isn't being helped by the number of people doing "strategic defaults" wherein they decide to walk away not because they have but because they want to. And that's a whole different post for another day.

Why facial products should never change.

I won't be offended if the few menfolk that read this disengage right about...now.

For as far back as I can remember, I've always had sensitive skin. I can't wear jewelery or watches (lucky Mister C!). I can't wear most makeup, although I won't go out in public without my lipstick. And I really have to watch what kind of moisturizer I use. So when my family was looking for ideas for Christmas, I sent them a link to the exact moisturizer I have used for years. And when I opened it up at Christmas, I was very happy.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago when I had finally opened the box up to start using my favorite moisturizer. When I pulled it out of the box I thought "Hmmmm, they changed the packaging." I wasn't too concerned as I know that most companies change their packaging periodically. So I started using it.

A few days later I noticed some minor breaking out. Considering that I had just started night class and my in-laws were still in town, I figured I might be a little stressed out and didn't worry too much about it. A few days after that, I noticed when I put my moisturizer on that it kind of felt like it was burning as I was applying it. I figured my skin must be really dry and again, didn't worry too much about it.

About five days ago I looked in the mirror in the morning and thought "Hmmm, what the hell? Why am I covered in acne?" It did not occur to me at the time that it was a reaction to anything since I hadn't used the moisturizer the night before. I didn't realize that a contact dermatitis can take up to 48 hours to appear.

But anyway, I thought I had acne so I went over to the pharmacy and picked up some Cetaphil and a cleanser with benzoyl peroxide in it and started using them that night. I alternated between the two products, using one at night and one in the morning. I did this for two days, hoping to see good results rapidly.

But guess what? When you have an allergic reaction to a product and then you add on a harsher product (the benzoyl peroxide) it makes the problem much, much worse. I mean REALLY worse. Like, scare small children worse. Let me put it this way, when I went back to the pharmacy today to pick up some cortisone cream and benadryl I took the cream up to the counter and the following conversation ensued...

Mirth: Hey, will this cortisone cream help with this reaction I'm having?
Young Man behind counter: What are you reacting to?
Mirth: A moisturizer.
Young Man: It should, but hang on and let me ask the pharmacist to make sure.
He then walks further behind the counter to where the pharmacist is.
Young Man: Hey, will this cream help this woman with an allergic reaction? She's reacting to a moisturizer she used.
Pharmacist: Yes, it should.
At the point, the pharmacist starts walking toward me while reading the box and looks up mid-sentence.
Pharmacist: Yes, this should work for your...OH! You really DO have a reaction don't you? Wow. (At this point, she has completely stopped in her tracks and is looking at my face.)
Mirth: Yes. Yes I do. So this will work?
Pharmacist (pausing while staring) Yeeeeesss, but you might want to take some Benadryl as well. Yes, I would take the Benadryl and use the lotion. But if that (oh my goodness, my face is a "that"?) doesn't get any better you need to go to a doctor. That must be so painful. Does it itch?
Mirth: Yep. It's driving me nuts.
Pharmacist: Wow (big pause). Yes, take the Benadryl for sure, that's going to make the most noticeable difference the quickest. But no driving because it can make you sleepy.
Mirth: Thanks. I'll just take my Quasimodo self over to the aisle where the Benadryl is.
Pharmacist: Yes, do. Good luck with that.

I think it's safe to say that it might be a tad noticeable. And also, kudos to the young man for looking me in the eye and not reacting at all to my swollen, red rashy face. And don't worry about me driving under the influence, I'll be trying to avoid going out in public for a few days until I stop scaring small children. It probably doesn't help that every time someone does a double take I want to throw my hand up and shout "Do not look upon me! I Am NOT an animal!" So far, I have resisted. But there's not guarantees for tomorrow.

Boca Raton Radio Call In

If this isn't a joke, I think we've found the problem...

Click here to listen to Jo

From what I can tell, this is from a radio call in show with Michael Savage and it was from last May or June. If it's real (and it wouldn't surprise me if it was), we have done one helluva pathetic job in educating the masses about how government works. I'm really hoping it's a joke because in that case, it's hilarious.

Tucson Shooting

My thoughts and prayers go out to the family and friends of all of the victims of today's violence in Tucson. For the six people that were killed, including a federal judge and a nine year old girl, my heart breaks. For the thirteen wounded, including Congresswoman Giffords, I pray you have a quick recovery.

No new job yet

So I got my "Hey thanks for trying but we'd rather not" note from the company I did a phone interview with last Wednesday. It doesn't really surprise me. I suspect it might have been the long pause after one particular question that did me in. What question you ask?

Interviewer: What intrigued you about the position to be a claims representative?
Mirth: ...........?????

Call it my Jan Brewer moment if you will. I just couldn't wrap my mind around her using that particular word in that sentence. It's not that I didn't understand the meaning of the word or anything like that. It's just that there are very few reasons to use that word in a job interview, at least not in a question. It would be more appropriate to use the word when asking the interviewee to clarify something on their resume.

For example...

"Mirth, I see here that you used to work as a shoeless, bar tending, speed reader in a Texas brothel. That sounds intriguing, tell me more about that."

Honestly though, the question caught me totally off guard. I was prepared for a lot of questions, but throwing the word "intrigued" in relationship to a job as a phone representative is a bit unfair. Mister C hates when I refer to jobs like this as glorified phone sex, but I think it's fairly accurate.

So the answer to the question is really, nothing. There's nothing about your claims representative job that intrigued me. There's nothing intriguing about spending ten hours a day hooked up to a phone system handling customer complaints. I applied for this job because your company has great benefits and decent pay and I'm fairly sure that even my little pea brain could handle the job itself.

The most intriguing thing about this whole situation was trying to figure out what genius came up with the idea to use totally inappropriate words during the interview process in order to throw off the applicants. Intrigued indeed.

Political correctness run amok

So while heading to the library to drop off some (overdue) books, I passed one of the many places you can drop off your used Christmas trees. Only it didn't say "Christmas Tree Drop Off", it said "Holiday Tree Drop Off". Which at first made me laugh at the ridiculousness of the political correctness of it. But then it kind of pissed me off. I mean really? You can't even call them Christmas trees anymore?

And this led to the following conversation with Mister C after I got back home...

Me: So I found a place that takes trees over by the library.

MC: Cool.

Me: Yeah, except we can't bring our tree there.

MC: Huh? Why not?

Me: Because we have a Christmas tree and they're only accepting "Holiday" trees.

MC: (laughs) That's pretty bad.

Me: I know. I mean seriously, what the hell other holiday is associated with trees anyway?

MC: Arbor Day.

Me: Well okay, but I suspect the supporters of Arbor Day would frown on everyone going out and cutting down perfectly good trees and then throwing them out a month later.

MC: Oh yeah, huh?

The day after Christmas

Our main tree has been dying since two weeks before Christmas so we had made the decision that we would pull it down as soon as possible. On Sunday, after some nagging from Mister C, I undecorated the tree so it could be dragged out of the house and gotten rid of.

What I didn't count on when I started the process was the methodology that Mister C would employ to get rid of the tree. I guess I thought the process of dismemberment would begin once the tree got outside. I guess I was wrong.

Check out the mighty hunter carefully approaching the tree from behind. Note what he is carrying in his hand. That's right people, he's going to attempt an indoor landscaping project! (at this point I must add: kids, don't try this at home!)



He attacks the unsuspecting tree from an un-defensible angle. His trusty hunting dogs circle warily in case the tree makes a break for it.



He has his prey right where he wants it! He looks rather pleased with himself, no? It looks like it's pine salad for dinner tonight!



Getting into the field dressing portion of the hunt. Note the wild kitten "helping" from the left. He had to be removed before he became an amputee.



Oh lord, the pine needles are raining onto my carpet!



Izzy hoping she gets her portion of the kill, a branch maybe?



Another wild cat stalks around the landscaping. It was at this point that the mighty hunter was forced to remove all of the wild critters from the area as they were causing him to slow down the dismemberment process. They all got shoved unceremoniously into the bedroom. Much squawking and complaining commenced immediately.



I think he just removed the "tree steaks". You know, the most desired portion of the tree.



And no, my carpet wasn't always green.



Fully dressed tree, just need to have the "head" stuffed and hung on my wall to commemorate The Great Christmas Tree Kill of 2010!



And the mighty hunter drags his prey out of his favored hunting grounds.



Seriously, don't try this at home.

Realtors Suck!

Yes, I'm a Realtor. Yes, I still stand by my statement. Here's the deal...

Yesterday at 11:28 a.m., I submitted a purchase offer to a listing agent for a client. I triple checked to make sure I included everything that they asked for. It was all there. I scanned the offer in and emailed it instead of faxing because more times than not, the fax "never showed up". So I'm trying to keep it simple. I sent a text to the agent to let him know that I had sent the offer and asking him to please let me know that he got it.

I got nothing.

I called the agent's primary phone (the one in the listing, so it should be current) and left a message again asking him to let me know that he had received the offer.

I got nothing.

Because I had an expiration in the contract of 5:00 p.m. today, I knew I needed to make sure that he got it and could submit it to the seller as quickly as possible. I called him again last night around 6:00 p.m. reiterating that I am just trying to make sure he got the offer.

I got nothing.

I called his phone this morning at 9:00 a.m. and left a message for him to please call me. I then called the direct line to his office and, after getting voice mail there as well (WTF?) I left a message. In the message I said basically "I can't get a hold of the listing agent and I'm trying to make sure he got the offer".

I got nothing.

I sent another email to the agent at 11:30 a.m. today letting him know that I had submitted an offer 24 hours prior. I asked if there was anything else that he needed from me.

I got nothing.

I tried calling again around 3:30 p.m. today and it went straight to voicemail.

I texted him at 5:00 p.m. tonight with a simple message "You're a hard man to get a hold of".

I got nothing.

I called and left messages on both his cell phone and the main office phone (again, no answer at the main number?) at 5:30 p.m. letting them know that while the offer had expired, the buyers were still interested.

I got nothing.

I have solid buyers with good work histories and financing already in place that want to buy a listing that has been sitting on the market for over three months. What the *fuck is wrong with agents that they can't even be bothered to respond to an offer to purchase one of their listings? I am so **pissed right now. I cannot believe that these agents are still in business if this is how they run things. I am more floored that this ***d-bag has been in business for eight years. I do not have the patience to deal with this type of ****douchebaggery and *****ass-hattedness. It's no wonder people hate real estate agents, they're idiots.

Edited 8/13/10: Apparently the strong language in my last paragraph has offended my mother. Now, if you in fact know my mother, I will wait for you to stop laughing...

Done yet? Good. Below, please see the politically correct terminology.

*darn blasted tarnation
**slightly miffed
***wonderful man who is obviously just having a hard day
****non-thinking behavior
*****Self-centeredness

While I would never give up my right to free speech, I will acquiesce to my mother's delicate sensibilities.