It's been way too long since I posted anything...this Craigslist ad I wrote is the most I've done in months.  Enjoy!


About a month ago my husband told me he was planning on going to an auction with a few of his buddies. I figure that's a pretty safe place for him to hang out for a Saturday, I mean how much money could he actually waste there, right? The day arrives, his friends show up and they all pile into his pickup truck and head out to the auction. Woo-hoo! A few hours to catch up on some housework (lol!) or read a book, whichever.

Several hours later finds me out in the yard watering my trees when the hubby pops out the back door and lures me in with his excited "Come see what I bought for you!" What could it be? Did he find me a beautiful, 1940s waterfall bedroom set for some amazingly low price? Maybe he bought me some cool fish tank stand so I can expand my aquatic hobby. The excitement is simply overwhelming, so I rush inside to see what he found.

Well, my hopes were dashed upon entering my kitchen to find my beaming husband standing behind a vacuum cleaner. An old, used and very chrome-y looking vacuum cleaner. Um, thanks? But I'm not a complete meany so I say "Oh, it's a vacuum cleaner. Okay, is it better than the one I already own?" And my overly proud of his purchase husband begins to extol me on the virtues of this amazing machine.

This, he informs me, is a KIRBY!!! vacuum cleaner. The very best of the best of vacuum cleaners. Why, all the women whose homes he has admired for many years use KIRBY!!! vacuum cleaners. Nothing less will do. And look at all the attachments, he says. There are some that we'll probably never even figure out what they're for, but certainly they are very important to have. AND, it has extra bags! So we don't even have to worry about buying new bags for a long time ("longer still because my wife rarely vacuums" was thankfully left out). He briefly mentions the shampoo attachment (for when the idiot cats throw-up, again!) and then, he pulls out an attachment and with a reverence usually reserved for vintage whiskey or especially beautiful revolvers, he intones "And this brush...this brush is so you can clean the blinds!"

I'm duly impressed with his sales spiel, but he's not done yet. Because, like any good vacuum cleaner salesman would do, he insists on showing me how it works. As an aside, I've been around vacuums for a very long time and am fairly well versed in how they work. Evidently hubby has forgotten this and I hate to ruin his moment in the sun so I go along with him. It should be noted that by this time, our twelve year old son has joined us to watch this new wonder do it's magic.

My husband carefully adds the attachment to the long hose and plugs the machine in. He wheels the whole thing over to the blinds on the back door, looks at me with a smile and says "Watch this!" Hitting the "on" switch, the KIRBY!!! comes to life with a "RAWR!" of power. You can feel the surge of adrenaline pulsing through it's chrome-y parts. The cats scatter to the far corners of the house and the dogs look on it with horror. It is an animal. It is power, and virility and beauty all wrapped up into one amazing machine. And then...our son says "what's that smell?"

Hubby continues to run the brush over the blinds only looking over his shoulder long enough to say "That's raw power son" before going back to obliterating the dust from the slats. I have to say that the speed with which that dust was sucked into the KIRBY!!! was a sight to behold. It never stood a chance. About four slats in, our son again says "what's that smell?" and I realize that I am starting to smell something as well. Something...burny...electrically...electrically burny...and then Hubby smells it too. He turns around and looks down at his amazing machine and says "OMG! It's on fire!" And I dumbly reply "What is?" My husband's eyes get huge and he shouts "The vacuum cleaner is on fire! OMG! It's on fire! Holy sh!!!t! Unplug it!"

I dutifully unplug the raging monster and my heroic husband picks the flaming beast up in one massive fist and carries it outside. Upon being released from the source of fuel, this cousin of the Kraken (land version) loses steam and puts itself out. The stench of it's fury permeates my house and now, my back patio as well. The neighbors may or may not now believe they live next door to a long time sailor. Our son stands transfixed on the patio, staring at his father in what I can only assume is awe at his heroic acts.

Once the emergency is over, our hero stands in defeat, looking at his beloved KIRBY!!!, still slightly smoking at his feet. Lifting his eyes to mine, he says sadly "I guess I'll have to throw it away...I'm sorry your gift sucked." It breaks my heart to see him so destroyed. He wanted to badly to bring me this wonderful machine that he knew would make me the happiest woman in the world. So I tell him that he shouldn't throw it away. It's too GOOD to throw away. I mean, it's a KIRBY!!! for goodness sakes! They don't get thrown away! I promise him I will salvage the parts and sell them to the good people of Craigslist. People who appreciate what a wonder a KIRBY!!! is, people who will want it's parts to replace the ones on their own KIRBYs!!! Not because they broke obviously (because KIRBYs!!! don't break), but because sometimes the parts on their own KIRBYs!!! can just no longer stand up to the raw power of the machine.

So, with all of that in mind, I'm offering the remains, no, the strongest parts, of my husband's loving gift to me. I'm asking $30 (obo) for everything you see in the foreground of the first picture. For you highly technical folks, that doesn't include the background items, desk, empty box, carpeting or any animals that may have slipped into the shot (well, the cats might be negotiable) Cash only and you must pick up.

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.

Size Matters

We stopped at the grocery store last night after doing Movie Night at Master J's school. We were primarily there for one item but ended up buying a bunch of steaks that were more than half off. I think we got enough for the rest of the year but whatever. Anyway, while we're standing in line Mister C decides to pick up some Hershey's bars that are labeled as a two for one sale. Master J is perusing the candy and he notices the really big Hershey bars at the end...

Master J: Hey, these are called "King Size" candy bars.
Mirth: Yup.
Master J: Where's the "Peasant Size" ones?
Mirth: Hahaha!
Mister C: What did he just say?
Mirth: He asked where the Peasant Size ones are.
Mister C: That's really funny.
Mirth: Yup.

Did I ever tell you guys about the time he requested a "Rook" size bed? He was really into chess at the time.

Karma, she is a quick b!tch

The kids had early release today and, as always, the principal sent out a voice-mail last night reminding everyone to be on their very best behavior after they got released. Apparently some of the kids did not get the message.

I picked up Master J and we went out to lunch and ran a few errands afterwards. One of those errands was to go to my least favorite box store, WallyWorld.

As we pulled into the lot, there was a large group of kids blocking most of one aisle and moving slowly across. They were not in the least concerned that they were impeding traffic being much too concerned with yelling and laughing loudly so that everyone would notice how cool they were. I parked at the first available spot and Master J and I walked passed the hoard and on into the store. Eventually the hooligans made it inside as well where they proceeded to ride scooters down the aisles, move items around, yell and laugh uproariously and make a general nuisance of themselves. We finished our shopping and headed out to our last errand.

On our way back home, we headed down the same street that WallyWorld is located on. Coming toward us was the very same hoard, now broken into two groups separated by about twenty feet. The first group was yelling and trying to get reactions from oncoming traffic. The second group was firing bottle rockets at each other and towards the traffic. Oh, so hysterically funny right? Too bad for them that not only are bottle rockets illegal in the city limits, but also that the white truck behind me wasn't just another car. It was a cop. A cop who flipped on his lights and pulled over immediately to confront the hoard.

I don't think I've laughed that hard in awhile. And when I was done laughing, I pointed out to Master J that even if everyone else is being an idiot, the best thing to do is NOT be an idiot. Because the odds are, you will get caught. And my guess is that in that situation it would have been much better to be caught by Mom & Dad.

Vacation - Day 9

No photos today as I never left the house or took out my camera. It's been a pretty low key day overall. Mister C's sister, brother and their spouses came over for an early dinner and to hang out for a little while which was great. I finally got to meet my brother in law and his wife's younger son who turns two in August. He's an absolute doll. He has Down's Syndrome so he's a little behind on the development timeline but he's crawling around really fast and making lots of noises. And he has a totally infectious smile that lights up the room.

On a less than adorable note, apparently a call girl posted my cell phone number as her contact information on the web somewhere because I got five phone calls and two texts in the space of an hour. She must have eventually figured out there was a problem because the calls and texts stopped as suddenly as they started. Looks like someone was trying to earn some quick cash for the weekend. And evidently I'm in the wrong profession because that's the most my phone has ever rang for business, even if it wasn't my business.

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.

Old age and youth are so closely related

So every Tuesday morning I drop off Master J at school and then head over to pick up my mom so we can go to our weekly meeting. Some days she's ready as soon as I show up and some days I wait inside for a few minutes while she finishes getting ready. This past Tuesday, she was set to go pretty much as soon as I got there so we headed out quickly. Apparently a little too quickly.

It's a pretty short drive over to the meeting and after finding a parking place we climbed out and started heading in. We had gotten about ten feet from the car when Mamoo stopped in her tracks and started laughing hysterically. I turned around to see what the heck was the hold up and she's pointing at her feet saying "I guess I worked with preschoolers for too long!" The woman had her shoes on the wrong feet. I am not even kidding.

Don't ever wonder where I get it from.

New cat toy

On Friday, I had dinner with my friend A, her mom M and her nephew J. I should clarify that I was actually showing up to partake of M's fantabulous (it's a word) chicken Parmesan. No disappointment there, it was just as fantabulous as expected. In fact, earlier today I stopped by A's house to "feed the cats" but really it was just a great excuse to pick up the leftovers.

Anyway, when I got there I was given a gift for my herd of fur. Since they don't have thumbs, I got to open it up. A and M had given the herd the zhu zhu pet, Yama. For those not in the know, Yama is a member of the Kung Zhu clan. This clan is notorious for being very athletic, extremely agile, vocally superior and possessing ninja-like reflexes. Or, you know, they motivate crazily on the tile making noises. And the fur herd? Loved it.

From the first noise, their interest was piqued. With the exception of our oldest dog Nora, they were all very interested in it. Nora gave it a sniff, realized she couldn't eat it and wandered off. Izzy gave it a sniff, figured she probably could eat it and tried to walk off with it. She had to be repeatedly told to leave it alone so the cats could investigate it.

But the cats were awesome. The kitten (who fears absolutely nothing) was the first to check it out. He walked up like he owned it and started following it around. Then he knocked it onto it's side and when it started squealing in distress he dragged it closer and gave it a (rather aggressive) hug. It wasn't a hug filled with love or comfort. We alternated with me putting Yama back on it's wheels and starting it up and Tiberius following him around until he got tired and then knocking it over and holding it tightly.

The Antagonizer (who also has no fear and possesses an evil streak) sniffed it, followed it and looked perturbed when Tiberius held it too tightly. She really disliked the distress signal Yama made every time the kitten knocked it down. She finally sat back and watched from the sidelines, occasionally running over to sniff it.

The Hooligan (who is afraid of everything, as well as being mentally unstable and having questionable intelligence) was horrified and yet intrigued. He also seemed to have an excessively difficult time tracking which way Yama was going, even when it was simply spinning in place. He's never been the brightest in the bunch.

It was difficult to get decent photos of the chaos, mostly due to Izzy's brindled butt perpetually being between my camera and my subject. She has an innate ability to lift her head or fling up an ear at exactly the right moment to ruin a picture. It's a gift. In spite of her I managed to get a few pics.

This first picture is a perfect example of the personalities involved. In case you can't tell the difference between the two lardy silver tabbies, Tiberius is next to the dishwasher.

1. Tiberius is watching the toy that has gotten stuck in a maze of shoes. He's curious, but he's willing to wait and see what's going to happen.

2. The Antagonizer is trying to "help" Yama out of it's tight spot. A few pokes and it escaped.

3. The Hooligan appears to have no idea where Yama even is, even though it is at this point making a bunch of different barnyard like noises and struggling to escape.




And another situation...

1. Tiberius is again waiting patiently for what's next. While he's waiting he is strewing lego pieces around the floor from their former pile.

2. Izzy is licking her chops and hoping to be able to snag Yama at the first opportunity.

3. The Hooligan is carefully looking under the tray table for Yama. Unfortunately, Yama is almost two feet away, in another direction.



Tiberius holding Yama in place. This is what happens before it gets knocked around and "hugged".



So, long story short, I am unable to leave Yama on the floor unsupervised. He gets put up on the counter when I can't babysit. And when I can, all I have to do is push the button and within thirty seconds I have the fur herd running into the room.

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.

Made me smile

Awesome