I got involved with this harem-scaram scavenger hunt gone wild this year for the first time. While I didn't get half the stuff done I wanted, I did manage two that I'm sort of proud of. First, we have my pet's debut heavy-metal album cover. You have no idea how hard it is to make my pretty girl and a canary named Cyril T. Flufferbottom look metal. I'm kind of proud of how well it turned out. I guess all that time I spent helping classmates mark up their jackets with white-out in the back of the bus in high school was useful after all. I went whole-hog and had it printed up so I could make it into a proper sleeve that would, in fact, fit a vinyl record. After I submitted it, I framed that original and hung it up on the wall. This next one's even harder to explain. You had to watch a Bob Ross episode and paint along, doing a time-lapse video showing that you did it and showing a comparison between your work and his. My daughter joined me, and we set it up. Things were a little interesting, in that I had a hard time finding some of his specialized stuff. What he calls "liquid white" is actually proprietary and not easy to get a hold of. Also, I've never painted oils before, so I didn't have any palette knives or the right brushes for oils. That didn't deter us. We punted with a mix of extender and white oil paint, and model kunai knives from an old Naruto cosplay we have around the house. I also don't have a real "video camera" so we took the footage by taping my iPad to a floor lamp stem. It was fun, though, and as I say at the end of the video, they didn't turn out hideous. It was fun. I want to do it again next year, knowing what I know now.
This showed up on the GWJ forum, and it is going to be my mantra for the next two weeks:
I must not Steam Sale. Steam Sale is the wallet-killer. Steam Sale is the little-spending that brings total budget obliteration. I will face the Steam Sale. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn my browser to see its path. Where the Steam Sale has gone there will be a hundred Steam games from past sales I’ve yet to play. Only this time my finances will remain. I am adulting with no training wheels these days. I have bought a house. It's been an amazing journey. I'm so happy in so many ways. But I've got my work cut out for me.
I was ranting a bit on GWJ about some of the issues, and one of the guys suggested that I should write it all up and post it; he'd like to read it. And I thought what the heck. I'm trying to get myself on an even keel on all my various venues, so here goes. I've got A LOT of stuff to talk about. Let's start off with a bit of description of the place. I went in on it with a friend because it has two houses on it. My building is a shop with the top floor converted into an apartment. Basically, I have a large 2bdrm living area upstairs, and a 1400+ square foot mad scientist lair down below. The other house is a regular house, with 4 bedrooms, and a semi-detached daylight basement. It would be hard for the setup to be more perfect for us. It's on 3/4 of an acre. The place was built in 1962. Needless to say, the standards for building were more than a little different. To put snow on that mountain, the subsequent owners thought they were handy and did a bunch of work themselves. With the predictable outcomes. Nothing is square, or level, and much of it is done using the wrong/cheap materials. Or just plain badly - for example, the corner caps on the siding are all just a two boards lapped together and nailed up the edge. The individual boards aren't even the same length or squared up with each other, and gaps are left at the top and bottom. The big one I've got in the corner here I can't fix until fall because there's a family of European starlings being raised in it. They have two broods a year so I have to wait. But once they're grown and gone I'll clean it out and patch it in so we don't get any more in there between now and when we start the upcoming Replace The Siding project. We knew it was going to be interesting when we bought the place. Inspections show that, while plenty of things aren't right, they're not fundamentally damaged. We hired the inspectors (and we know them as people, too) so we know they're on point. Also, I am actually trained in these fields. I grew up in a family of builders on both sides. And the best skill I learned from them was when to do it myself and when to bring in an expert. And luckily, my gang are also trained in various fields. Thanks be my eldest son is an electrician. There's only so many ways to wire an outlet. It's not complicated. But as we've tested them before plugging in all the computers and whatnot around here we've found at least one outlet with every possible variation on wrong. My younger son the roofer/mason checked the roofing and the visible foundations and came up with the same thumbs up results the inspector did. My younger daughter is the paint queen, and my elder daughter is my demolitions partner. So we know what needs to be done and can go at it systematically. We've been focusing on living space fixtures like faucets and all those outlets and getting ourselves settled while we come up with an ordered list of work. These quirks I'm ranting on about are welcome features. They're why it didn't cost a literal million dollars. Housing prices around here are INSANE, and properties are in short supply. A 3 bedroom, zero-lot line like the ones that just got finished behind us are going for well over $400,000, and the entire development of something like 20 houses were sold before they were even completed. The 3 acres at the end of the block has also been purchased by a developer, and they're cutting it into 17 houses. I can't even figure that one. And I could write another 1000 words on the B.S. bidding war we had to win to get this place. While the computers are chugging away at various work-tasks this morning, I've been trying to do a Sisyphean task -- get my Linkdin profile up to date.
I'm not out looking for work or anything. My company has just launched a major product, and shifted all the gears. And one of the tasks involved in that launch was for all of us to update our online stuff. But for me it's a little more complicated. I'm weird in this business in that I've been in the same position for over 12 years. No big company changes, just steady work. So updating my resume/CV and keeping all that up was way, way down on the totem pole in terms of what was getting done. We've been hip-deep in a "transformative product change" for the last three years and I haven't been able to touch bottom, even with a long pole. So having one line-item in there representing that long a time looks really weird. I didn't join LinkdIn for business reasons. My monster-in-law joined because someone else told her she should she didn't really understand what it was and she'd decided to use me as her guinea pig. She figured out very quickly this wasn't for a retired master florist, but I ended up keeping the account and at least built the profile out. The headshot I used was taken under duress by my former boss like 7 years ago when she insisted on putting pictures in the org chart to help our remote colleagues have faces to go with the emails. I have connected with some people, but it's not a work-only thing. If I go through my suggested connections list, I have to play a little game with myself and figure out where I know these people from. I can pretty much filter out Rando Calrissian the PR/HR wonk and their ilk, but I still have a lot of options left. Is that a GWJ person, a church person, an Enforcer, a game industry person, or like an actual like professional contact? Reading through those lists it turns out I have run around potting aliens and zombies online with some really high-powered people. And I guess I better get the homework done on making myself look good up there, too. So I need to talk to my bosses again and make sure they understand that my network isn't going to look like the rest of them. We spent the night here last night, and were awakened by the bleary light of an east-facing window, the sound of birds, and the crashes and bangs from the construction site next door. As you can see, Cleo is still not over-fond of the concept of a day with two 6 o'clocks in it. ;) I'm titling that picture "East-facing Window, Monday Morning". There was going to be another picture of her carrying out her usual morning routine of digging me out from under the covers then rooting around under there like she's going to find treasure or something. I was going to entitle it "Dignity, Always Dignity" but it turned out to be a hopeless muddled blur of waggling backside and duvet. Not enough Photoshop in the world to fix that. I do have coffee, and I even found a cup to put it in. The box I'd opened thinking it held the cups I'd packed up for just this eventuality actually turned out to contain my great-aunt's Depression glass. That won't work. Luckily, in the random desk-dreck box I found an artsy cup a friend gave me years ago for babysitting his cat and that got me through until I could go figure out what I did with the cups I intended to be using. D'oh. I've got my computers setup on a folding table backed up into my kitchen island. it looks like I'm trying to launch my kitchen into orbit or something with all the monitors and cords strung around. This whole mess will be moving into it's actual future space this evening when my real desk arrives. This is a good thing. Because I am having a dreadful time focusing on my work when right behind my screens I can see five or six home setup projects (and at least two home improvement projects). Once I get my desk over to it's new locale I should be able to think a bit more clearly. I've got three different To-Do lists (house, work, Easter) going at once here to attempt to calm the face of the waters. My younger son goes on Saturday. I'm worried about him, and about my monster-in-law. I'm not worried about the two of them together. She has a sad liking for rogues, and they actually get along the best of any of my kids. And she needs the help. But I still worry about the whole rest of the situation around him up there. The problems of living rural and out at the very End of the Road are no joke. That way of living is right up his alley, but he's also got the lowest defenses against it's pitfalls. My roommate spent several hospital visits finding out she has developed COPD and has now had to move in with her daughter. My younger son is moving to Alaska. My dayjob is still taking up more time than actually is included in any given day. And I'm moving. I've got Easter dinner to plan, the Easter bunny to frame for it. I'm swamped. ;)
Seriously, a whole lot of work and effort over the last several months is all coming into focus here in the next couple weeks. It's terrifying and wonderful, all at once. Tonight we're doing St. Patrick's Day dinner (everyone was WAY too busy with their own work and life yesterday). This is the last time for a while here that I'm going to have all the kids in one place. And we've kicked it off properly. Corned beef and all the fixin's are cooking. I need to go finish prepping the cabbage and peeling the potatoes for the colcannon. There's the first parts of a tipsy trifle in the oven (that's a chocolate fudge Guinness cake cut into cubes, then layered with rum-touched clotted cream and whiskey whipped cream. Fun will be had by all. Which is good, because it's prep for all hands helping me move all weekend. This recipe is not just a list of ingredients. The making of a proper pumpkin pie must follow the proper steps and take the proper time in order for it to be savored.
First, timing is everything. Pumpkin pie must be made at oh-dark-hundred the night before the meal it accompanies. You do not do this at a time when normal humans (or the children) walk the earth. If werewolves aren't howling at the moon, give it another hour. This is for three reasons: 1) If you make it, they will eat it. Now! Not after the dinner when you want it. The only way to foil them is to bake late and store securely. A decommissioned missile silo works well if available. I get by with a bank vault and a pirate's lair with lots of traps. 2) You will never have time to do it earlier that same day due to the aforementioned children and all the other dreck you have to get together. 3) Tomorrow you are going to have a velociraptor taking up the oven for nine hours, remember? I assure you, the only other thing that's going to fit is just enough of your hand to burn the heck out of it while basting. Second, you must have your kitchen ready. This activity cannot occur in a clean kitchen with counter space. I don't know why. It's a mystery. I just know that I've never had a bake turn out properly if I started out with a spotless kitchen. Besides, with the kids doing the dishes this is a mythological event. Now you must assemble all your ingredients. This recipe makes four desert pies, and three breakfast tarts. Put the things you assemble into three stacks. Stack 1 - four cups of sugar, plus an indeterminate scoop because that doesn't look like enough - 10 grinds on the nutmeg grinder - a palm of salt - a palm of ginger - a palm of allspice - half a palm-full of cloves - four palms of cinnamon - several random shakes and grinds from the spice jars listed above because it doesn't look right - eight eggs Stack 2 - 2 large cans pumpkin (not that mix stuff) - four 12 oz. cans evaporated milk Stack 3 - four regular pie pans dressed with crust (Pillsbury only if minions have been particularly evil or kitchen in particularly advanced state of higgeldy-piggeldy) - three of the holes in the mini-loaf pan dressed with crust - 75 foot roll of Reynolds Wrap, of which you only need about a foot right now - Three beers; two root and one stout - half recipe worth of banana bread batter Now it's time to start putting it all together. After you've washed the large mixing bowl from making the pie crust, open a root beer and put Stack 1 ingredients into the bowl, dry stuff first, then eggs. Beat senseless with rubber spatula. Add Stack 2. Beat senseless again with rubber spatula. Pour brown mess still left in bowl (not the part that's spattered all over heck-and-gone) into the pie pans and the crusted mini-loaf pans. Cover edges of crust with strips of tinfoil, struggling manfully to not poke it into the mousse-part so it bakes in there like that. Fill un-clad mini-loaf pans with half-way with banana bread batter. Remember you forgot to turn on oven, so read pumpkin can to see temp. Giggle at their dumb theatrics about preheating and that whole one-temp-for-15-minutes-and-then-turn-down gig. Set oven to happy medium and then remember it's witch-tit cold outside tonight so turn it up another five degrees. Put first two pies in immediately on the center rack with a baking sheet on the lower rack to diffuse heat and to make sure any spills are deflected directly onto the heating element while still baking into an evil black metallic object on the sheet. Consume root beer, read book, and shoo house-apes back into bed at random intervals for 55 minutes. Spend five minutes trying to find a safe spot to lay down book and figure out what kids did with hot-pads. Remove first two pies carefully from oven and place on cooling rack. Put second two pies in their place in the oven. Open second root beer. Repeat last baking experience, only watch for smoke coming out of oven from baking sheet getting too hot to deal with the spills. Move cooled pies on rack to bank vault. Remove pies and baking sheet from oven. Pies go on rack, baking sheet goes across burners of stove-top where it can properly singe your eyebrows for next step. Place mini-loaf pan in oven with the banana bread towards the front where the oven is cooler. Open stout. Continue to bake at exactly the same temp with a blithe disregard for the directions for about half an hour (give or take a page). While this is baking, do dishes and clean up counters and start doing any other prep work possible for tomorrow and consume the beer. Remove cooled pies from rack and place them in pirate's cave (diversification is good in baking, too). Open the oven and (once you are done wincing away from the steam-burns on your corneas) poke banana bread with toothpick. If done, remove and shut off oven and place on cooling rack and leave to cool while chopping vegetable, measuring ingredients, and whatnot for other recipes to be actually cooked tomorrow. When cool, move pan and put the cooling rack across top of loaf-pan face-down. Using a towel to hold it all together, turn as one unit and leave until the tarts fall out of their own accord. You will be able to see this clearly because the pan is stilted up on the banana bread's tops. Then pick up the pan and "help" the banana bread out by dint of gentle nudging and the occasional poke/lever with a plastic knife to free any stuck spots. By this time, beer will be done and so will you. Cover three loaves of banana bread and the three tarts with a kitchen towel to decoy the kids in the morning and hit the sack. Set alarm clock for six for humor's sake. Remember, tomorrow's the big day! ;) Every year since they were in the third grade my kids (more accurately, my daughters with some help from my sons) write a parody song making fun of me and how old/gray/geeky I am. It is referred to as my "birthday song".
Here are some old examples: 2009 | 2012 | 2013 | 2014 This year they're making fun of my recent adventures in World of Warcraft. They sang it to me at our family celebration yesterday and, as is traditional, I am returning the favor by posting a recording and the lyrics for all to see. ================================== Wowwwwwwwww! Sung to the tune of "I won't Say I'm In Love" from Disney's "Hercules" (The Muses are red and in italics) I say there's nothing wrong with claiming Something's off about my gaming It's not reality, it's fiction What am I doing with this WoW addiction? What could be wrong with flying? Or sleeping in a forest glade? Buying lots of items, or hunting down Night Elf brigades? Beating back Silithus tentacle corruption with a Widow Blade? When do I say, no way, I won't go! You know, you won't, you don't want to say no. I just won't play, I can leave on my own. Every time I say I'm quitting Just one last task and then it's over No more killing, no more maiming It's not too late to start this life all over! There's nothing wrong with saving ancient giant island turtles. Messing with the undead and collecting wind-up clockwork squirrels. Shouting Leroy Jenkins when you face destruction by your enemies. I can't delay, it's not fun anymore. Not now, just wait, in the update there's more. I won't give in, it's another trap door! You want to play, it's okay you want more. It's not okay, I can't play it. She won't play the game. There is no way, I won't play it. What's one more day? Pick Alliance or Horde. Just one more raid.... Then I'm quitting for sure.... (together) Shalalala muah ha ha! ================================== And now I'm a year older in the only way I want to measure it. ;) (This was originally written in 2003, which was the year half of the Pagan Horde was headed off to jr. high. I was inspired to go find it by my neighbor's return from shopping with her brood, and her query as to whether her daughter bought a particular pair of shorts from Build-A-Bear. I don't miss these days....)
The dreaded First Day of School fast approaches. We must arm ourselves for the dread tasks that lie ahead. First, a trial of strength and endurance of epic proportions as we set off on our quest: School Shopping. Seriously, we aren't going to pull a sword out of anything. We just have to pick up a few things. Come on! It'll be fun! Based on our previous experiences I took the time to write up a few things, just so you know the schedule and we are all on the same page. Take a look.
I have a hard time with a lot of these "meme" photos out there. Instead of laughing, I end up frustrated at people's lack of understanding of what's really going on there.
Today's example: The World's Most Useless Cat (stuff like this) There are a bunch of these types of pictures out there, but the general theme is a cat who is just hanging out with a mouse instead of killing it. Well, duh. Most housecats were never taught how to cat Hunting isn't just an instinct. It's also knowledge. In the wild (or in the case of a household who is keeping them) they're taught by their mothers, starting from the time when they're weaned. That's about the time they're usually sold/given away. The training they get as they're raised by humans is to be gentle, to only damage things like their scratching post and their squeaky toys. So why would you expect them to go hog-wild on an actual fuzzy living creature? That's not to say many of them can't pick things up fast if you let them outside and give them some time/motivation to figure it out. Many of their "play" behaviors in the house are limited or unfocused pieces of the art of the stalk. The instincts are still there, and hunger is a sharp sauce. But you don't take a kitten who comes from a line of probably generations who have been born of mothers who never have left a house and were never taught themselves what to do and who has been taken from that mother just when it's time she should start showing them the ropes and expect it to act like a slavering beast just because it's shown something from the order Rodentia. |
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